Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 15 Cannes Arrives

The steps outside the administration building were frozen and brittle.

Su Wan's tears fell onto Chen Yan's hot hand with a soft thud.

She didn't cry out loud, but her shoulders trembled violently, her voice broken into incoherent sentences: "Xiao Yan, just now... I thought the sky was falling. When Qi Feng took out those things, and the principal's face, I thought we were finished."

Chen Yan didn't say anything, but simply pried open her hand that was digging into her palm.

Four deep red crescent-shaped marks, from which fine beads of blood had seeped, were particularly glaring against his rough fingertips.

"Your skin is broken, and you don't even feel the pain?"

He lowered his voice, took out a handkerchief from his coat pocket, and awkwardly wiped away the bloodstains.

He wrapped her hand in his large palm, the cold touch reminding him of the winters in his rented room in his past life when the heating was off.

He never wanted to experience that bone-chilling cold again.

"A person like Qi Feng is just splashing around in a basin and thinking he's stirred up the ocean."

Chen Yan's tone was calm, like a frozen lake, "If you take the basin away, he won't even have a place to stand."

He pulled Su Wan toward the school hospital, and along the way, countless eyes swept over them like searchlights.

What happened in the auditorium is spreading across the campus at the speed of a virus.

The name Chen Yan has transformed from a reclusive genius into a ruthless individual who used 600,000 yuan in cash to break the rules.

The school hospital was filled with the pungent smell of Lysol.

The nurse vigorously wiped the area with a cotton swab soaked in iodine, causing Su Wan to hiss in pain and immediately pull her hand back.

Chen Yan pressed down on her shoulders, leaning against the mottled wall, his gaze fixed on her face, revealing genuine exhaustion for the first time: "Now you know it hurts? What were you thinking when you were pinching yourself in the conference room?"

He was tired, not physically.

It was a defeat deep within his soul that lasted for twenty years. Even though the beginning was rewritten by rebirth, the smell of gunpowder from the war never dissipated.

After treating their wounds, the two went to the Third Hospital of Beijing.

The corridor was crowded with patients' family members with vacant eyes, and the air was stuffy.

Chen Yan, accompanied by Su Wan, withdrew 50,000 yuan from the red passbook at the payment window.

Five bundles of brand-new 100-yuan bills, like five red bricks, were pushed in through the narrow window by him.

The toll collector behind the glass raised his eyelids slightly, his businesslike expression now showing a hint of scrutiny.

"Internal Medicine 502, Su Daqiang, pre-payment for surgery."

Chen Yan's voice was very steady.

Su Wan gripped the thin receipt tightly, her fingers turning white from tension.

This piece of paper represents her father's fate.

"Go see your uncle and tell him that the surgery is scheduled, so he can rest assured."

Chen Yan patted her on the shoulder.

"And what about you?"

"I've made plans with my future partner."

Chen Yan shook the hard Nokia phone. "It's on the back street."

……

In the alley behind the school, a black Audi A6 lay silently in the shadows, like a silent beast.

In the corner of the noodle stall, a woman in a camel-colored cashmere coat was looking down at a document, her gold-rimmed glasses gleaming slightly in the firelight from the stove.

Lin Shufen.

Chen Yan pulled out the bench opposite her and sat down, calling out to the owner, "One bowl of wide noodles, extra chili."

Lin Shufen looked up, her gaze behind her glasses dissecting him like a scalpel: "You are more composed than I imagined."

"The noodles haven't arrived yet, there's no use in being anxious."

Chen Yan tapped his chopsticks. "Sister Lin probably didn't just call me out to treat me to noodles."

Lin Shufen laughed, her voice hoarse yet resonant: "In this industry, I've seen geniuses and madmen, but someone like you, who can tear off the department head's mask one minute and then manipulate an old fox like Lu Haiming the next, you're the first one."

She pushed a business card towards me: "The news that 'The Night Watch' has been nominated for Cannes can't be kept secret forever. Once it's made public, your door will be overwhelmed with visitors. But what I can offer you is not just money."

Chen Yan took the business card, flicked it with his fingertip, and put it in his pocket: "Sister Lin, do you think I'm short of money right now?"

He tilted his head towards the alley entrance. "I just paid 50,000 yuan for the surgery, and I still have more than 500,000 yuan left. In this era when pork costs only a few yuan per kilogram, I don't lack money even when I'm in shackles."

Lin Shufen frowned slightly: "Then what do you want? The laurel wreath of art? That's an honor abroad, but in China, you'll have to learn how to survive first."

"No."

The owner just finished serving it; the chili oil was piping hot. Chen Yan took a big sip, and the spiciness shot straight to the top of his head.

He coughed twice, but his eyes grew even brighter. "I want to survive and make the rules."

Lin Shufen leaned forward slightly.

"I have the script, Sister Lin, you have the distribution channels. For the next feature film, I want to produce it independently, and you can handle the global distribution."

Chen Yan stared into her eyes. "I can help you win international awards that you never dared to dream of before, but on my film set, I am the only rule."

Lin Shufen fell silent. The arrogance in her words was enough to make any seasoned producer laugh.

But she remembered her film critic friend's comments from last night: that kid's shots were like they were burned out of hell, carrying a kind of calm and cruel despair.

"it is good."

She stood up, straightened her coat, and said, "I have a meeting tonight with the editors-in-chief of several major newspapers. They're going to Cannes. We need to get this momentum going from China first, so we don't win the battle only to have our home stolen."

Thank you.

Chen Yan didn't look up again, focusing on eating the noodles in his bowl.

Lin Shufen turned and left, getting into the Audi.

The car silently glided into the night.

After finishing the last mouthful of noodle soup, Chen Yan felt like his stomach was on fire.

This young body is not yet able to withstand the spicy food he loved in his previous life.

He returned to the school gate, where Deng Chuan and Wu Lei were shrugging their necks and stamping their feet.

"director!"

Wu Lei rushed up and punched him on the shoulder. "I heard you were in the administration building this afternoon and almost made that old coffin-head of Qi Feng die on the spot? Awesome, Yan-ge, you're the totem of our department now!"

Deng Chuan was even more direct: "Cannes, is it settled?"

Chen Yan took out a Hongtashan cigarette, handed one to each person, lit one for himself, and the smoke he exhaled condensed into white arrows in the cold air.

"It's settled, official fax, opening video."

Wu Lei coughed violently, the smoke he had just inhaled filling his lungs: "Opening...opening video?! Holy crap! Doesn't that mean walking the red carpet? Suits! Get me a suits right now!"

"Suits are a minor matter."

Chen Yan flicked his cigarette ash, a spark flashing in the darkness. "Before going to France, there are tough battles to fight. 'The Night Watch' is just a stepping stone. A short film can't stand firm in Cannes."

He lowered his voice, as if announcing a military order: "I have a long film script. Deng Chuan, your face is too handsome. Go to the poorest rural village tomorrow and stay there for three months. When the dogs at the village entrance are too lazy to bark at you, you can come back and play the male lead."

Deng Chuan's eyes lit up, and he forcefully stubbed out his cigarette: "Okay!"

"Wu Lei, you have a wide network of connections, go find me some amateur actors, not those with formal training, but those whose lives are etched on their faces, the kind that make you feel suffocated just by looking at them."

"Leave it to me!"

The three of them squatted at the school gate, their cigarette butts flickering in the darkness like three embers that refused to go out.

……

Back in his dorm, Chen Yan climbed into bed in the dark and, by the dim light of the streetlamp outside the window, wrote two words on the first page of his notebook.

Blind Mountain.

In his past life, it was this very film that was abruptly cut short by Lu Haiming and his gang when he was closest to realizing his dream.

In this life, he will use it to tear apart all the masks of hypocrisy.

Outside the window, the snow has started falling again.

He closed his eyes, but the sound of the waves crashing over Cannes filled his ears.

The next morning, the knocking on the door was as urgent as a war drum.

"Chen Yan! Are you there?"

Yan Huaizhong's voice was urgent and excited.

Chen Yan opened the door and found Yan Huaizhong covered in sweat, clutching a copy of the "Yanjing Evening News" in his hand, the edges of the newspaper damp from his grip.

"It exploded!"

He slapped the newspaper into Chen Yan's arms.

The entertainment section is on the front page, in bold, large print.

[A Beijing Film Academy student makes a stunning debut, the Palme d'Or opens doors for Chinese directors!]

The accompanying image is a profile of Chen Yan, appearing cold and aloof.

Signed by Lin Shufen.

"They're really fast."

Chen Yan thought to himself.

"The vice principal wants you to come over immediately; a leader from the Ministry of Culture specifically requests to see you!"

Yan Huaizhong rubbed his hands together, his face beaming. "Kid, you're about to rise to the top!"

Chen Yan folded the newspaper, threw it on the table, and turned to squeeze toothpaste.

"Teacher Yan," he said, his voice muffled by toothpaste foam, "the stronger the wind, the easier it is to fall and die."

He rinsed his mouth, looked up at his young but weathered face in the mirror, and said, "Tell the principal that if there's even the slightest ambiguity regarding the diploma, I won't be going to Cannes."

"You little brat!"

Yan Huaizhong laughed and cursed, but he felt completely at ease.

Just after Yan Huaizhong left, Chen Yan's Nokia rang.

An unfamiliar landline number in Beijing.

He pressed the answer button.

On the other end of the phone was a deep, steady voice from a middle-aged man, without any extra fluctuations, yet carrying a natural sense of pressure.

"Comrade Chen Yan?"

"I am."

"This is the Film Bureau of the Ministry of Culture. My surname is Zhou."

Chen Yan held the phone, his other hand unconsciously clenching tightly.

He remembered that voice.

In his past life, it was this same voice that informed him over the phone that another of his films was permanently banned due to its sensitive subject matter.

Unexpectedly, we've met so soon in this life.