usenovelgroup Chapter 111 That night, the entire city of Cannes was listening to thunder.
Chapter 111 That night, the entire city of Cannes was listening to thunder.
"The cable is getting hot."
Wu Gang squatted in the truck bed, his hands pressing hard on the throbbing cable connector.
The rubber insulation softened slightly and emitted a wisp of white smoke.
"Suppress it."
Chen Yan uttered two words, gripping the adjustment lever of the laser projector with his right hand, feeling the machine vibrate violently in his palm.
He turned the lumen knob again.
Four beams of light shot out from the roof of the car, slicing through the dark sea and landing firmly on the south wall of the Martinez Hotel.
The image trembled in the rain, yet remained remarkably clear.
Details in the shadows were forcibly brightened, making every piece of rubble and every bullet hole in the ruins clearly visible.
Several French police officers in dark uniforms were running across Boulevard Croce toward this side.
The sound of the whistle came intermittently in the sea breeze.
Fazio of Gaumont Pictures wiped the rain from his face and shouted, "Chen! They're warning us!"
Chen Yan didn't even look up; his eyes were fixed on the monitor screen.
"That's a public facility, not my private cinema."
He pressed the main audio control switch.
On the beach, the damp, cold wind whipped up the sand.
Lin Qingqiu stood at the center of the four speakers, with soft, seawater-soaked sand beneath her feet.
She looked up.
The giant on the wall is roaring; it's her from the movie, trying to stand up in the pouring rain.
In reality, Lin Qingqiu stretched out her arms and leaned her body backward.
She pushed her right toes into the sand, twisting her waist to create a powerful twist.
Her black dress tore open in the wind, revealing her legs covered in calluses and old wounds.
The light and shadow on the wall were projected onto her, and the beam of light pierced through her silhouette, casting a huge shadow on the beach.
Her movements coincided with the image on the wall.
She struggles in the rain on the wall, and spins in the wind on the beach.
The twisting of each joint creates the illusion of bone friction.
"Look over there!"
A backpacker carrying a bottle of liquor pointed at the beach, his mouth agape.
"She's dancing!"
The crowd began to stir, and the flashes of light went off again, so densely packed they sounded like a rapid drumbeat.
Martinez Hotel, fourth floor.
Several judges who had just finished a cocktail party were preparing to draw the curtains.
The glass window vibrated and hummed from a muffled infrasound wave.
A judge from Sweden opened the window.
What he saw was not rain clouds, but a white wall completely filled with light.
In the video, a woman is kneeling in the mud, digging at the hard ground with her hands.
That suppressed, almost self-destructive beauty pierced his pupils directly through the beam of light.
He leaned out, ignoring the raindrops soaking his dress.
The window next door opened, one after another.
At that moment, the guest rooms on the south side of the entire hotel seemed to be under the command of some force.
The lights went out, the window was opened, and a figure appeared on the balcony.
They looked down at the beach, then looked up at the wall.
Thunder rumbled past my ears, and waves crashed beneath my feet.
"Turn it off! Now!"
He Ping pushed open the hotel door and staggered toward the truck.
His bow tie was askew to one side, and he wore a long overcoat over his dark blue pajamas, which looked comical and rushed.
Two French security guards responsible for hotel security followed behind him, each carrying a rubber baton.
"This is an illegal screening! This is a desecration of the film festival!"
He Ping pointed at Chen Yan's back, his voice sharp with anger.
The security guard walked up to the truck and reached out to grab the fixing cable on the side.
Wu Gang jumped down from the truck bed, his body forming a wall in front of the security guard.
He didn't touch it, but simply unbuttoned the first button of his coat.
The iron plaque bearing Lu Haiming's name flashed past his waist.
The two security guards were stunned.
Fazio came out, followed by a dozen or so tall men.
Those were independent film distributors from Italy, Germany, and the United States.
Each of them held a cigarette in their hand and looked at He Ping.
"Mr. He, if you have any objections to this screen, you can go to the mayor of Cannes."
A German publisher with a full head of white hair exhaled a puff of smoke.
"But now, don't disturb me while I'm watching the movie."
He Ping's chest heaved violently as he turned to look at Chen Yan.
"Chen Yan, you think you can win an award like this? You've ruined your future!"
Chen Yan turned around, his hand still resting on the projector.
He looked at He Ping, his eyes appearing unfathomable in the reflection of the laser light.
"Teacher He, the future is the path, all I have here are movies."
He pointed to the wall.
"After you've finished reading, then you can talk to me about the future."
The scene then transitioned to the final moment.
Lin Qingqiu's character stands atop a towering clock tower, with lightning flashing in the clouds.
The thunderclap was perfectly synchronized with the rumbling thunder in the sky above Cannes at that moment.
That tremor went straight from the soles of my feet into my spine.
He Ping looked into the woman's eyes on the wall.
Those were the eyes of despair he had seen twenty years ago, hidden beneath the ruins.
He took a step back and bumped into a marble pillar in the hotel.
The performance on the beach has ended.
Lin Qingqiu lay on the wet sand, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath.
She didn't try to hide the injury on her leg, letting the cameras relentlessly capture her disfigurement.
The screen disappeared.
The laser beam retracted back into the muzzle, and the roar from the truck abruptly ceased.
The world fell into a deathly silence.
A sea breeze swept by, leaving only the dull sound of waves crashing against the breakwater.
More than two hundred spectators stood on the beach in silence.
The judges and reporters on the hotel balcony also maintained their original postures.
Chen Yan took out a cigarette from his pocket, but didn't light it; he just put it in his mouth.
He looked toward the Martinez Hotel.
Suddenly, a faint light appeared on a balcony on the third floor.
That wasn't a lighter, but a white candle.
Then, the fourth floor, the fifth floor, and the sixth floor.
The balconies that were originally dark were gradually lit up with candlelight.
This is the oldest way of paying tribute in Cannes.
When a film can no longer be evaluated with words, the audience will sacrifice silence as a form of self-sacrifice.
"The thunder has passed."
Su Wan walked to Chen Yan's side, her voice trembling slightly.
Chen Yan spat out the cigarette butt from his mouth and looked into the distance.
"The thunder has stopped; it's time for rain."
"Chen, you're a madman."
Chairman Claude pushed through the crowd, walking briskly.
His tie was slightly askew as he stared at the scorching projector.
"Do you know that the police chief was just sitting in my office?"
Chen Yan jumped out of the car, his leather shoes stepping onto the soft, wet lawn.
Did he see it?
"I saw it, it's on the police car's surveillance camera."
Claude pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from his pocket and patted it on Chen Yan's chest.
"This is the resolution that the jury just passed unanimously."
Chen Yan took the paper and unfolded it.
The text is only in French.
Claude straightened his collar.
"Thunder will no longer be eligible for the 'Special Focus' category."
He Ping heard this from a short distance away, slipped, and fell into the muddy ground after the rain.
Claude interrupted him coldly.
"It has been upgraded to the main competition, and the organizing committee has decided to hold a formal premiere for it."
"Tomorrow night at eight o'clock, Lumière Hall."
Four o'clock in the morning.
Inside the Cannes apartment, the firewood in the fireplace crackled.
Lin Qingqiu sat on the sofa, drying her hair with a towel.
The scald marks on her legs appeared even redder after being burned by hot water.
Chen Yan handed her a cup of freshly brewed hot coffee.
"It feels like... my life has grown a bit longer."
Lin Qingqiu took a sip of coffee and looked up at Chen Yan.
"Will I be walking down that red carpet tomorrow?"
"Not leaving."
Chen Yan sat opposite her, clutching the blood-stained note he had found in Tianjin.
"You're going to reclaim what's rightfully yours."
Su Wan pushed open the door and came in, holding a list she had just pulled from the fax machine.
"Director Chen, there's news from Beijing."
She placed the list on the table in a serious tone.
"Lu Haiming sold 30% of Minghai Pictures' shares overnight, and the buyer was his competitor."
"He's in a hurry to cash out; he probably wants to run away."
Chen Yan stared at that familiar name, his fingertips tapping lightly on the table.
"He can't escape."
"All the paperwork for that piece of land in Tianjin will be on Principal Yan's desk tomorrow morning."
He stood up and walked to the window.
Outside the window, dawn was rising over the sea in Cannes.
Chen Yan took the tattered cassette tape from his pocket and threw it into the fireplace.
The flames shot up instantly, burning the black rubber strip into a wisp of black smoke.
"Lu Haiming, all talk and no action, the rain will fall even harder."
He turned his head and looked at Su Wan and Lin Qingqiu.
"Get your dress ready."
"Tomorrow night, we're going to settle the biggest debt of our lives."
(End of this chapter)