Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 16 Breaking the Rules

When I hung up the phone, the Nokia 8210's small gray screen still had a faint glow.

The lingering warmth of the phone pressed against his ear made Chen Yan acutely aware that trouble had indeed come knocking on his door ahead of time.

Director Zhou.

Zhou Jianguo.

This name may not mean much twenty years later, but in the film bureau in 2000, it was an insurmountable obstacle.

In his previous life, Chen Yan's masterpiece was stamped with this person's seal on the final judgment document.

"What's wrong? You don't look well."

Su Wan stood to the side and gently tugged at Chen Yan's sleeve.

The iodine stain under her fingernails hadn't completely faded; that deep red mark stood out starkly against her fair skin.

"It's nothing, the bureau wants to talk to me."

Chen Yan put his phone in his pocket, then touched Su Wan's hair. It was a little frizzy and had bits of dried editing tape stuck to it. "I guess the commotion in Cannes is too big; the higher-ups need to investigate me."

"Shall I go with you?"

Su Wan looked up.

"No need, you just stay with your uncle at the school hospital. The surgery fees have been paid, and the appointment should be scheduled in the next day or two. Don't let your uncle do anything unnecessary."

Chen Yan took out the remaining few hundred yuan in change from his pocket and stuffed it into her hand. "Buy something nice, don't skimp. I'll probably be there until the afternoon."

The wind outside was stronger than it had been in the morning.

Late winter in Yanjing always has a fierce, almost scathing quality, leaving the snow on the roadside still slushy and black from being trampled.

Chen Yan walked to the school gate, intending to hail a taxi, but seeing the few red Xiali cars there and feeling the dwindling cash in his pocket, he turned and headed towards the bus stop.

The heels of the shoes crunched on the frozen mud.

He was wearing a pair of old leather shoes today, a bit too tight, with some cracks on the surface, marks left by time on cheap leather.

He knew that in that place, one couldn't fake a respectable demeanor, but one could fake professionalism.

Upon arriving at the office building where the Film Bureau is located, a sense of solemnity immediately enveloped everyone entering and exiting.

The two stone lions stared coldly at the steps.

The heating in the lobby seemed insufficient, or rather, the air itself was cold, so cold that one dared not breathe loudly.

When Chen Yan was registering at the reception desk, the ink in his fountain pen was running intermittently. He shook it several times before he could leave a black mark on the paper.

The security guard glanced at him over his reading glasses, then looked at the words "Beijing Film Academy student" in the register, said nothing, and slammed an access card with the number 12 on it onto the counter.

The sign was made of plastic, and the edges were a bit frayed.

Chen Yan took the sign and headed towards the stairs.

The second room on the left on the third floor is the tea room.

It's called a tea room, but it's actually just a small meeting room with a few wooden chairs and a large writing table.

The money tree on the windowsill had half its leaves turned yellow and looked rather forlorn because it hadn't been trimmed much.

Zhou Jianguo sat by the window, holding an enamel mug in his hand, the lid of which was chipped.

He was wearing a dark blue Zhongshan suit with a faded collar, and he was sizing up Chen Yan as he pushed the door open and entered.

At this time, Zhou Jianguo's hair was not yet completely white, and he looked more like a powerful figure than he would twenty years later.

"sit."

Zhou Jianguo pointed to the chair opposite him, his voice devoid of emotion.

Chen Yan didn't stand on ceremony. After sitting down, he straightened his back, didn't speak, and didn't look around.

At this point, the person who speaks first often reveals a corner of their hand.

Zhou Jianguo blew on the steam rising from the enamel mug and slowly took a sip.

After a long pause, he finally spoke: "Chen Yan, from the class of '98? Yan Huaizhong mentioned you to me, saying you're a photography genius. But I didn't expect that besides your steady hands, you're also quite shrewd."

He gently pushed a fax paper in front of Chen Yan.

That was a confirmation document from the Cannes organizing committee, with French and English text mixed together, and the Palme d'Or logo standing out prominently.

"Submitting films for review without authorization, bypassing the Film Bureau and directly contacting foreign film festivals. In our system, that's considered a violation, understand?"

Zhou Jianguo's voice suddenly rose, carrying an interrogative pressure. "What are you trying to do? Use an international award to circumvent your family's rules? Do you think that just because you've been nominated for Cannes, we won't dare touch your diploma?"

Chen Yan glanced at the paper but didn't take it.

In his past life, he also knelt before a similar threshold, begging those sitting in chairs to take another look at his film.

But today, he doesn't want to kneel anymore.

"Director Zhou, rules are rules."

Chen Yan spoke, his throat a little dry, and he cleared it. "But what I have in my hands is alive. I want to go to Cannes not to gild my own resume, but to find a way out for Chinese cinema."

"A way out?"

Zhou Jianguo chuckled. "The path is right under your feet. Follow the rules to get the film approved, obtain the film license, and wait for screenings. That's the path. What you're doing is jumping off a cliff."

Chen Yan tapped the table, his knuckles making a crisp sound on the wooden surface.

"Director Zhou, we're going to join the WTO next year."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Jianguo paused for a moment while holding his teacup.

"Once Hollywood movies flood the domestic market, how many people will still watch our old-fashioned narratives? Can those drawn-out, artistic films that emphasize atmosphere withstand the impact of America's large planes and bombs?"

Chen Yan spoke slowly, but every word was deliberate and weighty. "My film, *The Night Watchman*, is a short film, but while I use Hollywood editing techniques and suspenseful plots, its core is a true reflection of the lives of ordinary people in China. This is called exporting and generating foreign exchange, or cultural export. If I can bring back a foreign exchange issuance contract from Cannes, if my film can be broadcast on European television, Director Zhou, wouldn't that be an achievement for you?"

Zhou Jianguo fell silent.

He slowly put down the enamel mug and looked Chen Yan over again, as if he were looking at a madman, or as if he were reassessing an opponent.

The young man before me did not possess the arrogance of an artist; instead, he exuded a maturity and precision that surpassed even his own.

This sense of incongruity made him uncomfortable, but Chen Yan's mention of export earnings and WTO accession really hit his weak spot.

At this critical juncture where political achievements are valued and transformation is emphasized, a young person who can bring honor to Chinese films on the international stage and bring back substantial US dollars is indeed more valuable than those obedient students who only know how to study.

How can you guarantee you'll be able to sell it?

Zhou Jianguo asked, his tone softening somewhat.

"Lin Shufen is already helping me contact domestic and international media to create momentum."

Chen Yan directly revealed his trump card. "Moreover, I don't just have 'The Night Watchman' in my hands. I have a feature film project specifically targeting the international market. The investment isn't high, but the returns will be absolutely amazing. As long as the bureau gives the green light, I can sign a guaranteed contract."

Zhou Jianguo stood up, walked to the half-withered money tree, plucked a dead leaf, and crushed it in his palm.

"You're very brave."

He had his back to Chen Yan, and his voice was very low. "But Qi Feng is sticking to this story very tightly. He has someone backing him, Lu Haiming of Haiming Film and Television. You know what kind of person he is."

Chen Yan stood up, her tone calm: "Lu Haiming's letter of apology is in my bag right now. He doesn't dare touch it. As for Teacher Qi, he's just too concerned about that director's title. Director Zhou, you're concerned about the bigger picture."

Zhou Jianguo turned his head and suddenly smiled.

The smile didn't hold much warmth, but it conveyed a sense of approval.

"Alright, stop flattering me. The ministry will hold another meeting about your case. As long as your 'Night Watch' didn't involve any underhanded tactics or tarnish our image, I'll make an exception."

Zhou Jianguo personally escorted Chen Yan to the door.

The wind in the corridor was still cold.

As soon as Chen Yan stepped out of the office building, he saw Qi Feng hunched over and smoking under the shade of a tree not far away.

Cigarette butts littered the ground; he had clearly been waiting for a long time.

His face turned somewhat pale at this point, especially when he saw that Director Zhou had personally escorted Chen Yan out; the cigarette he had just lit almost fell out of his mouth.

Chen Yan ignored him and walked straight past him.

The smell of cheap tobacco mixed with the sourness of anxiety made him feel nauseous.

"Chen Yan, stop right there!"

Qi Feng's voice was hoarse.

Chen Yan stopped walking, but didn't turn around.

"Don't get too cocky."

Qi Feng strode up and lowered his voice. "I know what you're up to. You think you've got everything under control just because you bribed Lu Haiming and got the letter from Cannes? Let me tell you, I kept the negatives of that rain scene a secret."

Chen Yan frowned slightly and turned to look at him.

"What do you mean?"

"That day at the convenience store, did you get into a fight with some thugs while protecting Wu Lei?"

Qi Feng sneered, revealing a set of teeth stained yellow by smoking. "There was a camera angle that wasn't in the shot, but it accidentally recorded some things that shouldn't have been there. The violent actions in that rain scene, if you cut them out a little, would be seen as promoting violence and obscenity, enough to prevent you from ever getting a film license."

Chen Yan narrowed his eyes.

He genuinely doesn't remember having any other cameras besides the main and secondary cameras at the time.

The reason this part didn't go wrong in the previous life was because the film was confiscated at that time.

In this life, he forcibly retrieved the film negatives, but he couldn't guard against the backstabbing tactics of a villain like Qi Feng.

Just then, Chen Yan felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

He took it out and saw that it was a text message sent by Zhou Jianguo.

Just one sentence: [Someone is digging up unedited footage of your rainy night scene in "The Night Watchman," claiming to have found prohibited content. Be careful.]

Chen Yan looked at the text message and felt a part of his heart sink.

That old fox Zhou Jianguo didn't say anything while he was inside, but waited until he came out before sending the text message.

This is both a favor and a test of his ability to handle situations.

Qi Feng was still rambling on and on, spouting clichés like "your future is ruined" and "you'll be expelled from school."

"Teacher Qi."

Chen Yan suddenly interrupted him.

His tone was so soft that Qi Feng involuntarily shut his mouth.

"Who has that footage?"

"It's none of your business. In short, as long as I don't agree, your Cannes dream is a joke."

Qi Feng straightened his back, as if he had regained some of his authority.

Chen Yan nodded.

He suddenly reached out and straightened Qi Feng's crooked collar.

The movement was natural, yet it carried a pressure that made one's back tighten.

"It's getting dark, Teacher Qi. The roads are slippery, so please be careful on your way back to school."

After saying that, Chen Yan turned and left.

Qi Feng stood there stunned. A gust of cold wind blew, and he realized that his back was covered in a layer of cold sweat.

Chen Yan did not return to school.

He first went to a stationery store on the back street and bought a utility knife, then went to a convenience store and bought a pack of the most expensive Zhonghua cigarettes.

He sat on a stone bench at the entrance of the alley, opened a cigarette but didn't smoke it himself, just watched the city gate gradually sink into darkness in the distance.

Some things didn't happen in the previous life because he wasn't strong enough in that life.

In this life, as he begins to accelerate, the dust and pebbles he stirs up will eventually hit him.

"Hey, is this the pipe?

Chen Yan dialed the number of the underground distributor.

"Young Master Yan, what's up? Another infiltration mission?"

A loud, noisy film processor came from the other end of the phone.

"Check with the film processing plant. Has anyone been secretly going through their old negatives lately? Especially the blood-stained ones. I need to know who has those tapes now. Give me a straight answer by tonight."

Chen Yan hung up the phone, twirled the utility knife between his fingers, and finally clicked as the blade retracted.

The streetlights flickered and then lit up.

The dim light fell on his face, half bright and half dark.

He sat in the dark for a long time.

It wasn't until Su Wan sent a message saying that her father had woken up and was clamoring for the braised noodles he made that things changed.

Chen Yan patted the dirt off his bottom.

"It's time to go back."

He muttered to himself.

When Su Wan returned to the school hospital, she had already fallen asleep on a wooden bench in the corridor.

She folded the receipt neatly and held it in her palm.

Chen Yan didn't wake her up, but simply took off his coat and gently covered her with it.

The smell of cold tea from Zhou Jianguo's office still lingered in the coat, as did the decadent smell of tobacco emanating from Qi Feng.

Chen Yan stood in the shadows, watching the snowflakes fall again outside the window, but felt a chill in his heart.