140: Chapter 140: Curing All Dissent

Su Yuyan walked in front, pushed open the iron gate, and headed inside with light, familiar steps.

The courtyard wasn't large; weeds sprouted from the gaps in the blue bricks paving the ground.

A woman stood under the porch, in her early thirties, with a round face and short hair neatly tucked behind her ears.

Seeing Su Yuyan, her eyes immediately crinkled into a smile.

"Yuyan is here, come in and sit down."

Her gaze shifted to Jiang Fan, sizing him up from head to toe.

"This must be Jiang Fan, right? Truly a handsome talent."

She tilted her head and shouted into the house: "Director Ning Yuan! The person is here, get your ass down here!"

Su Yuyan turned back and introduced: "This is my senior sister, Lin Wan."

Jiang Fan nodded in greeting.

Lin Wan had already briskly walked toward the living room, not stopping her chatter: "What would you like to drink? I have Longjing and Tieguanyin here."

"Anything is fine." Jiang Fan followed her into the living room.

The decor in the room was aged, with several movie posters hanging on the wall; one of them was from the art film that won Director Ning Yuan an award.

The bookshelf in the corner was crammed with disc cases and books about film and television.

The sound of slippers slapping against the floor came from the stairs.

A man walked down from the second floor. He wore a black T-shirt and grey shorts, with flip-flops on his feet and a cigarette clamped in his right hand.

He looked to be thirty-seven or thirty-eight, with his hair shaved extremely short, revealing the scalp at his temples.

His face had sharp, rugged features, giving off an impression that he wasn't easy to deal with.

He walked to the living room and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table.

"Yuyan is here."

"Director Ning Yuan, this is—"

"I know." Director Ning Yuan didn't let Su Yuyan finish her sentence; his gaze had already fallen on Jiang Fan.

"The one who writes songs. I quite like listening to 'sorrow relief'; those lyrics are truly well-written."

He extended his hand. Jiang Fan shook it; he had a firm grip.

"To tell you the truth, I'm quite surprised." Director Ning Yuan let go of his hand, sat down on the sofa opposite Jiang Fan, and crossed his legs.

"You're not writing songs, so why come find me? Do you think the music industry is too small for you?"

Just as Su Yuyan was about to interject, Jiang Fan had already handed over the brown paper bag in his hand.

"How about you take a look at the script first."

Director Ning Yuan took the bag and glanced down at the cover.

" 'goodbye mr. loser'?" He read aloud, his brows furrowing slightly.

"Who came up with that name?"

"Me."

"..."

Director Ning Yuan stared at the words for three seconds, his mouth twitched, but he offered no comment and set the paper bag aside.

"Sit down first."

Lin Wan brought over three cups of tea and placed them on the coffee table, the refreshing fragrance of Longjing spreading through the air.

Director Ning Yuan lit another cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled smoke through his nostrils.

"I have a few questions first."

Jiang Fan sat on the single chair opposite him and nodded.

"Who wrote the script?"

"Me."

"Have you ever filmed anything before?"

"No."

"What's the investment for this movie?"

"Forty million."

Director Ning Yuan leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, the cigarette dangling between his fingers.

"No team, no experience. You just show up with a script to find a director." He exhaled a puff of smoke. "Do you have too much money burning a hole in your pocket? Or have you been swindled?"

He waved his hand toward the door.

"Go back. Find someone else."

Lin Wan reached out and smacked the back of his head.

"How are you talking? They came all this way; the least you could do is take a look."

Director Ning Yuan rubbed the spot where he was hit, his expression unchanged.

Su Yuyan picked up her teacup and slowly blew on the steam: "Director Ning Yuan, it wouldn't be too late to chase them away after you've read the script."

"What's the point of reading it." Director Ning Yuan rolled his eyes at her. "It's definitely just a bunch of cliché plotlines. I don't have the patience to play along."

He grumbled, but still reached for the brown paper bag, tore open the seal, and pulled out the stack of papers. He opened the first page.

The living room went quiet.

Jiang Fan picked up his teacup and took a sip of Longjing.

Su Yuyan sat on the side playing on her phone, occasionally glancing at Director Ning Yuan's face from the corner of her eye.

Director Ning Yuan didn't turn the pages quickly, going through each scene one by one, occasionally pausing at a line, his lips moving silently as if reciting lines.

He forgot to smoke the cigarette clamped in his hand, the ash accumulating into a long segment, hanging there precariously.

Ten minutes passed.

His posture changed; he held the papers in his hands, much closer to his eyes, and he had uncrossed his legs.

Lin Wan watched him from the side and exchanged a look with Su Yuyan, who curled the corner of her mouth slightly.

A few more minutes passed.

Director Ning Yuan let out a "pfft" of laughter.

It was short, escaping through his nose; he quickly rubbed the side of his nose and continued turning the pages.

Further on, he laughed again; this time he couldn't hold it back, and his shoulders shook twice.

"Heh—this actually works."

Director Ning Yuan didn't look up after saying that and continued flipping through. There were two more cigarette butts in the ashtray, which he had lit absentmindedly while reading; he had only taken two puffs of each before setting them down, his full attention on the paper.

Lin Wan walked over on tiptoe and replaced his cold tea with a hot cup.

The sound of page-turning stopped.

Director Ning Yuan read the last piece of paper in his hand twice. Then he flipped it over to check the back. He picked up the brown paper bag and reached inside to feel around.

Director Ning Yuan looked up at Jiang Fan.

"What about the rest?"

"That's it."

"What do you mean 'that's it'?"

Jiang Fan set down his teacup and spread his hands.

"I was in a rush to come here, so I only brought this much."

Director Ning Yuan stared at him, his mouth opening and closing.

"You're doing this on purpose."

He paced back and forth in the living room twice, his slippers slapping against the floor.

He stopped by the window, turning his back to everyone, one hand resting on the window frame. It was quiet for about ten seconds. He turned around.

"You wrote this script yourself?"

"Yes."

"All by yourself?"

"By myself."

Director Ning Yuan's eyes narrowed; he walked back to the sofa and sat down, picked up the stack of papers again, and quickly flipped to a page in the middle. His finger tapped on a storyboard description.

"Here, 'The camera pushes in from outside the window, the trajectory is handled in slow motion, and the focus gradually transitions to Xia Luo's profile.' "

He looked up at Jiang Fan.

"How did you know the camera should move like that? Didn't you say you've never filmed anything?"

"I just played it through in my head while writing it, and felt that was how it should be shot."

Director Ning Yuan's mouth twitched. He closed the stack of papers and laid them flat on his knees.

"The density of the jokes in the first half is sufficient." His fingers tapped twice on the paper. "The structure is clear—time travel, rebirth, changing fate, inflation—the four beats are hit accurately. The lines have spirit; it's not just some stuff scraped from the internet and forced in."

He paused.

"However, the hardest part of comedy has never been making the audience laugh. You've set the character to such a high position early on—how do you flip it later? How do you drag the audience's emotions from laughter to tears? The more intense the setup, the harder the payoff."

He didn't finish, staring into Jiang Fan's eyes.

"So when can you finish the second half?"

"It's finished."

"Then why didn't you bring it over?"

Jiang Fan didn't answer.

Director Ning Yuan looked at him, and after a few seconds, the corners of his mouth curled up.

"Alright. You've got some guts, kid."

He took his cup of tea, which was already half-cold, and gulped down a large mouthful.

"Trying to keep me in suspense, huh."

Lin Wan sat in the corner, her gaze shifting back and forth between the two.

Su Yuyan sat with her arms crossed, looking like she was watching a good show.

Jiang Fan stood up, fished a business card out of his pocket, and placed it on the coffee table.

"If you want to read it, come to the company and find me."

Director Ning Yuan looked up at him. One sitting, one standing—the height difference was pronounced.

"You can also choose not to read it."

Su Yuyan leaned back in the sofa, trying hard to suppress a smile.

Director Ning Yuan looked away first. He fished a cigarette out from the coffee table.

"...What are the investor's requirements?" His tone had changed.

"I am the investor myself."

The lighter in Director Ning Yuan's hand paused, and he looked up at him.

"You're paying forty million yourself?"

"Yes."

Director Ning Yuan lit the cigarette, took a deep drag, and didn't speak again, his eyes fixed on the business card on the coffee table.

Lin Wan came out of the kitchen with a plate of sliced fruit, observed the atmosphere in the living room, placed the plate on the coffee table, sat down next to Director Ning Yuan, and nudged him with her elbow.

"Their terms are generous enough. You haven't worked for over a year; if you keep going like this, your skills will get rusty."

Lin Wan turned to look at Jiang Fan: "Little Jiang, don't mind him, he's just like this. I'll deal with him later."

Su Yuyan laughed out loud from the side.

Director Ning Yuan glared at her, then looked back at Jiang Fan. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, and put the cigarette back in his mouth for a fierce drag.

"I have one condition."

"Go ahead."

"I have the final say on casting. You can't just stuff people in."

"We can audition together. But the final decision rests with me."

Director Ning Yuan raised an eyebrow.

"On what grounds?"

"On the grounds that I wrote this script. No one knows the temperament, rhythm, and performance style of every character better than I do."