vstars Chapter 120 What they want to destroy is not just Lei Ming
Chapter 120 What they want to destroy is not just Lei Ming
The Passat's wheels rolled over gravel, and the car bounced and swayed through the potholes.
Chen Yan moved his fingers away from the scar on the back of his head, which felt like a foreign object embedded in his flesh, hard and unyielding.
He didn't ask any questions.
The car's fragrance was sickeningly sweet, like rotten honey.
The man in black driving kept his eyes on the road ahead, his fingers gripping the steering wheel steadily and firmly.
Chen Yan's phone vibrated.
He glanced at the caller ID; it was Su Wan.
"explain."
The voice on the other end of the phone sounded urgent, with the background noise of rapid keyboard typing.
"Something's happened. Zhou Man from the Beijing Youth Daily published a front-page article with the headline, 'Blood Under the Golden Palm: A Carnival of Exploiting the Dead.'"
Su Wan speaks very quickly.
"The report said that you used the real murder case at the Tianjin Bell Tower to hype up the story, and packaged the scars on Lin Qingqiu's legs as a selling point, using the suffering of the lower class to gild your own image."
"Lin Qingqiu's scheduled public lecture at the vocational school this afternoon has just been canceled by the school. The reason given is that they are worried about the risk of negative public opinion from us."
Chen Yan's gaze passed through the car window and landed on the silhouette of the clock tower in the distance.
"What did Qingqiu say?"
"She didn't cause a scene. She called the school principal back and said that she didn't need the venue, but the students couldn't be absent. She was going to the school gate, right by the roadside, to finish what she needed to say."
The car made a sharp turn, leaving the main road leading to the clock tower and turning onto a narrower dirt road.
Su Wan paused for a moment on the other end, lowering her voice even further.
"This doesn't seem like Zhou Man's doing alone. The person behind this firstly smeared 'Thunder' to ruin your reputation. The second step was to put the blame for Lu Haiming's suicide back on your head."
"They want to force the authorities to intervene and halt the approval process for your new cinema chain."
"Chen Yan, you must come back."
The Passat stopped in front of a row of dilapidated tenement buildings.
The man in black who was leading the group turned around and gestured for Chen Yan to proceed.
Chen Yan was on the phone.
"I'm not going back."
Su Wan's voice betrayed surprise.
"What if things get out of control if you don't come back?"
Chen Yan pushed open the car door and stepped onto the muddy ground.
"You can control it."
He hung up the phone.
……
BJ, headquarters of Stellar Media Group.
Su Wan put down her phone, and the office fell silent.
Lin Shufen sat on the sofa, the cigarette between her fingers burned to the end.
"Did he really say that?"
Su Wan didn't answer. She walked to the French windows and looked at the endless stream of cars below.
A few seconds later, she turned around.
"President Lin, you'll be in charge of coordinating with the theater chains. All contracted theaters must guarantee at least 50% of their screenings of 'Thunder' on its opening day. Anyone who dares to withdraw at the last minute will be charged three times the amount stipulated in the contract."
Lin Shufen stubbed out her cigarette.
"What about Wang Jianguo's side? His people are in charge of the box office system."
"I'll go talk to him."
Su Wan picked up her coat. "All 1,200 copies of 'Thunder' have been reprinted nationwide. The opening ceremony of the new theater will be held as scheduled at 10 a.m. the day after tomorrow."
She walked to the door and looked back at Zhang Yuan, who had been silent in the corner.
"Zhang Yuan, take your men and the best equipment, and go film Lin Qingqiu."
Zhang Yuan jumped up from his chair.
"What are you filming?"
"Film her at the school gate, facing the curb and passersby, to see how she managed to finish that presentation."
Su Wan opened the door.
"Find the media we trust most to broadcast the entire event live."
……
Former site of Shen Fusheng, HQ District, Tianjin.
Chen Yan followed the man in black up the creaking stairs.
Wu Gang followed behind, the iron rod in his hand hanging at his side, its metal end dragging on the cement ground.
The door was unlocked.
Pushing open the door, I was greeted by the strong smell of turpentine and drawing paper.
The room was dark, with the curtains drawn.
The walls were covered with paintings.
It's neither an oil painting nor a watercolor.
It's the storyboard for a movie.
Sheets of draft paper were pinned to the wall with thumbtacks, stretching from the entryway all the way to the bedroom, densely packed together.
Chen Yan stopped in his tracks.
He walked up to a wall and looked at a set of cameras on it.
A man stood at the entrance of an old alley, holding a black umbrella. Rainwater streamed down the edge of the umbrella, and the ground reflected the images of neon signs.
A stray cat was licking its paws at the man's feet.
The camera zooms in, focusing on the tips of the man's worn-out leather shoes, soaked by the rain.
Chen Yan reached out his hand, his fingertips touching the edge of the drawing paper.
He knew these paintings to the core.
The man in black stood at the doorway but did not come in.
"Director Chen, that person said you should recognize these things."
Wu Gang stepped forward and stood in front of Chen Yan.
"Who is your boss?"
The man didn't answer, but simply took out a small remote control from his pocket and pressed a button.
A faint hum of electricity could be heard coming from the bedroom.
An old slide projector was turned on, and the beam of light was projected onto the white wall opposite.
The storyboard images began to switch.
Rainy night, old city, arguing couple, speeding police car, a figure teetering on the edge of a rooftop.
Chen Yan's breathing stopped.
Wu Gang turned around and looked at him.
"Brother Yan, what's this?"
Chen Yan did not answer.
These storyboard drafts are his debut work, "The Sound of Rain in the Old City," which he painstakingly crafted over twenty-three years in his previous life.
The entire manuscript was taken away by the investors under the pretext of "internal review" just before the film's release, and was subsequently lost.
They shouldn't be here.
This shouldn't have happened in Tianjin twenty years ago.
The slideshow has switched to the last panel.
That was a group photo of the film crew after filming wrapped.
In the photo, Chen Yan, who looks more than twenty years younger, stands behind the director's monitor with a tired smile on his face.
Behind him, a man in a suit and gold-rimmed glasses was looking at the camera.
That man was the same capitalist who orchestrated his downfall back then.
It was also in that black and white photo taken at the Red Flag Photo Studio that the young man standing next to He Ping had a red X badge pinned to his chest.
Chen Yan's gaze was fixed on that face.
A long-dormant switch within him was flipped.
Fragments of memories from his past life assaulted his senses.
The sound of a bottle shattering, the sight of a torn contract, the black van with its window rolled down as the drunkard passed out on the street, and the face behind that window with a contemptuous smile.
Why?
Chen Yan's voice was very soft, as if he were asking himself.
The man in black at the door spoke.
"That person said he was just taking back what was rightfully his."
He said, "You're a very interesting thief."
Chen Yan turned around abruptly.
Where is he?
The man took a step back and closed the door.
The sound of the latch closing came from outside the door.
Wu Gang rushed over and kicked the door.
"Bang!"
The wooden door vibrated, but did not open.
It is a steel-core security door.
Wu Gang swung the iron rod and smashed it down on the door lock.
Sparks flew everywhere.
The door panel was dented into a deep pit, but it remained completely still.
"It's no use."
Wu Gang stopped, panting heavily, "This house has been altered; it's a dead end."
Chen Yan ignored the door.
He walked to the window and yanked open the curtains.
There's no street outside the window.
It was a newly built brick wall, the cement of which had not yet dried completely.
They were sealed inside this room.
Chen Yan returned to the wall covered with storyboard drafts for "Rain in the Old City".
He looked at them one by one.
In the final scene, in the lower right corner of the drawing of the protagonist jumping to his death, he sees a line of small words written in pencil.
The handwriting was very light, almost worn away.
"I didn't design the clock tower."
Chen Yan's pupils contracted.
He pulled out the drawing and turned it over.
The back is empty.
He picked up the table lamp and shone the light on the back of the paper.
On the back of the pencil marks, there are several marks made by scratching with a hard object.
That's an address.
"Tianjin, Seventh Mental Rehabilitation Center, Building 3, Ward 407."
Chen Yan put down the drawing.
He got it.
This is not a dead end.
This is another path that "Red Cross" pointed him to.
It's also a multiple-choice question.
To stay here and be trapped by the walls of public opinion and reality is to die.
Let's follow the clues he gave us and dig deeper into a secret.
Chen Yan picked up the lighter on the table and lit the corner of a storyboard.
Flames leaped up, licking the drawing paper.
He watched as the man with the umbrella in the rain curled up, deformed, and turned to ashes in the flames.
Wu Gang walked over.
"Brother Yan, what should we do?"
Chen Yan threw the burning drawing on the ground.
"burn."
He walked to another wall, tore off a stack of storyboards, and lit them with a lighter.
"Burn this whole place down."
The firelight reflected in his pupils.
Things from the past life should not be carried into this life.
He looked at the flames engulfing the wall, took out his phone, and dialed Liang Qinian's number.
The phone rang for a long time, and was finally answered in the last second before it was about to hang up automatically.
There was no sound from the receiver.
Chen Yan spoke only one sentence into the microphone.
Where is Shen Fusheng?