Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 21 A Touch of Old Wounds

You mean my kidneys?

Lin Qingqiu's voice brushed across the chipped tabletop. She stood ramrod straight, her guarded gaze unwavering.

"Is this how directors who graduated from the Beijing Film Academy talk?"

She emphasized the word "director".

In the corner, Zhang Yuan was breathing on the camera batteries to warm them. Hearing this, he stopped and muttered, "Damn, they're almost frozen solid."

Chen Yan ignored the sarcasm, instead picking up the empty matchbox on the table and silently twirling it between his fingers twice.

"The freshmen trained the hardest. They did four hours of side kicks every day, and their bodies would habitually lean to the right when they pulled their legs back."

Chen Yan raised his eyes, his gaze falling on her waistline. "You're not without spirit, nor are you only filled with murderous intent. It's just that you're in pain, in so much pain that you're afraid to let go."

Lin Qingqiu's shoulders relaxed slightly.

"nonsense."

She firmly refused.

"Zhang Yuan, turn on the computer."

Chen Yan gave the instructions.

Zhang Yuan was taken aback: "You're going to shoot already? The lighting won't be good; top lighting will make your face look dark."

"Just shoot it like this."

Chen Yan put the matchbox back on the table. "Zoom in, shoot her face, I want her eyes."

Zhang Yuan muttered "What a hassle," but still set up the tripod.

The focusing ring spun in his hand, making a soft friction sound.

In the shot, Lin Qingqiu's pale face is magnified little by little.

"Lin Qingqiu, show me the old injury on your back."

Chen Yan's voice was flat. "Lift up your clothes. Yuan'er is the photographer, I'm the director. This room is only for filming."

Lin Qingqiu stood still, her fingers gripping the seam of her trousers tighter and tighter, tearing a layer of creases into the worn-out training pants.

Only the mournful sound of the wind blowing through the paper windows remained inside the room.

After a long while, she slowly turned around, her back to Chen Yan.

She took a breath, her hands trembling slightly as she grabbed the hem of her black T-shirt and pulled it up five centimeters.

Just five centimeters away, Zhang Yuan behind the viewfinder steadied his breathing.

On that section of the waist, there was a dark blue hematoma, with an old yellowish tinge around the edges.

It's not a new injury; it's the result of years of using the wrong force, with the muscles pressing hard against the spine and causing it to sag.

"really."

Chen Yan walked up behind her, stopping half a step away. "This isn't dancing, it's self-harm. If you keep dancing for two more years, you won't even be able to walk steadily until you're twenty-five."

Lin Qingqiu suddenly ripped off her clothes, turned around, her eyes red and brimming with tears that refused to fall.

"What's it to you?"

Her voice trembled as she forced out the words, "I have no money. I have five younger siblings who need to go to school. What will they do if I'm not famous? I have no choice but to jump, to jump until I die."

"So your dance is terrible."

Chen Yan returned to the table, lit a cigarette, and the smoke blurred his face slightly. "When you dance, all you think about is money and fame. That kind of drive is vulgar on the dance floor. But on my camera..."

He turned to Zhang Yuan: "Yuan'er, give her a close-up. Use a flashlight to illuminate her rim from a slight angle."

Zhang Yuan pulled a metal flashlight out of his bag, and a harsh beam of light shone on Lin Qingqiu's face, half of it bright and half of it dark.

"Lin Qingqiu, look at the camera."

Chen Yan sat in the shadows, his voice low, "Don't think about the dance troupe, don't think about your brother and sister-in-law. Think about this drafty room, think about the last two yuan and fifty cents you have left for bus fare. Think about how you might rot here for the rest of your life. You're full of anger, but you have nowhere to vent it."

Lin Qingqiu looked at the dark, gaping lens.

She remembered the mockery from her classmates, the ballet shoes she couldn't bear to throw away even with worn-out soles, and the words in her mother's letter urging her to pay tuition.

Her throat bobbed, but she didn't shout out; she just clenched her back teeth.

His jawline was taut, and the defensiveness in his pupils was suppressed, replaced by a trapped, fierce glint.

"stop."

Chen Yan clapped his hands.

The air pressure in the room eased.

Zhang Yuan put down the machine and wiped the sweat from his forehead: "Chen Yan, this girl, her eyes, are amazing."

Lin Qingqiu, exhausted, leaned against the wooden stake beside him, panting heavily, her forehead soaked with sweat.

Chen Yan walked behind the camera and played back the footage.

On the screen, in the dim light and shadow, every muscle in the girl's face seemed to speak of her resentment.

"You felt it?"

Chen Yan looked at Lin Qingqiu, "The movie doesn't need you to be able to dance, it needs your face. This sense of brokenness comes from the injury on your back and the hunger in your stomach. It's real, which is why it's the most expensive."

Lin Qingqiu looked up at him, the sharpness in her eyes lessening considerably.

"Can I...act?"

"It's not that you can act. It's that only you can portray this kind of humiliation that makes the judges tremble."

Chen Yan pushed a contract in front of her.

Lin Qingqiu didn't understand production revenue sharing or global marketing; she only saw the word "actor."

"Sign it, and you'll start filming tomorrow. I'll find someone to treat your back and give you living expenses."

Chen Yan handed over a ballpoint pen with its cap chewed askew. "But I don't want you to obey. I want you to keep this murderous aura forever."

Lin Qingqiu grabbed the pen and signed his name heavily, the pen tip tearing through the paper.

"How long will this job last?"

"Work your way up to the podium at Cannes, so that everyone who laughed at you will have to look up to you."

The wooden door creaked open as it was roughly pushed open from the outside.

A cold wind blew in.

Lu Haiming stood at the door wearing a woolen overcoat, his leather shoes crunching on the muddy ground.

He covered his nose with a handkerchief and looked at the dilapidated house with disgust.

Zhang Yuan's expression changed, and he immediately protected the machine with his hand.

Chen Yan put the contract in the drawer and tilted his head at Lin Qingqiu: "Go through the back door. Wait for me at the entrance of Beijing Film Academy tomorrow morning."

Lin Qingqiu glanced at him, said nothing, and turned to go into the storage room at the back.

"Director Chen, this office is really stylish."

Lu Haiming walked in, his gaze finally landing on the old video camera. "I heard you're working on Spark here? All I see is a room full of dust."

Chen Yan sat down on the creaking stool: "President Lu, you're so busy with work, yet you come all this way to sit here and collect dust. I'm sorry to trouble you."

Lu Haiming gestured to his secretary to place the documents on the table, a smile on his face, but no warmth in his eyes.

"Pierre has responded. He is very interested in the so-called ethical issues of your short film."

Zhang Yuan's palms were sweating.

Chen Yan glanced at the document: "President Lu, you went to all this trouble just to disgust me? You don't understand Pierre at all."

"Oh?"

"He hates being pressured with morals. What you're posting will only make him feel like you're insulting his professional judgment."

Chen Yan stubbed out his cigarette. "However, I have to thank you. If it weren't for you, he might not have paid so much attention to me."

Lu Haiming's face darkened.

"Chen Yan, this industry isn't something you can get by just by winning an award. If your film doesn't get the film license, you can just wait to rot in the warehouse."

"No need for Mr. Lu to worry about it."

Chen Yan stood up and gestured for them to proceed, "The road is slippery, please take care."

Lu Haiming snorted coldly, walked to the door but stopped, turned his head, and smiled meaningfully: "By the way, I heard you found a new actress, from the Beijing Dance Academy, named Lin Qingqiu?"

Chen Yan's expression remained unchanged.

"President Lu is well-informed."

"What a pity."

Lu Haiming slowly dusted off non-existent dust from his coat. "I heard her family situation is complicated, and she's in a lot of debt. Director Chen is young and promising; don't let these trivial matters drag down your career."

The Crown car disappeared at the end of the alley.

Zhang Yuan kicked the door frame and cursed in a low voice, "Damn it, they've investigated us thoroughly."

Chen Yan didn't speak, his hand rubbing the newly signed contract in his coat pocket.

"Yuan'er, pack your things."

He began to speak.

"Where to?"

"Jinmen".

Chen Yan looked at the sky outside the alley and said, "Lu Haiming wants to use money to pressure me, so I'll just poke a hole in his money bag."