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Chapter 137 Light Rain

"What's wrong?"

"Wang Zhonglei's side has made a move."

Yuan Tao said.

"He registered a new company called Huayi New Life. The shareholder list includes several familiar names, all of whom are directors and producers who have worked closely with Huayi in the past."

Moreover, they are preparing a film about painters from the Republican era.

Li Jun frowned: "What a coincidence?"

"It can't be a coincidence."

Yuan Tao said.

"I inquired about it, and their script outline is very similar to ours, but more commercialized, with added romance subplots."

Family feuds, even elements of espionage. It's clearly aimed at us.

Li Jun remained silent. Outside the window, the sun shone brightly, and several sparrows chirped on the eaves.

"Li Jun?"

When Yuan Tao received no response, he asked again.

Li Jun said.

"Let's keep making our films. Let them make theirs, and the audience can judge for themselves."

"But they'll be showing their films before we do."

Yuan Tao offered a reminder.

"I heard that Huayi Xinsheng has already finalized the filming plan, which will be completed in three months and released during the May Day holiday next year."

What about us? We'll be filming until at least the end of the year, plus another three months for post-production, so the earliest we can expect is next summer.

"Then let them go first."

Li Jun remained calm.

Good movies are worth watching later.

Yuan Tao sighed: "You're still so calm."

"Otherwise what?"

Li Jun said.

"Engaging in a war of words with them? Or speeding up the process while sacrificing quality? That would be falling into their trap."

"you're right."

Yuan Tao paused.

"But we still need to be careful. Wang Zhonglei has no bottom line when it comes to doing things."

"I know."

After hanging up the phone, Li Jun walked to the window. The distant mountains looked exceptionally verdant in the afternoon sunlight.

At the foot of the mountain, villagers were working in the fields, their figures small, like moving dots.

He recalled Lin Shen's words: "Painting a mountain is not about painting every single rock, but about painting the spirit and essence of the mountain."

The same applies to movies.

It's not about who shoots the fastest or who hypes it the most, but about who captures the essence of the story and who brings out the soul of the characters.

Wang Zhonglei didn't understand this.

He thought movies were commodities, competitors, and adversaries that could be defeated through various means.

But he was wrong.

Li Jun took a deep breath; the air smelled of sunshine and grass.

He was even more focused during the afternoon shoot.

The scenes filmed tonight were night scenes.

Lin Shen stayed up all night painting in his studio when Wanrong brought him a late-night snack.

This was one of the few tender moments between the two, and also the last moment of peace before the war.

The scene was still the same art studio, but the lighting had completely changed.

The natural light of the daytime was replaced by the warm yellow glow of oil lamps and candlelight, flickering and casting swaying shadows on the wall.

Nicholas Tse sat at his painting table, the Xuan paper in front of him already mostly finished.

It is a long scroll painting of mountains and rivers, with steep mountains and rapid waters, but there are thatched huts in the mountains and small boats on the water, with faint traces of cooking fires.

Qin Hailu came in carrying a tray with a bowl of porridge and two small dishes on it.

She didn't speak immediately, but gently placed the painting on the corner of the painting table, then stood aside and quietly watched her husband paint.

Nicholas Tse didn't look up; his pen moved across the paper, but his movements slowed.

"Not finished yet?"

Qin Hailu asked softly.

"Soon."

Nicholas Tse said his voice was a little hoarse.

"Just a few more strokes left."

"Eat something first, the porridge is getting cold."

Nicholas Tse finally put down his pen and looked up at her.

In the candlelight, both of their faces were enveloped in a soft glow.

Qin Hailu pushed the bowl of porridge in front of him and handed him chopsticks.

Nicholas Tse took it and ate it slowly.

His gaze remained fixed on the painting, his eyes filled with an indescribable focus, as if the painting were more important than the food in front of him.

Qin Hailu looked at him, seemingly wanting to say something but then stopping himself.

"What do you want to say?"

Nicholas Tse asked, his eyes still fixed on the painting.

"Someone came from the city today and said that war is imminent again."

Qin Hailu's voice was very soft.

"Evacuation may be necessary."

Nicholas Tse paused for a moment, then continued eating his porridge.

"understood."

He said.

"This painting."

Qin Hailu looked at the drawing paper.

"Is it important?"

Xie Tingfeng put down the bowl, picked up the brush, dipped it in ink, and wrote a poem in one corner of the painting.

He wrote: "In the autumn of Jia Shen year, amidst the chaos of the world, I painted this landscape to express my feelings through brush and ink, and to console myself."

Then he put down his pen and finally looked at his wife: "It's not important. But if I don't paint, I don't know what else to do."

Qin Hailu's eyes reddened, but she held back her tears and simply nodded: "Then paint it. I'll go with you."

She walked to the window and opened it. The night breeze blew in, and the candlelight flickered.

Outside the window, it was pitch black, with only a few scattered lights in the distance.

Nicholas Tse picked up his pen again and continued to draw the last few strokes.

The camera slowly zooms out, from inside the studio to outside the window. Through the windowpane, two figures can be seen in the candlelight: one painting, the other waiting.

"Cut!"

Li Jun called a halt.

The room was silent for a few seconds, then applause broke out.

The scene was filmed in one take, and Xie Tingfeng and Qin Hailu's performances were delicate, with all their emotions hidden in their eyes and subtle movements.

The tender affection shown between people in turbulent times is more moving than any sentimental dialogue.

Nicholas Tse stood up from the painting table, walked behind the monitor, and watched the playback with Li Jun.

The scene is beautiful.

The candlelight, the ink, the texture of the rice paper, and the light and shadow on the figures' faces combine to create a flowing classical painting.

Li Jun pointed to the moment Qin Hailu opened the window.

"When the wind blew in, the candlelight flickered, and your pen paused for a moment."

This detail is excellent. Lin Shen's mind was in turmoil, but his hands couldn't falter.

Nicholas Tse nodded: "What I was thinking at the time was that he knew war was coming and that the days of peace were numbered, but the landscapes he painted had to be complete."

This is a sense of ritual.

"right."

Li Jun said.

"Use rituals to combat uncertainty."

Qin Hailu also came over, his eyes still red: "At this time, Wanrong should be both worried and understanding."

She knew she couldn't persuade her husband, so she could only stay with him, even if it meant sinking together.

Looking at the two actors, Li Jun felt a warm feeling well up in his heart.

Having such actors is a director's good fortune.

The night shoot was finished, and it was already past 11 p.m.

The film crew packed up their equipment, ready to wrap up filming. Xie Tingfeng and Qin Hailu changed back into casual clothes and removed their makeup.

They all looked a little tired, but their eyes were bright, a result of the excitement brought on by their creative work.

Li Jun was the last to leave the studio. Before turning off the light, he looked back one last time.

The studio was empty, and the "Landscape Scroll" was still laid out on the painting table. It was actually a prop painting that Master Li had painted in advance.

The candlesticks had gone out, and moonlight shone in through the window, casting patterns of windowpanes on the floor.

In that instant, he seemed to truly see Lin Shen and Wanrong sitting at the painting table, one painting and the other waiting.

He closed the door gently.

Stepping out of the private residence, the village was already quiet.

Only a few streetlights were on, casting a dim, yellowish glow on the bluestone pavement.

The night sky was very clear, and the Milky Way was visible.

Li Jun did not go back immediately, but walked slowly along the village road.

The air was cool and damp with dew. The chirping of insects drifted from afar, sometimes loud, sometimes soft.

He thought of Zhang Liangying.

What was she doing at that moment?

They must have just finished work.

What are the differences between a night in a recording studio and a night in southern Anhui?

He took out his phone, intending to call her, but after checking the time, he put it down again.

It's too late; she's probably already asleep.

Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Zhang Liangying: "Have you finished filming the night scenes? I just came out of the recording studio and am on my way home."

I recorded a new song today called "Ink Marks," which tells the story of a painter and his wife. I'll sing it for you when you come back.

Li Jun smiled and replied, "Filming is finished, it went smoothly. Be careful, let me know when you get home."

"Okay. You should get some rest too."

Li Jun put down his phone and continued walking forward.

He stopped under the old camphor tree at the entrance of the village.

The tree trunk is very thick; it takes three or four people to encircle it.

The tree canopy swayed gently in the night breeze.

He leaned against the tree trunk and lit a cigarette.

Smoke rose in wisps under the moonlight, then dissipated into the night.

At this moment, he was very calm.

Making movies is a tough job; you have to get up early and go to bed late, endure wind and sun, and face immense pressure.

But there are also moments when, in some unfamiliar place, after completing a great performance, one feels a pure joy of creation.

This joy is irreplaceable by any award or box office success.

After finishing his cigarette, he walked back.

When I passed by the Party Secretary's house, I saw that the light was still on in the window.

The Party Secretary was reading the newspaper under the lamp, while his wife was mending clothes.

It was an ordinary scene, but on this night, it felt especially warm.

Li Jun recalled a line from the script, which Lin Shen said to his students: "Art is not for immortality, but for creating memorable moments within a finite life."

He understands now.

The filming went smoothly for the next few days.

But the good weather didn't last long.

On the fifth day, it started raining again.

It wasn't the usual drizzle common in southern Anhui; it was a downpour, pouring down from morning till night.

Since outdoor scenes couldn't be filmed, the plan had to be adjusted, and indoor scenes would be filmed first.

But the scenes in the art studio have been mostly filmed; the rest are outdoor scenes that require specific weather conditions.

The film crew was trapped in the village.

As the rain continued for the third day, everyone began to feel anxious.

Every day of delay incurs a cost.

The budget was already tight, and if we keep going like this, we might run into financial difficulties later.

The production manager approached Li Jun for a discussion: "Director Li, how about we change locations first?"

We're going to Nanjing to film interior scenes; we'll come back when the rain stops.

Li Jun looked at the rain outside the window and shook his head: "No. The scenery here is continuous, and so are the emotions."

When the scene changes and the actor returns, their performance will be disrupted.

"But who knows when this rain will stop—"

"Then let's wait."

Li Jun was very determined.

"We can afford to wait."

That being said, the pressure is very real.

The first thing Li Jun does every morning when he wakes up is check the weather forecast, but the forecast always says "moderate to heavy rain".

The atmosphere on set gradually became somewhat gloomy. With nothing to do, the staff could only play cards, chat, and play on their phones.

Nicholas Tse and Qin Hailu remained calm, spending their days in the studio rehearsing, practicing calligraphy, and drinking tea, turning their waiting into preparation.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, the rain lessened a bit, but it still hadn't stopped.

Li Jun was taking a walk in the village, holding an umbrella.

The bluestone path was washed clean by the rain, and water droplets dripped from the eaves on both sides.

The entire village was shrouded in rain and mist, with distant mountains hidden in the gray-white fog.

He walked to the hillside behind the village, where there was a small pavilion.

Standing in the pavilion, you can overlook the entire village, with its white walls and black tiles arranged in a pleasing, staggered pattern, shrouded in rain and mist, like a traditional Chinese ink painting.

He suddenly had an idea.

Upon returning to his residence, he immediately convened a meeting with the main creative team.

"I want to add a scene."

Li Jun got straight to the point.

"The scene where Lin Shen and Wanrong are taking a walk in the rain."

Everyone was stunned.

"But this scene isn't in the script."

Xiao Chen said.

"Now we have it."

Li Jun opened his notebook, on which was the scene outline he had just written in the pavilion.

"The rain kept falling, and Lin Shen, having stayed in the studio for a long time, became restless and agitated."

Wanrong took him out for a walk, and the two of them walked in the rain under an oil-paper umbrella.

There weren't many lines; it was just a walk, watching the village in the rain.

Nicholas Tse thought for a moment: "What is this scene trying to express?"

"It expresses a way of finding the everyday amidst impermanence."

Li Jun said.

"War is imminent, the rain is incessant, and everything is out of control."

But the two can still take a walk together, watch the rain, and exchange a glance under an umbrella.

Qin Hailu nodded: "I understand."

Wanrong wasn't trying to comfort her husband; she simply wanted to stay by his side and try to create some order amidst the chaos.

"right."

Li Jun said.

"Just like when Lin Shen paints landscapes on paper, he is also creating order."

Master Li interjected, "But with such heavy rain, filming will be very difficult. Lighting and sound recording are all problems."

"Just use natural light."

Li Jun said.

"The light on a rainy day has its own unique texture. The recording can be dubbed in post-production. The key is to capture that atmosphere."

After discussing it for a while, everyone agreed that the idea was feasible.

Besides, since we can't film the originally planned scenes anyway, we might as well try something new.

Just do it.

The art department went to prepare oil-paper umbrellas and costumes, the photography department went to scout locations and select angles, and Xie Tingfeng and Qin Hailu went to rehearse their lines.

The rain was still falling, but the crew's energy had returned.

The rain lessened the next morning, turning into a light drizzle.

The filming location was chosen in a narrow alley in the village. The alley was very narrow, with high gable walls on both sides, and the bluestone pavement was shiny from being soaked by rain.

Xie Tingfeng was wearing a gray long gown, and Qin Hailu was wearing a moon-white cheongsam. The two of them shared an oil-paper umbrella.

The umbrella was old, with simple plum blossoms painted on its surface.

"Scene 47, Shot 1 of 'Dreams of Mountains and Rivers,' begin!"

The clapperboard clicked.

The two walked slowly from the depths of the alley. The umbrella was small, and Xie Tingfeng tilted it towards Qin Hai Road, getting his left shoulder wet from the rain.

There were no lines, only the sounds of footsteps and rain.

Qin Hailu gently linked arms with Xie Tingfeng, the movement natural, as if it were a habit he had maintained for many years.

The two stopped at the alley entrance. Before them flowed a small river, its waters swollen from the rain, gurgling as it flowed. Across the river were rice paddies, lush and green, appearing even more vibrant in the rain.

Xie Tingfeng stared at the river, his eyes somewhat vacant.

Qin Hailu turned to look at him and said softly, "The village is also very beautiful in the rain."

Xie Tingfeng snapped out of his daze, turned to look at her, and gave a faint smile: "Mm."

Then he looked at the mountains shrouded in the rain in the distance: "I just don't know how much longer I can enjoy this view."

Qin Hailu did not answer, but simply gripped his hand tighter.

The two stood there, looking at the mountains and rivers in the rain.