Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

"If I had one more night of starlight, I would accompany you to see all the flowers of Chang'an. Do I have one more night of starlight? No, so I have not been able to hold your hand and walk through the long streets."

"If I had a camera, I could capture all my tenderness for you. Do I have my own camera? No, so I can only hide my feelings through the lens."

"..."

"A man who isn't crazy won't become famous as a filmmaker, because only crazy directors dare to film the truth."

"..."

The constant noise yanked Chen Yan out of the boundless darkness.

Chen Yan suddenly opened his eyes and saw a cramped small theater stage with white gauze curtains hanging down and warm yellow stage lights shining down, gilding the actors in the center of the stage with a layer of gold.

For an instant.

Fragments of memory kept piecing together, giving Chen Yan a splitting headache.

Not right.

Something feels off.

It's as if I've experienced everything all along.

Chen Yan pinched his thigh hard, and the intense pain spread throughout his body. Suddenly, a bold idea popped into his mind.

I was reborn?

Wasn't I the one who, on the eve of the premiere in 2024, was turned from a promising director into a universally condemned fraudster overnight due to capital suppression and public smear campaigns, and ended up drunk on the roadside?

Is this... the Beijing People's Art Theatre's small theater?

Rehearsal scene for "Online Romance"?

What year is it now?

Chen Yan frantically reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy cell phone.

A silver flip phone with a brushed metal casing, large buttons, and a screen only one inch in size—the Nokia 8210.

The arcade game that suddenly appeared in 2000 was a "luxury" that he gritted his teeth and spent more than three thousand dollars to buy.

Open the lid, the screen lights up, and a line of numbers is clearly visible.

2000 12 Month 16 Day.

boom.

Chen Yan's mind went blank for a moment, then was filled with a torrent of memories.

He, Chen Yan, was a 98 graduate of the Cinematography Department of Beijing Film Academy. He graduated in the summer of 2002 and joined a film crew as an assistant cameraman for the first time in 2003.

In his past life, he, like countless photography students, harbored the dream of "transitioning from cinematography to directing"—a cinematographer who doesn't want to be a director isn't a good cinematographer at the Beijing Film Academy.

But reality is harsh and piercing.

He started from the bottom as a photography assistant, carrying equipment, setting up tracks, and using reflectors, working tirelessly through wind and sun, and staying up all night.

It took me twelve years to go from assistant to cameraman.

It took me six years to go from being the cinematographer to the director of photography.

It took another five years for him to go from director of photography to directing independently.

It wasn't until 2025 that his first self-written and directed film, "The Sound of Rain in the Old City," was completed, passed censorship, and had a release date set.

Twenty-three years in total.

He went from a spirited young man to a middle-aged man with slightly graying temples.

But fate is the cruelest thing.

Three days before the film's release, the partners turned against him, and the investors hired online trolls. A short essay titled "Unspoken Rules Against Actresses and Bullying of Staff on Set" completely plunged him into the abyss.

He didn't do it.

Not even half a piece.

He remained chaste his entire life, never getting involved in scandals, never seeking special privileges, and never bullying others. His only hobbies were filming and telling stories, and he rarely even spoke harshly.

But public opinion is unreasonable.

There is no denying it.

His lawsuits, clarifications, and evidence presentations were all drowned out by insults.

A lifetime of hard work, all for naught at the last minute.

In despair, he drank himself into oblivion at a bar, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself back in 2000.

They went back to a time before he graduated, before Su Wan broke up with him, and before all the tragedies happened.

Thinking of Su Wan, Chen Yan felt a mix of emotions.

In his previous life, he and Su Wan broke up in 2003.

It wasn't infidelity, it wasn't betrayal.

He was always traveling all over the country with the film crew, while she was performing in plays and filming TV series at the Beijing People's Art Theatre. They saw each other less and less, their phone calls became less and less frequent, and their conversations became less and less interesting. They gradually drifted apart.

Later, she married someone outside the entertainment industry, retired from the spotlight, and lived a peaceful life, but the light in her eyes was never the same again.

He, all alone, struggled and learned his lesson in the industry.

"Chen Yan".

A soft, pleasant voice rang in his ears. Chen Yan looked up and his heart suddenly clenched.

The girl stood in the light, her long hair flowing over her shoulders, her eyebrows curved, her skin glowing white, and she wore a simple white sweater and jeans, looking as clean as snow.

She was Su Wan, who was twenty years old.

She was his first love.

She was the girl he loved throughout his youth and regretted for the rest of his life.

"Are you thinking about your graduation project so seriously?" Su Wan asked with a smile.

Chen Yan nodded subconsciously.

Su Wan sat down with a smile, her eyes sparkling. "I knew it, our great photographer Chen was definitely planning something big."

Chen Yan's Adam's apple bobbed as he suppressed the heat welling in his eyes, his voice slightly hoarse: "Yes, I've thought it through."

From the moment he woke up until now, only an hour has passed, yet he has not only clearly sorted out his past and present lives, but also calculated his future path step by step.

Art students spend a lot of money, especially those in the photography department of Beijing Film Academy.

The tuition fee of 10,000 yuan a year is just a small fraction of the cost.

For routine shooting assignments, the cost ranges from several hundred to several thousand yuan.

Graduation projects are even more expensive; ten or twenty thousand yuan is simply not enough to show for it.

To produce an excellent graduation project, you need to spend at least several hundred thousand yuan, with no upper limit.

Chen Yan's father went into the building materials business in the 90s. He wasn't extremely wealthy, but his family was well-off, which enabled them to send Chen Yan to the Beijing Film Academy to study the most expensive photography department.

When he went home for the Chinese New Year this time, Lao Chen directly approved 60,000 yuan for him, specifically for shooting his graduation project.

In his previous life, Chen Yan's graduation project was a short film called "The Book Repairer".

It tells the story of a bookseller in the old town, imitating the style of sixth-generation directors, using handheld cameras, a cold tone, marginalization, and personal expression, resulting in an obscure yet self-indulgent film.

A typical academic-style "self-indulgent film".

Now that he's been given a second chance at life, he can't even bring himself to look down on that childish, empty, and self-indulgent work.

As the saying goes, one should become famous as early as possible. He didn't want to suffer for more than 20 years like he did in his previous life before becoming a director.

He wants to create a short film that is explosive, ruthless, award-winning, and stunning enough to amaze everyone the moment he appears.

—The Night Watch.

An original script that blends suspense, crime, psychology, and heartwarming moments. Seventeen minutes long, featuring small scenes, intense conflict, high twists and turns, and a surprising ending.

Using it as your graduation project is enough to sweep up awards on campus, and you can even submit it directly to short film festivals at home and abroad, winning awards left and right.

First, win awards to build up experience, then leverage that experience to attract investment, and finally, take the plunge and make a feature film.

Why not just make a feature film?

poor.

Old Chen is rich, but he's not a sucker.

He dared to ask for a million to make a feature film, and Old Chen could drive all night from Tianjin to drag him back to his hometown and lock him up to reflect on his actions.

"What genre?"

Upon hearing this, Su Wan's eyes lit up instantly, and she leaned closer, "Are there any roles for me? I'll act for free, I'll even pay you to do it!"

A faint scent of gardenias wafted from the girl, and Chen Yan's heart fluttered slightly, his gaze unconsciously falling on her straight and slender legs.

In his past life, he had seen countless actresses on set, all charming and beautiful, but none of them could compare to Su Wan at the age of twenty.

Cleanliness, purity, and passion are the essence of youth.

There happens to be a female convenience store clerk in "The Night Watchman" who is gentle and clean, and is the only light in the male protagonist's heart.

However, there is a close-up shot of a scene where the actor is alone on a rainy night, requiring him to use his superb acting skills to express the character's emotions.

Su Wan is too inexperienced; her acting skills are not yet up to the task.

He shook his head slightly, his tone serious: "There's no suitable role for you this time."

Su Wan pouted slightly, looking a little aggrieved: "You won't let me act again... Do you think my acting is bad?"

"no."

Chen Yan chuckled and reached out to ruffle her hair. "The role just didn't suit you. Next time there's a good role, I'll ask you for it first."