Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chen Yan buttoned up his coat and stepped onto the blue bricks of the corridor.

Su Wan caught up from behind, clutching the receipt.

"The hospital informed us that Wei Cheng has already withdrawn."

Chen Yan opened the Jeep door.

The frost on the car window was blown askew by the wind. He got into the driver's seat and put his hands on the steering wheel.

"The person ran away, but they couldn't take their belongings with them."

Su Wan slammed the hospital admission form onto the control panel. "After you get to the ward, don't bring back the cold storage to upset her. The doctor said her injuries could cause long-term effects at any time."

The engine started, emitting a deep, muffled roar.

"She used to be a dancer, so she needs that kind of fierce determination to get into character."

Chen Yan stared at the afterimage of the streetlights ahead. "This time, I'll show her what she got in return for risking her life. The choice is hers."

"You always hand the knife handle to others, and besides, the choice is in their hands."

Su Wan clenched her knuckles. "If she really becomes disabled, the whole show will be ruined."

Chen Yan took out a DV tape from the inside pocket of his coat.

The outer casing was covered with white tape, on which were his handwritten words: "[Machine A, Reverse Clock, Full Roll]".

The hospital corridor.

The smell of medicine mingled with the potato fumes from the canteen next door.

At the corner of the nurses' station, two nurses carrying trays spoke in hushed tones.

"The dancer refused to lie down. He was covered in mud and hadn't washed it off. He grabbed the doctor and asked if the camera was damaged."

"How old is that director? This is outrageous."

Chen Yan stopped at the door of the ward.

The door was ajar.

Lin Qingqiu leaned against the edge of the bed, her left shoulder wrapped in a thick support strap.

Her long hair, which originally reached her waist, was cut short, leaving the ends uneven.

She looked down and tugged at her shoelaces, but her fingers slipped, and she couldn't tie the buckle no matter what she did.

The doctor stood at the foot of the bed, holding the X-ray film in his hand.

"Lin Qingqiu, soft tissue contusion is no joke. You must be observed tonight."

"I'll sign a waiver."

Lin Qingqiu did not look up.

"Even if you sign it, it won't work. You're a patient, not a puppet in your director's hands."

The doctor turned to look at Chen Yan, who had just entered, and asked, "Are you that director?"

Chen Yan placed the DV tape on the bedside table.

"I am."

The doctor put the films back in the bag. "Her current treatment plan is to stay in bed. I won't sign it, and no one can take them away."

Su Wan handed over the hospital admission form, saying, "I'll definitely follow the rules."

Lin Qingqiu looked up, her eyes bloodshot.

"Sister Su, I can walk."

"Being able to walk doesn't mean you can take pictures."

Su Wan pressed down on her shoulder.

Chen Yan ignored their argument, pulled over the TV cart from the corner, and plugged in the DV player.

The screen flickers.

The mud pit in the cold storage room filled the entire screen.

The bronze bell, weighing tens of tons, fell askew, with a broken wooden beam hanging from its edge.

Lin Qingqiu lay prone in the mud, half of her body submerged in shadow.

She didn't cry out in pain, but instead dug five grooves into the mud with her fingers.

Camera cuts to a close-up shot from camera B.

Muddy water flowed into her eyes along her brow bone, but she didn't blink. As the back of her hand brushed against the crack in the bronze bell, the barbs drew a bloody line.

Zhang Yuan stood at the door, staring intently at the screen, feeling as if something was stuck in his throat.

In the scene, the bronze bell continues to sink, Lin Qingqiu's right hand slips off, and he grabs a broken section of the roof ridge with his other hand.

That will to survive almost pierced through the screen.

The doctor, who was about to reprimand Chen Yan, looked at the screen and stopped talking.

The screen switched back to a blue screen.

Lin Qingqiu sat on the edge of the bed, remaining motionless for a long time.

She looked at the back of her hand; the bloodstains had been washed away, leaving only a few strips of medical tape.

"I don't feel like a dancer anymore."

she says.

Chen Yan unplugged the data cable, put away the tape, and said, "You used to be dancing, now you're acting."

Is that a compliment?

"Calculation conclusions".

Chen Yan said.

Zhang Yuan rushed in at that moment, "Sister Qingqiu, that scene is amazing! I risked my life to protect it, it's guaranteed to go down in film history."

Su Wan turned to Zhang Yuan and instructed him, "Go to the back street and buy some hot porridge, with extra red dates."

"I'm not leaving; I want to protect the negatives."

Wu Gang appeared from behind and shoved an aluminum alloy insulated container into Zhang Yuan's arms. "I'll watch the stuff. You go."

After Zhang Yuan left, the doctor reattached the X-ray film to the lightbox.

"Severe spasms in the lower back muscles require observation."

Lin Qingqiu said, "If I pass the target tomorrow, I'll go back to the group."

"Sister Su, I know that they're causing trouble in Shanghai."

Lin Qingqiu took the discharge notice and said, "They want me to be a victim, but I'll refuse to be one."

Su Wan pressed down on the notification letter. "Once Wei Cheng's article is published, Shen Congzhou will bring an investigation team. It's useless for you to say you're not injured; the newspapers will only publish a picture of you lying on a stretcher."

Chen Yan pressed the cigarette against the windowsill, but didn't light it; he just held it between his fingers.

"Wei Cheng didn't come to the hospital for treatment; he came to profit from human suffering."

Chen Yan took out a piece of white paper. "Lin Qingqiu, the statement will not be issued for the time being."

Why?

"You're wearing a hospital gown, nobody believes you. Just stay here and get treatment."

Chen Yan stared out the dark window. "Filming paused."

Lin Qingqiu froze. "Are you willing to cut that scene?"

"I won't risk your whole life for a few seconds of film."

Su Wan took out a legal document from her bag. "This is a supplementary agreement for the safety of the actors."

"Lin Qingqiu, you've signed. From now on, you have the right to refuse dangerous scenes, and you can even participate in post-production sound editing. If Chen Yan rejects your proposal without a valid reason, I'll take you to arbitration."

Chen Yan nodded. "Add one more condition: you have the final say on voice modification suggestions."

Lin Qingqiu took the pen and signed his name heavily.

A nurse pushed open the door and came in, looking somewhat flustered.

"Doctor, there's a commotion in the records department. They're saying they need to check the hospital registration number."

Su Wan stood up. "You're asking for it."

Chen Yan picked up the film case and handed it to Wu Gang, saying, "Keep an eye on him. The film is right under your feet. Don't touch it, no matter who comes."

Chen Yan turned and walked through the outpatient hall.

The door to the archives was ajar, letting in the bluish light of the photocopier.

"Click, click."

Chen Yan entered the room.

Mr. Zhou, wearing a white shirt, was stuffing paper into the copier with his collar askew. When he saw Chen Yan come in, his hand suddenly trembled.

"Who...are you looking for? It's after get off work!"

Chen Yan stepped forward and reached out to press the cover of the copier.

The copy paper is still being dispensed.

The top one has the three characters "Lin Qingqiu" printed on it.

The brown paper bag on the corner of the table contained a copy of the medical records, with the character "沈" printed in black on the upper right corner of the bag.

Su Wan arrived, grabbed the leather bag, and asked, "Master Zhou, who gave you permission to copy patient files?"

Master Zhou's face flushed red. "I have a letter of introduction... saying it's from the Shanghai Film Studio, investigating a production accident."

That's stealing.

Su Wan said coldly.

Chen Yan pulled a business card out of his bag: Shanghai New Film Weekly, Wei Cheng.

Old Zhao from the security department rushed in with a flashlight. "Old Zhou, are you crazy? How much money did you charge them?"

Mr. Zhou leaned against the iron cabinet and slumped down. "My son was laid off... They said it's just making a copy of a piece of paper, it won't kill him."

Chen Yan picked up the forged letter of introduction, folded it in half, and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Old Zhao, call the police. Illegally accessing files and accepting bribes—that's enough to put him in jail for years."

"Director, I was wrong, please don't call the police!"

Chen Yan looked down at him. "The medicine ran out, and I didn't come looking for you. The film was destroyed, and I didn't come looking for you. But you dared to sell her life, and that debt can't be settled."

He turned to Su Wan and said, "Call the police station and tell them that someone was instructed by Shen Congzhou to break into a house and steal trade secrets."

The copier made a creaking sound as the paper got stuck in the output slot.

The characters on it were deformed by the heat, as if the three characters "Lin Qingqiu" were about to be torn apart.

Chen Yan's phone vibrated; Shen Congzhou's message contained only three words:

[It's not over yet.]

Chen Yan deleted the text message and looked out the window.

The knife from Shanghai has been sharpened to the point of being used against my throat.