Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 28: Artistic Atrocities

"Chen Yan, look at this!"

Su Wan's voice trembled as she slammed an official handbook from the Palace of Film Festivals onto the table.

She hadn't slept all night, and her eyes were dark.

The front page of the handbook features not any international superstar, but a commentary article marked in bold French and English—"The Shadow Behind the Screen: The Cost of 'Reality' in Eastern Cinema."

The accompanying image is a still from the TV series "The Night Watchman" featuring Su Wan.

Rainwater mixed with mud and grime; she was being choked, her expression one of pain.

The camera angle was unusual, making it look shocking.

The author is Jean-Pierre, a senior theater critic for the French magazine "Screen".

The article makes no mention of the plot, and throughout it is written in a compassionate tone, implying that Chinese directors, in pursuit of artistic effects, disregard the safety of actors and engage in "artistic atrocities."

"That son of a bitch Lu Haiming, his reach is really long!"

Zhang Yuangang had just finished servicing the camera lens when he came out of the inner room and cursed, "These foreigners haven't even watched the film, and they're already throwing mud at us from afar?"

Lin Qingqiu came out of the restroom.

She changed into a plain black cheongsam, with a very tight waistline.

To maintain her figure, she hasn't eaten or drunk anything since last night.

She glanced at the newspaper, remained silent, and simply looked at Chen Yan.

This book is first published on 111k.com, providing you with a reading experience without errors or disordered chapters.

Chen Yan picked up the cup of coffee on the table, which had gone cold, and drank the last sip. The sour and bitter liquid slid down his throat.

"Walk."

He picked up his briefcase. "Press conference, one hour early."

……

The air conditioning in the media center of the Palais des Festivals in Cannes was so cold it made your skin feel tight.

As soon as Chen Yan and his entourage entered the venue, the previously noisy scene visibly quieted down.

Dozens of reporters from all over the world scanned Chen Yan and Su Wan like searchlights.

Su Wan sat on the stage, her palms covered in cold sweat.

"Mr. Chen."

The first person to ask a question was the author of that article, a French man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, Jean-Pierre.

His tone was calm, yet carried the arrogance of a judge: "Before discussing art, I'd like to confirm one fact. To my knowledge, during the filming of *Night Watch*, the lead actress was submerged in waist-deep sewage for over four hours, resulting in a lung infection. Do you believe this behavior violates basic filmmaking ethics?"

The flashbulbs of the cameras below the stage exploded instantly, like a group of sharks smelling blood.

Su Wan's face turned pale instantly.

She did indeed have a tough time filming, but the "lung infection" claim was completely fabricated.

This was because Lu Haiming bribed people in China to falsify medical records.

All cameras and all eyes were focused on Chen Yan.

Chen Yan ignored the translator beside him and simply reached out and pushed the microphone in front of him forward.

"Buzz—"

A piercing noise silenced the entire room.

"Mr. Jean-Pierre".

Chen Yan called out the other person's full name and corrected his self-introduction, "In your article, you used the word 'cost.' Before discussing the cost, we need to look at the facts."

He took a black USB drive out of his pocket and handed it to the technician next to him.

"Before answering your question, please watch something. Some 'behind-the-scenes' footage that wasn't included in the main feature."

The large screen lights up.

The image has a very grainy texture, indicating it's an old surveillance video from over a decade ago.

At a dusty construction site, several well-dressed men stood by a mud pit, pointing and gesturing at a group of migrant workers who were salvaging equipment from the muddy water.

A young man's profile flashed by; it was Lu Haiming in his youth.

In the background audio of the video, the sound of them discussing how to deduct the "compensation" can be clearly heard.

The media center was deathly silent.

"This is real pain."

Chen Yan's voice echoed in the hall, calm yet cruel, "And my film is a tribute to these forgotten truths. When Ms. Su Wan was filming in the water, there were professional temperature control equipment and a medical team on set. If you define the professional sacrifices of actors as 'atrocities,' then what should we call your silence on these real sufferings on screen for more than a decade?"

Jean-Pierre's face turned a deep shade of liver; he hadn't expected Chen Yan to throw something like this out directly.

In the shadows of the back row, a man in a black trench coat put down his notebook.

He is a jury member for this year's "Un Certain Regard" section, and a Greek director.

He looked at the old images on the screen, then at Chen Yan on the stage, and his expression changed.

"This...this doesn't prove you didn't abuse the actors! You're twisting the facts!"

Jean-Pierre still wanted to struggle.

"No."

Chen Yan stood up, placed his hands on the table, leaned forward, and an invisible pressure enveloped the entire front row.

"Mr. Lu Haiming has prepared champagne for everyone on the yacht, but I haven't. In the Debussy Hall, I've only prepared this film. If you want to discuss ethics, come find me at 3 PM this afternoon after watching the film."

After saying that, he led his men away, leaving behind a scene of chaos.

……

At 2:30 p.m., a long queue formed at the entrance of De Biao West Hall.

A media storm has turned this previously unknown Chinese short film into the hottest topic today.

Chen Yan stood at the side door, watching the film critics and buyers who had come after hearing the news file in one after another.

Lu Haiming also arrived, still with the air of a successful man, but when he passed by Chen Yan, the fake smile on his face finally broke down.

"Chen Yan, do you think you can turn the tables with some junk from over a decade ago?"

Lu Haiming stopped on the steps, looking down at him. "This is Cannes. Nobody cares about the lives of Chinese workers here. With just one word from me, your film will never win an award."

Chen Yan didn't reply, but simply reached out and opened the heavy velvet door of the theater for him.

"Mr. Lu, please. Don't miss the opening. After all, this might be the most decent movie you've ever seen in your life."

The lights in the theater went out.

The projector started spinning.

The first shot on the screen is an unfathomable darkness.

Immediately afterwards, a dull, metallic clang as it struck the rails slammed into everyone's hearts.

Su Wan's broken yet stubborn face filled the entire screen, her pupils reflecting the cold light of the rainy night.

Even with the highest image quality, every trembling hair on her face is clearly visible.

In the third row, the Himalayan judge suddenly leaned forward and subconsciously took off his glasses.

This audiovisual language is sophisticated, precise, and ruthless, like a scalpel that has been honed in the dark for half its life, slowly dissecting human nature.

Ninety minutes later.

The lights came on.

The Debussy Hall was deathly quiet.

No one spoke, no one clapped, and you couldn't even hear someone breathing.

This silence was more unsettling than thunderous applause.

The end credits have finished rolling.

Lu Haiming remained frozen in his seat, while Wang, the comprador next to him, frantically wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

"Slap, slap, slap..."

In the front row, the Greek judge stood up and began to applaud.

The applause was slow, but very loud.

Then came the second, and the third.

Applause spread like wildfire.

Chen Yan led the film crew onto the stage.

Lin Qingqiu walked at the back. The excruciating pain in her back caused a few drops of sweat to seep through the back of her cheongsam, but she walked very steadily, each step as if she were stepping on a pivotal point in her destiny.

Just as Chen Yan picked up the microphone, the auditorium doors were suddenly pushed open from the outside.

Several officials from the Palais des Festivals strode in, the leader rushing directly to the jury and whispering a few words in the Greek director's ear.

The Greek director's expression changed.

He picked up the microphone, looked at Chen Yan on the stage, and said in a solemn voice, "Director Chen, I regret to inform you. The organizing committee has just received an urgent letter sent through official channels. The letter states that your film master tapes involve the leakage of state secrets and demands that we immediately suspend all activities and seal all copies."

The whole place erupted in chaos.

Su Wan's mind went blank with a "buzz".

Lu Haiming, sitting in the audience, finally revealed a sinister smile.

That's his trump card.

He has no say in Cannes, but back home, he has plenty of ways to use a fabricated charge to undermine his cause through official channels.

A film being shelved is tantamount to death.

Lu Haiming looked at Chen Yan on the stage and silently mouthed two words: You lost.

Chen Yan stood on the stage, looking at the chaos below, his calmness was terrifying.

He didn't even look at Lu Haiming.

He simply turned around and made a gesture towards the projection room.

Then, he picked up the microphone again.

"Sealing the film is your procedure."

His voice, transmitted clearly through the speakers, echoed throughout the entire hall, "But what I just played wasn't the master tape."

He slowly pulled the rusty film tube from the inside pocket of his suit.

"This is the master tape."

The audience was silent.

"Furthermore, a notary from the French notary office came twenty minutes ago. I have already donated it."

Lu Haiming's smile froze on his face.

"The overseas screening rights, for one franc, were transferred to the Cannes Film Festival Arts Foundation."

Chen Yan looked at the officials below the stage and spoke slowly and deliberately.

"According to French law and the Cannes charter, from this moment on, the ownership of this film does not belong to me, nor to China. It is a shared cultural heritage of humanity."

"Any interference that is not a matter of national sovereignty is invalid."

Lu Haiming's face completely collapsed, like a deflated balloon.

He had calculated everything, but he hadn't anticipated that Chen Yan was a madman, a madman who would dare to throw his painstakingly crafted work as a bomb.

"Madman..." he squeezed out the word through gritted teeth.

"No."

Chen Yan looked at him. "I'm just keeping watch over my night."

In the backstage corridor, Chen Yan leaned against the cold wall and picked up the empty film reel.

It's very light.

He ran his fingers along the inner metal wall, his fingertips touching the tiny crease at the bottom.

Hidden beneath the crease was a piece of paper smaller than a fingernail.

There is a name on it.