Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 4 The Tyrant on Set

Night Watch, Scene 1, Shot 1.

The machine was running, and aluminum alloy tracks stretched from the cashier all the way to the warehouse entrance.

"Click!"

The sound of Chen Yan shutting down the machine suppressed the tense atmosphere in the convenience store.

"Let's start over."

This is the tenth time we've tried again today.

Zhang Yuan, the photography assistant and class monitor, is usually arrogant, but now he is squatting by the tracks with his palms sweating.

He lowered his voice and said to Chen Yan, "Chen Yan, this track is too long. We're using 16mm film, and if we open the aperture wide, the depth of field will be shallow."

"If Deng Chuan deviates even slightly, the focus will be off, and the entire roll of film will be ruined!"

Film stock is limited, and every inch costs money.

Chen Yan ignored him, his gaze fixed on the flickering screen on the monitor.

"Zhang Yuan, I've got this."

Chen Yan's voice was very low, as if he were only speaking to himself, "What I want is not beauty, but to spy on."

"The camera is like a snake, slowly sliding through the gaps in the shelves to get in front of him."

"An actor's blocking is his own business. If he can't even walk in a straight line, he can tear up his diploma from the Central Academy of Drama."

These words were too harsh. Zhang Yuan's lips moved, but he didn't dare to say a word in response.

He felt that Chen Yan hadn't just changed, he'd gone mad.

"Lights! Take that orange filter off me!"

Chen Yan suddenly looked up and shouted at the lamp stand.

Liu Qiang, the lighting team leader, was sweating profusely as he adjusted the lights when he heard this, and he froze: "Take it off? Won't your face turn pale?"

"The teacher said that when shooting this kind of scene, we need to use warm colors and capture the feeling of everyday life."

"Who told you this was a heartwarming film?"

Chen Yan walked over, took matters into his own hands, ripped off the orange-red filter, and threw it into the empty box.

"Seventy percent of the light here should be cold light! The stark white light from the freezer should shine directly on Deng Chuan's face, making him look like he just crawled out of a morgue."

"Only the hot milk counter over there has a hint of warmth, but it has to be as faint as a cigarette butt that's about to go out."

His movements as he adjusted the lights were frighteningly skilled; he didn't seem like a student at all, but rather like a seasoned veteran who had been working on film sets for decades.

"Chen Yan, this composition..."

Looking at the monitor, Zhang Yuan couldn't help but speak up, "The faces are crammed into the bottom right corner, and the left side is all black. It's too crowded, making it hard to breathe."

That's right.

Chen Yan glanced back at him and said, "In this movie, the convenience store isn't a home, it's a coffin."

Zhang Yuan shrank his neck and shut up completely.

Just then, the wind chimes at the door rang, and Su Wan led two young people in.

Leading the group was Deng Chuan, a top student from the 1997 class of the Central Academy of Drama.

He was wearing a gray woolen overcoat, and his brows carried an air of academic arrogance.

If the script hadn't been so amazing, he would never have been chosen to play the lead role in a third-year student's graduation project.

"Director Chen, this is quite a large-scale operation."

As soon as Deng Chuan entered, he smelled the sour smell of oden and the smell of dust in the shop, and his brows furrowed slightly.

Chen Yan looked up from behind the monitor and pointed to the cashier: "Take off your clothes, go inside, and sit down."

There wasn't a single polite word.

Deng Chuan paused for a moment, then took off his coat, revealing the blue work clothes underneath.

He walked into the narrow checkout area, leaned back slightly, lowered his eyes, and struck a pose like a male lead in an art film that he had practiced for a long time.

"Click!"

Before he could even settle into his seat, Chen Yan called for a stop.

"What's wrong?"

Deng Chuan was a little puzzled.

"You acted so well."

Chen Yan walked to the cashier and knocked on the counter. "You're playing a melancholy person, but what I want is a dead person."

Deng Chuan's smile faltered: "Director Chen, the character has suffered trauma; he should grieve without being overly distressed..."

"wrong."

Chen Yan interrupted him, "The dead don't grieve."

"I want you to be like this barcode scanner, like this meter, numb and empty."

"No matter who comes in, even if a robber points a gun at you, your reaction will only be to mechanically raise your head."

"Do you understand?"

This completely overturns everything Deng Chuan learned in school.

He was a little indignant: "If you don't give them any emotion at all, how can the audience empathize?"

"Empathy is a matter for the camera and the story, not for you."

Chen Yan pointed to the lucky cat on the counter, "Now, don't do anything, just stare at that cat."

"We'll take another picture when you feel that the cat is your only family, or when you feel that you are just a plastic ornament."

Su Wan tugged at Chen Yan's sleeve and whispered, "He hasn't had breakfast yet."

Chen Yan glanced at her, his facial expression softening for a split second, but he still shook his head: "Su Wan, go and secure the power strip outside, so the current doesn't affect the light."

"This is my job."

Su Wan sighed and nodded.

She discovered that on set, she wasn't Chen Yan's girlfriend, but just a production assistant named Su Wan.

Three hours later, the atmosphere in the convenience store was extremely oppressive.

Deng Chuan sat behind the cashier like a wax figure, his whole body shrunken up, his eyes empty, all traces of his previous high spirits gone.

"Get ready."

Chen Yan finally sat back down behind the camera. "Record the audio, get the buzzing sound from the freezer in, amplify it, make it drown out the human voice."

"The Night Watch, Scene 1, Shot 1, Fifteenth take."

"Action!"

The camera glides along the track, close to the gaps in the shelves, inch by inch approaching the cash register.

Deng Chuan was mechanically sorting through the invoices when he suddenly stopped and his gaze fell on the lucky cat.

Become!

Chen Yan had just uttered those two words in his mind.

The clock chimes, ding-dong, welcome!

The glass door of the convenience store was pushed open forcefully, and a middle-aged man in a black down jacket walked in with two teachers, his face full of anger.

It was Qi Feng, the deputy director of the Photography Department at Beijing Film Academy.

"Chen Yan, stop for a second!"

Qi Feng's loud voice resonated with everyone.

Chen Yan didn't move, and the machine didn't stop.

"Teacher Qi, we're filming right now."

"What are you filming for!"

Qi Feng rushed to the monitor, and upon seeing the chilling image, his anger flared even more. "This is the script you changed?"

"This pretentious composition and low-grade color contrast—are you making a Hollywood B-movie?"

"You've completely disgraced the Beijing Film Academy!"

"Chen Yan, your works should be poetic and socially conscious!"

Another teacher was also heartbroken.

The entire crew lowered their heads, not daring to utter a sound.

Chen Yan finally slowly raised his head, and he even smiled.

"Teacher Qi, traditions are meant to be broken, not used to bind feet."

He stood up and looked directly at Qi Feng: "If you think a powerful composition is inferior, then perhaps our department's teaching materials need to be updated."

"As for social concern, is it not concern for someone crushed by life struggling to survive in the dead of night? Does it only count as concern if we film a few old men repairing ancient books?"

"What...what kind of attitude is this!"

Qi Feng's fingers trembled with anger. "Let me tell you, I won't let your work pass, it's the first one I'll ever approve!"

"You won't graduate!"

"Then you can give it a try."

After Chen Yan finished speaking, he turned around and faced away from the furious department head.

"What are you all staring at? Are you all just standing there waiting to get off work?"

His tone was authoritative, and everyone tensed up. "Each group, prepare to secure one!"

"Deng Chuan, don't forget that feeling you had just gotten!"

"Zhang Yuan, keep an eye on your Jiao!"

Qi Feng stood there, his face turning a deep purplish-red. He had never suffered such a humiliation in his life.

"Fine, fine! Chen Yan, you've got guts!"

"I'm waiting for you to come begging me with this pile of garbage!"

He roared and slammed the door shut as he stormed out.

The door slammed shut, and the world became quiet again.

No one in the crew made a sound. Wu Lei secretly stuck out his tongue in a corner. This guy is really brave.

Chen Yan acted as if nothing had happened and sat back down behind the monitor.

"Power on."

Just then, a bolt of lightning flashed across the window, followed by a torrent of large raindrops pelting down.

An unexpected downpour struck.

Chen Yan looked out the window; the streetlights cast an eerie yellow glow in the rain.

Suddenly, two blinding beams of light pierced through the rain and shone straight into the convenience store, turning the monitor screen a stark white.

Two black Santana 2000s silently pulled up in front of the store, blocking the way.

The car door opened, and several burly men in black leather jackets got out. The leader was carrying a steel pipe that gleamed coldly.

Shop owner Fatty Wang's legs went weak: "Little...Little Chen, this...this guy's here to cause trouble, isn't he?"

Memories of being framed by capital in his past life flooded back to Chen Yan, and the feeling of being choked sent chills down his spine.

He grabbed a heavy spare lamp stand from the side, the coolness of the metal instantly sobering him up.

In this life, no one can stand in his way anymore.

"Zhang Yuan, take a few men and guard the entrance."

Chen Yan's voice was deep and muffled by the sound of rain, "Don't let anyone smash the machine."

The old clock chimed again, ding-dong, welcome!

The sound echoed through the convenience store, particularly jarring.