Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 51 The film processing plant is closed

The cigarette butt flew horizontally through the air, its ash landing on Chen Yan's shoes, leaving a dirty white stain.

The bronze bell inside the cold storage still lies tilted in the mud pit, its mouth pointing southeast, and the cracks on its outer wall resembling several ferocious centipedes.

Zhang Yuan emerged from the pile of wood shards carrying two metal boxes. His cotton-padded coat was battered by splinters, revealing the quilted fabric underneath. A piece of broken electrical tape hung from his shoulder.

He walked very slowly, each step firm and deliberate, as if he were holding a fragile piece of porcelain.

"Brother Yan, the entire roll of film A was saved, film B only has half a roll left, and film C got muddy."

Chen Yan reached out to take it.

Zhang Yuan pulled the object closer to his chest, but didn't give it to him.

He wiped the mud off his face, his voice a little hoarse: "I'll hold onto it. I'll trade my life for anyone who touches this thing."

Wu Gang stood by the iron gate, the anchor crowbar, more than a meter long, slung diagonally over his shoulder, its metal tip leaving a shallow mark on the ground.

"There are two groups of people outside, who say they are factory security guards and want to come in to check the fire safety."

Wu Gang tilted his head to the side, "Unfamiliar face, doesn't seem to be from this area."

Did you check my ID?

Chen Yan brushed the cigarette ash off his shoes.

"They couldn't produce it; I pushed them away."

"Old Liang, take four men to the back door."

Chen Yan looked at Liang Qinian, who was collecting mud samples, and said, "If anyone peeks in, hold their hand down first, then ask their name."

Liang Qinian stood up, carrying an old canvas bag filled with clay samples and broken bricks.

He nodded, said little, and led the group crouching into the shadows behind the clock tower ruins.

Su Wan walked over with the account book, the pen tip mechanically spinning between her fingers, a hardened speck of mud stuck to her fingernail.

"The inventory is complete. The clock tower is completely destroyed, and six sets of light fixtures are scrapped. As for the equipment in Hong Kong, the deposit is definitely not going to be returned, and the final payment is still 470,000."

She looked at Chen Yan, her tone flat, "This collision has wiped out half the budget for the entire production."

Chen Yan stared at the two film boxes: "The negatives must be sent first."

"I'll think of the money."

Su Wan closed the ledger. "Sister Lin still has a few short-term settlements, which I can negotiate."

"Don't look for it at your home."

"I'm not stupid."

Su Wan turned around and dialed a number with her back to everyone.

Chen Yan couldn't hear what she was saying, but he saw her fingers, which were blue from the cold, digging into the edge of the account book, leaving a white crease.

At this moment, the stretcher was brought closer.

Lin Qingqiu lay there, her dark gray coarse cloth dress soaked in mud and water, turning a deep, inky color, clinging to her legs like iron.

The oxygen mask swayed beside the stretcher. She reached out and pushed it aside, looking at Chen Yan.

Chen Yan squatted down without saying a word.

"Will that one... work?"

Lin Qingqiu's lips trembled, and tears washed away the ash on her face, leaving two deep lines.

Zhang Yuan, who was listening nearby, felt a lump in his throat and muttered a curse under his breath.

Chen Yan placed the cool metal film box next to the stretcher so that she could feel the presence of the film.

"It could go down in film history."

Chen Yan said.

Lin Qingqiu tapped the box lid weakly twice with her fingers, as if she had completed some kind of ritual.

She closed her eyes and let the medical staff lift her onto the bread cart.

"Who in Beijing dares to develop this roll of film now?"

Zhang Yuan looked at Chen Yan with a hint of fear in his eyes, "The First Factory rejected it, but the other factories have probably already received the news."

"Go to the second photo printing plant."

Chen Yan got up and opened the car door.

When the bread truck started, a thick plume of smoke billowed from its exhaust pipe and quickly disappeared into the wasteland.

Yanjing No. 2 Photo Printing Plant.

The main door was half open, and four large characters were pasted on the glass of the duty room: Equipment Maintenance.

The factory area was unusually quiet. The usual roar of the water pumps had stopped, and only a few sparrows were hopping around in the empty playground.

Zhang Yuan jumped out of the car with the film box in his arms and rushed straight to the gate.

The security guard was drinking water from an enamel mug, not even lifting his eyelids.

"Nortel experimental project, sending sample films for processing."

Chen Yan handed the document signed by Yan Huaizhong through the window.

The security guard put down his cup and pointed to the white paper on the glass: "Under maintenance, no work being done."

"The medicine truck is still parked here, what line are they checking?"

Su Wan stepped forward and pointed to the large truck with a tarpaulin hanging on it at the entrance of the office building.

"I'm just a doorman, don't ask me anything."

The security guard closed the window halfway.

Zhang Yuan reached out and pressed down on the window frame, his knuckles slipping with the force: "Get Li Kaiping out here! I just saw him smoking on the second floor!"

Chen Yan placed a hand on Zhang Yuan's shoulder and said calmly, "Step back and keep an eye on the film box."

Zhang Yuan, panting heavily, backed away, clutching the film box tightly to his chest.

A woman in a gray suit, about thirty years old, walked out of the office building, her high heels clicking on the concrete floor.

She stopped three meters away and handed over a file bag without a tabletop.

"Director Chen, Factory Director Li is not feeling well and will not see any guests."

Secretary Ma placed the file folder on the windowsill. "He asked me to pass on a message that the factory is also facing difficulties."

Su Wan opened the bag; inside was only a blank receipt with a line of handwriting in the middle:

Whoever washes "Thunder" must stop the medicine.

The handwriting was messy, as if it had been written in a hurry.

"Who stopped your medicine?"

Chen Yan looked at Secretary Ma.

"I'm not at liberty to say."

Secretary Ma lowered his head to avoid eye contact. "Director Chen, you shouldn't audition in Yanjing anymore. Shanghai has submitted a list, and whoever takes your film will be removed from next year's film equipment procurement list. There are over eighty people in this studio who need to eat. Without chemicals, the equipment is just a pile of scrap metal."

Chen Yan looked up at the second floor.

The curtains were half-closed, revealing a blurry figure behind them. Smoke seeped out from the gaps and was quickly dispersed by the wind.

"Director Li, is this your attitude?"

Chen Yan called out.

A crack opened in the second-floor window, and Li Kaiping's voice, hoarse as if from a severe cold, said, "Chen Yan, let's go. I've processed unlicensed films and banned films before. Back then, at worst, I'd just get punished one by one. But not anymore. They've got my hands on me. I can't gamble with the entire factory's wages for you."

As he finished speaking, a piece of cigarette ash fell from the windowsill and shattered into powder on the ground.

Outside the gate, two black Audis with Shanghai license plates were still running.

The rear windows are covered with bulletproof film, appearing dark and gloomy, like two pairs of eyes staring at their prey.

Zhang Yuan stared at the license plate, gritting his teeth: "沪A 73K21... Brother Yan, I'm going to take their tires off."

"Get in the car."

Chen Yan turned around without glancing at the two Audis.

"Just like that, you left?"

"The sample films can't be left out in the sun. What they want is for you to bang on the door and then confiscate the films under the pretext of maintaining order."

The bread cart slowly reversed.

Chen Yan sat in the driver's seat, his hands on the steering wheel, his phone vibrating violently in his pocket.

Upon opening it, a line of text appeared on the screen.

Want to have your DVDs developed? Come to Shanghai. Come on your knees.

Su Wan saw the text message clearly and her face instantly darkened. Her fingers unconsciously tightened around the account book.

Zhang Yuan leaned out from the back seat, breathing heavily: "Who sent this?"

Chen Yan didn't answer, but pressed the call-back button.

The call connected, but no one spoke on the other end; there was only a kind of electronic noise, like the tide.

Chen Yan rolled down all the car windows, and a cold draft rushed into the car, messing up his hair.

He glanced at the two black Audis that had been following him in the rearview mirror and spoke calmly into the microphone.

"Tell Shen Congzhou."

The bread truck rolled over the speed bump at the factory gate with a muffled thud.

"I'm coming to Shanghai."

The call ended, Chen Yan tossed his phone into the center console, shifted gears, and accelerated.

Behind, two Audis also turned around, like two sticky shadows, clinging tightly to the back of the van.