sovbooks Chapter 4 Tianya Account Creation and the Cafeteria Card Swiping Crisis
Chapter 4 Tianya Account Creation and the Cafeteria Card Swiping Crisis
Lu Chen lived a very regular life for the next few days, getting up at seven in the morning and running a few laps around the track.
After my run, I went back to my dorm, washed my face, and then went to the cafeteria for breakfast: a bowl of plain porridge and a steamed bun, which cost one yuan.
I attend classes in the morning, spend the afternoon either reading in my dorm or browsing magazines in the library, and write posts on Tianya in the evening.
His first post was published on the Tianya Film and Television forum, titled "The Neglected Corner: Ten Underrated Chinese Films from 1990 to 2000".
This post mainly analyzes the strengths and weaknesses of cinematic language and narrative structure, mentioning several films that received almost no attention in 2002, but were later re-evaluated in his previous life.
In his post, Lu Chen focused on analyzing the "multi-narrative separation technique".
In his post, he offered a reverse analysis: this slight shaking is not a technical defect, but rather a feature of breath-like photography.
They also mentioned Jia Zhangke's "Xiao Wu," which academics felt didn't even qualify as a film.
Lu Chen wrote: Section Chief Jia used a lot of 35mm fixed long lenses, and a single lens would remain still for one or two minutes.
This extremely detached sense of indifference perfectly echoes the passivity of the film's protagonist, Xiao Wu.
In this film, long takes are not a tool for showing off, but rather a specimen of the times.
Xiao Wu walks down the dusty streets of the county town with his hands tucked into his sleeves, and the camera follows him. This boredom is the most accurate metaphor for the collapse of interpersonal networks in county towns in the late 90s.
This is a textbook example of how cinematic language strictly serves the narrative structure, but unfortunately, no one understood it in 1998.
After the post was published, the comment section exploded.
Some said he was being deliberately mysterious, and others debated with him at length, but Lu Chen had achieved the effect he wanted.
In 2002, very few people could dissect cinematic language in this way, and he had successfully established a persona on the Tianya Film and Television forum.
Through this post, Lu Chen received commissions from three film and television magazines, with each article costing between three and five hundred yuan and a deadline of one to two weeks.
The money wasn't a lot, but it was enough to solve his most basic survival problems. The money issue was temporarily resolved, but another problem struck him on Monday, right on time.
The directing department announced the short film assignment topics in the rehearsal room of the acting and directing building.
The class of 13 students was spread out in a rehearsal room of less than 40 square meters, which was not crowded at all.
The title consists of four characters: Between Light and Shadow.
No restrictions on subject matter or genre, and a duration of five to eight minutes.
Sun Hao gathered with a few people and said that he was preparing to shoot a short film on the theme of martial arts and had already spent a thousand yuan to hire a martial arts instructor.
When Lu Chen heard "one thousand yuan", he smiled bitterly to himself. He couldn't even come up with one hundred yuan right now.
After the questions were announced, it was time for free group formation, and most people quickly found partners.
Lu Chen didn't actively seek out anyone, and no one came to him. His social standing in the department was practically zero. People he had offended before wouldn't team up with him, and people he hadn't offended didn't want to get involved with someone like him and cause trouble.
Lu Chen leaned against the mirrored wall in the rehearsal room, his hands in his pockets, watching the dozen or so future directors tug at each other.
He had seen this scene far too many times in his past life. It was always the same before the casting process for a film crew: popular actors were in high demand, while those who were unwanted were left to huddle in the corner.
He sighed inwardly. A max-level character returning to the starting village couldn't even find a party. He was utterly exasperated.
This was the first time since his rebirth that he felt the term "max-level main account" was inaccurate. He felt more like his max-level main account had been stolen, all his equipment was gone, his skills were locked, and he couldn't even beat a wild boar in the newbie village.
At this moment, Zhao Bo squeezed out from the crowd.
Zhao Bo is tall and thin, wears black-rimmed glasses, and has long hair that covers half of one eye.
He wore a faded dark green work jacket with frayed cuffs, but the collar stood up neatly.
The way he stood there exuded a kind of decadent, artistic vibe that said, "I'm not one of you guys."
He was one of the people the original owner scolded the most in class because Zhao Bo never considered the audience when filming his homework and liked to create some nonsensical stream-of-consciousness content.
Last semester, I submitted a 15-minute short film with no dialogue. It was just a man walking around the room, opening and closing drawers, and finally lying on the bed staring at the ceiling for three minutes.
After reading it, the department teacher remained silent for a long time before asking, "What are you trying to express?" Zhao Bo replied, "Expression itself is expression."
The original owner scolded him on the spot for being pretentious, but Zhao Bo didn't talk back. However, he sat on the dormitory balcony all night after returning home.
But Lu Chen knew that this kind of person had an intuition for the camera, but lacked someone who could translate his intuition into a language that the audience could understand.
Zhao Bo walked up to Lu Chen and stopped without saying a word. He took out a two-yuan pack of Hongsheng cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out, and handed it to Lu Chen.
Lu Chen glanced at it but didn't take it.
Zhao Bo wasn't embarrassed. He lit one himself, took a drag, and the smoke made him squint. "I'll team up with you."
Why?
Zhao Bo exhaled a smoke ring and glanced at the students still discussing in the distance.
"Those guys only care about how to make a good-looking film; nobody thinks about how to finish it. You may be a jerk, but the storyboard you drew in class last time had the right camera angles. You understand the technology, and you also know how to put your ideas into practice."
Lu Chen looked at him. Zhao Bo didn't look at him when he said these words; his tone was as flat as if he were reading a textbook.
But when he said "You're an asshole," the corner of his mouth unconsciously turned down, like a resentful acceptance.
"Okay, then I'll take that as a compliment," Lu Chen said.
Zhao Bo glanced at him sideways: "Do whatever you want."
"There's one more." Zhao Bo gestured towards the door.
Wang Yan was leaning against the door frame of the rehearsal room, tossing a bunch of keys in his hand.
He had a buzz cut and wore a fake Puma tracksuit bought from a street vendor; the zipper at the collar was broken and held together with a paperclip.
He was wearing a pair of yellowed white sneakers, with a black lace on the left shoe and a white lace on the right.
He came from the poorest family in the class, and everyone in the class knew that, but no one would say it to his face, and Wang Yan himself didn't mention it either.
"I'm calling you, come here and talk to me," Zhao Bo called out to him.
Wang Yan stuffed the keys in his pocket and sauntered over. "What's up? Nobody wants me anyway, so I'll just hang out with you guys. But let's get this straight, I don't know anything. I'm good at odd jobs, don't bother me with any technical work."
Lu Chen looked at him. When Wang Yan said "I can't do anything," his tone was too relaxed, so relaxed that it didn't seem real.
Saying you can't do anything is because you don't want to take the blame, don't want to be expected of anything, and don't want anyone to make demands of you.
"Okay." Lu Chen took the Hongsheng cigarette from Zhao Bo's hand and put it in his mouth without lighting it.
"I'll borrow the equipment from the department, and I'll figure out how to pay for the tapes and batteries. But let me make this clear upfront: once we're on set, I'm in charge."
Zhao Bo pushed up his glasses: "As long as it produces something, I'll even play a tree."
"Play a tree?" Wang Yan asked with a look of disdain. "With your build, you'd break in the wind. You'd be better suited to playing a telephone pole."
Zhao Bo ignored him.
Wang Yan turned to Lu Chen and patted his chest: "Brother Lu, don't worry. I can't promise anything else, but I'll take care of everything: running errands, carrying equipment, buying lunch boxes. If you're willing, I can even manage your accounts and make sure every penny is spent wisely."
"You can manage accounts?" Zhao Bo finally spoke, his tone clearly skeptical.
"No," Wang Yan said matter-of-factly, "but I spend less. Isn't the core of accounting about spending less money?"
Lu Chen watched the two bickering, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
One has nothing but art in his mind, the other is full of witty remarks. One is so reserved that he has to beat around the bush when expressing his needs, the other is so outspoken that he says "I'm awesome" instead of "I can't".
"Meet at the entrance of the Faculty Building at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Bring your brains." Lu Chen took the cigarette out of his mouth and held it between his fingers.
Zhao Bo nodded and turned to go to the restroom. Wang Yan stood there, looked at Lu Chen, then at Zhao Bo's departing figure, and suddenly leaned over and whispered, "Brother Lu, is there something wrong with Zhao Bo? Last semester when we were filming that short film, he walked around in the room for fifteen minutes by himself, and it almost made me fall asleep."
"That's because you don't understand."
"I don't understand," Wang Yan shrugged. "But I do understand one thing: he wants to learn from you, while I want to make a living. If you tell me to go east, I'll never go west."
Lu Chen glanced at him. Wang Yan's words were brilliant; his mind worked faster than anyone else's, and his perception was excellent.
"Let's go to the cafeteria," Lu Chen said.
The three of them walked towards the cafeteria together.
Zhao Bo walked in front, his right hand in the pocket of his work jacket. Wang Yan walked beside Lu Chen, chewing a piece of gum.
"Do you think Sun Hao is out of his mind? He spent a thousand yuan to hire a martial arts instructor, what good would the result be?" Wang Yan said.
"You'll pass," Zhao Bo said without turning his head.
"Pass? A thousand dollars for a passing grade?" Wang Yan said, then suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
Lu Chen knew the half-finished sentence he hadn't said. How could the worldviews of the rich and the poor be the same?
When Lu Chen reached the entrance of the cafeteria, he saw Liu Yifei.
She was wearing a light blue sweatshirt, her hair was tied in a ponytail, and she wasn't wearing a hat, so her whole face was exposed.
Fifteen-year-old Liu Yifei is quite different from anyone else at fifteen.
Her facial features haven't fully developed yet, but her bone structure has already determined what she will look like in the future.
The kind of beauty isn't stunning; it's a kind of confirmation that people with such perfect looks truly exist in this world.
She picked up her tray, found an empty seat, and sat down, eating quietly with her head down, as if trying to minimize her presence.
But in a place like the Beijing Film Academy cafeteria, it's impossible for a girl who looks like her to minimize her presence.
Lu Chen noticed that two boys diagonally opposite Liu Yifei were staring at her.
After whispering among themselves for a while, one of them stood up, took his tray, and sat down in the empty seat opposite Liu Yifei. The other followed suit.
The two began to sing in unison. Liu Yifei still didn't look up, but her hand holding the chopsticks tightened slightly.
Zhao Bo followed Lu Chen's gaze and frowned. He didn't speak, but his face clearly showed his boredom.
Wang Yan spat out, "Who doesn't want to become famous after coming to the Beijing Film Academy?"
Lu Chen didn't speak; he knew he shouldn't meddle. Given his current situation, meddling would only cause him trouble, but he still took the plunge.
While he was observing the two boys, a question involuntarily came to mind: if this were a scene from a movie he was producing, how would he handle it?
The answer is that these kinds of minor roles don't even last three lines in the script, so there's no need to change them. But the die is cast.
When he walked to Liu Yifei's table, he pulled his right hand out of his pocket, holding a card between his fingers.
The card was a VIP card for a bathhouse in his wallet. It had long expired, but it had large gold lettering on it, and it looked quite impressive under the cafeteria lights.
He slammed the card on the table; the sound wasn't loud, but it was clearly audible around the table.
"Get out, I've booked this table."
The two boys looked up at the same time. One of them recognized him, and his expression changed in a fascinating way, first surprise, then amusement, probably thinking that a bankrupt rich kid was trying to act like a big shot.
Lu Chen didn't give them time to react. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to Liu Yifei, then turned to look at the two boys and smiled at them.
"What, aren't you leaving? Want me to sign some autographs for you?"
The two boys exchanged a glance, picked up their trays, and left. Students in this era are still mostly innocent.
At this moment, Liu Yifei was looking at him with a very complicated expression.
"Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome." Lu Chen leaned back. "Order whatever you want. It's my treat today, and I have six figures in my account."
"Then I'll have a serving of braised pork ribs."
"OK."
The two carried their trays to swipe their cards (they were probably IC cards introduced around 1995), with Liu Yifei walking in front and Lu Chen walking behind.
He handed over the expired bathhouse card, and the cashier auntie picked it up and scanned it on the card reader.
drop.
The machine wasn't responding. The auntie scanned it again.
drop.
"Young man, what kind of card do you have? Is the balance so low you can't even afford a bowl of pork rib soup?"
The volume of that sentence could probably cover half of the cafeteria.
Lu Chen felt the surroundings suddenly quiet down, followed by a buzzing of discussion.
He mentally gave the card reader a thumbs up. Normally, it would take forever to scan even a single yuan, but today it was surprisingly loud; this machine must be sentient.
Lu Chen's expression remained unchanged, and he even smiled at the aunt.
"Auntie, is your machine broken? This is an ICBC black gold card."
"Black Gold Card?" The aunt glared at him.
"I don't know about black and platinum cards, but your card won't do."
"Stop pretending, I know what a black gold card looks like."
A voice came from behind him, not loud, but he could hear it clearly.
Lu Chen turned his head and saw Liu Yifei holding the braised pork ribs, looking at him with a slight smile, as if she had confirmed some kind of expectation.
Lu Chen put the card back, took out six coins from his pocket, and lined them up on the table one by one.
"The ribs are on me, but you pay for the bowl of noodles you ordered later. Humph, I said I'd treat you to ribs, and I definitely won't treat you to noodles."
Liu Yifei didn't say anything, but took out her meal card from her pocket and swiped it to pay for her noodles. The two of them carried their trays and found a corner seat to sit down.
Wang Yan, standing some distance away, nudged Zhao Bo with his elbow: "Is this guy out of his mind? He's so poor, yet he's still pretending to be a rich kid?"
"He's not just a simple scoundrel, nor is he a rich kid whose family went bankrupt," Zhao Bo said, turning to get his food.
Wang Yan scratched his head: "What's wrong with them? They all look decent-looking, but they don't even speak like human beings."
Lu Chen ate his now-cold clear soup noodles, while Liu Yifei ate braised pork ribs; neither of them spoke.
Two minutes later, Liu Yifei spoke.
Do you do this every day?
"What?"
"Eat the cheapest noodles, sit in the most conspicuous spot, and then be laughed at by everyone."
The noodles had clumped together. Lu Chen slurped up a mouthful of noodles, chewed them twice, and swallowed.
"It's not about being laughed at, it's about getting them used to it."
"What are you used to?"
Of course, I'm used to you still being here, but Lu Chen didn't answer that question. Instead, he gave a somewhat irrelevant answer: "The wind is picking up. The weather in City A, no, in the capital, is about to change."
Liu Yifei rolled her eyes, saying, "You're crazy."
"What do you know, you little brat? Eating ribs won't shut you up, will it?"
Liu Yifei certainly wouldn't understand; he's never used Douyin or watched short dramas.
This time, however, she didn't say "Stop pretending," but instead lowered her head and continued eating the ribs, though she chewed them a little slower.
As Lu Chen watched her eat the ribs with her head down, he suddenly felt the acid in his stomach lessen.
In this school where everyone treats him like a joke, there is actually someone willing to sit at the same table with him for a meal, even though this person has just witnessed him make a fool of himself in front of the whole school again (excluding the two roommates).
It's a strange feeling, like someone suddenly throws a hot water bottle into ice water after you've been soaking in it for a long time. It doesn't really help, but it warms your heart.