weddingnovel Chapter 141
Chapter 141
Chapter 141
The third point is Yuan Tao's concern: "Li Jun, their marketing is very aggressive, and their positioning is very precise, focusing on business, sex appeal, and controversy."
Our film, "Dreams of Mountains and Rivers," is too quiet; I'm afraid it will be drowned out when it's released.
Li Jun looked at his phone screen, remained silent for a moment, and replied: "Let them stir-fry it."
We'll focus on making our film.
That being said, the pressure is very real.
He turned off his phone and went into the yard.
Aunt Gui was airing out the bedding when she saw him and greeted him, "Director Li, what would you like for lunch? I'll make something special for you."
"No need to go to trouble, just eat with everyone."
"That won't do. You're the commander, you need to eat well."
Aunt Gui persisted.
"I'll steam some egg custard for you, it'll be soft and tender, with some dried shrimp."
Li Jun smiled and didn't refuse again.
He walked to the stone bridge at the entrance of the village and looked at the flowing water below.
The water was very clear, and you could see the pebbles and small fish on the bottom.
The sunlight shone on the water, making it sparkle.
He recalled the days before the release of "Bodyguards and Assassins".
There were doubts and competition back then, but he wasn't as anxious as he is now.
Why? Perhaps it was because he had nothing then, and therefore had nothing to fear.
Now that they have fame and expectations, they are afraid of losing it.
My phone vibrated again; this time it was Zhang Liangying.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I was spacing out," Li Jun said honestly.
"Rare indeed. Even Director Li can space out."
"Director Li is human too," Li Jun laughed. "What about you?"
"I'm trying on my costume. The last show of the tour is in Chengdu, and the designer made several designs for me to choose from."
Zhang Liangying sent me a photo of herself standing in front of a mirror, wearing a moon-white long dress with light ink-colored bamboo leaves embroidered on the hem.
"This one looks good."
Li Jun said.
"I like this one too, it's simple and clean."
Zhang Liangying replied.
"But the company said it was too plain, not fried enough."
They wanted me to wear red, sequined stuff.
"Listen to yourself."
"Yes. I'll listen to myself."
The simple conversation calmed Li Jun down.
He put away his phone and looked at the mountains in the distance.
The mountains are still the same mountains, and the waters are still the same waters. No matter how much strife there is in the world, the mountains and rivers remain unchanged.
He suddenly understood why Lin Shen chose to stay.
Filming began at 2 PM, when the sun was at its strongest.
The main event today is the villagers' escape.
This play involved hundreds of people from the entire village. The village secretary mobilized the villagers to act as extras, paying them according to their number of people. Everyone was very enthusiastic.
The scene was set on the road from the village entrance to the stone bridge. The art team created a chaotic mess along the road:
Scattered bundles, overturned baskets, discarded old furniture, and even a prop pig.
The smoke team released smoke bombs in the distance to simulate the smoke of battle.
The extras changed into tattered clothes and smeared dirt on their faces.
Assistant director Xiao Chen was instructing them on the scene: "When I give the order, everyone run towards the bridge."
Don't be neat, be chaotic!
They can cry out, they can fall down, they can help each other up, and they can also push each other!
Remember, you're fleeing for your lives, not going to a market!
The villagers listened with a mixture of tension and excitement. Several children were eager to try, but were held back by the adults.
Xie Tingfeng and Qin Hailu were already in place. They were standing at their own front door, which was actually Aunt Gui's front door, but had been temporarily set up to resemble Lin Shen's house.
A faded Spring Festival couplet was pasted on the lintel, and two broken earthenware pots with wilted chrysanthemums were placed by the door.
Both of them had very meticulous makeup and hair.
Nicholas Tse had deliberately dyed a few strands of his sideburns white, painted fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and patched the elbows of his long robe.
Qin Hailu's hair was neatly combed, but a few strands were loose at her temples. Her face was covered with light yellow powder, making her look haggard.
She still had bandages wrapped around her hands, a continuation of yesterday's bamboo forest opera.
Li Jun's final explanation of the scene: "The core of this scene is contrast. The background is chaotic, panicked, and desperate."
This isn't numbness; it's accepting the worst-case scenario and becoming fearless in the process.
He looked at Xie Tingfeng: "When Lin Shen looked at the fleeing crowd, there should have been compassion in his eyes, but not compassion for others, but compassion for everyone, including himself."
He knew that staying might mean death, but he chose to stay.
Then she looked at Qin Hailu: "Wanrong is holding her husband's arm, not out of dependence, but out of support."
She was the one who made this decision with him.
Beneath her calm lay a maternal resilience, like a mother animal protecting her cubs, remaining steadfast in the most dangerous situations.
The two nodded, indicating that they understood.
"All hands on deck!"
"The script supervisor shouted."
Four cameras are in place:
One camera followed the crowd in the middle of the road, another shot from the rooftop, another captured close-ups at the bridgehead, and yet another was positioned at the door of Lin Shen's house.
Smoke rose, and a simulated explosion could be heard in the distance.
"Scene 68, Shot 1 of 'Dreams of Mountains and Rivers,' begin!"
Xiao Chen waved his arms: "Run!"
The crowd surged toward the stone bridge like a flood bursting its banks.
The sounds of crying, screaming, children's wailing, and things breaking were all mixed together.
Some people ran with their bundles, but the bundles broke apart, and the contents were scattered all over the ground, but they didn't bother to pick them up.
Someone was helping the elderly person, who had difficulty walking and was almost being dragged along.
A child, separated from their mother, stood in the middle of the road crying, swept along by the crowd.
The camera moves through the crowd, capturing real faces—those of fear, despair, and numbness.
This wasn't a performance; many villagers genuinely felt the emotions of fleeing from disaster, and several elderly people even had tears in their eyes as they recalled their early experiences.
The camera slowly pans across the chaotic crowd, finally stopping in front of that quiet door.
Nicholas Tse and Qin Hailu stood there, arm in arm, quietly watching everything before them.
The sunlight shone from the side, outlining their clear silhouettes.
The doorway behind them was dark, and they stood at the boundary between light and shadow, like two figures about to be swallowed by darkness, yet still standing tall.
Nicholas Tse's eyes were very complicated.
He watched a mother run past carrying a baby. The baby's swaddling clothes were loose and the baby almost fell out. He instinctively reached out, but only raised his hand halfway before putting it down again.
A deep sense of powerlessness washed over him. He knew he couldn't save everyone; he could only protect the small piece of land he had chosen.
Qin Hailu held his hand tightly.
Her gaze followed the crowd, but there was no fear, only a calm that bordered on compassion.
She saw a girl fall down, scrape her knee, and bleed.
The girl's mother pulled her up and they kept running.
Qin Hailu's lips moved slightly, as if silently saying: Be careful.
The crowd gradually thinned out.
The last few villagers ran past, one of them glancing back at them with a look of confusion mixed with a certain respect. Then he too ran off.
All that remained on the road were scattered luggage, overturned baskets, and swirling dust.
A dead silence.
There was only the sound of the wind and the faint sound of an "explosion" in the distance.
Nicholas Tse and Qin Hailu still stood there, like two sculptures.
After a long while, Nicholas Tse gently patted Qin Hailu's hand and said in a low voice, "Let's go in."
Qin Hailu nodded, and the two turned around and slowly walked back inside.
The door closed slowly.
"Cut!"
Li Jun called a halt.
The scene was completely silent. The stark contrast between the previous chaos and the current stillness left everyone somewhat dazed.
A few seconds later, applause broke out. It wasn't enthusiastic applause, but soft, restrained applause, as if afraid of disturbing something.
During the playback, Li Jun paid special attention to that long shot. From the chaotic crowd to the quiet doorway, and then to the two turning around, going inside, and closing the door.
It was written in one go, full of emotion yet restrained.
"This scene doesn't need to be cut; it can be done in one take."
Zhao Xiaodong said, "The tension is enough."
Li Jun nodded.
He looked at Xie Tingfeng and Qin Hailu, both of whom were still immersed in their emotions, their eyes were a little red.
"Thanks."
He said.
"You acted very well."
Qin Hailu shook his head, said nothing, and simply wiped the corner of his eye.
Nicholas Tse took a deep breath: "This scene was very demanding. I actually felt relieved after filming it."
The extras began tidying up the set, and the children, now lively again, chased and played among the scattered props.
The heavy atmosphere from before was quickly dispelled.
But Li Jun knew that some things had remained.
On the film, and in everyone's heart.
As we finished work, the sun was setting perfectly.
Golden sunlight streamed into the village, casting a warm glow on the white walls and black tiles.
Smoke rose again from the chimneys, and the aroma of dinner filled the air.
Aunt Gui had indeed stewed pork rib and lotus root soup, which she placed in a large pot on the stone table in the courtyard. There were also several other farm-style dishes:
Stir-fried wild vegetables, braised pork with dried bamboo shoots, steamed cured fish, and unlimited rice.
The crew of dozens sat together, enjoying a lively meal.
The day's fatigue dissipates amidst delicious food and laughter.
Li Jun sat in the main seat, and Aunt Gui specially served him a large bowl of soup: "Director Li, drink more, it'll help you recover."
"Thank you, Aunt Gui."
The soup was indeed delicious. The pork ribs were stewed until tender, the lotus root was soft and powdery, and the soup was clear and bright. Drinking it warmed me from my stomach to my heart.
While we were eating, the Party Secretary's grandson ran over with a notebook in his hand: "Uncle Li, our teacher asked us to write an essay titled 'Filmmakers in My Eyes'."
May I interview you?
Everyone laughed.
"Sure," Li Jun said, putting down his bowl. "What do you want to ask?"
The child asked earnestly, "Is making movies tough?"
"bitter."
"Then why film it at all?"
Li Jun thought for a moment and said, "Because some stories are worth telling. Some scenes are worth remembering."
The child nodded as if he understood, and wrote it down in his notebook.
Nicholas Tse interjected: "Little friend, do you know what drawing is? Painters draw on paper, and directors draw with their cameras."
It's all about making what you think in your heart visible to others.
"So what are you thinking?" the child asked again.
This question stumped even the adults.
Qin Hailu said softly, "What I'm thinking about is—how a person should live. How to live in good times, and how to live in bad times."
The child blinked and continued memorizing.
After dinner, it was completely dark.
There are no streetlights in the village, only light coming from the windows of each house.
The stars were exceptionally bright, and the Milky Way stretched across the sky.
Li Jun walked alone onto the stone bridge.
The water flowing under the bridge shimmered faintly in the night, gurgling and gurgling tirelessly.
He thought of the daytime filming, the running crowds, and that quiet door.
What is a movie? He asked himself.
He used to think that movies were about creating dreams, expressing ideas, and art.
Now he feels that movies might be simpler, a form of testimony.
Witness this era, witness these people, witness these small yet precious moments that are overlooked in the grand scheme of history.
Just as Lin Shen paints landscapes on paper, not for immortality, but to say:
There were such mountains, such waters, and such people here.
My phone vibrated; it was a call from Yuan Tao.
"Li Jun, how did the filming go today?"
"It went very smoothly. The big scene was filmed, and the results were excellent."
"That's good."
Yuan Tao paused.
"There's something else, but I'm not sure if I should tell you."
"Speak."
"Cheng Guoqiang has been hospitalized."
Li Jun was taken aback: "What's going on?"
"He suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and collapsed on the set of 'Beauty in Troubled Times'."
Yuan Tao said.
"He was rushed to the hospital and survived, but he is now paralyzed on one side and may never be able to stand up again."
Li Jun held his phone, speechless for a long time.
Cheng Guoqiang, the agile veteran action choreographer, the mentor who repeatedly taught Nicholas Tse his moves on the set of "Bodyguards and Assassins," the senior who gave everyone a hearty hug when filming wrapped—
Which hospital?
he asks.
"BJ Concord".
He was observed in the ICU for three days and has just been transferred to a regular ward.
Yuan Tao said.
"Wang Zhonglei made a token visit and left some money, but the subsequent treatment costs—"
As you know, the combat choreographer doesn't have medical insurance; he has to rely entirely on himself.
"
"I see."
Li Jun said.
"Book me a flight for tomorrow; I need to go back to Beijing."
"But we're filming here—"
"I'll be right back, it'll only take a day or two."
Li Jun said.
"Some things need to be done."
After hanging up the phone, he stood on the bridge, motionless for a long time.
A cool night breeze blew by. The distant mountains were reduced to blurry outlines in the darkness, like ink washes spreading across a landscape painting.
Life is so fragile, like rice paper, easily torn. But people still want to paint, still want to make movies, still want to leave something on this fragile paper.
He recalled how Cheng Guoqiang taught Xie Tingfeng martial arts moves, meticulously executing each step. The old man said, "Movement isn't just for show; it's an expression of the body. You have to use your body to speak the character's inner thoughts."
Now, his body can no longer speak.
But the moves he taught and the movies he made are still there.
Like Lin Shen's paintings and Wan Rong's songs, those daily lives persevered amidst war—may all be forgotten by time. But their existence holds meaning.
Li Jun took a deep breath and walked back to the village.
As I passed by Aunt Gui's house, I saw that the light was still on in the window. Aunt Gui was mending clothes under the light, stitch by stitch, with seriousness and focus.
He stood outside the window for a while, then quietly walked away.
Tonight, many people will fall asleep, and many people will wake up.
Cheng Guoqiang in the hospital, Zhang Liangying in the recording studio, Wang Zhonglei in Beijing, and this village in southern Anhui —
Everyone continues on their own path.
He, however, wanted to finish filming the movie.
The next day at noon, Li Jun returned to Beijing.
It was raining in BJ when the plane landed.
It wasn't the drizzling rain of southern Anhui, but the autumn rain of the north—cold, dense, and pattering against the porthole.
Yuan Tao was waiting for him at the exit and handed him an umbrella: "Going straight to the hospital?"
'