Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 191 The Blade Returns to Its Sheath, A Dimensional Strike in the Audition Studio

At 11 p.m., only a few floors of the Yanying Cultural Building had safety lights still on. The wind at the end of the corridor seeped in through the cracks in the door, carrying the smell of cement and machine oil.

Inside the audition studio, two industrial searchlights were mounted beside the track, their white light illuminating the center of the space in a bluish hue.

Chen Yan sat on a low stool with a medicine box spread out in front of him.

Across from her, Lin Qingqiu stretched out both hands, her palms covered in crisscrossing wounds, the exposed flesh stained with rust, and the blood dried into a dark red crust.

The tweezers rolled around on the alcohol swab, and the metal tips became shiny with moisture.

Chen Yan gripped the iron filings embedded in the flesh, and without giving any prior warning, pulled them out with a flick of his wrist.

Lin Qingqiu's fingers twitched slightly, her breathing became a beat off, but her shoulders and back remained ramrod straight.

Iron filings fell into the stainless steel tray with a clanging sound that echoed through the empty shed.

The saline solution was immediately applied to the wound, and the pale red water flowed down her wrist bone, dripping into the plastic basin and slowly spreading on the surface.

"The core of Strasberg's training method is to help actors subconsciously establish trauma substitutions."

Chen Yan pressed the cotton swab against the edge of the wound, his movements swift and decisive, without uttering a single word of comfort.

"You stayed there for three months, how much did you eat?"

"all."

Lin Qingqiu looked down at him as he treated the gauze, her voice hoarse from the exhaustion she had just endured.

"My mentor said that I am a container without any defense mechanism; I can put any emotion into it and then seal it up."

Chen Yan didn't reply. As the iodine was applied to the crack, a slight arc appeared in the tendons of her wrist.

He wrapped the gauze around and around, tied knots, cut it, and threw the excess threads into the medical waste bag.

"Stand up."

The first-aid kit clicked shut with a soft thud.

Lin Qingqiu got up from the low stool, her knees felt heavy, and she still didn't hold onto the edge of the table next to her.

The roller shutter door at the back of the audition studio was pulled open from the outside, the metal door panel shook twice, and the night wind carrying dust rushed in.

Zhang Yuan pushed a flatbed cart into the field, the wheels making a dull thud as they rolled over the cable protection trenches on the ground.

On the cart was a set of black mechanical devices, an early test version of exoskeleton armor that Wang Yuanchao had assembled using scrap parts from the Shougang workshop according to Chen Yan's drawings.

There is no power system or any weight-saving design; all joints, load-bearing shafts, and supports are made of solid steel.

"Sixty jin (30 kg)."

Chen Yan pointed to the pile of dark, heavy components.

"Put them on."

Lin Qingqiu walked to the cart, stood still, and opened her arms.

Zhang Yuan's hand remained suspended in mid-air, hesitating to take the first back support shaft.

He knew that Lin Qingqiu had injured her lumbar spine, and once this thing was on her body, even a healthy man might not be able to endure a whole scene.

"Director Chen, this weight..."

"Help her put it on."

Chen Yan did not provide an explanation for the second sentence.

Zhang Yuan's throat moved, and he bent down to pick up the back support shaft and press it against Lin Qingqiu's back.

The moment the metal clung to her body, Lin Qingqiu sank a bit.

She bent her knees, the soles of her shoes making soft sounds on the concrete, and then slowly straightened her body.

With the alloy straps fastened on her chest, the straps digging into the fabric of her tactical vest, and the shoulder braces tightened, beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.

The leg hydraulic linkage model was then fixed in place, and the arm-assisted support bracket was put on. With each buckle tightened, Zhang Yuan's movements would slow down by half a beat.

Ten minutes later, the entire suit of armor was put on.

Lin Qingqiu stood under the searchlight, sixty pounds of steel distributed across his shoulders, spine, and legs. His face was pale from the light, and the last trace of color on his lips had faded.

Sweat rolled from her forehead to her brow bone. When she inhaled, her chest cavity was restricted by the straps, so the airflow was short when she entered and even shorter when she exhaled.

Chen Yan walked up to her, with only half a step between them.

"Once filming begins, you'll be wearing this gear on set for more than ten hours every day."

As he spoke, he lightly pressed his finger on the weight-bearing part of her shoulder.

"Running, climbing, and performing tactical maneuvers in a weightlessness simulator—there will be plenty of these."

Lin Qingqiu's shoulders slumped with the pressure, but she managed to push them back up.

"Your lower back will hurt so much that you won't be able to sleep soundly all night, and your skin will be chafed, scab over, and then chafed open again."

Chen Yan looked at her.

"This is just the test version; the final version will be heavier."

The fluorescent tubes in the shed emitted a faint electrical hum. Zhang Yuan stood beside the cart, his palms covered in black oil from the assembly process.

"Can you handle it?"

Lin Qingqiu faced Chen Yan's face, sweat dripping into her eyes, her eyelashes clumped together, but she didn't blink.

"As long as it's in your lens."

Her words were uttered with a dry, breathy tone, yet they didn't fade.

"I'd rather die than give up my life."

Chen Yan remained silent for a moment.

The heat of the searchlight beat down between the two of them. The air was filled with the smells of medicine, rust, and sweat from Lin Qingqiu's body, which was forced out by the weight of the lamp.

He raised his hand and used his thumb knuckle to wipe away the drop of sweat from her chin. The movement was gentle, but it was as if he had completely handed over the role to her.

Su Wan walked out from beside the lamp stand, holding a warm towel and a cup of glucose water.

She didn't interrupt Chen Yan, but stood beside Lin Qingqiu, placed a towel on her forehead, and then held a straw to her lips.

Lin Qingqiu lowered his head and took a sip, his throat bobbing, his arm still resting on the heavy steel, not lowered.

The three people were enveloped in white light, their shadows stretched long and thin across the concrete ground.

At the same time, a window on the top floor of the Jinghai Film and Television Building was still lit.

The main light in the dark room was off; the desk lamp on the desk cast a small, dim yellow halo, leaving everything outside the desk in complete darkness.

Lu Haiming stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Chang'an Avenue streaming down his face. Half of his face was reflected in the glass, while the other half was swallowed by the night.

The secretary stood three steps behind him, holding a report in her hand, the edges of the pages bent by her thumb.

"Wang, the comprador, has gone missing."

The secretary lifted the paper up slightly, not daring to get any closer.

"News came back from Taiyuan that Yan Haishan's men had taken over the scene on the mountain road."

He paused, licking his dry upper lip with the tip of his tongue.

"Wang, the comprador, has probably already entered the Fen River area."

Lu Haiming did not turn around. He tapped the glass curtain wall a few times with his finger, each tap spaced about the same.

"What about Li Jianguo?"

"Audition failed."

The secretary turned to the next page.

"Chen Yan pushed Lin Qingqiu forward, and the plan for the five major cinema chains to fill the positions failed."

The paper trembled slightly.

"President Li has said that he will block Yanying Culture from scheduling screenings."

Lu Haiming then turned around, walked to his desk, and opened the bottom drawer.

A small safe was embedded in the drawer.

He pressed the keypad rapidly, the knob turned, and the cabinet door popped open a narrow crack.

There was no cash or gold bars inside, only a few brown paper bags.

He pulled out the bottom paper bag; the paper was yellowed, the edges were frayed, and it had the words "Tianjin Public Security Bureau, 1996" printed on it.

He opened the bag and pulled out the documents one by one, spreading them out under the lamp.

Copies of the original case files for the clock tower collapse, key witness statements, and preliminary investigation reports on the flow of funds—every page carried the musty smell of an old archive room.

Back then, the money and favors he spent to make this document a permanent record were enough to build another half-street.

But Liang Qinian is still investigating.

Chen Yan was holding the East Asia Trust line in his hand again.

The paper made a soft rustling sound under Lu Haiming's fingertips.

"Chen Yan is growing up too fast."

Lu Haiming threw the case file on the table, and several pages slid open to reveal a witness signature.

"He used to be just a student making art films, but now he can access Yan Haishan's money, get access to China Film Group's resources, and even dare to reach out to Shougang Heavy Industry."

He looked up, the lamplight falling on his nose and cheekbones, making his facial features appear harsh and defined.

"This is no longer a small pebble blocking our way; it has become a mountain standing in front of us."

The secretary lowered her head and did not reply.

Lu Haiming picked up the red secure phone on the table and dialed a number with only seven digits.

The bell rang four times.

The call was answered.

"Sorry to bother you so late, old boss."

His address was respectful, but his eyes held only the coldness of someone turning the abacus.

An old voice came from the other end of the phone.

"What is it?"

"That fly grew up and started biting people."

Lu Haiming looked down at the case file on the table, his fingertip pressing against the words "Clock Tower Collapse Case".

"He's going to hold a grand opening ceremony at Shougang's No. 3 plant next month."

"How do you want to handle this?"

"Make him wear handcuffs at the opening ceremony and send him back to Tianjin from Shougang."

Lu Haiming turned over one of the pages of the transcript, revealing another document that had been tucked underneath.

"I've prepared the charges: suspected economic fraud, embezzlement of state-owned assets, and involvement in organized crime."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by static from the line.

"Make sure the chain of evidence is solid, and don't try to pull it further up the chain."

"Don't worry."

Lu Haiming reassembled the case files into a single stack.

"The Tianjin Municipal Public Security Bureau has already given instructions, and the special task force will be established tomorrow."

The phone hangs up.

The dark room fell silent again, and the lamplight fell on the red receiver, making it appear dark and somber.

Lu Haiming leaned back in his chair, looked up at the ceiling, and his Adam's apple bobbed slowly.

"Chen Yan, do you want to be remembered in history?"

His palm covered the stack of old files, the pages sinking gently into his hand.

"I'll ruin your reputation."

The traffic outside the window continued to move, and the lights of Chang'an Avenue stretched into the distance one after another.

"It's time to end this game."