Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 32 The Power of the US Dollar

The Cannes sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds, casting a sticky glow into the fifth-floor apartment in the old town.

The Palme d'Or trophy was casually placed on a greasy wooden table, next to cheap beer bottles and bread wrappers, making it seem somewhat unreal.

Su Wan sat at the table, holding the draft of Wild Bunch's English contract in her hand, her lips moving as she recited the terms word by word.

Her eyes were dark and her fingertips were still wrapped in bandages from yesterday's cuts.

"Chen Yan, do you think... they'll really give that much money?"

Her voice was hoarse, carrying a hangover-like weariness and unease.

Chen Yan was leaning against the window, pushing open the creaking wooden window and letting the sea breeze in.

He pulled a crumpled red plum blossom from his pocket, didn't light it, and put it in his mouth.

"He's not buying a short film, he's buying the Palme d'Or."

Chen Yan walked over and tapped the prepayment amount column on Su Wan's contract with his finger.

"When you meet him later, don't think about anything else, just keep your eyes on the contract. If he tries to lower the price, just drink your coffee and don't rush to reply."

"I..." Su Wan wanted to say something, but in the end she swallowed her words and nodded heavily.

Downstairs, Zhang Yuan had already started the chipped bread truck, the engine making a wheezing sound.

The Côte d'Azur restaurant on the Nice waterfront.

Vincent was already seated in the seat closest to the sea, having changed into a light blue linen shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, and two sturdy briefcases in front of him.

"Chen, over here."

Vincent waved, his face crinkling into a wide grin.

As Su Wan sat down, the chair leg accidentally scraped against the floor tiles, making a sharp noise.

She froze, her hands instinctively clenching the hem of her clothes.

Under the table, a hand reached out and gently covered the back of her hand.

That hand was steady, and had a cool temperature.

"Director Chen, last night's screening was the craziest scene I've ever seen in my five years in the industry."

Vincent presented a bilingual contract, stating bluntly, "Wild Bunch will pay a $50 upfront payment for the global distribution rights to 'Night Watch.' In addition, we want 20% of the global box office revenue, excluding China."

Half a million dollars.

Su Wan's fingers, which were holding the coffee cup, trembled suddenly, and a few drops of the scalding liquid spilled onto her faded jeans.

This amount is enough to buy several houses in Yanjing.

She looked at Chen Yan, but he seemed not to hear her, and was looking at a seagull that had failed to dive over the sea.

"Vincent," Chen Yan finally turned around, his tone as calm as if he were commenting on the weather, "I only cut one minute of that clock tower footage. I plan to use the remaining nine minutes in my next feature film."

He paused, then added, "The film is called 'Thunder'."

Vincent's eye twitched.

He leaned forward, placing his hands crossed on the table, instantly releasing a businessman's imposing aura: "Chen, you know the rules of Cannes. Too many short film geniuses have gone on to make feature films and ended up utterly crushed. You're holding the Palme d'Or for short films, not the Palme d'Or for the Grand Prix."

Su Wan took a deep breath and spoke.

Following Chen Yan's instructions, she avoided looking into Vincent's eyes, her gaze fixed on the twelfth page of the contract.

"Mr. Vincent, you want to buy 'Night Watch' because it's the only film at Cannes this year that's labeled 'exposing the original sin of capitalism,' a topic that's very valuable in Europe."

Her voice wasn't loud, but she enunciated each word clearly: "But the short film has limited theatrical value. What you want is the priority investment rights and agency rights for 'Thunder'."

Vincent's smile faded as he re-examined the somewhat shabby-looking Chinese girl.

"So, $50," Su Wan raised her head and looked directly at the other person, "is being used to dismiss a student, not to show respect to a Palme d'Or-winning director."

She pushed the contract back an inch, a small but firm movement.

"US$150 million. To buy out 'Night Watch' and get priority global distribution rights for 'Thunder'. If we can't get that amount, I think the people from Faraday Films will be happy to talk to us at the Sofitel Hotel's cocktail party tonight."

The only sound in the restaurant was the crashing of the waves.

A waiter tried to come over to refill the water, but Vincent deterred him with a single look.

Su Wan felt that the back of her shirt was soaked with cold sweat. She picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. The cold liquid tasted bitter.

You are his only one, but he is not our only one.

Chen Yan's words from last night echoed in her mind.

"Oh."

Vincent suddenly burst out laughing. He pulled another document and a pen from his briefcase and slammed them heavily on the table.

"You Chinese, you're really good at calculating!"

When the bank check for $150 million was placed on the table, Su Wan felt that the thin piece of paper was heavier than the Palme d'Or trophy from the previous night.

When she signed her name on the last page of the contract, her hand trembled so badly that the last stroke left an ugly mark.

"Chen, I hope to see you here again next year."

Vincent put away the contract, stood up and shook hands with Chen Yan, "Of course, that's on the premise that your clock tower can actually be built."

"Yes."

Chen Yan shook hands in return, "After returning to China, I will personally go and lay the foundation."

After Vincent left, the three of them sat on the terrace in silence.

Zhang Yuan emerged from the shadows not far away, still clutching the pipe wrench he used for self-defense.

"Chen Yan, this money... is it real?"

Chen Yan picked up the check, glanced at the number on it, and casually handed it to Su Wan.

"real."

He struck a match and lit the red plum blossom he had been holding in his mouth for so long.

"Zhang Yuan," Chen Yan exhaled a puff of smoke, "after you return to China, go to Tianjin and find those old craftsmen who worked with Lu Haiming to build the building back then."

"Why would you want to see them?"

"Tell them I'll pay them double. The clock tower in the movie must be rebuilt exactly as it was on the original blueprints."

Zhang Yuan was stunned: "Rebuild...build it back? Wouldn't that be an illegal structure?"

"No."

Chen Yan stubbed out his cigarette and said softly, "That's the place we're going to blow up."

……

Martinez Hotel, penthouse suite.

The carpet was covered with expensive Bordeaux wine and shards of glass.

Lu Haiming stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the ant-like pedestrians on the beach.

"Mr. Lu, I just received news..." Wang, the comprador, covered his face, his voice muffled, "Chen Yan sold the overseas copyrights to Wild Bunch for 1.5 million... US dollars."

Lu Haiming didn't turn around; the veins on the back of his hand, which was gripping the curtain cord, were bulging.

"One and a half million US dollars... He really dares to ask for a high price."

Lu Haiming's voice was cold and deep, "Have you taken care of all the domestic cinemas?"

"It's all taken care of. Huaying Film Studio has also given the word that if he dares to submit his film for review, he can forget about getting the film's approval certificate. Without the certificate, he won't sell a single ticket!"

"not enough."

Lu Haiming abruptly pulled back the curtains, the heavy velvet completely blocking out the sunlight. "Go investigate that script of his called 'Thunder'! Spread the word in the stunt industry that anyone who dares to take Chen Yan's job is going against me, Lu Haiming! I'll make sure he can't find a single extra when he returns to China!"

……

Nice Airport that evening.

Lin Shufen came specially to see him off. She looked at Chen Yan with a complicated expression.

"All the domestic reports about your award have been suppressed. Lu Haiming's influence is greater than you imagine. You've won this award with great fanfare, but you've also offended a lot of people. Be careful when you go back."

"Thank you, Sister Lin."

Chen Yan accepted the business card she handed him and bent down to help Su Wan pack her luggage.

Su Wan wrapped the Palme d'Or trophy in her old cheongsam and stuffed it deep inside her suitcase.

At the boarding gate, Su Wan clutched the small leather purse containing the checks, like a mother lioness protecting her cubs.

"Chen Yan," she grabbed him before he entered the cabin, "Are we... really going to go back and blow up that clock tower? That's where Lu Haiming made his fortune."

Chen Yan turned around and glanced at the lights on the distant helipad.

"That's not where he made his fortune."

He patted Su Wan on the shoulder. "That's his grave. Let's go home."

The plane accelerated on the runway and plunged into the night sky.

Chen Yan leaned back in the cramped economy class seat and closed his eyes.

The deafening roar of the engine echoed in his ears, silencing all the surrounding noise.

In the darkness, a name surfaced from the depths of his mind.

Wu Gang.