Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 47 The Sound of Dollars Falling to the Ground

Freeze frame. Chen Yan's finger pressed the emergency stop button on the editing console.

On the screen, Liang Qinian's silhouette lingers at the edge of the excavated pit. That was the last blank sheet of paper before filming began for the feature film "Thunder".

"Buzz—Buzz—"

The phone on the table vibrated again. The number displayed on the screen started with "+33," which was the French area code.

Chen Yan picked up the receiver and ran his fingertips along the edge of the metal casing.

"Chen! Listen, things have taken a turn for the worse."

Vincent's voice came from Paris, thousands of kilometers away, mixed with the rapid tapping of a keyboard.

"The legal department just received an interception application from the Cayman Islands. The other party, citing copyright disputes and unclear asset ownership, froze the remittance route of the three million US dollars through a Hong Kong intermediary bank."

Chen Yan switched the phone to his left hand and took a cigarette from the cigarette pack with his right hand, but didn't light it.

"Lu Haiming's friends inside aren't quite dead yet."

"This isn't just about whether they're truly dead or not," Vincent cursed on the other end. "They're playing games by exploiting the time difference in international remittances. It takes the judge forty-eight hours to review this application, and during those forty-eight hours, you won't see a single penny in your account."

"Vincent, what's your suggestion?"

"I can convert this money into checks, or deposit it directly into WildBunch's offshore account, and then send someone to fly over with cash or a letter of credit. But you'll need time, and my process will also take time."

Chen Yan looked out the window. The playground of Beijing Film Academy was pitch black, with only a few broken streetlights swaying in the wind.

"No need. Vincent, split this payment into three parts. Keep one part in France to pay the equipment deposit, and transfer the other two parts to my personal account registered in Hong Kong. As for the transfer, don't use the bank's public account; use your special channel for handling 'gray copyrights'."

"That would result in a loss of at least five percent in transaction fees."

"I'll cover the transaction fees. All I want is for the money to be available within 24 hours."

Chen Yan hung up the phone.

Su Wan shifted on the bench, her black wool coat slipping off her shoulders. She opened her eyes, her gaze lingering on Chen Yan's face for two seconds before she sat up straight.

"Is it a matter of money?"

"The road to Huilu was blocked, which was expected."

Chen Yan threw the unlit cigarette on the table, stood up and walked towards the wall covered with design drawings.

"Su Wan, is there any news from Sister Lin?"

Su Wan looked down and scrolled through the memos on her phone, her finger tapping the screen.

"Sister Lin went to the southern suburbs this afternoon. She negotiated a deal for an abandoned cold storage facility near the meat processing plant. It's a building from the 1980s, with walls over 60 centimeters thick, and the soundproofing is even better than the sheds on campus."

"Who owns the property rights?"

"The logistics service center in Guibu does not belong to any film studio, nor is it listed in the directory of film and television bases. Sister Lin said that the manager there owed her a favor before, so the contract can be signed under the name of warehouse leasing."

Chen Yan nodded and pressed his finger heavily on the southern suburbs of the map.

"Have Sister Lin sign the contract tonight. Bring Wu Gang and the other experienced workers over before dawn tomorrow."

"But that's a cold storage room. There's nothing there except a few walls," Su Wan said.

"A wall is enough." Chen Yan turned to look at Su Wan. "In Yanjing, wherever there is a wall, that's my territory."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the door to the editing room was pushed open forcefully from the outside.

Yan Huaizhong walked in, followed by the Lu family's lawyer. The lawyer was carrying a black briefcase, his tie was askew, and his chest was heaving violently.

"Mr. Chen, I think we should discuss the second option."

The lawyer placed his briefcase on the editing table, and with a click, the zipper was unzipped.

Inside, stacks of red RMB banknotes were neatly stacked.

"Twenty million."

The lawyer's hand rested on the stack of banknotes, his palm trembling slightly from the pressure.

"These are Mr. Lu's exact words. As long as you sign the copyright buyout agreement for 'Thunder' and hand over that so-called negative from Tianjin, the 20 million is just a deposit, and the remaining 50 million in compensation will be paid in installments."

Yan Huaizhong stood at the door with his hands behind his back, his eyes fixed on the pile of banknotes, his face expressionless.

Chen Yan took a step forward. His leather shoes made a slight scraping sound as they stepped on the scraps of film.

He picked up the yellowed lawyer's letter from the table, folded it in half with both hands, then pressed the edges together, creating a triangular point, his fingernails repeatedly tracing the crease.

In less than a minute, a white paper boat appeared in Chen Yan's hand.

"Mr. Chen, 20 million RMB could buy half a street in Beijing in 2001."

The lawyer's voice rose, his eyes revealing an almost desperate impatience.

Chen Yan walked to the window and opened it. A cold wind rushed in, making the few scraps of film on the table rustle.

Below the window was a drainage ditch filled with melted snow water, which gleamed with a greasy green sheen.

Chen Yan flicked his wrist. The paper boat spun around and fell into the ditch. The sewage quickly soaked through the paper, and the white, pointed tip dangled twice on the black water before sinking into the mud.

"Twenty million."

Chen Yan turned around and looked at the lawyer's face.

"You can't buy back Lu Haiming's life. Go back and tell that guy surnamed Lu to keep those twenty million and use it to buy himself a decent burial plot. The kind with a solid foundation, not like a clock tower that collapses in the wind."

The lawyer's face turned deathly pale under the light, and his lips trembled slightly.

"You're ruining your future. Without the official seal, without equipment, without investment, you can't even develop a single meter of film in Yanjing!"

"Teacher Yan, see the guest out."

Chen Yan didn't look at him again and turned to walk deeper into the server room.

Yan Huaizhong turned to the side, and with his cane held horizontally at the door, it made a dull thud.

"Please, comrade."

The lawyer picked up his briefcase and staggered out of the room.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor before disappearing into the depths of the laboratory building.

Yan Huaizhong went back inside and locked the door behind him. He took out a red stamp from his pocket and pressed it onto a blank piece of paper on the table.

"The school's opinion has been released. That cold storage facility is nominally registered under the name of the Beijing Film Academy's Experimental Film Base and is considered an 'academic experimental project.' As long as no one dies, no one can go in and search it."

Chen Yan took the stamped certificate, folded it, and put it in his shirt pocket.

"Thank you, teacher."

"Don't thank me. If your three million dollars doesn't arrive, I can't save you either."

Yan Huaizhong coughed, turned around and went out.

Three o'clock in the morning. Southern suburbs, meat processing plant.

Two dilapidated bread trucks turned off their headlights and slowly slid through the rusty iron gate.

Wu Gang was the first to jump out of the car. He was wearing a heavy blue work uniform and carrying a heavy crowbar. Behind him followed a dozen or so middle-aged men, each with large hands and somewhat sinister eyes in the darkness.

Chen Yan got out of the car and looked up at the huge concrete building in front of him.

The plaster on the wall was peeling off badly, revealing the bluish-gray bricks underneath.

"Brother Yan, I've checked the site; the foundation is very stable."

Zhang Yuan ran over and handed Chen Yan a hand-drawn circuit diagram.

"The transformer in the cold storage is still usable. I just tested it, and the voltage is stable. As long as we turn off those large refrigeration units, the freed-up power will be enough to power six 12K video lights."

Chen Yan took the circuit diagram and glanced at the marked connection points.

"Old Zhang, contact them in Hong Kong."

"Contact Hong Kong?" Zhang Yuan was taken aback.

"If the equipment rental company in Yanjing won't lend it, then we won't lend it either."

Chen Yan pulled a well-worn notebook from his pocket and flipped to the last page. It was filled with densely written equipment serial numbers and contact information.

"Contact Pan Asia Films' equipment department. Pay using the account I left in Hong Kong. The rental fee will be settled daily, shipped by sea to Tianjin Port, and then brought in by truck."

Chen Yan picked up a red marker and wrote down phrases on the white paper.

His pen tip scraped across the paper, making a harsh, grinding sound.

"No domestically made camera rails. No secondhand lighting equipment. All shooting equipment must be a complete ARRI set, from the ARRI FLEX 535B camera body to the Zeiss Master Prime lens kit; nothing can be substandard."

Zhang Yuan swallowed hard.

"Brother Yan. These things, with customs duties and shipping costs, cost over ten thousand Hong Kong dollars a day."

"The money from Vincent's side will make a sound as soon as it lands."

Chen Yan closed the notebook and patted it into Zhang Yuan's arms.

"Get it done. Before dawn, I want to see this cold storage facility become the hardest fortress in the world."

Su Wan stood not far away. She watched Chen Yan's back.

Chen Yan was standing in the center of the cold storage, arms outstretched, as if measuring the width of this desolate ruin.

Moonlight streamed down from the ventilation opening high up, falling on his shoulders.

"Angkor, get the brothers to work."

Chen Yan's voice echoed through the empty cold storage.

"Tear down that partition wall in the middle. Right here, rebuild that clock tower for me."

Wu Gang swung the crowbar and slammed it heavily onto the cement pillar.

"Thump!"

Gravel flew everywhere, and dust quickly dispersed in the cold air.

Chen Yan stood still.

He stared at the gaping hole that had been smashed open, his right hand slowly clenching into a fist.

The scene froze at that moment. Chen Yan's pupils reflected the swirling dust.

This was the first hammer strike before filming began.