This director only directs blockbusters.

Yang Ning looked at it from left to right.

Overall, these superstars seemed to be in pretty good spirits.

"I am the head instructor, and Lao Xu is the deputy instructor."

The training schedule is posted on the bulletin board every day. Those who don't complete it will have to do extra practice. Anyone who talks back will be fired.

He paused.

"Now, let's run five kilometers to warm up. One lap around the track is 400 meters, twelve and a half laps. The last three will not get lunch."

Someone inhaled.

"Still standing there? Run!"

The team got moving.

It was okay at first, but by the third lap, some people had fallen behind.

Fan Binbin's face was pale, and he was breathing heavily.

Huang Xiaoming gritted his teeth and followed, but his steps were already erratic.

Zhou Xun, on the other hand, remained steady, breathing evenly, and ran in the middle.

Hu Ge, being young, took the lead. Peter Ho followed behind him.

Lin Xuan ran the hardest, biting her lip until it bled.

Yang Ning rode his bicycle alongside, holding a stopwatch.

"Hurry up! At this speed, even zombies can't catch you!"

On the fifth lap, Fan Binbin fell.

My knee is scraped and bleeding.

She sat on the ground, looking at her wound, without moving.

Yang Ning stopped the car and got out: "Can you stand up?"

Fan Binbin looked up, her eyes glistening with tears, but they didn't fall.

"able."

She pushed herself up and continued running, limping.

Blood flowed down his calf and dripped onto the track.

Yang Ning didn't help, but followed on his bicycle.

It was almost 10 o'clock when I finished running five kilometers.

The last three were two actresses and a supporting actor, squatting on the ground panting.

"There was no lunch," Yang Ning said. "I just watched others eat."

"Director Yang, I..." the supporting actor tried to argue.

"Say one more thing, and there's no dinner either."

No one dared to utter a sound.

The morning session is for basic physical training.

Sit-ups, push-ups, pull-ups.

Huang Xiaoming collapsed after doing thirty push-ups, his arms shaking like a leaf.

Fan Binbin's knees were wrapped in gauze, but he performed every movement perfectly, his hair completely soaked with sweat.

Zhou Xun was the most relaxed and could even whisper to Lin Xuan next to him.

"Have you practiced before?" Lin Xuan asked, panting.

"I spent two years at a sports school when I was a kid," Zhou Xun laughed. "Then I switched to dance."

At lunchtime, long tables were set up in the large canteen.

The food was good, with two meat dishes and two vegetable dishes, and unlimited rice.

But the last three could only sit at a small table on the side, with only a bowl of white porridge and a dish of pickled vegetables in front of them.

Fan Binbin shoveled rice into his mouth, glancing over there every now and then.

Yang Ning sat opposite her, holding a tray of food.

"What are you looking at?"

"No." Fan Binbin lowered her head and ate.

"This afternoon's lesson is on basic combat skills," Yang Ning said. "You have a knee injury, so you can take the day off."

"I won't invite you."

"It may worsen."

"So what if it gets worse?" Fan Binbin looked up. "In the script, Lin Xue fought seventeen battles while injured. I'm nothing compared to that."

Yang Ning looked at her for two seconds.

"OK."

The afternoon combat training session featured instructors from the People's Armed Police.

Teach basic grappling and takedown techniques.

I kept falling and tumbling, even though there was a mat on the ground. It still hurt when I fell on it.

When Huang Xiaoming was thrown for the first time, he groaned and couldn't get up for a long time.

Fan Binbin has knee problems, and the instructor adjusted her movements, but she still aggravated her injury every time she fell, and her face turned as white as paper.

Zhou Xun learned quickly; he was able to overturn his sparring partner on his third try.

During a break from training, the actors sprawled on mats and drank water.

Hu Ge rubbed his shoulder: "Director Yang, are we making a movie or enlisting in the army?"

"We're making a post-apocalyptic movie." Yang Ning squatted down beside him. "In the apocalypse, there's no time for you to put on airs."

Every punch has to be a real strike, every parkour move has to be a real escape.

He stood up and clapped his hands.

"Meet in the screening room at 7 PM. We'll watch a film."

They showed "Saving Private Ryan" and "Black Hawk Down" in the evening.

Both are war films, but their styles are completely different.

The lights were off in the screening room, with only the screen light shining on everyone's faces.

When the Normandy landings were shown, with blood and gore flying everywhere, some people covered their eyes.

When you see the alleyway battle in "Black Hawk Down," with bullets grazing your scalp, some people duck their necks.

After finishing, Yang Ning turned on the lights.

"What did you figure out?"

silence.

Huang Xiaoming raised his hand: "Realism. Everyone in 'Soldiers' is trembling, and everyone in 'Black Hawk Down' is panting."

"Yes." Yang Ning walked forward. "Why are you trembling? Because you're cold, because you're scared. Why are you panting? Because you're tired, because you're nervous."

He pointed at the screen.

"Our film also needs this sense of realism. Lu Ran's hand was shaking when he killed someone for the first time."

Lin Xue was undergoing surgery and her breathing was erratic. Su Man used her supernatural ability to "see" a bloody scene and felt nauseous.

"But..." a supporting actress whispered, "this is a science fiction movie."

"Even the characters in science fiction movies are afraid, tired, and trembling." Yang Ning looked at her.

"Remember, we're not filming gods fighting, we're filming a group of ordinary people fighting desperately in the apocalypse."

It was already 10 o'clock when the meeting ended.

The actors returned to their dormitories with heavy steps.

Yang Ning was the last to leave, turning off the lights and locking the door.

As I walked out of the building, I saw someone sitting by the playground.

It's Fan Binbin.

She hugged her knees, looking at the dark mountains.

Yang Ning walked over and handed her a bottle of water.

"Can't sleep?"

"Hmm." Fan Binbin took the water. "Director Yang, why do you think Lin Xue is so stubborn?"

"Because the person she loves is working so hard." Yang Ning sat down next to her. "She has to keep up; she can't hold them back."

"What if... what if you can't keep up?"

"Then die." Yang Ning said decisively, "In the apocalypse, the consequence of being a burden is death."

Fan Binbin remained silent.

After a while, she whispered, "When I was running the last lap today, I really wanted to give up."

"But you didn't give up."

"Because you're watching." Fan Binbin turned his head. "If I give up, you'll definitely look down on me."

Yang Ning laughed: "I look down on plenty of people, one more won't make a difference."

Fan Binbin laughed, but as she laughed, her eyes reddened.

"Director Yang, can I play the role of Lam Suet well?"

"It depends on whether you're willing to become her."

The night breeze swept across the playground, carrying the scent of grass.

A few lights were still on in the dormitory building in the distance.

"Go back now." Yang Ning stood up. "Don't be late for the morning run at six tomorrow."

Fan Binbin got up and limped back to his dormitory.

After taking a few steps, I turned back.

"Director Yang."

"Um?"

"Thanks."

Yang Ning waved his hand and turned to walk towards his building.

The corridor was dimly lit.

Old Xu poked his head out of the house: "Yangzi, do you have a clue what Jiang Zhiqiang is going to talk about tomorrow?"

"We've got it figured out." Yang Ning pushed open his bedroom door. "Let him see our determination, let him see our expertise."

"As for money...we'll talk about it when the film is halfway through."

"Will it work?"

"It has to be done, even if it doesn't work out."

Yang Ning closed the door and leaned against it.

The lights were off inside; only the moonlight streamed in through the window, casting a silvery glow on the floor.

He walked to the window and looked at the quiet training ground outside.

One month. Thirty days. To hone this group of people into a cohesive team.

It won't be easy, but it must be done.

He lit a cigarette, the embers flickering in the darkness.

See you tomorrow, Jiang Zhiqiang. Training continues the day after. One day at a time. This game of chess needs to be played slowly.