This director only directs blockbusters.

After leaving the China Film Group building, Yang Ning did not go straight back to school.

He squatted on the curb and lit a cigarette—a brand new one, Hongtashan, seven yuan a pack. He had quit before his rebirth, but now he'd picked it up again.

The smoke was choking me, but my mind was clear.

Han Shanping's words echoed in my ears: You need to think this through—why should you expect hundreds of people to listen to you?

On what grounds?

At twenty-two, he had no portfolio, no experience, and couldn't even scrape together five hundred yuan.

Just because of twenty years of extra memories in my brain? Just because of that broken system that hasn't even been activated yet?

The cigarette burned my fingertip, and I felt a slight burn.

Yang Ning stubbed out his cigarette, stood up, and patted the ash off his pants.

Okay, if you don't have qualifications, then create them; if you don't have any works, then create some.

We need to let people see something tangible.

The video store called "Brother Yong" is still open near the back gate of the film academy.

The storefront is small, the signboard is faded, and the glass door is covered with posters of Hong Kong movies—"A Better Tomorrow," "Ashes of Time," and "A Chinese Odyssey."

Pushing open the door, the wind chimes tinkled.

There was no one in the store except for a bald guy huddled behind the counter, playing "The King of Fighters '97" on a small 14-inch TV.

"Liu Yong," Yang Ning called out.

The bald man didn't turn around, his fingers clicking rapidly on the joystick: "Wait a minute, this game is almost here... Holy crap!"

The screen turned red, KO.

Liu Yong slammed the joystick down and turned around: "Who is it... Oh, Yang Ning?"

Liu Yong, 38 years old, former art director at Pearl River Film Studio.

I was laid off during factory restructuring in 1996, and I opened this video store in Beijing, also selling pirated DVDs and occasionally taking on odd jobs.

Editing videos for wedding planning companies and shooting promotional videos for businesses.

Yang Ning met him in her previous life on the set of the film "The Promise" in 2005.

Liu Yong was working odd jobs in the special effects team at the time. He was remembered by Yang Ning because he dared to argue with the Korean special effects team.

Later, after we got to know each other better, I realized that this bald guy had something special inside him:

He's skilled in art direction, special effects, modeling, and editing, but he has a terrible temper and offends people everywhere.

After being reborn, she used the information from her previous life to start dating earlier.

"What's up?" Liu Yong pulled out two bottles of Beibingyang soda from under the counter and tossed one over.

Yang Ning answered the phone but didn't open it: "I need you to do some work."

"What kind of work?"

"Shoot a short film. Five minutes, apocalyptic theme, with special effects."

Liu Yong chuckled: "How much?"

"I have no money."

"..." Liu Yong slammed the soda bottle on the counter. "Kid, you messed with me?"

"I don't have any money right now," Yang Ning stared at him. "But I have to defend my dissertation at China Film Group next Monday."

Han Shanping sat in the middle, surrounded by five bigwigs. "I need to take a sample image with me."

The smile on Liu Yong's face disappeared.

He stared at Yang Ning for a full ten seconds, then bent down and pulled out another pack of cigarettes from under the counter, lighting it.

"China Film Group? Han Shanping?" He exhaled a puff of smoke. "Are you fucking asleep?"

"He's awake." Yang Ning took out a storyboard from his bag, flipped to the "Monster Siege" page, and pushed it over. "Take a look at this."

Liu Yong squinted and looked at it for a while.

Fingers traced across the screen, moving from the lines of lightning to the outline of the monster.

"...Did you draw this?"

"Um."

"This composition, this dynamic..." Liu Yong looked up, "Who did you learn that from?"

"Self-taught."

"Bullshit." Liu Yong stubbed out his cigarette. "This is clearly something ground up in an industrial process. Where would a student like you get this kind of experience?"

Yang Ning did not respond.

Liu Yong looked at it for a while longer, then suddenly asked, "How much budget do you want?"

"Five thousand," Yang Ning said. "Five thousand at most. I'll borrow the equipment from the school, find classmates for the actors, and find a free venue."

The money was mainly spent on materials—making monster models, doing special effects makeup, and buying cigarette butt blood.

"Five thousand for this?" Liu Yong pointed to the densely packed horde of monsters on the screen. "Are you kidding me?"

"Just one shot." Yang Ning turned to another page. "The protagonist is standing on the ruins, there are monster shadows in the distance, and lightning flashes in the clouds. Just thirty seconds."

He pointed to the scene: "The live-action part, an actor, a scene of ruins."

The monster is depicted in silhouette, and the lightning effect is added in post-production.

But the texture needs to be captured—the layers of distress on the clothes, the dirt and bloodstains on the skin, the dust particles in the air… Can you achieve these details?

Liu Yong fell silent.

He looked down at the painting, then looked up at Yang Ning, then looked at the painting again.

Then he suddenly laughed, a somewhat ferocious laugh.

"Five thousand dollars, trying to create an industrial look?" He stood up and emerged from behind the counter; he wasn't tall, but his shoulders were broad.

"Yang Ning, do you know that when I was at Pearl River Film Studio, the budget for a single model prop was..."

"I know," Yang Ning interrupted him, "but how long has it been since you've touched anything real?"

Liu Yong choked.

"Editing wedding videos, shooting corporate promotional videos... do those things even deserve your skills?"

Yang Ning's voice wasn't loud, but every word landed like a hammer blow: "Brother Yong, are you resigned to this?"

The store was quiet.

Only the background music from "The King of Fighters '97" played on a monotonous loop from the small TV.

Liu Yong walked back to the counter, picked up the bottle of Beibingyang soda, and gulped down half of it.

"Where's the script?" he asked.

Yang Ning handed over two pages of paper.

Liu Yong glanced at it: "That's it? Thirty seconds of footage, no lines, just a guy standing there looking at the sky?"

"Emotional drama," Yang Ning said. "A lone survivor in post-apocalyptic ruins, facing threats in the distance, yet waiting for a ray of light."

"conventional."

"If it's well-shot, it'll be good."

Liu Yong slammed the script on the counter: "Where are the actors?"

"I have someone in mind."

"Who?"

"Lin Xuan from the Performing Arts Department."

Liu Yong was taken aback: "That... theatrical maniac?"

"right."

Lin Xuan, a third-year student majoring in acting, is nicknamed "theatrical maniac".

In her previous life, she was supposed to have gained some popularity in 2004 with a TV series, and then quickly fade into obscurity.

But Yang Ning knew that this girl was talented—extremely sensitive, able to completely immerse herself in a role, but her weakness was that she was prone to losing control.

"Would she agree?" Liu Yong frowned. "It's a job that doesn't pay."

"I'll go tell them."

Liu Yong lit another cigarette, and after smoking half of it, he said, "Makeup, props, special effects—I can't handle all of that by myself."

"Who else do we need?"

"We need someone who knows about lighting. I can do photography on the side, but the lighting must be done by a specialist." Liu Yong thought for a moment.

"There's this kid in the photography department named Chen Lei. He's really good at playing with lights, and he often gets scolded by the teachers for not following the rules. But his methods... are kind of interesting."

"I'll go find it." Yang Ning wrote down the name.

"And then there are the script supervisors, production assistants, general laborers..." Liu Yong counted on his fingers, "We'll need at least four or five more people."

"There are plenty of students at school who want to put their knowledge into practice," Yang Ning said. "I created a group chat."

Liu Yong stared at him for a long time, and finally sighed: "Yang Ning, you're a fucking lunatic."

"Will you do it or not?"

"...Cheers." Liu Yong stubbed out his cigarette. "But it's a deal, if this film really gets you the China Film Group project..."

"The position of visual effects supervisor is reserved for you," Yang Ning said. "You set the budget, and you build the team."

Liu Yong laughed, this time a genuine laugh: "Fine, I'll take your words for granted."

It was already dark when I came out of the video store.

Yang Ning didn't go back to her dormitory; she went straight to the performing arts department building.

The lights were still on in the rehearsal room on the third floor.

He pushed open the door and went in, and saw Lin Xuan standing alone in front of the mirror, performing a monologue to thin air.

She played Fanyi in "Thunderstorm," a character whose performance was an explosion after extreme repression.

Without any co-stars, she acted in front of her own reflection in the mirror.

"I'm just... just..." Her voice trembled, her fingers digging into her palms, "...a woman locked in a cage..."

Yang Ning didn't disturb them and leaned against the door frame to watch.

This girl is truly insane. The despair in her eyes is so real, so real, that it makes you worry she won't be able to get out.

Three minutes later, Lin Xuan finished her performance, collapsed on the ground, and gasped for breath.

Looking up and seeing Yang Ning, he paused, startled: "Who are you?"

"Directing Department, Yang Ning."

"What's up?"

"I need you to film a short film." Yang Ning walked in and handed her the script. "Five minutes, apocalyptic theme, no dialogue."

Lin Xuan didn't take it, but asked first, "Do you want money?"

"No."

"I won't go." She stood up and packed her backpack.

"But I can let you act for real once," Yang Ning said.

Lin Xuan stopped moving.

"You played Fanyi very well just now, but you were still acting." Yang Ning looked into her eyes.

"What I want is not to act. It's to become—"

Be the one who survived three years in the apocalypse, lost everything, but is still waiting for the light.