This director only directs blockbusters.

During halftime, several stagehands squatted in a corner, scrolling through their phones and whispering amongst themselves.

"Have you seen Weibo? The Directors Guild of China has issued a statement urging people to invest rationally..."

"More than that, my classmate at the film academy said that the teachers use our project as a negative example in class."

"No way..."

"Why not? They say we're setting a bad example, that students won't focus on storytelling anymore, and will only be thinking about special effects."

Yang Ning heard this, but didn't turn around.

Fan Binbin walked over and handed him a bottle of water.

"The rumors are getting pretty bad," she said.

"Um."

"You...aren't you scared?"

Yang Ning unscrewed the bottle cap, took a sip of water, and looked at her: "Are you scared?"

Fan Binbin paused for a moment, then shook his head.

"That's fine then," Yang Ning said. "Those who act aren't afraid, those who direct aren't afraid, so why should others worry about it?"

He stood up, grabbed the walkie-talkie: "Second phase, prepare! Demolition team, take your positions!"

Han Shanping arrived at lunchtime.

Without saying hello, he strolled straight into the film set. Gray jacket, hands behind his back, like an old cadre taking a leisurely stroll.

Yang Ning was watching the playback when he heard the noise and looked up.

"Chairman Han."

"How did the filming go?" Han Shanping walked over and glanced at the monitor.

"Not bad. We passed four this morning."

Han Shanping nodded and gestured outwards with his chin: "Say a few words."

The two walked to an open space outside the film set. In the distance were ruins, and nearby were piles of equipment cases. The wind was a bit strong, making Han Shanping's hair fly wildly.

"Have you read the newspaper?" he asked.

"I've seen it."

What are your thoughts?

"It's quite lively." Yang Ning lit a cigarette. "It's free publicity."

Han Shanping glanced at him and chuckled, "You're pretty tough, kid."

"What else can we do? Sit on the ground and cry?"

"I've already given Lu Chuan a message," Han Shanping said. "He won't say anything more publicly. But Jia Zhangke and his group... I can't reach them. They're not part of the China Film Group; they have their own faction."

"clear."

"But there is still pressure." Han Shanping paused. "An old leader from the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television called me early this morning and asked if the film was too 'Westernized.' I said no, it's a Chinese script, just using some new techniques."

Does he believe it?

"Believe it or not, we have to film it," Han Shanping said. "But you have to be careful with the proportions. Gore, violence, that apocalyptic, disheartening vibe... tone it down. Getting it approved is the biggest issue."

"I know what I'm doing."

Han Shanping patted him on the shoulder: "Go for it. Don't take the gossip outside to heart."

That's just how this circle is; if you're soft, they're hard; if you're hard, they're soft. Show them your true colors, and they'll shut up.

"clear."

Han Shanping left. Yang Ning stood there, finishing his cigarette.

We'll be filming an explosion scene this afternoon.

There were explosive charges buried in the ruins. Huang Xiaoming had to rush out of the explosion, roll around, get up and fire his gun.

It's dangerous, but just to be safe, let's give it a try.

"Three, two, one—explode!"

boom!

Dust billowed into the sky, and debris flew everywhere.

Huang Xiaoming darted out of the smoke with swift movements.

"Cut! Great!" Yang Ning shouted.

When the monitor played the footage, Huang Xiaoming's face trembled when the explosion happened—it wasn't acting, he was genuinely terrified.

But he didn't look away.

Yang Ning felt quite satisfied.

Before finishing work, Lao Xu ran over, clutching his phone, his face grim.

"Yangzi, take a look at this."

This is a screenshot from the film academy's internal forum. It's an anonymous post titled, "Yang Ning and His Sugar Daddies."

The content was even dirtier, saying that Yang Ning got investment by sleeping with actresses, that Fan Binbin was a "high-class escort," and that the whole group was a mess.

There were hundreds of people following below, some cursing, some believing, and some just watching for fun.

After reading it, Yang Ning handed the phone back.

"Check the IP address," he said. "Find the person who posted it and report them."

"Will this... work?"

"Why not?" Yang Ning looked at him. "Spreading rumors and defamation, infringing on one's reputation. A lawsuit against them will be successful every time."

"This is going to be a huge mess..."

"The bigger the better." Yang Ning laughed. "It'll be perfect for everyone to see that we not only dare to film, but we also dare to take things seriously."

Let those who hide behind their screens and type on their keyboards know that spouting nonsense comes at a price.

He didn't speak loudly, but several people nearby heard him.

Fan Binbin walked over and said, "Director Yang, I'd like to sue too."

"What are you suing for?"

"They said I was just 'accomplices'." Fan Binbin's eyes were icy cold. "I want them to publicly apologize and pay compensation. Not a penny less. And after they pay, I'll donate it all."

Huang Xiaoming chimed in, "Count me in. They say I only 'make a living off my looks,' but I've been rolling around in the mud for three months, are they blind?"

Zhou Xun raised his hand: "I'll sue too. They say I 'slept with the director to get a role,' that's intolerable."

Immediately, the crowd was filled with indignation.

Looking at them, Yang Ning suddenly felt that this encirclement might actually be a good thing.

At least it united everyone into a cohesive unit.

"Okay," he said. "Old Xu, find a lawyer. Sue everyone who's spreading rumors, every single one of them."

That evening, Yang Ning wrote a statement in his office.

This isn't about returning to the art debates between Lu Chuan and Jia Zhangke—that's unnecessary.

This is a legal statement addressing online rumors.

It's written in a very stiff style:

"Recently, a large number of false statements targeting the film crew and actors of the movie 'Purple Cloud Era' have appeared online, which are suspected of being defamation and insult... We have entrusted a law firm to initiate legal proceedings... We will not tolerate this..."

After he finished writing it, he sent it to the crew's group chat.

"Tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM, there will be a press conference. All the main actors must be present. Read this statement once, and then—no questions asked, meeting adjourned."

Old Xu replied, "So you're going to be so head-on?"

Yang Ning: "Otherwise what? Argue with them? We don't have time for that."

Fan Binbin messaged him privately: "Director Yang, thanks."

"What are you thanking me for?"

"Thank you for standing up for us. In the past, when things went wrong on set, the directors would just tell us actors to mind our own business and avoid trouble."

Yang Ning looked at the sentence and replied, "What should be endured, endure; what should not be endured, do not yield an inch."

He turned off his phone and walked to the window.

The night was so deep it seemed impossible to see through.

In the distance, the lights of Beijing stretch out in a sea of ​​color.

This circle is like a wild forest. There are tigers, jackals, and snakes hiding in the grass. There are all sorts of people, and if you tolerate everything, you'll be completely devoured.

Just like myself now, leading a newly assembled squad of soldiers, I've barged in.

Now, tigers and jackals are pouncing on us.

Then let's fight.

…………

The press conference is scheduled for 10:00 AM in the conference room on the third floor of China Film Group.

The long table, red cloth, and bottled water were neatly arranged.

Yang Ning sat in the middle, Fan Binbin on his left, Huang Xiaoming on his right, and Zhou Xun sat next to Fan Binbin.

Old Xu stood at the door, like a guardian deity.

It was a dark mass below.

Lens, voice recorder, notebook.

The reporters had taken their spots early, whispering among themselves, the air buzzing with excitement.

Yang Ning glanced at his watch; it was exactly ten o'clock.

He picked up the microphone, but instead of standing, he sat down.

"Thank you to all the media friends for coming." The voice, a little cold, came through the loudspeaker. "I only have three things to say today."