Huayu: Starting from retirement, sweeping across the domestic entertainment industry

Chapter 245 Filming Completed

At the Bird's Nest stadium, all the lights are in place.

The ring of lights on the dome was fully illuminated, making the entire venue as bright as day. The lights on the ten computer screens on the stage appeared somewhat dim under the strong light, but the solemnity of the competition venue was even stronger.

Yesterday the audience seats were empty, but now the fans have spread out and taken their seats, and cheers will surge from all directions to the center of the stage like a tide.

Zhang Yimou sat behind the monitor, holding a storyboard. Seeing Li Ran approach, he said, "Let's shoot the victory scene first. Winning the championship is easier than your turn around."

He was referring to the two major scenes that were going to be filmed next.

One scene is a reflection after a loss in a competition—that shot requires Li Ran to look back alone at the empty opponent's seat amidst cheers from the crowd, with such complex emotional layers that Zhang Yimou wrote half a page of performance tips specifically for it.

But for Li Ran, that was his own personal experience.

The other scene was winning the championship and lifting the trophy. The five people rushed onto the podium, and golden rain fell from the sky. The trophy shone brightly under the spotlight—this was the peak of emotion, pure joy and release. In terms of performance difficulty, it was indeed much easier than that lonely look back.

Li Ran nodded: "Okay, Director Zhang."

Zhang Yimou's voice came through the walkie-talkie: "All departments, prepare—"

The clapperboard fell.

All five of them got into the zone at the same time.

Their fingers flew across the keyboard, their mice traced short, precise arcs on the pads, and their eyes were fixed on the screen in front of them.

The League of Legends footage was composited in post-production; at this moment, all they saw was a blue background indicating idle time, but no one found it incongruous.

In the world of professional players, this blue background can become any corner of Summoner's Rift at any time—the river, the jungle, the dragon pit, the high ground—every pixel is etched in their minds.

"Three, two,

Zhang Yimou counted down on the walkie-talkie, "Victory scene, cut."

The word "Victory" appeared on the screen.

Wang Junkai, who plays the top laner, is the first to jump up from his seat.

The way he flew off the gaming chair wasn't just "standing," it was like he exploded out of the chair, the wheels sliding a long way across the floor before finally stopping after hitting the back panel.

His face wore a completely out-of-control smile, his eyes were wide open, and his lips were trembling—not from nervousness, but because so many things had found an outlet in that instant.

Zhang Linghe, who plays the mid-laner, jumps up from his chair and hugs Li Ran next to him. He then turns around to hug the support, holding him tightly as if he were clutching a lifeline.

His eyes were red, but no tears fell; they just welled up, glistening.

After releasing the support, he turned and rushed towards the podium—his steps were so big and hurried that he almost tripped over his own feet. His mind was filled with nothing but the silver Summoner's Cup, and he completely forgot about the post-match fist bump.

Fortunately, Li Ran reached out a hand from the side, grabbed his arm, and pulled him back.

When Zhang Linghe was grabbed, he still had a blank look on his face, as if asking "Who pulled me?" He turned his head and saw Li Ran winking at him. He then realized what was happening, slapped his forehead, and quickly ran back to bump fists with his opponents one by one.

This little detail wasn't in the script, but Zhang Yimou didn't call "cut" from behind the monitor because it was so realistic—real enough that any viewer who had ever watched an e-sports competition would smile knowingly.

Zhai Xiaowen, who plays the AD carry, recreated the classic scene when Ah Shui won the championship in real life. He walked to the podium, grasped the sides of the Summoner's Cup with both hands, took a deep breath, and suddenly exerted force to lift the trophy onto his shoulder.

The silver trophy shone brightly under the lights. He carried it a couple of steps, raised his chin toward the audience, and said with an expression that seemed to say, "See that? This is mine."

The photographers on the sidelines jogged along with their equipment to film the scene. This shot was specially designed by Zhang Yimou, and the meaning of the tribute is self-evident.

The five people huddled together, surrounding the trophy, each with their hand on it, none of them willing to let go first.

No one shouted slogans, no one spoke lines, but the image was more powerful than any words.

Golden rain fell from the sky, confetti fluttering under the lights, landing on their hair, shoulders, and trophies, turning the entire stage into a sea of ​​golden confetti.

"Cut!" Zhang Yimou stood up from behind the monitor, clapped twice towards the stage, his face showing a rare, unreserved satisfaction. "One take! This one is excellent, the emotion is perfect, no need for a second take."

The filming of the championship went very smoothly.

Next came the most difficult part.

After the victory scene was filmed in one take, the stagehands came to clean up the gold confetti on the stage, and the lighting crew readjusted the lights.

The bright dome lights were turned off one by one, leaving only a few cool-toned spotlights shining obliquely on the stage from different angles, cutting the light areas into geometric shapes of light and shadow.

The air pressure in the entire Bird's Nest seemed to darken, the explosive joy of winning the championship was gone, replaced by a heavy silence.

Zhang Yimou stood up from his director's chair, and instead of taking a walkie-talkie, he walked over to Li Ran himself.

He glanced at the contestants' seats on the stage, illuminated by cold lights, then at Li Ran, his voice lower than usual.

Du, speaking a beat slower: "The scene of the next defeat."

Li Ran didn't speak, he just nodded.

"I won't give you too many hints," Zhang Yimou patted his shoulder, a little harder than usual. "This is your own story, you know better than me how to act it. I only have one request: when you look back, there must be something in your eyes."

Li Ran walked to the center of the stage and sat down on the chair with his character's ID on it.

The stylist came up and messed up his hair a little, the makeup artist applied a very thin layer of setting powder, and then lightly swept a little red around his eyes with a brush. It wasn't the red of crying, but the kind of red that comes from trying not to cry, but whose eyes are already starting to well up with tears.

"All departments in position," the assistant director's voice was muffled over the walkie-talkie.

"Action".

The clapperboard fell.

The stage lights came on, but not with the golden light of the previous victory; instead, they were a cool white light, so bright it was almost blinding.

The word "Victory" popped up on the curved screen, signifying the opponent's victory.

The stadium erupted in thunderous cheers, a live recording of the 2017 Bird's Nest finals, played through the sound system.

The voices of more than 20,000 people exploded at the same time, and the sound waves pushed over in layers, almost making people's chests feel stuffy.

One by one, the four teammates sitting next to Li Ran took off their headphones.

The top laner's lips were pressed into a thin line as he stared down at a non-existent point on the keyboard, his fingers still resting on the keys, as if his body was waiting for an impossible comeback signal.

The mid-laner buried his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling slightly.

The bot lane duo slumped back in their chairs, staring at the ceiling with red eyes as if they'd just been punched.

Li Ran did not move.

He sat in the chair with his back straight, his hands still in the same position as during the game—his left hand resting on the keyboard and his right hand holding the mouse.

The word "failure" on the screen was projected onto his face, appearing as two small, grayish-white dots in his pupils.

Cheers erupted from all directions, but not for him.

As the golden rain drifted down from the dome and landed on his shoulder, he merely glanced down at the fragments, as if he didn't recognize them at all.

Then he took off his headphones.

The earmuffs slid off my ears and hung around my neck. The moment the sound-absorbing foam let in the outside sounds, cheers crashed in like a wall.

He closed his eyes briefly, his eyelashes trembling.

The teammates stood up one after another.

The top laner turned around and took two steps back to the backstage area. He glanced back at him, opened his mouth, but said nothing.

The mid laner patted his shoulder lightly, as if afraid of crushing him.

Li Ran did not respond; he didn't even turn around to look at his teammate's back.

He simply released the mouse slowly, took his right hand off the mouse, and placed it on his knee.

He stood up.

The moment he stood up, his body swayed—not because his legs were weak, but because of the brief disconnect between his body and consciousness that occurred after being forcibly pulled from a state of extreme concentration.

He steadied himself by gripping the edge of the table, his knuckles bracing against the cold metal frame.

Then he turned around and walked off the stage with his teammates.

This stage no longer belongs to them, but to the winner of this best-of-five series.

He followed his teammates outside, and amidst the cheers that didn't belong to him, he suddenly turned around and glanced behind him.

Behind him was the other end of the stage.

There was a row of computers, with the word "Victory" flashing on the screens. There were five empty chairs, the backs of which were still swaying slightly after people had rushed up to hug, cheer, and pat them.

His opponents were already huddled together on the other side of the stage, and as the trophy was raised, another wave of golden rain exploded from the dome.

On this side, on his side, were five lonely figures silhouetted against the distance.

He turned back and gazed at the glory that did not belong to him.

Everything around him was clamorous—cheers, music, golden rain, the commentator's high-pitched shouts that cracked—but he stood in the very center of that vortex of sound, as quiet as someone whose mute button had been pressed.

His eyes were red, but no tears fell.

The things in those eyes were too complex; it wasn't just sadness or resentment, but something deeper and more profound.

It's the emptiness of being just one step away from the top of the world but finding that you can't take that step; it's the bewilderment after a whole year of training, reviewing, self-doubt, and rebuilding has all been emptied in an instant.

He knew he would be back next year, knew his career wasn't over yet, but at this moment, standing here, on the Bird's Nest, the stage he had always dreamed of, the fact that the rain wasn't falling for him was enough to make a person's chest tighten and leave them speechless.

The time spent looking back was short, only a few seconds.

But Zhang Yimou behind the monitor didn't call "cut," and the camera crew didn't stop filming. Everyone just watched quietly as Li Ran stood at the intersection of cold light and golden rain, and with a quiet turn of his head, he etched the common desire for victory and the inability to let go of defeat shared by all athletes of that era onto the film.

The sound engineer at the scene turned off the cheers.

The bird's nest suddenly fell silent.

There were no cheers, no music, and no soft rustling sound of golden rain falling to the ground.

The beams of cold light from the dome shone on him, casting a long, lonely shadow on the stage.

He took one last look at the lights, turned around, and walked backstage.

"Card."

Zhang Yimou stood up from behind the monitor, without applauding or saying "one take."

He simply glanced at Li Ran quietly, then turned to the assistant director and said something in a low voice, but it was heard through the microphone next to him.

"I saw it very clearly in his eyes on the monitor just now."

The assistant director asked, "What is it?"

Zhang Yimou remained silent for two seconds before speaking.

"Hisself 17 years ago."

Off-screen audio input—not commentary, but a somber post-match interview recording that will be superimposed on the screen—from November 4, 2017.

"You debuted in your first year and stood on the final stage, just one step away from the championship—how ​​do you feel right now?"

There was a two-second silence.

"Opportunity favors the prepared mind, and this time I failed to seize it."

"next time----"

"Maybe—I'm still not strong enough—"

Filming for "Glory" has officially wrapped up.

When Zhang Yimou yelled "Cut!", the entire crew was silent for three seconds before someone started clapping.

Filming began in late autumn and wrapped up in late winter, spanning three cities and involving thousands of extras. This TV series, with e-sports as its shell and life as its core, has finally been completed.

That evening, the film crew booked the entire banquet hall of a hotel in the China World Trade Center and held a grand celebration banquet.

When Li Ran and Zhou Ye arrived, the banquet hall was already packed with people.

The tables near the entrance were occupied by representatives from the production and distribution companies, dressed in suits and ties, conversing quietly while holding wine glasses.

Further inside are the brothers and sisters from various departments of the film crew. The camera crew members were unusually not carrying equipment today, and they were sitting there in casual clothes, making them almost unrecognizable.

Further inside, the large round tables occupied by the main creative team were almost full.

Zhang Yimou sat in the center of the main table, wearing a dark-colored Chinese-style stand-up collar jacket, looking very energetic. He was chatting and laughing with the director of photography next to him.

He saw Li Ran walk in and waved from a distance, his voice even louder than when he used a walkie-talkie on set: "Li Ran! Come on, come on, sit here."

Li Ran led Zhou Ye over and sat down in an empty seat at the main table.

He glanced at the people at the table—the producer, the head of the screenwriting team, the director of photography, the art director, and several lead actors.

Zhou Ye sat down next to Li Ran. Tonight, she was wearing a dark blue velvet dress, which looked more formal than usual.

After she sat down, she habitually moved her chair half an inch closer to Li Ran.

When almost everyone had arrived, Zhang Yimou stood up, holding a wine glass.

The people at the main table were the first to fall silent, and then the surrounding tables fell silent in ripples. Zhang Yimou cleared his throat, and without taking a microphone, he spoke with a strong and clear voice.

"The reason we've gathered everyone here today is for one thing—"

'

He raised his glass, glanced around at the densely packed faces in the banquet hall, and said with a relaxed and satisfied tone, as if he had just finished filming: "Glory, filming is wrapped."