Peninsula: I can steal the luck of disgraced celebrities

Chapter 113 Swarming with Flies

Three days after the barbecue and drinking party, Lim Ji-hoon traveled alone to Gyeonggi Province.

The scenery outside the car window gradually changed from the dense high-rise buildings of Seoul to low-rise factories and vast farmlands. When we arrived at our destination three kilometers away, we could already see the outline of a gray cluster of buildings in the distance.

Merchants in the capital region.

A middle school that has been abandoned for several years.

The walls were covered with dead vines, the iron gate was rusty, and the school name plaque hanging at the entrance was crooked, with only half of it still nailed to the wall.

The plastic track on the playground has long been cracked and peeling, and the track lines have faded so much that they are almost invisible.

The entire school exuded an indescribable sense of desolation, which strangely matched the atmosphere of the school for the deaf and mute in the movie.

The film crew chose this location to build a set. It is said that they repainted several classrooms and made many modifications to the corridors and stairwells. You can't see it from the outside, but you can feel the traces of the set when you walk in.

Lin Chih-hsun paid the taxi fare and immediately sensed something was wrong the moment he opened the car door.

There was a faint, sour smell in the air, like something had been rotting for a long time without being cleaned up.

Several prop vehicles and equipment vehicles were parked crookedly in the parking lot. One of the vans still had yellowish-brown stains on its body, as if something had been splashed on it, leaving unsightly watermarks after it dried.

Three or four staff members in work clothes squatted on the ground, holding brooms and dustpans, silently cleaning up the rotten vegetable leaves and broken eggshells scattered all over the ground.

A young stagehand dumped a full basket of trash into a plastic bag, muttering a curse under his breath. His colleague next to him gave him a wink, signaling him to be quiet.

In the distance, in front of the steps of the teaching building, a middle-aged man wearing a director's vest was standing with his back to us, speaking in a low voice into his phone.

Although it was hard to hear clearly, his stiff shoulders and back and the occasional raised gestures showed that he was clearly trying his best to suppress his anger.

Lin Chih-hsun stood there for a few seconds, observing, before preparing to walk forward.

"Shihoon, you've arrived."

A familiar voice came from behind.

Lin Zhixun turned around and saw Gong Yoo getting out of a black van, carrying two cups of Americano coffee bought from a convenience store.

He wore a simple gray jacket today, without any styling, and his hair was cut very short, revealing his clean and neat forehead.

But the weariness on her face was undeniable. Her eye sockets were slightly sunken, the nasolabial folds at the corners of her mouth seemed deeper than when we last met, she looked thinner, and the contours of her cheekbones were more pronounced than before.

However, when he saw Lin Zhixun, he still managed a smile and handed him one of the cups of coffee.

"Gong Yoo, have you not slept for days?" Lim Ji-hoon took the coffee and looked him up and down.

"Four hours of sleep is enough." Gong Yoo took a sip of coffee, his tone carrying a faint sense of death.

Lin Zhixun ignored the question and instead pointed with his chin at the mess on the ground: "What's going on here?"

Don't mind it, you'll get used to it.

Gong Yoo spoke in a very calm tone, as if he were talking about something perfectly normal.

"It's been like this all month, they come every few days. Last week they were relatively polite, just hanging banners and shouting at the door. This week they've escalated it, they've started throwing things at the equipment."

He led Lin Zhixun into the teaching building.

The corridor walls had been repainted by the art department and decorated with some campus-style posters and notice boards, but a closer look still revealed the mottled old paint underneath. Footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, carrying a hint of indescribable oppression.

"The people who came to cause trouble were from that school in Gwangju, family members of the real-life figure, and some thugs who were related to him."

Gong Yoo explained as he walked.

"They call them family members, but they're actually relatives and stakeholders of the perpetrators. They're afraid that once the movie is released, what happened back then will be brought up again, and no one will be able to escape."

Lin Zhixun paused for a moment.

"Is calling the police useless?"

"It was reported, why wasn't it reported?" Kong Yoo sighed, his tone full of helplessness.

He stopped and leaned against the windowsill in the corridor, his gaze fixed on the gray playground outside.

"The police arrived quickly, their response time was top-notch, but the other side was even faster."

"As soon as the sirens sound, they turn off their loudspeakers, take down their banners, and squat by the roadside smoking, saying they're just stopping by for a rest. You can't arrest people just because a few are squatting by the roadside smoking, can you?"

He gave a wry smile.

"The police had barely left when those people set up their weapons again, they were more punctual than clocking in for work."

"Does the local government not care?" Lin Zhixun asked casually, though he already had a vague idea of ​​the answer.

As expected, Gong Yoo lowered his voice and his expression became serious.

"Zhi Xun, you've read the script for this drama. It directly names the local government and police, saying that they were seriously negligent and covered up the case."

He paused for a moment, looking directly into Lin Zhixun's eyes.

Do you think those politicians would want us to finish filming and release the movie smoothly?

"They would love for us to run out of funding, stop filming, and disband the crew tomorrow."

"In the current situation, everyone above is playing dead. Turning a blind eye is already a favor; not secretly sabotaging us is already a blessing."

The fluorescent light tube at the end of the corridor flickered a few times, emitting a buzzing electrical sound.

Lin Zhixun was silent for a moment, then squeezed the coffee cup in his hand.

He knew the subject matter of the film was sensitive, but seeing it with his own eyes was completely different from just imagining it in his mind.

"Don't think about that anymore," Gong Yoo patted his shoulder, his hand gentle yet firm. "I'll introduce you to everyone. Let's go."

The two turned the corner of the corridor and stopped in front of a classroom.

The nameplate reading "Class 2, Grade 3" still remains on the classroom door, but the inside has been converted into a temporary rest room.

Several desks were pushed together to serve as a worktable, piled high with storyboard manuscripts, script notes, and several half-empty bottles of mineral water.

A clothes rack stood in the corner, with several costumes hanging on it. Only one window was open, letting in a dim and lazy light from outside.

The director who was on the phone outside came in too.

He took the walkie-talkie off his director's vest and placed it on the table, his movements revealing a pent-up frustration.

This person is the director of this movie, Hwang Dong-hyuk.

"Director Hwang, this is the investor I mentioned to you, Lim Ji-hoon." Gong Yoo stood between the two and introduced them one by one. "Ji-hoon is also a very excellent actor, and he will play the role of Jeon Min-soo in the movie."

"Hello, Lim Ji-hoon, I'm Hwang Dong-hyuk."

Hwang Dong-hyuk warmly extended his hand.

His palms were dry and rough, and he gripped them tightly, not like a polite social gesture, but more like a drowning person grabbing a piece of driftwood.

"Thanks to your investment, this movie was able to begin filming —"

He paused for a moment, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Thanks to you and Gong Yoo."

Lin Zhixun sized up the man in front of him.

He was in his early forties, not very tall, slightly overweight, and wore black-rimmed glasses with bloodshot eyes behind the lenses.

The person looked as if they had been crushed by something, but their skeletal structure was still holding up and hadn't collapsed.

Currently, Hwang Dong-hyuk only has one solo film, "My Father," in the Korean film and television industry. He has just barely entered the industry and is still far from becoming a top-tier director.

He is not yet the future director who will helm "The Squid Game," which will sweep global streaming platforms and be featured in Time magazine.

At this moment, he was just a tired middle-aged man with an insufficient budget, harassed by thugs, and sleeping less than five hours a day.

"Director Huang, you're too kind." Lin Zhixun shook hands with him and felt a thin layer of sweat on the other's palm.

Gong Yoo continued to lead him into the classroom.

By the window, a young woman sat quietly in a folding chair, a well-worn script spread out on her lap, a highlighter in her hand, underlining key points word by word.

Hearing footsteps, she looked up.

Jung Yu-mi.

When she saw Lin Zhixun, she simply smiled slightly and nodded as a greeting, then lowered her head to continue reading the script.

She graduated from the Department of Film at Seoul Arts University, a proper academic background.

After her debut, her career progressed smoothly, winning the Baeksang Arts Awards Best New Actress and the Blue Dragon Film Awards Best Supporting Actress.

Lin Zhixun silently went through the list of people he had met that day in his mind.

Besides Gong Yoo, Hwang Dong-hyuk, and Jung Yu-mi, there were a few other faces in the dressing room.

Sitting at the worktable, quietly discussing storyboards with the assistant director, is Jang Gwang, who plays Principal Lee Kang-seok. In the Korean film and television industry, this name is almost synonymous with "golden supporting actor."

In the corner, a taciturn middle-aged man was adjusting the lens assembly of an Arri camera, his movements swift and focused.

That's photographer Kim Ji-yong, nicknamed "Kim the Big Shot" in the Korean film industry.

It wasn't because he had a bad temper, but because every work he photographed had a sense of weight and depth that no one else could imitate.

There's another name, Lin Zhixun, whom I haven't met in person, but Gong Yoo told me that editor Ham Sung-won has also confirmed his participation.

This national treasure-level editing master has edited classic Korean films such as "Christmas in August" and "A Moment to Remember".

Just having his name on the film is enough to elevate the post-production quality of any movie to a whole new level.

Lin Zhixun silently assessed the lineup in his mind.

The director is talented and ambitious, the cast is solid, and the behind-the-scenes technical team is truly luxurious.

Judging solely from the strength of the production team, this movie is practically guaranteed to be a success.

But the problems are also out in the open.

Apart from the money he contributed and the budget squeezed out by Gong Yoo lowering his salary, no major capital firm was willing to touch this project.

Without CJ, without Rakuten, without Showbo, even small and medium-sized publishing companies avoid it like the plague.

This means that even if the film is successfully shot and post-production is completed, it will face huge challenges in terms of screenings and promotion when it reaches the release stage.

No distributors are willing to allocate enough screenings, and no investors are willing to spend money on promotion and distribution. No matter how well a movie is made, if the audience can't see it, it's all for nothing.

Lin Zhixun was aware of these potential problems, but at this moment he could only tell himself to take it one step at a time.

As he was thinking about these things, his gaze inadvertently swept across the corner of the classroom.

There was another person sitting there.

A middle-aged woman, around fifty years old, with a slender figure, wearing a pair of thin-rimmed silver glasses.

She was wearing a dark blue knitted cardigan, her hair was tied in a simple bun at the back of her head, and she sat there quietly with a folder on her lap, looking through some documents.

Unlike the busy or anxious state of others in the classroom.

She was enveloped in a serene aura, like an old tree that never sheds its leaves in late autumn—unassuming, yet deeply rooted.

Lim Ji-hoon didn't recognize her and asked Gong Yoo curiously, "Who is this?"

"Oh, I forgot to introduce you." Gong Yoo quickly led him over, "This is Ms. Xu from the Human Rights Promotion Association."

"Because our film involves a lot of sensitive content, especially the scenes involving children, we had to be very careful in gauging the appropriate level of detail."

"Therefore, the production team specially invited Teacher Xu to provide on-site guidance to ensure that the physical and mental protection of the young actors can be properly handled during the filming process."

Gong Yoo paused for a moment, then added, "At the same time, she will also be responsible for teaching sign language to everyone in the crew."

"There are a lot of sign language scenes in the movie, so you have to learn them in advance."

Teacher Xu put down the documents in her hand, nodded slightly to Lin Zhixun, and a faint smile appeared on her lips as a greeting.

At this moment, Hwang Dong-hyuk, who had been sitting in his chair without saying a word, suddenly slammed the pen in his hand onto the table.

"Sigh."

He slumped back in his chair, wearily raising his hand to rub his temples, the pale light of the fluorescent tube reflected in his glasses.

"Today's efforts were wasted again. The equipment for the outdoor shooting team got splashed with something dirty, and the camera tracks and light stands all have to be taken apart, cleaned, and re-tested."

"This one task alone will take up at least half a day."

He took off his glasses, wiped the lenses with the corner of his shirt, and his voice grew deeper.

"These bastards are like flies."

"You can't drive it away, you can't get rid of it, it just keeps buzzing around you, you can't do any work."

Finally, Hwang Dong-hyuk slammed his fist on the desk that had been pushed together, making several bottles of mineral water shake.

"If this continues, forget about finishing filming on time; the current filming schedule is almost at a standstill! And then the overspending will be—"

He didn't say anything more.

But everyone in the classroom understood what he was implying behind his words.

Filming a movie is a money-burning process every single day.

The equipment rental fee is calculated on a daily basis, and the site usage contract also has a clear term. The salaries, meals, accommodation, and transportation of dozens of staff members are all real money being spent.

Not to mention that if actors' schedules clash, the subsequent coordination costs are astronomical.

Now, with all this commotion every few days, the progress is being delayed again and again, and the already tight budget will only become more and more strained.

Once the money runs out, the fate of this movie is no longer a concern for those who caused trouble.

It will die on its own.

The classroom was quiet for a few seconds.

No one answered; only the faint construction noise from afar and the continuous hum of the fluorescent lights overhead could be heard.

Lin Chih-hsun never expected that his simple desire to make a movie as an experiment would encounter so many obstacles.

And this is only the first day.