We asked you to make an anti-corruption film, but you made one in the name of the people!

The clapperboard fell.

Lei Jiayin stood up.

He walked to the podium, stood still, and rested his hands on the edge of the table, remaining silent for a long while—not because he forgot his words, but because he was waiting for that energy to surge up from the soles of his feet.

Lin Mo remained behind the monitor, without urging him.

The entire conference room was so quiet that only the hum of the fluorescent light tube ballast could be heard.

In the gallery, those who had worn prosecutor's uniforms for over a decade all had their eyes fixed on Lei Jiayin.

It wasn't an act of focus; they were genuinely waiting—waiting for this person to speak out what they had kept bottled up for countless years.

Lei Jiayin spoke.

……

Lin Mo did not call a halt.

He waited for Lei Jiayin to finish speaking the last word, for his voice to fade in the conference room, and for that silence to last a full five seconds—before picking up the walkie-talkie.

"Click."

He stood up.

"Article 20 is finished."

There was a moment of silence in the conference room.

Then applause erupted, starting from the very front row of the audience and spreading outwards in waves.

The prosecutors from Yongcheng County Procuratorate clapped until their hands were red, stood up to applaud, and took off their glasses to wipe their eyes—it wasn't acting, it was real.

Chief Prosecutor Zhang Guoqing was the first to stand up from the hearing seat.

He was in his fifties, with gray hair, and had spent most of his life working at a grassroots procuratorate.

He walked up to Lin Mo, extended his hand, and Lin Mo took it.

"Director Lin," Zhang Guoqing's voice was a little hoarse, "I've worked in the procuratorate for nearly thirty years, and I've held at least eighty or a hundred hearings. But—" He glanced back at the podium, "there has never been a single hearing that sent chills down my spine."

"Prosecutor Zhang, that's because Lei Jiayin acted so well."

"It wasn't an act." Zhang Guoqing shook his head. "What he said is exactly what we tell ourselves every day: the law cannot yield to illegality—I'm going to frame that sentence and hang it in the conference room when I get back."

The deputy chief prosecutor also came over. He was in his early forties, wore glasses, and spoke in a refined manner: "Director Lin, after filming this scene today, several young prosecutors in our office told me—I used to think that self-defense was just a legal provision, but now I realize that it involves real human lives."

Lin Mo nodded.

At this moment, Lei Jiayin stepped down from the podium.

His eyes were still red, and the back of his shirt was soaked with sweat—not from the heat, but because the scene had completely drained him.

Ma Li was the first to rush over and shove the thermos into his hand: "Drink water! Drink water now! Your lips are all white!"

Lei Jiayin took a swig and then turned to look at Lin Mo.

"Director Lin." His voice was a little hoarse. "I've been acting for over ten years, and this is the first time—my legs went weak after filming."

Lin Mo smiled and patted him on the shoulder after hearing this.

Zhao Liying walked over from the audience. She wasn't filming today and was dressed casually—a beige sweater with her hair down.

But her eyes are still red; they started turning red when Lei Jiayin was halfway through her speech and have remained red ever since.

"Brother Lei." She stood in front of Lei Jiayin. "When you mentioned Hao Xiuping just now—I was sitting down and almost stood up."

Lei Jiayin looked at her: "Why did you almost stand up?"

I want to tell you—my jump wasn't in vain.

There was a moment of silence.

Ma Li quickly interrupted, "Hey Liying, what are you saying! Your character didn't die! -- No, I mean, Hao Xiuping jumping down was required by the script, but your acting made me feel like she really jumped!"

Zhao Liying burst into laughter after hearing what she said.

Gao Ye walked over from the side, wearing her dark blue prosecutor's uniform, her makeup ruined—she had cried more than once while sitting in the gallery.

She first gave Lei Jiayin a high five, then turned to Zhao Liying: "Liying, I've been thinking about something while I was sitting down here—if Hao Xiuping could talk, what would be the first thing she would say?"

Zhao Liying thought for a moment and said, "Thank you."

"Yes." Gao Ye nodded. "It's about thanking them. Not thanking Han Ming, nor thanking Lü Lingling, but thanking this system—finally someone spoke up for her."

Fan Wei walked from the corner to the front at some point. He was holding a thermos cup and stood next to the podium, looking it up and down at the ordinary wooden podium.

"Director Lin," he said.

"Teacher Fan, please speak."

"I've been in this industry for so many years." Fan Wei turned around and looked at Lin Mo. "I've seen all kinds of films. Some films are finished with applause, and that's it. Some films are finished with no one saying a word—not because they're bad, but because they're too good, so good that everyone is wondering what just happened. Your film is the latter."

He paused, then pointed to the podium: "That podium—it's not some grand prop, just a piece of wood, but when Lei Jiayin stood there just now, that piece of wood transformed into a courtroom, into a hearing, into the desks of over ten thousand grassroots prosecutors. It can turn a prop into a belief..."

Lin Mo didn't feign modesty or respond. He looked at Fan Wei and said earnestly, "Teacher Fan, thank you for coming."

Fan waved his hand: "Don't thank me, I just came to audition for a bit, and I succeeded."

Zhang Yi and Xu Yajun stood side by side in the last row of the audience. Neither of them liked to talk, and they had watched the entire performance without uttering a sound.

Xu Yajun spoke first: "Director Lin, I've noticed you have a habit."

"What habits?"

"In every film you make, the last scene is a grand spectacle—not in terms of scale, but in terms of intensity." Xu Yajun paused, "You save the most ruthless element for last, leaving everyone who watches it unable to shake it off."

Zhang Yi chimed in from the side, "You only start thinking about it if you can't get over it."

Aruna squeezed through the crowd. His filming had already wrapped up, but he still came, wearing a black hoodie, and stood at the back of the crowd, watching from beginning to end.

He walked up to Lin Mo, scratched his head, and said, "Director Lin, I was watching Brother Lei act downstairs just now, and something suddenly occurred to me."

"What is it?"

"When I used to play villains, I always thought about how to make them bad in a way that made sense. But after watching Brother Lei's performance today, I realized that villains don't need reasons, only good people do. Why do good people persist? Why don't they give up? Why do they keep moving forward even when their hair is white and their hands are trembling? These things are harder to portray than the motivations of any villain."

Lei Jiayin, who was nearby, heard this and came over to pat Aruna on the shoulder: "Brother, you can play a good guy in your next movie."

Aruna's eyes lit up: "Really?"

"Really." Lei Jiayin pointed at Lin Mo, "Let Director Lin write it for you."

Aruna turned to look at Lin Mo, who said expressionlessly, "In the next movie, you'll still be the bad guy."

The whole studio burst into laughter.

Aru's face fell: "Director Lin! I've already played two villains!"

"The audience will believe you when you play a villain."

"So if I play a good guy, the audience won't believe me?"

"right."