Just because I wrote "Zhu Xian," the school beauty sent me razor blades.

We didn't book a large restaurant for the wrap party.

The producer asked Lin Yuan, who said it was up to him. In the end, they gathered the main cast and crew together at an ordinary Italian restaurant next to the film set, ate, and then parted ways. There were no speeches, no toasts, just a few people sitting around the table eating and chatting, like a project team wrapping up their work.

But Lin Yuan remembered this meal for a long time.

Halfway through his meal, Tim took a small object out of his bag and placed it in front of Lin Yuan.

It was a stone hammer ornament, hand-polished, not large, just the right size to hold in the hand. Lin Yuan recognized it at a glance; it was almost exactly the same as the stone hammer Andy hid in the Bible in the script.

"You made it yourself?"

Tim nodded. "I was working on it during filming, thinking I'd give it to you once it was finished." He took a sip of his drink. "Andy spent twenty years chiseling that wall with a rock hammer. I think you've chiseled something too."

Lin Yuan picked up the stone hammer, examined it briefly, and without saying anything fancy, simply put it in his pocket.

After finishing his meal, Morgan pulled a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket and pushed it towards Lin Yuan. "It's worthless, but you should keep it."

Lin Yuan unfolded it and saw that it was handwritten, with neat handwriting. It contained a monologue that Red never uttered on set. It wasn't in the script; Morgan wrote it himself, explaining how he understood Red and how he spent several months with the character on set. The last sentence was:

"I hadn't had a role that needed me for many years. Red needed me, and that saved me."

Lin Yuan looked up at him, said nothing, and picked up the wine bottle to fill it up for him.

Morgan glanced down at his glass, smiled, and without explaining much, simply said, "During those years when I couldn't get any roles, it's not that I didn't consider giving up. After filming this, I understood."

At the other end of the table, Michael remained silent, finishing his meal and then sitting there drinking. As the party was about to end, he got up, went to his car, retrieved a hard box, and placed it in front of Lin Yuan.

Lin Yuan opened it and found a complete set of original film prints.

"Every shot you wanted is in there," Michael said. "Untouched, uncut, uncompromised. Everything you asked for on set, it's all here."

He paused.

"This is the original version of your story."

Lin Yuan stared at the box of film in silence for a moment, then looked up at Michael.

Michael raised his glass. "Don't mention it. It's an honor to have made a film like this."

The following morning, Castle Rock and Warner Bros. executives met in Warner Bros.' conference room. The only topic was: release strategy.

The other party brought two plans.

The first approach was to roll it out across commercial theaters, focusing on prison breaks, prisons, and dramatic conflict. The posters featured iron gates, bars, and escape, and the slogans emphasized tension and excitement. Warner Bros. said this was the best way to sell the film, as audiences would immediately know what genre it was.

The second approach involves limited screenings in arthouse cinemas, relying on word-of-mouth from film critics to gradually expand the market. This process is lengthy, and initial box office expectations are relatively low.

The publishing director laid out the data for both plans on the table and asked directly, "Lin, what's your opinion?"

After reviewing the data, Lin Yuan closed the file.

"Neither of them is correct."

The person opposite him changed his expression slightly.

"The first impression is a lie," Lin Yuan said. "You tell the audience it's a prison break movie, they go in and watch it, and they'll find it's not. A wrong first impression leads to a bad reputation."

"The second approach is too conservative," he continued. "Arthouse cinemas aren't wrong, but if they only cater to a small circle, they'll forever remain niche films."

Publishing Director: "So what do you mean?"

"Don't tell the audience this is a prison break movie," Lin Yuan said. "Let them discover for themselves that this is a movie about hope."

He paused, then continued to clarify his strategy: "In the North American market, we'll start with art-house cinemas, letting critics write reviews and the first audiences spread the word. In the Asian market, we'll prioritize universities, film communities, and cultural circles, holding small-scale screenings to reach those who still have faith and hope."

"Why these people?" Warner asked.

"Because those who will understand Andy first are those who are also waiting to climb out of poverty themselves," Lin Yuan said. "After reading it, they will tell others. Not because of marketing, but because they genuinely want others to see this story."

The meeting room fell silent for a few seconds.

The producer of Castle Rock looked down and wrote a few lines in his notebook, then looked up and said, "Okay, proceed with the plan in this direction."

Domestically, Fei Zhao is already making progress.

On the same day Lin Yuan sent over the regional promotion plan, Fei Zhao reviewed it, didn't ask about the budget, didn't request any changes, and immediately sent a message back:

"I'll adjust the direction."

The original marketing framework was completely redesigned, and all posters were re-released. No iron bars, no prison uniforms, and no other visual elements related to prisons were used. The main visual consisted of only one thing: a person with outstretched arms in a downpour, and a single sentence.

Hope is a beautiful thing, perhaps the most beautiful thing.

When Lin Yuan first set out this sentence, Fei Zhao asked him, "Just this one sentence?"

"That's enough," Lin Yuan said.

The marketing strategy doesn't mention a young director's foray into Hollywood, doesn't package it as cultural export, and doesn't play the inspirational card. It's simply a humanistic film about freedom, hope, and redemption, meant for the right audience to find.

At the same time, Fei Zhao arranged for a small group of students from university film clubs, literary communities, and film fan organizations to watch the film in advance.

Because Lin Yuan made it very clear to her:

The Shawshank Redemption isn't a movie that grabs your attention at first glance. It needs someone to understand it first, and then share it with more people.

On the evening the publicity meeting ended, Lin Yuan returned to the hotel alone and began packing his luggage.

I didn't have much luggage, just one suitcase, but no matter how I packed it, it still felt messy. The stone hammer figurine was wrapped in a piece of clothing and put inside, the film case was secured in the most stable corner, and Morgan's handwritten note was tucked into my notebook.

I received half of it when my phone vibrated a few times.

Zhou Zixuan: "Dude, when are you coming back? Where's the next chapter of 'Dragon Raja'? I've been waiting forever!"

Qian Zhuangzhuang: "Brother Yuan, could you help me get some Shawshank Redemption merchandise?"

Lin Yuan paused when he saw this.

He glanced down at the ornament in his pocket, then replied to Qian Zhuangzhuang:

"Let me talk about it when I get back."

The last one is about Chen Mo; there's no text, just a photo.

The autumn scenery on campus is beautiful; the sycamore leaves have fallen to the ground, and sunlight filters through the gaps in the trees, creating a tranquil and picturesque scene.

Lin Yuan stared at the photo for a few seconds, put down his phone, and pulled his suitcase.

The plane is tomorrow morning.

He spent almost four months in Hollywood. From the first time he sat in that conference room to packing his bags tonight, everything he went through—competing for actors, finding funding, starting filming, and wrapping up—now seems a bit unreal when he looks back on it.

But the stone hammer is real. The handwritten monologue is real. The film copy without a single scene cut is real.

That movie is real.

Outside the window, the light of Los Angeles at dusk was orange-red and low.

He thought, "It'll be soon."

It's time to go back.