Entertainment: You're asked to make a healing animation, but it will make the whole internet de

The atmosphere in the chairman's office on the top floor of the Galaxy Pictures headquarters building was icy.

Wang Zhongjun stared intently at the large screen in front of him.

On the screen, the buzz surrounding Su Bai's new work stung his eyes.

"Useless! They're all useless!"

He slammed his foot on the desk, making a dull thud.

"Tens of millions spent on marketing and promotion, and you bunch of pigs! Not only did you fail to crush the other side, you actually elevated them to a godlike status?"

"Everyone online is talking about No-Face right now. Are you trying to make me a stepping stone for Su Bai?!"

The PR director stood to the side, his head buried so low it almost touched his chest, his back soaked in cold sweat.

"Chairman Wang, we didn't expect that a character without even a face could resonate so much. This doesn't conform to market rules."

"law?"

Wang Zhongjun felt like he had heard the biggest joke in the world. He grabbed the crystal ornament on the table and smashed it on the ground!

The crystal shattered into pieces, much like Wang Zhongjun's current state of mind.

"Su Bai is creating market rules right now! And you will only be eliminated by those market rules!"

He irritably loosened his tie, a surge of pent-up anger rising in his chest.

This fire started burning the moment he saw Su Baifa's first Weibo post, and it burned so intensely that it hurt his internal organs.

He needed an outlet.

"Get out! All of you, get out!"

After driving everyone away, Wang Zhongjun returned to his luxurious villa in the suburbs, filled with resentment.

As soon as he entered, he was ready to cause trouble.

His son, Wang Zhe, was going through a rebellious phase.

At this time of day, I'm usually either blasting music with my buddies or playing video games in my room.

The sound was so loud that the whole building could hear it.

Today was just the right day; I walked right into his line of fire.

However, strangely, the villa was completely silent.

Wang Zhongjun frowned and quietly walked up to the second floor.

The son's bedroom door was ajar, and no sound came out.

Has this kid changed his ways?

Wang Zhongjun felt a growing suspicion.

He suddenly pushed the door open.

The expected chaotic scene filled with smoke did not materialize.

His arrogant and domineering son was in the room.

He was curled up in his gaming chair, his shoulders twitching, staring intently at the computer screen in front of him.

Wang Zhongjun's gaze followed that direction.

A video is playing on the screen.

Night rain, Red Bridge, a dark figure wearing a white mask stands alone.

It's No-Face!

It's that persistent ghost again!

The anger in Wang Zhongjun's heart suddenly surged to the top of his head!

He was driven crazy by Su Bai outside, but when he got home, his own son was actually crying over the opponent's trash animation.

"Wang Zhe!"

His roar startled Wang Zhe, making him tremble all over.

Wang Zhe turned around abruptly, tears still streaming down his face.

Upon seeing that it was his father, the sadness in his eyes was quickly replaced by a layer of cold disgust, and he hurriedly tried to turn off the video.

"What are you looking at, something so shameful!"

Wang Zhongjun stepped forward, roughly snatched the mouse, and pressed the pause button.

"A crappy cartoon, an androgynous monster, and you're crying over it? Have you no self-respect at all?!"

Wang Zhe suddenly stood up, his bloodshot eyes staring intently at him, his chest heaving violently.

"What do you know?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a chilling undertone.

"What do I know?"

Wang Zhongjun was so angry he laughed, pointing to his own nose.

"I, Wang Zhongjun, have risen from director to now controlling half of China's cinema chains! You think I don't understand? Let me tell you, this is exactly the kind of trick Su Bai uses to fool ignorant kids like you! Pretending to be profound, selling anxiety!"

"He isn't!"

Wang Zhe's voice suddenly rose, like an enraged lion cub.

"Su Bai understands loneliness, he understands the pain of not being understood! He understands why No-Face gave the gold to Chihiro! He understands us!"

He stretched out his finger, which trembled as he pointed at Wang Zhongjun.

"And you? What do you know? Besides money, your stocks, and your rates of return, what else do you know?!"

"I'm buying you the latest sports car, giving you unlimited credit cards—aren't I giving you money?"

Wang Zhongjun was furious.

"That's not what I want!"

Wang Zhe roared hysterically.

"Just like Chihiro didn't want No-Face's gold! What you're giving me is only what you think I want! You don't care about me at all!"

The argument between father and son echoed in the empty room.

Wang Zhongjun's head was spinning from his son's yelling.

He has always been the one to reprimand others; he has never been so directly confronted like this.

Just as he was consumed by rage and about to slap him...

Out of the corner of his eye, he inadvertently glanced at the playlist that his son had bumped open.

The PV was now coming to an end.

A train traveling on the water appears on the screen.

Outside the window is an endless, deep blue sea, with a few blurry figures moving up and down the platform in the distance.

Inside the carriage, the girl and the dark figure sat side by side, as quiet as a painting.

In that instant, an extreme sense of loneliness and beauty unexpectedly entered Wang Zhongjun's eyes.

This is not a video built on special effects, but a kind of power from art itself that he hasn't felt for many years.

His raised hand froze in mid-air.

Wang Zhe saw his father momentarily lost in thought, and he gave a cold laugh, a laugh filled with disappointment.

"Look, you don't understand art at all. You've been blinded by the stench of money!"

"Su Bai, he's the true artist! You, you're just a businessman!"

After saying that, Wang Zhe pushed him away, rushed out of the room, and slammed the door shut.

"Bang!"

The loud slam of the door shut struck Wang Zhongjun's heart like a heavy hammer.

He stood alone in the middle of the room, the words his son had said echoing in his ears.

He, Wang Zhongjun, is a director who has directed films that have topped the box office.

Now, he's being told by his own son that he doesn't understand art?

Absurd! Ridiculous!

But why?

When he saw the footage of the train at sea, his heart skipped a beat.

Late at night, in the study.

Wang Zhongjun sat alone in the dark, with no lights on, only the red glow of his cigar flickering.

His mind was in turmoil, alternating between his son's roar and that beautiful image.

for a long time.

As if possessed, he inexplicably turned on his computer and, with trembling hands, typed two words into the search box.

Su Bai.

Looking at the screen full of reports praising Su Bai, he leaned back in his chair, finished the last puff of his cigar, and let the smoke envelop his face.

He muttered to himself, his voice hoarse.

"Is this person really that amazing?"