Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 188 Seals and Arrogance: The Bottom Line Crushing by the Five Major Cinema Chains

Zhou Ming's words echoed back and forth in the empty workshop, carrying a capitalist air that seemed to want to crush people.

The five major cinema chains control the vast majority of film screenings in China, and their money and connections have long since extended into other industries.

Li Jianguo's decision to block people at this time was clearly not a spur-of-the-moment decision; someone in the management of Shougang Group had already given his approval.

For a large state-owned enterprise stuck at the threshold of restructuring, closing down a long-abandoned corner workshop is not even a problem; it's just a favor they're doing for others.

Zhou Ming raised his hand.

Several uniformed security personnel walked forward carrying seals and chains, their footsteps making a series of soft sounds as they stepped on the oil stains.

They started to drive people away, and several old workers on night watch were forced to retreat before they could even put down their work.

Someone stared at the bolt they had just tightened, their lips trembled slightly, and finally they slowly put the tool back on the table.

Wang Yuanchao's neck immediately turned red.

He rushed toward a security guard who was putting a seal on a distribution box, but before his hand could even touch the box door, two young security guards pounced on him from both sides and pinned him against the wall.

The brick wall was so cold it was piercing; when the old engineer pressed his face against it, even his stubble trembled.

His hands were tied behind his back, his shoulder bones were creaking, and he was breathing heavily. He struggled several times, but his back was bent over from the pressure.

Zhou Ming walked to his side, glanced down at him, his shoe tip avoiding the oil stains on the ground, and his tone was so disgusted that he didn't even bother to hide it.

Old Wang, you need to see this clearly.

That era has passed.

You obsolete industrial scraps should just stay obediently in the garbage dump.

You want to make extra money by making movie props with them? Go ask the leaders of Shougang Group if they'll agree.

Zhang Yuan, listening from behind, felt his teeth clench.

He cursed, rolled up his sleeves, and took a step forward.

Chen Yan's voice came from behind.

Zhang Yuan.

Just those two words, like the back of a knife striking iron, forcefully held a person in place.

Zhang Yuan turned around, his face flushed red, his chest heaving violently.

Director Chen, they've gone too far.

Step down.

Chen Yan only replied with this one sentence, the last syllable of which was flat and without any inflection.

Zhang Yuan swallowed his anger, but eventually retreated to his side, his fists clenched until they turned white, his knuckles twitching.

Chen Yan stood motionless in front of the iron table.

The sight of Wang Yuanchao being pinned against the wall suddenly came into his view.

The old engineer has been guarding this factory for most of his life. He has seen the hottest times of the Third Front construction and the brightest years of the Republic's heavy industry.

Now, however, he is being pinned against the wall of the workshop where he has spent forty years by a few people who run errands for capital.

That ingrained institutional inertia ultimately suppressed his resistance.

He stopped struggling.

Old Liu sighed and waved to the security guard.

After the person loosened their grip, Wang Yuanchao slid down the wall to the ground, his knee hitting the cement floor with a dull thud.

He slowly got up, brushed the dust off his body, rubbed the back of his hand on his trouser leg a couple of times, turned around to collect his welding torch cable, and put several commonly used wrenches one by one into the rusty toolbox.

The movements were slow, as if they were giving the workshop a final tidying up.

Zhou Ming looked at him, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

He turned to face Chen Yan, his heels clicking crisply on the ground.

Director Chen, look, this is reality.

He pointed to the dilapidated machines around him, his words full of condescending condescension.

You have a few blueprints and you think you can make a heavy industry movie?

Han, the general manager of China Film Group, is protecting you and has given you the approval, but the movie still has to be built brick by brick.

Without factories manufacturing for you and skilled workers doing the work for you, your "The Wandering Earth" is just a joke.

Zhou Ming took a step forward, lowered his voice, and his words were full of naked threat.

Director Zhang's "A Better Tomorrow" has started filming.

Mr. Li said that as long as you give up the science fiction project now and honestly go back to making art films, the five major cinema chains will still leave you a way out.

For your next film, I guarantee you 10% of the screenings.

This is the bottom line, and also a blessing.

Chen Yan looked at him but did not accept the charity.

The workshop lights hummed softly overhead, their light falling on his face, yet revealing not a single extra expression.

Ten percent of the screenings.

He slowly repeated those words, his tone flat, as if he were weighing a worthless piece of copper.

Correct.

One should know how to be content.

Zhou Ming thought he had loosened his grip, and his shoulders and back relaxed a bit.

Director Chen, now that's more like a smart person.

Chen Yan put his hands in his suit trouser pockets, his gaze passing over him and landing on the dark night outside the workshop door.

Go back and tell Li Jianguo.

In my eyes, the martial arts film he spent 200 million to produce is not even as good as the foot binding cloth of the old era.

Zhou Ming's face immediately darkened.

Chen Yan turned his gaze back and stared directly at the other person.

He wanted to cut off my supply chain, thinking that by bribing a few managers at Shougang, he could strangle me.

When Chen Yan spoke, each word was distinct and carried a chilling force that penetrated to the bone.

But he had no idea what a "dimensional reduction attack" meant.

He's still using the same old tactics as contractors who grab territory.

Zhou Ming scoffed and pointed to the doorway with his finger.

The seals are all on; think carefully about how you're going to get out of here today.

The gate was locked.

The security personnel immediately got to work, wrapping a thick iron chain around the workshop door and locking it with a brass lock. The clanging of metal echoed clearly in the empty room.

Two seals, stamped with the factory's official red seal, were crossed and pasted in the center of the door, their red color glaringly obvious.

Zhou Ming led his men out, their footsteps fading into the distance. Three black Audis followed, their tires crunching through the puddles, kicking up a spray of murky water.

The workshop fell silent immediately.

In the corner, there was still a piece of equipment that hadn't been completely powered off, its low hum trailing off, sounding particularly faint in the empty space.

Wang Yuanchao carried the old toolbox and walked up to Chen Yan. His back was hunched over so badly that he looked like he had been shortened.

I'm sorry, Director Chen.

His voice was so hoarse that when he spoke, it sounded like sandpaper scraping against sheet metal.

I can't take this job.

You should leave quickly too, go out through the back door.

He walked past Chen Yan, preparing to leave the workshop he had guarded for most of his life.

Chief Engineer Chen.

Chen Yan turned around and called out to him.

Wang Yuanchao stopped, his shoulders tense, but he didn't turn around.

Are you willing to accept this?

Wang Yuanchao's Adam's apple bobbed, and after a long while, he let out a bitter laugh.

Willing to accept it.

I am sixty years old.

He raised his hand, pointed to the factory building, and his fingertip trembled slightly in mid-air.

I worked in this factory for forty years.

During the wave of layoffs in 1998, I personally witnessed dozens of senior technicians I had trained pack up and leave.

Some went to the market to sell meat, while others went to the street to repair bicycles.

I'm keeping this dilapidated workshop here just to preserve a memory.

Now that hope is gone, what can I do even if I'm unwilling to accept it?

Chen Yan paused for half a second before speaking.

If I could help you find them all.

Wang Yuanchao suddenly turned around.

He looked at Chen Yan as if he were looking at someone who hadn't woken up yet.

get back.

What can we use to find it?

The factories have all been shut down.

He raised his hand and pointed to the two seals on the door, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.

You can't even get out of this door.

Chen Yan didn't reply, but turned his head to look at Su Wan, who was standing to the side.

Out of the box.

Su Wan immediately placed the black combination lock box on the iron table, her movements swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

After two soft clicks, the latch popped open, and the lid was lifted.

There were no bundles of cash inside, only three transparent document bags, neatly arranged.

The dim yellow light in the workshop cast a faint white glow on the edges of the file folders.

Wang Yuanchao's gaze was involuntarily drawn to it.

He didn't know what other tricks this young man had up his sleeve, what he could use to pry open a gap in this deadly situation.

Chen Yan pulled out the first document from the top.

It was a red-headed document stamped with three official red seals bearing the highest-level national seals.