Chapter 411

When Lu Yan He and Chen Siqi arrived in Cannes, the film festival was already more than halfway through.

Due to the film festival, the airport was constantly filled with media filming stars coming and going.

Some left; others arrived.

Every day brought new stars, and these new stars gave the media fresh material to shoot, allowing them to keep earning a living.

When Lu Yan He stepped out, several Asian media outlets immediately recognized him.

"Lu Yan He!"

"Lu Yan He, could you look this way?"

……

Several photographers shouted loudly in English.

Of course, not everyone's English was clear enough to be understood immediately.

Many Western and European journalists, seeing them enthusiastically calling out to a young, handsome boy they didn't recognize, merely took two symbolic photos—just in case they'd missed someone—but in reality, since they didn't know him, they paid him no real attention.

Lu Yan He and Chen Siqi were escorted out, one on each side, by Zou Dong and Wang Biao.

Lu Yan He took off his sunglasses, waved to the media calling his name, graciously let them take photos for a while, then got into the car and left.

"Asian media now basically all know you," Ziyan turned to him and said. "Those reporters just now didn't come because I warned them—they recognized you on their own."

Lu Yan He nodded.

"Is it because 'Six Friends' and 'Seventeen Floors' are doing well on Maxine? Chen Siqi and I traveled around Europe this time and ran into several Europeans who recognized me—they'd seen both shows on Maxine."

Ziyan: "'Phoenix TV' is also very popular in Korea and Japan—our historical costume political dramas still have a sizable market in Asia."

"Alright," Lu Yan He said. "No wonder more and more actors are starting to do streaming dramas—this kind of reach lets global audiences know you."

Streaming now plays the global market.

'Seventeen Floors' has indeed performed very well on Maxine.

This survival thriller genre has audiences worldwide. Fans of this genre don't need the production team to advertise directly to them—they actively search for related films and series on their own.

'Seventeen Floors' itself is of high quality, so it's no surprise it's been well received.

But the show hasn't significantly boosted the actors' careers. Domestically, all the actors gained popularity and traffic from it, but overseas, viewers watch the show without forming any "fan worship" momentum to make any particular character or actor rise to fame.

That requires a certain volume of attention to build momentum—not just a dozen or two dozen fans or admirers can make you popular on foreign social platforms.

Especially for a show like 'Seventeen Floors.' It's the same logic as the well-known film industry saying: "Horror films rarely make actors famous." In genre films, the setting is always the true protagonist, not the actor.

In fact, urban dramas like 'Six Friends' better elevate actors. Lu Yan He is recognized by so many Westerners entirely because of 'Six Friends.'

When Lu Yan He met Wang Zhong and Chen Bige, Wang Zhong's first words were: "Why are you so tanned?"

Lu Yan He said: "I've been outside in the sun these past few days—I got sunburned."

Wang Zhong looked slightly disgusted and said: "You've gotten way too dark."

Lu Yan He was torn between laughter and frustration.

"Has it hurt your looks?"

"It'll affect how audiences recognize you after watching our short film."

"That's exaggerated, Director—I'm not that dark," Lu Yan He immediately denied.

Chen Bige: "It's fine. A little darker makes you look more handsome. Before, you looked like a pale scholar; now you've got a rugged, tough charm."

Lu Yan He immediately lifted his chin proudly. "Director, listen to what Sister Bige says."

Wang Zhong chuckled softly and shook his head.

"Do we have a title for our short film yet?"

"Yes, we're planning to call it 'Night Run.'" Wang Zhong said.

When Lu Yan He heard the title, he paused, then smiled. "That's fitting."

It originates from a scene in Li Kaixian's Ming Dynasty legend 'The Precious Sword Record,' and later became one of the most famous operatic pieces due to the popular saying: "Men fear 'Night Run,' women fear 'Thoughts of the World.'"

It's originally taken from 'Water Margin,' telling the story of Lin Chong fleeing at night—but that has nothing to do with our short film's plot.

But if we ignore its original meaning and just look at the literal meaning of the two characters, it fits our story perfectly.

Our short film is, indeed, a story of a night run.

This time, 'Night Run' was selected for the Short Film Competition Unit, and everyone felt almost no pressure—it was purely a matter of attending the festival with pure joy.

Chen Bige's schedule in Cannes this time was packed.

She had two magazine cover shoots here, plus other brand events.

Lu Yan He had none of these obligations. He could fully enjoy the festival's charm with Chen Siqi. Aside from work related to 'Night Run,' he spent his free time dragging Chen Siqi through the narrow streets of Cannes and various theaters, watching many films.

Chen Siqi said: "Not every film in the Main Competition Unit seems like a great work."

"That's true. The more you understand film festivals, the more you realize that while film quality is one important factor in selecting Main Competition Unit entries, it's never the absolute or decisive one," Lu Yan He said. "But there's always a reason each film was selected. In fact, for a festival, great films aren't only found in the Main Competition Unit—other units produce great works too. Remember 'April Rain'? We loved it, but it wasn't in the Main Competition Unit."

Chen Siqi nodded.

"Even so, we can't help being a bit pragmatic. You're the same—this time you're in the Short Film Competition Unit, so it's nowhere near as solemn as when 'Late Spring' entered the Main Competition Unit at the Venice Film Festival."

Lu Yan He smiled.

Because Chen Siqi was right. It was indeed true.

Pragmatism is inevitable—and real. Lu Yan He said: "I admit it—I need to reflect on myself."

Chen Siqi: "I'm not asking you to reflect. I'm saying it's perfectly normal to have this pragmatic mindset—it's how the festival is structured. The top prize is placed in the Main Competition Unit, and they even added the word 'Main' to it."

Lu Yan He nodded. "True."

On the premiere night of 'Night Run,' quite a few people showed up.

The combination of Wang Zhong, Chen Bige, and Lu Yan He's names still held some appeal for international film media.

Especially since Wang Zhong's previous film, 'Sanshan,' won Best Director at the Situer Film Festival—a prestigious award, as evidenced by how rapidly his status has risen in China's film industry over the past year.

The short film was shot beautifully.

Wang Zhong filmed the entire piece with a profound ancient spirit, evoking a serene, quiet, and harmonious beauty.

Frequent close-ups appear within it—of Chen Bige or Lu Yan He. Both men's facial structures are inherently camera-friendly, suited for the big screen; their facial contours and lines render a unique beauty under Wang Zhong's lens. Especially Chen Bige—when he lifts his eyes and lowers his brows, he radiates a gentleness stripped of all ornamentation.

Lu Yan He sat in the dark screening room, waiting for the short film to end.

The applause erupted thunderously.

Lu Yan He had guessed this short film would be greatly loved by foreign audiences. Because it was deeply rooted in traditional Chinese culture, and filmed with exquisite beauty—every single shot was beautiful.

Chen Bige clapped along with the crowd, then whispered softly into Lu Yan He's ear: "Actually, if the director had turned this into a feature film, it would've been perfect. I've never shot a film with such breathtaking visuals."

Lu Yan He nodded and said: "I feel the same."

Director Wang Zhong received enthusiastic affirmation and applause.

Lu Yan He and Chen Bige stood beside him, watching many foreigners gaze at Wang Zhong with reverence and the fervor of fans toward an idol.

Durshvich, the Artistic Director of the Carolo Film Festival, was also present and personally escorted Wang Zhong, Lu Yan He, and others out.

As they walked, he expressed his fondness for the short film and then asked about Wang Zhong's recently completed film, "Yanzhi Kou."

"Bring this film to Carolo next year," Durshvich volunteered.

After his previous film won the Best Director Award at the Situer Film Festival, Wang Zhong's next project was inevitably under intense scrutiny from the world's four major film festivals; it was nearly certain his new film would receive invitations to the main competitions of all four—he merely had to choose which one.

Wang Zhong smiled and said: "I haven't decided yet how to edit this film."

According to Lu Yan He's view, this film wasn't really an art film. Even though its theme and shooting style resembled an art film, it was fundamentally a more accessible story. It contained no obscure artistic expressions—it told a tale of human emotion and love. Of course, the footage existed; Wang Zhong could certainly edit it toward an art film direction and style, cutting out the direct, less ambiguous moments. But for now, everyone agreed: the film should not head toward greater obscurity.

Therefore, if they intended to proceed this way, Wang Zhong's new film needed careful consideration regarding which festival to premiere at.

Situer was definitely out—the place despises commercial films.

Carolo wasn't much better.

Based on everyone's positioning of "Yanzhi Kou," this film was meant to be one that might not win festival awards but would be deeply loved by audiences.

Because it was audience-friendly, uncomplicated, yet not a mere popcorn movie—it carried a strong authorial voice.

Durshvich again expressed to Lu Yan He and Chen Bige his welcome for them to return often to the Carolo Film Festival.

Lu Yan He nodded with a smile.

"Ye Ben" received excellent reviews from critics and media alike.

This was expected.

It's rare for a major director to make a short film, let alone spend such a high budget on one.

The quality of "Ye Ben" was entirely worthy of a feature film.

Wang Zhong, interviewed by the media and asked why he made such a short film, replied according to the agreed-upon line: "First, to test shots for my recently completed film, 'Yanzhi Kou,' to determine the visual style needed, since the setting is historical and required experimentation. Second, I'd already written this script long ago—it had been sitting in my drawer for years, with no investors willing to fund it. This time, Xin Zixing helped connect me, securing the funding, and Lu Yan He and Chen Bige agreed to support it, so I seized the chance to shoot it."

Many foreign journalists expressed the same sentiment: "Could this short film be expanded into a feature?"

This purely Chinese aesthetic in the shots profoundly shocked the foreign journalists.

It was the weight of thousands of years of cultural aesthetics. Foreign journalists knew little of it, so they were naturally awed by the shifting, illusory imagery and light and shadow.

Film's most direct medium is not the script, but the image. "Ye Ben" pushed its visual beauty to the extreme—the script and characters became mere tools for the evolving imagery.

When asked if "Ye Ben" would become a feature film, Lu Yan He merely smiled and said: "That's up to the director—I don't know."

Still, he thought—if made into a feature, this film might not earn the same acclaim.

It was still Chen Siqi's words.

Though no one admitted it, everyone was still pragmatic—when applied to this situation, everyone held biases.

People would not judge "Ye Ben" by the standards of a feature film.

A short film achieving such a pinnacle of visual aesthetics would be seen as brilliant—no surprise coming from Wang Zhong.

But if a feature film remained like this—with almost no plot, and in truth, just a thin story of unrequited love and separation, speaking of fate and regret—many would pick at it.

After the screening of "Ye Ben" ended, Lu Yan He prepared to return to China.

Though he didn't know whether it would win any awards, even if it did, Wang Zhong would take the stage to accept it—he had no reason to stay longer.

Unexpectedly, someone from the American streaming company HP suddenly contacted him, requesting a meeting.

HP was roughly the same scale as Maxine, but HP's operations focused mainly on Europe and America, unlike Maxine, which had spread widely across the globe, investing in and producing films and series in many countries, producing numerous non-English hits.

HP's major hits were almost exclusively English-language productions from European and American countries, primarily the United States and the United Kingdom; even other European and American works were rare.

Lu Yan He met the man, who was a blond-haired, blue-eyed gentleman in a sharp suit—clearly the archetype of an elite, refined, and courteous demeanor.

"Tang Mu White," he introduced himself to Lu Yan He.

Lu Yan He also smiled and introduced himself: "Lu Yan He."

Tang Mu White's appearance was strikingly handsome—the classic, mature, charismatic, elite image common in films and series.

He said: "I came to the Carolo Film Festival to acquire some excellent films for HP. I happened to see the news that you were here, so I contacted Shang Yongzhou to arrange this meeting."

When Lu Yan He first learned from Shang Yongzhou that someone from HP wanted to meet him, his surprise was understandable.

"I've known Shang Yongzhou for years—I've already seen the rough cut of your film, 'The Road to Glory.' Your performance was no less impressive than his; it left a deep impression on me," Tang Mu White said.

Lu Yan He waved his hand, adopting a humble posture: "Please don't say that."

"I know you're not just an actor—you're also a famous Screenwriter," Tang Mu White said. "You wrote 'Friends.'"

Lu Yan He nodded.

"HP has long wanted to enter the Asian market, but except for China, which blocks our streaming services, nearly every other region has already been dominated by Maxine."