Samuel Reed seemed to be talking to himself, yet also as if addressing the three others.

“Movies, huh, they’re really something—and yet, damn it, they’re nothing at all.” He asked, “Mr. Morgan, have you seen ‘Winter and Spring Days’?”

“I watched it abroad. At the time, I was amazed that a mainland director could make such a film. Especially the black-and-white cinematography—it’s truly a great movie!” Richard Morgan praised sincerely.

Samuel Reed gave a bitter smile. “But its director got banned just because of this film!”

“Really?! Why?” Richard Morgan was genuinely surprised, even blurting out in English.

“Just because, damn it... uh...”

He hadn’t finished when Steven Grant covered his mouth. “It’s nothing, it’s nothing, he’s just drunk!”

A few years ago, director Zhang Yuan, together with Cui Jian, co-produced “Beijing Bastards” and sent it to the Tokyo Film Festival without official approval. There, they encountered another “official” delegation from China, who threatened to withdraw from the festival if Tokyo didn’t reject Zhang Yuan. In the end, they didn’t succeed.

The following year at the Rotterdam Film Festival, the two sides crossed paths again, and the same tragedy repeated itself.

This became the fuse for the whole incident.

After that crew, furious and humiliated, went home, they sought help from higher-ups. As a result, the authorities issued a document banning the directors of seven films: “The Blue Kite,” “Beijing Bastards,” “Drifting Beijing,” “I Graduated,” “Shutdown,” “Winter and Spring Days,” and “Suspended Love.”

The reason was that they had submitted their films to foreign festivals without official review—this is the famous “Seven Gentlemen Incident” of the Sixth Generation.

Wait, isn’t there a strange Fifth Generation director mixed in there?

“The day we went to rent equipment, we saw this document posted on the office wall. Everyone felt pretty bad about it,” Steven Grant explained.

“Sigh!”

Richard Morgan understood the situation to some extent, knowing it was due to the larger environment, and that individual power was negligible. He could only sigh.

Andrew Clark had no idea what was going on. He looked left and right, only feeling that whatever they were talking about sounded pretty impressive.

A bottle of baijiu can be half a kilo; Samuel Reed couldn’t hold his liquor, and after a little over two liang, he was already done for. Steven Grant let him lean on the bed and poured him a cup of hot water to help him recover.

Most of the rest was drunk by Steven Grant, Andrew Clark sipped along, and Richard Morgan ended up just munching on peanuts.

The three continued chatting, leaving the unpleasant topics behind and turning to happier ones, talking about the upcoming shoot.

Tomorrow they’d be filming the female lead’s scenes. Andrew Clark was a bit excited too—it was his first time acting opposite a girl, and he wondered what it would feel like.

They ate and drank from a little after eight until past eleven. Old Reed had sobered up and felt a bit embarrassed about his earlier outburst.

Since they had work the next day, the oldest, Richard Morgan, suggested they call it a night.

Steven Grant helped the still-wobbly Samuel Reed back to his room, Andrew Clark tidied up the mess, and flopped onto his bed.

But he just couldn’t fall asleep, his mind replaying Old Reed’s words from earlier.

He’d always thought Samuel Reed was a very reserved and quiet person—he never expected him to lose control like that.

That kind of emotion was a complex mix: anger, helplessness, unwillingness, passion, persistence...

Andrew Clark didn’t really understand, but somehow he felt affected too, as if his own blood was faintly boiling.

Movies, movies—what are they, really?

Chapter Seven: Ten Thousand Yuan

He didn’t know how much time had passed before Andrew Clark finally drifted off to sleep.

Again, he didn’t know how long he’d slept when he vaguely heard a commotion, distant at first, then growing closer and clearer.

Andrew Clark opened his eyes, rubbed his face, and listened. The noise was coming from the hallway. Looking outside, it was still dark—what time was it?

“Mr. Morgan! Mr. Morgan?”

He saw that Richard Morgan wasn’t in the bed next to him, so he called out twice, but got no response.

The voices in the hallway continued, and they sounded familiar. Andrew Clark got dressed, slipped on his slippers, and went out.

At the end of the narrow hallway, under the dim yellow light, three people were talking about something.

He had never seen Samuel Reed so furious before—his features were twisted with anger as he shouted, “Let her leave, then! We’ll just get an escort girl to play the part! She wouldn’t be any worse!”

Steven Grant tried to calm him down. “Old Reed, don’t say things you’ll regret. She must have her reasons.”

Samuel Reed said, “What other reason could there be? Her scenes are tomorrow, and she tells me tonight she’s quitting—who does that?!”

Richard Morgan saw that he was in no state to negotiate and said, “You go back to your room and cool off. The two of us will go talk to her.”

Samuel Reed wanted to say more, but Steven Grant forcibly dragged him back to his room.

Richard Morgan turned and saw Andrew Clark. “Qingzi, you come with us too.”

Andrew Clark was completely confused. “What happened?”

“The female lead wants to leave!” Steven Grant jumped in, annoyed.

“Why?”

Even Andrew Clark could tell that it was a big deal for the female lead to want to quit in the middle of filming.

“It’s all about the money!” Steven Grant said angrily.

Zuo Wenlu’s room was upstairs. The three of them went up, and by now the sky was just starting to lighten.

Richard Morgan knocked on the door first. “Come in!” someone inside called.