Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 35 Old Friends from Tianjin

The green train was constantly letting in wind through the cracks in the windows, making a sharp whistling sound.

This kind of slow train, common in the early 2000s, was filled with a mixture of cigarette smoke, instant noodles, and foot odor. Su Wan sat opposite Chen Yan, her face unhealthy and sallow, her eyes bloodshot. She clutched her black leather bag tightly, her fingernails digging into the leather, leaving a row of dents of varying depths.

Zhang Yuan sat by the window, fiddling with his Seagull camera. Outside the window, bare poplar groves and drab brick houses flashed by; the sky was overcast.

"Chen'er, have some water."

Zhang Yuan handed over a green plastic military water bottle.

Chen Yan took the water; it was ice-cold and had a raw, earthy smell. He took a sip and pulled the business card from his pocket. Liang Qinian's name was somewhat blurry in the dim light.

"Once we arrive in Tianjin, we should find a place to stay."

"Where to stay?" Zhang Yuan stopped what he was doing. "The whole area around Laochang Street is a shantytown; there isn't even a decent guesthouse."

"I live on Laochang Street, which is close to the Bell Tower."

It was already 4 p.m. when the train arrived at the station.

On the platform of Tianjin Railway Station, porters wearing greasy vests pulled wooden carts through the crowd. As soon as the three of them stepped off the train, they were surrounded by several pedicab drivers.

"Hey buddy, where are you going? Five bucks, delivery all over town."

Chen Yan ignored them and led the two towards the bus stop. Su Wan's leather shoes had too high heels, and she wobbled on the uneven cement ground. She groaned, but stubbornly refused to let go of the bag she was carrying.

Old Factory Street is not far from the train station. The utility poles are leaning, with countless tangled wires hanging from them. Large chunks of plaster have peeled off the walls, revealing dark red bricks, the color of which has been corroded by industrial waste gas.

They entered a shop called "Red Star Hotel".

The proprietress was a plump woman in her fifties, sitting behind the counter eating sunflower seeds while the TV was showing "The Grand Mansion Gate".

"Three people, two rooms."

Chen Yan handed over his ID card.

The landlady didn't even look up, spitting sunflower seed shells on the ground. "Fifteen yuan a day for one room, no hot water, use the toilet in the backyard. Pay up if you want to stay."

Chen Yan took out thirty yuan and handed it over.

The room was on the second floor. Pushing open the door, a damp, musty smell filled the air. The sheets on the wooden bed were yellowed, and there was a dried water stain in the corner.

"Chen Yan, how long are we going to stay here?" Su Wan put down her bag and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Wait for Wu Gang."

Chen Yan walked to the window and pushed open the creaking wooden window.

Half a kilometer away, an abandoned clock tower stands silently in the afterglow of the setting sun. That is where Lu Haiming rose to prominence, and also where "Thunder" will bury him.

Wu Gang arrived at 7 p.m.

He pushed open the door, reeking of the pungent smell of bicycle grease, and put on a faded blue work uniform.

Did you bring the money?

Wu Gang stood at the door and asked, but didn't go inside. He held his right hand to his groin, where an old injury from many years ago had occurred.

Su Wan took out an envelope from her purse containing 10,000 yuan in cash.

Wu Gang took the envelope and quickly counted the contents with his calloused and oily hands.

"Deposit." Chen Yan looked at him. "The rest will be settled weekly after filming begins. I'll cover the medical expenses separately."

Wu Gang stuffed the money into his pocket, revealing a few teeth stained yellow from smoking. "Lu Haiming's men came to my place this afternoon. They said that if I take your role, I won't be able to find work even picking up trash in Tianjin and Beijing."

Chen Yan handed him a Marlboro.

Wu Gang lit a cigarette, the sparks flickering in the dim room.

"We've found all twelve of them, all of them old masters from back then who survived or were crippled. These past few years, they've all been killing fish at the market and pedaling tricycles on the street. They've gotten a little rusty, but the skills of demolishing and building are ingrained in their bones."

He turned to look at the clock tower outside the window.

"You want to film there? That place is now under the city's jurisdiction, and Lu Haiming is keeping it as a model for 'old city renovation.' Getting in won't be that easy."

"Take me to see Liang Qinian tomorrow."

Wu Gang's eyes held a newfound scrutiny. "You're looking for him? That old fox spends his days lazing around in the police station, ignoring everyone."

"He will listen."

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking.

The morning fog in Tianjin is thick. At the entrance of Laochang Street, the fried cake stall is emitting white smoke, and the hot oil is sizzling.

Wu Gang squatted by the roadside, holding two freshly fried cakes in his hands.

"Liang Qinian works at the old factory area police station over there. That place used to be a local temple."

The police station was indeed old; the withered grass in the yard had grown to waist height, and a rusty old bicycle was leaning against the door.

A man in his fifties, wearing an old police uniform, sat behind a desk, his reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

He is Liang Qinian.

His hair was completely white, his face was ashen from years of staying up late, and he held a peeling enamel mug with red lettering in his hand.

"Go next door to handle your business; we only handle dispute mediation here."

Liang Qinian didn't even look up.

Chen Yan walked over and placed the business card that Yan Huaizhong had given him on the newspaper.

Liang Qinian's gaze lingered on the small red stamp on the back of the business card. He put down the newspaper, took off his reading glasses, and stared at Chen Yan.

"Old Yan hasn't retired yet?"

"Still at school."

Liang Qinian snorted coldly and stuffed the business card into his pocket. "What did he ask you to do with me? If you're looking for old stories about that land, you've come to the wrong person."

"I don't care about the accounts," Chen Yan said, looking directly at the other person. "I want to rent the clock tower on Old Factory Street to film a movie."

Liang Qinian's hand wobbled, and tea splashed onto the newspaper.

"Film a story about a man searching for his sister who has been missing for twenty years beneath a collapsed tower."

Chen Yan's voice was very soft.

"Bang!"

Liang Qinian slammed the enamel mug heavily on the table, stood up abruptly, and his face twitched.

"Did Yan Huaizhong tell you that?"

"He pieced it together from piles of waste paper that hadn't been burned yet, and so did I."

Chen Yan did not retreat an inch.

Liang Qinian stared intently at Chen Yan for a long time before finally sitting back down in the creaking swivel chair.

"Do you realize that starting construction there is like stabbing Lu Haiming in the heart?"

"I knew. That's why I brought explosives and a camera."

Liang Qinian fell silent. He took out a pack of cigarettes that cost five cents a pack from the drawer, lit one, and the smoke blurred his face.

"How do you want to film it?"

"I want to recreate that clock tower on its original site, one-to-one." Chen Yan pulled out the structural drawings he had made last night. "I want to show the half that collapsed back then collapsing again in the movie. But this time, I will let the whole world see clearly how it collapsed."

Liang Qinian stretched out his trembling hand, his fingertips tracing the location of the load-bearing beam on the blueprint. That was where his sister was buried.

"I can help you with the land issue. That plot of land hasn't been officially registered with the Lu family yet." Liang Qinian took a deep drag on his cigarette. "But there's one condition."

"Please speak."

"I want to be there when the building collapses."

"You're not just there on the scene." Chen Yan put away the drawings. "You need to put on this suit and handcuff the murderer on camera. I want that thunderclap to really resound over Tianjin."

Over the next three days, a large number of people gathered on Laochang Street.

Wu Gang led the men, who looked like vagrants, quietly into the abandoned open space. A large amount of dilapidated building materials were brought in by trucks.

Chen Yan, dressed in camouflage and with his shoes covered in black mud, ran back and forth on the construction site.

Su Wan sat in the drafty makeshift house, holding a calculator and checking every cost.

On Friday afternoon, three black Santana cars were parked at the street corner.

Wang, the comprador, got out of the car with plasters on his face. Behind him followed a dozen or so men with buzz cuts, all wearing black jackets.

"Director Chen, you're pretty quick."

Wang, the comprador, walked to the edge of the construction site and looked at the wooden frame that was beginning to take shape.

Chen Yan put down the measuring tape, turned to look at him, and asked, "Is something wrong?"

"President Lu said we're going to develop this land. Your construction permits are not compliant." Wang, the purchasing agent, pulled out an official letter. "This is a notice just issued by the district, ordering a halt to construction."

Chen Yan took the paper and, in front of Wang the comprador, tore it into several pieces.

"You!" Wang, the comprador, changed his expression.

"Whether the procedures are compliant or not is up to Director Liang to decide."

Liang Qinian walked out slowly, wearing his faded police uniform. He had an old, rusty Type 54 pistol hanging from his waist and a whistle between his lips.

"I am Liang Qinian from Laochang Street Police Station."

He walked up to Wang, the comprador, and blew a puff of smoke in the man's face.

"Someone reported you for engaging in a group fight. How about it? Come back to the station with me for a chat."

Wang, the comprador, stood there stunned. He hadn't expected this old man, who was about to retire, to jump out like this.

"Director Liang, Director Lu and Director Li from the Municipal Public Security Bureau are..."

"Don't try to scare me with Director Li; he was arrested last year."

Liang Qinian slammed his hand on the holster at his waist. "Get lost! If you loiter around here again, I'll arrest you for obstructing official business!"

Wang, the comprador, gritted his teeth and pointed at Chen Yan. "Fine, you've got guts. Let's see how tall you can build this building!"

The Santana roared away.

Chen Yan watched the car disappear into the distance. This was just the first test.

"Chen Yan." Su Wan walked over and handed him a towel.

Are you scared?

"I haven't spent all the money yet, so I'm not worried."

As the sun sets, the distant clock tower casts a huge shadow.

Chen Yan walked to the highest point of the construction site. In his past life, he had lost everything at this very spot. In this life, he would personally bring down the rain that was twenty years overdue.

"Old Zhang, did you bring Mother?"

Zhang Yuan's voice came through the walkie-talkie: "Just got it back. Director Chen, what should we shoot for the first take?"

Chen Yan looked at the soil beneath his feet.

"Photographing the first brick that Lu Haiming personally buried on this land."

As soon as he finished speaking, in the old alley not far away, several men on motorcycles were slowly extinguishing their engines, the steel pipes in their hands gleaming coldly in the moonlight.