novellhall Chapter 84 The Director's Murder Techniques
Chapter 84 The Director's Murder Techniques
The heating in Hall 3 of the Omiya Palace failed to dispel the dampness that seeped in through the cracks in the door.
Marco bent down, picked up the two broken pieces of yellow seal, and ran his fingertips over the broken fibers.
"Explain."
He turned to look at Lu Haiming.
The black leather suitcase was open, and the film rolls inside were piled up haphazardly, their worn color gleaming in the dim light.
Lu Haiming pulled his right hand back into his suit sleeve, his fingernail tracing across his palm, but his face remained expressionless; he simply straightened his Windsor knot.
"Mr. Marco, you should value the evidence, not who obtained it."
Lu Haiming pointed to the stack of exposed film.
"These negatives record how Director Chen's works were born in the film processing plant in 1991. This is not called creation, this is called copying."
Chen Yan stepped down the stairs, the soles of his leather shoes hitting the wooden floor with a dull sound.
He stopped half a meter away from the suitcase.
"The seal was forcibly torn open."
Chen Yan pointed his index finger at the scratch on the suitcase lid.
"Mr. Lu, you acted very quickly. Before the Venice Organizing Committee's investigation process even started, you had already delivered the 'truth' to their doorstep."
Lu Haiming didn't look at him, his fingertips fidgeting repeatedly in his pocket.
"The truth is right here, that's enough."
Marco stared at the box, his brow furrowed.
He waved to the projectionist behind him.
"Put it on, I want to see what's inside."
"etc."
Chen Yan raised his hand to block the projector's light source, and the beam of light shone on the back of his hand, casting a pale ring.
"Mr. Marco, since it's about comparing evidence, both machines need to be running together."
He pulled a silver caliper from his pocket and tapped it on the edge of the table.
"On the left is Mr. Lu's 'Masterpiece of 1991.' On the right is a backup copy of 'Thunder.'"
"I'll show you exactly which machine these things came from."
Henry emerged from the shadows in the corner and stood directly in front of Marco.
"This is not in accordance with regulations; the screening room cannot be handed over to..."
Marco waved his hand and roughly pushed him aside.
"Let him release it."
Marco stepped over the scattered wires and sat down in the folding chair behind the control panel.
"If it's fake, Venice will immediately declare Chen Yan out."
"Smack."
The master switch was turned off.
The last two wall lamps in Hall 3 went out.
Two straight beams of white light pierced through the darkness, creating two patches of light on the big screen.
left.
The rain on the Suzhou River was a discarded draft that Chen Yan had only half-shot in his previous life.
right.
Lin Qingqiu, holding an umbrella behind the broken wall, held her breath; this is the current "Thunder".
"Freeze frame".
Chen Yan spoke.
The sound of gears meshing stopped abruptly.
The left side of the image is frozen on a profile against the backdrop of rain.
That was Lin Qingqiu, wearing an old, pilling sweater.
The right side is a close-up now, the same face, but the texture of the light and shadow is completely different.
Chen Yan walked to the bottom of the screen.
He stretched out his right hand and touched Lin Qingqiu's profile in the left side of the image with his fingertip.
"Magnify it to the limit."
The projectionist rotates the projection tower.
The camera zoomed in, and Lin Qingqiu's pupils were enlarged to fill half the screen.
A row of extremely fine white dots were reflected in the dark depths of his eyes.
"Mr. Marco, look here."
Chen Yan's fingertip touched the center of that white dot.
"That's a four-tube cold fluorescent lamp assembly, the latest model from 2000. The first batch worldwide was manufactured in Chicago in October 1998."
Chen Yan pulled a folded rental list from his pocket and slapped it on the back of the first row of chairs.
"Since it's a 1991 film, why does Miss Lin's eye show light reflections that weren't invented until seven years later?"
Lu Haiming's eyelid twitched.
He stared at the white dot in the pupil, and made a very soft sound in his throat, like the rubbing of paper.
"And this too."
Chen Yan pointed to the background of the image on the left, where rolling clouds were visible.
"The movement of the clouds is too regular. That's the 'turbulent field' algorithm used in digital rendering. The amount of computation involved in this kind of light and shadow occlusion is so large that even a microcomputer from three years ago couldn't run it, let alone in 1991."
Lu Haiming's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, but he didn't speak.
"That's not the point."
Chen Yan picked up the roll of "1991 old film" from the worktable.
He clamped the caliper onto the edge of the film.
The reading window displays: 0.15mm.
"Mr. Marco, you're a veteran filmmaker."
Chen Yan placed the readings in front of Marco.
"In 1991, the Kodak 5247 series required a film base thickness of 0.17 millimeters to prevent the emulsion from peeling off. That was an ironclad rule in the industry."
"And the volume I have is only 0.15."
Chen Yan closed the calipers with a crisp sound.
"Mr. Lu used a new film base from 2000 to create this batch of 'cultural relics,' but forgot to add some thickness to it."
Chen Yan tossed the film back into the box very gently, but the sound of the film hitting the box was particularly jarring in the deathly silent hall.
"Mr. Lu, taking future film reels back in time to shoot a movie, this time-travel drama is a disaster."
Lu Haiming suddenly laughed.
"Director Chen, you have a rich imagination, but technical reasoning can't refute physical evidence. These production numbers can be found in the archives."
"Clang!"
A black metal box with a black antenna crashed down from the maintenance opening in the ceiling.
The box landed on the red carpet and rolled twice.
Wu Gang nimbly slid down the ladder.
He brushed the rust dust off his sleeve and pointed to the device on the ground that was still flashing green.
"It was taken from the ceiling cavity. It's connected to the projector's output and has infrared sensor."
Chen Yan bent down, picked up the box, and held it under Marco's nose.
"Digital wireless transmitter. It can capture every frame of the projector in real time and transmit it to an external receiver."
Chen Yan looked at Henry, whose face was deathly pale.
"Mr. Lu's 'Masterpiece of 1991' was made using the 15 minutes of footage stolen from the test screening, which was then converted and compressed overnight."
Marco stared at the black box, his fingertips turning bluish from the pressure.
He turned his head abruptly.
"Henry, explain."
Henry stumbled backward, his spine slamming against the heavy wooden door.
"That was...that was Chen Yan's setup. I don't recognize this thing."
"You know him."
Su Wan pushed open the side door and walked in.
She was clutching a crumpled call log in her hand.
"Thirty minutes ago, you dialed a number using the secondary line in this room. The receiving end is the satellite fax machine at the Danielly Hotel."
Su Wan slapped the paper directly onto Henry's chest with considerable force.
"Mr. Lu is waiting there for your good news. Unfortunately, when Wu Gang cut the line, he also locked the data packet you hadn't finished sending."
Henry slid down and landed on the ground, pressed against the projector.
He looked up at Lu Haiming, his lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.
Lu Haiming remained standing in the same spot, his calm expression like oil paint that had dried in the wind.
"Mr. Marco."
Lu Haiming spoke slowly, his voice devoid of any emotion.
"This is a minor business misunderstanding, and I don't want Venice's honor to be tarnished. Since there's a dispute, I'm withdrawing this box."
"withdraw?"
Marco clenched the seal fragment in his hand into a tight knot.
"Lu Haiming, you've broken the rules of Venice. This isn't a copyright dispute; this is fraud."
He abruptly waved his hand and shouted at the two policemen who were already waiting outside the door:
"Take them all away and send them to the police station. As for Henry, his judging qualifications are hereby revoked."
The police officers stepped forward, grabbed Henry by the shoulders, and dragged him outside.
Henry's worn-out leather shoes left two long trails on the red carpet.
Lu Haiming remained standing.
Two security guards surrounded him, but he didn't move.
He stared intently at Chen Yan, less than a foot away, and could smell the lingering medicinal odor on the other man.
"Chen Yan, do you really think you've won?"
Lu Haiming lowered his voice, each word sounding as if it were being ground out from between his teeth.
"Marco has already banned 'Thunder.' Even if this reel is fake, your film will never see the light of day until the investigation is complete."
Chen Yan took a step forward.
Their toes were almost touching.
"First, all the technical comparisons I just made have been entered into the organizing committee's log. Mr. Marco isn't that stupid; he will lift the lockdown before dawn."
Chen Yan reached out and straightened Lu Haiming's disheveled tie.
"Secondly, you will never find that original master tape of 'Rain in the Old City' again."
Lu Haiming's eyes narrowed slightly, but he held back.
"You destroyed it?"
"I've stored it in a place that someone like you can never reach."
Chen Yan patted his shoulder with great force.
"Mr. Lu, you'd better keep your eyes peeled and watch carefully how I edited the following scenes."
Lu Haiming snorted coldly and turned to walk out the door.
His footsteps sounded chaotic in the empty screening room, like he was running away or struggling.
Marco walked over and nodded to Chen Yan.
"Chen, the negatives will be returned as soon as possible. But you'd better really clean up your past."
"I see."
Chen Yan replied.
Marco led his men away, the sound of his leather shoes fading into the distance.
Wu Gang and Su Wan stepped forward.
"Old Chen, that kid Luca has slipped away."
Wu Gang patted the wrench in his hand.
"The electrical room wasn't blocked, and he took a backup videotape with him."
"Let him take it."
Chen Yan looked at the huge silver screen that was now reflecting a pale afterglow.
"There's nothing he wants inside."
He strode toward the exit of Hall 3.
The rain in Venice seemed to be getting heavier; raindrops pounded on the steps of the Grand Palace, creating a damp atmosphere.
Chen Yan pushed open the heavy wooden door.
At the bottom of the steps, a man wearing a long black trench coat was holding a black umbrella.
The man was wearing a top hat, the brim pulled down so low that it completely obscured his face.
He didn't move, just stood there quietly, a distant street lamp reflected in the puddles at his feet.
The man stretched out his right hand and slowly struck a match.
"laugh."
A dark red flame flickered briefly in the rain before disappearing.
He threw the matchstick into the water.
Then, he raised his head and, through the layers of rain, made a "starting gesture" to Chen Yan.
That's a tradition of the older generation of photographers at Beijing Film Academy before officially starting filming.
Chen Yanding remained in place.
He couldn't see the other person's face clearly, but he was all too familiar with that stale, decaying aura that emanated from the very bones.
"Who is that?"
Su Wan leaned closer to him, clutching a roll of uncut tape in her hand.
"A dead man who should have been incinerated long ago."
Chen Yan stared at that figure from behind.
The man in black turned around, opened his umbrella, and walked into the narrow alley.
His steps were steady, without making a sound as if he were floating in the rain.
"Back to the film storage."
Chen Yan buttoned up his trench coat tightly, the wind messing up his hair, but he didn't care.
"Not going to the hotel?"
"Lu Haiming's ship is already leaking. What I need to do now is to make every inch of the negative grow thorns."
Chen Yan walked towards the dock.
A flat-bottomed wooden boat was rocking against the shore.
The engine coughed rapidly, and black smoke was pushed into the sea by the rain.
The bells of St. Mark's Campanile pierced through the rain.
There were nine shots in total.
Chen Yan sat at the bow of the boat, reached into his pocket, and felt a coin with a frayed edge.
He picked it up from the carpet in Hall 3.
He tossed the coin into the air, watched it spin a few times in the rain, and then plunged into the dark water.
Not a sound was left behind.
"It's time to cut this part."
Chen Yan looked toward the film warehouse in the distance, his voice carried away by the roar of the engine.
On the distant horizon, Lu Haiming's private yacht was moving slowly.
The lights on the deck swayed in the waves.
Meanwhile, in a leaky shack in Venice, Luca was staring at the stolen videotape.
He tore open the plastic casing with trembling hands.
It was completely empty; even the magnetic head was broken.
There was only one red sticky note stuck in the center of the roll.
The text above reads:
December 16, 2025.
Those were the days when Chen Yan was rotting in the garbage dump in his previous life.
Luca's hand trembled, and the videotape shattered.
Black powder was scattered all over the ground.
And at this moment, in front of the dock warehouse.
Chen Yan took a heavy bucket of medicine from Wu Gang.
The warehouse's iron gate slowly opened, the rusty hinges emitting a harsh, teeth-grinding sound.
"We'll be staying up all night tonight."
Chen Yan placed the medicine next to the inkstone.
"What are we supposed to do?"
Su Wan helped him pull the blackout curtains shut.
"kill."
Chen Yan watched the dark shadows churning in the medicinal pool.
"Use the camera lens."
The iron gate slammed shut, the clanging of chains echoing in the sea breeze.