As it turned out, Ye Zhou’s premonition wasn’t wrong.
They bought tickets for the next available flight to Country F. Upon arrival, Albert attempted to contact his friend, but unfortunately, the person chose to turn off their phone immediately after hearing Albert’s voice.
This setback didn’t faze Albert, however. As if he’d been through countless similar situations, he expertly guided Ye Zhou via subway to a dilapidated two-story building that looked like it hadn’t been renovated in ages.
Just as Albert was about to knock, Ye Zhou hesitantly tugged at his sleeve. When Albert turned to look, Ye Zhou pointed at a large whiteboard hanging beside the door. It bore a message scrawled in messy handwriting.
Ye Zhou struggled to decipher it, but eventually made out that the gist was: The homeowner suffers from severe mental illness. Strangers keep out, acquaintances too.
A small parenthetical addition followed: (Especially Marlin Albert!!!)
The content within the parentheses and the three huge exclamation marks after Albert’s name clearly showed how unwelcome Albert was to the homeowner.
Albert, following Ye Zhou’s gesture, also noticed the whiteboard’s contents. He smiled apologetically at Ye Zhou, attempting to explain, “We’re actually good friends.”
However, judging from their sparse phone calls and the sign seemingly written specifically for Albert, his statement lacked credibility.
What happened next left Ye Zhou dumbfounded. Albert reached out and began erasing the writing on the whiteboard. His movements were so practiced it was almost heartbreaking.
“We really are good friends,” Albert reiterated to Ye Zhou after wiping the board clean, as if trying to emphasize the point.
Ye Zhou: “…”
Whatever makes you happy, I suppose.
Seeing Ye Zhou’s incredulous expression, Albert remained unfazed. He proceeded to ring the doorbell, but the outcome was predictable. No matter how many times he pressed it, the room remained silent as if completely empty.
They exchanged glances, and Albert finally seemed a bit embarrassed. He awkwardly rubbed the tip of his nose, “Actually, we’re not that close.”
Ye Zhou nodded gravely, “Say no more, I understand.”
Just as Ye Zhou was preparing to leave empty-handed, Albert suddenly pulled out his phone and dialed a number with practiced ease. Fortunately, this time he wasn’t given the cold shoulder.
Ye Zhou didn’t have a habit of eavesdropping, but Albert and the lady on the other end were so enthusiastic that he could still catch snippets of their conversation even from a distance.
After the cheerful call ended, Ye Zhou noticed Albert’s previously gloomy demeanor had vanished, replaced by a refreshed air. He looked ready to burst with pride.
“Alright, now we just need to sit by the door and wait for him to come out,” Albert explained animatedly, enthusiastically leading Ye Zhou to sit on the relatively clean wooden steps by the entrance.
Remembering the earlier rejections, Ye Zhou looked at the excited Albert, hesitating to speak.
Albert, seemingly anticipating Ye Zhou’s thoughts, confidently said before he could open his mouth, “Ye, you should trust me. We’re the best of friends, I wouldn’t lie to you!”
Seeing his companion’s self-assured expression, Ye Zhou didn’t have the heart to discourage him. After all, they were already in Country F, so what was a little more waiting?
As they sat chatting by the door, their conversation started lightly but inevitably turned to the film “The Most Beautiful” as both were deeply invested in it.
When work came up, Albert immediately shed his usual carefree attitude, his expression turning serious. As the film’s chief special effects artist, no one understood better than him how demanding the effects requirements were and how much pressure they faced.
Seeing Ye Zhou’s worried look, Albert sighed and began telling him about the owner of this house.
“He’s an exceptional special effects artist. If you met him and saw his work, you’d surely come to like him,” Albert praised generously, despite being repeatedly shut out by this friend.
Through his description, Ye Zhou began to feel a sense of anticipation for this unseen effects master. He smiled, “Talented masters always easily inspire admiration. Hopefully, we’ll have the chance to meet him today.”
Just as Ye Zhou finished speaking, a slightly grating ‘creak’ sounded from behind them.
They both turned towards the sound to see the previously closed wooden door now open. In the doorway stood a scruffy man with red hair, wearing a wrinkled shirt, glaring at them with hostility.
“Albert, you’d better have an extremely good reason, or I’ll snap your neck right here.”
Faced with such a vicious greeting, Albert seemed unfazed. Far from being scared, he leapt up from the steps and bounced towards the man, arms outstretched for a big bear hug.
It was futile. When they were less than a meter apart, the redhead placed a hand on Albert’s forehead, pushing him back with enough force to make him stumble.
If not for Ye Zhou’s quick reflexes in grabbing him, Albert would have likely fallen.
Regaining his balance, Albert remained cheerful. He pulled Ye Zhou to his side and said, “This is Ye, a very talented and innovative director.”
Then, pointing at the redhead, he introduced, “Soren Rich, formerly employed at Marvel Light and Shadow Effects. He used to be their chief special effects artist.”
“Now… in your language, he’d be considered a vagrant1游民 (yóu mín) – vagrant / vagabond,” Albert said, as generous with his praise as he was with his jabs.
Before the redhead Soren could respond, Ye Zhou quickly interjected, extending his hand, “Hello, I’m Ye Zhou.”
The redhead had been ready to swat at him but changed his mind upon seeing Ye Zhou’s outstretched hand. Though visibly impatient, he reluctantly shook hands with Ye Zhou.
“Soren Rich.”
While they were exchanging greetings, Albert nonchalantly pushed open the half-closed door and rushed into the room.
Soren’s barely contained temper flared again at Albert’s reckless behavior. A vein throbbed on his forehead as he said to Ye Zhou, “I’m going in first.”
He strode towards Albert, pinned him to the sofa, and roughed him up a bit before Albert finally settled down.
The room’s style contrasted sharply with the house’s dilapidated exterior. The overall decor was minimalist, predominantly black and white. The furnishings were particularly unique, each piece exuding a strong sense of design.
The three sat in the living room, skipping pleasantries. Under Soren’s death glare, Albert, who had just been disciplined, immediately wilted. Not daring to waste words, he quickly got to the point, with Ye Zhou occasionally adding details.
While Albert and Ye Zhou spoke, Soren remained silent throughout. Only after they finished did he coldly interject.
“Impossible. That technology doesn’t exist yet.”
Albert immediately countered, “It does.”
Albert looked at Soren, their gazes meeting. He seemed about to say something, but upon seeing Soren’s warning look, he swallowed his words.
“You should leave. I can’t help you,” Soren stood, coldly showing them out.
Although Ye Zhou had mentally prepared for this possibility, hearing it still left him feeling dejected.
This disappointment wasn’t just for himself, but more so for Director Sang.
Since the film’s production began, Director Sang’s health had deteriorated, yet he persisted in wanting to complete this movie. As a fellow director, Ye Zhou understood Director Sang’s intentions all too well.
This film was crucial to Director Sang. It wasn’t just a movie; it meant so much more.
Watching Director Sang grow weaker day by day, Ye Zhou felt indescribable emotions, which ultimately coalesced into an unprecedented resolve.
He wanted to help Director Sang make this film the best it could be, to pour everything into it.
Ye Zhou shook his head with a bitter smile, standing to apologize to Soren, “I’m sorry for the intrusion and trouble…”
“He can do it! If even he can’t, then no one can!” Albert leapt from the sofa, determinedly approaching Soren’s side.
Seeing no reaction, Albert cautiously poked Soren, saying, “You can do it, Soren. We all know you can. This film is truly exceptional – brilliant director, top-notch team, perfect script, legendary characters.”
Soren glanced at him, coldly replying, “I’m not interested.”
“All these elements have come together in this film. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You might never get a chance like this again.”
“You’ll be interested in this film, I swear. For the sake of our years of friendship, you must believe me!”
Albert passionately pitched the project. Ye Zhou watched nervously, fearing Soren might pin Albert down at any moment, ready to intervene if necessary.
Surprisingly, after a long silence, the stern-faced Soren turned to Ye Zhou and asked, “Is what he’s saying true?”
Stunned for a moment, Ye Zhou quickly nodded like a pecking chick, nearly ready to swear to heaven and earth that they were the best choice for making this film.
“If you’re willing, you could come back to our country with us, visit the set, and then decide whether you want to join us.”
Ye Zhou had said this offhandedly, not expecting that after much contemplation, the cool Soren would actually agree.
He proved to be a man of action, ready to leave immediately. He packed two shirts in a canvas bag and booked the same flight as Ye Zhou and Albert.
“…He stayed with the crew for over a week, and ended up staying with us.”
Sitting on a stool by the bed, peeling an apple, Ye Zhou recounted to Director Sang how he and Albert had managed to convince Soren to join, focusing on the key points.
Director Sang’s face was full of smiles. Due to his illness, he looked much thinner than before his hospitalization, but his spirits remained high.
“You,” Director Sang chuckled, shaking his head, “You’ve really brought a great master to our crew.”
Ye Zhou shook his head, “It wasn’t me who brought Soren, it was Albert.”
Reflecting on this, Ye Zhou couldn’t help but admire Albert’s immense sacrifice for the crew. During Soren’s week-long visit, the usually hearty Albert lost 5-6 pounds and was visibly worn out.
Thinking of this, Ye Zhou sheepishly muttered, “He’s had it rough. I’ll ask the logistics team to give him an extra chicken leg every day.”
The chicken leg itself wasn’t important; it was the gesture that counted!
Notably, despite their constant bickering, Soren and Albert displayed an astounding synergy when working. Their collaboration, along with Albert’s support, effectively alleviated the special effects issues that had plagued Ye Zhou and the entire production team for so long.
Director Sang’s health improved nicely. Shortly after Ye Zhou’s visit, he was discharged and returned to the set. His presence instantly resolved many issues Ye Zhou had faced while directing alone, often bringing moments of clarity.
Director Sang truly lived up to his reputation as a top-tier director. Working alongside him, Ye Zhou frequently discussed scenes and filming techniques. Director Sang never arbitrarily dictated how to shoot; instead, they’d discuss each day’s filming beforehand. After every discussion, Ye Zhou felt he’d gained invaluable insights.
Having the fortune to learn from such a master, Ye Zhou felt as if he were basking in sweetness daily.
Jiang Tingyuan, concerned about the demanding shoot, would visit the set occasionally, helping improve the crew’s meals and living conditions.
With Director Sang’s guidance and Mr. Jiang’s care and support, Ye Zhou often thought he must have saved the galaxy in a past life to be so fortunate.
While Ye Zhou’s past life deeds were uncertain, it seemed Jiang Yu hadn’t done much good in his.
After years of turmoil and several scandalous incidents during production, “Battle City 2,” jointly funded by Jiang Yu and Peak, finally announced its release date amid great anticipation.
The day the official blog announced the date, the usually calm Weibo exploded. Gossip enthusiasts, film critics, confused bystanders, fans, and haters all gathered, taking their positions in preparation for the imminent chaos.
Jiang Yu had bet almost everything he could on this film.
Whether it would be a financial disaster or a resounding success, potentially turning his fortunes around and bringing both fame and profit, all hinged on “Battle City 2’s” box office performance.
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