Ye Zhou slept all day in a gloomy atmosphere at home and then locked himself in the editing room to start cutting the film.
Alongside him, there was the editing team that had been collaborating with Director Sang for many years. At first, the team’s editors were not very fond of Ye Zhou and their opinions towards him were quite indifferent. After all, everyone had their own expertise. Even though they acknowledged Ye Zhou’s directing talent, they didn’t believe he could be of much help in the editing process.
While it was not uncommon in the industry for some directors to edit their own films, compared to professional top editors, they fell short by a large margin.
Ye Zhou noticed the attitude of the editors but did not get angry, nor did he try to show off. He focused on his own work and clearly communicated his needs to the editors when it came to certain shots during the editing process.
Initially, the editing team was very reluctant to work with Ye Zhou on editing together. They were not afraid of hard work or long hours, but they were afraid of amateurs trying to guide professionals, pretending to know what they were doing and yet forcing their opinions.
They had expected all sorts of arguments and unpleasantness to happen during the work. However, what surprised everyone in the editing team was that this collaboration with Ye Zhou not only did not cause any unhappiness, but instead, it deepened their understanding of him and even made them appreciate his talent.
“If you are willing to learn editing, you can come to me anytime.”
This was the last sentence Qin Yi, the head of the editing team, said to Ye Zhou on the day of completion, along with that sentence was a rare private business card that was hard to find in the circle.
Ye Zhou smiled, kept the business card, and continued to work tirelessly on the next phase of the film. Normally, the director only needed to be responsible for filming the movie, while the rest was done by professional staff. But “The Most Beautiful” was a special case, it couldn’t wait for the lengthy review process.
The film review process could range from a few months to several years. Ye Zhou could wait, but Director Sang might not be able to.
To speed up the approval process for the film, Ye Zhou sought help from Mr. Jiang. Fortunately, Mr. Jiang had considerable influence, and moreover, the film did not have any sensitive parts. From submission to approval, it took less than a month to complete.
The documentary market was already very niche. According to common sense, the best plan for this film would be to submit it to competitions, win a few awards, promote it domestically, arrange some screenings to boost word of mouth, and ultimately achieve both critical acclaim and box office success.
If Director Sang were in good health and everything went well, “The Most Beautiful” should have followed this route. After discussion in meetings with Ye Zhou and relevant departments of the crew, this was the chosen path.
The prestigious domestic Golden Fruit Awards would be held in mid-October in C City this year. Additionally, the overseas Odin Film Festival and Byrne Film Festival would respectively take place at the end of November and mid-February next year.
These film festivals, no matter which one they could get into, would bring great benefits to the film. They have even submitted “The Most Beautiful” to the film festivals for consideration.
Just at this moment, Ye Zhou received a phone call from Sang Yu. Her voice on the phone sounded somewhat weak, carrying deep sadness that could not be concealed. In a very soft voice, she told Ye Zhou, “The doctor said, there’s not much time left.”
Ye Zhou’s heart felt like it was being hit hard with heavy punches, an indescribable discomfort. After hanging up Sang Yu’s call, Ye Zhou remained stunned for a while, then called several key people of “The Most Beautiful” production team for an urgent video conference.
Ultimately, they decided to withdraw from the competition for several popular awards at the film festivals, abandon the plan to increase word-of-mouth through previews, and try to advance the release date as much as possible. This was not an easy decision, but with the combined efforts from all sides, they managed to move up the movie’s screening schedule by more than three months, which was the maximum they could achieve.
Director Sang’s deteriorating health condition disrupted the originally set plans completely. The previously prepared promotional strategies were no longer applicable. It was difficult to carry out such a large-scale promotion for a documentary film centered on reality in such a short time frame.
The rush of time led to minimal promotion on the day of the movie’s release. In silence, this movie, which carried a lot of weight, quietly premiered with only a few Weibo posts.
—
Xu Wei has been a long-time fan of Ye Zhou. She had witnessed Ye Zhou’s journey from being criticized across the internet to now being a highly successful director with billions in box office revenue. If she was initially attracted by Ye Zhou’s talent, after so many years of being a fan, what she loved more now than talent was the feeling of accompanying Ye Zhou’s growth.
She watched every movie that Ye Zhou made, never missing a premiere if she could get a ticket. In the beginning, there weren’t many people who liked Ye Zhou, tickets were hard to come by. Now, with Ye Zhou’s increasing fame, getting tickets for his movie premieres had become very difficult.
However, loyal fans like Xu Wei usually did not need to scramble for tickets; they were often provided by staff. But this time, the situation was a bit different.
Since the filming of the new movie that Ye Zhou and Director Sang Huaining collaborated on began, Xu Wei had been following the progress of the film. Not long ago, she even heard that the movie would be submitted to a film festival for consideration. Who would have thought she would suddenly receive news of the movie’s early release?
While early releases were not unheard of, they mostly occurred with commercial films, possibly to secure more box office revenue due to factors like scheduling.
But if she remembered correctly, this movie was a documentary. Generally speaking, documentaries like this were aimed at winning awards, rather than focusing on box office success. For documentaries, box office revenue was usually considered a secondary aspect.
Xu Wei, as a devoted fan of Ye Zhou, naturally hoped that Ye Zhou could win some awards with this movie. Although she understood that her favorite director was truly talented, sometimes reality could be cruel. In this industry, gaining recognition solely based on box office performance was obviously not enough; having prestigious awards was also necessary to go further and gain both fame and recognition.
However, Xu Wei was not an extreme fan and would take it in stride if the production team made other arrangements. Although somewhat confused, Xu Wei bought the premiere movie ticket right away and arrived early at the cinema before the movie started.
Perhaps due to poor promotion of the movie and the fact that it was a documentary that was not very popular in the market, the audience turnout for the premiere was not high. The spacious theater had less than half of the seats filled.
As Xu Wei waited for the movie to start, she saw an elderly gentleman with white hair using a cane entering the theater. Coincidentally, his seat was just a step away from Xu Wei. Although surprised, Xu Wei did not show it. Shortly after the old man took his seat, the theater lights dimmed, signaling the beginning of the movie. She pushed aside her jumbled thoughts and focused her attention on the screen.
In the darkness, the clear and melodious opera broke the silence. It seemed to have a special magical power, capable of transporting the listener back decades to a different era as soon as it was heard.
Before watching the movie, Xu Wei had done her homework and knew that the film depicted the life story of the queen of the music industry, Lin Jingque. In order to understand the queen’s life, she listened to many of Lin Jingque’s songs from the past.
One of the songs had been on repeat in her playlist many times. Despite being able to sing every word accurately from memory, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of trembling as she listened to it in this moment.
It was a feeling completely different from what she was used to. Just a few simple lines of the opera had captivated her ears.
After a few lines of the opera, lights gradually lit up on the screen. It revealed a magnificent stage, with the camera following the lights on stage, giving the audience the illusion of being present at the live event.
If any of Lin Jingque’s fans were watching, they could surely recognize this as her first solo concert held at the D City Huasheng Stadium when she was nineteen.
As all the lights on stage illuminated and the spotlight shone on Lin Jingque, dressed in gorgeous stage attire, appearing in the center of the stage, she was radiant and exquisite. Her face was like a bright moon, her eyes were like burning stars. With every gesture and smile, she exuded an indescribable sense of beauty.
It was a beauty that could not be described in words, as if just looking at her could make one’s soul sway, tears welling up in the eyes.
Xu Wei initially thought it was a song, until she saw in the footage that the stage and Lin Jingque’s stage attire changed with every few lines of lyrics of this song. Each time there was a change, a line of small text appeared at the bottom of the screen, making her realize that this was not just a concert.
This was a special concert created from many live performances from various locations.
“At age twenty, in spring. ‘Chasing the Wind’ Solo Tour – C City stop.”
“At age twenty-two, in autumn. ‘Walking Against the Light’ Solo Tour – L City stop.”
“At age twenty-four, in summer. T City Temple of Heaven Music Festival Awards Ceremony.”
…
Even though Xu Wei was not a fan of Lin Jingque, witnessing such scenes and hearing the emotional voice of the queen herself, brought a hint of moisture to her eyes, not to mention her fans.
The imagery was truly breathtaking and beautiful, the audio-visual feast providing a profound impact on the audience. As the movie had just begun, the theater echoed with quiet sobbing and sniffles.
Just as everyone was immersed in the concert experience that felt as real as being there in person, the singing suddenly came to an abrupt halt.
The frantic screams shattered the graceful music notes. The radiant figure on stage took two steps back, then, like a kite with a broken string, plummeted from the stage.
The camera shook, causing everything in sight to become blurry and chaotic. Amidst the confusion, the screen went dark.
In Xu Wei’s astonishment, she suddenly heard a regretful male voice.
“60% of the total body surface area is burned, they are temporarily out of danger, but the eyes…cannot be saved.”
“Please prepare yourself mentally.”
As the voice faded, a quiet shuffling of footsteps moved from near to far in the silent theater, until it could no longer be heard. Then, a man’s sobbing erupted, starting as suppressed sobs and escalating into uncontrollable wails.
The crying didn’t last long but brought a sting of tears to the listeners.
As the sobbing subsided, accompanied by a soft click as the door was pushed open, the pitch-black screen finally lit up.
A line of small text appeared in the middle of the screen.
“At age thirty-three, in winter.”
“This winter, she lost many things.”
“Her health, her beauty, her eyes.”
“…and her voice.”
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