Son of the Bone

Jiang Jue entered the group fifteen days later than Qi Lin.

There are still half a month to start the machine, and the weather is getting hotter and hotter.

I heard that Bailuan City has been built for three years. Up to now, there are still two gardens and a koi pond unfinished, and various vehicles carrying flowers and plants have come and gone.

When he came, he first went to say hello to his mother, and then saw her shaking her pen and burying her head in writing.

"See Director Jiang." Jiang Yanzhi obviously didn't have time to talk to him: "He's waiting for you in the conference room on the fourth floor."

Sitting in the conference room drinking tea, Jiang Sun raised his hand symbolically when he saw Jiang Jue approaching: "Have you brought anything?"

"Bring it." Jiang Jue took out the notebook from his bag, and showed him the biography and level analysis of the characters he had written. The corresponding details and performance assumptions were also written quite clearly.

This is Director Jiang's habit, and everyone in the industry knows it.

Jiang Fal took a sip of tea, read through the pages of the book, and said after a while: "No, go back and rewrite."

Jiang Jue didn't protest either, he nodded and took the notebook, went back to his room to get a new notebook, and started to rewrite the character analysis for the third time.

Jiang Sun's filmmaking is different from others.

It is utilitarian and realistic, relying on the judges' preferences for special effects and lighting plots in order to win awards, writing cool and cheerful vulgar books in order to make money, and doing everything with a clear purpose.

Wei Feng's personal style is obvious and he pays attention to efficiency. What can be filmed in 20 days will never be finished in [-] days. He strives for low cost and high return. He can dig out the depth and gradient of all characters like a model. He even directs photography. Do it by yourself - it's easy for an actor to follow him, just be obedient.

Jiang Falcon is different.

Jiang Sun didn't win many awards, and the box office went up and down.

But some of his films are truly epoch-making classics, and after 20 years, people have watched them over and over again.

Feelings, style, feelings, and many mysterious and mysterious things were pushed to the extreme by him and his photography team.

The photography team under him can shoot a creeper on the palace wall for one day, and then shoot next to the sunset for another day, and delete long sections when the interest comes.

Originally, the contract had to be signed with Jiang Jue for two years at the beginning, but Jiang Yanzhi bargained with him as his own mother, saying that the child still has to go to college to get a diploma, you have to give me face, and finally signed it reluctantly Jiang Jue was six months old, and it happened to be a Chinese New Year holiday after filming.

The next day, Jiang Jue knocked on the door on time with his notebook.

There was a stack of papers piled up in front of Jiang Sun, and next to him were some leaders of the art team talking about the project with him.

The director took his notebook, roughly flipped through the third time he started again, and didn't say yes or no, he just sorted out the waste manuscripts next to him, and put a stack of paintings in Jiang Jue's arms.

"This is..." Jiang Jue glanced at the various storyboards, scene drafts, and various scribbled annotations.

"Go back and write about your experience." Jiang Sun put the notebook back on the pile of paintings.

Jiang Jue felt that the main artist looked at him with a little more sympathy.

He nodded and went back to continue writing.

There is everything in this stack of papers.

The old drafts of the design of each part of Bailuan City, the bird's-eye view manuscripts from different angles, and the courtyards created for different characters' temperaments and personalities, and detailed drawings of multiple sets of clothing.

Some passed, and some were completely rejected.

Jiang Jue took a deep breath and spent three days soaking with these papers.

He read classics and scripts, but did not write novel analysis and script analysis in school.

Today Director Jiang asked him to look at the painting... Even if he doesn't understand it.

The art classes in elementary and junior high schools were taken away by the math teacher, and he really didn't understand much.

Jiang Yanzhi wrote upstairs, and Jiang Jue wrote downstairs, and neither mother nor child got any better.

After three days, he went to share his reflections, and a group of visual effects consultants were sitting in a meeting.

"No." Jiang Sun threw the notebook back: "Do it all over again."

Jiang Jue was preparing to go back with a pile of paintings and notebooks, when he immediately saw his own mother who came to hand in homework.

Jiang Yanzhi's dark circles came out.

Jiang Jue usually has a good temper. At this time, he returned home with his homework in hand, spread out the paintings one by one on the table, and looked at them with his chin propped up for a long time, feeling the urge to tear them up.

The nightingale stone carvings and the crane feather cloak are both very beautiful-they are so beautiful that I can't make up a thousand-word impression.

In the silence, the phone rang again.

"Jiang Jue." Qi Lin said out of breath, "I think my life is here."

Holding the phone, Jiang Jue was silent for a while and said, "Me too."

"I was boxing with the martial arts instructor today, and he beat me for real!" Qi Lin covered his waist and howled: "Rub it lightly! Please!"

The physical therapist behind him was actually not at all trying.

Compared with physical torture and mental torture...which is worse?

Jiang Jue sighed, and said, "I haven't finished my thesis, so I didn't hang up beforehand."

"Didn't you write yesterday?"

"Ah."

"You were writing four or five days ago?"

"Um……"

Qi Lin was stunned, and said in disbelief: "You haven't turned on the phone yet? You've been writing the script?"

Jiang Jue had a sore nose, and said sullenly, "I feel like I'm going to be hollowed out, I can't even write a single word."

This is more painful than holding back an [-]-word composition in high school. There is no time limit and no word limit, but you can't hand in the job.

"Which director are you following..." Qi Lin said blankly, "Such a personality."

"Jiang Falcon." When Jiang Jue mentioned these two words, his mood fluctuated slightly: "After I leave the film crew, I may become a novelist."

As soon as he heard the word Jiang Sun, Qi Lin immediately thought of the love and hatred that he had imagined before, and couldn't help but said: "Isn't Jiang Sun..."

"Well, my mother is here too." Jiang Jue rubbed his wrist with the phone between his hands and said, "I heard that she has written more than a dozen drafts."

This news was so weird that Qi Lin couldn't digest it at all.

Out of his personal qualities, he was embarrassed to ask about such a close personal matter, and it would seem too philistine to gossip if he got to the bottom of it.

But—Director Jiang!You brought your illegitimate son to make a movie, and you brought his mother here, just to let him write a thesis for two days and nights-is it plausible! !

What kind of trouble is this? Did the whole family sacrifice themselves fearlessly for the sake of art! !

"I heard that Jiang Yanzhi was there too?" Qi Lin remembered something and asked, "Have you seen her?"

Jiang Jue was so dazed by his writing that he didn't even think about how to tell him, "I explained it. She was writing a thesis upstairs, and she wasted a lot of pens."

Qi Lin fell into a long silence.

Is the director trying to sneak into SCI or something.

Jiang Jue stayed in the room all night, and began to try to connect everything.

The spacious and draggy design of the clothes is to show the extravagance and majesty of the characters.

The courtyard design is deep and quiet, and the corridors are like a labyrinth. It is not only to prevent assassins and hide the location of the master bedroom, but also to facilitate large-scale banquets.

All existence is meaningful.

He lowered his head with a pen and wrote down line by line, like a god standing in the dark night, trying to link every star together and make them line up like constellations on the sky.

Why are rows of sculptures arranged, why is a river passed through the palace, and everyone can hear the sound of running water at night.

As he was writing, he suddenly saw Tantai Ming wearing a palace robe and a jade crown, how he was summoned by the empress on that rainy night, walking on the long silent steps.

When he was uneasy and forbearing, he would rub the chilong on the tourmaline ring with his fingertips.

The protruding dragon horn is like a needle, and the person who can stab it remains awake.

Dragon Blood Seal has too many shapes.It has lived in legends and long songs for hundreds of years, and the only constant is the changing bloodstains.

Tantaiming had fantasized about its countless appearances, but the moment he actually held it, his heart was empty and he felt nothing.

All awe and admiration have been worn away in the process of chasing.

All that's left is exhaustion and numbness.

He began to see many of the things he saw.

Tantai Ming was thinking about many things, and every step he took was a bit procrastinated.

His delicate and intricate robes had long been muddy by the rain, and there was still the faint sound of crickets in the rain.

The sound of his pen tip is like the autumn wind, the Bailuan city in his memory is covered with maple leaves, the light is scattered on the distant mountain like a beast's spine, and the sound of horseshoes is mixed with the soft ringing of bells.

On the day of Tantai Ming's death, it happened that the first snow fell, and the light snowflakes fell on the back of his hands, as if the blood from his throat was dripping down little by little.

So Jiang Jue wrote with real feelings all night.

Some plots and scenes that did not appear in the script were vividly depicted, and he even felt that he could switch to writing fanfiction.

Movies, before the editing is completed, are like a huge sandbox world.

Everything has countless possibilities, and the director and actors stand at the intersection of countless parallel worlds, capturing every fleeting moment.

Every element that is negated in the draft has a reason for being negated and violated.

Everything on the long axis—the courtyard, the stables, the royal court, the birch forest—all have meaning.

He wrote eloquently while drinking coffee, and a strange refreshing and joyful feeling followed.

When it was time to hand in the homework the next day, a group of people in the conference room were building blocks.

A bunch of fake mountains and fake trees are scattered around, and different set plans are lit up on the screen.

Holding his breath, Jiang Jue handed the small book to Director Jiang, who weighed it and began to read it page by page.

During the process of his watching, the towers and courtyards next to him were dismantled and rebuilt, and there was even a large square-like lake.

Several special effects artists couldn't tell the country, and they were arguing noisily in various languages.

Jiang Fal watched for a long time before opening his mouth.

"good."

Jiang Jue breathed a sigh of relief in his heart, thinking that he could finally start the machine.

"Starting tomorrow, you can enter Bailuan City." Jiang Sun wrote a note casually, which can be used as a proof of entry and exit: "Three thousand words per day, let's start with the koi pond."

Jiang Jue took the note and said after a while, "The koi pond is not finished yet..."

"So?" Jiang Fal finally looked up at him: "Do you want to fill in the soil?"

Jiang Jue shook his head quickly: "I'll go tomorrow."