Seventy two hundred

Respecting a cigarette, borrowing a fire, clasping hands together palm to palm, or even getting closer to exchanging snorts are just the daily routine among smokers.

No matter how close they are, it is only a second and a half of intimacy.

The wind was strong, and it blew across the wilderness for ten miles. The men stood in twos and threes, and the charm could not be preserved at all.

But just within a second and a half of the approach, the heat from Guan Ming's palm started a fire on Xu Tang's wrist and the back of his hand little by little. A sudden gust of wind made Xu Tang suspicious.

To put it bluntly, people in the film and television industry are also engaged in art. They are more sensitive and agile than others.

It's not that Xu Tang has never been teased by a man.

When I was in school, I worked with the film crew, and among the characters I filmed, there are many men who love Xu Tang even more than girls.

Of course, Xu Tang never meant that, but he still respected it.

Even after a certain ex broke up with him, he almost wanted to introduce a man to him, but he didn't know whether it was revenge or caring.

"Okay," Xu Tang withdrew his thoughts, his eyelids bumped up and down, and his eyelashes fluttered in the wind.

He smiled at Guan Ming, couldn't help but also took out one, and lit it for himself.

Xu Tang half-closed his eyes, pressed the tip of his tongue against his upper teeth, clamped his index finger and middle finger, and skillfully held the cigarette in his mouth, exhaling the smoke through a small slit, raised his eyes at Guan Ming, and joked seriously: "The addiction to cigarettes almost Hooked out by you."

In the effort of one cigarette, Xu Tang took the subject Bo Rit around the front and back of the house to get a general idea of ​​the various trees, flowers and plants that he has tried to control sand in the past 50 years.

But still feel unwilling.

Xu Tang tried to ask: "I think the landscaping is quite mature now, and the trees and grass are growing well, so what are you usually... busy in the morning and afternoon?"

Bo Rit's steps obviously paused, and he raised his arms, revealing a tear on the sleeve of the gorgeous purple Mongolian robe that had been mended countless times.

With a big wave of his hand, he led Xu Tang and Guan Ming's gaze across the overgrown fence, across the uneven Artemisia annua, across the rows of Haloxylon and strange willows, and extended infinitely farther and farther.

"Plant trees," Poritt said with the vicissitudes of wind and sand in his voice, and pointed to them the answer: "Twenty kilometers west of Kanchuan Town, there is the last piece of sand."

His hand was slowly lowered, and a little softness flashed on his serious face: "My wife and I are short of the ten acres of land that have not been planted with trees."

"Get on the machine."

Xu Tang quickly ordered Guan Ming to put himself into work without any hesitation.

The little bee on Poritt's body has been clipped in advance, and the radio is normal.

Xu Tang didn't care about the sunlight overhead. He guided Porit to stand under a tree with the vast grassland behind him. The mottled tree shadows fell from the old man's head and fell on his weather-beaten face.

Guan Ming felt that it was rough, and everything was rough. This place had to be set up or not, and whether it was angled or not. He directed Da Fei to carry the machine, and stood aside to think of a way.

"Oh, okay."

Da Fei is young, with a rather strong stature. He carried the 30-pound RED on his shoulders, and the camera shot at Po Rit's upper body. He listened to the director's order and turned on the machine.

Xu Tang moved a little away, and stood out of the camera's reach, "Did you and your lover decide to plant trees and control sand?"

"Well, she's going to plant the tree." Porit's eyes flickered, as if caught in some kind of memory, speaking with a strong Mongolian accent, he said unhurriedly: "She married... she never lived It was a peaceful day, with sand flying all over the sky, nothing could be grown on the ground, lambs had nothing to eat, and seedlings couldn’t survive.”

His tone was not heavy, but very calm, his voice seemed to contain coarse gravel, and every word was melodious in the wind.

Finally being able to make friends with the subject, Xu Tang swallowed his anxiety.

But in the next second, he caught a glimpse of the non-narrative scene in Da Fei's camera, and his heart hung up again.

Xu Tang glanced at Guan Ming, and probably guessed that the young man wanted to send an artist to decorate the scene, even if he put a few shades on the lights and put a piece or two of butterfly cloth on it, it could soften the strong light. Bundle.

But making a documentary is not shooting an advertisement. The shooting scene may be full of situations at any time and any place. Once the state of the subject is up, the camera has to keep up.

Xu Tang walked to Guan Ming's side, his eyes were still gentle, but his tone was a little harsh: "Xiaoguan, there's no time to play tricks, you go."

Guan Ming is used to shooting advertisements, and rarely accepts such unaesthetic scenes.

No design, no details, no refinement, the light is too ugly.

He looked sideways and looked down at Xu Tang who was nearby.

Xu Tang took a small step back to distance himself from Guan Ming, without any emotion in his eyes.

"Either I come?"

Guan Ming frowned slightly, the hostility in his eyes couldn't be hidden and ran out.

"Need not."

The two were deadlocked.

And Porit stood alone, looking westward.

Large expanses of grasslands and green trees overlap and grow, the branches and leaves are connected to the sky, and the strong wind blows, like ocean waves, like rippling green waves.

The 73-year-old Bozhit recalled his former lover, the young and beautiful Amur, who was 18 years old.

In my memory is a small round face with red cheeks, always smiling, watching, with curiosity, shyness, and anticipation for everything in the future.

Dressed in red, standing in the sun and beckoning to himself.

Wind and sand hit Inner Mongolia in the 70s, eroding and surrounding the fragile Kanchuan Town.

The smile with two blushes was gradually buried, disappeared, and collapsed in the wind and sand.

"Then you come." Xu Tang glanced at Po Rit and then at Guan Ming.

He sighed in his heart, thinking about teaching this kid slowly in the future.

Forever and ever, one day, he will be able to personally discover, comprehend, and touch the charm of documentaries.

Thick or light, it will show romance, and it will reveal the truth. It is the kind of vitality, changeable, and agile charm.

Therefore, Xu Tang lowered his voice and moved closer, with anticipation in his eyes, his long and dense lower eyelashes sweeping his lower eyelids, as if exhaling into Guan Ming's ear: "Didn't you see it?"

Xu Tang seemed to be on purpose, but also seemed to be unintentional. He lengthened the ending and said softly to Guan Ming, "He misses his wife."

Guan Ming was silent.

Xu Tang then followed the temptation: "The atmosphere is so good now, don't think so much, let's shoot against the light."

Guan Ming's eyes were glued to Xu Tang's face like an appointment, for one second, two seconds.

"Okay, I'll listen to you, director."