It's just that they have money.

Xiang Pingping took another stroll around the furniture market.

This time she looked much more carefully than before; it wasn't just a casual glance without buying, but a genuine and serious selection.

Fang Chen had sent the sales assistant away, and the three of them shopped comfortably.

Xiang Pingping stopped in front of a dining table. It was made of solid wood, dark in color, with a wide tabletop and six chairs. It was similar to the one she had seen that morning, but much cheaper.

"This one is fine," Xiang Pingping said.

Fang Yuan walked over, looked at it, and tapped on the table.

Just listen to the sound.

He asked Pingping, "Do you like it?"

"like".

Fang Yuan didn't ask any more questions.

My wife says she likes it, and that's enough.

When Xiang Pingping came out of the furniture store, she was holding a stack of orders in her hand. The beds, sofas, dining tables, and wardrobes were all intended for her new home.

Fang Chen asked her, "Should we keep the old furniture?"

Xiang Pingping folded the orders neatly and stuffed them into her bag.

"Keep a few things. The desk your grandfather left behind is still usable, the chair you used to do your homework when you were little is also kept, and the cabinet set your father and I made when we got married is also kept as a memento. We don't need the rest."

Fang Chen didn't say much.

It's good that Mom can let go of those old things that have little value and are no longer useful.

The purpose of bringing her to the furniture store has been achieved.

By the time I got home, it was almost dark.

After dinner, the family of three went inside to watch TV.

An old TV was playing a spy drama. Fang Chen didn't care much about the plot; he was mainly chatting with his parents.

"This actress is quite pretty."

Xiang Pingping commented while eating sunflower seeds.

Fang Chen glanced at the screen, which showed a female spy. She was indeed good-looking and had exquisite makeup, but her expression was stiff.

She was reciting her lines; her mouth was moving, and her eyes were moving, but Fang Chen couldn't tell what she was acting.

They weren't acting; they were making expressions.

Moreover, it was a very deliberate expression, so obvious that it was an act.

Fang Chen looked at it for a while longer, and the more he looked, the more something seemed off.

It's not the actors' fault.

He recognized the actor; he had previously had some outstanding works and roles.

Clearly, she didn't choose to act this way in the drama; the director made her act this way.

The expressions and emotions were spot-on, but the character was lifeless.

Xiang Pingping cracked open a sunflower seed, and the shell fell to the ground at her feet with a soft thud.

"This actor didn't act well."

She pointed to the man on the screen who was speaking. The man was wearing a military uniform, sitting behind a table with his hands on the table, motionless, like a plastic mannequin placed behind a counter.

He was reciting his lines, which were very long, and he recited them fluently, but his whole demeanor was stiff.

His shoulders didn't move, his hands didn't move, and his eyes barely moved.

"He's playing an official," Xiang Pingping said again. "Officials aren't like that, are they?"

Fang Chen asked, "What are officials like?"

Xiang Pingping thought for a moment and said, "I've never met any high-ranking officials, but I do know the town leaders. When they talk to you, they look you in the eye and lean forward, not sit up straight like this."

Fang Chen glanced at the screen again.

Xiang Pingping is right.

The actor playing the official is not doing his pose correctly.

He was sitting too upright, and his hands were too formally placed. A person who has been in officialdom for over a decade, sitting behind his desk facing his subordinates, shouldn't be in this posture.

The scene then cut to another scene where the two main actors are having a conversation.

The camera cuts to the actor as he speaks.

When the actor speaks, the camera cuts to that actor.

Shot-reverse shot, the most basic shooting technique.

Or rather, there was no filming technique.

Several extras stood there in the background, motionless.

They are not actors; they are props.

They didn't dare to move unless the director told them to.

The director probably never intended for them to move.

Perhaps in the director's mind, background characters are just background; they can just stand there and that's enough. The audience won't pay attention to them.

As he looked at the script, Fang Chen thought of his film and television company and the script that the screenwriting team at Firefly Pictures was working on.

He suddenly thought of a question, a question he had never considered before.

"The Silent Witness" is about to start filming.

To create high-quality works and build a reputation, relying solely on actors is definitely not enough.

Even the best actors need guidance from directors to bring out their full potential.

Otherwise, like the actress on TV right now, she has acting skills, but they can't be shown in this drama.

No matter how good the script or how dedicated the actors are, this is what will come out if it's directed by a director who only knows how to shoot single-shot and reverse-shot sequences.

The characters are standing still, the dialogue is read from a script, and the background characters are just standing there.

The entire play lacks breath, rhythm, and life.

But the audience will watch.

Even a mother-in-law like Xiang Pingping, who doesn't have high standards for TV drama quality, would still complain when she saw these unreasonable parts.

Not to mention viewers who have higher expectations for TV series.

Fang Chen suddenly realized that he didn't know what kind of director was a good director, nor did he know where to find good directors.

So far, he only knows Wang Zengping.

However, everyone has their own expertise. Wang Zengping previously directed long-form dramas and had never worked on suspense films before. Now that he has transitioned to film, he may not be able to succeed in directing short suspense dramas.

In this industry, there are many types of directors: some are formally trained, some are self-taught and have worked their way up, some switched from making political films, some switched from making documentaries, some became famous for making short videos, and some have made TV dramas their whole lives and no one knows them.

Fang Chen didn't recognize them.

He didn't know who made a good film or who didn't, or whose style suited "The Silent Witness" and whose didn't.

Previously, Gao Jie said that he would find the director after everything else was prepared, but now he feels that this is probably not possible.

Fang Chen picked up his phone and glanced at the time; it was a little past eight.

It's not too late.

He opened his contacts, found Wang Zengping's name, and sent him a text message: "Director Wang, you know many directors in the industry, do you know anyone who is good at making suspense films? Someone younger, with independent directing experience."

Xiang Pingping handed Fang Chen another handful of sunflower seeds. Fang Chen took them and placed them on his lap. The spy drama on TV was still playing.

Fang Chen didn't answer; he was checking the director's resume on TV.

As expected, the only publicly available information is about this one work.

They are either directors who are just starting out as independent directors, or they have previously worked as assistant directors or in other roles and lack directing skills.

Either this person was just randomly brought in by the production team to do the work, and no ability was required.

A moment later, Wang Zengping replied: "What kind of filming are you looking for?"

"Suspense. A twelve-episode short drama; the script is almost finished."

Wang Zengping replied faster this time: "I'll help you screen a few. You send the scripts to them, and whoever feels a connection can take the role."

Fang Chen replied with an "okay" and placed his phone on his lap.

Xiang Pingping cracked the sunflower seeds at a moderate pace, the shells falling to the ground with a very soft sound.

Fang Yuan leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the television, but Fang Chen felt that he wasn't watching; he was thinking about something else.

Perhaps she's wondering if she'll be comfortable living with her son after the old house is demolished, or if she'll cause him trouble.

After the two episodes of the TV show finished airing, Fang Chen got up to take a shower.

This might be the last night he spends in the old house.