Rebirth 02, the Celestial Being Told Me to Stop Pretending

At 2 PM the next day, Lu Chen appeared at the basement door on time.

He brought two servings of braised pork and six cans of Yanjing beer. Xing Aina's eyes lit up when she saw the braised pork.

"You do have some sense." She picked up the bowl of braised food and stirred it with her chopsticks. "You're better than Ning Hao, who only knows how to buy instant noodles."

"I heard it, I heard it," Ning Hao muttered from the side.

For the next three days, the three of them rewrote the script from beginning to end in the basement.

The process of revising the script, in Ning Hao's words, was more tiring than making a movie.

Xing Aina is responsible for the comedic pacing and character dialogue.

Her method of revision was drastic. She first crossed out all the lines, then asked Lu Chen what he wanted to express in this scene, and after Lu Chen finished speaking, she rewrote it.

After writing it down, she would have Ning Hao read it aloud. If Ning Hao laughed as he read it, it meant the lines were correct. If Ning Hao didn't react after reading it, she would cross it out and rewrite it.

Ning Hao was responsible for the narrative structure and visual rhythm.

He pasted a large sheet of white paper on the wall and used a marker to draw the key points of each scene, marking the timeline, character movement, and emotional curves.

He drew quickly, but revised even faster. Every time Xing Aina changed a line, he had to readjust the corresponding rhythm.

Lu Chen was in charge of overall control.

He watched the two men make changes, occasionally interjecting with a comment.

But each of his interjections was crucial, either pointing out a logical flaw, reminding viewers of a key moment in the scene, or suggesting that the scene didn't need dialogue and should be told through visuals.

The three of them had an argument the following night.

It all started with Dao Ge's fate.

In Lu Chen's script, Dao Ge falls from a height and dies.

This is the culmination of the entire multi-narrative structure, where the three storylines converge, and all coincidences transform into destiny.

Xing Aina disagreed.

"Dao-ge can't die." She slammed the red pen on the table.

"Why?" Lu Chen asked.

"Death is the end. Living is more ironic than dying." Xing Aina stood up and walked to the whiteboard.

"Think about it, a guy like Dao Ge, who makes a living by deceiving people his whole life, ended up being deceived himself, but he's still alive. He has to face the fact that he was tricked by someone even more ruthless. That's the dark humor. What's death? Death is a relief, not a punishment."

Lu Chen shook his head: "Dao Ge's death was structural. Three lines collided here, and his death was the inevitable result of that collision. If he hadn't died, this convergence point would have dissipated."

"Then let's change the convergence point," Xing Aina said.

"It can't be changed," Lu Chen said. "The rhythm of the whole film is driven by that point. If you remove that point, all the groundwork laid before will be wasted."

The two stared at each other, neither willing to give in.

Ning Hao watched from the side, holding his third can of Yanjing beer, without saying a word.

There was a silence of about thirty seconds.

"What if," Ning Hao began.

"When Dao Ge fell, the audience thought he was dead, but he didn't?"

Lu Chen and Xing Aina both looked at him at the same time.

"Dao Ge falls from a height, the camera shows a wide shot of the fall, then cuts to black."

Ning Hao drew a line on the whiteboard with his finger. "The audience thought he was dead. But in the end, Xie Xiaomeng encountered a man covered in bandages in the bathroom. It was Dao Ge. He was still alive, but he was in a terrible state."

Xing Aina thought for a moment and said, "That works too. But I'll have to write the lines for the scene where Xie Xiaomeng encounters him."

"Okay." Ning Hao glanced at Lu Chen.

Lu Chen did not answer immediately.

He went through the ending of "Crazy Stone" from his previous life in his mind. Dao Ge really died, falling off the overpass. That scene was the most somber moment in the whole film.

But Ning Hao's suggestion was no less good, and even had more appeal.

"Okay," Lu Chen said, "do it Ning Hao's way."

But for the scene where Dao Ge falls, I wanted a long take, showing him falling from his perspective, then the screen goes black. The audience has to genuinely believe he's dead for the final twist to have power.

"A long shot?" Ning Hao's eyes lit up. "Sure. I'll draw the camera positions."

Xing Aina sat back down, picked up her pen, and began writing the scene of Xie Xiaomeng and Dao Ge in the toilet.

The argument lasted forty minutes, but after it was resolved, the three of them were even more in sync.

Lu Chen discovered that Xing Aina wasn't the kind of screenwriter who believed everything she said was right; she was willing to listen to reasons, as long as the reasons were strong enough.

Ning Hao was not just an assistant director who could only draw storyboards; his understanding of narrative was deeper than Lu Chen had expected.

At four o'clock in the morning on the third day, Xing Aina finished revising the last page of dialogue and threw the red pen on the table.

"It's over."

Ning Hao turned away from the whiteboard, looked at the structural diagram filled with arrows and annotations, and rubbed his eyes.

"Let me see..." He went through the timeline from beginning to end, but stopped abruptly halfway through. "Wait, in the scene where Dao and Mike are in the bathroom, you deleted all their lines?"

"right."

"How did you act in that scene without any lines?"

"No need to act." Xing Aina picked up her fourth cup of tea, which had already gone cold, and took a sip.

"Two men are in the toilet, one squatting on the toilet and the other washing his hands, neither looking at the other, but the audience knows they're about to bump into each other—that's comedy. If you force them to talk, that's called crosstalk."

Ning Hao opened his mouth, then closed it again. He turned to look at Lu Chen.

Lu Chen nodded: "She's right. This scene can be conveyed through visuals alone."

"Look," Xing Aina rolled her eyes at Ning Hao, "even a twenty-one-year-old like him understands more than you do."

"I—" Ning Hao was choked and couldn't speak. Finally, he managed to squeeze out, "Your revised lines are even rougher than mine."

"It should be rough," Xing Aina said. "These people aren't cultured to begin with. You expect them to speak classical Chinese? Hei Pi is a bricklayer, Dao Ge is a gangster, and Si Yan is a commoner. They have to speak roughly. Roughness is what makes it real."

"But it can't be completely rough either."

"Who said it's all rough around the edges?" Xing Aina pointed to page seventeen. "Do you think Dao Ge's line, 'I'm a very principled person,' is rough?"

Ning Hao glanced at it but didn't say anything.

"That's a great line," Xing Aina said. "It looks simple, but when it comes out of the mouth of a gangster in that scene, it's both funny and scary."

That's true dark humor; you laugh, then a chill runs down your spine.

Ning Hao looked at her for two seconds, then smiled.

Xing Aina smiled too.

The two exchanged a glance; their unspoken understanding needed no words.

Lu Chen watched this scene unfold.

Xing Aina berated Ning Hao, saying his script was written with his feet, to which Ning Hao retorted that his revised lines were even rougher than his, but after the revisions, they both laughed. This kind of relationship is more than just husband and wife; it's also about being comrades-in-arms.

He suddenly remembered Liu Yifei.

I remember her standing in the stairwell, her nose red from the cold, handing him 500,000 yuan. I remember her eyes shining like lamps when she said, "You trust me, so I trust you."

Xing Aina and Ning Hao are a devoted couple. He and Liu Yifei are still just...

Forget it, that idea is too cruel.

Lu Chen stood up, walked to the table, and read through the final version of the script from beginning to end.

Three groups of people, a piece of jade, and a toilet.

The steps are interconnected and executed with meticulous care. Each line advances independently, yet they collide precisely at key junctures.

The humor isn't forced in; it grows naturally from the structure, making the audience laugh and exclaim how brilliant it was, rather than forgetting it immediately.

This is the script he wanted.

"Sister Xing," Lu Chen said, closing the script.

"This script is worth three million."

Xing Aina was tidying up the red pens and scraps of paper on the table when she heard this and paused.

"You," she said without looking up, "speak like you're reciting lines, every sentence hitting the mark perfectly."

"Occupational disease".

"What kind of occupational hazard is that? You're only twenty-one."

"It's what I saved up in my past life."

Xing Aina looked up at him, a hint of inquiry in her eyes, but she didn't ask any further questions.

She's not the kind of person who likes to pry into things; she only cares about whether the script is good or not, whether the acting is right or not, and nothing else matters to her.

"Alright," Xing Aina crumpled the waste paper into a ball and threw it into the trash can.

"The script is finished, you guys go film it now. Don't waste my lines."

"No," Lu Chen said.

He picked up the script and walked out of the basement with Ning Hao.

"We're going to Chongqing next month," Lu Chen said. "Tell Sister Xing in advance to come too."

"Where is she going?"

"We change the lines on set," Lu Chen said. "When shooting a comedy, the lines have to follow the actors' state of mind; they can't stay unchanged. She has to be on set keeping an eye on things."

Ning Hao glanced at him and then nodded.

When the two walked out of the community gate, it was already dawn.

The early morning buses on the North Third Ring Road have started operating. Buses wheezed past them, their windows packed with people rushing to work.

Lu Chen stood by the roadside and took a deep breath of the cold air in the early morning.

The script, funding, and team are all in place; now all that's missing are the actors.

The main cast will definitely be the same. International thief Mike Lu Chen will play himself, though he won't have many appearances.

Lu Chen handed the cast list to Wang Yan, told him to find the actors, and then left it to his own devices.

Once the actors have coordinated their schedules, the start date for filming can be set.

He took out his phone and sent Zhang Songwen a text message:

"The final draft of the script is complete. We'll have a meeting next week."

Ning Hao, who was watching from the side, suddenly said, "Lu Chen, do you know why I agreed to you in just 15 minutes?"

"Because the script is good."

"No." Ning Hao looked at the brightening horizon in the distance.

"It's because when you say, 'There are no competitors in this genre on the market,' there's a light in your eyes. I've seen that light before; I saw it in the mirror when I was filming 'Thursday, Wednesday.'"

Lu Chen remained silent.

"But your light is brighter than mine."

After Ning Hao finished speaking, he turned and walked towards the bus stop. "I'm leaving. I'm going back to sleep. My wife said she'll lock the door if I don't go back soon."

"Wait a minute." Lu Chen called out to Ning Hao, "Go to Shancheng to scout the area first, and take your sister-in-law with you."

"That's called Kanjing."

Ning Hao left, and Lu Chen watched his retreating figure.

Ning Hao may seem rough around the edges, but he's actually more meticulous than anyone else. No wonder Xing Aina was willing to invest all her savings in him.

He turned and walked in another direction, passing the roasted sweet potato stall. The stall owner was packing up, and the charcoal in the stove was still glowing red.

Lu Chen bought a roasted sweet potato and held it in his hands to warm it.

The sweet potatoes were very hot, but very sweet.

He took a bite and remembered the line Xing Aina had changed: "I'm a person who values ​​rules the most."

He is the least rule-abiding.

But rules are always set for those who follow them.