We asked you to make an anti-corruption film, but you made one in the name of the people!

In mid-October, the ginkgo leaves in Yanjing turned the entire street yellow.

Lin Mo spent three days in the editing room, giving a rough cut of "Article 20" to set the tone.

Old Zhao came in twice to bring food, once Kung Pao Chicken and once Tomato and Egg Noodles. Lin Mo ate every last bite each time—editing videos really takes a lot of energy.

The phone rang.

Caller ID: Han Sanping.

Lin Mo answered the call.

"Third Master."

"Director Lin, did I disturb you?" Han Sanping's voice was still that unhurried Beijing accent.

"No, no, please tell me."

"Wen Muye has finished editing the entire film of 'Dying to Survive'." Han Sanping's tone carried a hint of undisguised satisfaction. "I watched it in the editing room last night, from beginning to end, for two hours straight, without getting up once in between."

Lin Mo put down the mouse and turned the chair around: "What do you think?"

"you guess."

"Third Master, please don't test me."

Han Sanping chuckled on the other end of the phone and said, "Of all the domestic films I've seen in recent years, none have left me sitting there in a daze for ten minutes after watching them—'Dying to Survive' is the first."

Lin Mo didn't respond, waiting for him to continue.

"Wen Muye is indeed a talented young man, but he himself said that without you as the producer overseeing things, half of the film's appeal would be lost." Han Sanping paused. "You helped him revise the script seven or eight times, and you recommended the actors, Wang Chuanjun and Lu Shouyi—to tell you the truth, when I saw him lying on the hospital bed smiling at Xu Zheng, even though I'm over sixty, my nose got teary."

Lin Mo smiled and said, "Third Master, it's because Chuanjun acted so well."

Has the release date been set?

"That's exactly what I was going to tell you." The sound of flipping through a calendar came from Han Sanping's end. "It's mid-October now, and post-production still needs another month or two of polishing—color grading, audio mixing, and getting it approved. I'm planning to set it for March next year, but we'll need to work out the exact date later."

"March?" Lin Mo thought for a moment. "The Spring Festival season just ended, so it's not a particularly popular period."

"Yes, I deliberately avoided the Spring Festival release window," Han Sanping said. "Dying to Survive is not a family-friendly film. It's not appropriate to have an entire family watch Cheng Yong selling fake drugs and Lü Shouyi undergoing chemotherapy after finishing their New Year's Eve dinner. In March, the festive atmosphere of the Spring Festival has passed, and the audience has calmed down and can get into the film."

"Third Master's consideration is very thorough."

"There's one more layer." Han Sanping paused. "In March, the higher authorities usually release some policy documents related to people's livelihoods. The subject matter of 'Dying to Survive'—medical care, medical insurance, and imported drugs—is perfectly timed. I've already spoken to the theaters, and the screening schedule won't be bad."

Lin Mo nodded, even though Han Sanping couldn't see him.

"By the way, how's the filming of Article 20 going?" Han Sanping asked.

"It's almost over, there's one last big show to come."

"That hearing with Ray Kayan?"

How did you know?

"How could I not know that your Supreme People's Procuratorate's official WeChat account posts behind-the-scenes footage every day?" Han Sanping chuckled.

Lin Mo was momentarily speechless: "..."

"Alright, that's enough. I'll have someone send you a copy of the finished film. Take a look when you have time, and let me know if you have any thoughts." Han Sanping paused for a moment. "Dying to Survive will be released in theaters next March. You have to come to the premiere."

"Third Master, I'm just a producer—"

"Don't give me that." Han Sanping interrupted him. "If you keep being modest, I'll have someone change the end credits. The words 'Producer Lin Mo' will be in big, bold letters. Let's see if you'll back down then."

Lin Mo laughed out loud: "Alright, alright, whatever you say, Third Master."

After hanging up the phone, Lin Mo slammed his phone on the table, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes for a while.

March.

There are still more than five months to go.

After the release of "Dying to Survive," topics such as healthcare, medical insurance, and imported drugs will be brought up again for discussion.

Cheng Yong, Lü Shouyi, Liu Sihui—these names will be remembered by tens of millions of people.

There will be arguments, there will be questions, there will be statements from relevant departments, and policy documents will be brought up again for discussion.

A two-hour movie can have far more impact than it has on itself.

Lin Mo suddenly remembered what he had said to Zhao Liying—Hao Xiuping paid the price with her own life.

Article 20 is also included.

What Han Ming said at the hearing was like pulling the words "legitimate self-defense" out of the law and throwing them in front of everyone—look carefully, this is not just words on paper, it's a matter of human life.

He picked up his phone and sent a WeChat message to Lao Zhao.

"I made arrangements with the leaders of the court beforehand for the extras at the final hearing—the prosecutors from Yongcheng Procuratorate will act themselves."

Old Zhao replied instantly: "??? A real prosecutor is staging a hearing?"

"Yes. Let the people sitting in the hearing room be the ones who are there—judges, prosecutors, lawyers, people's representatives—the kind of atmosphere they want can't be faked by extras."

Old Zhao was silent for several seconds before replying, "Director Lin, your move was brilliant."

......

Late October.

On the set of "Article 20", the last scene.

The set wasn't a makeshift structure—it was a temporary conversion of the actual conference room of the Yongcheng County Procuratorate.

The national emblem was hung in the center, and the tables and chairs were arranged according to the layout of a hearing, with the seats arranged in a fan shape. The host's seat and the recorder's seat were in front, and the audience seats were in the back.

Old Zhao brought people over to set it up the night before.

I went through every corner, checking the lights, the sound, and the camera positions.

Lin Mo had told him that the final scene couldn't be distorted in any way—because the people sitting below were all real prosecutors.

At 7:30 a.m., civil servants from Yongcheng County Procuratorate arrived one after another.

They lined up in the corridor to sign in, some were chatting, some were eating breakfast—the aroma of steamed buns, soy milk, and egg pancakes filled the corridor.

Old Zhao stood at the door, greeting everyone who came in, like a ticket inspector.

"Section Chief Wang, please sit in the third row, on the left."

"Sister Li, you're in the first row of the recording booth, so there will be someone pushing the camera around."

"Chief Prosecutor Zhang, please sit in the middle; the camera will focus on you from the front."

When Lin Mo arrived, the conference room was already mostly full.

He glanced around and immediately understood—the faces of these people didn't have the kind of expression that extras could convincingly portray.

A prosecutor who has worked for ten years—his posture, the way he flips through documents, the look in his eyes when he looks at the podium—it's ingrained in his very being, it doesn't need to be taught.

Lei Jiayin arrived even earlier than Lin Mo.

He sat in a folding chair next to the podium, clutching several sheets of printed paper in his hand—Han Ming's lines from the hearing.

He spent the whole night memorizing it last night. It wasn't that he couldn't memorize it, but that he memorized it too many times. He had to stop and catch his breath every time he memorized it.

Lin Mo walked over and sat down next to him.

"nervous?"

Lei Jiayin looked up, her eyes slightly dark-rimmed but bright: "Director Lin, do you know what I was thinking just now?"

"What?"

"I'm thinking—what if Han Ming loses this case?" Lei Jiayin looked down at the script in her hand. "If the hearing is over, the vote doesn't pass, Wang Yongqiang is sentenced, and Hao Xiuping's jump was in vain—will Han Ming ever dare to stand in court again and say that he can't yield to injustice?"

Lin Mo was silent for two seconds: "So your performance here isn't about convincing the people at the hearing—you're convincing Han Ming himself."

Lei Jiayin looked at him, his lips moved, and then he nodded emphatically.

"Get ready." Lin Mo patted him on the shoulder.

At eight o'clock, everyone was in place.

Old Sun stood at the back of the conference room, carrying his equipment, with the main camera pointed at the podium and the hearing panel.

Liu Cixin adjusted the side lighting to a cool white—not the golden warm light of courtroom scenes, but the slightly cool white of incandescent bulbs, like any real government meeting room.

The scope has also arrived today.

He had no role; he was not part of the entire hearing drama.

But he still came, carrying that thermos, and sat in the far corner of the audience.

He said he wanted to see Lei Jiayin's performance in person.

Zhang Yi, Xu Yajun, Gao Ye, Ma Li, Zhao Liying—all the actors were there.

Zhao Liying, dressed casually, sat in the audience by the window, clutching a tissue in her hand until her knuckles turned white—she wasn't filming, she was genuinely nervous.

In the first row of the hearing panel, Zhang Guoqing, the chief prosecutor of Yongcheng County Procuratorate, straightened his tie and whispered to the deputy chief prosecutor next to him, "This setup is even more serious than when we hold our own procuratorial committee meeting."

Old Zhao took a deep breath and raised the walkie-talkie.

"Article 20 - Scene 128, First Shot, First Take, All Units, Please Take Note -"

Stagehand Xiao Liu raised the clapperboard, his hand trembling slightly.

"Snapped!"