My cousin asked me to go to Wuha, and Hanikezi stuck to me.

Hanikezi extended the video call by half an hour.

She pressed for details about the book.

Chen Yi picked out the parts that didn't involve confidentiality and talked to her about them.

She was so engrossed in listening that she didn't even notice her daughter tugging at her clothes.

Filming for "The Last Time" officially wrapped up at the end of November.

The final scene is set in a watch repair shop.

The camera zooms out smoothly from the close-up of the wall full of clocks, the soft clatter of turning gears filling the entire room.

Chen Yi shouted the order to call it a day.

A round of applause immediately erupted at the scene.

He folded up the folding chair in front of the monitor, walked over, and shook hands with each of the main creators to say goodbye.

The producer quickly came forward and thanked him for his hard work several times.

Chen Yi nodded in agreement, his expression remaining unchanged.

That evening, he sat alone on the balcony of his residence and finished half a bottle of beer.

Water droplets dripped from the bottle and slid down between my fingers, the coolness seeping into my palms.

Including this one, all three of my directorial feature films have been completed smoothly.

When each play ends, a sense of emptiness always washes over me.

It's like a gear that has been turning in your body for months suddenly stopping; the inertia remains, but the shaft is now empty.

He picked up his phone and sent a message to Xiao Fang, inquiring about the meeting time he had arranged with Director Zheng.

Xiao Fang replied very quickly, setting the time for next Wednesday at her studio in Beijing.

Finally, he added that he should rest for three days first.

Chen Yi stayed at home for two and a half days, but by noon on the third day, he couldn't sit still anymore.

He pulled out the manuscript of "Qin Gu" and read it carefully from beginning to end, filling the blank spaces with three pages of annotations in pencil.

Wednesday at 2 PM sharp.

Xiao Fang parked the car steadily outside Zheng Yiming's office.

This courtyard is located deep in a narrow alley around Houhai Lake. The facade is unassuming, with no sign hanging on the gray brick wall.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, you'll see two old locust trees standing in the courtyard, their branches and leaves blocking out most of the sunlight.

The receptionist led him through the central courtyard and into a simply furnished tea room.

A pot of freshly brewed Pu'er tea sits on the long table, steam rising from it.

Zheng Yiming was already present.

The old man was over sixty years old, with gray hair and a thin figure, wearing a light-colored navy blue cotton shirt.

He wasn't wearing glasses; his eyes were deep-set, and he had a calm expression.

Upon seeing Chen Yi enter the house, the old man stood up, stepped forward, and extended his hand.

"I've heard so much about you. You look much thinner than you do on the big screen."

Chen Yi reached out and shook hands.

The other person's palm was dry and warm, and their knuckles were clearly defined.

"You mentioned the interrogation scene at 47 minutes in the email. That scene was filmed nine times before it was perfect."

Zheng Yiming withdrew his hand and gestured for him to sit down.

"Nine times, what's wrong with the beginning?"

"In the first three takes, I couldn't find the right emotional focus. In the middle few takes, I was technically good, but there was still a trace of calculation in my expression. In the next two takes, I was about to get it right, but the rhythm of the final breath was off. Until the last take, I simply let go of all distractions and threw away all the pre-set routines."

Zheng Yiming picked up his teacup, took a sip, and his expression softened slightly.

"You've spent far more time behind the monitor than in front of the camera when you're directing. Going back to acting, will you be able to adjust?"

Chen Yi did not rush to respond.

He picked up the teacup; the tea was warm and palatable.

"To be honest, I'm inevitably a bit rusty."

Zheng Yiming raised an eyebrow.

"What kind of unfamiliarity?"

"Having gotten used to giving orders, it's inevitable that my thoughts will clash when I turn around and take orders from others. My first reaction is no longer 'How can I portray the character thoroughly?' but rather 'Would it be better to change the camera angle?' When the director's approach and the actor's approach collide, it takes some effort to suppress the director's mindset."

"Can you control it?"

"I can handle it. I started out as an actor, so my intuition is still there. It's just that I've been directing so many films over the years, so it takes a bit more effort to switch channels."

Zheng Yiming placed his hands flat on the edge of the table.

"I have strict rules when it comes to choosing people, and I never look at those assembly-line reports. The number of fans or their commercial value ranking are useless to me. I only focus on two things. Whether you really let down your guard in front of the camera, and how many layers you can reveal after you let down your guard."

He twirled the teacup in his hand, his gaze falling on Chen Yi.

"I've seen all the previous takes of your interrogation. Not the final cut, but the rough footage your team used in the behind-the-scenes footage. You said the technique was excellent in the middle takes, and I agree. But do you understand why the last take was successful?"

"Fortunately, it wasn't deliberately staged."

"Not entirely. Fortunately, you completely relinquished that commanding presence you developed as a director. In the final take, with your hands empty, the camera could finally capture you. The hardest hurdle for an actor isn't technique, but being willing to let go."

After hearing these words, Chen Yi sat there quietly for a long time.

The old locust tree in the courtyard rustled in the wind, and dappled sunlight swayed gently on the table.

"How do you intend for me to handle the roles of the veteran craftsmen described in the book?"

Zheng Yiming shook his head.

"I never teach actors how to act; you have to figure it out yourself."

"Not offering a single word of guidance?"

"I won't mention it at all. I'll just keep an eye on whether you've found it correctly. If you have, I'll call you over; if you haven't, we'll start over."

Chen Yi frowned and sized up the senior in front of him.

Over the course of thirty years, he has produced eleven masterpieces, each of which has become a benchmark.

This method of filming is completely different from that of others in the industry.

We do not teach, we do not practice, and we do not provide ready-made templates.

He throws the actors straight into the deep pool in the play, leaving them to swim to shore on their own.

Doing this would be a painful experience for anyone else.

For Chen Yi, it was an extremely pleasant situation.

When directing, he also prefers to give actors room to maneuver, because the best scenes are never forced upon them.

Now, if we were in each other's shoes and standing under the spotlight, and had met a photographer who understands the importance of leaving blank spaces, our paces would be perfectly in sync.

"I'll take it."

Zheng Yiming remained expressionless, as if he had already anticipated this answer.

"Your start date is set for February. Location shooting will take place in Yunnan and Japan, and the entire shoot will last four months. You will have four months to prepare."

"What do I need to prepare in advance?"

"Learn to make musical instruments."

Chen Yi hesitated for a moment.

"Are you really going to do it?"

"The old craftsman's palms are calloused from forty years of work. A play can be staged, but this craft can't be faked. You have to find a proper master craftsman to learn from for four months, and you have to be able to carve out a playable instrument by hand. If you can't do that, you can forget about joining the film crew."

Chen Yi readily nodded in agreement.

Stepping out of the studio, the aroma of roasted sweet potatoes wafted through the narrow alley.

Xiao Fang was leaning against the car door, flipping through his schedule, when he saw someone coming out and quickly stepped forward.

"How did the talks go?"

"It's settled, I'll be joining the crew in February."

"What conditions were offered?"

"They made me spend four months learning to make instruments. If I couldn't make an instrument that could produce sound, they wouldn't let me join the group."

Xiao Fang was stunned for a moment.

"Seriously? You really want me to personally plan wood and make a violin?"

"The director said that while camera tricks can be used for scenes, the real hand skills can't be faked."

Xiao Fang pondered for a moment, then suddenly burst out laughing.

"Alright, I'll go find out how to contact the luthier right away."

During the first two weeks after officially joining the crew, Chen Yi went through a solid adjustment period.

It's been too long since he's stood in front of someone else's camera as an actor.

The first day he stepped onto the set, the lights came on, and the clapperboard snapped shut in front of him. His first instinct was to turn around and look at the monitor.

The momentum of his body remained in the director's chair.

But Zheng Yiming never wasted his breath.

Before each scene was filmed, the old man would only say "Action!"

After the performance, the host either nods and says "It's done," or throws out a "Let's do it again" with a blank expression.

There are no lengthy explanations, no unnecessary elaborations, and no nitpicking about details or slowing down the pace.

The third day's filming was a long shot of repairing the guqin.

Chen Yi sat upright in front of the wooden table, his hand gripping the wood plane tightly, smoothing the curve of the instrument's neck with each stroke.

The hard-earned skills honed over four months came in handy at this moment. Wood shavings flew up and landed on the apron as the plane was lifted and lowered with steady, clean movements.

After the first performance, Zheng Yiming reviewed the playback on the monitor and only uttered two words.

"Let's start over."

The second time, Chen Yi changed his breathing rhythm and used less force when slashing.

"Let's do it one more time."

By the third time, Chen Yi had completely cleared his mind.

He focused all his attention on the wood grain that his palms touched, and with each step the plane took, the lines of the neck became smoother.

The dry, fragrant aroma of wood shavings filled my nostrils, warm and dry.

"Passed."

Zheng Yiming lifted the blackout cloth and came out, standing in front of Chen Yi and looking him over for a long time.

"What's the difference between this last one and the first two?"

"In the first two episodes, I played a piano repairman. This time, I'm seriously repairing a piano."

Zheng Yiming nodded and walked back behind the monitor.

Two weeks later, in the evening, the crew finished work and took a break. Zheng Yiming called the producer to his resting place.

Neatly stacked film canisters were piled up in the corner, and a schedule marked by hand was pasted on the wall.

The producer pushed open the door and saw the director leaning against the windowsill, flipping through the storyboard screenshots from that day. He then stood quietly to the side and waited.

Zheng Yiming put the screenshot into a folder, and without turning his head, he uttered a deep comment.

"He's a long-term talent in this field, whether he's standing in front of the camera or sitting behind the monitor."