I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema!

Of course, Seito Suzuki must also step forward.

"What's wrong with me?" Iwata Masao spread his hands, looking innocent. "I'm just concerned about the newcomers. After all, TV Tokyo isn't a place where just anyone can stay. What matters here is ability and performance. You can't just draw a few ridiculous pictures and get away with it."

He emphasized the words "ridiculous painting" and his eyes scraped at Nohara Hiroshi's face like a knife.

The smell of gunpowder in the air was so thick that it almost exploded.

Just then, the door of the Audit Department's office opened.

A woman in a sharp business suit and gold-rimmed glasses walked out. She looked to be in her thirties, with a delicate face, but her expression carried the coldness and dignity of someone who had long held a high position.

"What's the noise outside?" Her voice was not loud, but it immediately quieted the noisy corridor.

The arrogance on Iwata Masao's face immediately subsided a little, and he put on a warm smile: "Ah, it's Section Chief Takeshita. It's nothing, nothing, just catching up with Section Chief Suzuki."

"Section Chief Takeshita Ai." At this time, Suzuki Seito also lowered his head slightly to show his respect.

Nohara Hiroshi thought of the identity of this woman.

Love under the bamboo.

The head of the Animation Review Section of the Review Department, a woman known within the TV station for her ruthlessness and sharp eyesight.

She swept her eyes over the two groups of people, especially glancing at Iwata Masao with disgust, and said lightly: "If you want to reminisce, go to the lounge. This is the workplace. Give me the project materials to be reviewed, and you can go back."

Her tone brooked no room for argument.

Iwata Masao immediately handed over the exquisite "Ghost House Samurai" plan with a beaming smile, adding attentively, "Section Chief Takeshita, this is a project that Deputy Director Takada personally reviewed. Thank you for your concern."

Ai Takeshita took it expressionlessly, but when she heard the words "Deputy Director Takada", her eyebrows moved slightly.

"Section Chief Takeshita, here are our project plan and videotape."

Suzuki Seito also walked forward and handed over the plain videotape and a few pages of simple instruction documents.

Compared with Iwata's thick plan that was like a work of art, Suzuki's submission seemed pitifully shabby.

Ai Takeshita took the videotape, weighed it, and then took a look at the handwritten words on the cover - "Anzhiju".

She said nothing, just nodded at them, then turned and walked back to the office, leaving the grudges and expectations of both sides behind the door.

The door closed with a click.

Iwata Masao glanced at Suzuki Seito with a smug look and silently mouthed two words: "Garbage."

Then he walked away with his men, laughing.

Suzuki Seito's body was shaking slightly with anger. He stared at Iwata Masao's back, his fists clenched until the knuckles turned white.

"Section Chief." Nohara Hiroshi said softly, "Let's go back."

Suzuki Seito turned his head and saw Nohara Hiroshi's still calm face, and the raging anger in his heart was suppressed little by little.

He sighed deeply, patted Nohara Hiroshi's shoulder, glanced at the dejected Hashijita, and said in a deep voice, "Let's go."

But when Suzuki Seito turned around, his chest, which had been held high in front of Iwata Masao, suddenly slumped.

Especially when I think of Masao Iwata's obviously extremely exquisite plan and videotape.

In his heart...

There's a little more uncertainty.

Chapter 11 Watch

The Audit Department's office was so quiet that you could hear the faint sound of the air-conditioning vents.

Ai Takeshita sat behind her desk, on which were neatly arranged documents and stationery, as well as a large desktop computer with a small projection device connected to it.

She first picked up the "Ghost House Samurai" plan sent by Masao Iwata.

Opening the first page, you will see gorgeous renderings and lineup introduction.

Well-known novelists, veteran directors, popular actors... every name shines.

She flipped through the pages one by one. The plan was indeed very detailed, from the script outline to the storyboard sketches to the scene settings, it all exuded a sense of "no shortage of money" in its ambition.

However, when she turned to the budget page, she couldn't help but frown.

"Budget per episode, two million yen?"

She tapped the table lightly with her fingers, making a regular "tap-tap" sound.

This number is a bit outrageous for a late-night horror short.

In her experience, this amount of money is enough to produce a quarter of an episode of prime-time animation.

She could see that there were too many unnecessary expenses and too many extravagant gimmicks. This didn't seem like a project, but more like a money-burning party.

"The deputy director's project..." She whispered to herself, a hint of helplessness and annoyance flashing in her eyes.

In a TV station, professional judgment sometimes has to bow to authority. She can raise questions, but the final result is probably difficult to change.

She put the gorgeous plan aside and thought about Deputy Director Takada, who was always known as a greedy glutton. She had already made a preliminary judgment in her mind, and her eyes were filled with disgust.

Then, her eyes fell on the somewhat ordinary-looking plan and cheap videotape.

"Dark Chiju".

The name is quite interesting.

She picked up the few pages of simple instructions again, which only contained a brief project description and a budget table.

When she saw the total amount at the bottom of the budget sheet, her calm eyes showed real surprise for the first time.

She even suspected that she had seen it wrong, so she moved closer and looked again carefully.

Then she placed this budget sheet side by side with the budget sheet for "Ghost Shop Samurai" next to it.

two millions.

And... one million.

One is in heaven and the other is underground.

A playful expression of interest appeared on Takeshita Ai's face. She leaned back in her chair, her slender fingers gently stroking the videotape.

In this world full of lies, exaggeration and exchange of interests, the sudden appearance of something so "real" to the point of being crude aroused all her curiosity.

She picked up the videotape, stood up, walked to the projector in the corner of the office, and wanted to insert it to play it.

But think about it.

Ai Takeshita still hesitated and put "Anzhijuu" back on the table, picked up "Kibo Samurai" and inserted it into the projector.

His face looked a little ugly, as if he had to obey.

She returned to her chair and sat down, turning on the small projection control device next to the computer. With a click, the cartoon began to play on the screen hanging on the wall.

Along with a faint flute sound, the name of "Ghost House Samurai" also appeared on it.

The screen flickered, and the scene of "Ghost House Samurai" occupied the entire screen.

……

The texture of the picture is excellent, with a film-like graininess, combined with the carefully blended gloomy tones, which instantly brings people back to the Edo period when ghosts were rampant.

In the eerie ancient temple and the dim long street, warriors in heavy armor flashed by like ghosts, accompanied by shrill screams and the dull sound of blades entering flesh.

The first few minutes really created a top-notch horror atmosphere.

Ai Takeshita leaned forward slightly, her eyes behind her gold-rimmed glasses sharp and focused. Like an experienced hunter, she scrutinized the prey before her, assessing its every bit of value.

The sound effects, music, editing...all the technical aspects are first-class.

However, as the plot unfolded, Takeshita Ai's body, which had been leaning forward, slowly leaned back against the back of the chair.

The concentration in her eyes was gradually replaced by a kind of commonplace indifference.

The outline of the story was almost exactly as she had expected.

A warrior whose wife was poisoned to death because of her adultery, could not help but harbor resentment and turned into a demon, indiscriminately killing passers-by on the streets at night.

Then, a compassionate wandering monk and a powerful Yin-Yang master met by chance and decided to join forces to subdue the demon.

The battle scenes are gorgeous, with the glow of talismans and the cold light of samurai swords complementing each other, and the special effects burned a huge budget.

In the end, the evil ghost was defeated. Before it dissipated, his hideous face regained its former handsomeness, and he recounted his grievances with tears of blood.

The monk teamed up with Yin Yang Si to find the adulterous couple. They used Buddhism and Shikigami to make them see the miserable state of the evil ghost, and finally made them repent and confess in front of the evil ghost's grave.

End of story.

Very complete, very standard, and very... boring.

Ai Takeshita pressed the stop button, the buzzing sound in the projector stopped suddenly, and the office returned to silence in an instant.

She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyebrows gently.

The bloody scenes and shocking sound effects just now did cause her adrenaline to fluctuate, and her face looked a little pale.

But it's like riding a roller coaster. It's thrilling, but once it stops, nothing is left except a moment of dizziness.

She could see dozens of versions of this kind of story in various business plans in a year.

Change the soup but not the dressing.

It's nothing more than replacing the warrior with a princess, the monk with a shrine maiden, and the poisoning with a frame-up.

The core is always the love, hate and vengeance between men and women, which is finally forcibly sublimated with the theme of "letting go" and "forgiveness".

"Two million yen..." Takeshita Ai looked at the exquisite plan, a hint of sarcasm curling up at the corner of her mouth: "Just to tell a clichéd story that even street rakugo artists are too lazy to tell a second time?"

Money can indeed buy fancy packaging.

But underneath the packaging, if the soul is empty, it's just a more expensive piece of trash.

She pushed the proposal for "Ghost House Samurai" aside, as if it was stained with something unpleasant.

Then her eyes fell on the cheap videotape.

"Dark Chiju".

The three handwritten and somewhat childish Chinese characters on the cover, in Takeshita Ai's eyes, now revealed a simple and unpretentious sincerity.

She picked up the videotape; it was so light, the plastic casing even had some rough edges.