Huayu: I Have a Doraemon

Chapter 27 Greenlight Project

"Zhang Hua?"

Lin An was stunned for a moment, his eyes lighting up while he was also somewhat puzzled.

From submitting the script to today, it's only been three days at most.

Are the teachers at Beijing Film Academy really that efficient?

"What did he say on the phone?" Lin An pressed.

Doraemon scratched the back of his head:

"They only told you to go to the office building at noon on Friday, but didn't go into details about what it was about."

Lin An frowned slightly.

He didn't think it was necessary to go through all this trouble for a new script; it wasn't a trade secret.

Judging from this, the situation doesn't seem very good...

Lin An sighed and said, "I understand."

Doraemon noticed his unease and blinked his round eyes:

"Is there something you need?"

Lin An shook his head without saying anything more, and instead asked about Doraemon's situation.

"How about you? How's your day?"

Doraemon's eyes lit up, and he pulled a crumpled business card from his pocket with his round hand, presenting it to Doraemon like a treasure.

"The owner of the hardware store next door asked me to fix a motor for him. After I fixed it, he said he would come to me for any extra work in the future."

Lin An took the business card and looked at it over and over.

"Hongda Hardware" is located 50 meters south of the alley entrance. The owner's surname is Sun, and his handwritten phone number is crooked.

"How much?"

"50".

Repairing appliances is so damn profitable... Lin An's teeth ached so much that he immediately lost the desire to chat and turned to walk back to the next room.

He has a lot going on right now.

The script practice cannot stop. The theories from the cassette tapes are being poured into my brain, and if I don't digest them in time, they will be wasted.

Scriptwriting ability is not only related to points redemption, but also an asset for establishing oneself in the industry in the future.

The adaptation of "Shenmu" is also on the agenda.

Film and television scriptwriting follow completely different logics. Even with the memory of "Blind Shaft," replicating it is not an easy task.

Or rather, he cannot truly replicate it, but must instead engage in a considerable degree of secondary creation.

After all, he had never been to the Northwest mining area. If he wrote it exactly according to the original movie plot, he would be exposed immediately.

However, this matter can be put aside for now; the most urgent task is to get Tang Yu's line drawings.

Lin An ultimately couldn't bring himself to ask Doraemon to draw while he took the money.

He will most likely have frequent contact with Tang Yu in the future, so to avoid arousing suspicion, it's better for him to solidly master his painting skills.

With this in mind, Lin An walked to the corner of the room.

There were several cardboard boxes piled up there, containing odds and ends from the move, with the top one labeled "Miscellaneous Items".

He cleared away the documents piled on top of the cardboard box, lifted the lid, and revealed the "Future Store" underneath.

Lin An took it out and placed it on the desk.

Turn on the power, the screen lights up, and the product list starts scrolling.

Instead of browsing through the dazzling array of props, he directly opened the search bar and typed in a few words.

Page refreshed.

[One 24-hour dose]

Price: 30 points/bottle (60 capsules)

Effects: No need for sleep within 24 hours after taking it; you will have plenty of energy.

Note: Continuous use for more than 7 days may lead to drug resistance; it is recommended to use it intermittently.

Click "Redeem".

A blue light flashed from the projection port at the top of the machine, and a few seconds later, a palm-sized white medicine bottle fell from the halo of light.

Lin An reached out and caught it.

The medicine bottle was lighter than I expected; it was made of plastic and had an owl pattern printed on it.

Lin An unscrewed the bottle cap and poured out one pill.

The pills are pale blue, about the size of a fingernail, with a smooth surface, no markings, and a faint minty smell.

He hesitated for a few seconds, then tilted his head back and threw the pill into his mouth.

The next second, a cool sensation spread from my throat to my limbs.

My eyelids no longer felt heavy, the throbbing pain in my temples disappeared, and even the irritability caused by the hot weather was somewhat relieved.

"It really works!"

Lin An sighed, looked down at the medicine bottle in his hand, and gave a self-deprecating smile.

Nuclear-powered donkey, start!

……

……

United States.

At five o'clock in the morning, the sky in New York was just beginning to lighten.

In Midtown Manhattan, near Seventh Avenue, a gray-white office building stands in the morning mist, the Miramax sign still lit up.

The office at the end of the corridor on the third floor.

The door was ajar, and warm yellow lamplight shone through the crack.

Ben Affleck slumped in his office chair, legs propped up on the desk, sipping his coffee.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

His voice was hoarse, clearly indicating that he hadn't just woken up, but hadn't slept at all.

Across from the desk, Matt Damon, dressed in a casual T-shirt, yawned and said:

"This is the best solution I can think of."

Ben raised his hand to his forehead, looking helpless, and said:

"The method is indeed fine, but it's a bit too flashy, and the success rate is too low."

Matt shrugged. "It's only a million anyway, I think it's worth it."

In Hollywood, no actor doesn't want to be a producer.

Here, good actors are easy to find, but good scripts are scarce, and even the six major Hollywood studios often have their share of mishaps.

Countless small and medium-sized film studios have gone bankrupt due to failed investments.

If even these people are struggling, then newcomers like them will have to put in even more effort to get good scripts.

Thinking of this, Matt became earnest:

"Ben, there's a Chinese saying, I forget exactly what it is, something like buying cow bones with gold."

He replied irritably, "It's a sheep!"

Matt blinked, looking suspicious. "Is it a sheep?"

He nodded earnestly, indicating that he believed me.

Matt didn't seem to care and continued, "What's important isn't the script, but showing our desire for the script and the new director."

Ben muttered, "But this is too much..."

That's $100 million. If you include marketing and operations, the cost will be at least $300 million.

Even in New York City, where land is incredibly expensive, this could buy a decent apartment.

Matt, however, insisted: "I think it has value."

Ben said helplessly, "Okay, I'll do whatever you say, but I just hope I won't be overwhelmed by the heavy workload."

He quipped, "I think I might need a ton of coffee in the future if I'm an unknown screenwriter, regardless of age or race."

Matt laughed and scolded, "It's not that exaggerated."

He said, "Most unreasonable scripts will be eliminated in the first round, and we won't actually get many scripts."

After thinking about it, he didn't say anything more.

As a well-known Hollywood actor, he knows how rare a good script is.

It's incredibly difficult for new screenwriters to come up with something that will truly impress actors of their caliber.

Thinking about this, he started to feel bad about the money again.

Matt ignored his friend's complaints and looked down to open the proposal in front of him.

The Greenlight Project is open to all aspiring screenwriters, regardless of age or race, with the only requirement that no script has ever been filmed or produced.

The winner will receive $100 million in funding to produce the film, with him and Ben Affleck serving as producers and Miramax handling distribution.

Hopefully there will be a surprise.