novelraw Chapter 362: The Chief Director's Stunning Gamble
Chapter 362: The Chief Director's Stunning Gamble
Chapter 362: The Chief Director's Stunning Gamble
Professor Qian Wenhai fell into a long silence.
He took off his glasses, pressing his knuckles against the space between his eyebrows. This gesture betrayed the fierce internal struggle raging within him.
As an old-timer within the system, he understood the weight of Zhao Dingguo's words better than anyone.
This was no longer a debate about art, but a battle of stances.
His silence left Feng Gang completely isolated.
All the pressure now rested squarely on Feng Gang's shoulders alone.
Yet, Feng Gang was not crushed by this immense pressure.
He did not look back at his two wavering old friends.
Leaning back in his director's chair, the fanatical fervor faded from his face.
He turned around, his gaze piercing through the dim light, firmly locking onto Jiang Ci standing at the center of the stage.
The focus of the entire room converged once more on that young man.
Ignoring the undercurrents swirling behind him, Feng Gang posed a question that caught everyone off guard.
"Jiang Ci."
"Setting the script aside, tell me… what do you think 'the flavor of the New Year' is?"
The question was softly spoken, yet heavier than Zhao Dingguo's earlier roar.
Jiang Ci stood beside the peeling square table and did not answer immediately.
He lowered his head, looking at the deep knife mark on the table, then lifted his gaze to sweep across the empty audience seats.
After a moment, he spoke calmly.
"The flavor of the New Year…"
He was carefully choosing his words.
"It's probably… the stubborn insistence of setting out an extra bowl and chopsticks, even when you know that some seats will forever remain empty."
Zhao Dingguo, who was about to speak again, trembled, the finger he had raised mid-air wavering before falling limply.
The color drained rapidly from his face. His lips parted, but no sound emerged.
Those words had stirred up certain memories long buried in the dust of time.
Professor Qian Wenhai, who had been silent all along, finally raised his head.
He picked up the reading glasses from the table, carefully wiped them, and then put them on with great deliberation.
Behind the lenses, those cloudy old eyes now shone with unusual clarity.
Lin Wan felt the hairs on her arms stand on end.
Jiang Ci always had a way of using the calmest tone to utter the most heart-piercing words.
Feng Gang seized the turning point.
He spun around abruptly, facing Zhao Dingguo directly, his voice booming like a bell.
"Old Zhao! Did you hear that?!"
"This! This is what we need to convey!"
Feng Gang strode back to the monitor, his finger tapping heavily on the screen where Jiang Ci's serene face was displayed.
"Laughter and joy are not the entirety of the New Year! Neither is the whole family reuniting!"
"It's this 'yearning'! This stubborn insistence on doing something even when you know it's impossible—that is the most profound reunion rooted deep in our bones!"
"Remembering that empty seat, in itself, is a form of reunion!"
These words completely ignited Qian Wenhai.
The old professor stood up with a start, slamming a palm on the table.
"Well said! That's the root! Without this yearning, reunion is just a meal! With this yearning, even being alone… is still celebrating the New Year!"
Cornered by their combined verbal assault, Zhao Dingguo staggered back several steps. He had to grip the back of a chair to steady himself, his face ashen.
"Nonsense! You're twisting the concept!"
"I don't care what you say! If this program is submitted, it will absolutely not pass the review! If there are problems, who will take responsibility?"
Feng Gang's voice was not loud, but each word was firm and resonant.
"I will!"
He walked up to Zhao Dingguo, his expression terrifyingly calm.
"Old Zhao, let me give it to you straight."
"We are keeping this program. I will personally oversee the editing of a 'warm and fuzzy version' that absolutely meets the standards, as a backup."
Just as Zhao Dingguo was about to speak, Feng Gang raised a hand to stop him.
"But!"
Feng Gang's tone suddenly rose sharply, filled with the determination of someone betting everything.
"The 'original version' performed by Jiang Ci—I will send it for review as the primary option, without a single cut!"
"If the higher-ups hold us accountable, I, Feng Gang, will resign to take responsibility! I will not implicate either of you two or CCTV!"
This was a compromise, but more so, a forced checkmate disguised as a retreat.
He was using his own career as a wager,
Betting that after the decision-makers witnessed Jiang Ci's performance, which was practically a work of art,
They would no longer be able to stomach that mediocre backup version.
It was a stratagem so audacious it bordered on madness.
The studio fell into a dead silence.
Lin Wan looked at Feng Gang's resolute back.
She had never imagined that the treasure she had personally unearthed
Would one day become the most insane bargaining chip in the hands of a Spring Festival Gala director.
Half of her was filled with an almost uncontrollable pride,
Trembling at the thought that Jiang Ci's talent could compel a chief director to stake his entire career;
The other half was gripped by a bone-deep fear.
She understood better than anyone: if this gamble was won, Jiang Ci would ascend to the heavens in a single step, becoming a phenomenon-level artist;
But if it was lost, the consequences would also be borne by Jiang Ci, this newly crowned Film Emperor.
Feng Gang was betting his career, but her Jiang Ci was betting his future.
Zhao Dingguo's tense shoulders slumped.
His anger and his resolve both dissolved into a sigh at this moment.
He waved a weary hand, slumped into a seat, turned his head away, and refused to look at anyone.
"Do as you please…"
Though he didn't explicitly voice his support, this was tacit permission.
This was exactly what Feng Gang had been waiting for.
He turned and issued orders to his assistant, speaking at an extremely rapid pace, leaving no room for anyone to reconsider.
"Notify everyone: clear the set!"
"All non-essential personnel, evacuate Studio One immediately!"
"Lighting, camera crews, all teams to your positions! We are now recording the final version!"
The command given, the entire studio began operating with high efficiency.
Staff members hurriedly departed. The large doors slowly closed.
Inside the now-empty studio, only a few focused work lights and a handful of core personnel remained.
The atmosphere was solemn, like a secret ceremony.
Jiang Ci walked once more to the center of the stage and sat down on that old chair.
This time, there was no tentative exploration like during the initial performance.
His performance was even more restrained, refined to its absolute limit.
He still sat quietly. Only this time, he did not look at the empty bowl and chopsticks.
His gaze fell on the empty seat beside them.
As if someone was sitting there.
He even tilted his body ever so slightly, adjusting his posture,
As if afraid of crowding that invisible "family member."
Then, he reached out his hand and, on the surface of the table,
With deliberate, unhurried strokes, traced the outline of a bowl.
The movement was light, almost soundless.
But in the magnified close-up on the monitor, that finger trembling faintly in the air,
And that "bowl" drawn in imagination, brimming with longing,
Possessed a weight heavier than a thousand words.
He did not tap the rim of the bowl again, because the clearest sound existed only in memory.
For three minutes, the vast studio was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
The recording ended.
Feng Gang did not call "Cut."
He stared unblinkingly at the monitor, motionless, as if his entire being had been sucked into the screen.
Professor Qian Wenhai took off his reading glasses.
He gazed blankly at the solitary beam of light on the stage,
For a long while, before murmuring in a low voice a phrase no one else could make out.
Lin Wan led Jiang Ci out through a side door of the CCTV building.
Outside, the night was deep. A gust of cold wind hit them, refreshing their spirits.
On Jiang Ci's face was a kind of exhaustion that comes from being completely drained.
Those brief few minutes of performance had consumed a tremendous amount of his mental energy.
Lin Wan said nothing the entire way.
Only after they got into the car did she take a bottle of mineral water from her bag and silently hand it to him.