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Moe Academy Chapter 026 The First Intimate Contact¡ªMovie

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    (Everyone always says that the cute protagonist¡¯s IQ is not worthy of his achievements. In fact, this is not the case. Chen Jingrun is still a person who doesn¡¯t distinguish between left and right, and can¡¯t find a home when he leaves home. Can you say that his IQ is not high? Geniuses are often only in one field.  , those who are multi-field are not geniuses, but all-rounders, who can do everything. <For example, if you write a script in one hour, how much does computer coding cost in one hour? 1,000? 2,000? 3,000? How much does it cost to write by hand?>,  That person is either a cheater or the son of God. There has never been any logical problem in Ah Zi¡¯s head.)

    In the past, Song Qian always believed that stars were very far away from his life, that they were the kind of existence that was beyond reach and could only be looked up to by people who loved and pursued beauty and illusion. He never chased stars. Although he often watched music and movies,  But there is no preference.

    Recently, Lee Chang-dong, the head of Korean movies, is his mentor. He has fallen in love with the most famous actress in Korea for no reason. Now that he thinks about it, he feels that these figures that can only be seen on the screen or in movies are gradually disappearing.  Into his sight, including his sister, Song Qian.

    Ye Weiyang was in a daze. After being separated from her sister Qian, Song Qian returned to Zhongwu Road without knowing why. He mechanically took out the key, opened the door and walked in.

    Several dim cabinet lights in the room were on. Walking up the stairs to the second floor, Song Qian discovered that there was still light in Li Cangdong's studio.

    "Brother?" Song Qian walked into the studio cautiously and found Li Cangdong sitting on his desk, immersed in thought. A wisp of filaments appeared from the cigarette in his hand, rising slowly, and finally lingering in the sky, dissipating into a hazy, cigarette butt.  The tail part has been half burned, but the ashes are still lingering and have not fallen.

    Li Cangdong put down his pen, put his half-burned eyes in the full ashtray, and rubbed his temples: "Qianqian is back?"

    "Are you working? Did I disturb you?" Song Qian walked over, sat on the chair in front of the desk and looked at the manuscript on the table curiously.

    "No, I'm writing a script. There are some plots that I haven't thought through. What, are you interested?" Li Cangdong picked up the half-cup of tea that had gone cold on the side, took a sip and said with a smile.

    "Write a script, "Poetry"? What's the name of the script?" After Song Qian got Li Cangdong's tacit approval, he humbly picked up the manuscript and looked at it carefully.

    Li Cangdong sighed softly, picked up the cigarette on the side, took out a cigarette and handed it to Song Qian. Song Qian waved his hand, then lit one himself, walked a few steps to the window and said, "Well, I've written it.  It has been more than a year, and it is being revised now. It is planned to be filmed at the end of this year. I want to participate in Cannes next year. I am very sorry that I did not win the best screenplay last time."

    Li Cangdong is not the kind of prolific director, nor is he the kind of director with very brilliant shooting techniques. He is more of a film novelist than a director. In his movies, he is often the most bland.  The scenes narrate the most ordinary things, but it is this simplicity that can often touch the hearts of the viewers. This is his film art, and his script is more like a novel.

    He would never think about awards like Best Director, but Best Picture and Best Screenplay are the trophies he most desires. Perhaps this is the ultimate pursuit of a film poet.

    "Although I don't know what you are talking about, I feel like you are very powerful." Song Qian squinted his eyes and smiled, and then focused on the opened script.

    "You will understand in the future. Just take a look. I'm going to make a cup of coffee. Do you want to drink it?" Li Cangdong shook his head, took a deep breath from the cigarette, and after exhaling the smoke, he walked out with a smile.

    The script is a thick book, estimated to have hundreds of pages. The first page contains the outline of the script and the center of the content. The second page begins with the introduction of the main characters and their personalities, habits, etc., and finally some  Some of the content and scattered words and sentences in Li Cangdong's annotations seemed irrelevant, but Song Qian did not think that these were all added by Li Cangdong in his spare time.

    After turning a few pages, I reached the main text, and the story of the script really began. The protagonist is a 66-year-old old woman living in a small town who is gradually suffering from Alzheimer's disease. When Song Qian saw this, he felt that this script was not  General romance or literary films.

    Song Qian just wanted to read the story briefly at first, but Song Qian was gradually attracted by the story constructed by Li Cangdong using words, even though there were differences in words.

    Li Cangdong made two cups of coffee and walked in quietly without disturbing Song Qian who was silently engaged in the story of the script. After putting down the coffee, he rested his chin on his hand and looked out the dark window with blurry eyes

    Song Qian likes Haruki Murakami very much. He uses light words to write richly melancholy articles. The overall style of the poem is very light. The scenery where the protagonist appears is always accompanied by warm sunshine and light breeze, just like a poem.  Poetry is just as beautiful, but in this pleasant sceneryHere, there is always an extreme darkness. Every time I imagine it in my mind, I always feel sick. For example, the protagonist experienced the wonderful bridge in nature for the first time, with green mountains and green water, birds singing and the fragrance of flowers, but it just happened to be like this.  In the environment, there was once a stripped corpse of a woman lying around. Maybe her hair was disheveled, maybe she had a ferocious face. Thinking about it, I thought she was eating a bowl of delicious cake. When I took a bite, I found that there was a half-strip of snow-white body in the cake.  The other half of the earthworm was swallowed into his stomach.

    "Ugh" Song Qian retched. It wasn't until the coffee on the side stopped steaming, and even the rich brown color changed a little, that Song Qian turned the thick script to the last page.

    At this moment, his mind was wandering, without too much condemnation or too much relaxation. He just closed the script with a solemn expression, closed his eyes silently, and carefully thought about the words just now. Perhaps, it cannot be called  Not as words, but as a beautiful, yet disgusting image playing in my mind.

    Hearing the small noise, Li Cangdong turned back and thought, lowered his head and said to himself: "It's not perfect yet. I always feel that there are some places that I haven't expressed clearly. As for where it is, I can't see it myself."

    Song Qian opened his eyes and stared at this talented writer. Yes, at this moment, Song Qian did not regard him as a mentor or a director, but as a writer. He did not know how to interpret him, and he did not know how to interpret him.  I don¡¯t know which key point in this story he was thinking about, but after reading it, he always had some understanding.

    "Wen Yiduo once wrote, 'If you give me happiness, I will die of happiness; if you give me pain, I will die of pain.' What is given to me in the poem is beautiful, but it makes me happy.  My heart is extremely painful, too painful, maybe, too painful, and people can¡¯t bear to look at it" This is simply to cut out human nature from the heart of a person, hold it in the palm of your hand and show it to the world for appreciation.

    "Really?" Li Cangdong nodded, picked up a pen and wrote down what Song Qian said on the first page of the script. Then Feng Qingyun smiled lightly and said: "I think you should go and experience the movie. Get ready. In a few days  I will arrange for you to see it."

    ¡­¡­

    The weather was sunny and the breeze was gentle. In the yard of an old house on the outskirts of Chuncheon, Song Qian was sitting on the steps, holding his head at a 45-degree angle and staring at the sky. Sitting beside him was an 18-year-old young girl named Gao Yaxing.  .

    Gao Yaxing is not very beautiful, at least in Song Qian's eyes, she has nothing to do with the word beautiful, but she has a very rare freshness like a weed, which makes people's eyes brighten.

    It has been half a month since Li Cangdong threw him here. He has lived almost isolated from the world for half a month. There are either aunts or **-year-old children nearby. Gao Yaxing, a fresh girl, is the only one who can make Song Qian pay attention.  Jeon Do-yeon?  Forget it, although this aunt has a good temper, it is obvious that the little loli who quarreled with her is much more popular in front of her than herself.

    Xue Jingqiu?  Affected by Li Cangdong, Song Qian had a good relationship with him, but the uncle quickly ran away after filming his scene.

    After Kim Sae-ron learned basic acting skills from Jeon Do-yeon for a week, the filming started. Lee Cang-dong did not come, but brought Song Qian in as a assistant. It was said that he was learning movies next to Unni.  The first lesson is that true knowledge comes from practice. Song Qian also thinks so, but he has really had enough of this place where nothing matters.

    After resting, Song Qian could only treat Gao Yaxing as an after-dinner snack: "When the world is so poor that there is only air left, where do you think love will be?"

    Eighteen-year-old high school students always have their own world, wandering between half-child and half-mature. Song Qian's question made her think about it for a long time.

    Song Qian shook his index finger to himself, looked at her with disgust and said, "At that time, love will only be a luxury product. The most precious thing is still yourself."

    "Oppa, can you please stop talking about such profound and unrealistic topics?" For half a month, every time he took a break to eat lunch, Gao Yaxing's body and mind were tortured by this cute man. For the first time  When they met, she thought he was quite nice. Anyway, the only one in the same age group here was Song Qian, so it would be okay to chat more, but she really had enough.

    What was the topic he talked about on the first day?  What is the effect of tomatoes on girls¡¯ development?  When a man talked to her about the key to breast development, she was so ashamed that she almost wanted to kick him away. During that conversation, Gao Yaxing ignored him for a week and concentrated on studying her script.

    ¡°After finally concentrating for a few days, I forgot about what happened last time. This guy came to chat with me again. What nonsense? What if she gives birth to more than a dozen children in the future?  Please, she is only eighteen years old this year, and she has given birth to more than a dozen children. Could it be that she will focus on pregnancy and confinement her whole life?

    &nbsp; Gao Yaxing ignored him for another week. She stayed away when she saw him and followed Quan Doyeon every day. When she was teaching Kim Sae-ron, she would sit in and sit in.

    ???????????????????? Well, this afternoon she has her first scene, and the mood that I had been holding back for half a month has finally improved, and this guy is chatting with me again.

    "Why do you say it's unrealistic? I think it's pretty good." Song Qian stood up, stretched, and glanced at the time: "It's time to hang up. You can read your script slowly."

    "How many phone calls do you have to make in a day? Just like three meals a day, isn't it just a sister? She manages it like her own wife." Gao Yaxing curled her lips at Song Qian's leaving back and continued to study her script  .

    Hanging up the phone to his sister Qian happily is what Song Qian must do every day. In the morning, noon and evening, plus before going to bed, he makes four calls a day. He feels uncomfortable if he fails to get through once. In this deserted suburb, he pauses  It¡¯s impossible to find something to do after the shooting.

    Kim Sae-ron came out of the house wearing the most popular plaid skirt of the 1970s and a mushroom-like hairstyle. She glanced around the courtyard with her eyes and saw Song Qian smiling on the phone under the eaves, so she shouted loudly.  : "Hey, that handyman, the director calls you."
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