MC Bookstore Chapter 50 The Truth
Chapter 50 The Truth
The process of submitting the script was not very smooth.
Firstly, Zhang Hua didn't appreciate the horror and suspense genre like "Triangle"; secondly, he was still bothered by Lin An's decision not to cast students from the Beijing Film Academy.
If Lin An hadn't pleaded so hard and used Dong Xuan as a shield, he probably wouldn't have even been able to get into the office.
"Why did you suddenly decide to submit your script to a foreign company?"
Zhang Hua sounded somewhat dissatisfied, feeling that Lin An was being too ambitious.
"Give it a try, it's free anyway."
Lin An shrugged and said, "The bold get rich, the timid starve. If you're selected, it's hundreds of thousands of RMB."
With an exchange rate eight times higher, even a tiny bit of something leaking out of someone's pocket would be enough for him to live a very comfortable life.
Hearing this, Zhang Hua didn't know what else to say, but he still reminded him:
"Different countries have completely different cultural styles, and the film and television industry is not a field where casting a wide net will necessarily be effective."
Lin An nodded perfunctorily and steered the conversation back to the main topic:
"Do you think I should set up a shell company or something? Just in case someone takes a liking to my script, it'll be good to have a legal entity to sign a contract."
Zhang Hua almost choked on his tea. He put down his thermos and said irritably:
"You're just submitting a script, not producing or investing in it. Why would you need to start a company? Just hire a lawyer."
That makes sense, and besides, I don't have the money to set up any shell company... Lin An thought for a moment, then tentatively asked:
How much does it cost to hire a lawyer in the United States?
Zhang Hua glanced at him and said calmly:
"Do you think an old man like me, with one foot in the grave, would know about such things?"
He paused for a moment, then continued:
"Besides, even if I knew, could you even come up with the money?"
Lin An opened his mouth, but was speechless for a moment.
He really couldn't afford it.
With just over 10,000 RMB in my pocket, converted to US dollars, I probably couldn't even afford the consultation fee.
Lin An rarely showed a blank expression.
Zhang Hua saw his expression, secretly chuckled for a moment, then coughed and said seriously:
"Alright, leave this to me. I'll figure something out."
"what?"
Lin An was taken aback. "You have connections in the United States too?"
Although he really wanted to complain that this was a bit too outrageous, at that moment he wished the other party had as many connections as possible, preferably covering the moon, Mars, and the Milky Way!
"I have no connections in the United States," Zhang Hua said.
Lin An's face darkened, but before he could speak, Zhang Hua changed the subject:
"However, I know someone in the US who can help you with this."
"...Could you please stop breathing so heavily when you speak?"
Lin An leaned back in his chair speechlessly, arms crossed.
"Who are you talking about? Are they reliable? Don't let them sell my script and I end up helping them count the money."
Zhang Hua ignored his complaints, picked up his thermos, slowly took a sip, and then spoke unhurriedly:
"Stop wasting time here. Translate the script into English and send it over. I'll have someone edit it and send it out via email."
He said, "You don't need to worry about the rest. Someone else will take over, but you need to be quick."
Lin An had no objection.
He wasn't one to meddle, and since others were willing to take full responsibility, he was happy to keep to himself.
"I can give you the script tomorrow."
Zhang Hua glanced at him in surprise. "Your English is so good?"
Having a cheat code is certainly good... Lin An imitated him and said:
"I know someone who speaks exceptionally good English."
He should refrain from showing off; if a translation task were to be thrown his way, he wouldn't have time to handle it.
……
……
Lin An was in high spirits after successfully completing the script project.
He estimated the time and saw that there were still several hours left before the deadline Lin Cong had requested. Instead of rushing to the film set, he walked out of the west gate and along the dirt road toward the convenience store.
As the end of the month approaches, temperatures begin to drop sharply.
The wind blew in from the alley entrance, carrying the chill of late autumn, and made the power lines hum.
Lin An put his hands in his pockets, walked briskly, and hummed an off-key tune.
As he passed by "Hongda Hardware", he habitually glanced into the store, and when he saw that the round blue figure was no longer there, he looked away and continued walking.
Turn into the courtyard and push open the door to the convenience store.
The copper bells jingled.
Behind the counter, Doraemon was looking down, his round hand holding a screwdriver, fiddling with a half-disassembled Walkman, his expression particularly dejected.
Hearing the noise, he suddenly looked up, his eyes lighting up instantly.
But the next second, as if he remembered something, he quickly covered his mouth with his round hand, made a shushing gesture to Lin An, and then pointed upstairs.
Lin An raised an eyebrow and subconsciously glanced towards the back half of the first floor.
That's Old Zhao's bedroom.
The door was closed, but a sliver of dim light shone through the crack.
There were also intermittent, suppressed sobs.
Lin An withdrew his gaze, remained silent, simply nodded to Doraemon, and tiptoed through the convenience store to the second floor.
Doraemon followed closely behind, and the two arrived at Lin An's bedroom and closed the door.
"Has something happened to Uncle Zhao's son again?" Lin An asked in a low voice.
Doraemon nodded, then shook his head.
Yes and no.
His eyes were filled with sadness as he said, "Do you remember when I mentioned Uncle Zhao borrowing money, he often mentioned mid-December on the phone?"
Lin An nodded, indicating that he remembered.
Doraemon sighed, "That's not the repayment date, it's his son's surgery date."
Lin An glared and said, "So, that debt is actually..."
"Most of the debts were indeed caused by business failures."
Doraemon explained, "Many employees are owed wages, and his son got into a fight with some radical employees and was beaten up and hospitalized."
He paused for a moment, his voice even lower:
"This morning, the hospital said my son's condition had worsened and he needed to have surgery sooner than expected. The latest they could do it is a week later, otherwise, even if he has the surgery, he will be left with permanent trauma."
Lin An fell silent.
He was fortunate that he had given up the idea of taking advantage of the chaos.
Otherwise, they would really be deregistered.
Lin An asked, "So what do we do now?"
Doraemon lowered his head in disappointment: "I don't know. Even if I sell the house, I'll still be short 70,000 after all the expenses. I only have about 15,000 right now."
Holy crap, how do you have so much money again... Lin An fell into deep self-doubt, wondering if he had chosen the wrong path in the first place.
But looking at the sad Doraemon, he finally sighed:
"I'll think of a way."
Doraemon looked up, his eyes misty with tears, and asked in confusion:
"What's your plan?"
Lin An walked to the bedside and sat down, placing his hands on his knees. After a few seconds of silence, he slowly said:
"Have you forgotten 'The Illustrated Guide to Real Objects'? We can sell the high-end furniture and clothing from it."
Doraemon's eyes slowly widened, then dimmed again:
"But didn't you say these things are of dubious origin and easily exposed?"
"...At a time like this, let's make an exception."
Lin An hesitated before speaking, his eyes becoming complicated:
"And I have ways to reduce the risk of exposure."
Doraemon tilted his head and asked curiously:
"What method?"
Lin An remained silent for a few seconds, a stunningly beautiful face flashing through his mind, then he said self-deprecatingly:
"Relying on women's methods."