NABC Chapter 55 Zhang Yibai, Preparations for the MV
Chapter 55 Zhang Yibai, Preparations for the MV
When he returned to the shop, it wasn't lunchtime yet. Tang Yun was standing behind the counter organizing the newly arrived cassette tapes when she heard the door open and looked up at him.
"How is it?"
"We found someone." Li Si'an placed the sketchbook and the note on the counter. "Director Sun introduced me to someone who specializes in shooting music videos."
Tang Yun picked up the note and glanced at it. "Zhang Yibai? That's a funny name, like a blank sheet of paper?"
"That's what their parents named them." Li Si'an went around to the back of the counter, poured herself a glass of water, and gulped down half of it. In July, Beijing was so hot that it made your throat feel like it was on fire.
He leaned against the counter, staring at the landline number on the slip of paper. He put down his cup and reached for the receiver. As he dialed, his finger paused on the keypad.
In his past life, when Zhang Yibai made "Eternal Love," he was only ten years old, staying at home watching TV. Back then, he never imagined that one day he would dial this person's number.
The phone rang three times before being answered.
"Feed?"
The voice wasn't loud, but it had a slight Sichuan/Chongqing accent and rose in pitch.
"Excuse me, are you Director Zhang Yibai?"
"It's me. Who are you?"
"My name is Li Si'an. Director Sun Wenxue introduced me to you. I want to shoot a music video, on film, with a storyline. Director Sun said you specialize in this kind of thing and suggested I talk to you."
There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and then the voice became noticeably warmer.
"Director Sun recommended you? Great! So, what's the gist of your music video?"
"A little over four minutes, one song. I've already had the storyboard drawn. As for the budget—" Li Si'an thought for a moment, "fifty to seventy thousand."
Zhang Yibai whistled softly on the other end of the line. "Fifty to seventy thousand for a music video? Not bad. You're quite generous with your budget."
"I want to take better photos."
"Okay. Shall we schedule a time to talk in person?" Zhang Yibai spoke crisply and directly. "I can come to you, you can tell me where."
Li Si'an quickly said, "No, no, Director Zhang, where is it convenient for you? I'll come over to you."
I could hear the sound of something being rummaged through on the other end of the phone; they were probably looking for something.
"I live in the Beijing Film Studio's residential area, near Jimen Bridge, next to the Beijing Film Academy. Tomorrow morning, there's a coffee shop across from the west gate of the school called 'Sculpting Time.' Do you know that place?"
Li Si'an had no idea. In his past life, he had barely even been to Beijing, and in this life, his activities were limited to the Haidian area. But he didn't mince words.
"I know. What time tomorrow morning?"
"Ten o'clock. Fewer people, quieter."
"Okay. I'll arrive at 10 a.m. tomorrow."
After hanging up the phone, Tang Yun leaned against the counter and looked at him.
"You made plans?"
"Ten o'clock tomorrow morning." Li Si'an put the microphone back, leaned back in her chair, and let out a sigh of relief.
The next morning, Li Si'an took out his white shirt again. After tidying himself up in front of the mirror, he stuffed his sketchbook into his bag and hailed a minivan on the street.
"Jimen Bridge, Beijing Film Academy."
The driver nodded, and the car headed north. In July, the sun was strong early in the morning in Beijing, causing the leaves of the locust trees by the roadside to curl at the edges, and the cicadas were chirping loudly.
The car stopped in front of the Beijing Film Academy. Li Si'an paid the fare and stood at the school gate, looking across the street.
Across from the west gate was a row of old-fashioned residential buildings, all gray and dusty, with a few small shops on the ground floor facing the street. He glanced around and spotted a dark green awning with the words "Sculpting Time" printed on it.
Pushing open the door, I found the café to be small. The wooden floorboards creaked slightly underfoot, and several black-and-white photographs were pinned to the walls.
There was a row of booths by the window, with a few scattered tables inside. At ten o'clock in the morning, there weren't many people in the store; only one waiter was wiping glasses behind the bar.
A man in his early thirties, thin, wearing black-rimmed glasses and a dark gray T-shirt, sat in the corner. A cup of coffee sat in front of him, and he was engrossed in reading a book.
Li Si'an walked over. "Director Zhang?"
Zhang Yibai looked up. The eyes behind his glasses weren't big, but they were quite bright, and he looked at Zhang Yibai with a focused intensity, as if he were looking at a picture through a viewfinder.
"Li Si'an?" He stood up, extended his hand, and said, "Sit down, sit down."
Li Si'an shook hands and sat down opposite him. The waiter came over, and he casually ordered a coffee.
Zhang Yibai leaned back in the booth and looked him up and down. "How old are you?"
"eighteen."
"Eighteen years old, and you're funding your own film music video?" Zhang Yibai picked up his coffee, took a sip, and chuckled. "Are kids these days really this capable?"
Li Si'an smiled but didn't reply. He took out his sketchbook from his bag, placed it on the table, and pushed it over.
"Director Zhang, this is the storyboard. Please take a look."
Zhang Yibai put down his coffee cup, picked up his sketchbook, and opened it. Unlike Sun Wenxue, he didn't flip through the pages one by one; instead, he read very slowly.
On the first page, in a rented room, a boy sits at an electronic keyboard, his fingers hovering over the keys, his brow furrowed. A girl reaches over from the side and lightly presses a key with one finger. Zhang Yibai pauses for about ten seconds.
Page two, moving. A convertible truck, two people sitting on a sofa, the girl looking up, her hair blowing in the wind, the boy looking at her sideways.
Sunlight slanted down from above, gilding the outlines of the two figures. Zhang Yibai's finger paused on the image for a moment.
Page three, the new home. The girl sat on the sofa watching TV; a still image from "A Chinese Odyssey"—Zixia Fairy—was on the screen. Her eyes were red-rimmed. The boy leaned in, and they kissed.
Then a trickle of blood flowed from the girl's nose and dripped onto the back of the boy's hand. Zhang Yibai stared at that spot for a long time.
He turned to the last page. A concert hall, a grand piano, a boy sitting at the piano, his phone on the music stand, screen lit, in the middle of a call.
In the hospital room, the girl lay on the bed, wearing an oxygen mask, her phone pressed to her ear. Music leaked from the receiver. Her hand loosened, and the phone slipped from her fingers, falling onto the blanket.
Zhang Yibai closed the sketchbook. Instead of returning it to Li Si'an, he placed it beside him, his fingers resting on the cover.
"Who drew this storyboard for you?"
"A student from the Central Academy of Fine Arts."
Zhang Yibai nodded. "Well done."
He picked up his coffee, took a sip, put the cup down, and leaned back in the booth.
"Tell me, what kind of music video do you want to make?"
Li Si'an leaned forward slightly.
"Director Zhang, this is my idea."
"The first half of this music video is sweet. In the rented room, the two of them are crammed together, poor, but happy. During the moving scene, the truck, the sofa, the sky, the wind—we had to capture that carefree feeling, as if they were the only two people in the whole world."
Zhang Yibai listened without interrupting.
"Then the turning point was that kiss. During the kiss, the boy's nose bled. He initially thought it was his own and panicked, but the girl laughed and said it was hers."
The laugh should be very soft, as if it's nothing serious. Li Si paused for a moment.
"But when the audience sees this, they should feel a pang of unease. Because the previous parts were so sweet, and then suddenly a crack appears."
Zhang Yibai tapped his fingers lightly on the cover of his sketchbook.
"In the concert hall scene, the girl is listening to the boy rehearse from the audience, and then she faints. From here—" Li Si'an took a deep breath, "the music stops completely."
No background music, no singing, just ambient sounds. The noise of the hospital corridor, the clatter of hospital beds being pushed along the corridor... the sounds of reality assaulted the senses, shattering the fairytale.
Zhang Yibai's fingers stopped moving.
"In the final scene, the concert hall and the hospital ward are intersected and cut together. The boy is playing the piano on stage, and the audience is all around him, with the lights shining on him."
The girl was in the hospital room, wearing an oxygen mask, her phone pressed to her ear. The sound of a piano came through the receiver.
As she listened, her eyes slowly closed, her hand loosened, and the phone fell onto the blanket. The call was still ongoing on the screen, and the piano music was still playing.
Li Si'an finished speaking.
Zhang Yibai leaned back in the booth, staring at him for a long while. His gaze wasn't one of appraising, but rather of reassessing.
"How old are you again?"
"eighteen."
"This year's college entrance exam?"
"Yeah, I just finished the exam."
Zhang Yibai picked up his coffee, took a sip, put down the cup, and suddenly smiled.
"Li Si'an, I have something to tell you. Would you consider studying directing at the Central Academy of Drama?"
Li Si'an was stunned for a moment.
"I'm not joking." Zhang Yibai put down his coffee cup and became serious. "In the directing profession, the most difficult thing has never been the technique."
How to position the camera, how to set up the lighting, how to edit—anyone can learn these things after a few years of practice. But there are two things that can't be learned.
He held up one finger.
"Like the head, it's about visual imagery. When most people read a passage, the imagery in their minds is vague."
If you show them the text "The girl let go, and her phone fell onto the blanket," they'll understand roughly what happened.
But they can't see what the scene looks like, where the light comes from, or how close the camera is.
You're different. You're someone who's born knowing what a scene looks like. The words pass before your eyes, and you already have a series of images in your mind.
The storyboard is someone else's drawing because you can't express it in your mind, not because you don't have it in your head.
He raised his second finger.
"The second thing is the intuition of emotions and images. What kind of emotion should be accompanied by what kind of image? This judgment is instinctive."
You just said that after the girl fainted, all the music stopped and was replaced by ambient sounds—footsteps in the hallway, the sound of an ambulance being pushed around in the hallway. Why these sounds? Because you instinctively know that when grief reaches its deepest point, music is superfluous.
Letting the voice of reality flood in is more impactful than any background music. This intuition can't be taught.
Li Si'an picked up his coffee and took a sip. The coffee was a bit bitter, so he added a piece of sugar.
I am ashamed, truly ashamed.
Visual imagery, emotional intuition—those are all things from the original music video of his past life. He was simply reciting them frame by frame from memory.
None of the things Zhang Yibai praised were his own ideas.
But he couldn't say those words.
"Director Zhang, I just finished the college entrance exam, and I haven't decided what to study yet. Let's talk about it later."
Zhang Yibai nodded and didn't try to persuade him further. "Okay, there's no rush. Tell me about your music video."
He reopened his sketchbook and turned to the page about the truck moving.
"Now that you have the storyboard, I understand the overall tone. Shooting on film is no problem."
The film is a little over four minutes long, with a complete plot and not too many scenes—five main locations: a rented house, a truck, a new home, a concert hall, and a hospital ward. It was filmed in three days, with one day for reshoots, so four days was enough.
"Where are the actors?"
"You can play the male lead yourself. You can act as the singer yourself, every penny counts." Zhang Yibai pointed at the girl on the screen. "You need to find a female lead... She needs to be thin and have that fragile look."
It wasn't a sickly fragility, but rather a light in her eyes, a light that you knew would eventually fade.
Li Si'an didn't respond, waiting for him to continue.
Zhang Yibai closed his sketchbook and tapped his fingers on the cover.
"Li Si'an, to tell you the truth, the focus of this music video isn't on the male lead."
The male lead is just a tool from beginning to end; playing the piano, moving, kissing, making phone calls—all purely functional. After watching this music video, the audience won't remember you, they'll remember her.
All the shots are focused on the female lead. If she acts well, the music video will be a tearjerker. If she flops, all that money you spent is wasted.
Li Si'an nodded. He had watched the original music video of "Fairy Tale" countless times in his past life, and what he remembered was indeed that girl.
As for the male lead, if Michael Wong hadn't sung the entire song himself, probably very few people would remember what he looks like. He's just a supporting character anyway, so it wouldn't matter who plays him.
"So you playing the male lead is fine," Zhang Yibai said, taking a sip of his coffee. "But the female lead has to be someone with spirit. It's not just about being pretty; she has to be someone the audience feels sorry for."
He put down his coffee cup.
"I just remembered someone."
Li Si'an raised her eyes.
Zhou Xun.
Hearing those two words, Li Si'an's heart skipped a beat.
He knew all too well what that name meant in his past life. Golden Horse Best Actress, Hong Kong Film Best Actress, Golden Rooster Best Actress—she had won every award imaginable in the Chinese film industry.
"Last year, Chen Kaige filmed 'Temptress Moon,' and she played a young dancer in it," Zhang Yibai said. "I saw her in those scenes on set."
This girl has a certain energy when she acts—when the camera zooms in, there's something in her eyes.
And there's a sense of fragility about her, not fragility, but that feeling of knowing she'll break eventually, but you can't stop it. Exactly the same as the girl in your music video.
Li Si'an picked up her coffee and took a sip, suppressing the turmoil in her heart.
Zhang Yibai said this in 1996, before Zhou Xun acted in "Suzhou River" or "Palace of Desire," and was just an unknown actress who played a small role in Chen Kaige's film.
Zhang Yibai saw her on set and remembered her. He has a really sharp eye for actors.
"Where is she now? Can we get in touch with her?"
"She should be filming in Hangzhou. I'll ask around later. A minor actress like her is probably still working as an extra on various film sets right now, so it shouldn't be hard to find a time that suits her."
Zhang Yibai looked at Li Si'an: "If you agree, I'll contact her first. Once things are settled with her, we'll formally discuss the formation of the production team—the cinematographer, lighting technician, location, and specific schedule—and then we can move on to the next steps."
Li Si'an put down her coffee cup.
"Okay. We'll do it your way."
Zhang Yibai nodded and didn't say anything more. The two chatted for a few more minutes, finished their coffee, and Zhang Yibai paid the bill.
When we came out of Sculpting Time, the sun was almost overhead. July in Beijing was unbearably hot, and cicadas were chirping themselves hoarse in the locust trees.
Li Si'an stood at the entrance of the coffee shop, squinting at the sky.
Zhou Xun. In this lifetime, Zhou Xun will star in his music video.
He flagged down a minivan on the roadside, opened the door, and got in. "Baishiqiao."
The car started and headed south. He leaned back in his seat, watching the street scene outside the window recede into the distance.
Zhang Yibai didn't ask him if there were any suitable candidates, probably thinking that an eighteen-year-old kid who had just finished the college entrance examination couldn't possibly have any acting resources.
Fine, if it's convenient, then so be it. Besides, that's Zhou Xun.
A slight smirk appeared on his lips. Worth it, fucking worth it.