Best Director in Literature Department of Huayu

Chapter 3: The Script and Recommendations

Over the next few days, Lin Ruiyang spent almost all of his spare time working on the script.

I get up at seven o'clock every morning, wash up, and sit down at my desk to write. If the environment is too distracting, I go to the library or an empty classroom. During the day, while in class, I'm also thinking about how to revise a certain line of a song.

The fat man who didn't eat with his dining buddies said he was "obsessed".

Lin Ruiyang ignored him.

In his past life, he wrote screenplays for eight years, never having been so dedicated as he was now. Not because he had become more diligent, but because this time, his name would be credited before these words.

The name "Lin Ruiyang" is enough.

On Thursday evening, Lin Ruiyang put down the last page of the manuscript, leaned back in his chair, rubbed his hands, and let out a long sigh of relief. The script was finally finished.

All nine scenes, including stage directions, dialogues, lyrics, and blocking notes for each scene, were completed. The entire script was stacked up to about half a finger's thickness.

At that moment, the fat guy poked his head out from the top bunk: "Old Lin, are you finished writing?"

"Finished writing."

"Can I go to sleep now? The lamp is making it hard for me to sleep."

Lin Ruiyang smiled and turned off the table lamp.

The next morning, he read the script from beginning to end, corrected seven or eight typos, and polished two sections of lyrics. Then he put it in a folder and went straight to office 301 in the teaching building.

Liu Yibing was reviewing materials when he saw him rush in and asked, "Finished writing?"

"I'm done writing." Lin Ruiyang handed over the folder.

Liu Yibing took it but didn't rush to open it. Instead, he first weighed the thickness in his hand and then glanced at Lin Ruiyang.

"About 12,000 words," Lin Ruiyang said.

Liu Yibing nodded and opened the script.

The office fell silent again. Lin Ruiyang sat quietly opposite him, watching Liu Yibing turn the pages one by one. The old man's expression didn't change much. Occasionally he would pause on a page, occasionally frown, and take a note, but most of the time he would turn the pages smoothly.

About half an hour later, Liu Yibing closed the script.

"The overall structure is fine," he said. "You've also corrected the points I mentioned in class before."

"Yes, I did everything as you asked, teacher."

"It's about the part where the White Bone Demon transforms. I read your annotations. The idea is good, but the actual cost of implementation is not low."

"We can put the cost aside for now," Lin Ruiyang explained. "The script is the script, and the production is the production. Let's get the script in place first, and then we can talk about the rest later."

Liu Yibing looked at Lin Ruiyang with a mixture of surprise and approval, as if he were a teacher.

"Your mindset doesn't seem like that of a freshman."

Lin Ruiyang didn't respond. Liu Yibing remained silent for a few seconds, then said something that Lin Ruiyang hadn't expected: "Where do you plan to submit this notebook?"

Lin Ruiyang had a sudden inspiration: "I've thought of a few directions, and the ones I think are most suitable are the 'Newcomer's New Works' section of 'Scripts' and submitting it to the University Student Drama Festival after rehearsals."

"I'm familiar with the Dramatists Association, so I can recommend you there. It'll be a little faster than submitting your work yourself."

Lin Ruiyang felt his brain go blank for a moment. Had he just hit the jackpot?

He knew Liu Yibing had a wide network of connections, but he didn't expect the old man to offer his help. In the industry, such a recommendation carries weight; it's an endorsement from an older generation.

"Then I'll have to trouble you, Teacher Liu." Lin Ruiyang tried his best to keep his tone calm.

Liu Yibing waved his hand, indicating that he didn't need to be polite: "Go back and go through the script again, especially the typos. I'll call and ask about it for you."

Lin Ruiyang responded and prepared to pack his things and leave.

"Wait a minute," Liu Yibing called out to him.

Lin Ruiyang turned around.

Liu Yibing hesitated for a moment, seemingly considering his words: "If you want this script to be published, have you considered who to ask?"

Lin Ruiyang was also stunned. He only thought about it briefly and didn't ponder it carefully.

"I've thought about it briefly, maybe with the drama club or acting students on campus, or—"

"This script isn't so easy to get on campus," Liu Yibing interrupted him. "The acting department has its own arrangements, and the drama club might not have the manpower to set up this stage for you. A stage play isn't just about having a script; you also need a director, actors, costumes, set design, and lighting—you can't do it without any of them."

Lin Ruiyang fell silent. He knew everything Liu Yibing had said, but to be pointed out so bluntly... well, it was still a bit... reality is harsher than imagination.

"However," Liu Yibing changed the subject, "I know a few friends who are directors at the opera academy. I'll ask around and see if anyone is interested in your script."

Lin Ruiyang was truly stunned. Getting recommended to a core journal was already an unexpected bonus, and now he's even helping with the rehearsals.

"Teacher Liu, this—"

"Don't overthink it," Liu Yibing said, his tone returning to its usual calm and indifferent manner.

"I don't just push any script out. I know whether a script is worth reading or not."

Having said all that, Lin Ruiyang knew that saying thank you again would be pretentious.

In late February, the wind in Yanjing was still cold, but the sunshine was beginning to bring warmth.

Walking slowly along the main road of the campus, heading back to his dormitory, Lin Ruiyang's mind was a jumble of thoughts.

Liu Yibing's agreement to help with the script was a good start. But what's next?

Are we just going to wait here like idiots?

That's not his style.

His biggest lesson from his past life was "waiting"—waiting for opportunities, waiting for someone to appreciate him, waiting for his mentor, waiting for a windfall. But when he was reborn, he had nothing.

In this life, he didn't want to wait any longer.

Lin Ruiyang paused at the intersection, then turned towards another building.

The teaching building for the directing department.

The directing department and the literature department are not in the same building, but they are not far apart. Just walk to the intersection and cross a small alley to get there. As a veteran of the Beijing Film Academy in his previous life, he was very familiar with the campus layout.

He used to be an ordinary student who was conscientious and followed the rules step by step, studying according to the professional talent training program, and never auditing classes from other departments.

Later, I worked as a ghostwriter, revising scripts every day. It was only when I had the opportunity to go to the film set that I gradually developed a desire to be a "director" and began to explore the field.

After being reborn, the idea of ​​becoming a director took root in my mind, but I was too busy writing scripts to think about it in detail. Now that the weight has been lifted off my shoulders, it's time to start planning the next step.

The directing department's class schedule is posted on the bulletin board on the first floor.

Lin Ruiyang stood in front of the bulletin board, reading through each line. "Audiovisual Language," "The Art of Directing," "Fundamentals of Cinematography"... he silently noted the dates as he read.

As for whether he could audit classes, he wasn't worried about that. The Beijing Film Academy wasn't very strict about auditing classes; students from other departments could audit classes in other majors as long as there was enough room in the classroom and the teacher didn't kick them out.

Of course, the premise is that you have to keep a low profile and not cause any trouble in class.