The script reading session ended on a sour note.
After Wei Song announced his decision, Head Screenwriter Li Jun didn't utter another word.
He just slowly sat back down in his chair, gathered the script covered densely with his annotations from the table in front of him, placed it in his briefcase,
then stood up, gave a stiff nod towards Wei Song, and towards everyone present, before turning and leaving.
The producer from Evergreen Entertainnt wanted to say sothing, but was stopped by a gesture from Wei Song.
Jiang Ci watched the direction Li Jun had left in, saying nothing.
That night, Li Jun locked himself in his hotel room.
His phone was turned off.
He wouldn't open the door even if the doorbell was pressed to pieces.
The dinner sent by Wei Song remained untouched outside the door.
Only a dim desk lamp was on in the room, its light stretching his hunched-over figure at the desk into a long shadow.
Spread open on the desk was precisely that script he had poured five years of his heart and soul into.
Li Jun's fingers traced over the dense annotations he had written in red pen on the script. Every turning point in a character's arc, every rhy in a line of dialogue, all condensed his painstaking effort.
And now, all of this had been casually dismissed, in the manner he most despised, by a kid barely in his twenties.
"Unresolved Injustice."
Li Jun chewed on this phrase in his heart, feeling only a mouthful of bitterness and absurdity.
What was this?
This was cutting corners! This was a cheap manipulation of audience emotions!
He, Li Jun, had been writing scripts for thirty years, pursuing character authenticity, the imnse impact and reflection brought by a tragic core.
Since when had the standard for evaluating a work's quality beco whether it could make the audience feel "Unresolved Injustice"?
It wasn't that he couldn't accept revisions.
After so many years in the industry, he had experienced scripts being altered beyond recognition.
What he couldn't accept was the *reason* for the revision.
Not to make the characters more three-dinsional, but for so inexplicable "market hit logic."
This was a trampling of him as a creator.
That young man Jiang Ci, and that girl nad Zhao Yingfei.
One proposed the theory, the other demonstrated it.
A seamless collaboration.
Rage churned in his chest.
Li Jun abruptly stood up and began pacing back and forth in the narrow room.
No.
He couldn't just let this go.
He had to prove that Jiang Ci's so-called "War Dance" was utter nonsense.
He had to tell everyone in the crew what Yu Ji's "skill in dance" truly was!
Li Jun stopped pacing and dragged out the three huge suitcases he had brought with him.
With a *thump*, the cases were opened.
Inside were neatly stacked scrolls, rubbings, and thick folders of materials.
This was the fruit of his five years of labor, the historical materials on Chu and Han he had personally rubbed, copied, and compiled from various museums and ancient text libraries to write *The Legend of Han and Chu* well.
He was going to find the ironclad evidence to refute the "Po Zhen Wu" from within these.
Li Jun put on his glasses and plunged into the pile of old papers.
Ti ticked by, second by second.
The night outside the window was thick and impenetrable.
In the hotel room, only the rustling sound of turning pages could be heard.
He first flipped through all records concerning the lives of Xiang Yu and Yu Ji, from the *Records of the Grand Historian* to various unofficial histories and anecdotes.
The passages ntioning Yu Ji's dancing all had only vague descriptions like "skilled in dance" or "danced for the king."
He couldn't find it.
He then turned to researching the customs and culture of the Chu region.
Music, sacrifices, feasts.
A vast amount of material showed that the music and dance of Chu were known for their splendor, romance, and shamanistic, ghostly atmosphere. Qu Yuan's *Nine Songs* was the best proof.
This further solidified his judgnt.
In a land filled with romanticism and shamanistic culture, how could Yu Ji's dance possibly be a battle dance brimming with martial spirit?
Absurd!
Li Jun flipped through the pages faster and faster.
Five in the morning.
Li Jun had been flipping through materials for nearly ten hours without sleep or rest.
His eyes were bloodshot, but his spirit was in a highly excited, paranoid state.
He opened another scroll of material. It was a fragntary rubbing of a study on the customs of the Chu region's Music Bureau, a rare copy he had acquired from an old friend. The paper was fragile, the handwriting blurred.
He read it word by word, searching for any clue.
The main content of the fragnt was mostly about the modes and instrunts of Chu folk songs, profound and obscure.
Li Jun's movents suddenly halted.
His finger stopped at the end of the rubbing.
There was a line of tiny, almost completely worn-out characters, an annotation left by a predecessor.
Because it was too blurry, he had to lean in extrely close, almost pressing his face against the paper, to barely make it out.
"The songs of Chu are solemn and stirring, often used as tunes to send off souls in the army…"
Reading this, Li Jun's heart skipped a beat.
He continued reading.
"…using dance to sacrifice to those who died in battle, nad…"
That crucial character, due to wear, was no longer fully visible, leaving only a vague outline.
Li Jun held his breath and used his fingertip to brush away the dust on it.
"…Ta Ying."
The two characters "Ta Ying" exploded in Li Jun's mind!
He froze on the spot, still clutching that fragile fragnt, motionless.
Ta Ying?
Trampling the enemy camp?
His mind instantly flashed back to Zhao Yingfei's stunningly brief dance in the conference room that afternoon.
That clean, sharp slash!
That twisting motion imitating a block!
Those leaps that seed like charging through enemy formations!
He understood.
The so-called "Po Zhen Wu" that young man Jiang Ci spoke of coincided in its core with this long-lost military sacrificial war dance!
He suddenly realized.
Yu Ji's final dance was not just a lant sung for Xiang Yu alone.
It was a requiem for all eight thousand sons of Jiangdong who followed the Conqueror and died on the battlefield!
Then the scale of this tragedy would instantly be elevated!
From the end of one man's road, a woman's martyrdom for love.
Elevated to the fall of a dynasty, an elegy for a generation of soldiers!
This was at least ten tis more profound in conception than the simple "martyrdom for love" he had originally designed!
Li Jun's entire body began to tremble.
He had been terribly wrong.
He had always wanted to shape Yu Ji into Xiang Yu's sole haven of tenderness,
but he had forgotten that the woman for whom that arrogant Conqueror of Western Chu remained steadfast unto death,
how could her soul contain only gentleness?
Her very bones were etched with the sa unyielding, indomitable spirit that belonged to the people of Chu!
"Po Zhen Wu…"
"Ta Ying…"
Li Jun muttered to himself. He grabbed the script from the desk, flipped to the last page, and picked up the red pen again.
But this ti, his hand stopped in mid-air.
He found he couldn't bring himself to write.
Because the scene now forming in his mind far exceeded the frawork of his original script.
He needed to talk to that young man.
Not discuss.
He had to see him imdiately!
Li Jun threw down the pen, yanked open the door, and rushed out.
The hallway was empty.
He didn't even know which room Jiang Ci was staying in.
He rushed to the elevator and frantically pressed the button. Just then, the elevator door *dinged* open.
Jiang Ci was standing inside the elevator, looking like he was about to go out for a morning workout.
Seeing Li Jun standing at the door with bloodshot eyes and a crazed appearance, Jiang Ci was also taken aback.
"Teacher Li?"
Li Jun grabbed Jiang Ci's arm, but his first words surprised Jiang Ci.
"How did you know?"
Jiang Ci looked at him, not showing the slightest surprise, and answered calmly.
"I didn't know."
"I just felt it should be like that."
Li Jun stared at him intently, trying to see sothing on his face.
But that young face held only utter sincerity.
Li Jun slowly released his grip.
"You're right."
"The Po Zhen Wu is the injustice of eight thousand followers going to war with , not a single one returning alive!"
"It's the injustice of 'strength to lift mountains, spirit to overshadow the world, but the tis are unfavorable, and my steed will not advance'!"
"This dance must channel their souls!"
Jiang Ci listened quietly, then nodded.
"That is precisely my aning."
Li Jun looked at Jiang Ci.
This young man was using his own way to touch the soul of the character.
A trendous inspiration struck Li Jun's brain. He suddenly grabbed Jiang Ci again.
"No, just dancing isn't enough!"
Li Jun's eyes shone with a creative fervor.
"At the siege of Gaixia, the Han army had their songs."
"The Chu army should have theirs too!"
"Eight thousand n shouldn't be silent ghosts!"
Looking at this old screenwriter before him, appearing crazed, Jiang Ci felt no surprise.
A true creator would look like this when touching the core of artistic inspiration.
He simply asked one question.
"Teacher Li, what do you want to do?"
The corners of Li Jun's mouth stretched into a nearly frenzied smile.
"I want to add a chorus of Chu songs into the 'Po Zhen Wu'!"
"Eight thousand heroic souls, following her together, singing for their king to hear!"
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