Pioneer Films, a blunder?

That night, Lin Ruiyang received a text message from Wang Hai: "Berlin has received the finished film and entered the process; we are awaiting the results."

In the days that followed, Lin Ruiyang switched to silent mode, blocking out all the noise that had nothing to do with him.

Those trophies and praises from senior colleagues are all in the past. He has been busy since returning to school after winter break, and it's time for him to take a break.

He would attend classes, watch films, and audit classes. Occasionally, he would be pulled into Liu Yibing's office for a chat or to show off to some senior colleague.

Lin Ruiyang finds joy in this seemingly monotonous life.

Although he was reborn with the aura of a future prophet, as a screenwriter and director, he had to jump from that God's-eye view to the realities of life and avoid stereotypes caused by a lack of self-awareness.

In late December, just before Christmas, Lin Ruiyang finally received the money he had been waiting for.

Since we followed the path of China Film Group, it was Wang Hai who notified us by phone.

"Director Lin, the payment for the overseas distribution of your short film in Venice has arrived. It's 103 million RMB. After deducting personal income tax and studio business tax according to the agreement, you'll probably receive a little over 400,000 RMB."

Lin Ruiyang did some mental calculations. In an era when the price of housing in Beijing's Second Ring Road was still hovering around six or seven thousand yuan, four hundred thousand yuan would be enough for him to buy a pretty good one-bedroom apartment here.

"In addition, I suggest you upgrade your studio to a company. The previous studio was just for filming under someone else's name, but things are different now. It will be much easier to handle accounting, financing, and copyright management under a company name."

"I'll think about it carefully."

After communicating with Liu Yibing by phone, Lin Ruiyang quickly completed the registration process, deciding to make the most of his alumni connections.

Two days before the New Year, a new company, Pioneer Pictures, was added to the industry, which was temporarily just an empty shell.

After New Year's Day, it was January 2005.

The first week of 2005 was anything but peaceful for the film industry in Beijing.

At this point in time, all eyes should be on the upcoming Berlin Film Festival.

In particular, Gu Changwei's directorial debut, "Peacock," had already been the subject of much speculation within the industry, with reports that even Zhang Yimou praised it highly and practically secured a Silver Bear at the Berlin Film Festival.

However, just after New Year's Day, a secret rumor began to circulate within the circle and even reached the school.

"Have you heard? It seems that 'Peacock' didn't make it into the main competition."

"Really? Teacher Gu has been working on it for so long, and everyone in the industry says it's the only Chinese film of the year."

"I heard it was because of censorship, or I heard it was because the style was too dark, so Berlin didn't like it."

When Lin Ruiyang, who was sitting in a corner of the library, heard these words, the nib of his pen suddenly drew a long diagonal line across his notebook.

His previously relaxed back instantly straightened, and a sense of anxiety began to spread.

In my past life's memories, "Peacock" not only entered Berlin, but also won the Silver Bear Grand Jury Prize, which was the most glorious moment for Chinese-language films in Berlin in 2005.

Lin Ruiyang packed his things and hurriedly went to an internet cafe outside the school to look up relevant information.

The entertainment section homepage prominently featured the headline: "Yanjing Youth Daily: Plot Difficult to Understand by Judges, 'Peacock' Fails at Berlin Film Festival."

"No way, how is that possible?" Lin Ruiyang muttered as he flipped through the pages.

The article, citing sources familiar with the matter, stated that some judges at the Berlin Film Festival were perplexed by plot points in "Peacock," such as the younger brother poisoning his mentally challenged older brother, leading to the film's failure at Cannes and Venice.

Seeing this, Lin Ruiyang was filled with doubt. Who knew more about this than the people in their school?

The report caused an uproar online.

"Did 'Peacock' really not selected for the Berlin Film Festival?"

Is the news true or false?

"If even 'Peacock' can't get in, does that mean all Chinese-language films will be wiped out this year?"

Lin Ruiyang then opened the Berlin Film Festival's official website and, after searching through all the announcements, discovered that the main competition list for this year had not yet been released.

Only the Panorama section announced its list of 20 shortlisted films, including three Chinese-language films: "Spring Blossoms," "Dumplings," and "Peach Blossom."

"Could it be that the media has made a mistake?"

With doubts in mind, Lin Ruiyang decided to wait until tomorrow to ask Liu Yibing for details.

The next morning, Lin Ruiyang went to office 301 with a belly full of questions.

Liu Yibing had just brewed a cup of tea, and before the tea had even fully steeped, he saw his student hurriedly push open the door and come in.

After listening to Lin Ruiyang recount the whole story, I showed him the online reports and discussions on my phone.

Have you checked the official Berlin website?

"I checked. The official list only includes the shortlisted entries for the Panorama category; the list for the main competition has not yet been released."

Liu Yibing picked up his teacup, took a sip, and said in a nonchalant tone, "Then what's your hurry?"

"What if?" Lin Ruiyang looked into his eyes.

"Teacher, I'm just a little worried..."

Liu Yibing didn't answer him directly. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, and then said something that stunned Lin Ruiyang:

Instead of worrying about whether Gu Changwei has been promoted or not, you should worry about yourself. When the film selection committee watches a film, they don't look at who the director is, but what the film itself is about.

If *A Separation* fails to express what it should express, even if *Peacock* withdraws, you still won't get in. Conversely, if it's powerful, nothing can stop it.

The final sentence, "Just you wait," kicked Lin Ruiyang out of the office.

Liu Yibing's words did not give him a direct answer, but he already knew the answer in his heart when he came looking for it.

A few days later, things unfolded exactly as Lin Ruiyang had predicted.

First, the Beijing News published a report on January 8: Yang Jinsong, the publicity director of Poly Huayi, told reporters that the invitation letter from the film festival organizing committee to "Peacock" had been sent to the company, and the news that it was rejected was a complete misunderstanding.

Gu Changwei himself also responded. Initially, he was confused as well, and many friends called to offer their comfort. After understanding the situation, he was left both amused and exasperated.

Following this, the Southern Daily also published a follow-up article, clearly outlining the ins and outs of the incident: the "shortlist" mentioned in the newspaper's report was not the competition section at all, but the "Panorama" section, which is part of the film festival's exhibition, and "Peacock" had been confirmed to be shortlisted for the competition section.

A day later, Sina and other platforms also reposted this clarification.

The related discussions quickly spread from the film and television sections of various forums to offline events, and those who were speaking eloquently just a few days ago changed their tune when they saw it again.

When Lin Ruiyang saw the report, he was having lunch with Fatty in the cafeteria.

So far, only the first batch of eleven films has been announced for the competition, and Gu Changwei's "Peacock" is among them, making it the only Chinese-language film to be shortlisted.

He suddenly remembered the morning he went to 301 to ask Liu Yibing, and the old man leaning back in his chair said, "Just wait."

Looking back now, I find my anxiety at the time somewhat amusing. How could the wings of a butterfly like myself possibly flap so far?