Huayu: I Have a Doraemon

Chapter 24 Sacred Tree

Despite his complaints, Lin An still took Su Xiao's words to heart.

With his energy at its peak, he immediately slung his bag over his shoulder and rushed towards the dormitories.

Senior performing arts students need to prepare for their graduation play and rehearse every day; the location is easy to find.

As I passed a rehearsal hall with its door ajar, a woman's slightly stern voice came from inside:

"Stop! Not enough emotion! Let's do it again!"

Then came the sound of several students reciting their lines in unison, a buzzing sound that made it difficult to discern the specific content.

Lin An didn't stop and continued walking forward to the second-to-last room at the end of the corridor.

The door was open.

The rehearsal room is about 60 or 70 square meters. The wooden floor is polished to a shine, and there are floor-to-ceiling mirrors on three walls, reflecting the sunlight coming in from the windows.

Several cushions, a thermos, and two open scripts were scattered on the ground.

Zhao Nana sat cross-legged by the window, holding a literary journal in her hands, engrossed in reading it.

In a corner of the rehearsal hall, three or four acting students were sitting together, quietly going over their lines.

Lin An stood at the door and raised his hand to knock on the door frame.

Knock knock knock.

Zhao Nana looked up and saw it was him. She was stunned for a moment, then the corners of her mouth slowly turned up.

"Hey, junior, what brings you here?"

With her usual teasing tone, she closed the book and patted the cushion next to her.

The other students in the room immediately had strange expressions, stopped what they were doing, and pricked up their ears.

Their intuition told them that something interesting was going to happen today.

Ignoring the subtle gazes in the room, Lin An walked straight over and sat down on the cushion next to her.

"I have something to ask you."

"explain."

Are students at the Beijing Film Academy in dire need of scripts?

Zhao Nana blinked, placed the book in her hand on her lap, and tilted her head to look at him:

"You can't be that short of money, can you?"

Lin An joked, "If debt had a ranking, I'd definitely be at the top."

Zhao Nana's expression turned strange for a moment, but she still continued:

"A good script will never lack buyers, but we still need to discuss the specifics in person."

"Can't understand."

Different styles require different things.

Zhao Nana counted on her fingers and said, "There are several schools of thought in the directing department alone: ​​the French New Wave, avant-garde art, Hollywood three-act plays, poetic... No script can conquer everyone."

She added, "If you can really write a good script, my recommendation is to give it directly to your teacher."

That makes sense. It's definitely more convenient to go directly to the platform than to connect one-on-one... Lin An gave Zhao Nana a thumbs up.

What she said makes sense, but it's not comprehensive.

Taking the script directly to the teacher might guarantee efficiency, but the teacher has no reason to help him.

How can a teacher with dozens of students possibly understand the needs of each individual?

Even if the teacher kindly hands over the notebook, it may not attract much attention from the student once it reaches their hands.

To ensure the script achieves its intended effect, careful planning is still needed.

Lin An's thoughts kept wandering, and he then asked a few more questions about things to pay attention to, and inquired about students in the school who had strong professional skills.

Zhao Nana didn't hold back either, counting on her fingers and rattling off a string of names as if they were her most treasured possessions.

Lin An silently memorized these names, but when he heard that Huang Lei was also searching for scripts, he almost lost his composure.

Did Huang Xiaochu decide to change his career path so early?

"Okay, thank you for sharing."

Lin An stood up, dusted off his pants, and prepared to leave.

Zhao Nana grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back onto the cushion.

"What's the rush? Since you're already here, chat with your senior for a while."

The expressions of those around him changed, and one boy looked on with envy, thinking to himself why such a good thing never happened to him.

Lin An said speechlessly, "Aren't you busy with your graduation play?"

Zhao Nana rolled her eyes: "Why didn't you say that when you came in?"

Lin An thought to himself, "I'm not stupid."

At that moment, Haiqing pushed open the door and walked in.

She was wearing a pink short-sleeved shirt and carrying a bulging canvas bag, the contents of which were unclear.

Upon seeing Lin An, she paused, her expression one of surprise:

What are you doing here?

"Ask some questions."

Lin An repeated the topic, his eyes darting around, looking for an opportunity to slip away.

"By the way, there's been a result regarding the matter you asked me to inquire about."

Haiqing walked to the window, put down the canvas bag, and sat down against the wall.

She gave him an address and said:

"After school, you can go there and find a junior student named Tang Yu. He can help you with the poster, of course, he has to be good enough."

Lin An's eyes lit up: "What exactly should I draw?"

Hai Qing's eyes looked somewhat unnatural, and she said vaguely, "You'll know when you get there."

Lin An blinked, and for some reason, he had a bad feeling.

Before I could ask any further questions, an orange shadow flashed past.

Lin An subconsciously reached out, and the orange landed steadily in his palm.

Haiqing smiled and said, "Senior is treating."

Lin An, completely oblivious to politeness, simply put the orange into his backpack.

Zhao Nana was incredibly jealous: "Why didn't you bring me an orange?"

Haiqing glanced at her disdainfully, "Haven't I brought you enough?"

We've been roommates for years, we all know each other.

"What did you bring me?"

"Who buys you breakfast? Who lent you their notes to copy?"

"That doesn't count!"

……

Lin An ignored their bickering and stared intently at the literary journal Zhao Nana had placed on her lap.

People's Literature.

The black and white cover, with the outline of the mine undulating against the gray horizon, evokes a sense of oppression.

But Lin An's eyes were fixed on the bolded headline, his expression so focused that he ignored the sounds around him.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

Zhao Nana's voice suddenly rose, filled with obvious dissatisfaction.

Lin An snapped out of his daze and blinked blankly, "Huh?"

Zhao Nana rolled her eyes in exasperation and waved her hand in front of him: "What are you looking at? So engrossed?"

"It's nothing," Lin An replied casually, withdrawing his gaze.

Before Zhao Nana could react, Lin An had already turned and walked towards the door.

"I'll treat you to a meal in a few days when I have some money."

After saying this, Lin An disappeared from everyone's sight.

Zhao Nana squinted at Hai Qing:

"The way he's talking makes it sound like he'll definitely make money in a few days."

Hai Qing lowered her eyes slightly, pondered for a moment, and then turned her gaze to the magazine in Zhao Nana's arms.

She stared at the title, lost in thought, and said:

"Who knows? Maybe he really does have a way."

Following Hai Qing's gaze, Zhao Nana looked down at the journal in her hand.

The four characters "People's Literature" are displayed vertically on the left, while a silhouette of a mine is shown on the right.

The dark mountain ridgeline pressed against the gray sky, like a scar that would never heal.

She turned to the page she had just been looking at.

In the header, a bolded title stands out prominently:

—"The Sacred Tree".