I started out as a criminal, and the police relied on me to solve countless cases.

Chapter 243 Director Feng’s Circle of Friends
Liu Biao feels that he is the poorest writer in the world.

Of course, this poverty is relative, and there are certainly many writers who are poorer than him.

But every time he was bored and flipping through his phone.

Colleagues in the Writers Association group often send out good news, saying that so-and-so’s book has sold the copyright for so many millions.

The masterpiece of so-and-so has been published again. How much is the copyright income?

Liu Biao couldn't help but sigh: The world is deteriorating, the world is cold and indifferent, and people's hearts are no longer the same as before.

This era doesn't need writers, it only needs writers who cook fast food.

It's like the poet's time is over.

There are no Haizi or Gu Cheng in this fast-paced era. Only the daughters of great writers who are full of shit and piss and insult the IQ of ordinary people at will.

How I wish I could go back to the 80s.

Liu Biao lit a cigarette, selected a song "You, My Deskmate", and lay on his back on the sofa.

The tranquil melody echoed in the room.

In the past, girls liked boys who played football, played the piano and fought on campus. Now, elementary school students start to compare how much money their families have.

What a boring world.

It’s not that Liu Biao doesn’t want to do business or make money. On the contrary, he wants to make money more than anyone else.

"I'm a writer who's good at writing crime literature, not this bullshit love-related crap."

The writer was angry for no reason, but in the midst of his anger, some discordant images flooded into his mind, making him sober instantly.

"No! It can't be like this!"

He finally came to his senses, got up and walked to the table.

There were two books there: "Wu Song" and "The Unspeakable Secret".

The copyright of "Wu Song" has been sold for a considerable price, enough to provide him with a comfortable life.

In that case, why not give it a try, write what you want to write, publish it, and preferably make it into a movie.

This is a good story and will definitely make a good movie.

The writer thought so in his heart and put the fear in his heart behind him. It has been more than 20 years and he has forgotten about the incident, as if it was a strange fragment of memory in someone else's life and had nothing to do with him.

Those things and people have become so blurred that they are about to disappear. Who will remember them?
"Shoot! I need to get investment, big investment! Invite the best crime film director to bring this masterpiece of mine to the screen!"

"Having one of my works made into an excellent movie, even if I don't expect it to be remembered forever, at least my career as a writer has been fulfilled."

When the writer thought of this, many fantasies suddenly came to his mind, and in the end he felt so dizzy that he seemed to be taking off.

He didn't fly out of the window after all.

Instead, he honestly dialed the number of an important person.

"Hello, Director Feng, hello, I'm Liu Biao. Haha, you still remember me, yes, yes, it was the time when I had dinner with the great writer Mo at Fengze Garden."

"Yes, we were classmates at Lu Xun Academy of Literature, and it was thanks to his support that I joined the Writers Association."

"Oh, Director Feng, you're too kind. I'm not a big writer. I'm just a small fry. Hahaha, yes, yes, the play Wu Song used my script."

"It's just a TV show. How can it be compared with your work as director Feng Da? It's just a grain of rice. How dare it shine? It's like a firefly competing with the bright moon. It's overestimating one's own abilities." "This is not flattery. Okay, okay, let's talk about the matter. Hey, that, I really have something to ask for."

"Director Feng, this is what I mean. I recently wrote a new script and I want to film it."

"Don't worry about the money. I have a close friend who is a big shot in the real estate industry in Shanghai. He bought a valley in Zhangjiajie, which is tens of thousands of acres, Wanzikeng, with only one exit. He built a paradise on earth. There are hundreds of workers in charge of flowers and trees, cooks and servants. He is a low-key person, very low-key."

"Director Feng, rest assured, money is not a problem. I'm not bragging, but my book is also not a problem. The quality is definitely up to par."

"Director Feng, please give me some advice and be the director of my film. You can ask for any compensation you want!"

The writer became more and more excited as he spoke, and when he got to the crucial point, he was trembling with excitement.

He is not a big liar. His best friend, Mr. Wang, is indeed a rich man with plenty of money.

As for the investment issue, he had to speak up himself. Even if the movie was terrible and he was doomed to lose all his money, he had to invest money.

As for why Feng was invited to direct, the writer naturally had his own considerations.

Although Director Feng is not a top-notch celebrity in the country, he has always been ranked below other directors.

But directors nowadays don't look at the price when making a movie, they only look at the quality of the script. Although he is confident, he is not arrogant enough to think that what he wrote is good enough to make the director lower himself to direct it.

The most important thing is that I don’t know him, unlike Director Hefeng, with whom I have not only had meals together, but also have a relationship as the great writer Mo, so communication will be much easier.

Although Director Feng is not as good as the director in big scenes, his level of transition and scheduling of small scenes is not weak at all.

This is a crime movie, so it's just right to ask Director Feng to shoot it.

The writer smiled. He didn't think there was any reason for Director Feng to reject him. After all, he hadn't had a new work for a year or two. A movie with no shortage of money or script was in front of him. This was an opportunity.

"What! You can't direct?"

The writer's expression was stunned, because Director Feng's next words shocked him directly.

"Because he offended someone he shouldn't have offended, he was banned by the director and the GD General Administration?"

The writer was very confused. On the one hand, he was shocked by Director Feng's frankness. Normally, such words should not be told to outsiders. The other party could explain it to him so directly, which showed that he was very sincere.

But to be honest, he still has some understanding of the circles in Beijing, and many of his friends are very familiar with the situation in the circle.
So he had no idea who he had offended to cause the famous Feng Dao to be banned.

"What? You're saying there are better directors than you who make crime films?"

The writers started shaking their heads while holding their phones.

"I don't believe it. I really don't believe it. Who in China can compare to you, Director Feng, in making crime movies?"

"Jiang Hanwen? I have heard of him. Isn't he an actor? He recently released a movie that was pretty good, but I think he is far from being as good as you, Director Feng."

"Well, since Director Feng has said so, and Director Jiang is so valued by the director, I think his ability is beyond doubt. I am just worried that he may be a little too young."

Although the writer admitted it verbally, his expression was still full of doubt.

After all, compared with Director Feng, who has been famous for many years, this newcomer named Jiang Hanwen really has no outstanding works.

As for the movie "Memories of Murder" that Director Feng mentioned just now, which was filmed in Han Country, it's not like the author hasn't seen it. The quality is indeed very high, but it is obviously the work of director Bong Joon-ho. I don't know who cared about it, but Jiang Hanwen's name was added to it.

"Okay! I'll follow Director Feng's arrangements. I'll contact Mr. Wang and go with you to Xiguan to meet Director Jiang in person."

(End of this chapter)