I Forged the Myth of the Ancient Overlords
Chapter 368 - 368 367. All Elements at Play (additional for

Chapter 368: 367. All Elements at Play (additional chapter for monthly ticket!)_1 Chapter 368: 367. All Elements at Play (additional chapter for monthly ticket!)_1 Since the staff were still on holiday, Lu Ban only did the preliminary planning and would start the actual work after the New Year.

In this period, he watched many award-winning works to draw inspiration.

Having made so many movies, Lu Ban still knew how to appeal to the audience’s preferences.

He briefly summarized some commonalities among the award-winning films.

For example, many films dealt with themes of growth, but not the ordinary kind involving studying, eating, drinking, and growing up, rather a painful type of growth that deviates from the normal trajectory.

Many films also bore the distinct imprint of an era, reflecting the changes of a greater period by portraying characters within smaller contexts.

Some films focused on specific groups of people, depicting their lives, emotions, and experiences.

Many films did not have a complete ending, or if they did, everyone was in a miserable state by the end, leaving regrets and delivering a gut punch to the viewer.

Then there were the experimental films that won awards through special filming techniques or cinematography.

Putting it in terms most people would understand, commercial movies were like steamed buns, crullers, soy milk, steamed rolls, rice, and noodles—most people liked them and ate them with joy.

Whereas art films, art-house movies, and experimental works were like douzhi (fermented bean drink); those who liked it absolutely adored it, while those who didn’t like it couldn’t even stand the smell.

Among these, more than ninety percent of the films would put people off just by the name.

Of the remaining viewers who would press the play button, less than thirty percent wouldn’t fall asleep midway and manage to watch it until the end.

Those who found it good after watching were even fewer.

While commercial blockbusters were derided as worthless, these films were regarded as the standards of quality.

When people complained that they didn’t understand the films or found them unappealing, enthusiasts would retort, “Do you even understand the artistic value of what the cultured youth enjoy?”

Lu Ban didn’t quite understand.

But he respected these movies.

Because if one were to judge the merits of a film solely based on box office and commercial success, then many such niche, art, and experimental films would never be made, and the technology, skills, and cinematic language developed during their creation wouldn’t become known, which in turn would lead to commercial films becoming more and more monotonous.

It was like breakfast; after eating too many steamed buns and youtiao, occasionally trying douzhi wasn’t a bad idea.

He quite liked drinking douzhi, too.

Lu Ban thought that “Springtime without Warfare” as a foundation for an art film was quite good.

It had growth, reflected the times, featured special groups of people, and had an imperfect ending.

The elements were all in place.

Having confirmed this, Lu Ban checked the judging period.

These film festivals all reviewed submissions around the summer holiday, and the latest deadline for submission was in May—Lu Ban really didn’t have much time.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to worry about box office numbers and didn’t need complex promotions; making a good movie was enough.

To be honest, from this perspective, Lu Ban felt the difficulty had actually decreased.

Previously, whether it was videos or movies, a broader audience and more viewers were needed, which is why he didn’t include some R-rated scenes or storylines.

But this time, he didn’t need that many viewers; he just needed to satisfy the judges.

That meant he could let himself go completely.

In three days’ time, just before New Year’s Eve, Lu Ban had already completed all the storyboard drawing work.

The story’s main themes and mission background were similar, mainly consisting of Lu Ban’s own journey and experiences with Amber, which created a structure resembling a road movie.

“What do you think about this part? Is the first or the second one better?” Lu Ban asked, pointing to a storyboard sketch on the screen.

“Woof!” Laika barked, though it was unclear whether it was in agreement or rejection.

Lu Ban then glanced at the grey mist beside him.

The grey mist had been swirling continuously without any change since earlier.

“What do you think?” he asked again, looking at the blue doll under the bed and the hair beside it.

The blue doll shrank back, and the hair remained Unmoving.

“None of you give any opinion; this makes it difficult for me,” Lu Ban scratched his head.

In the end, he decided to ask his air friends.

“Here, I think it might be too direct for the audience; can they handle it?” Lu Ban looked at the air beside him.

After a moment, he nodded.

“You said it, so I’ll go with this plan then,”

Lu Ban continued to check and sort the storyboards.

New Year’s Eve.

Qin Tiantian didn’t return to her hometown this year; as a qualified receptionist at Silent Media, she chose to stay in Jiangcheng for the festival.

At the home of Lu Ban.

A haze of smoke filled the room, fogging up the glass of the living room.

The reflection of Lu Ban in the mirror wiped the glass clean, but soon a thin layer of mist covered it again.

The TV was playing a special program before the Spring Festival Gala began, and outside, one could occasionally hear the sounds of fireworks and children playing and laughing, along with the occasional clanking of pots and pans—full of festive atmosphere.

Laika lay curled up on a mat on the ground, dozing off.

A wisp of grey mist swept across the mirror and then slipped into the air conditioner.

In the kitchen, three people were busy at work.

Feng Yu was in charge of the cooking; with one hand, she held a fish, and with the other, she used a ladle to evenly pour hot oil over the slashed fish body, causing the flesh to tighten and the shape of the fish to set firmly.

Qin Tiantian was washing vegetables at the sink, standing on a cardboard box because she wasn’t tall enough and it was wearing to stand without it.

Lu Ban was cheering the two of them on.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to cook; his dishes were just for himself, unrefined with no presentation, and the taste was barely satisfactory.

Compared to them, with one being Feng Yu, who had traveled through Foreign Domains and mastered various culinary skills, and the other being Qin Tiantian, from a southwestern province known for its foodies, it was clear who should cook.

The three of them had been busy from noon until the afternoon, finally putting together a table full of delicious dishes before the Spring Festival Gala began.

White-cut chicken, squirrel fish, Dongpo pork, stir-fried squid blossom, steamed meat with rice flour, saltwater duck, along with some stir-fries and cold dishes, filled the table.

“How come there are so many bowls?”

Qin Tiantian glanced at Lu Ban, who had brought over the bowls.

Good gracious, he had taken out eight sets of bowls and chopsticks and arranged them in a circle.

“If there are this many people, there should be this many sets of bowls and chopsticks, right?”

Lu Ban replied as if it was the most natural thing.

“You’re talking weird again,”

Qin Tiantian didn’t dwell on it; she figured that there were enough things in the world that didn’t make sense, so it was better just to drink and sleep.

With Lu Ban, there was good food, money, computers to play with, and happiness to be gained—everything else was just a minor detail.

“Forget it, let’s eat together.”

Qin Tiantian picked up her bowl and chopsticks and began serving herself while watching the Gala that had just begun.

“This is delicious, you should have more,”

She immediately saw Lu Ban pick up a piece of white-cut chicken and place it in an empty bowl.

“?”

Qin Tiantian gave Feng Yu a glance.

Feng Yu was eating normally, occasionally picking up a bit of food and placing it into those empty bowls.

Qin Tiantian shifted her gaze back to the bowl with the white-cut chicken, and suddenly she noticed that the chicken had disappeared at some point.

“What’s wrong?”

Lu Ban saw this and asked.

“Nothing, this is delicious, it’s a specialty from my hometown, really tasty,”

Qin Tiantian said as she picked up a piece of Dongpo pork and put it in the bowl from which the chicken had disappeared.

At that moment, the TV presenters announced the next act. Qin Tiantian glanced at the screen and, when she looked back, the piece of pork had also vanished.

“!”

Her hair stood on end for a moment before settling down.

But she looked at Lu Ban and Feng Yu.

They seemed completely normal, as if they were dining with many other people.

Qin Tiantian swallowed.

She decided to act as though she hadn’t noticed anything.

*

Third bonus update of October from monthly votes 2/3