"Brother Yan, I've finished all the revisions you asked for. Take a look and see if it works. If not, I'll revise it again."
Another day had come to an end. Xu Shengli, visibly much more haggard, looked expectantly at Wang Yan, who had only just returned.
More than a week had passed. Xu Shengli had been burning the midnight oil every day, cutting and revising. He was a complete mess now. Having shut himself away for so long, neglecting food and sleep, keeping irregular hours, and getting insufficient nutrition had left him looking weak as death.
Wang Yan tossed his bag onto the table, picked up the script, and sat down to read.
Xu Shengli eagerly poured him tea and water, lit a cigarette for Wang Yan, then waited beside him with anxious eyes.
By the time Wang Yan had finished his cigarette, he had also finished reading the script.
"How was it, Brother Yan?" Xu Shengli asked impatiently.
"Your dialogue is still too uncultured. It doesn't convey the learning and sophistication of this group of highly educated intellectuals. I marked out several topics that needed deeper discussion, but what you wrote was still too plain and superficial. You still like piling up fancy words to prove you're cultured. You haven't fixed that habit."
Xu Shengli was clearly disappointed, his confidence taking a blow.
He had not expected Wang Yan to read scripts so professionally, nor had he expected the issues Wang Yan pointed out to be ones he had no choice but to acknowledge. Even though he felt he had already done very well—perhaps even exceeded his usual level—he still had to admit that Wang Yan was absolutely right.
"Then what should I do? Should I ask my master for help?"
Xu Shengli had already been introduced to