"We did not insult your character," Zhao Miao said with a grin. "We merely discussed certain people's height. That is a fact—a fact everyone can see with their own eyes."
Zhao Miao's words drew smiles of agreement from everyone. Even Mr. James could not help curling his lips.
Unable to endure the ridicule any longer, Murashita Shuichi solemnly lodged a complaint with Mr. James, claiming that the Oscar should not have nominated Huaxia's Autumn Dew White for Best Foreign Language film. It was an insult to the other films.
Faced with Murashita Shuichi's persistent and rude pestering, Mr. James, who had remained composed throughout, frowned in displeasure. "I believe the Academy Awards selection standards are strict and fair. We have the most mature and comprehensive evaluation system. We know how to do our jobs and do not need an outsider to instruct us."
"Mr. Murashita, have you watched Autumn Dew White?" Mr. James suddenly asked.
Murashita Shuichi froze and instinctively shook his head. As a Japanese man with deeply ingrained anti-Huaxia prejudice, he had always looked down on Huaxia films. Why would he deliberately seek one out to watch?
"But I have watched it." Mr. James's expression was grave. "I like this film very much, and I personally advocated for Autumn Dew White to be nominated for the Oscar Best Foreign Language Film. Fortunately, everyone approved of my proposal. As a professional filmmaker, Mr. Murashita, you insist that Autumn Dew White is unqualified for an Oscar Best Foreign Language Film nomination without even having seen the film. So tell me: when you make such inappropriate remarks in public, are you questioning my judgment and the Academy Awards review process, or are you insulting your own professional ethics and character?"
Had Murashita Shuichi properly investigated the chairman of the Academy Awards