Regardless of the debate online, regardless of what stories those people in the entertainment media came up with, Fang Zhao simply had no time to pay attention to them. As the filming progressed and Wu Yan's scenes increased, Fang Zhao's screen time decreased, freeing up more time to compose.
The cast and crew also realized that Fang Zhao was spending less time on set. As time went on, everyone started to miss the old days. Without Fang Zhao, the big eater, around them was a bunch of people who couldn't eat. Eating was as difficult as taking medicine, and they had no appetite. As a result, everyone's appetite had decreased.
Therefore, whenever there was a chance, Fang Zhao would be dragged along by the director to eat with everyone else.
That day, Fang Zhao was asked by Director Bai of the Yanzhou chapter's production team to eat a boxed lunch with everyone else.
Others hadn't even finished half of their bento boxes, but Fang Zhao had already finished two and was on to his third.
When Fang Zhao finished his third bento box, Director Bai chuckled and handed him another. "There's still a lot left. Have some more?"
The canteen always sent more over and sent back what they couldn't finish.
Actually, Director Bai was just joking. Who knew that Fang Zhao would nod at the bento box and say, "Thank you."
Director Bai and the other actors stared wide-eyed as Fang Zhao took the fourth bento box and devoured it in large bites.
Seeing that the fourth bento box was almost finished, Director Bai glanced at the other bento boxes on the side, picked one up, and handed it over. "Another one?"
Fang Zhao hesitated. "Thank you, Director Bai, but it's okay."
Everyone in the cast and crew: "... Why are you hesitating?
Director Bai put down the bento box, his eyes still filled with curiosity. "You... Your workload has been reduced so much, but why has your appetite increased?"
Another actor sighed. "It's good to be young. The first one is probably gone before the second one is even finished. It's easy to get hungry at this age."
The others didn't think that was the case. No matter how quickly one consumed food, no matter how easily one got hungry, Fang Zhao had eaten four bento boxes in a row. He could probably finish a fifth one! There were so many young actors in the cast and crew, but the ones who ate the most could only eat two or three boxes. For example, those stunt doubles over there could all eat. It was fine in the past, but now, Fang Zhao had easily finished four bento boxes. It was a little scary.
Director Bai's heart skipped a beat. He asked Fang Zhao with concern, "Are you under a lot of pressure?"
Fang Zhao thought about it and nodded. "A little."
Filming was fine, but composing was a little tight. Going directly to Mo Lang was an opportunity, but also a test. According to normal procedures, other people would have to go through a first and second trial. However, if he went to Venerable Mo's side, according to Venerable Mo's personality, he would either decide to stay or reject directly. There was no room for buffer.
It would be a lie to say that he didn't feel any pressure, but he wasn't as worried as the others. Fang Zhao decided that if this piece of work was rejected by Mo Lang, he would reveal it during his next solo performance. Now, he just needed to do his best to complete this work.
However, in the eyes of others, Fang Zhao's "a little" pressure meant that he was under a lot of pressure.
Director Bai was worried. But this kind of thing was too common in the crew. It would be strange if they didn't feel pressured. He patted Fang Zhao on the shoulder and let out a long sigh. "It hasn't been easy for you either."
It wasn't easy for a young actor to shoulder such a heavy burden! Fortunately, Fang Zhao played his role very well. The netizens praised him more than criticized him. With the start of season nine getting closer and closer, Fang Zhao was definitely under a lot of pressure. All the actors in the crew were the same. The closer they got to the point of death, the more restless they became.
Director Bai knew that Fang Zhao often went to the concert hall, so he didn't think too much about it. He just thought that Fang Zhao went to listen to performances to adjust his mood. The director team was busy filming every day and simply had no time to pay attention to other things. Naturally, they didn't know that Fang Zhao spent most of his time composing.
Nighttime.
Fang Zhao was in his dormitory, finishing up the final touches. In the quiet room, the nib of the pen scratched against the paper.
When he finished writing the last note, endless exhaustion seemed to seep out from his bones.
Tired.
Extremely tired.
Much more tiring than continuous high-intensity filming.
Fang Zhao stared at the paper notebook in his hands in a daze. After a while, he smiled. "This is it."
If he took it out, he would definitely be questioned. Logically speaking, a person in his twenties couldn't possibly compose such a piece, but when he started writing, Fang Zhao had already mentally prepared himself.
He turned off the room's air circulation system, walked over to the window, opened it, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath of the cold, dry, dusty air.
The smell of dust filled his nostrils and rushed into his lungs.
The terrible climate of the filming location, regardless of whether it was day or night, should have made people feel uncomfortable, but at this moment, Fang Zhao felt incomparably comfortable.
His exhaustion was blown away.
Relaxed. It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted.
After enjoying the cold, dusty air for a while, Fang Zhao closed the window and returned to his desk. He took out a special piece of music sheet and a special pen from a drawer and wrote the completed score on it.
The music sheet, pen, and a special folder for submissions were equipment used by the music team for submissions. They were impervious to normal fire and water.
There was no electronic version, only a manuscript.
After he finished writing, he placed the manuscript into the folder and sealed it with a special seal.
The seal was a combination lock. Once it was sealed, only a qualified reviewer from the music center could open it. The time of opening and the person opening it would be recorded.
The next day, Fang Zhao didn't have any filming assignments.
He went out for a run in the morning, then returned to wash up and change into a fresh set of clothes. He placed the folder in his backpack and took the bus to the music center.
Some musicians on the bus were surprised to see Fang Zhao. Usually, they didn't see Fang Zhao at this time in the morning. In the past, Fang Zhao was always on the bus heading to the filming location.
There were also people who asked about Fang Zhao and Mo Lang. The news of Mo Lang stopping Fang Zhao at the music center and asking him to submit his work had already spread among the music team. Many people didn't think too much about it. Although there weren't many people with this kind of privilege, there were at least 20 or so. Fang Zhao wasn't the only one, so most people just treated it as entertainment. They felt that Mo Lang probably thought highly of Fang Zhao as a junior or that he already knew Fang Zhao.
No one dared ask Mo Lang. As for Fang Zhao … they couldn't get anything out of him. Today, seeing Fang Zhao actually come to the music center so early in the morning, everyone's curiosity was piqued again.
A few people couldn't contain their curiosity. When they arrived at the music center, they thought they were stealthy and followed Fang Zhao to take a look. Then, they sent live updates to other acquaintances.
"Fang Zhao's route seems like he's going to look for Venerable Mo!"
"He really went there! He's headed that way! "
"He took out a folder from his bag. It's a folder used for submissions. The kind that's already sealed! He really came to submit his work! "
Soon, more and more people at the music center found out that Fang Zhao had gone to Mo Lang to submit his work.
"To be able to leave an impression on Venerable Mo and have the privilege of submitting directly, he must be very talented. I really want to take a look at the manuscript he submitted."
"I've heard Fang Zhao's work. It's very infectious. The few songs from the Period of Destruction have a strong story."
"I remember now. Fang Zhao, right? That genius who sold all the copyrights to his works at a high price before the concert even ended! I think he's only in his twenties? Especially young fella. There was a time when I often used him to strike a few of my unambitious students. "
"Are all newcomers so strong now? This senior of mine is under a lot of pressure. "
Fang Zhao didn't know what these people were secretly discussing, but he knew that someone was following him. They didn't have any ill intentions. They were just curious if he was going to Venerable Mo's place. He didn't feel like there was a need to hide this. He just pretended he didn't know there were people following him.
Mo Lang was an old artist with a high status. His meals and lodging were all at the music center. His place of residence was also where he worked. Fang Zhao didn't meet Mo Lang directly. The person in charge was one of Mo Lang's assistants.
Mo Lang was a treasure artist. He had bodyguards, assistants, and medical staff. Other artists were allowed one assistant at most, but Mo Lang had brought four! This was the privilege that someone of Mo Lang's status could enjoy!
The assistant who received Fang Zhao was in charge of submitting his work.
The assistant took the folder Fang Zhao handed over. After checking the seal, he smiled politely. "You can go back first. I will pass the manuscript to Venerable Mo."
As he spoke, the assistant pointed to the side. "There are surveillance cameras. I won't leak your manuscript or illegally take over your work."
"Thank you. Then I won't disturb you any further. "Fang Zhao didn't stay any longer. He left after submitting his work.
However, he didn't leave the music center. Instead, he went to see the recording studio of his seniors.
The top five orchestras in the world were all here. Many of the symphonic pieces in the series were composed by them.
Just because you composed a piece didn't mean that you could immediately ask them to record it. Impossible.
Resources were limited. If you didn't reach that level and didn't receive enough recognition, you didn't even have the right to apply for a recording. You simply couldn't invite them. Big orchestras also had their own pride.
The music center actually had its own set of rules. Competition was everywhere. Strength spoke loudest.
If a composer's manuscript didn't pass the first review, they had to be more self-aware and stay where they were. This bunch of orchestras wouldn't pay attention to them.
After passing the second review, the composer would at least have the confidence to speak up. No matter what, they would have passed the first round, right? Applying for a better recording studio or rehearsal hall would also have a better chance than those who didn't pass the first review.
When the judging panel approved your manuscript, you would be able to straighten your back. You wouldn't even need to apply for it. All the resources you needed would naturally be allocated to you.
Fang Zhao, like the others who had the same goal, quietly sat in the seat that had been arranged for bystanders.
High-grade digital audio systems gave people a very good impression of the scene, but that kind of effect wasn't really "live." Only the human ear was truly "holographic."
Even if the most advanced digital audio systems could produce a live impression that could fool the average person, people in this industry all had very sensitive ears and could still distinguish the difference. This was also why, in the technologically advanced New Era, many people still liked to go to concert halls to listen to performances. Some people did it to show off, while others really liked this kind of live impression.
Listening to it live, Fang Zhao could hear the reverberations that the sound recordists had artificially muted. He could hear the faint reverberations that ordinary people couldn't hear, the weakening of the piano notes.
While Fang Zhao was watching the recording, Mo Lang finally came out from his morning work. He hated being disturbed when he was thinking about composing. No matter who it was, they would be shut out by his assistant.
The moment Mo Lang came out of his workshop, four assistants got to work, serving tea and massaging him. Their cooperation was well-practiced.
"Venerable Mo, this is the folder that Fang Zhao delivered this morning," the assistant who had received Fang Zhao said.
"Who?" Mo Lang asked.
"Fang Zhao," the assistant repeated.
Mo Lang had a blank look on his face. Who was Fang Zhao?
Seeing Mo Lang like this, the assistants were already used to it. Even if Mo Lang had just met someone yesterday, he wouldn't remember anything when he was busy, so they continued to remind him. "Fang Zhao, from Yanzhou, a very young fellow. His representative work is the four movements of the '100-Year Period of Destruction.' He said that you asked him to submit it directly."
There was no need to say much, and there was no need to mention what important role Fang Zhao had played in the series. Venerable Mo didn't care about that and wouldn't remember it. All they needed to do was mention Fang Zhao's representative work.
Sure enough, the moment the "100-Year Period of Destruction" was mentioned, Mo Lang found the right person.
"Oh, it's him. Yes, I asked him to submit it directly. Has that little fella already brought the manuscript over? "
The reason Mo Lang remembered Fang Zhao was because for the arduous task at hand, he had specially gone to listen to some outstanding works related to the Period of Destruction.
There weren't many works that had left an impression on Mo Lang, including the four movements of Fang Zhao's "100-Year Period of Destruction." For this reason, Mo Lang had specially searched for Fang Zhao's personal information and other works. They were all excellent works, but Mo Lang only looked for works that had elements of the Period of Destruction. Listening to Fang Zhao's "100-Year Period of Destruction" had also made his brain the most active.
As the chief adjudicator, Mo Lang had flipped through all the submissions when he returned, but he hadn't found Fang Zhao's submission. He had even specially checked again. Coincidentally, he had seen Fang Zhao at the concert hall the next day and had felt that Fang Zhao looked a little familiar, so he had stopped to ask.
Now that he heard that Fang Zhao had finally submitted his work, Mo Lang set aside his tea, took the folder, opened it, and took out the manuscript inside.
People at their level didn't need any supplementary equipment. Just by looking at the music score and the manuscript, they could roughly form the main body of the work in their heads.
Before even reading two lines, Mo Lang's eyebrows furrowed. His other hand, which was resting on his thigh, was slightly raised and waved, as if he was conducting an orchestra, just to a lesser extent.
The four assistants saw Mo Lang's eyebrows furrowed and thought that Mo Lang didn't like Fang Zhao's work, but looking at it again, it didn't seem like he was dissatisfied. If he was really dissatisfied, Mo Lang could just toss the manuscript aside and not look at it. Based on their experience of following Mo Lang for so long, Mo Lang should be rather engrossed.
So was he satisfied or dissatisfied?
The four assistants moved softly to avoid making noise that would disturb Venerable Mo.
Mo Lang sat there and finished reading the manuscript page by page.
Then he went through it once more.
And once more.
...
After repeating this five times, not only did his eyebrows not relax, they actually furrowed even more.
Shifting his attention away from the manuscript, Mo Lang looked at the composer's name written on the manuscript and asked in disbelief, "Did Fang Zhao bring it over himself? Did anyone come with him? "
"No, it's just him," the assistant in charge of reception replied.
Mo Lang took a deep breath. It was as if he was asking someone else, but also as if he was asking himself, "Did he really write this himself?"
Mo Lang thought back. Fang Zhao's face was already very blurry in his mind, but there was one thing he was sure of: Fang Zhao really wasn't that old!
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