Noire: ...
On the sofa, a script wriggles like a silkworm struggling inside its cocoon.
Noire: ...
The newspaper reads, "Shadow Spy Sinks! Noire Churns Out Box Office Bomb!"
Noire: sigh
It's not the Art Exhibit calling. They don't give invites to failures.
Noire: Lin!
High heels rapidly pounding the concrete draw near, followed by the spilling of papers on the ground.
Lin: What's wrong? Ms. Noire?
Noire: Huh? You're always wearing that purple outfit lately. What happened to the other one you used to wear?
Lin: It just got old. I don't wear it anymore.
Noire: Oh? I always liked that one.
Purple 1984
Noire: Who was that on the phone just now?
Lin: Just the usual, telemarketers, nothing important.
Lin sighs as she ponders how long it's been since she stopped reacting to those calls.
Lin: Here's today's paper, the company documents you never bother with, and this is ...
Lin opens the envelope and quickly scans through its contents.
Lin: Blackmail.
Noire: Really?
Noire's interest piques as she reaches out, gesturing for Lin to help her up from the couch.
Noire: Give it here.
Noire: Hmm ... Ms. Noire, hello. If you don't want this photo to go public, deposit ... one, two, three, four ... only four zeros? ... Into this account by tomorrow.
Noire: The deadline was three days ago?
Noire: Lin ...
Noire flashes Lin a reproachful glance.
Lin: Admin assumed it was just more junk mail and tossed it by the shredder. If Shi hadn't found it, we'd probably never even known.
Lin runs her fingers through her messy hair.
Lin: Well, I guess we'd have found out about it from the papers, eventually.
She deftly extracts the entertainment pages from the stack of newspapers, covering a mess of half-eaten noodles and crumpled papers.
Before long, they locate Noire's photo in a corner of the paper.
Noire: Disgraced Director's Dark Turn: Puppet Abuse Shocker!
Lin: Uh ...
The photo was blurry to begin with, and the cheap print has left the picture all but undecipherable.
Noire: Wow, so not even my scandals are worth anything now?
Noire gestures with her hand, sizing up the space with dissatisfaction.
Noire: My picture's even smaller than Aa Zing's!
Lin: Could this have been someone from the crew?
Noire: No, it's just a shot of me directing Aa Zing and the others during a shoot. How dull. It's nothing, just a story about puppets!
Noire folds her arms behind her head, clearly unimpressed.
Noire: I thought they might've dug up something worth giving a flying. Anyway, I should check through those documents.
Lin: It's a reply from another financier.
Noire: Judging from your expression, this doesn't say how happy they are to be investing in the film.
Lin nods.
Noire: ...
But Noire's expected barb never comes. For Lin, its absence brings a twinge of sadness.
Noire: A couple of flops and that "renowned director" title doesn't quite carry the same weight, does it?
Her eyes wander over the awards on the wall, and she chuckles bitterly.
Noire: No hits means no guarantees. These awards are the only things keeping me fed.
Noire: I'll use this one to sip my soup at lunch, and that pointy one with the spear ... that could make for a decent fork ... might be a bit heavy. Oh, and the square one? A perfect candleholder for the table.
Noire rearranges her awards, setting them on the highest shelf of the bookcase. Save for the ones on the far right-hand side, the others have gathered a layer of dust.
Lin: Ms. Noire, please, let's stop joking around for the moment.
Instead, she gazes with utmost reverence at the row of awards.
Affixed to the leftmost award is a Polaroid photograph. The corner of the photo has faded under the steady stream of sunlight filtering through the curtains.
At the center of the photo, Noire, He Rijun, and Qi Xing beam with wide smiles, their hands cradling an award between them.
At that moment, the cast and crew were grounding in behind them, all smiling. It was the first of C07's hits.
Noire: Those were the glory days. Now, look at Shadow Spy. The box office is in the pits, deep in the pits, still I somehow managed to get three awards for it.
Noire: All the accolades, without the audience ... Heh ...
Her eyes don't drift from the shelf.
Noire: Could you take that photo down for me, Lin?
Lin steps forward and hands the photo to her.
Noire: Now, sell whatever can be sold.
Lin: What?
Noire: Sell off whatever can be sold—the company, the awards, the house, the cars ... Just leave the studio as it is.
Lin: But, where are you going to live?
Noire: It will be a shift going forward. But, at least I'll still have this sofa.
She pats the sofa like an old friend. Lin is still in shock, unable to determine if this is just another one of her jokes.
Lin: And then?
Noire: Put everything we've got into In the Spring Bloom.
Lin: You're serious?
There is a momentary pause as she weighs her decision once more, then a nod.
Noire: Shadow Spy, Plain As Day, The Ice of Smøla—three bombs in a row. No one's going to gamble on me now.
Noire: So it's either this or I leave the industry. I need this one. This is my last chance to prove Noire's still worth a damn.
Noire: If that won't raise enough, then I'll set up meetings, make some social connections, and get the funding together, no matter what it takes.
Lin: ...
Lin can't help but examine her employer. Outwardly, she doesn't seem any different, but it feels as though she has undergone a sudden transformation from within.
Social connections? Selling everything that wasn't nailed down? None of this matches the woman she knows, the one who lived in a frozen world of silver salts and two-dimensional film moving frame by frame.
Now it seems she's entered the world of the living at last.
Lin: Ms. Noire, I've never seen you like this before.
Noire smiles at Lin before steering her wheelchair toward the window.
Noire: I realized how much I relied on her until she was gone. Without Teresa, I've got no chance of holding onto my spot in this savage industry.
Noire: So, if I want to stay afloat, let alone dream of reaching our former heights, I need to start employing a "He Rijun" state of mind.
Noire: This film has to be proof of my transformation. I need to put everything on the line to make it happen.
Noire: Because this may be my last shot.
Her smile was beaming in the reflection of the window, and yet it doesn't seem to hold any warmth.
Lin: You're still studying my reaction, aren't you? Always trying to get a read on me?
Noire: You make it sound so insidious.
Her expression disappears from the glass.
Lin: I'll get it done, Ms. Noire.
Lin: Oh, by the way, there's a letter for you from the hospital.
Lin: The doctor wants you to reconsider going to rehabilitation.
Noire: Leave it on the table.
She glances back, but Lin has already left the office. On top of the stacks of tabloid newspapers lies an aqua-blue letter.
Noire: The hospital ...
Noire: That envelope matches the sky today.
Noire sits in front of the window, waiting without a word for Lin's reply, until the sunset paints the sky a deep orange.
Lin: Ms. Noire.
Noire: Oh? You're back.
There is palpable exhaustion in her voice.
Lin: In the Spring Bloom ... You'll need to arrange your shooting schedule.
Noire: Right.
She stretches and, with a soft motion, taps the aqua-blue envelope.
Noire: The doctor can wait. There's something more urgent I need to take care of.
