lcionline Chapter 92 I wonder how you compare to my best partner?
Chapter 92 I wonder how you compare to my best partner?
After his break, Lin Ruiyang returned to editing room 4B on the fourth floor of the Fox post-production building.
These past few days, the two people in the room have been like rats in a sewer, never seeing the light of day.
Only four eyes follow the timecode on the monitor.
Tom's skills are indeed superb, with extremely precise control over rhythm and emotional transitions; while Lin Ruiyang's control over the theme of the entire film allows him to offer highly constructive suggestions at key moments.
The cooperation between the two, which started with initial probing and friction, has finally transformed into an almost terrifying tacit understanding after several days and nights of relentless effort.
"Stop, rewind five frames. Cut out the close-up of Meryl turning her head while wearing sunglasses." Lin Ruiyang sank into the coffee-stained ergonomic chair, his eyes bloodshot.
Tom McCardell's fingers flew across the black CNC keyboard, making a rapid "clack-clack" sound.
Upon hearing Lin Ruiyang's instruction, he habitually raised his slightly harsh eyebrows, but pressed the quick switch button without saying a word.
On the monitor, a ghostly blue light flickered.
After the scene was reassembled, the temporarily mixed urban jazz drumbeats hit the exact point of contact—a fleeting highlight on Miranda's sunglasses, and the next frame suddenly became a close-up of Andy.
"A cunning audiovisual deception." Tom roughly rubbed his sore inner corner of his eye.
Lin Ruiyang reached for his coffee cup, shook it, and found it empty.
That's all for today.
Tom stretched his stiff neck, making a series of teeth-grinding cracking sounds: "It's only four in the afternoon, which doesn't fit your workaholic style these past few days."
"I have a party to attend tonight, so I won't be coming tomorrow." Lin Ruiyang stood up from his chair, picked up his coat draped over the counter, and shook it.
Tom stopped typing, turned around, and stared at Lin Ruiyang as if he were an alien.
"A party? Look at the mess you're making, Lin."
Tom pointed to the young man with sunken eyes reflected in the monitor screen:
"You could go straight to playing Dracula right now, without even needing makeup. Go to a place like Malibu, are you sure you won't scare those A-list celebrities, whose minds are filled with foundation and perfume, into calling the police on the spot?"
"Don't worry, a bespoke suit can mask most of the adrenaline rush."
See you the day after tomorrow, Tom.
Lin Ruiyang waved his hand, pushed open the heavy soundproof door of the editing room, and stepped outside.
After returning to the villa, Lin Ruiyang took a shower to wash away the fatigue that had accumulated over the past few days.
Roger was already waiting for him in the living room, holding the suit that the stylist had brought.
"Madonna's party starts at 8:30 tonight." Roger handed him the suit.
"I've booked a stylist for you, and your outfit is ready. Remember, don't be too serious or too casual at the party. Madonna likes interesting people, but she dislikes pretentious newcomers even more."
Lin Ruiyang changed into a well-tailored dark suit and straightened his collar in front of the mirror: "I know my limits. I'll just show up, chat about movies and music for a bit, that'll be enough."
Two hours later, a black sedan pulled up in front of the private driveway of the Malibu cliff villa.
The villa was brightly lit, the sound of waves mingling with deep, rhythmic music. Beyond the red line outside, a sea of cameras and lenses had already appeared.
However, tonight's party was extremely private, and the paparazzi's telephoto lenses were all kept a hundred meters away by the tall and burly private security guards.
Lin Ruiyang got out of the car, handed the invitation to the gatekeeper, and stepped into the huge manor filled with retro disco style under the guidance of the waiter.
The manor's hall was transformed into a psychedelic dance floor with a distinctly 1970s vibe, where a giant crystal pink neon ball slowly rotated overhead, casting dappled light and shadow on the faces of every Hollywood star in attendance.
"Oh, look who's here! It's Lin, a handsome young man from China!"
Before Lin Ruiyang could even stand up straight, a lazy yet controlling voice rang in his ears.
The crowd parted slightly, and Madonna, with her exquisite golden retro curls, was holding a glass of pink champagne, watching him with a half-smile amidst the flattery of a group of fashion celebrities.
At this time, Madonna was on the eve of another peak in her music career, exuding a powerful and aggressive diva aura.
"Good evening, Ms. Madonna." Lin Ruiyang smiled politely, raised his glass in return, and said, "It's an honor to be invited by you."
Madonna sized him up, a playful smile curving her lips. "I wonder how you compare to my best wrestling partner, John F. Kennedy Jr. (John Kennedy's son)?"
As she spoke, Madonna gave a highly suggestive look.
Several people from the fashion industry who were chatting nearby chuckled softly.
This level of boldness is perfectly normal for Madonna, who is known for her daring, provocative, and unabashed expression of desire.
Lin Ruiyang merely raised an eyebrow slightly, picked up his wine glass, and gently swirled it: "Then we'll probably have to see what the comparison items are first."
The air was silent for half a second, then a burst of laughter erupted from the side.
Even Madonna herself was stunned for a moment, then laughed so hard her shoulders trembled: "God, I'm starting to like you."
She reached out and patted Lin Ruiyang on the shoulder: "At least you're not the bookworm that people say you are."
"Nerds have never been my style, but I'm not the star of the show tonight."
Lin Ruiyang smiled politely and naturally stepped aside to give him half a body space: "Your party, Madonna."
Madonna raised an eyebrow, clearly satisfied with the answer.
She then turned gracefully, preparing to greet the other newcomers, but before leaving, she pointed in a direction:
"Go enjoy the party, handsome young man. But if you can't stand the insincere praise from those film businessmen in the lobby, the open-air terrace at the back is a good place to find some peace and quiet. There are a few old guys hiding there tonight too."
Lin Ruiyang smiled and greeted them, then clinked glasses with several familiar Fox producers in the venue.
The pleasantries and formalities of the world of fame and fortune left him already exhausted and unable to continue. After socializing for half an hour, he naturally took a glass of soda and quietly left the noisy dance floor, pushing open the terrace door that led directly to the beach.
Just a door away, the cool sea breeze from Malibu, carrying a faint salty scent, rushed towards me, instantly dispelling most of the lingering alcohol and heat in my body.
The terrace was dimly lit, with only a few floor lamps emitting a soft, warm glow.
Lin Ruiyang walked to the black marble railing and was about to lean against it to relax when he noticed an old gentleman sitting on a sofa not far away.
He felt the man looked familiar, and then took a few more steps forward. The moment he saw the man's face clearly, he couldn't help but pause slightly in surprise—Paul McCartney.