Huayu: I Have a Doraemon

Chapter 41 I'll Do It

3 PM, Beijing Film Academy office building.

Zhang Hua sat by the window in his office. Seven or eight student assignments were spread out on his old-fashioned desk, with a red ballpoint pen lying to one side.

The performing arts department also has written assignments.

Character biographies, script analyses, various creative notes... While it doesn't require the meticulous attention to detail of a literature major, the necessary format and depth are still essential.

Zhang Hua picked up a document, read two lines, frowned slightly, and wrote "vague" in the corner.

Just as I was about to turn to the next one, my hand stopped.

For some unknown reason, he irritably threw the pen aside, leaned back in his chair, and began to breathe heavily.

Knock knock knock.

A knock came at the door.

Zhang Hua didn't even look up, his tone was curt:

"Come in."

The door was pushed open a crack, and a tall, thin boy poked half his body in, looking hesitant, holding a few pieces of paper in his hand.

"Teacher Zhang... I've come to hand in my homework..."

"Then hurry up and bring it over!"

Zhang Hua said irritably, "What are you dawdling about!"

The boy shuddered, pushed open the door, and handed the homework to the table with utmost care, as if he were defusing a bomb.

Zhang Hua took it, but didn't flip through it; instead, his gaze pierced through it like a knife.

"How many days have I assigned this homework?"

"Three, three days..."

"You still know it's three days!"

Zhang Hua said angrily, "I told you to be more serious, to practice more on your own, and to look at other people's manuscripts in the literature department, but you just wouldn't listen!"

The boy lowered his head, his lips moved slightly, but he managed to squeeze out only one word:

"......yes."

He felt incredibly wronged. He was just a performing arts student, and what he submitted was a character sketch, not a script. Why should he be held to the standards of a literature major?

But he dared not say it.

Teacher Zhang Hua is unusually irritable today; he'd better behave himself.

Just then, there was another knock on the door.

Zhang Hua frowned instinctively, about to say something, when the door was pushed open.

A figure walked straight in, showing no intention of waiting outside.

The tall, thin boy's eyes widened, and he subconsciously gasped.

Who is this guy? So brave! He actually dared to push open the door to Professor Zhang Hua's office?

But then, the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

This is going to be interesting.

He quietly moved half a step to the side, making room for "observation".

Zhang Hua looked up, saw who it was, paused for a moment, and subconsciously said:

"Why are you here?"

The visitor said, "I'm asking about someone. Is that convenient?"

Zhang Hua glanced at him, remained silent for a moment, and then waved to the tall, thin boy who was still standing there in a daze:

"You can go out now."

The tall, thin boy's mouth was slightly open, and his eyes were wide open.

That voice, that tone... Is this still the same Teacher Zhang Hua who just moments ago looked like he wanted to devour him?

His gaze swept back and forth between the figure and Zhang Hua twice, his mind buzzing.

Who is this person?

He spent three years at the Beijing Film Academy, where there were hundreds of people in the department. Even if he couldn't remember their names, he was at least familiar with their faces—there was definitely no such person in the acting department!

Seeing that he was still standing there, Zhang Hua's temper flared up again, and he slammed his hand on the table:

"What are you standing there for! Get out!"

The tall, thin boy shuddered in fright, instinctively turned around, and practically scrambled towards the door.

As he was leaving, he couldn't help but turn back and give that figure a resentful look.

The door closed behind me.

The tall, thin boy didn't leave immediately; instead, he stood in the corridor, listening intently.

Zhang Hua's voice came from inside, gentler than he had ever heard before, even somewhat cautious:

Have you eaten?

"Would you like some tea? I have some newly arrived Longjing tea."

The tall, thin boy stood still, looking up at the ceiling.

—This acting department is better left unfinished!

……

……

in the room.

Lin An sat down in the chair opposite Zhang Hua and said softly:

"You should treat students more gently; otherwise, you'll leave them with psychological trauma."

Zhang Hua waved his hand and said irritably:

"If they were more assertive, who would want to get angry at them?"

Lin An neither confirmed nor denied this.

He picked up the teacup that Zhang Hua pushed towards him, blew away the foam, and took a sip.

"Hmm, it's impossible to tell whether it's good or bad..." Lin An praised without changing his expression.

"Good tea."

Zhang Hua's lips curled up slightly, then he quickly suppressed it, his tone returning to its usual calm:

"Tell me, who are you asking about?"

Lin An put down his teacup: "He Yuwen."

A hint of surprise flashed in Zhang Hua's eyes. He leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze lingering on the young face opposite him for two seconds.

"Why are you asking about him?"

Lin An did not explain.

Zhang Hua was silent for a moment, then unconsciously tapped his fingers twice on the armrest before carefully saying:

"When he was young, he worked at the Shanghai Animation Film Studio, where he assisted in the production of many short films. In 91, CCTV established an animation department and attracted a group of Shanghai Animation Film Studio staff with policies and funding, and he was one of them."

At this point, Zhang Hua's eyes became complicated:

"Although he is young, he has participated in many big productions. He was one of the original animators for 'Nezha Conquers the Dragon King' and 'Three Monks'. If he hadn't always insisted on making film-level animations, he probably would have joined the system long ago."

The fact that the Shanghai Animation Film Studio was not profitable was its fatal flaw, and CCTV was naturally unwilling to repeat the same mistake. Animators with He Yuwen's personality were not very popular.

However, the other party eventually came to teach at the Beijing Film Academy, thus giving back to the animation industry in this way, so it can be considered that he got what he wanted.

"You've been trying to find out what he's really up to?" Zhang Hua asked again.

Lin An still didn't answer, but stood up and pointed to the landline on the table, saying:

"Can I make a phone call?"

Zhang Hua glanced at him, said nothing, and simply raised his hand and waved it toward the landline.

Lin An got up and walked to his desk, picked up the receiver, pressed the button, and after a while, the receiver beeped as if waiting for the call to be connected.

"Feed?"

A slightly hoarse voice came from the other end of the phone.

"Old Zhao, I am Lin An."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a rustling sound, as if someone was shifting their body to a more comfortable position.

"What is it?"

Lin An glanced at Zhang Hua and said calmly:

"Could you please pass a message to Doraemon and tell him to bring some paper to the west gate of Beijing Film Academy?"

"Paper? What paper?"

"Just say that, he knows the details."

The person on the other end of the phone mumbled something along the lines of "very mysterious," but still agreed.

"Okay, I understand."

Lin An hummed in agreement and hung up the phone.

The office was silent for a few seconds.

Zhang Hua sat in a chair, his hands clasped in front of his abdomen, and said calmly:

"He Yuwen is capable and has connections at higher levels, but he's not in the film and television industry, so he can't help you with that matter."

"I don't intend to resolve this through him."

Lin An said indifferently:

"This is my business, and I will rely on myself."