John Brooks hurriedly said, "I shouldn't have taken your car, drunk your Perrier, and even less should I have spoken rudely to you. The worst was mistaking you for someone else in front of others. It's all my fault. Can you forgive me?"

Ethan Sullivan got goosebumps, relieved that no one was passing by, or else they'd think they were acting out some emotional drama.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "Go back, and don't bother me again."

John Brooks felt a bit more at ease, and at the same time, Ethan Sullivan opened the door.

Just as Ethan Sullivan was about to enter, John Brooks suddenly remembered the most important thing he had forgotten to explain—the very thing Ethan Sullivan had warned him about before leaving the private room.

"Teacher Sullivan!" John Brooks dashed forward and braced the door with his hand.

Ethan Sullivan was startled by the arm beside him and the subwoofer behind, and turned back impatiently. "What now?"

John Brooks's expression was utterly sincere, and he said, word for word, "You absolutely do not look like my dad."

Ethan Sullivan was stunned for a few seconds, then replied, just as sincerely, "I wouldn't want a son like you either."

After saying this, he noticed John Brooks's eyes widen slightly, looking a bit dazed and at a loss. He remembered that when John Brooks toasted, he had mentioned growing up in a single-parent family.

Maybe he shouldn't have said that to someone who only had a father.

Unexpectedly, John Brooks suddenly replied, "Damn, my dad said the same thing."

Chapter 9

On set, faint light crept slantwise up the apartment building—the day had dawned.

All departments were busy preparing; after a night of revelry, everyone was up before dawn to start work, each looking like a bleary-eyed chicken.

Unit 1, Room 101, a two-bedroom apartment used as the director's lounge, still couldn't hide its age despite cleaning and renovations. William Carter was too busy to come by much.

Ethan Sullivan walked through each room; whether shabby or old, any unsightly trace was swept over by his gaze. It seemed to him that this rundown place was no different from a luxury hotel suite.

Back in the living room, breakfast and espresso were set on the coffee table—two servings. William Carter was eating one of them.

Ethan Sullivan walked over and nudged the laptop aside. "Don't get my computer dirty."

William Carter asked, "You're really staying in this place? Doesn't the oldness bother you?"

Ethan Sullivan replied, "Once the door's closed, it's quiet."

The RV had been rented early in the morning, but Ethan Sullivan joining the crew was unplanned. Adding another vehicle wasn't a big deal, but the parking spot was next to the actors, which he found annoying.

"Alright, then you use it." William Carter opened his coffee and downed it in one gulp. "I have to get to work, but why are you here so early?"

Ethan Sullivan said, "I came to get the storyboard script from you. I was afraid if I came late, you'd be too busy."

There were many restrictions on the script, and the standards often changed at a moment's notice. What might be a hot topic at the time of approval could become a banned example by the time filming was done.

Ethan Sullivan had some personal connections and had shown the script to internal censors. Last week, he got word that certain scenes and lines needed to be adjusted.

Editing or dubbing in post-production would inevitably affect the final result. He and William Carter decided that he would join the crew to revise the script and handle any issues early on.

Ethan Sullivan opened his laptop. "I've finished the revision outline. When making specific changes, I'll need to refer to your storyboard script, so I can minimize changes to the shots and save you some effort revising the storyboard."

"Thanks, man." William Carter stared at the screen. "It's hard to estimate how long script changes will take. How about this: you revise a scene, I shoot a scene, and we review the sample footage in real time to see the effect."

Ethan Sullivan had no objections. "Scene 14 doesn't need much change. I can finish it before noon. We can try shooting it this afternoon, and if it goes well, we'll stick to this process."

William Carter thought for a moment. "Isn't that a bit rushed? You need to leave me time to revise the storyboard, and after that, I still have to discuss shooting details with the camera crew."

Ethan Sullivan didn't comment. He picked up a pen next to the laptop and spun it quickly from the base of his thumb to his pinky and back.

After five or six seconds of silence, he said, "How about I do a rough revision of the storyboard for you, lay the groundwork?"

William Carter hesitated. "Well..."

His fingernail tapped the pen barrel, and Ethan Sullivan gave a slight smirk. "I'm just kidding."

William Carter laughed. "The storyboard is the director's job. If I hand it off to you, I'd be shirking my duties. How about this: after you finish revising, let's call all the team leads for a meeting, polish it together, and aim to shoot this afternoon."

Ethan Sullivan let it go. "Alright, I'll follow your lead."

William Carter said, "Then I'll make the arrangements. When we're shooting, stay with me and keep an eye on the scenes. If there's a problem, speak up directly. Behind the camera, we're all on the same team."

Ethan Sullivan said, "I'll do whatever Director Ren says."

William Carter had finished eating. "I have to get to work. If you need anything, just tell Little Michael."

"Alright," Ethan Sullivan said. "Thanks for your hard work."

William Carter picked up his bag and stood up. At the door, he grabbed the handle but didn't turn it right away.

He looked back at Ethan Sullivan, hesitated for a moment, then suddenly said softly, "Bro, you mentioned revising the storyboard—do you want to experience what it's like to be a director?"

Ethan Sullivan said, "Why do you ask?"

William Carter replied, "Back in sophomore year, the short film you directed won first prize. When you accepted the award, you said being a director was your dream."

Ethan Sullivan smiled. "Just something to say for the occasion. You actually believed it?"