Our president is stupid and rich

Chapter 52 Painting

Early the next morning, what Fang Zhiyi received was not a script from his manager, but a direct phone call.

At this moment Sheng Chang'an hadn't left the house yet, Fang Zhiyi picked it up: "What's wrong?"

The agent's voice seemed to be a little trembling: "What company's IP is filming! You, you, come to the company! There are other good opportunities!" Then he muttered: "Fortunately, it hasn't been decided yet, fortunately, it hasn't been decided yet come down..."

Fang Zhiyi: "..." Fang Zhiyi hung up the phone.

Seeing that his expression was not right, Sheng Changan asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing." Fang Zhiyi put the phone in his pocket, "My manager asked me to go to the company, it seems that there is something."

"Then let's go together." Sheng Changan picked up his glasses and put them on, "Are you driving or shall I drive?"

Fang Zhiyi picked up the car key: "Let me drive, let's go."

After arriving at the company, just as Fang Zhiyi entered the office, his manager ran over excitedly: "Look, look!"

Before Fang Zhiyi could react, a script came over: "Take a look at this script! Co-director! Screenwriter! Who are they!"

Fang Zhiyi laughed awkwardly at first, then looked down at the script.

What the agent gave him was a simplified version of the script, which just introduced the outline of the script.

This is a movie about the end of the day, the name is "The Painting of the End of the Day". It is roughly said that the protagonist is an ordinary painter who lives in poverty. He has a small house of his own. He paints on his balcony and takes out To sell, but always can't sell.

Until one day, he suddenly awakened the ability to predict the future.

If this ability comes to an ambitious person, it may bring about earth-shaking changes in his life; but for a poor painter with no ambitions, the only function of this ability is to let him predict when he can't afford paint. Look at the lottery numbers at the small lottery station near his home.

Until one day, he foresaw what seemed to be a doomsday scene.

The unknown virus is spreading everywhere, and it is unknown how many people have turned into rotting corpses full of fresh blood and flesh overnight.

If he is a rich man, he may be able to immediately build a strong enough fortress for himself, or go to a safer place; Scientists prepare in advance; but he is nothing, and even telling other people about it will be regarded as a psychopath.

So he just bought a lot of paint, strengthened his residence, and hoarded some food and fresh water, and calmly welcomed the doomsday.

As the sun rose, corpses were everywhere on the street that was peaceful and peaceful last night, and there seemed to be the roar of beast-like humans outside the door.Sitting on the balcony, he seemed to be unaware of these things, drawing as usual.

During the period, several normal human teams passed by and kindly asked him if he wanted to leave together, but he refused.

He continued to paint like this, and the brush recorded the process of the city from its vitality to its silence.

until one morning.

The sun rose and the sky was a beautiful red. He sat on the balcony and wanted to record this moment.

The red paint in his hand had been exhausted in his day-to-day recording of the morning, and he went to the kitchen and took out a fruit knife and cut his wrist.

After many days, the virus was finally wiped out, and the remaining humans began to clean up the human living quarters.

A team member pushed open the door of his small house and exclaimed.

The living room and every room are covered with paintings, and the paintings on the floor are piled up several layers.There is also a dead body holding a paintbrush on the balcony. The painting that has not been removed from the drawing board should be the morning sun drawn with blood, but due to too long time, it has turned into a solidified dark red, and it seems that there is still life in it. Which flows.

On the wall next to it, there seemed to be a few lines written with a paintbrush stained with blood——

Maybe you think what I'm doing is meaningless, but what does it matter.These meaningless things are the meaning of my existence.

The agent watched him turn the last page and asked, "How is it?"

Fang Zhiyi let out a long breath and nodded.

The agent immediately became proud: "This is the recommendation made by the director of the movie you made before, and then I came here for you! You should prepare well, audition on No. 20 in January, and if you pass it, you will join the group after the year. "

"Okay," Fang Zhiyi responded, "When will the script be given? What about audition clips?"

The agent paused and shook his head: "There is no script."

Fang Zhiyi was a little puzzled: "What do you mean?"

The agent explained: "Actually, I'm also a little surprised about this. He gave such an outline. The audition method said that after arriving at the scene, he would randomly perform the clips, and then give the script after deciding who it is."

Fang Zhiyi was silent for a moment, then nodded: "I see."

"I don't have anything else to do during this time." The manager casually flipped through the schedule, "It doesn't matter if the company comes or not, just stay at home and think about the script yourself."

Fang Zhiyi took the script, said goodbye to his manager, and drove away.

First of all... he's going to buy some paint or something and go home.

When Sheng Changan returned to the apartment, he didn't see Fang Zhiyi.He was a little strange, took out his mobile phone and called him.Then there was the sound of the door opening on the second floor, Fang Zhiyi probed: "What's wrong?"

Sheng Changan put away his phone: "It's okay, I'll just see where you've been."

Fang Zhiyi paused, and waved to him: "You come up first."

Sheng Changan felt a little strange, but he still put down the things in his hand and went to the second floor.

That was the room he had prepared for Fang Zhiyi for acting. A huge mirror occupied the entire wall.Painting supplies such as easels, palettes, paints, and brushes were newly added by the window, and some other odds and ends were placed on the floor.

Fang Zhiyi took out the outline of his script and handed it to Sheng Changan. Sheng Changan quickly read it after receiving it: "So, are you planning to learn painting for this role?"

Fang Zhiyi nodded: "Although I can figure out the character of this character, I still have to experience it. But now I can't fully understand the feeling of painting, so..."

Sheng Changan understood: "How do you plan to learn?"

Fang Zhiyi touched his nose: "You know my situation...the audition will be on NO.20 next month, so..." He paused, "Are you going to learn painting with me?"

Sheng Changan was taken aback.

Fang Zhiyi continued: "I plan to ask a teacher to go home to teach a little bit, but for the time being, I only need to learn some basic sketching and watercolors to experience the mood. Anyway, one person is learning and two people are also teaching... "

Sheng Changan's heartbeat suddenly became faster.

His Adam's apple moved up and down, and he made a sound: "It's ok... when exactly?"

"It's all right." Fang Zhiyi leaned against the wall and swayed, "You also know that I don't have to go to the company for more than 20 days, which is more free. Your time is arranged, and you are still busy at the end of the year, so, You say a time."

Sheng Changan looked down at the script still in his hand: "Every day...after lunch and dinner, is that okay?"

Fang Zhiyi took out another drawing board and several long wooden boards from the pile of things on the ground, squatted down and began to assemble the easel: "Then we will be classmates from now on."

Sheng Chang'an guessed that he hadn't heard such a title for many years, so he couldn't help but squat down, "You've already prepared it? What if I don't want to?"

"Then leave this thing for the teacher to use." Fang Zhiyi kept moving his hands, and said with a smile, "If you want to use it now, I will tell the teacher and ask him to bring his own drawing board and easel."

"Is that not good?" Sheng Changan paused, "Have you found it? Do you want me to help?"

"Find it." Fang Zhiyi stood up and stood the two easels side by side, and put the drawing board on it: "Just kidding, I contacted the teacher before, and he said that there is no need to prepare it for him."

Sheng Changan nodded: "That's good."

Fang Zhiyi took another piece of paper and fixed it on, cleaned things up, looked back at Sheng Chang'an and smiled, "Isn't it kind of like that?"

Sheng Changan said "Hmm", "Then let's sharpen the pencil now, and then prepare the paint."

"Now?" Fang Zhiyi walked towards the pile of things, "I planned to wait until the teacher came."

"Let's get everything ready in advance." Sheng Changan followed him, knelt down and took out a knife, pencil, eraser, paint, paint box, and watercolor pen from inside: "Sharpen the pencil, and then get the paint ready." , save a little time."

"Have you studied art before?" Fang Zhiyi was a little surprised, "It feels like you know a lot about these things."

Sheng Changan pursed his lips: "It's sort of."