Blackstone Code-Chapter 377: Attitude and Choices

After an impressive premiere, while people pursued various artistic styles and film depths, a truck driver unrelated to art showed that there is a kind of film that has little to do with art but attracts more attention than art films.

After the premiere, Lynch didn’t leave immediately. The Foxes had arranged for some well-known documentary directors and screenwriters in the industry to meet and talk. What Lynch hadn’t expected was that James was also there.

James looked slightly awkward when he saw Lynch. He opened his mouth to speak but glanced toward the Foxes nearby. In the end, he called out Mr. Lynch, not Boss.

That simple form of address revealed James’s current status—he no longer saw Lynch as his direct superior at work.

“I didn’t know you had left. Cook never told me,” Lynch said without much reaction. “Are you working at Fox Films now?”

James’s embarrassment faded as Lynch’s calm attitude eased some of the tension he felt from what he perceived as a betrayal. He nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry…”

James’s move from Cook’s team to Fox Films was partly because of his unique talent in screenwriting. He wasn’t a rigid academic type; he always sought to show depth through subtle details.

A truck driver had no depth—if anything, that depth belonged to the road girls, not them.

James’s scripts had a strong personal style, but the films didn’t get great reviews, possibly due to directors and editors.

Everyone knows there are countless good stories, but good directors are rare across the federation. Directors outrank screenwriters, and editors also hold high status.

Seeking a breakthrough, James began learning to become a good director, which left him little time for trucking. The Foxes hoped he would switch to Fox Films to help them. After two talks with Cook, James quit the trucking team.

He had his reasons. Being a truck driver, no matter how well he did, meant ending up like Cook—middle management with a salary barely better than drivers, spending life in that role.

That wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to turn his ideas into reality, make enough money to put his mother in a big house. To do that, he had to earn more, and faster.

Joining Fox Films was a good choice. The Foxes were just starting out, building their team. Joining early meant becoming a founding member, with resources likely favoring him and a high chance of success.

What made him uneasy was feeling a bit guilty toward Lynch—like it was a betrayal.

But Lynch seemed unconcerned. He patted James on the arm. “I’m also a major shareholder in Fox Films. I’m still your boss. Don’t think changing workplaces means escaping me!”

He spoke jokingly, easing James’s nervousness. “Sorry, boss, you know…”

Lynch cut him off. “People need ideals, James. I’m glad those around me find their own dreams and the right path to pursue them. When you’re ready to direct alone and need support, call me.”

James was touched. Though Fox Films wasn’t big yet, internal power struggles were already surfacing—mostly about project approvals.

Which projects get funding, which receive attention—screenwriters and directors competed fiercely. Having Lynch’s backing would smooth James’s future in the company. ȑ₳Ν𝘰฿Е𝐬

At that moment, the Foxes and two middle-aged men with messy beards and baseball caps walked in.

In recent years, in the Lardimore film circle, a full beard had almost become the director’s trademark. Without it, you lost points in negotiations. Everyone started growing beards.

“This is the chief director of Minority,” Mr. Fox introduced the first bearded man—famous but controversial.

Minority was the most influential documentary in the federation in recent years, exposing the hypocrisy of the federation by revealing immigrant and indigenous life in detail.

Because of it, many realized how ugly and evil the federation was. Except for a few wealthy investors and researchers, labor immigrants and natives faced despair.

Discrimination, humiliation, indifference, violence, crime—almost every social ill struck them, delivering a harsh slap to the federation’s claim of equality and freedom.

It was said some people smashed the director’s car and sent him bullets.

Despite this, he gained fame. After surviving those troubling times, he was well-known, though ironically, he hadn’t gotten new work since.

When Mr. Fox discussed needing a documentary director within their circle, this man heard about it and called that same night, pleading for consideration.

The other bearded man was also well-known but in a different way. He excelled at portraying the federation’s positive side, making feel-good social documentaries like Federal Families.

He followed six families of different classes to show how they solved the same problems with varying reactions—joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness. Sometimes it felt like a TV drama, but it was documentary.

Also present were several screenwriters. Mr. Fox casually mentioned their names without notable works.

Screenwriters held low status unless they were big-name originals, but even then, their rank wasn’t high.

Every year, studios receive thousands of scripts, many excellent. When a big company liked one, they’d buy the filming rights cheaply.

So even with notable works, writers rarely profited beyond a few bonuses for sequels. Asking for royalties or shares was a joke.

After introductions, they sat down, and Lynch shared his idea. “I plan to fund a documentary about federation citizens in Nagaryll, showing their struggles overseas and eventual achievements from multiple angles.”

This was the foundation; everyone nodded and noted keywords: overseas, struggle.

Someone raised a question. “Mr. Lynch, why Nagaryll and not places like Gephra?”

It was the director who had previously exposed the federation’s flaws, asking a sharp, realistic question.

“Without your experience and recent events, people might never pay attention to Nagaryll,” he said. “Forgive my bluntness, but I don’t even know where it is on the map. Yet most federations are interested in Gephra.”

“Culture, economy, military, politics, society—everything there fascinates the federation. A documentary about federation citizens in Gephra might have a much bigger impact.”

The director was right, but Lynch didn’t want to encourage federations to go to Gephra, where they wouldn’t have conveniences or support.

He couldn’t say this directly, so he expressed it differently: “That can come later. For now, our contact with Nagaryll is frequent. Once we establish diplomatic relations, significant capital will flow in to jointly develop the country with the local government.”

“People know nothing about Nagaryll, so we need to give them some understanding. This will help find paths in the coming great era.”

Mr. Fox sighed admiringly, “Great vision, my friend Lynch!”

Lynch smiled and nodded, “Thank you for your praise, Mr. Fox.”

No one pressed further. Lynch continued sharing ideas. These people were truly renowned for a reason. They quickly outlined practical content.

For example, which angles the documentary should explore. Lynch was particularly interested in the progression from illegal → legal → above the law.

This idea came from the director who had exposed the federation, who said that if people want to understand Nagaryll, they need to see the real Nagaryll.

Going to an unknown place to develop, struggle, and fight isn’t for grand ideals or lofty sentiments—he lightly mocked Lynch and Fox’s earlier mutual flattery, which they both ignored.

He believed that if people were truly going to watch the documentary, the best way was to pack a bag and buy a ticket to Nagaryll, showing an authentic “exploitative society.” It would reveal how to make money there—how to earn what they couldn’t make back in the federation.

This wouldn’t even be a documentary about federation citizens living and working in Nagaryll. It would be a documentary on how to quickly make money in Nagaryll.

That guy was truly a genius. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

So Lynch chose the other director.