Chapter 3: Script Complete
Of course, if Zhou Qing were to shoot Buried himself, there was no way he'd need to spend as much as 3 million USD.
After all, it's not like he planned to hire Ryan Reynolds, right?
The primary costs of the film would be limited to equipment rentals, building the coffin prop, and the actor's pay.
As long as Zhou Qing could find someone who was both affordable and capable of carrying the film with solid acting chops, everything else would fall into place.
And could Zhou Qing find such an actor?
At the thought, a sly smile crept onto his face.
If memory served, wasn't a certain future Best Actor also a student in the Class of '02 at BFA?
And before he got his big break in Crazy Stone, his acting career had been anything but smooth.
Let's be honest—with that face, he wasn't exactly leading man material. What respectable production crew would go out of their way to cast someone that… unconventional-looking?
"Damn... this could actually work!"
The more he thought about it, the more Zhou Qing felt his blood pumping.
Making a movie himself—it wasn't just a pipe dream. It was doable.
Driven by a sudden rush of energy, he immediately pulled out pen and paper and began writing the script for Buried.
Maybe it was the side effect of his reincarnation or some amplified spiritual focus, but Zhou Qing found that his memory was unusually sharp. He could recall the structure and scenes of Buried with remarkable clarity.
And now, equipped with near-maxed-out directing skills, recreating the entire script was no challenge at all.
In fact, he could even improve it—make it better than the original.
The only thing that gave Zhou Qing a bit of a headache was the need to "localize" the script—essentially a full Sinicization—and factor in censorship constraints.
But honestly, none of that was a big deal for the current Zhou Qing.
Fueled by passion and inspiration, words flowed from his pen like a river, line after line.
He was completely immersed in his own world—no self, no distractions—just the script and the steady rhythm of his hand.
"Qingzi, what are you writing over there so seriously? Class is over, man!"
It wasn't until Zhu Yawen's voice snapped him out of his trance that Zhou Qing realized the lesson had ended.
"It's over already?"
He blinked in surprise—time had flown.
"Wait… is that a script?"
Luo Jin craned his neck to peek, his eyes going wide. "No way, Qingzi, you can write scripts?"
"What's with that look? It's just a script. Not that hard, you know?"
Zhou Qing shot him a cocky side glance, playing it cool.
"Whoa, you're really laying it on thick today. C'mon, show me what you've got—I gotta pay my respects to this genius!"
Luo Jin reached out for the pages, with Zhu Yawen equally curious and eager.
"Top secret for now. I'll show you when it's done."
Zhou Qing smacked their hands away and quickly gathered up the script pages.
"Secret, huh? What the hell are you writing? Don't tell me it's some kind of… 'adult romance' flick?"
"Get lost! You think everyone's as pervy as you?"
"Okay, okay, you're the serious one. Just don't come begging me for links later."
"Bro, is it too late for me to apologize?"
The three of them joked and laughed their way out of the classroom, leaving a trail of chatter behind.
---
That afternoon, with no more classes, Zhou Qing returned to the dorm with Zhu Yawen and Luo Jin. The two of them immediately started arguing over where to go hang out.
Zhou Qing, however, had no interest in joining the fun. His entire mind was still buried in the world of his script.
His fingers flew across the keyboard, the clack-clack-clack never ceasing.
"Qingzi, you're still messing with that script? Come on, man, take a break!"
"Let's grab some skewers, then hit up karaoke. Luo Jin's paying."
"The hell—weren't you supposed to pay?"
The two of them had already planned their "entertainment itinerary" and were dragging Zhou Qing along.
But Zhou Qing, completely locked in on his work, turned them down flat.
What could they do? Zhu Yawen and Luo Jin had no choice but to leave him behind for now.
And not just that day—for the entire following week, they noticed a serious change in their roommate.
Zhou Qing was like a different person—spacing out all the time, tuning out lectures, skipping hangouts—and whenever he had free time, he was pounding away at that script of his.
Zhu Yawen's curiosity was practically exploding, but every time he tried to sneak a peek, Zhou Qing kept it sealed tight.
---
"Finally, it's done!"
Sunday afternoon. With both roommates off somewhere enjoying life, Zhou Qing—who had been grinding for over three hours—finally leaned back with satisfaction.
He glanced at the screen—two script files—and gave a nod of approval.
That's right: two scripts.
In truth, he'd already finished Buried three days ago. But after thinking it over, he realized there was a real risk it might get rejected.
The film was simply too bleak, its themes danced right on the edge of censorship red lines, and worst of all—it ended in tragedy.
The protagonist still died in the end.
And with how domestic censorship worked, even a localized version might not cut it. The ending was everything, and Zhou Qing wasn't willing to change it.
So just in case Buried got axed, he prepared a backup: another legendary low-budget film—127 Hours.
That movie was also essentially a one-man show. It told the story of a hiker who got his arm trapped under a boulder during an outdoor expedition and ultimately had to amputate it to survive.
Far more "uplifting" than Buried, with no real social critique—basically no chance of censorship issues.
It even got an Oscar nomination. Its rating on Douban was higher than Buried, though the production cost was a bit steeper.
Still, it was doable. Aside from the lead, a few supporting cast members might be needed, but it was a manageable project.
The only thing to consider was that the original was based on a true story—and that accident hadn't even happened yet, not until 2003.
But if Zhou Qing finished the film before then, it was fair game.
Gulp.
He took a swig of water and began planning his next steps.
Now that the scripts were done, the next move was to submit them for review. In the meantime, he'd need to get other preparations underway.
He figured it would be wise to establish a small production studio. That would streamline a lot of things. Then there was the issue of funding… and scouting actors.
There was plenty on his plate.
But for now, the top priority was submitting the script for approval.
Having been a director in his previous life, Zhou Qing was already familiar with the whole process.
He fired up his computer and clicked through the necessary steps—tap tap tap—and within a few minutes, it was done.
Setting up a studio wasn't too difficult either. With the paperwork in order, it was just a matter of making a few trips to the right offices.
The real headache… was the money.
Even if Zhou Qing's plan only required a few tens of thousands of yuan, he couldn't bring himself to ask his family for help.
Forget it. I'll get the studio sorted first, then see which script passes the review. One step at a time.