mesbooks Chapter 307 The Wind is Gentle
Chapter 307 The Wind is Gentle
Chapter 307 The Wind is Gentle
From the moment Secretary Aida flew to Seoul with his legal team to the moment Bong Joon-ho sat in the luxurious reception room on the top floor of the Bukwon Group headquarters with his simple suitcase and an incredulous expression, the whole process took less than three days.
As Bong Joon-ho picked up his cup of premium Blue Mountain coffee and glanced nervously at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bustling streets of Tokyo, he still felt an intense sense of unreality.
Just days before, he and his wife were living in a cramped, damp semi-basement apartment in Seoul that leaked every time it rained, worrying about how much they would spend on instant noodles next month. His screenplays, full of dark humor and class satire, were dismissed as worthless by South Korean filmmakers.
But three days ago, Aida's secretary, dressed in a suit and tie, knocked on his door, bringing not only a long-term director contract that could change his fate, but also a story that seemed like a fairy tale: "a big shot in Tokyo has a great appreciation for him."
As the double wooden doors to the office opened, Kitahara Shin strode in with steady steps.
Bong Joon-ho sprang to his feet like a spring and bowed deeply: "President Kitahara! Hello!"
Bong Joon-ho was certainly familiar with the name Shin Kitahara. Although he was a director who adhered to realism and even had a touch of auteur cinema, he wasn't particularly fond of Kitahara's recent purely commercial popcorn blockbusters like "Boys Over Flowers" and "Resident Evil." But this didn't prevent him from respecting Kitahara's terrifying financial resources and god-like status in the Asian film industry.
"Please sit down, Director Bong. There's no need to be so formal." Kitahara Shin smiled and gestured for him to sit down opposite him.
"President, I really—thank you so much for your appreciation." Bong Joon-ho rubbed his hands together, his tone filled with flattery and disbelief. "I'm just a newcomer with no feature film experience whatsoever; I don't even know how you came to see my outline—I'm truly grateful that you're willing to give me this opportunity, I don't know how to repay you—"
Seeing the future Oscar-winning tycoon looking so flustered now, Kitahara Shin found it amusing.
"I've read your outline for 'Barking Dogs Never Bite'." Kitahara Shin cut to the chase without beating around the bush. "The dark humor and the absurd yet realistic portrayal of the lower classes are incredibly insightful. That's exactly what's rare in the market right now."
When Bong Joon-ho heard Kitahara Shin pinpoint the core of his script, his eyes lit up instantly. The excitement of finding a kindred spirit made him temporarily forget his nervousness.
"From now on, you can stay in Tokyo or go back to Seoul to prepare for your film crew." Kitahara Shin looked at him, his eyes revealing an absolute sense of control. "I can give you as much creative freedom as possible. On set, you're in charge. What kind of cinematic language you want to use, how deep of thought you want to express—as long as it passes censorship, I won't interfere."
Bong Joon-ho was so excited he almost jumped up. In this day and age, finding a boss who doesn't give arbitrary orders and gives directors absolute freedom is harder than winning the lottery!
However, Kitahara Shin's next words were like a bucket of cold water, instantly extinguishing his overheated mind.
"But—" Kitahara Shin changed the subject, his tone becoming calm and realistic, "Director Feng, you need to understand, I'm not doing charity."
"Giving you freedom doesn't mean I'll approve your budget without limits. Your long-term contract clearly states that my funding is not indefinite or unlimited until I'm completely confident in my control over your market."
Kitahara Shin knew all too well that a genius like Bong Joon-ho couldn't be nurtured with endless money from the outset. Unrestrained talent could easily turn into a self-indulgent disaster. Moreover, because of his intervention, the course of history had already shifted. He couldn't guarantee that, under his own privileged circumstances, Bong Joon-ho would still be able to create that kind of timeless masterpiece with its raw, viscous feel.
If it were like investing in "EVA" a few years ago, where Hideaki Anno already had an extremely mature framework and all he lacked was money, then Nobuki Kitahara could have simply thrown money at it without hesitation. But for the fledgling Bong Joon-ho, Kitahara had to use the whip of capital to lash him out and force him to fully unleash his potential.
"Therefore, your film, 'Barking Dogs Never Bite,' must be a low-budget film with strict cost control." Kitahara Shin's gaze was fixed on Bong Joon-ho. "You must use this low-budget film to prove to me your ability to manage the crew, your ability to execute the script, and your true ability to secure funding. Only when you prove yourself will I fully allocate the Kitahara Group's substantial resources to you."
Bong Joon-ho was stunned by Kitahara Shin's superior's tactic of offering incentives before setting rules. He took a deep breath, and instead of feeling discouraged, his inherent stubbornness was completely ignited.
"I understand, President Kitahara." Bong Joon-ho stood up and said with utmost seriousness, "I will definitely create a work that will shock you and everyone else, using the least amount of money. I will not let you down!"
"Very good, I'll be watching. Go and prepare your crew." Kitahara Shin nodded in satisfaction.
After dismissing Bong Joon-ho and firmly placing this crucial future Oscar pawn on the chessboard, Kitahara Shin stretched. He had been working non-stop for some time, from Silicon Valley to Seoul, from Hollywood special effects to mentoring new directors; his nerves had been constantly on edge.
Just as he was about to close his eyes and rest for a while, there was a gentle knock on the office door.
The person who walked in was a face that hadn't been seen for a long time, a face that exuded gentleness and elegance – Takako Matsu.
During this period, as Kitahara Productions continued to expand its reach, Matsu Takako's acting career also flourished. Although she didn't achieve overnight fame across Asia like Shibasaki Kou with "Boys Over Flowers," her position in the film industry has been exceptionally solid. Thanks to her superb acting skills and the resources provided by Kitahara Productions, she has firmly established herself as one of Japan's top actresses, winning several highly prestigious domestic film awards.
However, despite her smooth-sailing career, the relationship between Matsu Takako and Kitahara Shin seems to have remained in a delicate state of "more than friends, but not quite lovers." Especially now that Kitahara Shin's status is so high that he is someone others look up to, this huge difference in status makes Matsu Takako always have an indescribable reserve when she is in his presence.
But today, she seemed to have mustered up her courage.
"Shin-kun—did I disturb your rest?" Matsu Takako walked to the desk, somewhat awkwardly tucking a stray hair behind her ear.
"No, I just finished something. What brings you here?" Kitahara Shin looked at her, his eyes softening considerably.
Matsu Takako took two tickets with gold lettering from her elegant bag and placed them on the table.
"This weekend—it's a very important traditional performance by my father at the Kabuki-za Theater. He gave me two tickets for the inner circle." Matsu Takako took a deep breath, her eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and shyness. "I was wondering—would you have time to come with me? And—it'd be good for relaxing."
Upon hearing the invitation, Kitahara Shin paused slightly. A traditional performance to meet the parents? This was already a very obvious hint.
He looked at Matsu Takako's face, slightly flushed with nervousness, and recalled the girl's quiet companionship and support throughout the years. Kitahara Shin's lips curved into a gentle smile, and he nodded without hesitation: "Alright. It's been a long time since I've appreciated traditional Kabuki. It's my honor."
Seeing Kitahara Shin agree so readily, Matsu Takako visibly breathed a sigh of relief, and a bright smile bloomed on her face.
A weekend evening.
Contrary to popular belief, the two did not go to a Michelin three-star French restaurant that costs tens of thousands of yen per person and requires reservations six months in advance. Although Kitahara Shin is now incredibly wealthy and can afford any kind of luxury, at Matsu Takako's insistence, they went to a secluded alley.
"Although everyone has money now, I feel uncomfortable going to those overly formal, upscale restaurants with Shin-kun," Matsu Takako explained with a smile.
This is a hidden gem of a small, unassuming shop. It's small and operates on a strict reservation system. The owner is a very elderly chef who specializes in classic Japanese home-style stir-fries and stews.
Sitting at the wooden bar, watching the master chef skillfully toss the wok, listening to the sizzling sounds of the pan, and smelling the smoky aroma of soy sauce and mirin, Kitahara Shin's tense nerves completely relaxed at that moment.
This kind of down-to-earth home-style cooking, although not as expensive as caviar and truffles, offers a unique and satisfying experience that you can't find in high-end restaurants.
Here, he wasn't the financial tycoon Hollywood considered a behemoth, but simply an ordinary diner accompanying a girl. The two ate steaming hot tamagoyaki and braised beef tendon while chatting about amusing incidents on set. The warm and relaxed atmosphere made Kitahara Shin feel exceptionally comfortable.
After dinner, the two walked side by side to the brightly lit Kabuki-za.
As Japan's most traditional classical art, Kabuki performances possess a unique, even somewhat slow, artistic tension. Matsu Takako's father was a leading figure in the Kabuki world, and every appearance on stage and every drawn-out note in his singing demonstrated his profound skill honed over decades.
Kitahara Shin sat in the audience, watching the highly ceremonial performance on stage, and felt quite moved.
Whether it's the incredibly realistic CGI zombies he created with hundreds of millions of dollars, or the traditional drama passed down for centuries, the forms of art may change, but the essence of wanting to reach the depths of the audience's hearts through performance remains the same.
As he was lost in thought, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Matsu Takako, sitting next to him, was secretly watching him in the dim stage lights.
Kitahara Shin turned his head and met her eyes, which were clear as water yet filled with endless tenderness.
Kitahara Shin couldn't help but smile.
Over the years, he has built his company to a terrifying level that can influence the Asian economic landscape. He has witnessed too much deceit and treachery in the business world. Whether facing tech giants like Steve Jobs or Hollywood vampires, he can remain ruthless and strategic. His mind has long been hardened to the point of being as solid as ice.
However, whenever he faces these close people around him, especially when he sees Matsu Takako's pure gaze, he always feels that he is still that energetic young man who has just woken up in this world.
Under his protection, his close female friends—Akina, Izumi, and now Matsu Takako—remained untainted by the corrupt entertainment industry. They maintained their youthful and purest mental states. This reinforced Kitahara Shin's belief that a person's age has nothing to do with their biological age; what truly matters is the mental state instilled in them by those around them.
After the Kabuki performance, which lasted for several hours, ended, it was already late at night.
Instead of rushing back by car, the two strolled side by side along the moonlit streets.
"Shin-kun, I saw you were really engrossed in watching you just now," Matsu Takako said softly, walking beside Kitahara Shin. "Your company is growing bigger and bigger lately, and I heard you even turned down an offer from Hollywood. So—what are your plans for the future?"
Kitahara Shin looked up at the bright moon in the night sky and said in a calm but extremely clear tone, "Making money and expanding our territory are just means. My next plan is to further enhance Kitahara Productions' global influence."
He stopped and turned to look at Matsu Takako, his eyes gleaming with an unwavering conviction: "I want to prepare a film that can truly reach the pinnacle of world cinematic art and bring home that Oscar statuette. I want the whole world to know that Asian cinema can not only excel in industrial special effects, but also reach the highest level in artistic depth."
Hearing Kitahara Shin's words, Matsu Takako was slightly lost in thought.
If any other producer or director had said something like that, she would have thought they were delusional and arrogant. That's the Oscars! It's a sacred hall of fame that countless Asian filmmakers can't even dream of reaching.
However, when these words came from Kitahara Shin's mouth, looking at his calm and composed eyes, Matsu Takako felt that this seemingly dreamlike goal seemed to be a natural outcome for the man in front of her.
"You can definitely do it." Matsu Takako nodded very seriously, her eyes full of admiration.
The two walked for a while longer and came to a quiet park bench.
Matsu Takako suddenly stopped, turned around to face Kitahara Shin, took a deep breath, and seemed to have made up her mind.
"Shin-kun—I have a gift for you."
Kitahara Shin paused for a moment, then a gentle smile appeared on his lips as he asked very cooperatively, "Oh? So mysterious? Should I close my eyes?"
"No, no!" Matsu Takako quickly shook her head. She rummaged in her bag and then took out a hand-woven necklace that didn't look particularly expensive.
At the end of the necklace hangs a small, exquisite vintage silver pendant box.
Matsu Takako carefully opened the pendant box. Inside, there were no valuable jewels, but rather a photograph that had been cropped to a very small size but was extremely well preserved.
The photo is a group picture taken when they first went skiing in Hokkaido. Back then, they were all still a bit green, wearing thick ski suits, and smiling brightly in the snow.
"I made this pendant myself." Matsu Takako lowered her head, her voice trembling slightly, as if she was trying her best to suppress her emotions. "Shin-kun—watching you go higher and higher, becoming more and more amazing, sometimes I really feel like you are getting further and further away from me."
"But—" She suddenly raised her head, her clear eyes filled with tears of emotion, looking at Kitahara Shin with utmost sincerity, "No matter what, to have met you in this industry, to have been protected and guided by you, to have seen such a vast and wonderful world, I am so very grateful to you for all of this."
She bit her lip and uttered the confession hidden deep in her heart.
"I may not be able to keep up with your pace of changing the world in my career. I can't be of much help to you either. But I want to tell you—whenever you feel tired and want to look back, I will always stay in the same place. I will leave you with the cleanest villa and a garden that will always be full of flowers."
Hearing the girl's shy yet heartfelt words, Kitahara Shin felt as if his heart was instantly filled with an extremely warm current. The weariness and ruthlessness accumulated from the battles of the business world melted away completely at that moment.
He didn't speak.
Kitahara Shin simply smiled, stepped forward, and stretched out his strong arms to gently, yet tenderly, embrace the girl with slightly red eyes in front of him.
Feeling the incredibly reassuring warmth and scent of Kitahara Shin's embrace, Matsu Takako's face instantly flushed red. She closed her eyes, pressed her cheek tightly against Kitahara Shin's chest, and listened to his strong, powerful heartbeat.
On a street where the hustle and bustle has faded, in a quiet corner of a park.
at this time.
The wind is gentle tonight, and the night is gentle too.
The moon is also very gentle.