Black Technology Director Can Make Anything Come True (5): Regret too late

Si Qi watched with a smile as Xiu Xiu acted spoiled and clingy in his consciousness space. Then he turned his head and heard Si Lin say to him: “Brother, there’s an international short film competition, a really high-profile one. Do you want to join?”

Since coming into this world, Si Lin could be said to have done nothing else but focus entirely on his brother.

Earning money to buy things for his brother, thinking about how to deal with that black-tech system for his brother, and even searching everywhere for ways to help his brother achieve his dream—he was truly the most perfect model of a devoted younger brother.

Si Qi, full of interest, said: “A short film competition? What are the rules?”

Si Lin hurriedly pulled out his new phone (note: it was a matching blue-and-black model with his brother’s), opened the detailed rules, and showed them to Si Qi.

The text was all in foreign languages, but the two brothers had no trouble reading it. Si Qi thought for a moment and said: “Submissions close in a month. I should be able to make it.”

Si Lin’s eyes lit up brightly: “I’ll help Brother with it!”

Whether it was video editing, carrying the camera, or going out for shooting locations—he could do it all!

Si Qi thought about it and said: “Alright, if Brother needs help, I’ll come find you.”

Xiu Xiu refused to be left out: [Master, master! I’m great with computers! I can edit a hundred movies a day without stopping!!]

Si Qi: [Alright, then Xiu Xiu can help too.]

Xiu Xiu spun excitedly in the air: [Yay—!]

The black-tech system lay lazily in the consciousness space, rolling over: [= =]

It was as if it was watching a playboy toying with two fish in a pond, and those two fish were even raising themselves happily and willingly.

—

The competition didn’t restrict content or themes, only the duration: the short film had to be within five to ten minutes.

This time limit was a subtle one. It could be used to shoot a music video or a complete short story. The pacing could be slow or tight, the visual language could be simple or rich. The key point was how to push one’s skills to the limit within such a short span, directly showing the filmmaker’s strength.

Because Si Qi was still a student—and a heavily burdened third-year high schooler at that—he couldn’t possibly travel to another province for filming. His choice of subject was limited to within the city, even within the school.

Given that, Si Qi thought he might as well shoot something the original owner was most familiar with and best at—

——Campus life.

When word spread that Si Qi was making a commemorative short film, the third-year students, who were about to say farewell to their classmates, were very supportive. When they heard that he wanted to film them, they didn’t hesitate at all and readily agreed.

The teachers were used to Si Qi’s “not focused on proper studies” ways. When he asked for permission, they scolded him with a smile and then agreed, saying it was fine as long as he didn’t disturb other students’ classes. At the end, as usual, they advised him to study hard. Last time, after all, he had dropped from sixth place in the grade to seventh. Si Qi just smiled and agreed.

The homeroom teacher from the neighboring class, however, was not pleased. He looked at Si Qi with disdain and said: “At a time like this, you’re still busy with these pointless things. Such a waste of time.”

Then he turned to Teacher Yang, who was covering for Si Qi, and said in a sarcastic tone: “This kid was so talented academically, but since coming to your class, he’s been on his phone and sleeping all day. The influence on other students must be terrible! Only you would be so lax, not caring at all, ha.”

Si Qi: “…”

Teacher Yang was calm and unhurried as he glanced at his colleague. He knew this man was still bitter about how he had “taken” the special-grade teacher spot back then, and had been looking for chances to jab at him ever since. Leisurely, he said: “Even if Si Qi sleeps all day, he can still easily make the top ten in the grade. Not like some students, who stay up studying all night, only to faint during the exam from exhaustion and end up at the bottom. Truly not worth it.”

The other teacher’s face turned green.

Wasn’t that exactly what had happened to his own class monitor, who had fainted in the exam due to his harsh discipline?

Because of that, his class’s total score was 4.8 points lower than Si Qi’s class in the last monthly exam, which made him furious. His performance evaluation even ended up worse than Teacher Yang’s.

Si Qi laughed so hard he nearly burst out. Before the other teacher could explode at him, he slipped away at Teacher Yang’s warning glance.

With his homeroom teacher backing him up, Si Qi carried his beloved camera and ran all around campus, filming with endless enthusiasm.

Writing the script, thinking about camera angles, locking down the final theme, finding suitable music… These were all things that looked simple when watched, but were completely different when done personally. Only by doing it himself did he realize just how complex this long-time hobby really was.

Before, watching a movie just meant sitting still and clicking play, maybe even casually forming his own opinions on its quality.

But actually shooting one showed him that every shot had to be carefully considered and polished. From script, to angle, to lighting, to underlying meaning—everything had to be balanced and thought through.

The workload was incomparable to simply watching.

Realizing this, Si Qi didn’t feel the slightest headache—instead, he was endlessly excited!

This was way too fun!

The exact same scene, filmed from a different angle, could look more natural and comfortable.

Even transitions between interior and exterior shots felt completely different depending on whether you moved step by step from wide to close, or just switched directly.

For someone who once only watched movies casually for fun, the satisfaction of filming one himself was something watching could never compare to. He was so excited he wanted to dive headfirst into the world of filmmaking, unwilling even to waste time sleeping!

After joyfully working like this for over half a month, his classmates saw him finally stop running around with the camera every day and asked curiously: “Si Qi, why aren’t you filming anymore?”

Si Qi’s face lit up, and his eyes alone showed how happy he had been.

“The material’s already filmed. Next step is editing, music, and patching up any gaps.”

His classmates: “When will it be ready? I want to see.”

“There should be shots of me in it, right? Don’t you dare cut them all out.”

“Can you send me a copy once it’s done? I want to keep it.”

Si Qi readily agreed: “I’ll probably finish in about a month. But since I’m entering it into a competition, I can’t share it yet. Once the contest is over, I’ll send it to you all!”

“Wow, you’re even entering a competition!”

“What competition? A city one? That’s awesome!”

Si Qi: “Not a city one, you guys probably haven’t heard of it.”

He pulled out his phone and opened the registration page.

His classmates crowded over and saw everything was in English. They blinked: “Oh, it’s international.”

“What’s that E-something? Never heard of it.”

Si Qi put away his phone: “If you don’t follow this stuff, you wouldn’t know. My brother was the one who signed me up.”

“Oh.” Not really understanding how prestigious the competition was, his classmates just nodded casually, then cheerfully added: “Anyway, when it’s done, make sure you share it in the group.”

“Sure, no problem.” Si Qi said easily: “I’ll make sure you all look amazing on film.”

—

While Si Qi was busy shooting, Si Lin wasn’t idle either.

According to Xiu Xiu, he had been keeping track of the Child Protection Center’s progress, asking about their work and actively providing all sorts of information.

Yesterday afternoon, the staff at the protection center finally finished compiling everything. With the inheritance list left behind after the brothers’ parents’ death, the property transfer documents putting the house under Si Qi’s name, and extensive evidence of years of abuse, they marched straight into the detention center.

The two adults, who were deeply resentful of being “framed” by the brothers, had spent the past two weeks dreaming of teaching them a lesson. They wanted nothing more than to lock them at home and beat them up once they were released, thinking these ungrateful brats deserved to be beaten to death.

Suddenly facing this large group storming into the detention center, the two angrily ranted about laws and regulations, trembling with rage. They shouted that these people had nothing better to do than help those two heartless beasts bite the hand that fed them. They claimed that ordinary discipline of younger relatives was being slandered as abuse—utterly laughable.

They roared furiously, slamming the table and cursing the protection center staff, until the workers—long used to such adults—coldly released multiple video clips of beatings, along with audio testimony from neighbors and shopkeepers. They sternly explained that as minors, Si Qi and Si Lin were under strict legal protection, and any excessive physical harm constituted a violation of the law. If the two still refused to repent or return the inheritance, then the matter would only be settled through legal prosecution.

The adults, already jailed through legal means, turned livid. They cursed nonstop, unwilling to even look at the printed expense records showing how they had squandered the siblings’ inheritance. They only grew more hateful, muttering that they should have strangled the two brats back then and buried them with their deceased parents.

Hearing the staff on the other side furious and unable to contain their emotions any longer, some of them were so heartbroken for the two brothers that they shed tears. Red-eyed, they questioned the couple: “If your own children went through something like this, how would you feel?”

“At the time the older one was only five years old, and you made him take his newborn baby brother alone to the hospital and the baby store. You’ve raised children yourself—you must know how difficult it is to care for one so small, don’t you?!”

But the heartfelt words only made the couple roll their eyes over and over. With a cold sneer they said: “So now we, the ones who raised them, have become the sinners, while you’re the virtuous ones.”

The staff were choked with anger, unable to believe there could be such selfish and cold-blooded people in the world.

The meeting ended unhappily. Before leaving, the protection center staff said that next time they would bring the inheritance return papers for them to sign. The couple just rolled their eyes, not even bothering to respond.

Because of gender, the couple were usually kept separately in male and female detention areas. If not for this incident, they might not even have seen each other.

When they did meet, they immediately voiced their dissatisfaction: complaining about the store being shut down and losing more than sixty thousand yuan a year in rent; about leaving their daughter with the woman’s sister and not knowing how she was doing; and about how the two brothers were doomed, swearing they’d make them pay once they got out.

After only a few words, they were taken away by guards again, each dragged back angrily to their cells where they kept cursing the brothers’ names.

The next day, the woman finally got permission to make a phone call. She calculated when her daughter would be out of school and eagerly dialed her sister’s phone, desperate to speak with her child.

On the other end, her sister’s tone was cold, making the woman deeply uncomfortable. She felt that her sister must look down on her, and resented her cold-bloodedness, thinking she didn’t care for her at all.

But since her daughter was living there, she swallowed her displeasure, forced a smile, and said many nice words before asking her to hand the phone to the girl.

The little girl, hearing it was her mother, burst into tears the moment she picked up the phone. She ran to the small room that had been converted into a bedroom, sobbing.

“Mom…”

Hearing that pitiful voice, the woman’s tears flowed too: “Hey, my good girl, have you been obedient over there?”

“I’ve been good…” the girl choked between sobs. “Mom, when are you coming back? Auntie treats me so badly, I don’t want to live here.”

The woman’s brow furrowed deeply. “What? What has your aunt done to you?!”

The girl said: “She talks bad about you to others, saying you did bad things and got arrested, and that’s why she had to take care of me. Lots of people call me the child of a criminal and laugh at me. Auntie also says I’m disobedient and always against her, but I’m not! She favors my cousin—gives him all the good food and never me. When I want snacks she won’t let me! She doesn’t like me at all…”

The woman’s breathing turned harsh, her body trembling. “That woman… that woman dares to treat you like this!!”

“I live in such a tiny, tiny place now, with no window, it’s so dirty! Auntie won’t comb my hair, won’t help me with clothes, and always scolds me for being slow…”

The little girl had barely begun her complaints when suddenly the door slammed open. Her aunt, face dark with rage, stormed in, snatched the phone, and happened to hear her sister on the line calling her a bitch. Her heart turned ice cold, and she roared: “I’m a bitch? I’ve been kindly raising your child without taking a single cent from you, without asking for anything in return, and this is how you talk about me?!”

“Your daughter accuses me of slandering you? You did break the law and get arrested—how is that slander?! And those words weren’t even mine! My mother-in-law was unhappy that I brought your daughter here, so she spread it everywhere to humiliate me along with you. I couldn’t stop her even if I wanted to, and now it’s pinned on me!”

“And saying I favor my son? The day I brought your daughter here, I bought crabs and shrimp just because she liked them. She refused to eat them, said my cooking wasn’t as good as yours. Then seeing my son eat more, she threw a tantrum at the table, crying that everything went to him. These are groceries I bought, cooked in my house—does that mean my son isn’t allowed to eat them?? She says I won’t buy her snacks—where didn’t I? I just didn’t buy her that box of chocolate costing over a hundred yuan, and she still holds it against me! I’ve bought her clothes and shoes worth hundreds, why doesn’t she tell you that?!”

The aunt grew more and more enraged, roaring: “She’s a girl, how could I let her share a room with my son? I gave her the guest room to sleep in, but she claims I stuck her in a stinky place on purpose. What more do you want from me? Should I hand her my own bedroom to be considered good enough?! I’m telling you, this is all I have. I can’t give her a princess room!! And she wants me to dress her and do her hair—my son has to go to kindergarten every day, I already struggle to take care of him. You want me to ignore my five-year-old and pamper your ten-year-old instead? She’s old enough to do it herself!!”

“She even secretly beat my son yesterday! His leg is covered in bruises! Who else could have done it?! And then she goes crying to others saying I abuse her, that I treat her badly. What kind of daughter did you raise, huh? Did you teach her to be like this?! She’s more scheming than an adult!!”

“And you dare call me a bitch—do you know how much I’ve suffered at home for your daughter’s sake? My in-laws have been giving me dirty looks every day. I’ve been getting it from both sides!!”

“If you think I’m so bad, then have someone come take away your precious girl right now! I have no obligation to raise her! Unless you pay me like your brother and sister-in-law did—tens of thousands of yuan, plus a house!!”

She was practically hysterical, shrieking like a madwoman, frightening the little girl into silence.

The girl’s mother’s ears rang painfully from the shouting. She stammered, not knowing what to say. Her sister, wiping her tears, shouted into the phone: “Don’t think everyone is as disgusting as you! Just because you treated those two kids that way, you assume I’d treat your daughter the same? I’m not as twisted as you!”

“But if you keep slandering me, calling me a bitch behind my back, I won’t hold back! However you treated those two boys, that’s exactly how I’ll treat your daughter! You’re stuck in prison now, just like their parents, watching helplessly while your child suffers, unable to do anything!”

“You brought this on yourself!”

With that, she slammed the phone down, glaring at the little girl trembling and trying to look pitiful. Her fingers shook with rage.

Her voice hoarse and her chest tight, she said: “You say I treat you badly? Fine! I won’t care about you anymore! Let’s see who else in this family cares for you besides me!”

“I’ll tell your uncle and grandparents that you hit my son. See if they treat you kindly after that!”

With red eyes, she stormed out. At the door, she met her dark-faced husband and immediately flung herself into his arms, weeping in grievance.

Only the little girl was left, fists clenched on the bed, tears dripping down her legs.

Meanwhile, at the phone in prison, the mother stood dazed, listening to the dial tone. The more she thought, the more panicked she became.

She resented her sister for being so petty—just one word, and she exploded like that, shouting without caring how much she, locked in prison, worried about her daughter. And then she hung up.

Afterward, no matter how many times she called back, it wouldn’t connect. With an ugly expression, she returned to her cell and lay on her bed, tossing and turning.

The more she thought, the more uneasy she became.

She feared her daughter might be beaten in a rage after the call—just like she and her husband had once beaten those two boys: slapping, kicking in the stomach, dragging them by the hair and smashing their heads against the wall.

Those small children had no strength, their crying and begging useless, only fueling the abuser’s fury until the two of them lay weak and motionless on the ground.

What if her daughter ate an extra piece of meat and got pinched and scolded? What if no one took her to school and she had to walk alone? What if she accidentally blocked the TV and was kicked until her knees bled?

Because of her sister’s words—“I’ll treat her as you treated those boys”—the woman couldn’t stop replaying her own past, replacing the two boys with her beloved daughter in those memories.

She remembered once, when the boys failed to watch her younger sister properly and the girl burned her fingers with hot water, she angrily poured boiling water onto the older brother, making him scream in agony on the floor. Now she imagined her daughter, living in someone else’s house, bullied over trivial things, and her heart ached as though it were being torn apart. She wept uncontrollably, filled with regret so deep it seemed to poison her.

Why had she added poppy powder to the hotpot base for extra profit? Why had she treated those obedient boys so cruelly?

The boys had always been compliant, and yet she always found reasons to beat and scold them. Her daughter’s personality was far less submissive—how could she expect kindness in another’s home? Her situation would only be harsher.

By the time she and her husband got out a year later, her daughter might already be broken, unable even to smile.

Her poor daughter…

The woman lay face down on her bed, sobbing her heart out.

Since entering prison she had only blamed fate, never reflecting. But for the first time, she realized how excessive she had been—so excessive that the brothers chose to send their last remaining relatives to prison, completely cutting ties.

And all of this, at the root, was because they had broken the brothers’ hearts.

But now, regret was far too late.