What Han Sanping said made Zhang Tiancheng suddenly realize something: over the past year, his mindset had subtly shifted.
After a moment of silence, Zhang Tiancheng gave a self-deprecating smile. "In another ten years, or maybe just a few, I probably won't be able to direct art-house films anymore."
Seeing Han Sanping's puzzled look, Zhang Tiancheng picked up his teacup and took a small sip. He set it back down and sighed, "What other directors need to make art-house films, I couldn't say. But for me, making an art-house film requires a certain breath of spirit. Unlike Zhang Yimou and the others, who can tackle romance, I've never believed in love, so I can't direct romantic art films. Nor am I like Chen Kaige, filled with philosophical thought; I'm incapable of making movies driven by dialectic introspection. My art films always carry a thread of critique, which means I need that breath to sustain me.
Chapter 227