My teacher is Bruce Lee, who dominated Hollywood.

Chapter 164 Two million a year? That's terrible!

"Damn it, Michael! You're using those Wall Street vampire tricks to drain us dry!"

"Go to hell, Martin! If it weren't for Hans, you two guys who can't even read a tax return would have been stripped bare by those studio bastards sooner or later!"

"Paul, say something! Don't just sit there like a block of wood, this is what you wrote!"

The neon lights on Sunset Boulevard had just come on when Qin Han returned to Sunset Tower.

Pushing open the office door, thankfully, the expected mess of scattered documents and chaos did not materialize, and the roof was still intact overhead.

What greeted us was the hoarse sound of several people arguing.

Martin waved his hands wildly in the air like a conductor, while Paul huddled in the corner of the sofa like a wild beast guarding its prey, clutching his manuscript.

Across from them, Michael, his shirt sleeves rolled up high, stood facing the hot-tempered Italian director, his coffee table covered with draft contracts and a calculator, drawing lines on paper with a red and blue pencil.

Upon hearing the door open, three pairs of eyes turned to Qin Han, who was standing in the doorway.

He casually hung his suit jacket on the coat rack by the door, then strode confidently into the "battlefield," opening the window to let the evening breeze dispel the stale air in the room.

"It seems you all get along very well."

Walking to the boss's chair at the head of the table and sitting down, Qin Han's gaze swept over the three of them: "At least, no one used violence while I was away."

Michael tossed the red and blue pencils in his hand onto the table, rubbed his aching temples, and pulled out a newly organized memo from the pile of documents.

"Boss, if you had come back half an hour later, I might have really lost my temper and smashed the ashtray over Mr. Scorsese's head."

"However, the good news is that I have reached an agreement with the two of them regarding the filming schedule of 'Taxi Driver,' the appointment and dismissal of crew members, and the ownership of editing rights."

At this point, Michael glanced at Martin and emphasized, "Han's Pictures promises to give directors and screenwriters absolute creative freedom. In this project, no outsider will interfere with your shots."

Martin Scorsese scoffed, lowering his legs from the coffee table. "Creative freedom is a given. Michael's an excellent negotiator, but the salary he offered was like throwing money at a beggar!"

"The only thing we're stuck on right now is the profit-sharing arrangement." Michael ignored Martin's complaints and pushed the memo in front of Qin Han: "Now, it's up to you to make the final decision."

Qin Han glanced at the memo and found that the general plan was not much different from the original Han family model. So he placed it directly on the coffee table and said to the two men, "Martin, Paul, Hollywood is a huge machine with its own rules that have been running for decades."

"Now, I'm giving you two options; you can choose for yourselves."

Martin finally stopped nagging; he seemed instinctively more willing to believe this amazing producer.

"The first option, following Hans Films' standard operating procedure, is for me to purchase the script rights to 'Taxi Driver' at a fair price."

"Then, I'll pack this script, your directing contract, and Paul's screenwriting contract together, and knock on the door of a studio to get them to fully fund and distribute it."

"If you choose this path, you'll immediately receive a substantial upfront fee. Mai might even help you secure a top-tier salary for a second-tier Hollywood director and screenwriter. You could even include some symbolic box office revenue sharing percentages in the contract."

"I think it should be no less than two hundred thousand US dollars."

"You get paid to do something, there's no risk involved. Even if the movie flops at the box office, the money will stay safely in your bank account."

Paul Schrader's fingers, which were holding the manuscript, trembled slightly.

For a homeless man who was sleeping in a car full of garbage just yesterday, the upfront cost of several hundred thousand dollars is undoubtedly a huge temptation.

But he didn't speak, and continued to wait for Qin Han to continue.

"But—" Qin Han emphasized, "In this plan, if the movie becomes a box office hit and earns tens of millions or even hundreds of millions in revenue..."

"All you'll get is that pitiful amount in the contract."

"Don't count on the promised net profit sharing from the big studios. Believe me, Hollywood accountants have a hundred ways to make a blockbuster film appear to be a loss on paper."

Martin Scorsese nodded unconsciously.

Having worked his way up in New York's underground film industry, he knew all too well how those suited capitalists used complex financial statements to bleed creators dry.

"So, what about the second option?"

"The second approach is like how we treated 'American Graffiti' and George Lucas."

"Han's Films invested its own money to buy out the copyright, and then paid for all the production costs out of its own pocket."

"In this way, Han's Films can keep the biggest profits firmly in its own hands. Then, we can redistribute the profits with you within this internal system."

Qin Han paced slowly in his office, clearly explaining the advantages of the second option: "If we choose this path, as the production company, Han's will bear the financial risk, and your director's and screenwriter's fees will be reduced to the minimum."

"However, once the film becomes a huge hit, you will receive genuine box office revenue sharing, without any financial fraud. Your total profits will be several times, even ten times, that of the first option!"

"Either take a generous upfront salary and be a risk-free employee; or tighten your belt and gamble on a future that will change your destiny."

"The choice is in your hands."

For most creators in Hollywood, the first option is the industry default.

But the two people sitting on the sofa don't have the kind of docile, law-abiding blood flowing through their veins.

Sure enough, without exchanging a single glance, the two jumped up almost simultaneously: "To hell with the minimum wage! Qin, anything I, Martin Scorsese, make will never be some kind of garbage that nobody cares about!"

"I choose the second option! I want to see my name linked to those real box office revenue shares!"

Paul Schrader slowly stood up from the sofa, a flame of "dignity" burning in his deep-set eyes.

"Travis's story is priceless." His voice was a little hoarse, but firm and resolute: "I'm willing to bet on it."

The two naturally neurotic gamblers chose the latter without hesitation.

"A very wise decision. Welcome to Hans Pictures."

Qin Han smiled and shook hands with the two men respectively, then turned to Michael: "Bring out the second contract and re-evaluate the distribution ratio. Tonight, we're all comrades on the same front."

While Martin and Paul were preoccupied with the new contract, Michael Ovitz quietly approached Qin Han.

His tone betrayed his anxiety: "Boss—I just mentally worked out a preliminary budget model for 'Taxi Driver'."

"This is a modern city-themed film. Although it doesn't require building any grand ancient sets, it does require a lot of location shooting on the streets of New York, including closing off streets, renting vehicles, a lot of nighttime lighting, and various expenses for the Screen Actors Guild."

"Even if we reduce Martin and Paul's initial salaries to the bare minimum, the pure production cost of this film will still be at least $1.5 million to $2 million!"

Michael looked up, his shrewd eyes now filled with worry.

"Boss, we have to face reality. We've got our share of the box office revenue from 'Fist of Fury,' plus our previous savings."

"After paying off the $800,000 bridge loan, Han's Film Company will have no more than $100,000 in available cash reserves!"

This is a huge sum of money in the eyes of ordinary people, but in Hollywood, this amount of money is not even enough for half a month's worth of meals for a film crew.

Michael's voice trailed off: "I know Martin still has to make 'Alice Isn't Here,' which will take at least a year, and we don't need to pay that huge production cost right away."

"But boss, it's two million US dollars! Even with a one-year grace period, can Hans really guarantee that we can generate that two million in cash flow within the next year using the resources we currently have?"

If the funding chain breaks down, not only will "Taxi Driver" be canceled, but the reputation that Hans Films has worked so hard to build will also collapse in Hollywood.

Seeing the executive's anxiety, Qin Han looked at his tense face and suddenly let out a light laugh.

"Michael, you are an extremely good manager, but your mindset has not yet fully shifted from that of a low-level mail clerk working for a big boss."

He patted Michael on the shoulder, his eyes radiating absolute confidence: "One year. A full three hundred and sixty-five days."

"If Hans Films, with its access to the best resources and most advanced business model in Hollywood, can't even earn a mere two million dollars—"

"Then there's no need for this company to continue operating."

"And you, my dear Michael, just buy a ticket and go back to William Morris Agency to continue serving coffee and making copies for those big shots."

These words struck Michael like a hammer blow to the heart.

Michael's strong confidence miraculously calmed his previously panicked heartbeat.

Yes, the man standing in front of me is a monster who dares to go all in on a worthless movie with hundreds of thousands of dollars.

When working with this kind of boss, the question is never what to do if you fail, but how to floor the gas pedal!

"I understand, boss. Get the funds account ready; I'll keep a close eye on every punctuation mark on the contract."

Michael took a deep breath, turned around, and walked back to the negotiating table.

Half an hour later, as the two signed the contract, Martin Scorsese and Paul Schrader officially joined Hansgrohe Films.

"Alright, work's done. To celebrate Hans Pictures signing two future masters, it's my treat tonight."

Qin Han grabbed his coat from the coat rack: "The Laurie's Steakhouse in Beverly Hills has ribeye steaks that will absolutely make your mouths water."

The four of them rode in Michael's car to this long-established restaurant, which is renowned in Hollywood.

The restaurant features a retro British décor, with waiters pushing silver food carts between tables. The aroma of sizzling roast beef, mixed with rosemary and red wine, fills the entire space.

After a few glasses of Bordeaux red wine, the atmosphere at the table finally relaxed completely.

Martin Scorsese chewed on the tender, juicy beef, his knife and fork clattering as he wielded them.

"Qin, I still feel like I'm dreaming. In just one day, I not only got the script I wanted most, but I also got absolute creative control."

He picked up his wine glass and looked at Qin Han across the table: "You went to Disneyland this afternoon, what did they say? Did they really not mention any outrageous additional conditions?"

Qin Han cut off a small piece of beef and put it in his mouth before slowly saying, "First of all, Martin, I'm going to set a hard and fast rule for you."

"From today onwards, you must never again harass Disney's legal department, and you must never harass Jodie Foster's mother."

"Hans Pictures has cleared all the minefields for you. The contract is all settled, and Judy will join the crew on time."

"The only focus now is to finish filming 'Alice Isn't Here' properly."

"Use this film to prove to Disney that you are a top director who can handle commercial films. Then, we will focus all our efforts on igniting Taxi Driver on the streets of New York."

11

Sensing the warning in Qin Han's tone, Martin put away his playful expression and nodded seriously.

"I understand. I'll show those conservative guys a flawless masterpiece."

He tilted his head back and downed the glass of red wine: "Besides helping me confirm the contract, those people didn't say anything else?"

"Of course not."

Qin Han picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth: "I also finalized a deal with Mr. Card Walker regarding an animated film. However, this involves a deep collaboration between Han's and Disney."

"You should be heading back to New York in a few days to start pre-production work on 'Alice,' right?"

"That's right, New York is my home turf. The California sun—it just doesn't suit me," Martin complained.

"Great, then we can take the same flight. I also want to fly to the East Coast to visit Broadway in New York."

""

Broadway?

Martin Scorsese seemed to have heard the biggest joke in the world, and almost spat out the beef he had just eaten.

"Qin, have you been in Los Angeles for too long? Has the sun damaged your brain?"

He tapped the ceramic plate with his fork, making no attempt to hide his disdain: "What's the point of going to a place like that? To watch a bunch of idiots in top hats and tuxedos hypocritically singing arias on stage?"

"They're a bunch of incredibly pretentious old fogies! All they know is how to find ways to curry favor with those fat, bloated Wall Street tycoons!"

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