Entertainment: A whirlwind marriage with a fairy-like mother at the start!

The Gobi Desert in Northwest China.

A strong wind whipped up a sky full of yellow sand, which stung people's faces.

The Mulan film crew.

Liu Qianqian was wearing heavy armor weighing dozens of kilograms, and her face under the helmet was covered with specially made blood plasma and mud.

She held a long spear and sat astride a tall black horse.

Xu Anhua held a walkie-talkie.

"All departments, prepare!"

"Action!"

As the clapperboard fell, Liu Qianqian squeezed the horse's belly with her legs.

The black horse neighed, raised its front hooves high, and then charged out of the camp like an arrow released from a bow!

"kill!"

Liu Qianqian roared.

With a roar, Liu Qianqian gripped her spear tightly with both hands, and using the momentum of her charging warhorse, she thrust the spear tip out with a whooshing sound.

The movements were clean and efficient.

The intensive training he had received over the past few months at the Red Star Racecourse, combined with the martial arts foundation he had learned from Yang Nuo, was on full display at this moment.

Behind them, hundreds of extras followed closely, their shouts of battle deafening.

Xu Anhua sat in front of the monitor, his eyes fixed on the screen.

In the video, the girl who was once labeled as "delicate" now has a fierce, wolfish look in her eyes.

"Cut! Perfect!"

Xu Anhua stood up excitedly.

Liu Qianqian pulled on the reins and dismounted.

Her legs were still trembling, and she was breathing heavily.

The assistant quickly ran over to hand over some water.

Liu Qianqian waved her hand, took the bottled water and poured it directly on her face to wash away some of the sand.

Shu Chang, dressed in coarse cloth, ran over and handed over a clean towel.

"Sissi, you were so aggressive just now. I was scared just watching from the outside."

Liu Qianqian took the towel and wiped her face.

She rolled up her sleeve, revealing a large patch of skin on her forearm that had been chafed raw by the edge of the armor, leaving it bloody and mangled.

Shu Chang gasped.

"Sissi! You're hurt!"

Liu Qianqian casually lowered her sleeves.

"It's just a minor scratch, don't make a fuss. Just get some iodine to disinfect it."

......

Beijing, headquarters of Salted Fish Entertainment.

Yu Le leaned back in the boss's chair, looking at the WeChat groups on his phone.

Group name: [60th Anniversary Tribute Film Directors Group (King of Scrolls Competition)].

Ning Hao posted a photo.

At three in the morning, on a street in Beijing, Grandpa Ge, dressed in a taxi driver's uniform, was squatting on the curb eating a jianbing guozi (Chinese crepe).

Ning Hao: [Ge You's performance is amazing! One take!]

In less than a minute, Guan Hu appeared.

Guan Hu: [What's that compared to what I did? To recreate the electric flagpole from the founding ceremony of the People's Republic of China, I directly hired several level-eight fitters from Shougang Group to handcraft a 1:1 replica on-site!]

The accompanying image shows a huge metal gear assembly.

Zhang Yimou was not to be outdone.

Zhang Yimou: [The crew of "Encounter" booked the entire Chang'an Avenue today, with 3,000 extras.]

Feng Xiaogang also jumped out.

Feng Xiaogang: [My crew for the film "Leap" booked an entire old alleyway in Shanghai, even replacing the roof tiles with ones from the 1980s. We found dozens of broken antennas and painstakingly built an antenna array!]

Chen Kaige followed closely behind.

Chen Kaige: [The crew of "Daytime Meteor" directly replicated the Shenzhou spacecraft's return capsule one-to-one.]

The group chat went silent instantly.

Yu Le taps on the keyboard.

Yu Le: [Thank you all for your hard work, directors. Is the budget sufficient?]

Zhang Yimou: [That's enough. Mr. Yu is very agreeable.]

Yu Le put down her phone.

With these big shots all in control, he, as the executive producer, doesn't need to worry about anything.

However, he was happy to see this "roll" happen.

........

It's early November.

The US presidential election has entered its final week of sprint.

The entire North American continent was engulfed in fervor.

Election news was broadcast on television almost around the clock.

The streets and alleys were filled with enthusiastic supporters holding up signs.

Chicago.

Grant Park.

The Black candidate's final national speech was held here.

Hundreds of thousands of people gathered in the park.

A sea of ​​people, a dense, dark mass.

He stood on the podium.

He was impeccably dressed in a suit and had sharp eyes.

He raised his right hand and clenched his fist.

"Change has arrived in America!"

His impassioned voice resonated throughout the square.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Cheers rose and fell in waves.

Countless people waved flags and chanted his name.

In a suite at a high-end hotel in downtown Chicago.

Old Mike sat in front of the television.

He stared intently at the live stream on the screen.

My palms were sweaty.

It seeped outwards along the lines of the palm.

He grabbed a tissue from the table and wiped his face haphazardly.

He has barely slept these past few days.

A political donation of fifty million US dollars—this is the craziest thing he has ever done in his life.

The phone on the table suddenly vibrated.

Old Mike was startled, his hand trembled, and he almost dropped his phone.

He picked up his phone and glanced at the caller ID.

Campaign manager.

Old Mike took a deep breath and pressed the answer button.

"Mr. Davis."

The campaign manager's hoarse yet ecstatic voice came from the other end of the phone.

"The latest polls are in, and we're leading in all three key swing states!"

"It's safe!"

Old Mike suddenly stood up.

He didn't feel any pain when his knee hit the coffee table.

Are you sure?

"Absolutely certain! Mr. Davis, thank you for your generous support; you are our most valued friend!"

The phone hangs up.

Old Mike walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Watching the dazzling fireworks rise over Grant Park in the distance.

He exhaled a long breath.

The landscape of Hollywood is about to change.

.......

Los Angeles, Beverly Hills.

At Richard's private villa.

The atmosphere was extremely oppressive.

Richard from Universal Pictures, Michael from Disney Studios, and William from Paramount Pictures.

The three Hollywood moguls were now looking ashen-faced.

The television screens in front of them were also showing footage of the Chicago festivities.

William slammed his cigar into the ashtray.

"Damn it! That damn black guy is actually going to win!"

Michael tugged at his tie, looking quite agitated.

"We had bet everything on the Republicans."

"Now that he's in power, will we be in trouble?"

Richard scoffed.

"What's the panic?"

"Even if he becomes president, we'll still be the ones who call the shots in Hollywood."

"He's just taken office and has a lot of messes to clean up; he doesn't have time to concern himself with our film industry."

William nodded.

"That's right, the theaters still listen to us."

"We absolutely cannot give Inception, which is invested in by China Capital, any screenings!"

"I'll make sure they get nothing in North America!"