This director only directs blockbusters.

"Yes, but most importantly—" Yang Ning held up a finger, "before the audience even enters the theater, they already believe the movie is worth watching."

This belief didn't fall from the sky; it was built up little by little by Cameron and Fox over two years.

He picked up the document and turned to the second page.

"This is an analysis of the promotional strategy for The Lord of the Rings."

Peter Jackson started releasing behind-the-scenes footage, concept art, and actor training videos from the very first day the project was launched.

By the time the film was released, audiences had been following the project for three years. They weren't going to buy tickets; they were going to "test" it.

Han Shanping listened in silence.

"What we need to do now is to get the audience involved in 'making' this movie with us." Yang Ning pushed the documents back.

"Let them see how Huang Xiaoming crawls in the mud, how Fan Binbin practices until his knees bleed, and how Liu Yong builds models millimeter by millimeter."

When they walk into the movie theater, they're not going to see "a story," they're going to see "whether we actually succeeded."

The office was silent for a few seconds.

The air conditioner was humming.

"This is gambling," Han Shanping finally said.

"Movies are gambling, after all. Besides, we're already in the game, it's just a matter of raising the stakes," Yang Ning said. "But we can cheat."

"How do I get it?"

"Use the real thing." Yang Ning pulled out a Sony digital camera from his bag—a new model from 2002, shaped like a thick biscuit.

He turned on the computer, brought up the video feed, and turned the screen towards Han Shanping.

The screen is shaky; it's a training ground.

Huang Xiaoming crawled forward in the mud, his face buried in the mud, and when he looked up, only the whites of his eyes were visible.

Fan Binbin's knee was wrapped in gauze, but he was still practicing side kicks, and each kick caused a little red seepage through the gauze.

Zhou Xun hung in the middle of the climbing wall, his arms shaking like a leaf, but he wouldn't let go.

"These images don't lie." Yang Ning turned off the camera. "The audience can tell this is genuine dedication. They'll be curious—what exactly are these people trying to film that's worth going to such lengths for?"

Han Shanping stared at the empty camera screen, as if reliving those images.

"How much budget do you need?" he asked.

"The first phase, 300,000," Yang Ning said. "We'll hire two photographers to accompany the crew, one editor, and one media liaison. I'll personally negotiate with magazines, newspapers, and portal websites."

"Three hundred thousand?" Han Shanping laughed. "Do you know how much the promotional budget for 'Hero' was?"

"Forty million," Yang Ning replied quickly, "but we don't need that much. Because we have something they don't."

"What?"

"It's real." Yang Ning stared at him. "Zhang Yimou wouldn't dare to expose the entire crew to the public, but I do. Because I know that what we produce deserves these expectations."

Han Shanping stood up and walked to the window.

The person's back was wide, blocking most of the light.

"Yang Ning," he said with his back to him, "if the film flops, you'll be criticized more harshly than anyone else."

"I know."

"If an actor gets into a scandal or an accident occurs on set, you will suffer the consequences."

"I know."

"if--"

"Chairman Han," Yang Ning interrupted him.

Han Shanping turned around.

Yang Ning also stood up, and the two looked at each other across the desk.

"You're investing in this project because you believe I can produce something good." Yang Ning's voice was calm, but every word struck like a hammer blow.

"And please believe me, I know how to sell this great stuff. Film and publicity aren't your expertise, they're mine."

Yang Ning's words were spoken with resounding conviction.

The office was eerily quiet.

The air conditioning seems to have stopped working too.

Han Shanping stared at him for a long time.

Then he suddenly laughed and shook his head.

"You little brat..." He walked back to the table, picked up the document, flipped to the budget page, took out a pen, and quickly signed it.

"Three hundred thousand, I'll approve it for you for one month first." He pushed the documents over. "After one month, I want to see results—media exposure, discussion volume, industry attention—let the data speak for itself."

"Okay." Yang Ning took the document.

"And one more thing," Han Shanping looked at him, "You'll have to handle the actors yourself. If someone doesn't want to be filmed, you can't force them."

"clear."

"Go ahead," Han Shanping waved his hand. "I'm waiting to see how much of a stir your 'truth' can cause."

Yang Ning walked to the door, put his hand on the doorknob, and turned around.

"Chairman Han."

"Um?"

Thank you for your trust.

"Don't thank me." Han Shanping lit a cigarette. "If you mess this up, I'll be the first to replace you."

Yang Ning smiled, pushed open the door, and went out.

In the corridor, he leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.

My palms were sweaty.

Those last twenty minutes felt like walking on the edge of a cliff every second.

But he knew he had to go this way.

In 2002, film promotion was still in its early stages, relying on "spending money before the film's release."

What he needs to do is to plant the concept of "long-term preheating" in the industry two years in advance.

And now, the seeds have been sown.

---

On the way back to the base, Yang Ning kept making phone calls.

The first person I called was the editor-in-chief of the magazine "Film and Television Circle".

"Editor-in-Chief Wang, this is Yang Ning... yes, the China Film project."

We want to create a series of columns called "The Birth of the Apocalypse," one article per week, following the film crew throughout the entire process... We'll pay the highest possible fee, but we want the right to review submissions.

The second call was to Sina Entertainment Channel.

"Director Li, this is Yang Ning from China Film Group... Yes, I'd like to collaborate with you on a special page."

We provide exclusive behind-the-scenes footage every day, and you give us a featured spot on the homepage... Yes, until the film's release.

The third call was to the entertainment section of the Beijing Youth Daily.

They made phone calls one by one, negotiating terms one by one.

It was already dark when we arrived at the base.

The training field was still lit up.

Yang Ning walked in and saw Huang Xiaoming and Fan Binbin doing extra practice—not sparring, but Fan Binbin teaching Huang Xiaoming how to defend.

"Raise your arm, not to cover your face, but to protect your carotid artery." Fan Binbin's voice echoed in the empty training field. "Lin Xue always hits vital points, you have to anticipate her predictions."

Huang Xiaoming, covered in sweat, did as instructed.

Yang Ning stood in the shadows and watched for a while before blowing his whistle.

The two stopped and looked at him.

"Everyone, assemble," Yang Ning said. "I have something to announce."

Ten minutes later, the actors and key staff members gathered in the conference room.

Yang Ning stood in front of the whiteboard without saying a word.

"Starting tomorrow, the crew will have two photographers following the film, recording the training and preparation work every day." He glanced around, "These materials will be published in magazines, newspapers, and portal websites."

Someone frowned.

"Director Yang, doesn't this mean we have no privacy?" a supporting actor whispered.

"Yes, no privacy." Yang Ning looked at him. "But what you want isn't privacy, it's for the audience to remember who you are. Huang Xiaoming—"

Huang Xiaoming looked up.

"Do you want the audience to remember you for more than just acting in idol dramas?"

"……think."

"Fan Binbin".

Fan Binbin looked at him.