This director only directs blockbusters.

"Do you want the audience to know that you're not just a pretty face, that you can train your knees until they're raw for a single scene?"

Fan Binbin bit her lip, her tongue pressed against her teeth, tasting a hint of rust—

She had accidentally bitten it open while enduring the pain. Newspaper headlines flashed before her eyes: "Red Carpet Stunner," "Exemplary Beauty," "Rising to Fame Through Looks."

Every word was like a needle, pricking her nerves that she thought had long since become numb.

"I want to." The word rolled out of his throat with a fierce edge. It wasn't a fit of pique, but a declaration.

"Zhou Xun".

Zhou Xun raised his hand: "Director Yang, I have a question."

"explain."

"If we're not feeling well, like we're tired or in a bad mood, will we still be photographed?"

"Take the picture," Yang Ning said. "But you can choose not to publish it. However, my suggestion is—publish it."

It lets the audience see that actors are also human, they get tired, and they break down.

Then the next day, he got up and continued. This authenticity is more powerful than a perfect persona.

The meeting room fell silent.

Only the electric fan was whirring overhead.

"Of course, this is voluntary," Yang Ning said. "Those who are unwilling can say so now."

I won't force anyone, but future promotional resources will be prioritized for those who are willing to cooperate.

No one spoke.

"Okay." Yang Ning nodded. "Then starting tomorrow, after training every day, take half an hour to shoot some behind-the-scenes footage."

Say what you want to say, show what you want to show. There's only one rule—don't pretend.

After the meeting, Fan Binbin stayed behind.

"Director Yang."

"Um?"

"What you're doing is very risky," she said in a low voice. "What if we don't perform well..."

"Then perform well." Yang Ning looked at her. "You're not just acting; you're becoming the characters themselves. Let the audience see the process, and they'll appreciate it."

Fan Binbin remained silent for a while.

"Do you really believe we can succeed?"

"I believe you," Yang Ning said. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have risked everything."

Fan Binbin looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"Then I believe it too."

She turned and left, her ponytail swinging behind her head.

Yang Ning walked to the window and looked at the dark training ground outside.

The propaganda machine will be launched tomorrow.

In an era before Weibo, short videos, and smartphones, he had to rely on the most primitive media—paper, the internet, and word of mouth—to gradually build up his popularity.

Slow, but solid.

Like laying a foundation, one hammer blow at a time.

He took out his notebook and wrote on the latest page:

"Promotional campaign launch, Day 1."

"Partner media: 3 (1 magazine, 1 portal, 1 newspaper)"

Budget: 300,000 RMB/month (Phase 1)

"Target: Accumulated exposure value before release is no less than 500 million."

After finishing writing, he closed the notebook.

His face was reflected in the windowpane.

Young, but with a depth in his eyes beyond his years.

In this game, he not only wants to win, but he wants to win beautifully.

Win and make everyone remember—

In the summer of 2002, a group of people did the craziest thing in the most foolish way.

And all of this is just the beginning.

…………

The email arrived at 6:00 AM.

Yang Ning had just finished making coffee when his computer beeped. He opened it and saw the backend data for Sina's special page.

It was online for 24 hours.

Unique visitors: 420,000.

Average dwell time: 8 minutes and 37 seconds.

Comments in the comment section: 2,300.

He stared at the screen for three seconds, then grabbed his phone and called Lao Xu.

"Have you seen the data?"

"Just saw it! Holy crap!" Old Xu yelled from the other end, "Yangzi, this is fucking amazing!"

"Have the filming crew focus on details today," Yang Ning said. "The sweat on the training field, Liu Yong's hands as he builds the model, close-ups of Fan Binbin's knee with blood seeping through the gauze—the more detailed the better."

"clear!"

After hanging up the phone, Yang Ning refreshed the page.

The comments section is scrolling in real time.

[User_Qingfengmingyue]: Huang Xiaoming's photo of crawling in the mud is amazing. Is this still the domineering CEO I know?

[Movie Lover 007]: Is the blood on Fan Binbin's knee real or fake? Is the crew really going all out?

[Apocalypse Theme Lover]: The concept art is amazing! This is the kind of science fiction China should be making!

[Passerby A]: Although I don't understand what they're filming, it feels like these people are really working hard.

Yang Ning took a sip of coffee and burned his tongue.

He continued scrolling down.

One comment received a lot of upvotes:

[Veteran film enthusiast Lao Zhang]: I'm retired from Beijing Film Studio; I spent my whole life in art direction. I saw the miniature city wall model built by Liu Yong—the details were exquisite, and the structure was solid. This production team is reliable.

There were over three hundred replies below, all asking the old man where exactly he could find reliable information.

Yang Ning took a screenshot and sent it to the crew's group chat.

The caption read: "Liu Yong, you're famous now."

Three seconds later, Liu Yong replied with a string of gibberish, probably because he hadn't been holding the phone properly.

---

At nine o'clock in the morning, the old man in the gatehouse came in carrying a stack of letters.

"Director Yang, your letter."

Yang Ning was taken aback: "So many?"

"This is only the first day." The old man placed the letters on the table, which piled up like a small mountain. "There are a few more packages outside; I had Xiao Wang move them there."

The letter was handwritten.

The kraft paper envelope had stamps pasted crookedly on it.

Yang Ning opened the first letter.

"Director Yang Ning, hello. I'm a high school student from Shijiazhuang. I was really impressed after watching your training videos. I used to think that making movies was just about celebrities posing, but I didn't realize it was so tough. I'll try to get into the Beijing Film Academy and want to become someone like you."

The handwriting is childish, but neat.

The second letter came from Chongqing.

"Director Yang, I worked in a factory for thirty years. The abandoned factory you filmed in is exactly the same as where I used to work. It really touched me, and I'm looking forward to the movie."

The third letter was written by an elderly woman from Shanghai.

"Director Yang, I'm seventy-eight years old this year and I don't usually watch movies. But my daughter showed me a video of your actors training, and I said these kids really have it tough. When the movie is released, I'll definitely have my daughter take me to see it."

Yang Ning opened the letters one by one.

There are students, workers, retired teachers, and housewives.

They used the simplest language to express their most direct feelings.

There are no fancy words, just "It's heartbreaking to see," "You guys are really working hard," and "Looking forward to the final product."

When Lao Xu pushed the door open, Yang Ning was still reading the letter.

"Holy crap, so many?" Old Xu leaned closer. "What's all that written?"

"Say we'll fight." Yang Ning handed him the letter.

Old Xu flipped through a few letters, his eyes getting a little red.

"Damn...it was worth it."

"This is just the beginning." Yang Ning stood up. "Where's the package?"

There were more than a dozen boxes piled up in the warehouse.

Some were sent by fans.

The entire class of Class 2, Grade 12 at a high school in Beijing sent a box of Red Bull and chocolate. The note read: "To replenish the actors' energy."

A nurse in Chengdu sent a large box of medical dressings and iodine solution. She added a note: "Ms. Fan Binbin, please take care to disinfect your knee wound."

A model enthusiast in Shanghai sent me a handmade model of the city wall. Although it was rough, you could tell that he put a lot of effort into it.

Some were sent by colleagues.

Several veteran directors from within China Film Group jointly sent a box of tea. The card read, "The younger generation is truly formidable."

A retired producer from the Shanghai Film Studio sent me a copy of his book, "Film Production Practice," with the inscription on the title page: "With a down-to-earth approach, you will surely achieve something."