This director only directs blockbusters.

"What about North America?" That's what Master Han is most concerned about.

"North America..." Yang Ning paused, "Because it was a preview screening, it was only shown in 12 art-house cinemas, and the opening day box office... was less than $10."

But word-of-mouth has spread within the Chinese-speaking community, and some theaters are considering expanding the screening run.

"Take it slow." Han Shanping nodded. "Everyone knows that the North American market is tough to penetrate, so there's no rush."

Halfway through the meeting, the secretary knocked on the door and whispered a few words in Han Shanping's ear.

Han Shanping smiled: "Perfect, let him in."

The door opened. A man in his fifties walked in, slightly overweight, balding, and wearing a wrinkled suit.

The meeting room fell silent.

Yang Ning recognized this person—Wang Hai, a well-known film critic in the industry who had often criticized commercial films in the past.

Last year, when Yang Ning held a press conference to criticize the fifth generation of directors, he wrote a long article criticizing Yang Ning, saying that Yang Ning "does not understand the essence of film".

Wang Hai walked in with a smile on his face, but it looked a little forced.

"Chairman Han, everyone," he said, bowing and scraping, "I apologize for disturbing you."

"What brings you here, Teacher Wang?" Han Shanping asked with a half-smile.

"Um... I'd like to congratulate Director Yang." Wang Hai looked at Yang Ning, "I've seen 'The Purple Cloud Era,' it's really well made."

I wrote a film review last night and published it in *Film Review*. It was all praise.

He took a magazine out of his briefcase, opened it, and handed it to Yang Ning with both hands.

Article title: "Looking at the genre breakthroughs in Chinese films through 'The Purple Cloud Era'".

Yang Ning glanced at it; the article was full of praise: "milestone," "epoch-making," "industrial standard," and so on.

He closed the magazine and placed it on the table.

"Thank you, Teacher Wang."

"Of course, of course." Wang Hai rubbed his hands together. "Director Yang is young and promising, and he has brought honor to Chinese cinema."

Please don't take my past words to heart.

I was also misled by appearances at the time, but we all had the same goal: the development of domestic films.

"I understand. Don't worry, I didn't take it to heart," Yang Ning said very modestly.

Of course, if Han Duoduo were here, she could expose his true colors from that day.

Wang Hai exchanged a few more polite words, then turned and left. After the door closed, the conference room was silent for a few seconds.

Then the bald man chuckled and said, "This old guy changes his tune faster than flipping through a book."

Han Shanping looked at Yang Ning: "What do you think?"

"That's normal," Yang Ning said. "If the box office is good, everything you say is right. If the box office is bad, even breathing is wrong. Isn't that how the world has always been? The winner takes all."

"You're quite insightful for your age," Han Shanping nodded. "But remember, these people can praise you today and trample on you tomorrow. Don't take it too seriously."

"Don't worry, I've never taken it seriously. I know my own limitations perfectly well."

Having lived two lives, he's over sixty years old combined. How could he still act like a young lad? Yang Ning is incredibly steady now.

The meeting continued. The follow-up publicity plan was finalized: appearing on CCTV's "Focus Interview" Spring Festival special program on the fifth day of the Lunar New Year, and holding a celebration banquet in Beijing on the seventh day of the Lunar New Year, inviting media and industry insiders.

After the meeting, Han Shanping kept Yang Ning behind alone.

"There's something I need to let you know." Han Shanping closed the office door. "Lu Chuan has sent a message through someone."

"What did you say?"

"It was all a misunderstanding before. I hope we can have a chance to sit down and talk." Han Shanping lit a cigarette. "Jia Zhangke also expressed through an intermediary that he wants to collaborate with you on a film."

Yang Ning laughed: "So fast?"

"That's how the market is," Han Shanping said, exhaling a puff of smoke. "If you win, whatever you say is right. They're not admitting they're wrong; they're admitting defeat."

"Then do you think I should see him?" Yang Ning looked at Han Shanping with a puzzled expression, wanting to hear his advice.

"We will meet, but not now. We'll meet after the box office surpasses 100 million, after the celebration banquet, after everyone knows you've won—that's when we'll see each other."

And when you ask them to come see you, of course, you still need to observe proper etiquette and social norms; after all, this society isn't just about fighting and killing.

Yang Ning nodded in agreement. After all, it's better to make enemies than enemies in this world; having more friends is always better than having more adversaries.

It was already dark when Yang Ning walked out of the China Film Building.

Xu Qin was still waiting for him at the door: "Jiang Zhiqiang called and said that there is a small celebration banquet in Hong Kong tonight, and asked if you can video call him."

"Let's do it," Yang Ning said. "After all, they are investors. As long as it benefits the box office, a little extra effort is fine."

"And..." Xu Qin hesitated for a moment, "Fan Binbin's agent just contacted me, saying that several big directors have approached her for new films, and the fee has tripled. She asked me to ask for your opinion."

"Why are you asking me? What does she think herself?"

"She said she'll listen to you."

Yang Ning thought about her relationship with him and said, "She can accept the role. But she needs to read the script beforehand. She shouldn't just accept any bad role. If she does accept it, she should bring the script to me so I can give her some feedback."

"it is good."

The two got into the car. Old Xu drove, and Xu Qin sat in the passenger seat.

As the car drove onto Chang'an Avenue, the streetlights were already on. Posters for "The Purple Cloud Era" could still be seen on the roadside, with the hand reaching out from the ruins standing out conspicuously in the night.

"Director Yang," Old Xu glanced at him in the rearview mirror, "what do you think our film will ultimately achieve?"

"you guess."

"I guess..." Old Xu thought for a moment, "Two hundred million?"

Yang Ning smiled but didn't say anything.

He looked out the window.

The night view of Beijing flowed past the car window. The lights, the skyscrapers, the people hurrying by.

How many of them have already seen the movie?

How many people will go to the movie theater tomorrow?

he does not know.

But he knew one thing:

From today onwards, no one will dare to say that Chinese audiences don't like watching domestic blockbusters.

No one dares to say anymore that young directors can't make good movies.

No one dared to say anymore that Yang Ning was just a reckless and ignorant fool.

That's enough.

The car stopped at a red light, and Yang Ning looked out the window.

A bus was parked next to my car, with the words "Purple Cloud Era" pasted on its side.

Several young people waiting for the bus pointed at the GG license plate and excitedly said something.

Yang Ning couldn't hear clearly, but he could see the expressions on their faces.

That anticipation, that excitement. Those expressions on the faces of the audience gave Yang Ning even more confidence in the film.

The light turned green. The car continued forward. Yang Ning leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

He knew that tomorrow's newspapers would feature new articles. Some would praise him, others would criticize him.

Some will analyze his success, others will predict his failure. But none of that matters anymore. What matters is—

The hand that reached out from the ruins was finally seen.