Huayu Entertainment: Starting with Exorcising Evil from a Film Queen

Chapter 82 Going Home for the New Year (3K)

"Departures"? That's impossible. At this stage, they've probably already started post-production.

Making it into a film is plagiarism.

Then, the names of various art films flashed through Zhang Ze's mind.

He rejected them one by one.

Until a name popped up.

"Like Father, Like Son" is a low-budget Japanese film.

It tells the story of two families whose babies were switched at birth due to a hospital error.

The story is simple, there are no special effects, the characters are concentrated, the emotions are intense, the shooting requirements are not high, and most importantly, this movie can make money!

Putting aside everything else, at least in Japan, people buy into this kind of thing!

It is it.

Zhang Ze opened his eyes, and in the dimly lit studio, his eyes seemed to be sparkling with light.

He sat up straight and looked directly at Sun Ying, who was still planning Zhao Liying's future.

Sun Ying was taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor.

"What's wrong?"

"Sister Sun, please help me find a reliable producer. I want to make a movie."

Upon hearing Zhang Ze's words, Sun Ying's hand holding the pen froze in mid-air.

The pen tip hovered an inch above the paper, hesitant to fall.

She looked up, her gaze passing over the mountain of documents on the desk and landing on Zhang Ze's face.

Zhang Ze remained calm and relaxed, showing no sign of joking.

Sun Ying gently placed the pen on the table.

"Do you know what you're saying? Making movies is no child's play."

Zhang Ze picked up the water glass on the coffee table and took a sip of water.

"I know."

Sun Ying placed her hands on the table with a serious tone, "You served as the executive director for several months on 'Scarlet Heart.' Director Li did praise your talent, but there's a huge gap between being an executive director and independently directing a film."

"Putting everything else aside, you can't even assemble a full filming crew."

"To put together a team that handles photography, lighting, art direction, costumes, and props, you need an extremely deep network of connections. Most of the people you know now are in the television industry; you simply can't get into the film industry."

"Even if you manage to assemble the entire crew, what about film distribution?"

"Movies are made to sell tickets. Theater scheduling, distribution channels, and roadshow arrangements all require professional distribution companies."

"Although Tang Ren has the resources in this area, our studio is just an empty shell right now. What do we have to offer for distribution?"

"Not to mention, Tang Ren's main business is in TV dramas, and President Cai is not going to go crazy with you."

She slammed her hand on the table.

"The third and most important point is money."

"Even a low-budget film can cost millions from its inception to its release and still not make a splash. In today's film market, only big-name directors and actors can carry the box office. If you invest all the money you've earned this year, and the film flops, you'll have nothing left."

Sun Ying finished speaking in one breath, her chest rising and falling slightly.

As Zhang Ze's agent, she had to tell him the worst possible outcome.

She was Zhang Ze's business partner; the two were in the same boat.

Once Zhang Ze's studio goes under, she will lose her job.

Zhang Ze put down his water glass; he knew that every word Sun Ying said was true.

The studio is just starting out, and he doesn't have any relevant connections, so the film will most likely be funded by the studio itself.

Whether it's a TV series or a movie, they have always been high-risk, high-return investment projects.

A few years ago, many coal mine owners entered the entertainment industry, and quite a few of them were badly burned by the people in the entertainment industry.

Moreover, in this industry, crossing over into another field is the easiest way to fail.

When actors cross over to become directors, nine out of ten end up losing money but gaining publicity, and the remaining one is just lucky.

But he's different.

He has past life experiences, the technology provided by the panel, and the experience he gained in the "Scarlet Heart" production team.

As long as you work steadily and methodically, it's not difficult to make a low-budget art film.

As for the distribution—

He had no intention of following the traditional theatrical release route.

The domestic film market may look lively, but it is actually controlled by a few major players.

With the upcoming policy adjustments next year, his desire to secure screen time in theaters is nothing short of a pipe dream.

But he didn't plan to release it in China; his goal from the beginning was the overseas market.

"Sister Sun, I've considered all of what you've said. I don't plan to release it in domestic theaters."

Sun Ying was stunned for a moment.

"Not going to theaters? Then who are you making it for? To release on DVD?"

"Film festivals. Cannes, Berlin, Venice. Even the Tokyo or Busan International Film Festivals are fine."

Sun Ying frowned, seemingly processing the information.

"Are you trying to win an award to enhance your resume?"

"Winning awards is secondary; the key is copyright sales."

Zhang Ze explained, "As long as we get shortlisted, we can sell the overseas rights at the film festival's trading market. Europe,..."

In North America, Japan, and South Korea, the demand for art-house films remains stable.

"Moreover, my film has a low budget; it's a low-budget art film."

Zhang Ze held up five fingers.

"Five million is the maximum; if filming goes smoothly, it could be even less."

Sun Ying looked at Zhang Ze's confident expression.

She found that she couldn't see through this man.

From playing minor roles in Hengdian World Studios to becoming an overnight sensation, from an actor to an executive director on a film set, and now to establishing a foothold in the film industry.

Zhang Ze's every step has been unexpected.

"What about the movie script?" Sun Ying asked.

"It's in my head," Zhang Ze pointed to his temple. "I'll write it down during the Chinese New Year."

Sun Ying remained silent for a long time.

The only sound in the office was the faint humidifier spraying water mist.

She picked up the pen again and twirled it between her fingers.

Finally, she sighed deeply and said helplessly, "I'll keep an eye out for producers for you."

She finally relented.

"However, let me make this clear from the start: if we can't find a reliable investor, you'll have to pay for it yourself."

"If you ruin the studio, don't say I'm heartless when I leave."

"No problem," Zhang Ze readily agreed.

This was Zhang Ze's own decision, and even if he lost money, he couldn't ruin the other person's future.

With the deal settled, the atmosphere in the studio became much more relaxed.

Zhang Ze bent down and took out a stack of red envelopes that he had prepared in advance from his backpack.

These red envelopes were bulging and heavy in my hand.

He pulled out the thickest one and handed it to Sun Ying.

"Sister Sun, you've worked hard this year."

Sun Ying took it and felt its thickness.

This feel is worth at least 50,000.

She raised an eyebrow, didn't stand on ceremony with Zhang Ze, and stuffed it directly into her handbag.

"At least you have a conscience."

Zhang Ze smiled, then took out a few more red envelopes and handed them to the driver and two personal assistants who had been waiting outside the door.

The group was a little reserved when they came in.

When they received the red envelopes, they felt their thickness and their initial restraint instantly turned into undisguised joy.

"Thank you, Brother Ze!"

"Thank you, boss!"

The assistant who was following Zhang Ze around and helping him with daily life was so excited that her face turned red. This red envelope was worth several months' salary for her.

"Alright, take them all."

Zhang Ze waved his hand, "Everyone has suffered a lot following me and Liying around this year. Take this money back home to buy some New Year's goods and have a good holiday."

He glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Starting today, the studio is officially on holiday."

Work will resume on the eighth day after the Lunar New Year.

The cheers nearly lifted the roof off.

In 09, the Spring Festival holiday usually lasted until the fifth or sixth day of the Lunar New Year. Bosses who could extend it to the eighth day were definitely conscientious in the industry.

After seeing off the excited employees, Zhang Ze and Sun Ying exchanged a glance.

"You should head back soon too," Zhang Ze said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I need to get going too."

Sun Ying nodded and picked up her coat, putting it on.

"Be careful on the road. Send me the script when you're done."

"Know."

Zhang Ze pushed open the glass door, and a gust of biting cold wind rushed in.

Red lanterns were hung on the streets, and Andy Lau's "Gong Xi Fa Cai" was playing in the shops along the road.

"Congratulations on your fortune! Congratulations on your amazing success!"

"The best, please come over; the bad, please go away—"

Hearing familiar, festive songs instantly brings back the feeling of the Lunar New Year.

Zhang Ze took a deep breath, exhaling a puff of white mist, and then began his journey home.

The journey home was not easy.

In 2009, the high-speed rail network was not as developed as it is today.

Zhang Ze first flew to Nanchang, then transferred to a slow train, and finally took a two-hour rural bus ride.

The bus was filled with various smells.

It smells like orange peel, sunflower seeds, cheap tobacco, and the sweat from a long journey.

The train carriage was packed with people returning home.

The aisle was piled high with bags and suitcases, and some people were even carrying live chickens and ducks.

Zhang Ze, wearing a baseball cap and a mask, huddled in a corner by the window.

The view outside the window gradually changed from a bustling city to rolling hills.

The withered yellow grass shivered in the cold wind, and a thin layer of ice covered the paddy fields in the distance.

This is the most common winter scene in rural Jiangxi.

It lacked the snow-covered landscape of the north, but exuded a damp, chilling cold, carrying a magical attack that seemed to seep straight into one's bones.

As Zhang Ze watched the trees receding outside the window, his mind gradually calmed down.

The bus bumped along the potholed cement road.

Three hours later, the car stopped at the intersection of Qingyun Town.

Zhang Ze got off the bus with his bag on his back.

A cold wind blew, and he tightened his down jacket.

Without stopping, he walked up a winding stone staircase leading up the mountain.

The pine trees on both sides of the stone steps are still green, and occasionally a few crows are startled into flight.

After walking for about half an hour, a slightly dilapidated Taoist temple came into view.

The walls are made of blue bricks and black tiles, with some plaster peeling off, revealing the mud core underneath.

The red paint on the gate was also mottled and faded, only the couplet was still bright red, obviously it had been replaced not long ago.

"A gentle breeze sweeps away the dust, leaving no stains; the bright moon hangs in the sky, its heart empty."

Zhang Ze stood at the doorway and took a deep breath of the cold air, which was filled with the scent of pine resin.

He pushed open the heavy wooden door.

Squeak—

The sound of the old door hinges rattling echoed far and wide in the silent mountains.

In the courtyard, an old Taoist priest wearing a gray robe was sweeping the ground with a broom that had lost its bristles.

The old Taoist priest had gray hair, which he casually tied into a topknot, with a wooden hairpin inserted in it.

Hearing the noise, the old Taoist priest didn't even look up, continuing to sweep the ground with his broom.