Back to 17, My Brother is the Cult Leader

In the third week of the new semester, the "BJ Original Culture and Art Studio" was officially launched on the campus of the Central Academy of Drama.

Although it's called a studio, it's actually just two empty rooms that the department vacated on the first floor of the office building.

It's a small space of about 30 square meters, with three tables, three chairs, a sofa set, and two sets of metal cabinets.

The walls were freshly painted, and the sign was made by someone hired by the school.

The school provided both the telephone and the computer.

The business license and permits are displayed on the wall.

Department Head Professor Shen passed by, glanced at it, and said, "It looks alright."

Fang Yuan said, "Thank you for the school's thoughtfulness."

Fang Yuan then bought two thermos flasks, a bag of tea leaves, and several teacups.

The studio is now open for business.

Fang Yuan posted the class schedule on the wall and marked out the free time each week.

Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are free of classes and are specifically used for business discussions.

On Tuesday afternoon, Fang Yuan was flipping through a copy of "A Draft History of Dramatic Theory" in his studio when there was a knock at the door.

"Please come in."

Two people came in first.

Ahead of me was a man in his forties, short and stout, with a round face and a smiling face, carrying a leather bag.

A young woman wearing glasses followed behind, carrying a stack of documents.

"Fang Yuan? Hello, hello, I'm Zhou Mingyuan from Shanghai Film Studio."

The short, stout man extended his hand and gripped it firmly.

Fang Yuan shook hands with him, and then with the girl.

The girl said her surname was Liu and that she was Zhou Mingyuan's assistant.

"This place is nice," Zhou Mingyuan said, looking around. "Your school is very supportive of you."

"The department vacated it; it used to be a storage room."

Zhou Mingyuan glanced at the whiteboard on the wall, then at the bag of tea on the table, and chuckled, "Is this all you're going to serve us?"

Fang Yuan said, "Even the top leaders from the Shanghai Film Studio receive this treatment. Shall I pour you a glass of water?"

Zhou Mingyuan smiled and sat down in the chair.

Xiao Liu pulled a stack of papers out of the file bag and placed them on the table.

Just as Fang Yuan was about to pour water for Zhou Mingyuan, there was another knock at the door.

"Please come in."

A tall, thin man, around fifty years old, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a dark gray jacket, entered, followed by a young man carrying a briefcase.

"Hello Fang Yuan, I'm Lin Guodong from BJ New World Film Studio."

Fang Yuan stood up and shook hands with him.

Zhou Mingyuan also stood up, and the two nodded to each other without saying much.

Fang Yuan thought to himself, "There are quite a few people here today."

He also poured Lin Guodong a glass of water.

As usual, the tea leaves floated on the surface of the water.

Before I could even sit down, there was another knock at the door.

"Please come in."

The woman who came in this time was in her early thirties, with short hair, wearing a black suit, and looking capable. She came alone.

"Fang Yuan? I'm from Tianhong Film and Television. My surname is Sun, Sun Jing."

Fang Yuan shook hands with her.

Sun Jing glanced at the two groups of people already seated in the room and smiled, "Looks like I'm not late."

Fang Yuan said, "Perfect, everyone sit down."

The room was full.

Fang Yuan looked at the three people.

Shanghai Film Studio, a large state-owned factory.

Xintiandi has been gaining momentum in recent years.

Tianhong Film & Television is a privately owned company that has only recently started.

Three companies want the same novel.

Fang Yuan found this situation quite interesting.

"Fang Yuan," Zhou Mingyuan spoke first, pulling a document from his briefcase.

"Our Shanghai Film Studio values ​​your film 'Eighteen-Year-Old Sky' very much."

"We'll adapt it into a 20-episode TV series. The copyright fee is 50,000."

After listening to this, Lin Guodong adjusted his glasses and said slowly:

"Fifty thousand? Fang Yuan, Xintiandi will give you sixty thousand. In addition, we can hire a professional screenwriter to help you revise it, and you'll be listed as the lead screenwriter."

Sun Jing didn't produce any documents, saying, "Tianhong will give 65,000. You decide on the script; we'll only provide the money."

Fang Yuan leaned against the corner of the table, watching the three of them.

"Teachers," Fang Yuan said, "let's put the money aside for now. I have an idea I'd like to share with you first."

All three of them were looking at him.

Fang Yuan said, "I don't want to just sell the copyright."

"So what do you want to do?" Lin Guodong asked.

"I'd like to ask if it's possible to participate in the investment?"

The room was silent for two seconds.

Zhou Mingyuan blinked.

Lin Guodong took off his glasses and wiped them.

Sun Jing smiled.

"What can a student like you invest with?" Lin Guodong put on his glasses and looked at Fang Yuan.

"I'll invest all the royalties and adaptation fees. I'll find other ways to cover the shortfall."

"How much should we bet?" Sun Jing asked.

"Not much. But I don't want controlling stake, I just want participation rights."

I'll write the script myself, which will save me the cost of a screenwriter.

Regarding the selection of actors and directors, I hope to have the right to make suggestions, not to veto any decisions, but simply to offer recommendations.

Lin Guodong laughed after hearing this.

"Fang Yuan, you're not doing a stand-up comedy routine, are you?" Lin Guodong leaned forward slightly.

"You're a freshman in college, and you're going to invest, write your own script, and pick actors and directors?"

Do you know how much a TV series costs? A 20-episode series would cost at least two to three million yuan.

"You threw in tens of thousands of yuan in royalties, and it's not even enough for a boxed lunch."

Fang Yuan wasn't angry.

"Teacher Lin, I know I don't have much money. But what I want is not controlling stake, but participation."

Lin Guodong shook his head:

"Fang Yuan, let me be frank with you. The film and television industry has its own rules."

For newcomers, selling copyrights and making money is the simplest and most cost-effective path.

If you make it this complicated, Xintiandi won't sign with you.

"No one would agree to your conditions."

Sun Jing remained silent, her smile fading as she pondered.

Zhou Mingyuan picked up the cup, took a sip of water, and put it down.

"Fang Yuan," Zhou Mingyuan said, "I understand your thoughts."

Investing, writing scripts, and nominating actors are all things that can be discussed.

But you're new, and the company needs to consider the risks.

He paused.

"Okay, I'll take your proposal back and report it to the factory. The management will make the decision."

Fang Yuan nodded: "Okay."

Lin Guodong stood up, picked up his bag, and said:

"Fang Yuan, I advise you to be more realistic. With your conditions, let alone New World, no company would accept them."

If you change your mind, give me a call. The 60,000 yuan is available anytime.

After saying that, he left with the young man.

Zhou Mingyuan and Sun Jing were left in the room.

Sun Jing didn't leave. She looked at Fang Yuan and said, "I've also read your novel, 'Flying Colors.' It's well-written."

"Thanks."

"Are you serious about what you just said—participating in investment, writing the script yourself, and nominating actors?"

"Seriously."

Sun Jing thought for a moment and said:

"Tianhong is a small company, so there aren't many rules and regulations."

I personally find your idea interesting. But it's not up to me to decide alone; I need to go back and discuss it with the boss.

She took a business card out of her card holder and handed it to Fang Yuan.

"This is my phone number. You wait for my message, and I'll wait for yours."

Fang Yuan took the business card, glanced at it, and put it in his pocket.

Sun Jing stood up, shook hands with Fang Yuan, and left.

Zhou Mingyuan also stood up and shook hands with Fang Yuan.

"Fang Yuan, your idea is quite bold. However, the film and television industry is not as simple as you think."

Fang Yuan smiled and said, "I know."

Zhou Mingyuan is gone.

Fang Yuan sat alone in his studio, looking at the three glasses of water on the table that he hadn't drunk much of.

The tea leaves sank to the bottom of the cup.

Sunlight streamed in through the window and fell onto the table.

Fang Yuan put several business cards into the drawer.

Maybe.

But what if someone agrees?