Back to 17, My Brother is the Cult Leader

"That's a very bold idea of ​​yours!"

Teacher Shen flicked the ash from her cigarette.

After hearing Fang Yuan recount what had happened, he thought about it for a long time.

"Let me know next time we talk, and I'll represent the school."

"Okay, teacher."

"Have you considered what would happen if your ideas couldn't be reached through negotiations?"

"I've thought about it. If things don't work out, I can just film it myself when I'm able to."

"Okay, fine."

You should still focus your main attention on your studies.

"Okay, teacher."

People from Forbidden City Film Studio contacted Fang Yuan through their department.

The next day, Department Head Shen sent a message to Fang Yuan:

Mr. Zhang from Forbidden City Film Industry is here. He's in the conference room. Please come over there.

When Fang Yuan arrived, the meeting room door was open.

Teacher Shen was talking to a man in his fifties.

The man had gray hair, a square face, wore a dark gray jacket, and was holding a thermos.

He speaks slowly and deliberately, occasionally smiling, and when he smiles, the lines around his eyes are very deep.

Mr. Zhang. General Manager of Forbidden City Film Industry.

"Fang Yuan, come here, this is General Manager Zhang."

Fang Yuan walked over, and President Zhang stood up and shook hands with him.

The palm is thick and firm, and the grip is just right, neither too tight nor too loose.

"Have a seat," Zhang Heping said, pointing to the chair next to him.

Fang Yuan sat down.

Mr. Zhang's assistant was sitting against the wall with a notebook open in front of him, the pen cap still on.

Teacher Shen unscrewed his thermos, took a sip of water, and didn't say anything, clearly indicating that he wasn't the main character today.

Zhang Heping sized up Fang Yuan and got straight to the point:

"Fang Yuan, I saw your novel 'Lost in Thailand' in Beijing Literature."

During the Spring Festival travel rush, both bosses and workers endure a long and arduous journey home.

This is a good topic; ordinary people can understand it.

Fang Yuan said, "Thank you, Mr. Zhang."

"The Forbidden City wants to bring this to the big screen."

Zhang Heping said, "The adaptation fee is 80,000 yuan. What do you think?"

Eighty thousand. That number wasn't low for that era.

Fang Yuan knew that for a typical new literary talent adapting a film, a price of thirty to forty thousand yuan was normal.

The fact that the Forbidden City asked for 80,000 coins shows that they really wanted the manuscript.

But Fang Yuan didn't respond to that.

"Mr. Zhang, may I ask you a few questions first?" Fang Yuan said.

Zhang Heping leaned back in his chair and nodded.

The thermos was placed on the table, the lid not tightened, and wisps of steam were rising from it.

What's the current progress of "Party A, Party B"?

Zhang Heping glanced at Fang Yuan, a slight smile appearing on his face.

"You know this movie?"

"Well, I don't know much about it."

Zhang Heping moved the thermos cup to the side and said, "Filming started in August and will be almost finished by the end of September."

Filming is fast. Everyone in the industry knows Director Feng doesn't drag things out; the film is planned for release at the end of the year.

"How much should I invest?"

"More than three million. It's not a huge amount, but Director Feng is known for his cost control."

The entire crew of "The Dream Factory" consisted of fewer than 100 people and filmed for more than 40 days, saving money where it was necessary and spending money where it was necessary.

"Spending over three million yuan to make a Lunar New Year film is considered a mid-range budget in today's market."

Fang Yuan nodded.

Then he asked, "Has the schedule been set?"

"It's tentatively set. December 24th, Christmas Eve. This is the first Lunar New Year film in China, and we want to test the waters."

Zhang Heping paused here,

"No one had ever done this before, and nobody knew if the Lunar New Year film season would work. But someone had to take the first step."

Fang Yuan thought for a moment, then asked a more practical question:

"Mr. Zhang, may I ask you about the current state of the domestic film market?"

Zhang Heping smiled.

This time, the smile wasn't so relaxed; it carried a hint of helplessness.

"Not very good. There were more than 90 domestic films released last year, but the total box office was only a few hundred million yuan."

There are only about three thousand movie screens in the country, while in the United States, they cost more than ten thousand.

The number of viewers is decreasing year by year, and cinemas are becoming more and more deserted.

"We made this Lunar New Year film to try and see if we could bring the audience back."

He picked up his thermos, took a sip of water, and continued:

"When you write a novel, you have the final say. But when you make a movie, it's not the same."

Investors, producers, directors, screenwriters, and actors all have their own ideas.

Even if you manage to film your script, whether it will be released in theaters, how many screens it will be shown on, its screening rate, and its box office performance are all unknowns.

"Just because you write a good proposal doesn't guarantee success."

Fang Yuan listened without interrupting.

He knew that what Zhang Heping said was true because he had experienced it in his previous life.

"What about distribution?" Fang Yuan asked.

"The Forbidden City's own distribution network."

Beijing Film Company has a solid foundation, and with our own distribution channels, we can cover major cities.

We can cover about 30 provinces and cities across the country, including more than a dozen key cities.

But getting the tickets is one thing; whether the audience buys them is another.

After Zhang Heping finished speaking, he glanced at Fang Yuan, his gaze carrying a hint of scrutiny.

"Why are you asking so many questions? What's your reasoning?"

Fang Yuan said, "President Zhang, if you hand the manuscript over to the Forbidden City, I can consider it."

Zhang Heping didn't urge him, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm currently writing the script for 'Lost in Thailand,' and it's almost finished."

After listening, Zhang Heping picked up the thermos, unscrewed the lid, and screwed it back on. He did this twice.

The meeting room was silent for a few seconds.

Then Zhang Heping smiled.

"You've thought ahead. It seems you've been planning this for a while."

"Mr. Zhang, to be frank, if the market performs well with this first step, I have plans for this series to follow."

"Fang Yuan, let me tell you the truth."

His tone was a bit more somber than before.

"I really think highly of your notebook. I'm not just being polite."

I read hundreds of books in the Forbidden City every year, but I can only remember a few.

"Lost in Thailand" is one of them.

The Spring Festival travel rush, going home, and the hassle of the journey—every Chinese person has experienced these things.

What you're doing is down-to-earth stuff, which is rare.

He paused.

"However, when making a movie, investors want returns, producers want progress, directors want creative space, and actors want screen time."

As a newcomer, if you want to follow your own path in this industry, you'll face a lot of resistance.

I'm telling you in advance how difficult this industry is. So you're aware of it.

Fang Yuan nodded: "I understand."

"The Forbidden City is willing to talk to you because we are optimistic about your script and your potential."

But you have to understand that the domestic film market is only so big now, and only a few films a year can make money.

Your series of ideas are on the right track, but you have to take it one step at a time.

"Only when the first part succeeded could the second part follow."

Zhang Heping paused here and glanced at Fang Yuan.

How old are you this year?

"eighteen."

"I'm eighteen, I've written a book, and I even want to make a series." Zhang Heping smiled.

"When I was eighteen, I was still tightening screws in a factory. Okay, you have more ideas than I do."

He took a business card out of his jacket pocket, placed it on the table, and pushed it towards him.

"I'll wait a few days. Think things through and give me an answer."

We can discuss the notebook issue in more detail next time we meet.

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

Zhang Heping walked to the door, turned back, and said:

"Fang Yuan, I haven't looked at your notebook yet. Bring it next time you come."

I want to see if your screenplay is on par with your novel.

Fang Yuan said, "Okay."

Zhang Heping left with his assistant.

Only Teacher Shen and Fang Yuan remained in the meeting room.

Have you mentioned this series of events to anyone else?

"No. This is the first time I've said it today."

Teacher Shen nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

He stood up, patted Fang Yuan on the shoulder, said "Don't miss your classes," and left.

He sat for a while, then stood up, pushed his chair back under the table, and left the meeting room.

After leaving the office building, Fang Yuan walked halfway around the campus.

Several freshmen were playing soccer on the playground, and their shouts could be heard from afar.

Zhang Heping is a man who speaks frankly and directly.

Praise was given where it was due, and reminders were given where they were necessary.

Eighty thousand yuan was a considerable sum for adaptation in those days, but he didn't respond to that offer.

It wasn't because he didn't have enough money; it was because he hadn't decided whether or not to sell.

Or rather, in what way to sell it.

Zhang Heping is right; the film and television industry is not that simple.

But Fang Yuan had been in this industry for over ten years in his previous life, so what kind of tricks hadn't he seen?

He understood better than anyone the difficulties that newcomers should face.