Back to 17, My Brother is the Cult Leader

Warner Bros. Studios is located in Burbank, and its entrance is very impressive.

There is a huge water tower at the entrance with the letters "WB" written on it.

Fang Yuan registered at the front desk and received a visitor card. Ellie accompanied him up to the third floor.

The door to the vice president's office was open.

Michael Ersh stood up from behind his desk and strode over.

He was in his early forties, with a little thinning hair, but he looked very energetic. He was wearing a light blue shirt without a tie, and the sleeves were rolled up to his forearms.

"Fang! Welcome, welcome!" His voice was bright, and his handshake was firm, but after shaking hands, his gaze immediately turned to Ellie. "Ellie, you look fantastic today."

Ellie smiled. "Thank you, Michael."

"I'm telling you, I received the email you sent me last time."

But I haven't had a chance to reply yet—never mind, I'll talk to you later. Come in and sit down!

He patted Fang Yuan on the shoulder and led them to the sofa area.

Fang Yuan sat down on the sofa, and Ellie sat next to him.

"I've read your novel," Michael said, getting straight to the point.

Fang Yuan said, "Thank you."

Michael laughed.

"Ellie said you were coming to Los Angeles, and I said I had to meet you."

"Your story," Michael withdrew his gaze and turned to Fang Yuan.

"A female high school student who was at the bottom of her class got into a top university in just one year."

Let me ask you a question—do you think North American audiences can understand the college entrance exam?

Fang Yuan said, "They don't need to understand the college entrance examination. They only need to understand that 'an exam can change one's destiny.'"

The United States has the SAT, Japan has entrance exams, and South Korea has the Shuneng.

The forms may differ, but the pressure is the same.

The core of this story isn't the college entrance exam, but about someone looked down upon by everyone proving they're not a failure.

At this point, Fang Yuan suddenly had a thought: there seems to be a movie about the SAT.

Michael nodded and tapped his fingers lightly on his knee twice.

"Second question. How much do you think it would cost to make this film?"

Fang Yuan said, "Three to five million US dollars. No special effects needed, no big scenes needed."

The biggest cost is the time span—the changes over a year need to be reflected through makeup and scenes, but that's controllable.

Michael sat on the sofa and glanced at Ellie.

Ellie didn't speak, but was writing something in her notebook.

"The third question," Michael said, "is how you want to collaborate?"

Fang Yuan said, "The copyright belongs to me. I've already written the script."

Warner Bros. can handle the production and North American distribution if possible. I'll handle the Asian market myself.

Michael sat up straight and placed his hands on his knees.

"This needs to be discussed," Michael said, his tone a little firmer than before.

"There's nothing to discuss," Fang Yuan said, his tone calm but firm.

"This is my own story, my own novel. I can listen to opinions on adapting it into a screenplay, but the final decision rests with me."

Michael looked at him but didn't say anything.

There was a two-second silence in the office.

"What about casting?" he asked.

"Everything belongs to Warner Bros. I'm not involved in things like investing, directing, or the production team."

Michael leaned back on the sofa, tapped his fingers twice on the armrest, and then laughed.

"Fine. The copyright and the Asian market are yours."

He stood up, walked to his desk, picked up the phone, and dialed a short number.

"Dave, please retrieve the template contract for that independent production and send it to my email."

After hanging up the phone, he turned around and looked at Fang Yuan:

"Write the script and send it to me. I'll have my team evaluate it. Once it's approved, the legal department will draft the contract."

"The screenwriter's fee will be based on the union's standards."

Fang Yuan stood up and extended his hand: "Okay."

"Ellie will handle the other specific matters with Warner Bros."

Michael took his hand and patted him on the shoulder with his other hand: "I'm looking forward to it. Really."

As Michael walked out of the office and reached the elevator, he caught up with Michael from behind.

"Wait a minute! Do you have anything else to do?"

Fang Yuan turned around. Michael looked at Ellie, not at Fang Yuan.

Ellie glanced at Fang Yuan, who said, "No."

"That's great!" Michael laughed.

"Let me show you around Warner Bros. Pictures."

He led Fang Yuan and Ellie downstairs, through a corridor, to a glass door.

He swiped his employee badge and pushed open the door.

"This is our film studio area," Michael said as they walked. "There are thirty-four studios in total. There are six of them filming right now."

They passed a half-open shed door, and Fang Yuan peeked inside.

Inside, a huge living room set was set up, with dazzling lights, and staff members were moving props.

Michael said in a low voice, "They're filming a TV series in this studio. I can't say the name; we've signed a confidentiality agreement."

Fang Yuan nodded.

After passing through the photography studio area, we arrived at a larger space.

The ceiling is at least three stories high, and it's filled with all sorts of things—

A half-finished spaceship model, several sets of medieval armor, a car cut in half, and a giant dinosaur skeleton hanging from the ceiling—it's unclear whether they're props or real models.

"A prop warehouse and special effects base," Michael gestured with his arms outstretched, a hint of smugness in his voice.

"You can find almost anything you need here. Of course, your film won't need any of this."

Fang Yuan smiled:

"Not necessarily. What if the female lead has a dream before her final exam, and there's a dragon in the dream?"

Michael paused for a moment, then burst into laughter:

"That's a good idea! We can consider it!"

He walked over to the spaceship model and patted its stand:

"This was made for a space opera, it took two years to make, but it only appeared for four minutes in the final cut."

Fang Yuan looked at the model; the details were exquisite.

"That's how movies are," Michael said.

"Ninety percent of the effort is put into ten percent of the shots."

Ellie chimed in from the side, "So, how much effort are you planning to put into our project?"

Michael turned to look at her, smiled, and said, "I'm willing to spend two hundred percent on that project."

After a half-hour visit, as they left the special effects base, Michael patted Fang Yuan on the shoulder:

"Next time you come, just ask my assistant to schedule a time. You don't need to go through the front desk."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Michael then turned to Ellie.

"Ellie, are you free tonight? I'd like to invite you to dinner to talk—about the release strategy for your project."

Ellie glanced at Fang Yuan.

"Mike, the boss has a lot to do these next few days. Let's meet again after the contract is ready."

"Alright then! Fang, best of luck!"

"Thank you, Mike."

Back in her office, Ellie asked:

"Boss, are we not going to invest in this film?"

"Ellie, I'm not considering investing. I'll just take the screenwriting fee and a share of the profits."

"We need to keep a low profile. Of the three films this year, 'Buried' hasn't been released yet, but the other two have already made too much profit."

"We've already secured over $3000 million in copyright and box office revenue after taxes, and there's more to come."

"You'll definitely be watched. Slow down, don't be in such a hurry."

"For the rest of this year, besides focusing on the release of 'Buried Alive,' you should concentrate your energy on the publication of the two new novels I gave you."

"In addition, I need to register some scripts. If someone wants to buy them, you will need to negotiate."

Unless specifically marked, we generally do not participate in submissions.