Back to 17, My Brother is the Cult Leader

Fang Yuan remained silent for about two seconds.

He deliberately avoided visiting Wang Jinghua, because visiting her at that moment would be interpreted by those present as "he lacks confidence and needs his agent to save the day."

His gaze fell on Han Sanping's face, paused for a moment, and then he spoke.

"Mr. Han, the first two films were made by me and Beijing Film Studio."

I have no objection to Huayi Brothers and Emperor Entertainment Group participating in the investment this time. However, I would like to adjust the way they participate.

Han Sanping looked at him without saying a word.

"Two options," Fang Yuan said.

"The first option is to calculate my share in this project based on my valuation in Hollywood."

He took a folder from his briefcase, opened it, pulled out a few pages, and placed them on the table.

That was a copy of the original "Sniper Phone Booth" contract he signed with Fox.

Instead of showing the entire contract, he turned to the page with the key terms—an advance payment of $1.2 million, a 15 percent share of total revenue, and the title of producer.

Below are Fang Yuan's signature, Fox's seal, and the lawyer's signature.

He pushed the pages of paper to the center of the table.

"This is the contract I signed with Fox for 'Phone Booth'."

The advance payment was US$1.2 million, equivalent to a little over RMB10 million, plus a 15% share of the total revenue.

Based on this valuation, my involvement in a project would be worth no less than ten million RMB.

Based on this valuation, you can calculate my share and then transfer it to me according to my investment ratio.

The atmosphere in the meeting room changed.

Wang Zhongjun looked at the few pages of paper, his body unconsciously leaning forward slightly, but he quickly leaned back again.

He tried to maintain a calm expression, but Fang Yuan noticed that his gaze lingered on those lines of numbers for a longer time than usual.

Mr. Lin, the president of Emperor Group, did not hide his surprise. He picked up the few pages of paper, looked at them, raised his eyebrows, put them down, glanced at Fang Yuan, and his eyes held something he hadn't seen before.

Feng Xiaogang sat opposite him, not taking the contract, but his eyes remained fixed on those few pages.

He knew, of course, that Fang Yuan had projects in Hollywood, but when the figure was presented to him in black and white, he remained silent.

He had worked with Fang Yuan on two films and believed he understood Fang Yuan's abilities and positioning. However, this contract told him that Fang Yuan's valuation in another market was on a completely different level from his cooperation model in China.

Han Sanping picked up the contract and read it from beginning to end for about two minutes.

He looked very carefully.

After reading it, he put the contract down and, instead of returning it to Fang Yuan, placed it under his thermos.

"What about the second option?" Han Sanping asked.

Fang Yuan knew why Han Sanping asked about the second option first—the ten million valuation in the first option was unacceptable to everyone in the meeting room, not because Fang Yuan wasn't worth that price, but because the project's funding structure was already set. If Fang Yuan calculated his share based on the ten million valuation, it would mean he would own twenty percent of the fifty million project.

China Film Group, Huayi Brothers, and Emperor Entertainment Group all have to give up their respective shares, which is difficult to balance both politically and commercially.

"The second option," Fang Yuan said.

"I'm withdrawing from all investments and profits in this project, and will only take a screenwriting copyright fee, which will be settled in one lump sum."

After the settlement, all box office revenue, copyright fees, and derivative profits from this project will have nothing to do with me.

Wang Zhongjun and Mr. Lin from Emperor Group exchanged a glance.

Feng Xiaogang closed the folder.

Han Sanping held his thermos and remained silent for a few seconds.

"What's your price for the second option?"

Five million.

The meeting room fell silent for a moment.

This is not a number that was just casually reported.

Fang Yuan had done the math in his head—his contract advance at Fox was $1.2 million, which was about 10 million RMB.

Five million is half of that number.

He withdrew from all back-end revenue of the project, no longer assumed any risk, and did not participate in any profit sharing. This price was the lower limit he could accept.

He'd rather not do the project than accept a lower offer.

Feng Xiaogang was the first to speak.

"Fang Yuan, you know the going rate for top screenwriters in China; they don't earn more than 500,000 yuan per film. You're asking for an astronomical price."

Fang Yuan looked at him, not rushing to refute, and waited a moment before speaking.

"Director Feng, I know the market rate in China. But if I only take the domestic market rate, then my contracts in Hollywood will be meaningless."

It's not that I'm asking for an exorbitant price; it's that my labor is valued differently in the two markets.

If you want me to write the script for "Big Shot's Funeral" at domestic prices, then why should I take on this project?

I wrote a script directly in Los Angeles and sold it to Fox. The time and effort were the same, but the return was more than ten times greater.

Feng Xiaogang opened his mouth, but no words came out.

He wanted to refute it, but couldn't find a valid reason.

Fang Yuan's logic is simple, yet cruel—the power of the market.

In China, screenwriters are worthless; in Hollywood, good screenwriters are a scarce asset.

Fangyuan operates in both markets simultaneously, so you can't expect him to price according to low standards.

Wang Zhongjun glanced at Fang Yuan, then at Han Sanping.

He was waiting for someone to speak first.

Mr. Lin, the CEO of Emperor Entertainment Group, was also waiting, but his expression was more relaxed than before. Five million was not an outrageous figure for a screenwriter who could sign a contract with Fox with an advance payment of one million two hundred thousand US dollars. It could even be said to be the result of the other party making concessions.

Han Sanping put down the thermos and spoke.

His tone was calm and unhurried.

"Fang Yuan, the conditions you got in Hollywood are something the domestic market environment simply can't offer."

The project, worth 50 million, was pooled together by China Film Group, Huayi Brothers, and Emperor Entertainment Group, and their cash flow was already very tight.

A script fee of five million is indeed an astronomical sum according to domestic standards, but your situation is special, and we cannot apply domestic standards to you.

He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.

"It is a fact that Fang Yuan's first two films made money for Beijing Film Studio."

His Hollywood contracts are there, that's a fact.

We must respect both market principles and the contributions of our partners.

This is Huayi Brothers and Emperor Entertainment's first collaboration with Fang Yuan, so they may not be very familiar with his background, but box office results and awards don't lie.

He turned to Wang Zhongjun and General Manager Lin.

"My suggestion is—five million, settled in one lump sum, with all screenwriting copyrights belonging to the project owner."

Fangyuan withdrew from investment and profit sharing, and will no longer participate in back-end revenue.

The cost will be split among the three companies according to their investment ratio. China Film Group has no problem with this; do the other two companies have any objections?

Wang Zhongjun was silent for a few seconds, then nodded. "Huayi has no objections."

Mr. Lin, the general manager of Emperor Group, nodded. "Emperor Group agrees."