Chapter 117: Masters Abound Everywhere

"Look here, do you see this? I think the xun would be perfect for this part. Its timbre highlights a sense of vastness and profound distance, while carrying a hint of solitude—it’s just right... And here, you need drums. It’s a battle scene; the sound of drums has symbolic meaning... And this part would be great for an erhu..."

Believe it or not, Wu Tong had barely looked at Wu Xiang’s film before he started offering insightful suggestions.

"What is a xun?" Wu Xiang was truly ignorant in this regard.

"It’s a wind instrument. When you blow into it, it makes a sort of 'woo-woo' sound. It’s an ancient instrument of our Han people, and it’s perfectly suited for your film." Wu Tong’s explanation was quite professional.

"Can you find a master of this instrument?" Wu Xiang asked.

"You’ve come to the right person," Wu Tong smiled. "The best xun player is my teacher. If you need one, I can get you in touch with him."

"Your teacher?" Wu Xiang had no idea who his teacher was.

"Well, from the China National Traditional Orchestra, there’s Cao Jianguo. I also have another teacher, Yang Shoucheng," Wu Tong replied candidly.

"The National Orchestra..." Wu Xiang muttered, seemingly satisfied. "Alright, let’s give it a try."

"Deal!"

Wu Tong went back to find his teachers immediately. Of course, it couldn't be rushed; the earliest they could meet was tomorrow. Wu Xiang seized the time to look up information on these two men, Cao Jianguo and Yang Shoucheng.

"Holy cow!" When Wu Xiang found their profiles, he realized he had struck gold, and that old man Wang hadn't been pulling his leg at all.

Yang Shoucheng was a virtuoso performer of the sheng—incredibly talented, though the instrument wasn't widely known these days, so he lacked fame. The other man, Mr. Cao Jianguo, was even more impressive: a master of the xun and one of the top 200 artists in the world, far more legendary than Tan Dun.

These were true masters! He was incredibly lucky!

Thinking about it, it made sense; how could the 'National Orchestra' be anything but top-tier? If they weren't the best in the circle of traditional and folk music, who would be?

After reviewing the materials, Wu Xiang made his decision: the score for *Emperor Wu of Han* would be handled by Wu Tong. He should work with his teachers, and money would be no object.

Of course, Wu Xiang was boasting a bit with that last part. He was so generous only because he felt that such artists likely wouldn't demand an exorbitant fee.

Sure enough, Wu Tong replied, "I just want 100,000, and I’ll split that with my teachers."

Only 100,000!

That was truly reasonable. However, they did have one small request: could the film’s credits include an introduction to these traditional instruments?

Wu Xiang didn't hesitate for a second. "Don't worry, I’ll make sure to promote our national heritage properly!"

With the score settled, Wu Xiang felt incredibly relieved. Just as that was finalized, more good news arrived.

*First Intimate Contact* was released in Japan. After just three days—a single weekend—it had already grossed over 100 million yen, much to the delight of the distributors.

In 2001, a gross of over 100 million yen in three days was quite impressive, especially for a domestic film in Japan. What made it even rarer was that Wu Xiang’s film wasn't a rural drama featuring impoverished, rustic characters, nor was it an action film like *Shaolin Temple*.

It was a modern romance. Such films had a market in Japan, but they had never seen one like this: a love story set in the bustling, contemporary metropolis of China.

Regardless, the results were good, and Wu Xiang was naturally pleased—it meant money.

Meanwhile, *Get in the Car, Let's Go* had also undergone standard licensing procedures. Hualu bought the distribution rights for home media, and the Movie Channel bought the television broadcast rights. There was no room for innovation; that was simply the way things were sold at the time.

The film hadn't been a massive box-office hit, so the price was modest, earning Wu Xiang another 500,000 or so in dividends. Honestly, considering the prices had gone up, it wasn't bad at all.

Of course, with the mainland market covered, he had to develop overseas markets as well.

Hong Kong had already been tried, but the results were mediocre. Released in March, it only grossed a paltry 500,000 Hong Kong dollars—a disappointing performance.

The reason was likely that the Hong Kong audience couldn't grasp some of the humor; the Shandong dialect probably didn't translate well for them. This was normal—much like how films by director Feng Xiaogang sold well in the north but only moderately in the south.

Because of the poor performance in Hong Kong, Taiwanese distributors got cold feet. They analyzed the situation and realized they also had a primarily southern-oriented audience, so they decided to pass.

Both those overseas markets were out, but there were others.

France—that romantic country with the Eiffel Tower, Sophie Marceau, and brands like Peugeot and Renault.

Generally speaking, France had good diplomatic relations with China. They preferred unilateral policies and didn't follow the path of the old-school superpowers.

It was much like when the United States wanted independence; France helped them immensely, which infuriated the British. Everyone knew France gifted the Statue of Liberty to the U.S., but perhaps fewer knew that France had done something even friendlier: they sold the vast territory of Louisiana to the U.S. at an incredibly low price—territory that was larger than the U.S. itself at the time.

That was unilateralism, and now they were turning their attention toward China. If others were unhappy, France would just say, "Oh, great, I’ll be on good terms with them just to annoy you."

At the time, Chirac was in power, which was much better than his successors.

The French were fascinating, which was why many of our great directors loved sending their films to French festivals. Not only was the standard high, but they were also receptive.

Of course, they would occasionally take the opportunity to mock certain issues, like when Director Zhang had a falling out with Pierre Rissient.

This time, a French company reached out, wanting to buy the distribution rights for *Get in the Car, Let's Go* as well as *First Intimate Contact*.

The company’s name was simple: M6. Why were they taking the initiative? It had to do with another film.

Both *Get in the Car, Let's Go* and *First Intimate Contact* were handled by Yu Dong’s Bona Film Group. Yu Dong had made money on both, and the profit margins were excellent. He was essentially a middleman. Yu Dong had set his sights on a film called *The Touch*.

Wu Xiang knew this film. To be honest, it was terrible—and I don't mind offending anyone by saying that. But it starred a big name, Michelle Yeoh, and it was a Chinese-American co-production. In those days, such collaborations were rare, which gave it an exotic appeal.

With Michelle Yeoh, there was action; with foreigners involved, there was novelty. The film was likely to make money.

So, Yu Dong went to negotiate, and in the process, he encountered the M6 company.

M6 was quite eccentric—even stingier than Yu Dong. They immediately demanded a buyout of the distribution rights for *The Touch* in France. Naturally, Michelle Yeoh couldn't agree to that; she was a veteran of the industry. How could she accept such a lowball offer?

M6 didn't close the deal with Michelle Yeoh, but they started talking to Yu Dong instead.

They wanted to buy out his two films, too—M6 really was quite unscrupulous.

Westerners could be interesting in business; they were like a straight stick, unable to bend. But even if they couldn't bend, we could. Yu Dong knew a bit about the French market, and with his previous experience negotiating with the Japanese, he came up with a simple plan: he approached another company.

Ocean Films was also a distributor, but the price they offered was... even lower.

That’s right, lower than M6. There was a reason for this: they had recently been burned by a Chinese filmmaker.

The film was *Devils on the Doorstep*, a masterpiece by the famous actor-director Jiang Wen. Because the film was submitted to a festival without official approval, it was banned in China. However, it could be shown abroad, and it even won a major prize at Cannes. Consequently, this company had bought the distribution rights for France and Europe at a high price.

Unfortunately, the film caused Ocean Films to lose a fortune. *Devils on the Doorstep* premiered in France in March 2001, but the box office was abysmal. The reason was very simple: despite the Cannes award, the average European citizen simply didn't care about the anti-fascist war in Asia.

They didn't care at all, because that was how they were educated. Very few people understood Asian history; they only knew that the Japanese had been defeated by the Americans. As for what the Japanese had done beforehand, they didn't care, nor did they know.

There was no helping it. Since Japan was an ally of the West, and the Western media landscape was effectively controlled by the Americans, why would they criticize their own ally? Even the worst deeds were downplayed.

So, could the box office be high? Since they had been burned so badly, how could they offer Yu Dong a high price when he came to negotiate?

But that didn't matter. As long as he was at the table, that was enough.

M6 didn't know how much Ocean Films had offered—that was a trade secret—but they did know that another French company was interested in Yu Dong's two films.

Thus, when Yu Dong returned to the negotiating table, he easily secured two revenue-sharing contracts, handing both films over to the stingy M6 company.

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