Chapter 141: Mainland Box Office Hits 120 Million

Thanks again to 'hzwangdd' for the tip, and for the two monthly tickets from Tianmeng. Thank you very much!

Time flies. As November arrived in the north, the temperature dropped rapidly.

By this point, Wu Xiang's *Emperor Han Wu* could no longer linger on the big screens in cinemas. Its final box office gross settled at just over 120 million yuan, meaning that the box office earnings of the last three weeks could not even match those of the first three days.

Still, it was a decent run. Compared to other films, this was considered quite strong. However, having suffered from piracy, any dreams of breaking the 200 million mark were completely out of the question.

Wu Xiang felt a slight pang of disappointment, and not for any other reason than watching his prospects look so bright, with a genuine chance of shattering the 200 million barrier and fully ushering in the era of domestic blockbusters. Alas, he had been betrayed from within—well, piracy did pretty much amount to that.

Yet, after all was said and done, the film had pulled in a massive box office, and its results were exceptionally brilliant. How many domestic films could cross the 100 million mark in this day and age? Only last year's *Choice* came close.

While there was a lingering sense of unwillingness, he had still made money, making his feelings quite complicated indeed. Even so, Wu Xiang did not stay idle. Through Third Master's connections, he secured the official approval for his new television drama, *Drawing Sword*, which counted as another harvest.

Wu Xiang probably never expected that although his film did not entirely usher in the era of domestic blockbusters, many film critics would regard it as the enlightenment of the blockbuster era.

Did you hear those two words? Enlightenment. That was quite a lofty status, bearing a flavor somewhat reminiscent of figures like Montesquieu during the French Revolution. Of course, that was a story for another day.

Most directly, Wu Xiang had gifted the domestic film market with a National Day holiday box office slot. Everyone could see that the scheduling during this period was quite favorable.

Debates surrounding the film continued unabated, with everyone arguing with great fervor. On one side, people claimed that Wu Xiang had invented history; on the other, they argued that the film's scale and visual effects were both top-notch. Each side held firm to its own view, and the arguments showed no signs of subsiding until Sister Jolie's *Lara Croft: Tomb Raider* took over the screens.

From this perspective, Wu Xiang had achieved both fame and fortune this time around, even earning himself the moniker of an inventor.

Aside from its theatrical run in the mainland, the film was also released in Hong Kong. There was no National Day holiday slot in the Hong Kong region because they only granted a single day off. Nevertheless, releasing it during this period in Hong Kong was necessary, knowing full well that Hong Kong was a heavy disaster zone for piracy. If you released it later, the subsequent box office would be entirely unwatchable.

Yet precisely because of the one-day holiday, the box office performance of *Emperor Han Wu* was rather mediocre, pulling in just over 10 million yuan after a three-week run.

Mediocre was indeed the right word, primarily due to the impact of piracy. That particular batch of pirate copies had originated from the south, and the person caught was affiliated with China Film Southern Cinema Circuit. This incident made Han Sanping lose quite a bit of face at the time, but Wu Xiang could not press the matter too much—Third Master simply had to be given his due respect.

The release in Taiwan had not yet taken place, as they lacked a 'National Day' holiday altogether, though arrangements had been finalized for a year-end release.

With such a strong showing domestically, many international film brokers caught wind of the success and swarmed in to discuss overseas distribution rights. The film was undeniably good; it was a historical epic, and importing it posed no problems whatsoever.

In Europe, the buyers remained the M6 company and that O-Film company. Both of them stepped forward this time, recognizing that the film in Yu Dong's hands was a genuine treasure. M6 had tasted sweetness previously, while O-Film was kicking itself with regret. Consequently, a fierce scramble between them was inevitable.

This time brought a pleasant surprise: an American company expressed interest in the film—none other than Miramax, the very same company that had previously lost a staggering one hundred million Hong Kong dollars!

Not that they lost it entirely; after all, home video sales remained an option. Yet they could hardly be said to have given up the ghost—well, perhaps that phrasing was slightly off, but surely they could not simply come to Asia and hemorrhage money for nothing, even if most American companies of the era were led by people with more money than sense.

Miramax wanted to buy out the global rights in a lump sum, much like they had done with *The Legend of Zu*. Naturally, the price was nowhere near that of the previous film; they only offered 10 million Hong Kong dollars.

Wu Xiang rejected the offer on the spot. Even if the film never screened in the United States, he refused to be bought out for such a paltry sum! In his heart, Wu Xiang thought: if you bastards offered me a hundred million, I might sell it to you!

With Wu Xiang being so decisive, wasn't he afraid that Miramax would be discouraged and back out?

As for that matter, Wu Xiang knew in his heart that Miramax would not give up so easily.

Why say that? It was very simple: Miramax's entry into Asia, specifically into Hong Kong, meant they genuinely wanted to accomplish great things!

Because numerous rumors surrounded the company—later on, they successfully orchestrated the North American release of director Zhang Yimou's *Hero*—Wu Xiang had previously researched the firm. By then it was already 2004, an era when the internet was far more developed, making it much simpler to check information on any given company.

Upon entering Hong Kong, Miramax directly leased two floors of high-end office space in Central. In Hong Kong, every inch of land was worth a fortune, and this was considered a major gesture. Securing office space on such a grand scale clearly signaled an intention for a long-term battle.

Therefore, regarding the Asian market—to put it bluntly, regarding China's domestic cinema—Miramax harbor ambitions; these fellows were not merely passing through to dabble.

It was just that they were somewhat tragic figures. After suffering a massive hemorrhage on *The Legend of Zu*, followed by several more heavy losses, they were eventually swindled by domestic filmmakers to the point of complete anemia. Left with no alternative, they had fled to Shenzhen in the mainland, temporarily squatting in a small two-story building until *Hero* was released in North America, which finally allowed them to recoup some funds.

This could be considered a deeply inspiring story: after enduring a series of scams and blunders, they finally stumbled upon a profitable venture. Foreigners sometimes failed to understand China's national conditions, and tuition fees simply had to be paid.

Yet this also demonstrated their steadfast determination, unafraid of being duped, which left Wu Xiang with no need to rush.

After all, he wasn't trying to scam anyone; the quality of his film stood rock-solid!

Sure enough, it wasn't long before Miramax came knocking once again. This time, they put forward a rather appealing proposal: a film exchange.

Simply put, they would trade a title from their own catalog for his film, and each party would handle distribution in their respective territories.

And what sort of film did they bring to the table?

*Malèna*!

In fairness, it was an exceptionally fine film. While its overseas box office might not have been astronomical, the movie enjoyed immense fame, and the lead actress was a household name. It possessed tremendous commercial potential.

Yet Wu Xiang knew full well that if this film were to screen in the mainland, cuts amounting to a dozen or two dozen scenes were an absolute certainty—there were simply far too many sequences unsuitable for children. Furthermore, the film had already been released in Hong Kong, meaning that if it subsequently headed to the mainland, piracy would instantly slaughter its prospects.

Therefore, Wu Xiang rejected the proposal just as directly. You are trying to trap me! Do you have any sincerity at all?!

Doing business sometimes worked this way: never agree too easily, and never act as though you were desperate to sell or strapped for cash, or your goods would inevitably lose their value!

Wu Xiang maintained his posture, and he had the capital to do so. He was not short of money at the moment; between the mainland and Hong Kong box office earnings, after deducting various expenses, his share amounted to over twenty million yuan. Although his planned film and television studio complex was a money-eating machine, those investments would roll out step-by-step. For now, shooting a television drama, by Wu Xiang's calculation, required little more than 10 million yuan, which was more than enough.

By the time Miramax approached Wu Xiang for the third time, they were informed that Director Wu had gone off to shoot a new drama.

Needless to say, he had naturally gone to film *Drawing Sword*. As for the preparations, Wu Xiang had spent several months on them, and the timing was just right; with winter approaching, they could begin filming certain sequences.

As for Miramax over there, heh, they could simply wait a little longer.

Playing mind games in business meant one must never rush!

Wu Xiang had gathered everyone he wanted, including the actors cast as Japanese soldiers. In this regard, Wu Xiang had no intention of cutting corners like the original version of *Drawing Sword*; this time, the majority of actors he hired were genuine Japanese nationals.

Junichi Ozaki lacked any major renown, but his background was stellar: he was a graduate of the Beijing Film Academy.

That's right, he was an alumnus just like Wu Xiang. This was true; Junichi Ozaki was even a classmate from the same cohort, the class of '97. Not only him, but also Kenichiro Ota and Yoshihisa Kutsumi were part of the '97 cohort as well.

Junichi Ozaki had previously made an appearance in *Devils on the Doorstep*, though not in a major role; one had to scrutinize the cast list very carefully to spot him. He fit the role of Battalion Commander Yamazaki to perfection.

Kenichiro Ota was actually a director and somewhat older in age; Wu Xiang had recruited him specifically to play General Yoshio Shizuno. As for Yoshihisa Kutsumi, Wu Xiang figured he could just play some random Japanese military officer.

They had all been found lingering outside the gates of the film academy, looking for work. These folks had traveled all this way; failing to act in a production would be a terrible injustice to themselves! These individuals constituted the more important cast members. As for those who only appeared briefly before vanishing, plenty of them were found as well, given the abundance of Japanese exchange students at the Film Academy.

Speaking of the Beijing Film Academy, it truly enjoyed immense prestige—fame that resonated globally. Specialized art institutions, particularly those focused on performing arts, were exceedingly rare worldwide, very rare indeed. And institutions authorized to confer nationally recognized bachelor's degrees were scarcer still.

Powerful as the United States was, higher education institutions of that specific type were few. The University of Southern California was famous, but it wasn't a specialized standalone academy; rather, it was a school within USC, producing renowned directors like Robert Zemeckis alongside numerous actors. On the specialized side, the New York Film Academy came to mind, but it operated as a private institution where enrollment depended on tuition rather than selectivity. While many attended simply to pad their resumes, offering acting courses ranging from two months to two years, it did grant true bachelor's degrees.

Europe had few such schools, and Asia even fewer. When it came to professional rigor, China's own specialized academies remained unmatched, utterly crushing the rest of Asia whether in theoretical knowledge or practical competence.

Japan and South Korea relied solely on corporate training programs, while Hong Kong possessed the renowned TVB Artist Training Scheme. Among these, the TVB training class offered a relatively professional curriculum, yet it only provided a six-month training period.

Therefore, for those seeking systematic study and a mastery of theoretical knowledge across the whole of Asia, one had to come and take entrance exams in China's mainland. In reality, the Film Academy welcomed numerous exchange students from Japan and South Korea every year, their numbers rivaling those of domestic students.

With so many students at the Film Academy, were there any who lacked formal professional training?

There was one—a Japanese actor named Yano Koji!