Chapter Twenty-Nine: Words Must Be Kept

"Last words?" Han Sanping clearly couldn't remember if there was anything at the end; all he could recall was the overwhelming shock of that human-made dam.

"This film's entire box office revenue will be donated to the disaster victims and to the reforestation project in the upper Yangtze River," Wu Xiang replied with the answer.

"Oh?" Han Sanping's brows knitted even tighter. "Are you absolutely certain you'll follow through with that? Then what do you want all that box office for?"

Wu Xiang settled his whole body into his chair, smiling as he replied, "Of course, it's to be donated to the disaster area, and of course, to plant trees so the Yangtze will never again be as terrifying as it was this year."

Han Sanping said nothing, but his gaze turned exceedingly complex.

What an age this was—even after nearly twenty years of reform and opening up, not to mention millions, even hundreds of thousands was a colossal sum. Not to speak of others—even for Han Sanping himself, last year's "The Dream Factory" had been shot with just one million he had managed to persuade the master hustler Mou Qizhong to invest, plus three hundred thousand from the Wang brothers. Han Sanping was, after all, the head of the largest film studio in the country, and even one million was so hard to come by.

This film might not necessarily make a huge profit, but if several million in box office shares were placed before him, even he would hesitate, consider, and ask himself whether he should really honor the promise to donate all the profits. After all, a few million could solve a great many problems.

Thinking of this, Han Sanping wanted to confirm once more, "No matter how much it is, you'll donate it all?"

Wu Xiang just chuckled. He didn't answer directly, but instead said, "Teacher Han, may I tell you what I was thinking earlier?"

Han Sanping found this somewhat odd, but could only answer, "Go ahead."

Wu Xiang took a deep breath and began slowly, "At first, when I was preparing this film, I was indeed moved by the national flood-fighting efforts—that's the truth. But very soon, I realized that making a film on this subject at this time would naturally draw immense attention due to the event itself. In other words, the publicity would come almost for free. So, I became certain that as long as the film wasn't terrible, it was bound to be a huge box office success!"

As Wu Xiang spoke, Han Sanping kept nodding. He was now convinced that this young man before him had a forward-thinking grasp of the film market, though something felt off in his heart.

"Success is almost a given, but..." Wu Xiang paused, shifting his tone, "what kind of success would it be? While our publicity would focus on the positive, heroic image of the flood-fighting soldiers and civilians, the fact remains that in a time of national crisis, I'd be making big money from such an event—isn't that profiting from a national disaster?!"

Wu Xiang's words landed like a heavy hammer on Han Sanping's heart; that uneasy feeling he'd had was precisely about this—profiting from tragedy. Wu Xiang's words, though, were almost hypnotically persuasive.

"Of course, that's just my own view. Still, I can imagine people voicing such criticism, even if I'm sure it won't be the mainstream opinion. In fact, even if I only donated part of the box office, those voices would disappear. But it would still be profiting from a national disaster!" Wu Xiang paused again.

Wu Xiang fell silent, but Han Sanping's mind was racing. He thought of how he'd managed to wheedle Mou Qizhong out of his money—Mou had gotten in trouble for his wild satellite schemes and landed in jail, so Han Sanping hadn't shared any profits with him. Wasn't that a bit ungracious? But he quickly rationalized: even if there was to be generosity, that would have to wait until Mou got out.

Wu Xiang had no idea what Han Sanping was thinking. He only saw the changes flickering across Han's face and figured his words were having some effect, so he pressed on: "That's right, profiting from disaster! Even if I don't care what the media says, even if I don't care what others think, I can't get past myself!"

This time, Han Sanping was truly drawn in by Wu Xiang's words. "Why?"

"At first, I really did consider being a scoundrel and making a token donation. But then, as I filmed those real-life stories of heroism, as I saw the disaster victims weeping, as I watched our soldiers plunge fearlessly into the icy river—how could I do that? If I made a fortune from this film, even if no one called me out, I'd never sleep well again. I’d be nothing but a bastard! So I’ll donate it all—no matter how much, I’ll give it all, as long as I’m still a decent human being!"

Wu Xiang's words, though spoken softly, carried an unshakable force that left no room for doubt about his motives. To tell the truth, he’d first told his friends in Dorm 307 that everything would be donated, and what he was saying now was the honest truth in his heart. For a man who had been poor for two lifetimes, who wouldn't hesitate when faced with such a sum? He had struggled, but in the end, he would fulfill his promise.

In Han Sanping's ears, Wu Xiang’s words were deeply moving—sincere, without the faintest hint of pretense.

"Very well, I understand," Han Sanping said at last, clearly convinced. But then he changed tack, "However, if this film really succeeds, if you donate a huge sum—even if you won’t profit, your reputation..."

He was speaking honestly: there's no profit, but there’s fame. Wu Xiang chuckled, "That’s right, I won’t deny that I’ll become famous for it. If someone accuses me of grandstanding, I’ll accept it—there's nothing I can do about that. But let’s be honest, if I give up the money and don’t even earn any reputation, wouldn’t all my hard work be for nothing? And my friends would have worked for nothing, too!"

Han Sanping found Wu Xiang refreshingly forthright. He continued, "That’s not what I meant. I mean, you and your friends may gain fame, but what does the North Film Studio get out of it?"

It was a reasonable question. This project was mainly in cooperation with the August First Studio; if North Film only handled distribution, they wouldn't make any money. Why should they put in the effort?

But Wu Xiang avoided a direct answer. Instead, he smiled and said, "As for North Film, Teacher Han, if I’m not mistaken, you’re about to undergo an integration—a major restructuring to form an enormous enterprise group, merging the National Film Company, your North Film Studio, the film channel, and..."

"You—how do you..." Han Sanping was stunned. The China Film Group’s integration was highly confidential; outsiders shouldn’t know. How did this young man know?

Of course, Han Sanping would never know that Wu Xiang was a man reborn, and for someone in the industry, how could he not know about the founding of the China Film Group, such a major event?

"This kid must have an impressive background, otherwise how could he know about this?" Han Sanping’s mind was racing. "Which veteran surnamed Wu is there in the upper echelons? There aren’t many..."

Unaware of Han Sanping’s inner calculations, Wu Xiang noticed the silence and pressed on, "After this integration, what kind of enterprise will be born—you know better than I do. But who will be its helmsman? Teacher Han, last year’s 'The Dream Factory' was a great success, and this year, Director Feng’s new work is set for another big hit. My film, though just the cherry on top for you, will nonetheless showcase and promote..."

"I understand!" Han Sanping cut him off before Wu Xiang could finish.

There was no need for further words; they were both clever men. China Film was no private company; profits were one thing, but other considerations were equally vital. To put it plainly, "The Great Flood" would win Han Sanping credit. The intricacies of such matters were best left unspoken, and Han Sanping also realized that if Wu Xiang truly had some connection to the higher-ups, it would be a valuable asset.

"We’ll proceed according to your plan. Whether or not the film is a box office hit, we’ll donate all the profits!"

"Fantastic!" Wu Xiang was naturally delighted.

The deal was struck, and both sides were in high spirits...

Wu Xiang returned to school in a flurry, heading straight for Dorm 307, knowing a group of classmates would be waiting anxiously for news.

With a bang, he flung open the door, then slammed a thick contract onto the table. He’d meant to keep his cool, but he couldn’t suppress his grin.

"It’s done?" The eight men in Dorm 307 gaped, mouths wide enough to fit several eggs each.

"It’s done." Wu Xiang tried to keep a straight face, but failed.

"How did you negotiate that?" Brother Kun was baffled—not just him, everyone found it hard to believe that such a wild profit-sharing arrangement had been accepted.

"Come on, who am I? Is there anything I can’t pull off once I step in?" Wu Xiang was absolutely insufferable now, swaggering with arrogance.

"Hey, this guy is still trying to show off with us! How should we deal with him?" Huang Haibo immediately shouted.

"Come on!" In a flash, everyone piled on.

"No, no, can’t we be a bit more civilized...?" Wu Xiang tried to escape, but in the confines of the dorm, there was nowhere to run. The eight hefty men tackled him, stacking themselves in a human pyramid, with him at the bottom...

The release date for "The Great Flood" was now set for January 21, 1999—just in time to catch the tail end of the New Year’s holiday season. This was a lightning-fast scheduling job; Han Sanping had used all his resources to make it happen. The reason was simple: the film was time-sensitive—it had to be released early, not late.

At the end of the twentieth century, the domestic film market was in transition. It had once been glorious, but now things were dire.

Still, there were signs of hope, thanks to one film in 1998—"Titanic." This blockbuster gave many cinemas on the brink of bankruptcy a lifeline. It was a box office miracle, causing a sensation in America that had Fox slapping its thighs in regret for having sold off part of the distribution rights. In China, it was also a market-saver.

"Titanic" was the first Hollywood blockbuster to hit the Chinese market, with terrifyingly high profits—and tickets went for eighty yuan apiece, no bargaining. Theaters gave it an unusually long run: eighteen months.

But that was a foreign film. The first domestic film to offer real hope was "The Dream Factory," the first commercial New Year’s blockbuster, but its box office was only several tens of millions—highlighting the weakness of domestic productions.

"The Great Flood" would have to face off against "Titanic," but they weren’t even in the same weight class. For Wu Xiang’s debut to stand out among domestic films would already be an achievement.

"Be There or Be Square," director Feng Xiaogang’s New Year film, had already premiered on December 17, 1998. This was both an advantage and a disadvantage for "The Great Flood": its strongest period would have passed, but it had already set a festive, joyful mood, making Wu Xiang’s tearjerker somewhat out of step with the holiday vibe.

Nor was Feng the only competitor. That year, Chen Peisi, having left comedy sketches behind, had directed "Three and a Half Good Men"; Zhao Benshan, the grandmaster of comic duets, and his old partner Song Dandan, had made "Male and Female Village Heads"; and Feng Gong, forsaking crosstalk, brought out "Happy Stealth."

Everyone, it seemed, was dabbling in film, finding it an amusing diversion.

And that was just the mainland. That year, Jackie Long had successfully broken into Hollywood, with "Rush Hour" already released. However, since the ECPA agreement hadn’t yet been signed, Jackie and Stephen’s Hong Kong films couldn’t be screened theatrically in the mainland—Hong Kong films were still considered foreign and subject to import quotas.

Still, you could always watch them in video parlors—another channel siphoning off theater revenue. The boom in video parlors was partly to blame for the poor state of cinema operations, and quite a few cinemas shamelessly opened their own video rooms.

Such was the competition—every contender formidable, every one a heavyweight.

What’s more, as Wu Xiang well knew, "The Great Flood," as a main-theme film, had a fatal flaw: it no longer had the advantage of block bookings.

Although he’d convinced Han Sanping at North Film and had Colonel Huang from the August First Studio on board, his own fame and connections were not sufficient to organize block bookings in his name—the main source of box office income for main-theme films.

In other words, Wu Xiang’s film was operating on a completely commercial model, from production to release, entirely outside the traditional framework of main-theme films.

Let the market decide, then!