Chapter 86: Farewell

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(Thanks to 'happysky1a', 'leesen2004', and 'morroind' for your generous support and encouragement. Much appreciated! The Black Car humbly asks for votes for Sanjiang as well—thank you!)

By mid-May, all preparations were nearly complete. The costumes had been arranged with manufacturers for immediate production, and several factories were already working on the props. In these two areas alone, four million vanished.

Though four million disappeared in a blink, it was actually a huge saving. Next, it was time to head to Hengdian, which had long been coordinated with Wu Xiang, sticking to the tried and true approach: filming the dramatic scenes first.

But before that, a few things needed to be done. First was the one million promised for investment. Guan Hu had assembled everything needed, and another million had been sourced from Third Master. With this capital, a small-budget urban film should present no issues.

For "Board the Car, Let's Go," Wu Xiang was mainly the producer; the title of executive producer was just for show. He felt this film belonged to Guan Hu and decided to let him direct boldly—after all, his skills were top-notch.

Besides, when an executive producer meddles too much in a film, conflicts inevitably arise. Wu Xiang remembered well the many rumors in the industry of certain superstar-directors dominating their productions, suffocating the directors. Such discord was all too common.

There was another matter, too: negotiating the audiovisual release for "First Intimate Encounter." Hualu Media had been set early on, but Yu Dong felt they shouldn’t let the company have it so cheaply.

Most of the film’s operation had been managed by Yu Dong, who also provided valuable advice, yet Hualu’s initial offer was just five hundred thousand—a price impossible to accept.

Bear in mind, "First Intimate Encounter" was now a box office champion, with rare takings near a hundred million. Even the best works by renowned directors seldom grossed more than forty million.

In the end, Hualu gritted their teeth and raised the offer to two million—several times their original bid. In the current audiovisual market, this was unheard of, mainly because piracy was rampant and profits were meager.

But there was one condition: the movie channel had to delay broadcasting "First Intimate Encounter," as television was simply too widespread.

Naturally, this was not a problem. The movie channel paid little, only one million this time, but Wu Xiang still sold them the rights.

This price was low; in mature film markets, such as the United States, it would be ridiculous—Hollywood’s income from home media and cable rights often exceeds box office. But here, all that could be done was wait for regulations and the market to evolve.

Even so, the film’s copyright income this time was impressive for domestic standards—no one else could get such a price, that’s the truth. Besides, the movie channel belonged to China Film Group; could anyone refuse Third Master’s favor?

Wu Xiang thus pocketed three million—not bad, but the bad news was that "First Intimate Encounter" hit trouble in the overseas market.

First, American distributors declined to import the film. America’s film market was excellent, the best. Wu Xiang was somewhat prepared for this outcome, but the reason given was unexpected.

They said the film contained elements satirizing overweight people, which in America could lead to lawsuits!

Upon hearing this, Wu Xiang couldn’t help but mutter, “Aren’t you supposed to have freedom of speech?”

What was meant to be an inspiring story was interpreted differently there—the tone instantly changed. Truthfully, most Americans aren’t overweight by choice; there, the poorer you are, the fatter you become—organic, healthy food is simply unaffordable.

Forget it, too many complexities; Monsanto is too powerful, best not to provoke them. If the American market is closed, there’s always another—Japan. Kazuo Fukazawa was again interested in the film, found it promising, but he was an old fox.

He insisted on the same terms as for "Mountain, Man, Dog"—a higher share of the profits, plus exclusive novel rights, bundling the deal together.

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Wu Xiang's novel was already selling in Japan, handled by a bookseller from Taiwan. Their traditional Chinese edition sold well, so naturally, the next step was to expand into other markets. The Japanese market was familiar territory for them—their connections were tight.

Thus, negotiations had to be made—complex, of course, and Wu Xiang had no time for them. He simply insisted that this time, there would be no more than ten percent conceded.

Yu Dong’s team handled the negotiations; Wu Xiang lacked such talent unless he stepped in personally, which was clearly impossible. He sighed, realizing his team wasn’t robust enough yet—more talent was needed.

Wu Xiang really had no experience running a company, nor did he want to be distracted by it. That’s why he only invested in Penguin and Ali, never aiming for full control.

Enough—these matters are the bane of brain cells. Better to focus on filmmaking.

Before leaving, Wu Xiang had other things to attend to.

“I say, have you been possessed?” The tone resembled Han Sanping’s, but it was Wu Xiang’s teacher, Han Xiaolei, speaking as Wu Xiang was bidding him farewell.

“No, I just have real confidence this time—I’m going big!”

Seeing his attitude, Teacher Han sighed, “Boy, your ambition’s showing. Looks like this old man is truly old. If you do lose, don’t take it too hard.”

“Why not wish me well for once? What if I turn the whole market around? What if I become the savior of the film industry?” Wu Xiang joked.

“Alright! You’re truly ambitious! I didn’t teach you in vain. But I have a question for you.”

“Ask away, Teacher. We’re family.”

“I remember, when you applied to film school you said you didn’t want to make rural-themed movies because you hadn’t lived that life. So now I ask: you’re not from the Han Dynasty, you never lived under Emperor Wu—how can you make this film?”

It was a simple question, but it carried a deeply professional implication.

Wu Xiang caught the nuance and confidently replied, “Teacher, I’m not from the Han Dynasty, but nobody is. Since none of us are from that era, whatever I film becomes that era!”

“Hahaha…” Teacher Han laughed heartily. “Go ahead, boldly make your film!”

Wu Xiang’s answer seemed to dodge the issue, but in fact, it was the best response.

Though it was a farewell, both were in high spirits. At the end, Teacher Han reminded Wu Xiang that if any actors finished shooting and had nothing to do, they should return—referring to the class of ’99 acting students, many of whom Wu Xiang had recruited, to the chagrin of their homeroom teacher.

After saying goodbye to his teacher, it was time to bid farewell to his girlfriend.

“Xiao Hai, while I'm gone, watch your diet. Don't let yourself become a fatty again.”

“None of your business!”

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“When you ride, don’t use the big chainring with the small cog—you’ll end up with thick legs!”

“You’re so naggy!”

…Wu Xiang and Hai Qing naturally spent their last moments together amid flowers and moonlight, exchanging endless reminders.

“Xiao Wu! What do you think of Xiao Chu?” Hai Qing found a moment to ask.

“Xiao Chu?” Wu Xiang knew she meant Zhang Jingchu. “What about her?”

“I just feel she looks at you differently!” Hai Qing, with a woman’s intuition, sensed it—even a tomboy has such skills!

“No way? I only noticed she’s really interested in money. What else could interest her?” Wu Xiang wasn’t being sarcastic; after all his interactions, he knew Zhang Jingchu’s family wasn’t well-off, and she was alone in the capital. Earning more was only reasonable.

“You!” Hai Qing was speechless. She was actually a bit worried, because the man before her was her true love—and in high demand.

Wu Xiang could see Hai Qing’s anxiety. “Don’t worry! Your husband will never be another Chen Shimei!”

“Go to hell!” Hai Qing was as shy as ever, embarrassed, but laughing as she raised her hand to strike him.

“Attempted murder of your husband!”

“That’s what you get for saying such things!”

They frolicked for a while. Wu Xiang wasn’t overmatched—he simply let her win. Suddenly, a thought struck him, and he grasped Hai Qing’s hands, pulling her into his embrace.

Hai Qing was startled for a moment, but quickly read Wu Xiang’s intentions in his eyes, closing her own.

Her red lips were right there, but as Wu Xiang prepared to kiss her, a strong mental warning stopped him—the braces were still on.

What to do? Was he really going to be so timid?

To hell with it!

Wu Xiang lowered his head and kissed her with deep affection. The sweet, jelly-like sensation came rushing back once more…