Chapter 94: Finding a Talent by Chance

Xiao Ran glared and said sternly, “Stop causing trouble and focus on your studies.”
“If they can do it, why can’t I?” Xiao Han protested, pouting and acting cute toward Xiao Ran. “I don’t care! I still want to act and sing!”
Xiao Ran was utterly overwhelmed. Before this issue could be resolved, another problem arose. He almost wanted to swear. After thinking for a moment and seeing the two sisters watching them with wide eyes, he shook his head and said to Xiao Han, “Well, if you really want to, you can do it in a few years. You’re still young—there’s no rush!”
“But they’re not much older than me. Why?” Xiao Han hugged Xiao Ran’s arm and shook it vigorously. Both sisters nodded, clearly puzzled why he refused.
Xiao Ran was sweating profusely. How had his sister become such a troublemaker? “I didn’t say they need to drop out right away to act. I just want to discuss it with them. If possible, we can sign a contract first and train before they start acting!”
“Is that so? Then I want it too! I definitely want it!” Perhaps having had no one to act cute around for a long time, Xiao Han decided to take her revenge on Xiao Ran today. Fortunately, though annoyed, Xiao Ran still enjoyed having someone act cute around him.
“Alright, as long as you can convince your parents, I won’t have any problems!” Xiao Ran glanced helplessly at Wei Jiahui, who was sneering, to show how pitiful he felt. Then he turned to the sisters and asked, “Xiao Ying, why don’t you want to be a star?”
“Her? Her dream is to help others, not become a star!” Xiao Ya answered quickly, clearly dismissing her sister’s ambition. Xiao Ying’s face turned slightly red, looking adorable. “What’s wrong with helping others?”
“Ah, I see!” Xiao Ran thought for a moment and suggested, “Actually, there’s nothing wrong with being a star. With status and influence, you can help more people. Do you understand? How about this—go home and talk to your parents. If they’re willing to discuss it with me, that would be great!”
The sisters nodded in agreement, especially Xiao Ya, who nodded vigorously. The only unhappy one was Xiao Han. Going back to discuss it with her parents meant seeking trouble.
When they went to Lin Qingxia’s house and explained the situation, Lin Qingxia immediately thought of that adorable girl and smiled. “If she really wants to, why not agree? It’s not difficult for you as her brother to make her famous. Besides, she already has the potential!”
Xiao Ran wasn’t against Xiao Han becoming a star, but he thought it wasn’t appropriate. Most importantly, he believed that at her age, Xiao Han should focus on acquiring knowledge rather than chasing star dreams.
“By the way, other companies have asked me to star in a movie called ‘Fatal Beauty’!” Lin Qingxia let Xiao Ran hold her hand, leaning slightly on his shoulder for comfort. “Do you want me to act in it?”

“Emotionally, I definitely don’t want to! Sometimes I’m quite conservative! But rationally, I think you shouldn’t take on this role right now—Phantom doesn’t have any projects suitable for you.” After laughing, Xiao Ran’s expression changed as he immediately remembered this film: “Show me the script first!”
Lin Qingxia reluctantly stood up and went to get the script for Xiao Ran to see. Of course, Xiao Ran knew this film was originally starring Lin Qingxia and Leung Ka-fai, but it was quite mediocre in quality and had poor box office performance.
After pretending to browse it for a while and thinking it over, he decided there was no need to take on this role at all: “I think I’d better not take it. This script doesn’t seem to have much potential—neither commercial enough nor artistically sufficient!”
“If you say you won’t take it, then I won’t!” Lin Qingxia agreed not because Xiao Ran was her boyfriend, but based on his evaluation of the script. No one in Hong Kong or even Southeast Asia dared doubt Xiao Ran’s screenwriting skills.
At the company, Xiao Ran frowned as he watched Wei Dongling, looking helpless, bring out a pile of scripts, forcing him to smile bitterly. Ever since he became Hong Kong’s top screenwriter, coupled with his speech at the Golden Horse Awards emphasizing the importance of screenwriters, and thanks to his role as the owner of a film company, many self-proclaimed talented screenwriters began sending their scripts to Phantom.
One of Xiao Ran’s tasks whenever he came to the company was to conduct the final review. The first round of review was done by Wei Ka-fai, who selected scripts with talent and potential before sending them to Xiao Ran.
“By the way, the box office for Prison Storm has already exceeded 15 million. When are we having the celebration party?” Wei Dongling asked while working. He had gotten used to talking while working—there was no choice, the office was too small. Wei Dongling was even worried he wouldn’t be able to adapt to a larger office in the future: “And the rewards and expenses are quite substantial!”
Xiao Ran nodded. Though Wei Dongling was a genius who managed the company efficiently, his vision was limited by the times, making it hard for him to realize how important talent was for the development of films.
He decided to talk to Wei Dongling about this later—mindset was crucial. Having made up his mind, he began to browse the scripts. Actually, what he needed to do was simple: if a certain script had a well-written scene, he could recruit the author to join Phantom’s writing team to work on that part. When he saw one of the scripts, he was shocked…
Xiao Ran rubbed his eyes in disbelief, making sure he wasn’t seeing things. It turned out he wasn’t nearsighted at all—the script in front of him was clearly that of Home Alone. Well, not exactly—the script only shared a similar concept with Home Alone; there weren’t many similarities in the plot.
What year was Home Alone released? Xiao Ran tried hard to remember, but it wasn’t easy for him. He knew Hong Kong films well, but not much about foreign films, so it was difficult for him to recall when those movies came out.

Fortunately, he remembered—it was a film released in 1990. Its appearance now only proved that this story was not plagiarized but original. After examining it carefully, he found that the story was no worse than “Home Alone,” just with a stronger Hong Kong flavor, and the plot was just as funny. Without hesitation, Xiao Ran sought out the author of this script—Tie Long, a truly bold name. After securing this screenwriter, Xiao Ran continued his work, knowing he was the “hand of God.” Finally, he reached the last script. Xiao Ran breathed a sigh of relief but also grew nervous. Wei Jiahui always preferred to keep the scripts he considered the best at the bottom to help Xiao Ran make a decision. This meant that anything chosen by Wei Jiahui couldn’t be too bad. However, he wasn’t quite sure why Wei Jiahui had placed the earlier script at the front—was it because he hadn’t seen the commercial potential? He quickly came to a conclusion: Hong Kong films generally didn’t pay much attention to children’s movies, let alone ones with children as the main characters. After flipping through the last script and just reading the beginning, Xiao Ran was immediately captivated. It was a science fiction-themed script, roughly about what happens to people after committing crimes in a future world. Yet Xiao Ran felt the sci-fi element wasn’t strong here; it resembled a police thriller set in a futuristic setting. The story was highly engaging, and Xiao Ran couldn’t take his eyes off it until he finished reading. The screenwriter was talented—the script’s strength lay in its passion, with many excellent lines and well-structured suspense. It was only after reading it that Xiao Ran realized it appeared to be science fiction on the surface but was actually a police thriller at its core, with a mystery element underneath. He was momentarily confused. However, the script had its weaknesses—terrible detail handling and excessive passion that led to logical flaws in many parts. Xiao Ran could tell at a glance that the author must be young. Even so, he felt today’s effort was worth it—after reviewing so many scripts, he had finally encountered two talents, one of whom might even be a genius. Xiao Ran began to think of himself as very wise, though sadly, no one was there to flatter him. “A Dong, stop working and talk to me!” Without realizing it, Xiao Ran’s tone gradually took on an irresistible authority. Seeing Wei Dongling look up at him in confusion, his tone shifted to concern: “A Dong, let me tell you a story. Listen carefully!” “Once upon a time, there was a place with many companies. One of them was the largest, while another was very small.” Lost in memory, Xiao Ran transformed the history of Hong Kong cinema into another story: “This small company grew slowly over time. Eventually, it attracted a large number of talents and grew rapidly, becoming the second-largest company in just ten years!”

Wei Dongling was extremely confused now; he simply had no idea what Xiao Ran was talking about. Xiao Ran rubbed his nose, feeling extremely depressed: “But when the company reached its peak, everyone realized something was wrong. Highly capable employees were poached by the largest companies, and the rest kept doing things that harmed themselves.”

“But that wasn’t the worst of it. The company’s directors didn’t value talent at all—there wasn’t even any talent reserve.” Xiao Ran gave a helpless smile. The history of Hong Kong cinema couldn’t be described so simply: “As a result, these talented people gradually left because they didn’t get proper treatment and were harmed by other mediocre employees, causing the company’s business to plummet.”

“To cut costs, the directors raised the salaries of a few well-known employees, hoping to attract business with them!” Xiao Ran almost blurted out ‘stars,’ but fortunately realized in time. “But they failed—the business still shrank. Yet they never thought of raising the salaries of those who truly drove the company’s development or giving them the freedom to do their jobs well.”

“As a result, these talented people became disappointed and left one after another. Gradually, the company’s business withered until it died. The reason was that the directors thought those talents weren’t worth higher salaries or enough freedom!”

Wei Dongling still didn’t quite understand, his confusion growing deeper. Xiao Ran sighed deeply, closing his eyes slightly as he said, “Don’t you think the situation of this company is very similar to Hong Kong cinema? Don’t you think we need to place more emphasis on talent?”

Realizing suddenly, Wei Dongling understood what Xiao Ran meant, but became even more confused. Xiao Ran’s thoughts wandered back twenty years, and he spoke in a dreamy tone: “Who had the highest value in Hong Kong? Hui Kwan-kit—1.5 million. And after ‘A Fairy Tale in Autumn’ was released, Chow Yun-fat’s value must have exceeded 1.2 million. Do you remember two years ago? Back then, Hui Kwan-kit was the highest-valued, at only 1 million.”

“You mean actors’ salaries are too high?” Wei Dongling’s expression changed drastically when he thought of something. “If you want to cut actors’ fees, that’s absolutely impossible. Otherwise, not many people will agree to it!”

“Of course not. An actor’s salary is determined by their value!” Xiao Ran opened his eyes and looked at the embarrassed Wei Dongling, laughing heartily. “What I mean is, don’t you think the salaries of behind-the-scenes staff are too low? Especially those at the lower levels. If they don’t have a lot of work, they might not even be able to support themselves!”

“It seems they’re already not low!” Wei Dongling quickly calculated in his mind and came up with this answer: “The salaries of the company’s behind-the-scenes staff are already quite high. Including bonuses, they’re even twice as much as those atJiahe!”

“Do you really think they’re high?” Xiao Ran asked back with a bitter smile. If even someone as forward-thinking as Wei Dongling saw it that way, no wonder the film industry was in such a sad state: “Now, the budget for a medium-sized film is four million. How much of that four million is spent on screenwriters? At most, it’s 100,000. What kind of ratio is that?”

“Within these four million, stars generally get one-fifth, or even one-quarter!” When mentioning this, Xiao Ran wasn’t convinced at all. The proportion of stars’ fees now is far less than it will be in the future—twenty years from now, it could even reach half. “Just think, how is that fair?”
Wei Dongling hung up the phone and instructed his secretary to bring in two cups of coffee before saying with a smile, “There’s no fairness. Stars are the main reason why audiences buy tickets to watch movies! So, it’s completely normal for them to get the bigger share!”
*****
Longxiang Film Company
This is a Taiwanese company that has cooperative relationships with companies like Deppa and New Art City. Everyone must remember that the name of this film company has appeared in the opening credits of many movies. Hehe, that’s because some films are funded by this company, which gives them the copyright. So… this company is quite powerful, I mean in terms of financial resources. But as for film production… well, everyone knows what Taiwanese movies are like! Hehe. Recommendation: Sima’s new movie, “Light Hunters” http://www.feiku.com/showbook.asp?bl_id=20582