Chapter 95: People’s Heroes

Xiao Ran completely agreed with this, but that didn’t mean he would let it happen unchecked. “OK, according to you, stars are the main draw for audiences. But if their salaries account for one-third or even one-half of the budget, the funds allocated to film production will surely shrink, and the quality of the film will suffer greatly. If it were you, would you still fall for it after being tricked once?”
“Well… no!” From the audience’s perspective, Wei Dongling paused for a moment before answering confidently, “But stars’ salaries can’t reach such proportions.”
Xiao Ran smiled. He knew Wei Dongling would answer that way. Even Zhang Yimou, when making wuxia films, didn’t spend all his money on actors; he still placed great emphasis on technical aspects. The same was true for Wang Jiawei—although he loved using stars, he wasn’t shy about investing heavily in technology either.
“That’s right! Stars’ salaries definitely can’t reach such proportions!” Xiao Ran nodded confidently with a smile. “And not only that—I even plan to set a rule: stars’ salaries must not exceed one-quarter of the total budget after deducting expenses like promotion costs, insurance, and legal fees.”
One-quarter was already a high proportion of the production budget. Although Hollywood has a saying: if the lead actor earns 20 million, the total investment should be at least 100 million. But this so-called 100 million usually includes promotion costs and other expenses.
“The key issue is that the people behind the scenes get too little money. The best cameramen only earn 80,000 per film.” Xiao Ran smiled before getting to the point: “Tell me, if you have to compensate in terms of quantity, how can you focus on quality? Don’t forget—our company’s foundation is quality. Our slogan is ‘Shadow Images, Creating Classics!’”
Wei Dongling was speechless. He suddenly understood what Xiao Ran meant by all his words and agreed with him. Seeing Wei Dongling’s expression, Xiao Ran smiled in satisfaction. He loved this sense of achievement from convincing others. “If we offer a cinematographer 200,000 per film and let them work on just one project a year, giving them enough space to showcase their skills, do you think they’d refuse?”
Wei Dongling had nothing to say. There were countless photographers in Hong Kong, and even famous ones might not be able to shoot many films a year. Precisely because they were highly paid, 99% of film companies ignored cinematography, preferring cheaper but less skilled photographers. 200,000 per film—surely anyone would agree to that, since many stars might not even earn that much.
“So, based on this, I think it’s necessary to improve the treatment of people behind the scenes.” Xiao Ran hesitated for a moment before saying through gritted teeth, “It’s worth increasing the film budget for this!”
“I agree. But I think script reviews must be strict!” Wei Dongling had nothing left to say. Xiao Ran had already laid out all the reasoning. If he still couldn’t see the benefits, he certainly didn’t deserve to be in that position.

After settling this matter, Wei Dongling suddenly remembered something and searched for a while before finding a notebook, which he handed to Xiao Ran. “This is the script delivered personally by Er Dongsheng. He hopes we’ll invest in this film!”
Er Dongsheng is an outstanding filmmaker. He was a very popular leading actor in his early days and started directing last year, with his debut film being the highly praised “The Madman’s Story.” He has won two Golden Horse Awards for Best Director and is indeed an excellent director.
However, Xiao Ran was puzzled. He knew well that Er Dongsheng had connections with Deppa. There was no reason for him to come to Meiying instead of seeking funding from Deppa. After looking at the script, he realized it was none other than “People’s Heroes,” and he was stunned.
“People’s Heroes” was Er Dongsheng’s second directing project, focusing on real-life society. The film had a good reputation, but poor box office performance, and it didn’t win any awards at the Golden Horse or Golden Mile Awards. Although Xiao Ran wanted to invest in this film, his company was still in its developmental stage and couldn’t afford losses.
Should he shoot it or not? Xiao Ran hesitated. But after just a brief pause, he made up his mind—yes, he would shoot it. Why not? Losing a few million could be a worthwhile investment if it meant getting someone like Er Dongsheng on board.
He immediately called to arrange a meeting place and time, then rushed there right away, instructing Wei Dongling to quickly recruit the two talented screenwriters he had just discovered. When he arrived at the bar, Er Dongsheng was already there. Upon seeing Xiao Ran, he greeted him with slight respect, “Boss Xiao, I’m here!”
Xiao Ran sat down, ordered a cup of coffee, and then organized his thoughts before saying, “I’ve read your script. It’s well-written!”
If anyone else had used such an old-fashioned tone, it would have been dismissed as pretentious. But Xiao Ran was the top screenwriter in Hong Kong. Er Dongsheng clearly recognized this, so he didn’t complain and instead earnestly hoped to hear Xiao Ran’s opinions.
It had to be admitted that Er Dongsheng was a thoughtful person who knew how to listen to others’ opinions. Xiao Ran silently praised him before pretending to be reluctant and saying, “But as you know, the chances of this film being a box office success are slim. I even think it might not cover its costs.”
Er Dongsheng smiled bitterly. “Deppa said the same thing. That’s why, after much thought, I realized the only one who could appreciate this script is you, the master hand!”
Historically, this film had indeed been produced by Deppa. But not anymore. Xiao Ran wasn’t surprised at all. History had already changed, and such a small change was nothing to worry about. After pondering for a moment, Xiao Ran tapped his fingers gently on the table, creating a rhythmic pattern that seemed almost magical, guiding the thoughts of those around him to follow its rhythm.
“This script is indeed good. It touches on some deep themes!” Xiao Ran realized his acting skills were getting better. He wondered if every businessman was like this: “I’m not doubting your ability, but I think this film isn’t easy to produce. If it could win an award, I’d be willing to invest. But given the odds, it’s unlikely to succeed, and the box office prospects are poor too. That’s where I’m stuck…”

Er Dongsheng was extremely disappointed. His friend advised him to show the script to the boss of Shadow, and if there was no positive response, it would be better to give up. But now it seemed that although he was appreciated, he still had to abandon the project. Though he was happy with Xiao Ran’s comments, that fact couldn’t be ignored.

Xiao Ran couldn’t stop sneering at the situation. He thought it was time to reveal his hand. Suddenly, he changed the subject and nodded, saying, “I’ve watched ‘The Madman’s Story.’ It’s very well made. I think you have enough potential. I believe you just lack some opportunities. I’ve decided to finance this film.”

He had just thrown Er Dongsheng from heaven to hell and then pulled him back up from hell. Er Dongsheng’s mood changed several times in an instant, and joy appeared on his face. “Really? That’s great! Thank you, Boss Xiao!”

“I always keep my word!” Xiao Ran smiled slightly. He wasn’t interested in correcting Er Dongsheng’s way of addressing him; everyone called him that, and he was used to it. “However, this film will definitely lose money. It might not even sell outside the region. So, I won’t set a high budget. Also, for the cast, I don’t think we need any celebrities. Consider it your personal experimental project. I hope you can find your own path through it!”

Seeing Xiao Ran’s sincere expression, Er Dongsheng was deeply moved. Initially, few people believed in him as a director. It was only because he used to be a star that he managed to get funding. Although ‘The Madman’s Story’ was successful, Er Dongsheng wasn’t satisfied. But he never expected a stranger he had just met to express admiration for him and even be willing to invest at a loss.

Actually, Xiao Ran had considered signing Er Dongsheng, but he knew better that Er Dongsheng wasn’t a high-output director, often taking years to make one film. Moreover, Er Dongsheng had a strange habit: unless he wrote the script himself or it was by a writer he trusted, he preferred not to direct.

The next day, in a restaurant, Xiao Ran was very happy. He had finally gotten his driver’s license. From now on, he wouldn’t have to rely on borrowing cars anymore, which was so embarrassing. After all, it was a long-standing joke in the film industry that the boss of a film company didn’t even own a car.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t because he wanted to uphold a hardworking and simple revolutionary style, but because he simply didn’t know how to drive. Before this, he had been too busy, saying, “I’m making hundreds of thousands per second—where would I find the time…?” At least thirty times. Only after most of his recent problems were solved and he no longer needed to interfere in company management did he find time to learn to drive.

He was so relaxed and happy that he felt like whistling to show just how great he felt, but the two young men in front of him were very nervous. Tielong was nervous, but the other polite young man with glasses was even more nervous.

Tielong was a lighting technician with little education. He wrote the script this time because he was inspired by Xiao Ran’s speech at the Golden Horse Awards. He wasn’t someone who didn’t strive for improvement; he wanted to be the best lighting technician, but the directors never gave him a chance to show himself.

After watching Xiao Ran’s speech on TV, Tie Long had some ideas. In fact, he usually had many ideas, but never got the chance to put them into practice. So, he spent a long time writing one of these ideas, which came to him after his son played with a mechanical device once.

Looking at him, Tie Long didn’t seem like a screenwriter; his tall, muscular build made him more like an action actor. But sometimes, one really can’t judge by appearance. Tie Long spent most of his time writing scripts, doing it in his spare moments as he had many other tasks to handle.

The young man wearing glasses was so nervous he could hardly breathe. If Xiao Ran hadn’t been smiling, but instead had a serious expression, he probably wouldn’t have been able to breathe at all. His name was Qiu Yu—a strange name. Despite his shy appearance, he was actually quite outgoing and passionate.

Qiu Yu was a student majoring in screenwriting at Baptist University. He had always believed in his own abilities, but after listening to Xiao Ran’s lecture last time, he was immediately impressed by him. Just the four words “novelty and ingenuity” mentioned by Xiao Ran filled him with admiration.

Now that he got to meet Xiao Ran, he felt extremely lucky. Even luckier was that Xiao Ran took a liking to his script. When he heard from Phantom Company, Qiu Yu felt as if he had won the lottery.

No matter how happy he was, Xiao Ran had no reason to ignore these two people. Originally, he didn’t need to come in person. But after thinking it over, he realized that both of their screenwriting skills still needed improvement, so it would be better for him to talk to them and give them some guidance.

“Both of you, I’ve read your scripts!” Xiao Ran cleared his throat softly and touched his nose to ease the discomfort. “I think you’re worth inviting. Are you interested in joining Phantom Company?”

“Of course!” Qiu Yu nodded vigorously, eager to declare his agreement with as much certainty as possible. But Tie Long wasn’t so quick to respond; he hesitated for a moment. “Boss Xiao, I was wondering about the compensation?”

Xiao Ran smiled slightly. Compensation, of course, needed to be discussed. After thinking it over, he decided that since these two weren’t yet mature screenwriters and would need time to develop, their pay would have to be lower. “Since you’re new to this field, the compensation won’t be very high. Before you complete training, the company won’t pay a monthly salary—only script fees! Of course, the script fees aren’t low—50,000 yuan per script! I assume you’re aware of that.”

Phantom Company had two ways of hiring screenwriters. The first was to bring them into the writing team, where they would work full-time on revising and improving scripts, with relatively high salaries. The second option was to pay only script fees, with no salary. Of course, those in the first category could also write their own scripts and still receive the same script fees and bonuses.

“No problem! It’s an honor for me!” Qiu Yu nodded vigorously, so hard that Xiao Ran worried his neck might break. Xiao Ran remembered this Qiu Yu as the screenwriter who had asked questions during his lecture at Baptist University. No wonder Xiao Ran’s style was evident throughout that script.

“Could I have some time to think about this?” Fifty thousand? Tie Long was certainly tempted, but as soon as the idea came to mind, he thought of another more profitable way. Xiao Ran shrugged, indicating no problem.
*****
Fictional name — Er Dongsheng
Real name — Er Dongsheng
Before becoming a director, Er Dongsheng was a very famous and popular star in Hong Kong, having acted in many films. However, he is one of the most successful actors to transition to behind the camera, having won two Golden Horse Awards for Best Director. Though he hasn’t directed many films, none of them have been failures, which speaks to his commitment to quality. His artistic romance film “New Tears in Heaven” earned over 30 million at a time when the film market was sluggish, which is truly remarkable. His films “Unforgettable” from a couple of years ago also performed well as artistic romances, and then there’s “Night in Mong Kok” — he is indeed a director worthy of respect.