Chapter 239: Reunion by the Sea

“Never mind, let’s not talk about it.” Xiao Ran felt a sense of melancholy. He had been thinking solely of Hong Kong and the mainland, but he never expected the mainland to be hindered by its censorship system, which was essentially forcing Hong Kong films to die. “You know, Chinese cinema needs Hong Kong films; otherwise, it will never be able to compete with Hollywood in the coming decades. And I can tell you without exaggeration that if there were no Hong Kong films to compete with Hollywood, American films would already have dominated the world!”
Huang Qun set aside his earlier concerns. After deciding to submit the report, he immediately frowned and said, “Xiao Ran, it’s not as serious as you say. I know Hong Kong films have a certain market globally, but it certainly isn’t at that scale.”
Xiao Ran smiled faintly. Not that serious? As someone who had experienced this before, he knew it was far more serious than imagined. If it weren’t for him seizing every aspect necessary for film production using his advantages, he would have lost by now.
Not to mention special effects—Dolby Laboratory’s AC-3 had already replaced AC-2. If not for Meifeng’s complete control and its efforts to train many talents through Dolby, it might not have been possible to compete with North American audio recording. Even with great special effects, without proper sound effects, it would still be no match.
Regarding special effects again, if Xiao Ran hadn’t used every trick in his arsenal and orchestrated a plan that lasted over a year, he would never have been able to recruit top modelers, makeup artists, and others. Without models, special effects would be nothing but laughable light and shadow effects; without makeup artists, the monsters in the *Alien* series and the dinosaurs in *Jurassic Park* could never have looked so realistic.
It was only with those top talents, along with the students Xiao Ran carefully selected to train, and after another two or three years, that Chinese cinema could begin to establish its own talent system. Otherwise, what had Xiao Ran been doing in the previous years? He wasn’t just preparing to dominate Asia—he was also preparing for future battles with Hollywood.
And all of this was achieved only because Xiao Ran was familiar with and proficient in film production, and he had advantages that no one else could match. Don’t think he cared about his wealth—he didn’t care at all. Entering other industries was not only an inevitable path for corporate development but also necessary to provide funding for film production. With sufficient funds and technical strength, a complete ecosystem for film production and technology support could be created.
“Yang Guang, drive!” Xiao Ran instructed Yang Guang before slowly turning to stare at Huang Qun. “This situation is a hundred times more dangerous than you imagine. Once Hollywood takes the lead, it will be very difficult for us to catch up in terms of technology and talent. Right now, only Hong Kong films have the technology and talent to compete. If Chinese cinema wants to rise, it must have Hong Kong films as its banner.”

Huang Qun was in a state of turmoil. Emotionally, he had made significant progress thanks to Xiao Ran’s advice, which allowed him to rise so quickly to the position of vice minister of the Culture Ministry. And now he was also Xiao Ling’er’s godfather, so emotionally he was definitely inclined toward Xiao Ran. Yet rationally, he knew well that the government was unlikely to compromise. It seemed this might end up being a lose-lose situation…

After Huang Qun left, it was hard to describe Xiao Ran’s feelings. He fully understood that the central government had made considerable concessions for the film and culture industries, especially in terms of legal support against piracy, which was enough proof of that. But it still wasn’t enough, wasn’t it?

During this time, Xiao Ran put aside everything and focused on the post-production of “Jurassic Park.” This film was a top priority for Shadow Pictures that year, and no one dared take it lightly. Infinite Vision also assigned its best experts to handle the special effects, with Zhong Zhihang and another special effects director from Infinite Vision participating in the production.

As for sound effects, Xiao Ran remained as demanding as ever. This time, Xiang Bao was in charge of the sound design, but he had a huge team at his disposal. Since Xiao Ran demanded everything to be realistic or lifelike, they had to collect various sound effects available.

Actually, Xiao Ran wasn’t a director and didn’t need to get involved. But he couldn’t help worrying, so he came to guide things personally without interfering with the director’s vision. This was the rule set by Shadow Pictures—the director was the most important person on set. Meanwhile, Wei Dongling was busy working, while the mainland was busy discussing Xiao Ran’s conditions to finalize a draft as soon as possible.

July 1st was a very important day on the mainland, but Xiao Ran and his team paid it no attention. After watching some porn, they invited some friends from the industry and went to the beach for a barbecue. By the sea, Xiao Ran waved at Fa Ge, who was catching crabs: “Fa Ge, aren’t you just bored? Why go catch crabs? What crabs can you even catch now?”

Fa Ge laughed, washed his hands, then pulled his wife over to Xiao Ran and the others, taking a deep breath of the fresh sea breeze. “I like this life more and more. Shoot one or two movies a year, and then have plenty of time to relax!”

Xing Zi looked at Fa Ge with envy and sighed, “Fa Ge, we can’t compare to you. We have to take on two or three movies a year; otherwise, our income will be low!”

Before Xiao Ran could speak, Lin Qingxia started teasing him, “Xing Zi, aren’t you talking nonsense? How much did you get for that ad you did last time? At least five million. You can do at least two ads a year— isn’t that enough?”

Lin Qingxia was right. In every way, these celebrities weren’t at a disadvantage. They might take on fewer movies, but their fees were much higher, and so were their ad earnings. This was something only those in the industry knew—usually, celebrities were willing to take less money in reality but claimed higher fees publicly, so that they could reach that amount when taking on ads later.

Take Fa Ge as an example; his current advertising fee is at least 15 million, and usually it exceeds 20 million. If he wants to raise the price, he might privately charge 15 million but claim 20 million or more publicly, making subsequent price increases seem reasonable. So, it’s not unusual for these top stars to earn tens of millions in advertising income each year.

Liu Hua deliberately sniffed a chicken wing before sighing deeply, “It’s sad that I’m around the same age as Ran Ge, yet our wealth and fame differ so much! But I think if Ran Ge were to act in another movie, it would definitely be a huge success!”

Xiao Ran smiled slightly, handed a roasted chicken wing to Lin Qingxia, and then said with a laugh, “If I acted again, Fa Ge wouldn’t be Asia’s top male star. But I know I’m not cut out for acting; I’m already very satisfied if I can win an award as best actor! I don’t dare hope to achieve three championships like Fa Ge!”

“Ran Ge, when will you give me a role? I really want to be best actor once!” Liu Hua stared at Xiao Ran eagerly, wishing he would agree right away. The others also looked at Xiao Ran with great anticipation, clearly eager to win an award as best actor.

Xiao Ran burst into laughter. Sometimes he felt he and Lin Qingxia were truly lucky to have won best actor and best actress awards at the Golden Horse Awards simultaneously. Among these guys, aside from Fa Ge, Zhang Guorong, and Su Renyao, none had won best actor, though Wu Zhenyu had won an award for supporting role in “The Legend of the Car God.”

Lin Qingxia couldn’t help but laugh too. Xiao Ran gave a playful smile and said, “This has nothing to do with getting roles, right? You all seem to often take on artistic movies—why can’t you win awards? First, there are so many strong competitors, and second, your acting skills aren’t good enough. You need to look for reasons within yourselves!”

Even the lazy Liang Chaowei couldn’t help complaining to Xiao Ran, “It doesn’t mean we’re necessarily worse than others—why can’t we win awards?”

“Luck. It’s a matter of luck!” Xiao Ran smiled mysteriously. In fact, Liang Chaowei had almost won an award the year before last, but it was Xiao Ran who used his influence to affect the outcome.

Many of the judges for the Hong Kong Golden Horse Awards are from the industry, and they all have to deal with people within the industry to some extent. So, if you have connections, it’s much easier to get votes. Conversely, if you’re not popular—like Du Qifeng, who has always had a reputation for offending people—then you won’t win awards, even affecting those from Galaxy Pictures.

If Hong Kong movies hadn’t been so weak, allowing Du to dominate and needing him and Galaxy Pictures to support the film industry, “Gunfire” and “PTU” might not have won awards. So, once the market improved, Du had little chance of winning any awards.

For giants like Phantom, it’s not difficult to indirectly influence the results of the Golden Horse Awards. Xiao Ran didn’t want Liang Chaowei and the others to lose their goals so quickly, so he deliberately influenced the outcome that year.

In fact, thanks to ATV’s relentless promotion, the Golden Horse Awards are now undoubtedly the biggest film award in Asia. The Hong Kong Film Festival also got off to a smooth start with the sponsorship of the Shadow Industries group, showing considerable strength right from its first year.

Xiao Ran couldn’t guarantee that Japanese, Korean, or Western actors were eager to win this award, but he was certain that any Chinese actor would be very desirous of it. After all, winning this award each year was proof of one’s talent, and it would surely boost their value significantly. Many unknown actors later rose to fame through the Golden Horse Awards and became top stars.

Liu Hua’s desire to win an award was something Xiao Ran had anticipated—this young man always strived to do his best. It had to be admitted that he kept trying; his previously founded Sky Cinema Company had gone bankrupt due to repeated failures in investing in art films. When Sky Cinema was restarted, Liu Hua continued to invest in art films, with “Made in Hong Kong” being one of their projects. Xiao Ran remembered that in 2005, Liu Hua invested in six films, all directed by newcomers. “Sister-in-law” was one of his funded films, and he even invested in the director of “Shaolin Soccer.”

Liu Hua’s desire to win an award was known throughout the world, as was Zhou Xingchi’s. What Xiao Ran remembered most clearly was “The Secret Agent in the Palace,” where Zhou deliberately included a scene where an award was presented. It was less a joke about the Golden Horse Awards and more a self-deprecating expression of his own frustration, with his desire to win an award also subtly evident.

Liu Qingyun and Wu Zhenyu certainly wanted to win awards too, especially the latter, who was nominated twice at the peak of his career but lost both times to Liu Hua—so it goes without saying he was upset. Liu Qingyun’s situation was even more tragic; one of the three great actors whose acting was widely recognized, he was nominated six times, yet…

Of course, if we talk about the most tragic case, it’s Cheng Long. In Xiao Ran’s memory, Cheng Long was nominated twelve or thirteen times but never won once—this wasn’t just tragic; it was downright cruel mockery. The only bright spot was that “The Heart of a Dragon” helped Cheng Long regain some face at the Golden Melody Awards.

All that was part of history; it’s impossible for Cheng Long to get nominated that many times now. Seriously, it’s not easy to get nominated for the Golden Horse Awards these days. Even Lu Liangwei, who performed so well in “The Broken Hero,” failed to make it to the 12th Golden Horse Awards.

Smiling as he glanced at everyone, Xiao Ran suddenly said, “I might have a new film coming up. Who among you wants to star in it? Let me make it clear right away—this is a low-budget project.”

Everyone was shocked. Acting in Xiao Ran’s film meant embarking on a path to fame. Not to mention previous projects—“The Legend of the Car God” quickly made Wu Zhenyu a top-tier actor, while Jin Chengwu and Xiao Han became extremely popular.

However, it had been a long time since Xiao Ran had a new film. After “The Legend of the Car God,” he had been busy taking care of his wife and balancing the expansion and stability of Shadow Industries. Even Lin Qingxia was surprised: “You’re making a film? How come I didn’t know?”

Xiao Ran laughed hip-hop-style and waved his hand, saying, “It’s an idea I just came up with recently. I’ve already submitted it to the planning department. If they approve it, we can start filming anytime!”
Don’t think just because Xiao Ran is the boss he doesn’t need to follow procedures. Even when starting a project, he has to go through the planning department to determine whether it’s worth pursuing. If he submits a script, it needs to be reviewed or revised; if it’s an idea, a screenwriter needs to be hired.
If approved, the planning department will immediately send a producer to discuss the concept with the director, determine what concepts are needed for preliminary preparations, and finalize the list of cast and crew. This list also requires approval from the planning department. After all, they need to ensure the film becomes a box office hit or wins an award, and the casting is very important.
“However, what I need aren’t lead actors, but supporting roles,” Xiao Ran said with a strange smile. His new project doesn’t have a male lead. “You’ll need to think carefully!”
Everyone burst into laughter. Liu Qingyun laughed so hard she could hardly breathe, and Zhang Manyu also let out her familiar laugh. Xiao Ran was confused for a moment before realizing he had said something silly. Even without considering his status, just in terms of personal connections, it wouldn’t be a problem for him to have a dozen top-tier actors make cameo appearances, let alone as supporting roles.
The actors Xiao Ran wanted weren’t Liu Hua and Liang Chaowei—since they were good-looking, there were basically no issues with them. He wanted Wu Zhenyu and Liu Qingyun as the two main supporting characters. The reason was simple: he wanted to cultivate actors who had both box office appeal and recognized acting skills. As for box office appeal, the two indeed had that, but their acting skills hadn’t been proven yet.
Just then, the mobile phone in Yang Guang’s hand rang. He answered it briefly before passing it to Xiao Ran. Xiao Ran took it without understanding, and a depressed voice from Wei Dongling came through…