Chapter 103: The World Needs to Roam

Next, Liu Tianxian stayed with the crew for several days and gave Yu Xian an overview of the filming model here in the United States.

First, plan the blocking, lighting, and rehearsals; only then comes the actual shooting.

The actors here don't have much time to waste—you must do as much prep work as possible in advance.

With her explanation, Yu Xian understood much more and became far more cautious, carefully reading every clause of the contract, no longer acting as recklessly as before.

This is a necessary process any outsider must go through; no one can claim to understand better than the locals.

During filming, Yu Xian compressed the number of shots without limit—where ten or twenty takes were originally planned, he tried to get it done in just one or two.

Because much of the work had been prepared in advance, and the baby's scenes weren't numerous.

When shooting began, they only needed to keep the filming time within six hours.

With this, the filming of Annabelle also entered the fast lane.

While filming was ongoing, Liu Tianxian accompanied Fang Hong back to the law firm to inquire about copyright status.

Yu Xian was too inexperienced; Liu Tianxian was better at it.

In an office, Liu Tianxian and Fang Hong sat together; across the desk, the main seat was occupied by a white male lawyer.

Liu Tianxian crossed her legs and looked down at the thick copyright book in her hands; the top page was a table, equivalent to a table of contents.

Seeing the dense list of thousands of copyright entries beneath the table of contents, her phoenix eyes widened slightly.

These were the results of Fang Hong and Yu Xian's work over the past year, spending every day in a tiny hotel room doing things that cut off others' paths.

This was also why the two were so poor back then—all their money had gone into registering copyrights, and Yu Xian had contributed his share.

"This is way too much!" Liu Tianxian said, picking a random copyright book from further down the list based on the table of contents.

The copyright information showed Inside Out.

It was an animation concept with a script; the copyright document contained detailed information: registration year, copyright number, owner's name, disclaimers, and more.

Although it was in English, Liu Tianxian understood it all!

The animation Inside Out was only released in 2015; in her past life, it took years to develop, likely beginning around this year.

Even now, it was only a vague concept—Fang Hong had directly clarified the concept and registered the copyright.

That meant no one else could make this animation; only he could make it in the future.

"Not much—there will be more later," Fang Hong said.

"Why register so many copyrights? Is it useful?" Liu Tianxian glanced at him and flipped through other copyright certificates.

The types included concept art, scripts—anything related to the content, except novels.

Who in their right mind writes novels?

"It's useful—very useful. You don't understand. Help me check if any conflict with existing ones, and resolve conflicts as soon as possible," Fang Hong didn't explain much to her.

"Fine!"

Liu Tianxian turned to the white male lawyer across from them and spoke a stream of "jī lǐ guā lā."

The white male lawyer gave her a detailed explanation.

Their conversation lasted a long time; Fang Hong could only sit beside them, listening to gibberish.

After a while, Liu Tianxian told him: "He says all copyrights are valid and legitimate, but some have conflicts—though they're vague, with unclear differences."

The meaning was simple: for example, a script—Fang Hong wrote his version as a finished product, but someone else's script was written piecemeal, revised day by day, creating similarities, yet the similarities were subtle.

The same applied to concept art—much of the content was developed gradually, drawn slowly, and redone repeatedly.

But Fang Hong didn't need that—he produced finished work directly, so others' creations might unintentionally overlap with his in certain elements.

Then he could demand they cease infringement!

Because Fang Hong's version was complete and unmodified, while theirs was incomplete—but they would naturally drift toward Fang Hong's finished product due to habit.

This constituted infringement and was not permitted.

If similarity is too high, the one who registered first gets priority.

"Then ask him to focus on The Conjuring—check if this script and artwork conflict with anything," Fang Hong said.

This film is set to start shooting by the end of this year; he registered it in early last year.

Liu Tianxian found The Conjuring copyright certificate using the table of contents, leaned forward, pointed to the details on the certificate, and communicated with the lawyer.

The lawyer nodded, checked on his laptop, then spoke a long string of English.

Liu Tianxian told Fang Hong: "He says this story resembles one called The Warren Files."

The Warren Files?

Fang Hong lowered his head in thought, recalling that in his past life, The Conjuring was originally called The Warren Files, adapted from real events.

It was only after the movie was completed that the title was changed to The Conjuring!

That meant the name The Conjuring didn't exist yet, but the content had many similarities.

After all, this film's script went through multiple revisions—even after being bought by the studio, it was still being modified.

Fang Hong had registered his finished version in early last year; if nothing unexpected happened, their revisions were likely moving toward his version.

"Then tell him—can we prohibit their infringement?" Fang Hong said.

"It's complicated—they registered first, you registered later. You must wait for review and search before filing an infringement lawsuit—it's a full process," Liu Tianxian didn't ask; she told him directly.

Meaning: determine how much content overlaps and who copied whom.

"Fine—then help me resolve all conflicting copyrights and eliminate all plagiarism," Fang Hong said.

The workload wasn't large—there weren't many conflicting copyrights, because Fang Hong copied works years apart, sometimes even longer.

He mostly copied original content, rarely touched existing IPs, and even when he did, the connection to prior works was minimal.

For example, Top Gun: Maverick had little to do with its predecessor.

Rogue One also had little connection to its predecessor—it was essentially a standalone story.

Are there any like The Conjuring script, written over many years?

Liu Tianxian communicated with the lawyer, who accepted the copyright commission; Fang Hong paid the fee, and the two left the office.

As for the thick copyright contract, Fang Hong stored it like a treasure—it was his wealth, worth several billion.

The unit is Dao!

The two walked side by side down the street; Liu Tianxian was curious: "You know nothing—how did you even end up in the United States?" "You hadn't even graduated, and you didn't know anything either—how did you storm into the entertainment industry?" Fang Hong shot back.

"That's not the same as me—I had my mom protecting me back then. What did you have?" Liu Tianxian said.

"I had you!"

The moment Fang Hong spoke those words, Liu Tianxian hit him, giving him a glare.

You're always joking when you're supposed to be serious.

"The world demands you venture out—you'll never understand its twists and turns unless you go through them, unless you make mistakes and learn to grow, to understand how society operates," Fang Hong said.

Liu Tianxian nodded lightly, understanding him—there's no such thing as perfect preparation; ordinary people all plunge into the tide of the times unprepared.

Some have backings; some don't.

Those without must adapt and survive on their own; those with backings are carried forward by them.

She was carried forward—and even so, she still made mistakes, still faced setbacks.

In truth, even without her, Fang Hong could have resolved the matter after going through it himself—he'd already planned to contact CAA to switch personnel.

After a few more communications, after experiencing it once or twice, Fang Hong and Yu Xian would have discovered the issues themselves.

The terms were there; CAA's services were still there.

Liu Tianxian's intrusion merely accelerated the process of "understanding."

Next, the commissioned lawyer proceeded methodically, sending cease-and-desist letters to companies or individuals showing signs of infringement.

Among them, Riot Games was the most severely infringing company, as many of their hero designs overlapped with Fang Hong's concept art, forcing them to alter their creative direction.

Whether League of Legends is still League of Legends remains unknown.

But it's definitely going to lose its flavor!

Copyright law is strict in this country, and Ouzhou is strict too—that's why these two regions have the most intellectual property filings.

If infringement exists, it's banned; if profit is gained, compensation is required—no room for argument.

If you don't follow copyright rules, and others don't either, the biggest losers are the Western countries—their cultural products sell globally.

Just wait and see how The Conjuring controversy plays out!

That night, Fang Hong and Yu Xian were working on the post-production of Annabelle; it was a rented film post-production studio, arranged by CAA.

They handled the post-production themselves, because the original crew had only shot six hours—too idle—so to save money, they took over the editing themselves.

They never expected they'd shoot twelve hours; doing post-production afterward was exhausting, and they ended up working all night.

Of course, voice acting was done by others—this film required no Best Special Effects; it was all practical shooting.

Three monitors showed Yu Xian operating the computer to edit, while Fang Hong watched behind him and gave guidance.

Liu Tianxian sat beside Fang Hong, propping her chin on one hand, yawning.

This was her first time experiencing an all-night post-production session with Fang Hong; she'd heard Bao Jinjin describe it before, but hadn't felt it deeply—now, experiencing it firsthand, she found it exhausting, dull, and tedious.

Fang Hong noticed Liu Tianxian's eyes blinking drowsily and tapped Yu Xian's shoulder, gesturing toward the side.

Yu Xian glanced over and gave a silent "OK" gesture.

"Roar!"

A demonic roar suddenly erupted in the editing room; on the monitor beside Liu Tianxian, a grotesque spirit appeared abruptly.

Liu Tianxian was startled, lost her balance, and cried out, "Ah!" as she teetered.

Fang Hong reacted instantly, catching her and asking anxiously: "Are you alright?"

"What the hell are you filming? You nearly scared me to death!"

Liu Tianxian patted her chest, feeling as if her courage had been ripped out—her mind was suddenly wide awake.

Just now, the female lead had been chased through a dark hallway, and when lightning flashed, a grotesque monster suddenly appeared.

And it appeared right on the screen beside her.

When she was on set, she hadn't noticed anything frightening—but now, seeing it in post-production, it felt terrifying.

"Aren't you the one who loves horror movies? This scared you?" Fang Hong held back a laugh.

Yu Xian, facing away, clenched his lips, trying hard not to laugh.

"I watch horror movies with the sound off—you scared me with that sudden jump scare!" Liu Tianxian was speechless.

"It's fine, it's fine—I'm here! I'll protect you!"

Fang Hong whispered soothingly, wrapping his arm around her and gently stroking her back, his movements tender.

They were close; Liu Tianxian leaned slightly against him—she really had been frightened and needed a sense of safety.

Besides, she wasn't particularly averse to Fang Hong's closeness now—after all, they'd kissed before; what could be closer than that?

If she knew he'd done it on purpose, she'd probably beat him up.

Yu Xian, witnessing this, instantly regretted it—he should never have done this.

Eating dog food again!

But remembering how his brother had been scolded like a dog, he let it go.

The space fell silent again, save for faint breathing and the soft tapping of mouse and keyboard.

Liu Tianxian was no longer sleepy—she'd been startled awake—and now sat quietly, lost in thought.

Fang Hong kicked Yu Xian under the table and repeated the trick.

Yu Xian suddenly understood how Liu Tianxian had been tricked into his arms—he was clearly using this tactic to seduce young girls.

Damn, a scumbag!

"May God have mercy on you!"

That voice was as if it came from hell!

The monitor beside Liu Tianxian flickered, and a priest with a hideous face appeared, terrifying like a demon.

The effect was excellent; Fang Hong imagined Liu Tianxian would snuggle into his arms like a little woman, acting coy and begging for his protection.

Thinking of this, he lowered his head to look at Liu Tianxian.

Yet Liu Tianxian showed none of the fearful expression he had expected; instead, her eyes slowly narrowed, looking increasingly dangerous.

The two locked eyes for a moment, and Fang Hong got up and ran!

"Your little trick is so childish—did you really think I wouldn't know?" Liu Tianxian rose and gave chase, beating him until he ran all over the house.

Yu Xian, however, burst out laughing with a "haha"—his heart felt thoroughly satisfied now.

(End of this chapter)