Chapter 112: Dumb and Clumsy (Please Vote, Please Reward)

Liu Tianxian acted on impulse, not one for pretense, and dialed Fang Hong's phone directly.

"Hey, what are you up to?"

"I'm preparing to return to China. What about you?" Fang Hong asked in return.

They were on opposite sides of the day—Liu Tianxian's side was night, Fang Hong's was day.

"Me? I just got back from doing propaganda in South Korea, and I took on a game ad for A Chinese Ghost Story. Let me tell you, the makeup I wore for that ad was utterly bizarre."

Liu Tianxian spoke of her recent activities.

Her tone wasn't as heavy as expected, as if unaffected by the recent storm.

She'd been criticized before—so what?

Fang Hong listened quietly, then said: "Send me all those photos. I want to take a look."

"You haven't seen enough of me in person yet? What's so interesting about photos?" Liu Tianxian said.

"I haven't seen enough. I'm your fan too—I need your pictures to satisfy my spiritual needs."

Fang Hong joked, as if he were driving.

But he was too cryptic—Liu Tianxian didn't understand: "Don't give me that. I don't believe you're my fan."

A fan is someone who admires, obsesses, and gets carried away—but this man was always lucid around her.

"Then what should I be to you?" Fang Hong asked with a smile.

Liu Tianxian genuinely thought it over, then murmured: "A girl friend. A male girl friend."

"That won't do. A male girl friend doesn't meet my goal," Fang Hong said.

This time Liu Tianxian understood. She replied: "Then you should look at yourself—see if you've truly worked hard all these years."

"I've worked hard enough. The truth is, I'm just bad at it. If you're bad, you practice more," Fang Hong self-criticized.

"Gigglegigglegiggle."

Liu Tianxian burst out laughing at him.

They chatted merrily on the phone; Liu Tianxian suddenly felt much lighter, less burdened.

The public opinion no longer affected her much—only made her reflect on her own insufficient abilities.

Liu Tianxian began to speak from the heart: "Fang Hong, I feel my abilities are always lacking. I want to do well, but I keep failing. I don't even know how to do it right."

She doubted herself—she was lost.

"No one's success comes overnight. Mine didn't either. You must go through things to grow. Take it slow—don't rush!"

Fang Hong knew she was troubled by A Chinese Ghost Story.

That movie really was terrible in every way.

"I understand what you mean, but I've tried hard and still can't break through people's fixed image of me. I feel useless," Liu Tianxian said, gloomy.

She wanted to shatter her own filter.

Fang Hong didn't know how to respond—he opposed her shattering the filter, because that meant kissing scenes, nudity.

But he couldn't strongly oppose it, since it was her dream, something she'd been striving for.

"I've said before—if you deeply study your role and have someone guide you, you won't be worse than anyone else. You can grow gradually. Past projects have already proven this," Fang Hong urged.

Liu Tianxian recalled: her two previous films had received little criticism—but that was because the entire team served her.

The screenwriter served her, the crew served her, and director Fang Hong guided her throughout—so she could perform well.

"Yes, you're right. I'm no worse than anyone else."

Liu Tianxian took a breath, trying to adopt Fang Hong's self-confidence.

That night they talked a lot. Liu Tianxian wasn't troubled by it long—she felt pain when mentioning it, but the desire to break through, to shatter the filter, remained.

In a café, Fang Hong met someone named Yao Qi, a top-tier visual effects artist.

He worked and studied in Los Angeles and had previously created effects for major films like 2012, The Matrix Reloaded, and Catwoman.

His experience was extremely rich—he could immediately lead a team.

They'd spoken indirectly a few times before; now Fang Hong was leaving soon and had no time—he wanted to lure him back to China.

The waiter placed two cups of coffee. Fang Hong gestured for him to drink, then said: "Mr. Yao, where are you currently employed?"

"I'm in the Special Effects Management Department at Sony Graphics and Image Operations," Yao Qi sipped his coffee and replied.

He was quite handsome, somewhat resembling Xia Yu.

"Mr. Yao, I'll be blunt—I'm about to return to China and have little time left," Fang Hong got straight to the point.

Yao Qi nodded, signaling him to continue.

"Come work for my company on special effects. I'll offer you a million-yuan annual salary—this is the minimum. There will also be bonuses, and more may follow depending on performance," Fang Hong said bluntly.

Yao Qi's eyes widened slightly—this surpassed his Sony salary, where the maximum was only 800,000 yuan.

That's a range of 600,000 to 800,000 yuan—RMB!

"I just wonder about the scale of your company, Director Fang?"

"It's a small company, still developing. The fact I can offer you this salary means I intend to grow big. For now, you'll definitely have to work hard leading the team," Fang Hong made his meaning clear.

He'd be the head of the special effects department.

Yao Qi lowered his head, thinking, then voiced his concern: "To be honest, Director Fang, China's market still doesn't support high-end effects. If this isn't sustainable, I'd rather not go—I want stability."

He wanted to stay long-term in one place with a steady job, not keep switching employers.

What if you quit after one or two years? Then I'd have to find another job again.

"Here's what I'll do."

Fang Hong thought for a moment: "If you come, I'll give you an extra one million yuan as a relocation allowance—this covers your risk cost."

"But I'm clear upfront: you'll only receive this money after you've worked for my company for one full year. So in total, with salary, bonuses, and relocation, you'll earn over two million."

He spoke with genuine sincerity. Yao Qi understood—he was being cautious, in case Yao Qi joined for two days, collected the money, and vanished.

"Alright, since General Manager Fang is so sincere, I won't be petty anymore. Once I've settled my affairs here, I'll come to China to find you." Yao Qi nodded without hesitation.

Two million yuan—that's several years' salary for him. The cost of this trial was sufficient.

Previously, I hesitated because I'd finally stabilized in Hollywood; returning to the mainland to waste a few years would hurt me badly.

But as long as the money's enough, no problem is a problem—that's capital. It can directly crush a person's resolve.

The two reached an agreement and shook hands.

The affairs in the United States are basically finished. Yu Xian just needs to follow the plan and shoot The Purge.

He's already familiar with the procedures here; as long as he doesn't make major mistakes, it'll be fine.

Annabelle will be released normally.

Fang Hong gave him $200,000 to rent a house and settle down here.

This trip to the United States, Fang Hong brought $7 million. He spent $6.5 million on filming and another $200,000–$300,000 on food, lodging, lawyers, and all sorts of miscellaneous expenses.

The remaining $200,000? He gave it all to him!

"Without you, I feel like I'm standing alone on a single log." Yu Xian felt lost.

If this were the mainland, it'd be fine—but overseas, he's truly a stranger in a strange land, everything feels alien.

Fang Hong grabbed the back of his neck, leaned close, and stared at him with sharp eyes: "From now on, you're the man in charge in the United States. Work hard. Don't let me down."

Looking into Fang Hong's eyes, Yu Xian felt infected by his conviction and nodded firmly.

"There's one thing I need you to do here—keep an eye out for animators, especially those with production capabilities. Collect their information and send it to me." Fang Hong instructed.

Animators in the mainland aren't bad, but I need animators who align with Western aesthetic sensibilities—to make animations for foreigners.

The most profitable part of animation is still overseas, still merchandise. The domestic market for merchandise is a complete mess—has been for years, no future!

Yu Xian understood. He'd worked with Fang Hong for so long, coloring his drawings every day—he knew Fang had stacks of artwork.

He'd once asked Fang Hong why he drew so much, and Fang said he planned to turn them into animations.

Back then, he thought it was unrealistic. Now, it's unfolding step by step.

"Let's go!"

The two bumped fists. From now on, all U. S. operations were handed over to Yu Xian.

Don't be fooled by Rabbit U. S. —it looks like nothing, just an empty shell—but all rights to films shot in the United States belong to this company.

The Conjuring series, Fifty Shades of Grey series, The Purge series, plus many other original copyrights—all have been transferred to this company.

In short, once Rabbit U. S. breaks through, its growth potential will be faster and more terrifying than Rabbit China's.

Because the market is huge, copyright systems are strict, and distribution channels are limitless—something the domestic content market can't match.

But he only sees this place as a blood transfusion station—to support his industrial layout.

Without this blood transfusion station, the layout can't be completed!

In early May, Fang Hong's flight didn't return to Beijing—he went straight to Hong Kong to shoot The Wandering Earth!

After two months in the United States, stepping back onto mainland soil and seeing nothing but East Asians and Chinese advertisements everywhere, he felt a sudden sense of familiarity.

Overseas, everyone on the street is white or Black; the ads and signs are all in English—it feels alien.

Since Fang Hong's films have never been released in Hong Kong, the locals don't know him.

Even if they had been released, he still wouldn't be known—fame comes from propaganda, not one or two films.

Without propaganda, the buzz fades and people forget who you are. Movies don't make people famous.

Have Zheng Yijian cut his hair and walk down a street in Neidi—see how many people recognize him.

Beijing Meets Seattle has already finished shooting and entered post-production, so the team can move over to shoot The Wandering Earth!

The cinematographer, art director, and all the behind-the-scenes crew are exhausted—they finished one job and immediately started another.

However, Rabbit's production team must expand—to ensure we can open multiple films simultaneously.

Also, cultivate a high-quality, scalable team capable of making big-budget films!

Constantly making low-budget films isn't right. We must make well-produced films to avoid being controlled by others.

But making well-produced films requires not just talent, but equipment. Once Annabelle is released and generates revenue, we'll order a batch of professional filming gear from the United States.

"Hey!"

Liu Tianxian threw her arms around Fang Hong's neck like a brother—completely unreserved.

She's the female lead of The Wandering Earth and is based in the mainland, so she arrived in Hong Kong ahead of time to pick him up.

A Chinese Ghost Story has been in theaters for over half a month—her propaganda duties are done.

As for box office numbers? None of her concern!

Hong Kong International Airport is on Lantau Island—a remote place. The two had already left the terminal and were walking along the deserted airport road.

Fang Hong turned to look at Liu Tianxian's face—her Skin smooth, wearing large sunglasses, long hair flowing beautifully.

Because they were so close, he could clearly see her lips were chapped again!

Fang Hong's face was cold: "Why so affectionate? Do I know you that well?"

"Are you looking for a beating?" Liu Tianxian's smile vanished instantly.

"I'm just joking. Don't take it so seriously."

Fang Hong smiled ingratiatingly.

Liu Tianxian rolled her eyes—wasn't she uncomfortable unless she scolded him?

"Hey, your lips are chapped again. Let me peel them off for you." Fang Hong looked closely and raised his hand.

"No, I'll do it myself!"

Liu Tianxian slapped his hand away and peeled it herself.

"Peeling them like that won't work—you need a boyfriend to moisturize them." Fang Hong spoke seriously.

"Who? You?" Liu Tianxian looked at him.

Since she was wearing sunglasses, Fang Hong couldn't see her expression: "Fine, I can reluctantly take on this role."

"Good, give me a kiss." Liu Tianxian pouted.

Her openness made Fang Hong feel uneasy.

But following the principle of not kissing if you don't get to kiss, he leaned in to kiss her.

"Slap!"

Just as they were about to get close, Liu Tianxian slapped him across the face: "You're so full of yourself."

The slap wasn't hard—just a light push.

"I knew you weren't that kind. Turns out our feelings really have faded," Fang Hong said, deeply disappointed and heartbroken.

Seeing his expression, Liu Tianxian found it amusing. She leaned in and gave his cheek a loud "smack": "Faded?"

Fang Hong was stunned, touching the spot she'd kissed—he never expected Liu Tianxian to be so forward.

But he quickly recovered: "It's faded. Do it again. Give me a proper kiss."

"Then stick your lips out!" Liu Tianxian said.

Fang Hong pouted his lips high, waiting to be kissed.

Liu Tianxian pecked his lips with her finger: "You're such a fool—I told you to pout, not to just sit there waiting!"

Sometimes this man was quite adorable.

"I stuck my lips out, and you just give me that?" Fang Hong was unhappy.

(End of Chapter)