Chapter 189: I Will

Liu Tianxian saw Fang Hong enter, noticed his somewhat gloomy expression, and couldn't help but feel puzzled.

"What's wrong with you? Did you get a fever again?"

She stepped forward, gripped the back of Fang Hong's neck, and pressed her forehead against his: "Good, not that hot."

"My body's fine, but my heart is clogged." Fang Hong said.

"What's going on with you?" Liu Tianxian asked, confused.

"I thought I was someone important—talented, capable, with enough royal aura to intimidate people—but turns out I'm nothing at all." Fang Hong spoke with deep melancholy.

"Did you get shut out at the meeting?" Liu Tianxian guessed.

She knew exactly which meeting Fang Hong had attended.

Fang Hong nodded in confirmation: "From now on, I'll work harder, cut down on entertainment, reduce rest time, and pour more hours into work—I'll make those people see I can talk to them as equals."

He still remembered clearly the condescending attitude of those Tencent executives just now.

"Come on, don't take it personally from those people."

Liu Tianxian comforted him, poured him a glass of water, and held out a medicine bottle: "Here, take your medicine."

"I'm serious," Fang Hong extended his hand.

Liu Tianxian poured the pills into his palm and handed him the water: "Alright, I believe you—just swallow them quickly."

Fang Hong swallowed the pills, then drank some water.

"You've been coughing a lot—this is for you," Liu Tianxian pulled out an elegant gift box.

Fang Hong took it, opened it curiously, and found a silk-like handkerchief inside, embroidered with delicate patterns—beautiful to behold.

"Xiao Feifei, you're too good to me."

"As long as you like it, take your medicine well these days, stay put—I'm going away for a while," Liu Tianxian adjusted his collar.

"Where are you going?" Fang Hong asked, startled.

"It's New Year's Day—time to show up for the brand, clear the backlog of promotions, and shoot some artistic photos," Liu Tianxian sounded extremely busy.

"So you're just leaving me behind."

Fang Hong was reluctant.

During this time, Liu Tianxian had cared for him meticulously—he'd grown emotionally attached.

"Don't talk nonsense—I'm only busy for a while, I'll be back before the New Year," Liu Tianxian gave him a look.

This year's Lunar New Year comes early—on the 23rd of this month.

If Liu Tianxian didn't clear these tasks now, everything would pile up for next year, making it even busier.

But she's filming The Four Great Constables right after the New Year, so she has no time—better to finish everything ahead.

"I can't live without you—I'm counting every day like a year!" Fang Hong threw his head back and wailed.

Liu Tianxian punched his chest lightly: "Just call me if you need me—I'm not disappearing, don't make such a big deal."

"Fine, you go work hard outside—I'll stay home and guard the house for you."

Fang Hong spoke as if he were a househusband.

But Liu Tianxian didn't mind—she was used to Fang Hong's nonsense.

New Year's Day arrived as scheduled, and the box office battle unfolded once again.

This time, though the film generated plenty of buzz, its box office fell short of expectations—even worse than its previous performance.

Dragon Gate's box office: 22.3 million; The Twelve Gold Disciples: 21.4 million; The Big Man surpassed them at 23.39 million.

It seemed holiday audiences still preferred feel-good films.

This performance only doubled normal daily earnings; with only three days of holiday, the three films squeezed each other, each earning just over 20 million, then plummeted to only a few million on the fourth day.

Dragon Gate: 4.77 million; The Twelve Gold Disciples: 5.23 million; The Big Man: 3.98 million.

The drop was devastating.

The film market is tied tightly to holidays, but the overall trend was already set—box office would peak here and decline day by day after.

Final totals: Dragon Gate: 3.2 billion; The Twelve Gold Disciples: 3.5 billion; The Big Man: 3.8 billion.

In the previous life, the first two films earned 5–6 billion each; in this life, each lost about 2 billion—this was no small amount.

Dragon Gate claimed a 200-million investment—if true, it was a loss; The Twelve Gold Disciples, needless to say, suffered the worst losses.

But this film was also the spark that ignited the split between the two Zhangs—the accumulated grudges exploded at this moment.

The exact nature of the grudges isn't worth detailing—when money was made, they were brothers; when no money came, they became enemies.

But The Big Man didn't lose—it definitely made money; its box office in South Korea was even more astonishing than in China, with over 13.4 million admissions.

South Korea's total population is only 50 million—meaning one in every five people watched this film.

Total box office reached 100 billion Korean won—92.83 million USD—equivalent to 640 million RMB.

Compared to its domestic box office, that's a doubling.

This performance made The Big Man the top-grossing film of the year in South Korea.

It became the highest-grossing film in South Korean history.

The most incredible film, The Admiral: Roaring Currents, wouldn't come out until 2014.

"Chinese film The Big Man claims the top spot in South Korean box office history."

"What Hong Kong people discarded, the Jade Rabbit made number one in South Korea!"

"The Big Man: The Year's Top Feel-Good Box Office Hit!"

"."

Such headlines appeared in media across both China and South Korea, leaving South Koreans amazed and Chinese people proud.

This feel-good film not only battled head-on with two major blockbusters domestically, but also tapped into a second market, raking in massive box office in South Korea.

At this very moment, a film critic named Lv Nan sought attention by publicly attacking: "Audiences who watch this film have no brains."

This was like poking a hornet's nest—a flood of netizens rushed into his comments to vent. "Asshole, have you even seen the movie? Don't blab if you don't understand."

"Film critics' words are worthless."

"You upstairs are wrong—this guy definitely got paid."

"These people love to bluster and ride the hype."

"."

Now Yu Xian doesn't control comments anymore; let them scream all they want—he'd already made the money and completed what needed doing.

With Zhang Weiping and Lao Mouzi busy in infighting, Yu Pangzi jumped out again: "Principal is culturally vacant."

This meant Fang Hong's films had no depth—and neither did he.

Yu Pangzi loved to appear as a high-minded sage and offer two-point critiques, as if his words were scripture in the film industry.

He once criticized Wang Baoqiang, saying his films were just test screenings—point, point, point endlessly; he also criticized Avatar 2, claiming it violated Chinese audiences' viewing habits.

Netizens retorted: "Produce a good film yourself, instead of churning out those boring main-theme trash."

But Fang Hong didn't coddle him—he told the media only one thing: "Ignorance has nothing to do with status."

This meant Yu Pangzi was clueless, like an idiot.

The two bigwigs were about to start another feud; the onlookers pulled up chairs, and insiders watched with keen interest as they traded insults.

But the storm never gained momentum—it was abruptly suppressed by some mysterious force, silenced.

The reason: both Fang Hong and Yu Pangzi had been summoned by Zhang Hongsen, Deputy Director of the General Administration.

In a reception room at Douban Hutong, Chaoyang Avenue, Zhang Hongsen—his face stern and upright—sat at the head.

Fang Hong and Yu Pangzi sat opposite each other on either side.

The room resembled an ancient courtroom, all furniture made of wood.

Yu Pangzi glared sharply at Fang Hong across from him—his eyes brimmed with resentment; clearly, Dragon Gate was a financial loss, or he wouldn't look like this.

"Cough! Cough! Cough!"

Fang Hong's expression was blank; he covered his mouth with a handkerchief Liu Tianxian had given him, coughing weakly, looking frail.

As if he hadn't noticed Yu Pangzi's murderous gaze.

"You must take care of your health!" Zhang Hongsen said.

"Thank you, Director, for your concern. These past one or two years, I've simply worked myself to exhaustion—worrying over films day and night," Fang Hong replied.

In these past two years, he'd launched Yu Xian and made four films—truly prolific; saying he'd worn himself out wasn't an exaggeration.

Of course, this was meant for Zhang Hongsen's ears.

"If your health is poor, step back—don't copy others by clashing release dates and competing head-on," Yu Pangzi sneered.

"I want to," Fang Hong said, calm.

That calmness made Yu Pangzi's anger flare: "I haven't wronged you—why are you targeting me?"

"I want to," Fang Hong said, expression unchanged.

"You—"

"Enough! Enough!"

Yu Pangzi raised a finger, about to hurl a harsh retort—but Zhang Hongsen cut him off.

Zhang Hongsen signaled both to calm down: "I called you here to tell you to stop fighting—make good films, do your jobs properly."

"I agree," Fang Hong said again—three words.

"I agree too."

Yu Pangzi voiced his agreement, glancing at Fang Hong across the table—his gaze still sharp.

Their sudden willingness to cooperate left Zhang Hongsen unsettled.

Still, he had to make his point clear: "Last year, ten top-grossing films—five were from Hollywood: Transformers 3 at 1 billion, Kung Fu Panda 2 at 600 million, Pirates of the Caribbean 4 over 400 million, then Harry Potter, Fast & Furious 5."

He counted them off on his fingers: "Yet we didn't have a single film break 500 million. Our three big year-end releases were wasted on internal feuds—do you not feel ashamed of these results?"

As he spoke, he slapped his own face—as if deeply ashamed, his face burning with disgrace!

Fang Hong remained as lifeless as ever; Yu Pangzi stayed silent.

Neither could say much—their goals differed.

In Fang Hong's view, Hollywood films were destined to be expelled; so he focused on eliminating his own people.

Yu Pangzi acted on impulse—he'd originally planned to challenge The Flowers of War, but Fang Hong interfered directly, hence his fury.

As for Zhang Weiping, he was no longer needed; he'd fallen out with Lao Mouzi and would soon vanish from record.

"Do either of you have anything to say?" Zhang Hongsen looked at them.

"I don't," Fang Hong said again—three calm words.

"I do," Yu Pangzi raised his hand: "I want to know—why is Principal targeting me?"

Zhang Hongsen turned his gaze to Fang Hong, signaling him to speak.

"I'm not targeting anyone—it's just market coincidence," Fang Hong said—words equivalent to saying nothing.

This made both men glance at each other.

"Director Zhang, you saw it—he's like this. I want to resolve things, but I can't."

Yu Pangzi continued complaining: "Last year at this time, he said nothing, communicated nothing, interfered with Huayi too. This year, same game—if it continues, we'll just keep fighting."

"Then fight!"

Fang Hong said those three words with quiet resolve.

He wasn't afraid of a war of attrition—The Conjuring's post-production was complete; it only awaited a release date.

Yu Xian had gone to shoot Split—this film had low investment.

(End of chapter)