Chapter 201

Ceng Maojun was usually mild-mannered, but even he had turned red in the face from being yelled at—he had never met someone who dared speak to him like that.

Which big boss in the film and TV industry didn't treat him with respect? Even Lao Wang Zong gave him three feet of space.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got, and he dialed Fang Hong again.

"What's wrong with your friend? Why does he talk like that? He has zero manners."

As soon as the call connected, Ceng Maojun launched into a furious tirade.

Fang Hong could only take it, feigning confusion: "Calm down first—what exactly happened?"

"He started by calling me worse than a fart and telling me to crawl—what kind of person is that?" Ceng Maojun lost his composure.

Fang Hong wanted to laugh but covered his mouth to stay silent: "That's just how he is—he talks to me the same way. I just nod and bow."

Ceng Maojun let out a cold "Hmph," seething with rage.

"So did you two reach an agreement?" Fang Hong ventured.

"No, no way to negotiate," Ceng Maojun said.

"Then this—"

Fang Hong fell silent, offering no reply, his tone one of helpless resignation.

"You help me act as a mediator—keep communicating, smooth things over, and get this settled," Ceng Maojun said.

"Me?!" Fang Hong was stunned.

Still wouldn't give up, still wanted into U. S. Rabbit.

"Yes, Wanda's expansion into North America is strategic—Lao Wang Zong is personally overseeing it. If you can get U. S. Rabbit on board, Wanda will owe you a favor."

What good is your favor, you old bastard?

Fang Hong didn't say that: "He doesn't listen to me. You're putting me in an impossible position."

"Xiao Fang, you're capable—I have faith in you," Ceng Maojun didn't care.

Faith in your mom!

They hung up. He should never have let that U. S. company be called Rabbit in the first place.

Operational mistake—shouldn't have made such a basic error.

Fang Hong didn't care—he'd just drag it out.

U. S. Rabbit was too obvious—it needed a new name. Meng Jun was already in the U. S. —have him change it.

Change it to: Zhonghuajia! Pure English.

It might seem like covering one's ears while stealing a bell, but at least it's less conspicuous.

So no one mistakes it for his.

So far, he'd only told Ceng Maojun he held shares—next time he could say he got kicked out and had nothing to do with it, sparing himself trouble.

This is what it means to have no power—you have to grovel.

If Fang Hong had power, he wouldn't give a damn about Wanda or Lao Wang.

During this time, the production of "Heaven's Trace" had halted, daily expenses were high, and Tangren Cai Yinong was frantic as ants on a hot pan.

The heat around accusations that Liu Tianxian was acting spoiled and stealing roles had also cooled—this was a gesture of goodwill.

Of course, some still criticized, but they were just bystanders—the parties involved had stopped.

Yet she kept contacting Fang Hong, kept contacting Rabbit, but got no response—no one answered her.

This is what it means to have no power—Fang Hong could simply ignore her and let her suffer.

The world works this way: when you're weak, everyone bullies you; when you're strong, you can bully anyone.

Being bullied by Tencent and Wanda strengthened Fang Hong's resolve to rise up.

"Knock knock knock."

Huang Bing entered: "Boss Fang, you wanted me?"

"How's it going with the matter I told you about Ceng Aizi?" Fang Hong gestured for him to sit.

"I haven't gotten any nude photos of Ceng Aizi yet," Huang Bing said.

"That hard?" Fang Hong was surprised.

"Yes, Ceng Baoyi's boyfriend Lin Mingqian can't just drop by anytime, and Ceng Aizi doesn't go nude anytime either—it requires specific times and specific conditions," Huang Bing explained.

Fang Hong nodded, understanding.

He wasn't a real son-in-law, and they didn't live together—it wasn't like he could just barge into Ceng Aizi's home.

Besides, something like this had happened before; Ceng Aizi probably knew to avoid suspicion, making it difficult to obtain.

But he wasn't in a rush—when you plan with intent, opportunity will come.

"But we found out who's manipulating public opinion," Huang Bing said.

"Who?"

"Huayi, Berna, plus circles in Hong Kong and Baodao—all of them. Ceng Aizi still has influence, so the full video from the Golden Horse Awards never surfaced. And there's one you might not expect—Shoehorn."

"Shoehorn?" Fang Hong was startled.

Ceng Aizi had real influence and connections across the three regions—he'd been in the industry for decades, and many of his old peers were now elderly.

Being elderly meant seniority; some of those old friends and contemporaries had climbed to high positions.

"Yes, he was the first to twist the truth, bought and deleted the online video, and the other circles coordinated," Huang Bing said.

Such perfect tacit understanding—even unrelated circles worked together seamlessly.

The full version hadn't come out yet; the clipped version appeared first, then was bought, cleaned up, re-edited, and re-released.

That's normal—full versions require copyright; video clips streaming from overseas don't.

With the Great Firewall, that complete clip was PR'd away.

Nothing unusual—any info platform, video platform, or interactive platform only cares about money. With enough cash and connections, it's no problem. "I understand," Fang Hong said, expressionless.

Huang Bing saw he wasn't speaking, and tactfully prepared to leave.

"Wait." Fang Hong called out.

Huang Bing didn't move, stopping in place; Fang Hong grabbed him and whispered something in his ear.

The Plug Knife Cult incident is about to explode—Shoe Scraper can get the surveillance footage, why can't I?

Even if the rumor is true and Shoe Scraper planned it himself, couldn't he just hire someone to film it? It's not a big deal.

The film crew is full of cameras everywhere anyway.

These days, Shoe Scraper has the capital to stir up trouble anywhere.

After hearing this, Huang Bing was genuinely surprised: "Can something like this really happen?"

"How the incident happened doesn't matter; what matters is that people like us control the truth. Whoever controls the truth says you did something, then you did it—even if you're innocent," Fang Hong said with confidence.

Huang Bing understood: how the incident happened didn't matter; what mattered was that whoever controlled the truth could turn black into white.

Even if two people were face to face, if the one controlling the truth said they were fighting, then they were fighting.

This is the power of capital.

Nowadays, since we've just entered the Traffic Era, online order is chaotic; those with certain capital exploit traffic to cause all kinds of chaos.

And the exposure is enormous, the impact profound, affecting many people's fates.

That's why so many big scandals happened this year: the Double Zhang Incident, the Jin Tong Yu Nu Incident, the Zhao Zhen Battle, the Stone Incident—everywhere across the Taiwan Strait and the Three Regions was full of scandals.

Including the Liu Tianxian incident—all occurred this year, causing many stars to become cautious, not daring to be reckless in speech and behavior.

Just like before, when it was said Fang Hong hit someone, the public opinion hasn't calmed down yet, ruining his reputation.

But Fang Hong can endure it; he can hold back.

That day, Chen Zhixi brought Fan Xiaopang to Fang Hong's office.

It had been arranged early that morning.

"Principal, hello."

Fan Xiaopang stepped forward first, extending her hand, appearing very enthusiastic.

Her skin was pale, her long hair glossy black, dressed in a beige trench coat and trousers, radiating a modern, fashionable vibe.

Fang Hong extended his hand and shook hers; her hand was soft and smooth, well-maintained: "Miss Fan, you're truly a VIP—hard to get you to meet!"

We've been trying to arrange this since last year, and now it's this year.

"Before the Principal, how dare I call myself a VIP? I've just been too busy, sorry," Fan Xiaopang said with an awkward smile.

She didn't come earlier because she had reservations.

Now she's come because she sees this as normal cooperation; at her level, there's no need to be timid—Yutu's resources aren't bad, no need to offend them.

That's called playing both sides.

The three sat down in the sofa area; Chen Zhixi spoke: "The 'Star You' project I mentioned before—we're planning to cast you as the female lead."

"A romance drama?"

Fan Xiaopang didn't want to act in a romance drama; she'd spent so many years striving in art films.

She didn't want to be criticized for her poor acting.

She glanced at the Principal; the man sat slightly lowered, calm and composed, as if lost in thought.

"It's a romantic time-travel drama. Time-travel dramas are hot right now; our drama is about traveling from ancient times to the modern era—you play a slightly eccentric goddess who's a female celebrity, matching your current persona," Chen Zhixi said.

"Can I see the script?" Fan Xiaopang asked.

Chen Zhixi pulled a notebook from her bag and handed it to her: "This is our company's key project this year."

"Great!"

Fan Xiaopang took it, tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing her pale neck, then opened it and began reading.

She was immediately drawn in by the plot, lost in it; time slipped away quietly, the room growing still.

Fang Hong remained motionless as before; Chen Zhixi lifted a cup of tea and sipped slowly.

"I'll take this script!" Fan Xiaopang closed the notebook.

She could tell the script's quality—the female lead's persona was adorable and likable, which would benefit her, helping her attract a wave of traffic.

Though she now wanted awards and to pursue an art-film path, she didn't want to lose traffic either.

She added: "Who's the male lead?"

"Chen Xiao."

Chen Zhixi said this, then added: "Since you've accepted, let me explain: after the drama airs, Yutu will take half the profits from all related advertising endorsements, fan meetings, TV appearances—including overseas."

"What?!"

Fan Xiaopang was still thinking about who Chen Xiao was when this stunned her.

In her past life, Ji Jin-hyeok earned four to five million per Asian fan meeting during the 'Star You' craze; her TV appearance fees were about the same.

Endorsements poured in—easily hundreds of millions; Fang Hong must be tempted.

And with early preparation, if the operations team is strong, Fan Xiaopang's influence will only grow—she was born for this.

"Did I not make myself clear?" Chen Zhixi asked.

"No, you just sell the drama—I'll cooperate with promotion, but taking my agency's profits? That doesn't make sense."

Fan Xiaopang spoke with slight agitation.

She glanced again at the man; he remained calm and composed.

(End of Chapter)