Chapter 25: Giving a Statement to the Radio and TV Bureau

Yu Xian took the paper, read the title "Waiting," then read the plot.

It was a British award-winning short film, about four minutes long, with a simple setting—just one scene—and two simple actors having a conversation.

The plot could be summed up in one sentence: a father with Alzheimer's and his pregnant daughter at a bus stop.

The ending is unexpectedly tear-jerking!

(Interested readers can watch it themselves.)

After reading the script, Yu Xian was surprised, "Holy shit, your plot twist is insane!"

"You don't need to be so shocked—I'm very low-key," Fang Hong said.

The Vaseline remark made the editor beside him unable to take it anymore; he rolled his eyes.

Yu Xian couldn't stand that smug look either, but they knew each other well—he knew Fang Hong was just joking.

He asked, "Aren't you helping?"

"Bro, something this simple—you should carry it all yourself!" Fang Hong said.

Yu Xian fell silent. He had never led a project alone—not even a short film. Without Fang Hong, he felt unsteady, unsure.

"You just need to tell the story clearly. No one cares how well you shoot it—you're still a student; teachers won't hold you to the standards they demand from big directors."

Fang Hong just wanted to pass and graduate smoothly!

As for how good the short film turned out, he didn't care—it wouldn't make money anyway. Why bother?

If it were two years later, he could earn a bit through traffic and product placement, but now, to make money from such shorts, you'd have to sell them for playback in airplanes, elevators, outdoor screens—places where people kill fragmented time.

But even that requires it to go viral; if it doesn't catch on, no one even glances at it.

Even if it did go viral and you sold the copyright, the fee wouldn't be high.

Because of the current state of copyright protection in China, don't even dream of collecting copyright fees.

Piracy on domestic internet video platforms is rampant!

Unless you sell it overseas—maybe then!

Of course, even a fly is meat, so after this short is made, the copyright must go to Yutu.

"Old Yu, my graduation depends entirely on you—don't let me retake this course!" Fang Hong piled on the pressure.

"Alright, I'll do my best," Yu Xian said.

"Not 'do your best'—you must make it excellent!" Fang Hong said.

Seeing Fang Hong was dead set on making him go solo, Yu Xian had no choice—he found two veteran actors and a location to start shooting.

Actually, the location didn't matter—it could be a park, a roadside, anywhere—as long as there was a reason to trigger the twist, so no money needed to be spent.

A DV camera was enough for shooting; he used his own equipment—all Photography Department students had their own cameras.

Their cameras weren't suitable for films—the footage was too rough, but that didn't matter.

What mattered was whether the actors cost money. There were plenty of veteran actors with no roles; just pick any two.

Fang Hong didn't care about any of this—he just wanted his name on it to graduate smoothly. He had full confidence in the story; he didn't need to win awards, just be better than most students to pass.

The reason he insisted Yu Xian handle everything himself was that soon, he planned to send Yu Xian to the United States.

That was his most solid backing!

A month passed quickly; the rough cut was done!

At this stage, the story structure and narrative arc were clear—you could tell what the film was about.

Simple color grading and music were added—for example, the song "Those Years" was composed by Dong Dongdong.

Fang Hong didn't know if it matched the original—he wasn't musically skilled; as long as it sounded good and his singing felt right, that was enough.

That's right—Fang Hong wanted to sing it himself; hiring a singer cost money.

Better to sing it himself and have Dong Dongdong fix the pitch.

As long as he didn't perform live, no one would know his real level.

Dong Dongdong felt working with this junior was exhausting—not because composing or arranging was heavy, but because pitch correction took up so much time.

Others fixed entire phrases at a time; he fixed it word by word.

His skill wasn't even as good as Liu Tianxian's!

The theme song continued to be pitch-corrected; the film entered the editing phase. Fang Hong and Chen Zhixi brought the now-viewable version to China Film Group.

If China Film Group agreed to distribute it, the matter was settled!

In this era, things were already quite open—you didn't have to go through China Film Group. If you had ability, connections, and methods, you could distribute it yourself.

Many top films from Huayi, Bona, Guangxian, and others had bypassed China Film Group entirely.

Other film and television companies had done the same.

Even some went solo—most notably, the one who collaborated with Lao Mouzi, whose name he couldn't recall.

He was so bold he bypassed distributors entirely, negotiating ticket prices and revenue splits directly with theater chains. When negotiations broke down, the Film Bureau stepped in to mediate.

Two years later, during the peak of the digital transformation, theater chains jointly boycotted the five major distributors over revenue split hikes.

That is, if a distributor insisted on raising its share, theaters would refuse to screen the film—five of those distributors included China Film Group.

So don't overestimate China Film Group!

It simply held resources no other company had, so everyone cooperated with it.

For example, the digital projection system was built entirely by China Film Group; seventy percent of cinemas nationwide used its digital projectors.

That meant no matter who distributed a film, you had to deliver a master copy to China Film Group to get the decryption key made, then distribute it to theaters nationwide—only then could the key be unlocked for download upon release.

This was China Film Group's strength and resource advantage—and it could also charge theaters an additional agency fee for digital projection.

Digital projection reform had begun as early as 1990, but progress was slow due to inadequate infrastructure.

That's what state-owned enterprises are like—abundant resources, heavy responsibilities, driving industry development!

Controlling digital projection didn't mean China Film Group had a monopoly—the state banned monopolies as early as 2003.

So this era isn't like later times when capital infiltrated and demanded dozens of partners to split the profits.

The entire film market is only ten billion now, divided among hundreds of films—capital has zero interest, okay!

A film takes a year to produce, max earning a few tens of millions, possibly losing money, long time cycle, high risk, and on top of that, a mountain of piracy—who'd bother!

If Fang Hong weren't lacking capital and strength, but just deeply familiar with this industry, he wouldn't be in it—he'd do something else.

At the China Film Group complex, Fang Hong and Chen Zhixi approached the front desk and said: "Is Manager Lei here? Say a person named Chen Zhixi is here to see him—they made an appointment."

Manager Lei is from the Distribution Department!

"Wait a moment!"

The receptionist said this, then picked up the landline and made a call; soon after, she put down the phone and said: "Manager Lei is in a meeting—wait a bit longer!"

There's nothing to be done—only wait!

But just like last time, after waiting half a day, Chen Zhixi went to ask and still got no response, as if the two of them had been forgotten.

"What do we do?" Chen Zhixi said helplessly.

Fang Hong thought for a moment and said: "Don't call. Just send a text message to them saying we're canceling the meeting for now—the Film Administration leadership wants you to give an explanation."

Chen Zhixi was confused: "Explain what?"

"Don't worry about what to explain—just do as I say. Our film already has funding from government-guided funds; giving an explanation about its screening status is perfectly normal!" Fang Hong said.

(End of Chapter)