Chapter 285: Give Them a Decisive Blow
Liu Tianxian's matter will temporarily fade out soon; you smear her, she smears your artist—no one has that much money to duel with Yutu Investment.
As for alliances, unless you push someone to the brink, no one will even start this.
Alliances carry the risk of being stabbed in the back; if Yutu lets everyone else go but targets you, that person might as well quit the entertainment industry.
No one will offend Yutu over some minor actor!
Just as this matter slowly faded, on December 31, "Lost in Thailand" surpassed one billion yuan at the box office, becoming the first Chinese-language film to break the billion-yuan mark.
It set a new record in Chinese entertainment film history; media praised it, netizens marveled and congratulated, the film industry was envious, Xu Guangtou was so excited his face turned red and his neck bulged, shouting he'd throw a victory banquet.
The symbol of China's film prosperity began here; the rise of new directors began here.
Chinese entertainment films officially entered the billion-yuan era.
Feng Kuzi was green with envy and announced he'd shoot "Personalized Customization" to make up for it.
But that was their own business.
On the 18th floor of Yutu, a Ruitiaopiao financing meeting was underway; the original shareholders—Tencent, Wanda, Meituan, Guangxian Media—would not add any new shareholders.
Tencent's online resources, Wanda's offline resources, Guangxian Media's content resources, Yutu Investment's production—these four shareholders were enough; no other investors were needed.
In 2012, Ruitiaopiao achieved a transaction volume of 1.7 billion yuan, accounting for roughly 10% of Neidi's box office; this was ticket sales, with daily active users exceeding one million.
Of course, that was peak-day active users.
It participated in and distributed "Ex Machina," "You Are My Darling," "Cold War," and "Lost in Thailand," with a cumulative box office exceeding 2 billion yuan.
The performance was outstanding.
Yet administrative expenses plus ticket subsidies resulted in losses exceeding 400 million yuan, even though distribution was profitable.
In other words, it wasn't making money—it was losing a lot—but the losses were necessary; they had secured the market and explored distribution, effectively establishing a foothold.
They had expanded nationwide to cinema chains, achieved seamless online-offline seat selection integration, and tested stable bank-linked payment systems—this was already good enough.
As the market expanded and intelligence arrived, more ticketing platforms emerged; more capital would be needed to compete.
Ruitiaopiao's valuation was 8.3 billion yuan; Guangxian Media held 12.5% equity; Tencent held 6.25%; Wanda held 6.25%; Meituan held 5%.
With this valuation and slight dilution of shares, to retain existing stakes, further investment was required.
Tencent invested 1 billion yuan, holding 13.29%; Wanda invested 600 million yuan, holding 8.47%; Meituan invested 500 million yuan, holding 6.02%.
Guangxian Media injected 900 million yuan, holding 18.3%.
This was because Guangxian had invested more during its Series A round; if other companies had invested more in Series A, they'd hold more.
Taking Guangxian's current stake as an example, 18.3% is worth at least 1.5 billion yuan—meaning if Guangxian sold, it would net at least 400 million yuan.
More profitable than a film grossing over a billion yuan—you need capital to play this game.
Film production is exhausting and unfulfilling!
Ruitiaopiao released 46.08% equity, diluting each shareholder by only about 5%; Yutu still held 53.92%, maintaining absolute control.
The financing raised 3 billion yuan!
In other words, Ruitiaopiao now had 3 billion yuan in cash to spend freely.
How could this not panic Hua Yi and Xing Ye? If all this money was dumped into ticket subsidies, they couldn't withstand it.
But the financing meeting wasn't over; this high valuation was because Ruitiaopiao planned to fully enter film distribution and ensure independent distribution capability.
Also, expand ticketing channels: concerts, live performances, sports events, theater, and more.
Aim to become a comprehensive entertainment ticketing and marketing platform.
In its past life, Maoyan focused on investment and distribution, concentrating solely on film, leaving the comprehensive categories to Alibaba.
That won't do—we must also seize the comprehensive ticketing segment.
This is the future development strategy, though film remains the primary focus and must be deeply cultivated.
After telling the capital groups their story, the meeting room lights blazed on.
"Excellent, excellent—steady and improving," said Ceng Maojun of Wanda, impressed; Ruitiaopiao was doing well, a successful investment—at least on paper it looked profitable.
"Now we'll pull far ahead," Fang Hong smiled.
"You really plan to go head-to-head with Xing Ye's film?" Wang Zhangtian asked curiously.
Rumors had long circulated that Yutu's "Now You See Me" would clash with Xing Ye's "The Mermaid."
"What's the problem?" Fang Hong said.
"No problem—I'm just asking; Xing Ye's brand is still very strong," Wang Zhangtian said.
"No matter how strong, is it louder than cash? We'll directly give money to audiences—better we lose money than let our rival profit," Fang Hong declared, brimming with confidence.
With money, what's to fear? This is capital warfare.
"Exactly! General Manager Fang has guts—give them a decisive blow," said Liu Zhiping, President of Tencent's Investment Department, praising him.
He'd heard that film was backed by Alibaba—it was essentially Alibaba's first major movie; giving it a decisive blow was necessary.
They competed with Alibaba everywhere.
The film sector was no different—it had competition too.
Fang Hong smiled, a slightly awkward smile—he was just blowing smoke, boasting without intent to challenge Xing Ye.
First, "Now You See Me" wasn't well finished; second, he had no confidence—he knew "The Mermaid" was an outstanding film.
And Xing Ye's brand was still extremely powerful; it couldn't be crushed by mere 20-yuan ticket subsidies.
You might end up hitting yourself in the foot!
After this discussion, several executives left the meeting room; how Ruitiaopiao developed was now Fang Hong's responsibility.
They didn't need to worry—only to assist its growth.
But Liu Zhiping didn't move; he looked at Fang Hong and said, "General Manager Fang, I need to speak with you."
"Let's find another place."
Fang Hong knew what he wanted—it was about "Hero Glory."
Now this game's revenue flows like a waterfall; though it doesn't make as much money as their Dungeon & Fighter or CrossFire, it holds the top popularity on PC.
The two men entered a reception room, and the secretary served them both coffee.
"General Manager Fang, we'll give you money, resources, and help you go further," said Liu Zhiping.
"General Manager Liu, to be honest with you, although I'm the boss of that game, I'm not part of the creative team—whether to take money from someone or not isn't up to me."
Fang Hong added: "To be honest, my creative team are all gaming enthusiasts; they all know Tencent's reputation in the gaming circle and only want to make a good game."
It's just that Tencent's reputation in the industry is too terrible, and no one trusts you.
Either plagiarism or pay-to-win—utterly disgusting.
"Hah, a bunch of coding laborers worrying about industry ecology—how laughable," Liu Zhiping sneered.
Fang Hong didn't know whether he was cursing himself or the actual coders, so he stayed silent.
But he felt it was aimed at him—he really was worrying about this.
"Your company is poorly run—you can't even make decisions on something like this," Liu Zhiping pointed at Fang Hong, sipped his coffee, stood up, and said no more.
Since we can't get in, fine—Tencent's strategy has already shifted to mobile games anyway; we're just annoyed with this guy and wasting time with him.
"I never expected this—I still have much to learn and much experience to absorb," Fang Hong replied.
Damn Gobi, he's saying I'm useless—those previous words were also insulting me.
(End of Chapter)
End of Chapter
