Chapter 312: Let Some People Get Rich First

After the structural meeting came the individual department and company meetings, reporting on the year's results and revenue — for example, the film and television company.

How many films were shot last year, how much revenue, how much profit — all had to be reported.

Subsequently the structure would also be adjusted to carry out the common prosperity plan: it was impossible to make everyone rich at once, only to let those who had followed Fang Hong in the struggle get rich first!

Because Yu Tu's production model differed from other film and television companies — it was not a director-centered system, but rather a collaborative production among directors, producers, screenwriters, and other behind-the-scenes workers — its system had to be distinguished from other film and television companies.

The director would be removed first; how to divide things at project initiation would depend on the Producer's negotiation.

If you want to earn more, pay less in fees, squeeze the share — it's that simple.

And currently, besides the directors Yu Tu cooperated with, there were three major Producers: Chen Zhixi, Han Jianü, and Tian Tian.

Tian Tian was a post-80s generation, later the Vice President and Chief Operating Officer of New Classics, and had produced films such as *Goodbye Mr. Loser*, *Yao Mao Zhuan*, *Hello Mr. Billionaire*, and *YOLO*.

She hadn't risen to prominence yet, having always been Chen Zhixi's deputy before, and was now officially taking over.

A Producer could enjoy Vice President-level treatment: an annual salary of a million while also receiving 2% of the box-office profit, and the core behind-the-scenes staff — the main core personnel in cinematography, art, and editing — would get 3%.

Other non-core personnel got nothing!

With Producer, director, cinematography, art, and editing as the main core personnel, a film could still be shot as usual even when problems arose.

Even if everyone else left and you had to find people with weaker professional skills, shooting could still be guaranteed, because the rest were executors and didn't need to think.

Of course the fees remained unchanged; the share distributed to them was extra.

Taking *Lost in Thailand* as an example, with roughly 376 million in profit, 5% meant about 18 million distributed to the production team and core behind-the-scenes staff.

In other words, over 11 million of that had to be distributed to the behind-the-scenes — essentially given to them for free.

The behind-the-scenes got more because they had to follow a film through to the end; the Producer got less because they could plan multiple productions at once.

A Producer had to guarantee the film's profit, the company's profit, and the vested interests of all behind-the-scenes creators.

If you couldn't guarantee it, then next time who would follow you? Who would give you a project?

This system was still in the exploratory stage and would be gradually revised later; in any case, the core remained unchanged — distribute the money, let some people get rich first.

After taxes were removed from a film, Yu Tu originally had about a 45% share; how to distribute it to distribution, to those Producers, and to the behind-the-scenes was up to Fang Hong.

Fang Hong would gradually adjust; in film and television, he only needed to ensure Yu Tu had about a 20% profit point going forward — no need to guarantee too much.

Because his business was constantly expanding.

Now the market was bigger, and the spread of mobile internet had enlarged the entertainment pie; in the future Yu Tu would have more channels to make money — films, television, Variety, investments, all of them.

No longer like before, walking on thin ice, filming one at a time — multiple could be shot at once.

Add to that the later rise of Animation, it was no longer relying solely on live-action film and television; live-action only needed to keep producing content.

The adjustment of the film and television share was sent, in the name of Chairman Fang Hong, to the internal email of all major Producers and behind-the-scenes personnel.

From this day forward, all film and television profit points released henceforth would give the behind-the-scenes a 3% profit share.

"The Principal is going to give us more money."

"I got it too, awesome!"

"If it's like this, can I take out a loan to buy a big house?"

This was a conversation between Liu Yin, Li Anran, and the editor Tu Yiran — the three of them were very happy, very excited.

Being able to take home more money — how could they not be happy?

Tu Yiran was also a post-80s generation, also from the Beijing Film Academy department; in his previous life he had edited *Pegasus*, *Moon Man*, *The Eight Hundred*, *Xiu Chun Dao*, and many other films.

The previous *Lost in Thailand* was also edited by him.

This time Fang Hong was giving extra dividends to the main core personnel, and it quickly spread through Yu Tu's internal circle.

No one expected the Principal to be so loyal, actually fulfilling his original promise step by step — common prosperity.

Most people were naturally happy, excited; of course some were envious, envious that those old-timers could get rich first.

"Chinese Entertainment, we decide!" someone shouted.

That was their original slogan — the Principal had not forgotten them.

Someone even ran specially to the main gate, breathed on the "Chang'e Holding Rabbit" statue, and then polished it bright.

When someone asked what he was doing, he said: "Faith."

This move benefited not only the core team following Fang Hong, but also other film and television workers and behind-the-scenes staff — the number of people benefiting reached into the dozens.

Because Yu Tu's production volume was constantly increasing, and the core personnel would also keep increasing.

The film and television side would still need to adjust a series of rules and regulations — this would need Chen Zhixi to handle.

Afterwards the screenwriters also had to meet; screenwriters had no leadership, management was loose, writing original scripts or adapting novels depended entirely on their own willingness and self-discipline.

This meeting Fang Hong brought a person — Yang Yuanying, Vice Director of the Beijing Film Academy Film Department.

That wasn't important; her main identity was Director of the Film Critics Society, which handled award selections and gave films their endorsement — whether your film was good or not, she had the final say.

For example, Liu Tianxian's acting was terrible, but if she said it was good, then it was good — common folk, get out of the way, your opinions don't matter.

The Film Critics Society was far more prestigious than the Film Association: the former was a state-level organization, a first-tier society under the General Administration; the latter was a civil organization.

The former consisted of Experts and professors, academic staff from institutions of higher learning; the latter consisted of stars, entrepreneurs from state-owned and private film and television enterprises — dividing up the spoils.

Yang Yuanying wore a pair of glasses, looking very intellectual, with a scholarly air about her.

She walked into a meeting room, stood at the front, looked at the people present, and said with a gentle smile: "Hello, everyone!"

"Hello, Teacher Yang!"

Present were Bao Jinjin, Zhang Disha, Jiao Huajing, Shao Yihui, Wen Muye, Deng Ke, Jiang Zhuoyuan, Zhang Ji, and over a dozen other screenwriters.

They also recognized this person — their professor.???? Fang Hong stood beside her and said: "I invited Teacher Yang over because I want to establish a Literary Society; Teacher Yang will serve as its first president."

This remark left the group below puzzled, not knowing what the Principal wanted to do.

"Let me explain. I've discussed with the Principal, and in order not to bury outstanding screenwriting talent, the Literary Society will adopt an application system and a recommendation system going forward.

The application system means screenwriters with past achievements can apply to join this society; of course, submitting a good screenplay also counts as an application to join;

The recommendation system means classmates, alumni you know, people you consider talented can be recommended over — of course this requires my approval."

Yang Yuanying had a way of speaking that gave people a warm, approachable feeling; it seemed reading more really did have its benefits—sometimes Liu Tianxian gave off that same vibe.

The moment she said that, a buzz of murmuring rose from below.

"Those of us who are already employed at Jade Rabbit don't need to apply again, right?" Jiao Huajing asked.

"No need. Not only that, some of you will even become vice-presidents and enjoy additional allowance benefits," Yang Yuanying said.

That's good—I thought they were going to make us take the exam again.

Fang Hong's doing this precisely so the group manages itself, and so it can absorb outstanding screenwriters from the market into the group.

"From now on, whether it's film or television, Jade Rabbit will set aside 2% of its profits for the Literary Association—the president gets 0.2%, and all the vice-presidents together get 0.4%."

"This applies regardless of whether you actually wrote the script—as long as it's produced by the Literary Association, the president and vice-presidents enjoy this benefit."

Fang Hong paused when he got to this point.

The meeting room immediately filled with murmuring; previously they'd been getting 1%, now it had risen by another 1%.

And there's no need to be credited as screenwriter—as long as you're at the president or vice-president level, you can enjoy the extra dividend.

Then the president and vice-president positions are awfully tempting—no work needed, just manage a little and you get paid.

Taking that ratio, with a film or show earning a hundred million in profit as an example, the president alone could get two hundred thousand.

The vice-presidents, being multiple people, could together get an extra four hundred thousand!

Their nature is also different from producers—those behind-the-scenes producers have to follow the crew for months; an elite, working themselves to the bone, can shoot at most four films or shows a year.

Shoot any more and they simply can't—people need rest.

These screenwriters of theirs, sitting in front of a computer, can write many more in a year; a script written this year mightn't be released until the year after next, and it's still earning money continuously—it's different.

So they can't be given that much.

"The remaining 1.4%—0.4% will serve as a development fund. This development fund is your guaranteed base salary, and also covers benefits—any travel, team-building, whatever you want to do, the money comes out of this.

Meaning as long as you're a member of the Literary Association, you get a guaranteed base salary—performance doesn't matter.

The other 1% is the share for credited screenwriters—that is, whoever writes the script, however many people write it, that's who earns the money, and no one can take it away."

Fang Hong had more or less laid it all out.

In other words, their share of the scriptwriting pie hadn't changed—what was new was the reward mechanism; that 0.4% is their salary plus benefits.

Don't underestimate these fractions of a percent—Jade Rabbit now releases a lot of films and TV shows every year; if ten or eight get screened, that base number becomes much larger.

Last year alone, Jade Rabbit's film box office exceeded three billion, which means 2% for their screenwriters comes to tens of millions.

And that 0.4% is their guaranteed base salary going forward—this guaranteed base salary only ensures members' livelihoods, including the livelihoods of newly joined members.

You have to give people room to make mistakes, let them write slowly—you can't beat them down with one stick.

As long as they join, they get a salary—five thousand is enough; a hundred screenwriters is only five hundred thousand in wages, so it's entirely sufficient.

Travel and team-building are also necessary—screenwriters need to relax and refresh their minds.

This approach has a drawback: it easily breeds lazybones—lying flat still gets you a salary and trips, so who'd bother working?

But for now, in this early stage, that problem doesn't exist; later on, adjustments will be made to weed out the lazybones.

There's no absolutely perfect system—it can only be refined continuously.

"Principal, I agree—it's very humane!" Bao Jinjin raised her hand happily.

They even give us money to go out and play—how great is that!

The others' faces also showed varying degrees of approval, feeling the Principal really had their interests at heart.

"But to be clear, all benefits are limited to Literary Association members—others are not included," Fang Hong said.

"We know that—just tell us who the vice-presidents are. We have no objections to Teacher Yang being president," Bao Jinjin said.

She's a professor at Beijing Film Academy—how could anyone object? Fang Hong meant to give people like her some perks.

That's a signboard—it's influence!

Yang Yuanying looked at this group of young people—truly full of energy; the screenwriters she'd seen before were all listless, utterly drained.

That was because other film and TV companies squeezed them too hard and never valued them.

"Vice-presidents Jiao Huajing, Shao Yihui, Bao Jinjin, Zhang Disha—the four of you will concurrently serve."

The moment Fang Hong said this, everyone else present was envious, but no one said anything—after all, they were the earliest to follow the Principal.

The rest of them had all joined later.

"The president is appointed every two years, and vice-presidents are elected every two years as well—reappointment is allowed, but it depends on the Literary Association's management and performance," Fang Hong's words put an end to anyone occupying a position without doing the work.

In other words, everyone has a chance to become vice-president and get rich—as for president, ordinary screenwriters shouldn't even think about it.

That position is reserved for people of high moral standing, with a certain literary reputation and a certain status—every two years, nurture one impressive figure.

(End of chapter)