Chapter 313: Formal Company

A screenwriting team isn't satisfied with just ten or so people—it needs dozens to be qualified; sometimes a single script requires four or five, even seven or eight screenwriters to polish it.

Many great directors became famous thanks to several screenwriters supporting them; Ning Hao is a typical example—behind his good films, at least three or more screenwriters helped refine them.

Guo Fan's breakthrough work, The Wandering Earth, was backed by nine screenwriters.

When the number of screenwriters decreased in the second installment, the grand narrative structure couldn't hold up.

More screenwriters don't automatically mean better, but having professional screenwriters can absolutely expand a film's depth.

For example, Misconduct altered its ending to elevate human nature, just to pass censorship—it not only left audiences with no complaints but also added depth.

This film was also supported by six screenwriters.

So currently, dozens of screenwriters are barely enough, because we plan to increase film production, TV production, and web dramas, and even variety shows need screenwriters.

To have good stories, screenwriters are absolutely essential.

Don't emulate Lao Mouzi—trying to insert himself into every film's writing, producing terrible narratives; it's no wonder audiences criticize him.

Lao Mouzi can afford to gamble because everyone invests in whatever he makes; others with weak narratives easily collapse, like Chen Sicheng.

If the story is bad, audiences immediately refuse to buy it.

Screenwriting remains within the production sector; next is the talent agency.

Talent agencies are also closely tied to the production sector—they cultivate artists and raise their value, generating additional income.

Yutu Talent still has the same people: Zhang Songwen, Xie Miao, Zhu Yilong, Li Xian, Zhao Xiaodao, Guo Jinfei, Zhou Yiwei, Cai Wenjing, Nazha, Song Jia, Bai Yu, Mao Xiaotong, and others.

Fang Hong hasn't met them; many are busy outside, some filming, others attending events, so he can't meet them all.

He met the agent team—artists aren't managed by just Huang Bing; although he handles artists, he can't handle them all.

Now there are Jia Shikai, Wang Xiaoxiao, and Zhang Xiaowu, agents who previously managed famous artists in their past lives.

Among them, Jia Shikai once founded his own company and managed Yang Yang in his past life.

Four of them sat in a row in one office; Fang Hong sat across from them.

"I once encountered something—Nazha came to my room and said if she could 'get me,' she'd have no worries in the entertainment circle," Fang Hong said calmly.

The four across from him exchanged glances, all looking confused, except Zhang Xiaowu, who looked embarrassed—the answer was obvious.

"I'm not here to investigate who gave her that stupid idea; I'm here to tell you: Yutu is a legitimate company. We must respect every artist's wishes. Whoever they are, if anyone asks an artist to sell their body or soul, it must be refused," Fang Hong said.

Pursuing it won't help—the next person will do the same; the environment of this circle is just like this.

"Some things, even we can't resist," Huang Bing said weakly.

Some financiers and brands have this kind of preference—they get itchy seeing pretty girls and want to sleep with them; it's normal.

"If you can't even protect your own artists, what's the point of having you? If they can gain benefits by selling themselves, why do they need the company?" Fang Hong retorted.

Huang Bing lowered his head and fell silent; the others also remained quiet.

"You may see the entertainment circle this way and have grown used to it, but under me, no matter how powerful the person is or who they are, this will not be allowed. This isn't a notice—it's a rule, and it must be enforced," Fang Hong said firmly.

"Yes, yes, yes!"

They nodded, expressionless; the Principal had strong authority and a big-shot aura—they couldn't match him.

He became who he is by standing alone, never bowing to anyone's face—who could compare?

After chatting with the talent agents and confirming his core philosophy, Fang Hong went to the special effects company.

Currently, the special effects company has about four hundred people; supporting them is already at its limit and feels bloated, because there simply aren't enough films to keep them busy.

This sector has little to say—it just needs volume, meaning orders.

South Korea's International Market is currently filming, and its special effects work has been outsourced to Yutu Special Effects.

The Zhong family has also outsourced special effects work; the game Fortnite and its promotional videos will also have outsourced special effects.

Plus, Yutu's own productions now add some special effects to every film, however minor.

For example, covering the background with a green screen and turning it into lush green trees.

When real locations can't be found or the cost of switching scenes is too high, special effects are used—they're extremely realistic, hard to detect unless you look closely.

Once the digital base is completed, with hardware and advanced studio support, special effects will reach another level.

This can't be rushed—it requires constant nurturing.

To support special effects, production, screenwriting, and talent agency operations, this year's plan includes many films.

Lucky Key, directed by Guo Fan, was already in production; the actors are Guo Jingfei and Liu Yijun.

Xiu Chun Dao, directed by Lu Yang, gave the lead role to Xie Miao, the female lead to Nazha, and the third brother role to Zhu Yilong.

Other actors remain unchanged—they're still the same people!

A Bonded Love, directed by Xue Xiaolu, stars Liu Tianxian; the male lead is Bai Yu—this actor's performance is crystal clear, his acting is unquestionable.

Bai Yu was already a Yutu artist.

Liu Tianxian must act with peers of her age—don't pair her with veteran actors; she'll be naturally outshone.

Because veteran actors are already famous; even before they watch, they know Liu Tianxian's acting is terrible, and their reputation makes audiences form preconceptions.

Acting is vague and hard to define—it's sometimes good, sometimes bad, always judged by comparison.

If you compare her with young peers, audiences will reevaluate Liu Tianxian with fresh eyes.

Hmm, this boy's acting is good, and Liu Tianxian's isn't bad either—just that kind of feeling.

Hand it to Xue Xiaolu to direct—she's the one who excels at romance films, with a delicate touch. Fang Hong simply didn't have the time to polish a romance like this; for him, it would be a waste of time.

Giving Xue Xiaolu the directorial role is because he excels at romantic films, with delicate sensibilities; Fang Hong doesn't have time to polish such romantic pieces—it would be a waste of his time.

Of course, all intimate scenes must be cut; the expression must be restrained and pure—love isn't created by just kissing; it could easily become cloying.

Sometimes a glance, a smile can convey love.

If you can't express that, you're an idiot director.

Dying to Survive, directed by Wen Muye, produced by Han Jianü as partner—these two can recreate the original film; both are master's degree holders.

We removed Huang Bo and Xu Guangtou's pairing and replaced them with Zhang Songwen and Shen Teng as leads.

【61】 Fang Hong wants to cultivate his own actor roster; those two are hard to control—they demand shares if you want them to act—fuck that.

Now that Huang Bo and Xu Guangtou have made it big, they want a stake in every movie, so Fang Hong doesn't bother negotiating with them either — in his eyes, no one is irreplaceable.

Shen Teng is a Mahua FunAge performer, no problem, planning to acquire them.

Right now Mahua FunAge is still just a small workshop.

For "Ex-Files," director Wang Ran, let Li Xian and Cai Wenjing take the leads, with Mao Xiaotong in a supporting role.

Originally Chen Xiao was going to star, but he was too busy; Cai Wenjing has already graduated, and this is exactly the time for her to build her career.

For "Beijing Love Story," director Chen Sicheng — he'll find his own cast, Jade Rabbit won't interfere too much, giving him autonomy.

Actually, everyone was given autonomy, but giving priority to Jade Rabbit's artists is the unspoken rule.

This slate, plus the TV dramas, basically takes care of every artist under Jade Rabbit — either as lead or supporting role, everyone gets a piece.

Plus it keeps everyone working; if they don't work, there's no way around it — just the monthly payroll alone costs tens of millions.

Of course there's also "Gravity," but that can only be planned and prepared for now, can't be shot yet.

To support such a huge production volume, finances have to keep up; last year the artist management side didn't really make much money.

But Chen Xiao's explosion in popularity gave the management business a lift — after expenses, Chen Xiao alone earned the company 110 million, and there's more to come.

This is an economic split, half each.

The original agreement was that the benefits "My Love from the Star" brought Fan Xiaopang, she had to hand over half her income to Jade Rabbit — that's 93.04 million.

Less than Chen Xiao, because Fan Xiaopang has her own team — she has to deduct costs before splitting profits, which is different from the company's own artists.

But it's only been two or three months, there's plenty of time ahead; their heat will last at least a full year.

Artist management income reached around 200 million, plus "Lost in Thailand" movie profits around 300 million; plus "My Love from the Star" TV drama profits around 165 million.

This TV drama sold domestic and international rights cheap, and Bilibili didn't pay licensing fees either — just ad revenue sharing as the licensing fee payment.

Altogether it's 665 million, and after all that blood, sweat and tears it can't even match a single "Fifty Shades of Grey."

Apart from necessary administrative expenses, 200 million of this money has to be invested into the Animation Department.

The Animation Department burns through 100 million in just half a year — way too expensive.

Additionally, the annual public relations budget is raised to 50 million.

The remaining funds, besides paying bank interest, will serve as a capital pool to reinvest in other film and TV projects, and to develop web dramas.

Jade Rabbit will also produce "Soul Ferry," "The Heirs from the Stars," "White School Uniform and Long Legs," and the like.

They'll also support the web drama market through cooperation — for example, Wanhe, investing in them and buying them traffic.

But no equity stake — web dramas like that won't survive long, most are just a flash in the pan, because their inspiration runs dry and they have to face a transformation.

Not everyone likes making people laugh, and you can't always have gags and punchlines; Wanhe is the best example — later the audience gets aesthetic fatigue, the well runs dry, and they have to face a transformation.

So no need to take equity, just help them, support them, that's enough.

After all, Bilibili now has tens of millions of monthly active users — it can't compare to the top platforms iQiyi, Youku, and Tencent Video, they have backing and started earlier, but it's still worth competing.

The track was never quite the same anyway — Bilibili is still mainly mid-length video.

This year is a year of consolidation for video platforms; many will either go bankrupt or be acquired.

Because big capital is starting to throw money around everywhere, buying up copyrights and pushing copyright prices up without limit.

Once this step is done, then push for legislation on copyright standards, and the road for latecomers is basically blocked.

Which means you can't do mainstream video platforms anymore — no content, no money to buy copyrights, straight to death.

Fang Hong has always focused on content — producing his own, helping others produce too, quality aside, filling the content library to prepare for the coming copyright war.

Also to lay the groundwork for building a long-form video platform.

This is an era of upheaval, a great turning point — internet competition is far more intense and brutal than the entertainment industry; they have money, they have power.

(End of chapter)