Chapter 322: No Scheming or Deceit

In the office, Fang Hong and Chen Zhixi began discussing the matter of Iron Man 3's release during the May Day slot.

They were still figuring out how to respond.

Chen Zhixi sat across the desk: "Inside info—Iron Man 3 is likely to release at the same time as us. What do you think?"

"Do you have any plans?" Fang Hong wanted to hear her opinion.

If we don't do something about Iron Man 3, this movie won't make money.

The domestic market still relies on box office revenue; rights fees don't bring in much—what can you do with twenty to thirty million?

That's the price for a blockbuster—not for ordinary films, where rights fees are only a few million, even after the past year's gradual standardization and price hikes.

Of course, it's still not fully standardized—it's still an era of chaos and consolidation.

"The Partners has some artistic qualities; if we do nothing, we'll be crushed by Iron Man 3, and how much box office we get is uncertain," Chen Zhixi said, troubled.

Unless we move this mountain called Iron Man 3, we might work for nothing.

The Partners cost around sixty million; it needs nearly two hundred million in box office to break even—two hundred million is still very hard for an artistic film.

"What kind of move do you want to make?" Fang Hong asked back.

"It's just…" Chen Zhixi whispered.

Use some Beijing Film Academy connections to get Iron Man 3 sent back for re-review.

It's an imported film anyway—multiple reviews are allowed; we're not banning it, just delaying it a few days so it doesn't interfere with our profits.

Liu Tianxian held the script, marking it with a pen; seeing them whisper like thieves, she knew they were planning to harm someone again.

She said nothing—this was how the movie market worked.

There are only a few good slots each year; if you win, I lose—it's bound to clash!

"Let's not do that. Others may break the rules, but we still must follow them. We're legitimate business; constantly scheming like this is despicable," Fang Hong said sternly, raising his voice slightly so Liu Tianxian could hear.

But Liu Tianxian showed no reaction—as if she was used to it.

Chen Zhixi stared fixedly at Fang Hong, her gaze filled with scrutiny, confusion, and surprise—as if she didn't recognize him anymore.

Was this really the boy who once risked everything to topple the emperor?

"What's wrong? Why are you staring at me like that?" Fang Hong touched his face.

"Nothing. I just think you've grown taller, become someone I don't recognize—is the Principal still sitting in front of me? Where am I? Who am I?" Chen Zhixi looked around dazedly, acting absurdly.

This made Liu Tianxian burst out laughing—she hadn't known Chen Zhixi could be so cute.

Fang Hong was speechless. Was he really that bad?

"We'll just do some Propaganda—promote from the movie's perspective. Using underhanded tactics is too against the rules. We're not Huayi, not Bona, not Enlighten—we're Yutu, a proper company." He spoke with surprising righteousness.

"Yes, yes, yes!"

Chen Zhixi acknowledged it, astonished—just yesterday she was rushing to launch empty threats, and now he wanted to be the good guy.

She added: "Since you've decided this, I'll leave first."

"I'll see you out," Fang Hong stood up.

"No need to be so polite," Chen Zhixi waved him off.

"Yes, you work so hard for the company—even after hours. I should see you off," Fang Hong said sympathetically, gently holding her arm.

This left Chen Zhixi slightly stunned—this man hadn't been like this before.

She grew wary inside—there must be something behind this.

Liu Tianxian said nothing, watching them walk out the door.

Outside, Fang Hong whispered to Chen Zhixi: "The villain in this movie is called Mandarin. Promote from the movie's perspective—you know what I mean."

After saying that, he returned without expression.

He'd already given Chen Zhixi the strategy; with her intelligence, she'd understand how to execute it.

Fang Hong's words stunned Chen Zhixi; she quickly realized—her expression changed. She knew the Principal wouldn't be that kind.

And this strategy was even crueler than hers!

She only wanted to delay Iron Man 3's release—he wanted to bury it in the abyss.

Damaging national sentiment is a serious ideological issue.

And Fang Hong's phrase—"promote from the movie's perspective"—meant helping the opponent promote, thereby damaging national sentiment.

Too ruthless. She could never have thought of such a vicious plan.

The Principal was still the same Principal—unscrupulous in achieving his goals, unchanged.

He'd just gone behind the scenes, keeping a low profile.

Fang Hong returned to the office, leaned against the doorframe, stuck his head out, and saw Liu Tianxian still sitting on the sofa: "Xiao Feifei, are you planning to sleep here?"

"I'm just waiting for you," Liu Tianxian put the script into her bag.

"No sense at all. No wonder you're so dumb—I'll start calling you Dun Fei from now on," Fang Hong said.

"I'll beat you to death," Liu Tianxian slung her bag over her shoulder and charged after Fang Hong.

Fang Hong didn't stop—he ran off as fast as he could.

As Liu Tianxian ran out, she noticed Chen Zhixi hadn't gone far and stopped to wave: "Sis Chen, we're leaving now!"

"Alright, bye!"

Chen Zhixi watched the two chasing each other like the wind, sighing—youth was truly wonderful.

But she also saw there was no distance between them—no matter how successful Fang Zong became, they remained exactly as before.

In the elevator, Fang Hong had already stepped in; Liu Tianxian chased after him and collided into his arms.

"Ouch, you crushed me," Fang Hong hugged her, grinning as he sniffed her cheek.

"Crush you," Liu Tianxian punched him, then pressed the elevator button.

The elevator doors closed, then descended.

Fang Hong asked with a smile, "If you ran me over and killed me, what would you do then?"

"I'd just find one, find one exactly like you." Liu Tianxian said playfully. "What if you can't find one?" Fang Hong asked again.

"If I can't find one, I won't look anymore. Live alone." Liu Tianxian said.

"That would be so lonely." Fang Hong said.

"Lonely is lonely, so what. It's not like I haven't been lonely before." Liu Tianxian said it as if it didn't matter.

The taste of loneliness—she really had tasted it, and she really could endure loneliness.

"That won't do. To keep you from feeling lonely, I've decided to live well and live to a hundred." Fang Hong raised his fist, speaking with certainty.

"Oh, I'm so touched."

Liu Tianxian deliberately clutched her chest and struck back: "With your scrawny frame, sitting all day without moving, and you still want to live to a hundred? I'm afraid you'll die before me."

At that moment the elevator doors opened, and the two headed toward the underground parking lot.

"Then starting tomorrow, I'll exercise properly and try to toughen up." Fang Hong leaned in and thumped his chest with a couple of solid pats.

"I remember you said the same thing to me last time too. I never saw you move a muscle. Tomorrow and tomorrow again, right!" Liu Tianxian didn't believe him.

"Look at you—I finally made up my mind, and you're already discouraging me."

"Fine, fine, no more discouragement. When you're ready to exercise, I'll keep you company."

"."

The two chatted idly, got in the car, and Fang Hong first drove her home, then went home himself.

On April 8, this National Film Work Conference was expanded into a Film and Television Culture Conference.

Not only film workers had to attend, but those in the film and television industry as well—though by invitation only.

Those whose status didn't qualify were not permitted to attend.

In the SARFT multi-function conference hall, the invited national first-tier performing artists—Li Xuejian, Tao Hong, Feng Gong, Zhang Guoli, Chen Baoguo, Chen Daoming, Li Youbin, Ge Daye, Song Zuyin, Hu Jun, Song Dandan, Feng Yuanzheng, and others—had all arrived.

As well as a number of top first-tier directors—Chen Daren, Lao Mouzi, Feng Kuzi, Wang Xiaoshuai, Jia Zhangke, Ning Hao, and other directors—were also all present.

The performers and directors from Hong Kong didn't come.

Beyond the above, there were also the heads of major film and television companies—Huayi, Bona, Enlight, Ciwen, Huace, Forbidden City Sanlian, Xiaoma Pentium, Stellar, Shengshi Huarui, Huanrui, Perfect World, dmg, Wanda.

If the top boss didn't come, the second-in-command did.

The above were all private enterprises; the state-owned ones included China Film Group, Shanghai Film Group, Shandong Film Group, Zhejiang Film Group, Changchun Film Studio, Western Film Group, Pearl River Film Group, Huaxia Film, Emei Film Group, and others.

And there were also the first and second-in-commands of provincial literary federations, the leadership of the three major academies, members of the Film Association, and members of the Film Critics Association.

It looked to number several hundred people, basically encompassing the elite of the film and television industry—whether of the Academy faction or the Jianghu faction, all were present.

Even CCTV-6 had arrived to set up cameras, but only official media were permitted to report and film; other media could not enter to shoot.

How the conference would be reported after it ended was up to the official media.

So generally, outsiders didn't know what was discussed at such conferences; they could only see the grand narrative on the news.

In the morning, Fang Hong and Chen Zhixi arrived at SARFT headquarters with badges hanging around their necks. Seeing what hung around their necks, staff members immediately came to guide them.

There were many people here, and their attire and bearing all looked very formal.

There were others in the same group, but since they didn't know each other, there was no conversation. After all, with so many people here, even if they were in the same industry, they couldn't possibly know everyone.

"Xiao Fang, you're free today! I didn't see you the last few times." An elderly man wearing black-framed glasses revealed a kindly smile.

"The last few times I was really too busy to make it. I made time this time, didn't I." Fang Hong responded with a smile, his mind completely blank, not knowing who this person was.

This place generally hid many big shots—people who didn't appear in public. He didn't recognize others, but others recognized him.

After all, the "Principal's" reputation was out there!

"Hou Keming, professor in the Director Department at Beijing Film Academy, council member of the Film and Television Association, member of the Review Committee"—Chen Zhixi rattled off a string of titles beside him.

The others didn't matter much, but the Review Committee member title made Fang Hong sit up in respect.

Fang Hong added, "Today I mainly came to learn more from people like Teacher Hou, to broaden my horizons."

This time he blurted out the other party's name and title in one go.

"Hahaha, too modest." Hou Keming knew he was paying a compliment.

The two exchanged a few brief pleasantries. After all, he was a senior, of high status, and worth getting acquainted with.

Those nearby merely glanced at them. Anyone who could come here was no slouch; there was no need for anyone to curry favor with anyone.

Of course, whether they knew each other or not, everyone would exchange a few words.

Entering the multi-function conference hall, there were even more attendees here, all already seated in neat rows. In front of each seat was a name card with the corresponding person's name on it, for easy identification.

There were faint murmurs of conversation here, but not loud—limited to neighbors. No one wandered between rows.

Ahead was a platform several zhang high, with a row of tables and chairs facing the rows of film and television professionals below—clearly the seats for the leaders.

The leaders hadn't arrived yet, so they waited.

Behind the leaders' tables was a banner with yellow characters on a red background: National Radio, Film and Television Work Conference.

When Fang Hong appeared with the flow of people, many involuntarily turned their gaze toward him.

Some knew him, some didn't—most didn't. With no prior connection, their gazes were quite calm.

The gazes with emotion were only from those who knew him—Xiao Wang, Yu Pangzi, Wang Zhangtian, and the like.

Some held hatred, some resentment, and some indifference.

Fang Hong and Chen Zhixi exchanged glances of acknowledgment with those they were on good terms with, and simply passed over those they weren't. If someone was already glaring at you, why press your warm face against a cold butt?

The two took their seats in the third row at their designated places, waiting for the big leaders to arrive.

(End of chapter)