Chapter 444: The Cultured Young Woman

Ceng Maojun watched Fang Hong's retreating back, his face equally displeased—such a clumsy excuse was clearly treating him like a fool.

Looks like this guy has never suffered a setback!

Leaving the conference hall building, people along the way greeted Fang Hong, and he responded to each one.

But he didn't stop—there was nothing worth saying to them; with capital entering the scene, he was the biggest prize, even more desirable than Huayi.

There's no way around it—he's never been defeated, never been hurt!

This year, the film and television industry would be the year of the most furious capital tide; after the meeting, fifteen film companies alone had announced plans to go public in various forms.

But not every company could succeed in going public; Fang Hong remembered only one had succeeded this year: Tangde Film and Television.

Others like Xinli Media and Xingfu Lanhai all failed to go public, though of course they could try again next year—there was always an opportunity each year.

Even without going public, it didn't hinder their capital financing—they became appendages of capital.

In other words, hot money was flooding into the entire film and television industry, significantly boosting the overall strength of every major entertainment company.

Nothing else—just money!

Previously, earning tens of millions or even a couple hundred million was considered incredible; now, with capital backing, they'd go fight for the cake.

Although Yutu was currently the leader, the future held great uncertainty—because with capital backing, anyone could come and take a shot, everyone wanted to challenge.

Even if the Principal was evolving into capital, compared to institutional and internet capital, the Principal was utterly insignificant.

The Principal was still too weak, too little accumulated.

Unless the Principal accepted capital's gift, then everyone would be insiders.

In this roaring flood of capital, Yutu stood firm as Mount Tai; even when Houde Fund, IDJ, and others came seeking investment, they refused, citing no plans to raise capital.

Fang Hong didn't come here to be capital's dog or a tool for capital to make money.

Others could, but he absolutely could not!

He had his own ideals, held his bottom line, and aimed to realize "the rich leading the poor to prosperity" within his own domain.

The same applied to the internet industry!

But he still needed to grow, still needed to expand, and couldn't afford to pour out too much money to distribute.

Still, he'd do what he could—like the annual 300,000 yuan operating budget for the extras group, which Yutu had never cut, always allocated.

As hot money flooded into the film industry, the entertainment circle was also buzzing—Wen Zhang and Yao Di were photographed by reporters passionately embracing on the street, utterly oblivious.

Then they were caught again: the man appearing in the woman's hotel room at her film set, followed by intimate car rendezvous.

Even after this string of paparazzi photos, the two still didn't tone it down, continuing their secret meetings.

Probably because the price hadn't been settled or for some other reason, Nandu Entertainment Weekly suddenly released "See You Monday," teasing a major scandal.

This weekly was penned by Zhuo Wei—in plain terms, Zhuo Wei had hired people to take the photos.

This news instantly sparked enormous interest among netizens, drawing massive online attention, with comment sections flooded with speculation about who was involved.

Some big V's hinted it was those two, saying they'd been caught red-handed and news would break on Monday.

This big V named them directly—normal enough, since the two weren't hiding at all; anyone with higher connections or better information already knew.

This made the situation intriguing, and online热度 kept rising.

While netizens waited for media leaks, Goose Factory Entertainment seized the momentum and preemptively released paparazzi photos of the two traveling together in Hong Kong.

The incident instantly skyrocketed in热度, topping the trending charts and becoming an earthquake-level event in the entertainment circle.

There was no way to cover it up anymore—it became a nationwide carnival; the man, showing some backbone, openly admitted his fault and apologized to his wife.

Less than three minutes later, his wife responded.

But netizens felt the PR was too obvious—the entire post was vague, seemingly trying to shift blame, and even used traditional Chinese characters.

Clearly, it was ghostwritten—not penned by the person herself.

As the situation escalated continuously and paparazzi kept leaking more details of the affair, the woman, unable to bear the online abuse, shut down her comment section.

The man couldn't sit still anymore—he started challenging the paparazzi, telling them to come after him if they had issues.

But the paparazzi weren't backing down, claiming they merely presented factual news and had always been professional.

Meaning: you can do whatever you want—it's fact, we have proof, you can't even sue us.

In fact, there had been early signs; netizens had dug up that before, during their Weibo exchanges and award ceremonies, they'd already exchanged ambiguous words and shown intimate behavior.

But what netizens couldn't tolerate was that the man, while his wife was pregnant, went to cheat.

This seriously violated ethical norms; netizens' sense of justice surged, and of course they launched fierce verbal attacks on both parties.

The scandal had become huge—arguably the biggest of the year. Remember, in this circle, Wen Zhang had always been a favorite—popular, talented, and well-resourced.

Backed by heavyweights like Xing Ye and Li Lianjie, how could he not be a star? All top-tier resources.

Yet he'd played such a strong hand so badly.

For outsiders, this was just dinner-table gossip—they couldn't empathize with the emotional and reputational damage the parties suffered.

If you don't want to bear it, don't do the thing in the first place.

Want to have fun but not get scolded? Is being a celebrity that easy?

But this scandal hit the currently screening film Black Coal, Thin Ice, which had previously enjoyed high热度 after winning the Berlin Golden Bear.

Suddenly, this scandal caused the film's热度 to vanish overnight—fewer people paid attention; everyone went to watch the gossip instead.

As a result, the film's box office performance was poor: 10.08 million yuan on its first day.

The next two days, weekends, were 16.69 million and 14.55 million respectively; by the third day, it plummeted to 6.13 million, and never recovered, lingering around a few million thereafter.

Even with its international acclaim and immediate release timed to ride the wave, it still struggled to achieve good box office.

No one expected the热度 to vanish so quickly; Zhuo Wei had sent the news to Yutu, but Yutu hadn't taken it seriously.

Who knew it would blow up this big?

Fang Hong didn't say anything—he guessed even if they'd avoided it, good box office would've been unlikely, since the film wasn't good, and Wen Zhang's scandal might take a month to cool down, by which time the Berlin award would be completely forgotten.

All one could say was fate—it was unavoidable.

But either way, it's profit—just get over a billion at the box office; art films rarely cross a billion.

The film "A Bond Like a Rope," which has been screening for over a month, has officially ended its run, with a total box office of 1.418 billion, becoming the 2014 annual box office champion.

But this year has only just begun; it's hard to say no one will surpass it.

The success of this film not only earned Liu Tianxian personal box office achievements but also garnered her massive praise.

Some say she is: "An art-loving, artsy young woman. She gives off a sense of awakening—a clarity in love and life, an unyielding attitude!"

This character resembles Liu Tianxian's own personality.

She is also clear-eyed, whether in love or in life, with an uncompromising attitude.

This film brought Liu Tianxian immense hidden value—reputation, money, and even invitations from universities to give lectures to college students.

She would speak about her experience making this film and share her views on love.

This terrified Liu Tianxian; she'd barely made it through university—how could she possibly give lectures to college students?

The "Gravity" crew, Fang Hong, envied her: "Just be grateful—I've struggled this long, and only Beijing Film Academy invited me to speak, but you've got Peking University, Peking University!"

He emphasized the last two words heavily, brimming with envy and resentment.

"Hahaha!"

Liu Tianxian laughed loudly, gripping his arms and pushing his head: "You're jealous!"

"How could I not be jealous? I'm sour all over," Fang Hong said deliberately.

Actually, there's nothing to be jealous about—Guo Degang, Cai Kangyong, Li Yuchun, Fang Long, Xu Jinglei, and others have all given lectures there.

Of course, many universities invited Fang Hong too, but he felt he had too little literary substance and declined them all.

They were just joking around.

"Then I'll take you along and give the lecture with me," Liu Tianxian leaned close, looking sweet and playful.

"Then what will we talk about? How you chased me down—give tips to Peking University girls," Fang Hong chuckled.

"Pfft, you chased me, not the other way around—how dare you twist it? Shameless," Liu Tianxian pouted.

Fang Hong wrapped his arm around her waist, their bodies close, smiling: "Then tell me, how did I chase you?"

"Not chased—tricked. I was tricked by you," Liu Tianxian tapped his forehead, looking annoyed.

"Then what do we do? You're already tricked—how about a return?" Fang Hong teased.

"Return your head? I'll return you," Liu Tianxian hit him twice.

As they bantered, Guo Fan called out: "Yifei, Principal, we're ready—can we start filming?"

"Alright!" Liu Tianxian went to get made up and change clothes for the scene; as she left, she pointed at Fang Hong with a stern look, signaling him to behave.

Seeing them like this, Guo Fan was already used to it—his heart remained unmoved.

Fang Hong smiled and headed toward the monitor.

Filming began in mid-February and has lasted one and a half months; more than half is already shot.

Liu Tianxian usually has little to do—most scenes are handled by stunt doubles—but when it's her turn, her emotions are utterly shattered, filled with despair.

This is a huge challenge for her.

The plot is this: the female lead encounters countless hardships in space; despair and collapse run through the entire film.

It's extremely negative, utterly opposite to Liu Tianxian's current cheerful state.

The current scene being filmed is Liu Tianxian's crying sequence: after enduring countless trials, she boards a spacecraft headed for the International Space Station, only to discover the fuel has long been exhausted.

This means Liu Tianxian can only wait to die—she's utterly disappointed and helpless, pounding helplessly on the instruments, wailing—but in the absolute vacuum of outer space, no matter how loud she screams, no sound can escape.

Helpless, she tries contacting Earth via radio, but after hours of trying, the only response comes from Inuit people in the Arctic Circle.

The inability to communicate turns her disappointment once again into despair; she weeps silently, her mood utterly broken.

"This sadness is sad enough, but I don't feel that sense of despair," Guo Fan shook his head behind the monitor.

Fang Hong sat beside him, watching the monitor, saying nothing.

Filming takes time—try again if it doesn't work; don't force her to cry until she finds the feeling, or no amount of takes will help.

During filming, Fang Hong felt someone tap his shoulder and heard: "Xiao Fang."

Fang Hong turned and saw Liu Xiaoli; he immediately stood up: "Auntie, what are you doing here?"

(End of Chapter)