Chapter 464: Cultural Enterprises

To respond to Chang'e Video's revenue-sharing model and IP openness, iQiyi, Youku, and Tencent Video had no choice but to successively revise their own segmented revenue-sharing models in response.

They couldn't abandon them, as they also needed those small workshops to supply content.

Next, iQiyi, Youku, and Tencent Video successively readjusted their own revenue-sharing rules; iQiyi adopted a revenue-sharing model based on completed drama episodes and ad installment payments.

You get paid when you finish filming, and you get paid in installments for ads—simply because their financial situation was the worst and their funding pressure the greatest.

Youku used a calculation-based revenue-sharing model, relying on member viewing duration and CPM advertising; CPM means impressions—how much money per impression.

This revenue-sharing required meticulous calculation: total member viewing duration, total drama duration, unit price, coefficients—only then could the final revenue split be determined.

The ratios were vague and opaque.

Like when you buy something on Taobao—the discounts are so complex they make your scalp tingle.

"It's hard to explain now; you'll know later," Fang Hong said, offering no further explanation.

"Oh! I got a role!" In a girls' dormitory, Chen Yao suddenly jumped up happily.

Chen Zhixi was willing to authorize them to film and willing to invest partially, but with one requirement: minimum daily pay for extras must be 200 yuan.

Because it was mostly a two-character drama.

Her friend sneered: "Stop pretending—you're lucky to even have a role, and now you're complaining? Think you're some big star?"

"Don't lose heart; there are plenty of opportunities now—they'll come to you for sure," Chen Yao comforted, glancing at each roommate.

This allowed the production side to receive a cash infusion even before the content aired.

The extra expenditure could be cut from other budget lines! The partner of "The Lost Tomb" agreed to Yutu's demands; funding targets were met, so they were allowed to film—with Bai Yu, Yang Yang, and Nazha cast as the lead roles; all other roles remained unchanged from the prequel.

Now everyone was just beginning to prepare projects when Nanpai Pan Yu and Great Dao Culture Media approached Chen Zhixi to co-produce the web drama "The Lost Tomb."

It was normal—Alibaba-backed companies favored Big Data; they were also wealthy enough to pay up to 25 yuan per episode, though only if you could calculate it correctly.

Pang Donglai was criticized for doing this; if the Principal continued slowly, his scale would become many times larger than Pang Donglai's, providing good income for hundreds of thousands.

Fang Hong certainly wouldn't listen to them—my money, I'll give it however I want.

Actors, young actresses, and students from Beijing Film Academy also gained massive opportunities.

Not just these people—Han Dongjun, Jin Chen, Sheng Yilun, Song Yi, Wu Lei, and a whole cohort of new-generation actors gained acting opportunities.

Meng Ziyi said nothing, kept lying down, staring at the Principal's signed notebook, her face filled with disappointment—what did she lack compared to this person? Why didn't the Principal come to her?

The film and television industry was moving forward, but its power needed time to manifest; as time entered June, the weather grew hot.

Wang Yifei was genuinely happy for her; everyone knew Yutu was a major company, and acting in their dramas offered a chance at fame—Zhao Xiaodao had become famous this way.

Fang Hong's push into the film and television industry had immediate effects; though the shows hadn't aired yet, project approvals had already given many people opportunities and jobs.

The Principal's face had to be respected—200 yuan meant nothing to them; for 200 extras, it was just an extra 20,000 yuan daily, since they already paid around 100 yuan per extra, now adding another 100.

This was a high-quality web drama; only well-funded producers made such demands. Small workshops were temporarily exempt from requiring a specific daily rate for extras.

The novel's copyright was held by Yutu, so Yutu's participation was necessary.

Jin Dong even complained to a friend: "Yutu's actor fees are truly low."

With just twenty or thirty productions, Hengdian and Beijing could instantly absorb tens of thousands of extras—even hundreds of thousands—since a single big film could absorb over a thousand people; Fang Hong had thought deeply about this.

But it had a flaw: it didn't involve ad revenue sharing, so this income stream was far lower than Chang'e's.

LeEco and Sohu also successively established their own revenue-sharing models and poured large sums of money into them.

Chang'e Technology was still holding up thanks to "Hero Glory," but this year's planned billion-yuan investment would result in losses.

"How can I give it up? Even if I give it up, others won't necessarily take you. If I get an opportunity, I'll definitely recommend you," Jin Dong laughed.

The true power of web dramas hadn't yet appeared; next year, when it began to show, losses would likely be even greater, due to having to share revenue with more partners.

No matter how competitors adjusted their revenue-sharing rules, none matched Chang'e Video's generosity or transparency.

Though he didn't know what this thing was for, having it was better than nothing—it proved the higher-ups recognized him.

Not every production could make such demands—for example, "The Bodyguard of the Flower Princess," shot by a small workshop with borderline content, had almost no budget; requiring extras to earn a certain amount would be a huge expense for them.

Zhang Nan had also asked Fang Hong at dinner whether to invest in internet TV; Fang Hong flatly refused, saying: "With technological advancement, people will all watch on their phones; TV is destined to become niche, and phones will integrate with TVs."

These companies weren't just burning money on the internet—they were also burning money on TV boxes; this was precisely when internet TV was being popularized, a brand-new arena.

The annual summer movie season was approaching, another time for film studios to compete.

But at month's end, "Transformers 4" was coming strong, making many film companies wary.

The two CEOs said nothing and chose to agree.

They bought hit properties: "Golden Jade Good Match" was bought by iQiyi; "Divorce Lawyer" by Tencent; "Line Walker" by Youku.

"Yutu's 'Wu Xin: The Monster Killer,' female second lead!" Chen Yao exclaimed, holding up a victory sign.

Another advantage: Tencent would invest part of the funding before the project began—production could receive half the funds before the final product went online.

This caused many productions to complain to the Hengdian Union; the union even wanted to talk to the Principal—it was disrupting the market and harming unity.

Yutu had become a company with honorary status. They collaborated or licensed content; if funding was sufficient, they required higher extra pay; if not, they didn't insist.

Even HUB Province wanted to award Fang Hong a Top Ten Youth title, but it was only talk—he hadn't contributed anything to Hubei.

Continuing like this was starting to make him a target, but it hadn't yet surfaced—it was all undercurrents.

Whether in front of or behind the camera, whether actors or makeup artists, all had gained work opportunities.

Fang Hong wouldn't tolerate Hong Kong and Taiwan capital complaining—my dramas, I'll cast whoever I want.

Young people were fine, but the elderly and children still preferred turning on the TV; phones were too complicated.

"Really? Which company? What drama?" Wang Yifei asked in surprise.

They were roughly the same age, but Zhang Zhiyao was much handsomer and more refined; the female lead was still Zhao Xiaodao.

Don't say that movers aren't extras—no matter what they did, even the lowest-level crew doing menial tasks, they all had to get this amount; no word games allowed—this was a hard requirement, and Fang Hong's promise to the extras.

And for Yutu's own productions, extras received 200 yuan per day—unchanged—so extras preferred working on Yutu sets; whenever Yutu called, they prioritized Yutu's productions.

That's screen mirroring—not a technical challenge.

But no matter what, Chang'e Technology's push into web dramas was undeniable, and it had propelled the entire industry forward by a great leap.

"Wow! Yutu's, you're amazing!"

"Even if they're interconnected, TV is still a household essential—elderly people and children won't use much technology, right!" Zhang Nan was puzzled.

Even middle-aged and elderly actors like Wang Kai, Jin Dong, and Liu Tao received acting invitations from Yutu.

They were still sophomores, while Chen Yao was the first to secure the opportunity.

Therefore, his promotion of the performing arts and entertainment industry is undeniable and meritorious; the authorities have all taken notice, as jointly announced by Guanming Daily and Economic Daily.

The lead actors in The Legend of Langya List and The Disguiser were replaced—with Zhou Yiwei or Guo Jingfei—while the male lead of Flower in the Mist was changed to Zhang Zhiyao, no longer Huo Jianhua.

Extras didn't have work every day; at most, an extra could work ten days to half a month on one set, and three to five days was normal.

Yutu was also preparing to launch multiple high-quality dramas, such as The Legend of Langya List, The Disguiser, and Flower in the Mist.

But Fang Hong was still hiding, not showing his fangs, because he didn't look at all like someone with such sentiment.

And he boldly declared: "I'm going to join Yutu."

This time, Tu Piaopiao United Theater Chain invested nearly 50 million yuan in promotional resources and subsidies to launch the pre-sale for Transformers: Age of Extinction.

Unless you're Liu Tianxian! On the other side, Zhang Tianai also excitedly told her friend she'd landed the female lead in Go Princess Go.

Tencent's revenue-sharing model was simpler: valid paid streaming counts, valid paid streaming unit price, and sharing ratio.

Other projects like Wu Xin: The Monster Killer, Soul Ferry 2, Go Princess Go, and The Storm Rises were also gradually launched under the promotion of Yutu and Chang'e.

The Principal had done every kind of bad thing for money!

"Then let me have the opportunity," the friend said.

But it could ensure that large numbers of extras had work and something to do—first guaranteeing they could eat, then gradually improving the market as it improved.

Fang Hong knew, anyway, they were all going to be wasted—Chang'e Technology didn't participate in online TV market planning, only focusing on the internet, so the pressure would be much smaller.

Meng Ziyi, lying on the top bunk, sat up instantly upon hearing this, curiously looking down.

Depending on the level, producers could achieve a 70% revenue-sharing ratio—it seemed they had drawn inspiration from Chang'e.

Fang Hong wouldn't care about this—he only cared about the majority; he wouldn't care about any individual.

The Principal was undoubtedly the pioneer; all online drama practitioners owed him thanks—without him paving the way, many would have wasted at least several years.

Film and television production was no longer a high-capital, high-investment industry, but shifting toward small and medium workshops, with financial pressure distributed to the platforms.

She then sighed gloomily: "Ah, I'm so envious of you—we're doomed, got rejected in auditions."

Nothing else—high salary, good benefits! If the budget wasn't enough, pinch it from the stars' fees, pinch it from their accommodation—Fang Hong didn't care about principles. If you want to act, act; if not, get out! This left actors who took Yutu roles—or roles led by Yutu—in a bind: neither accepting nor refusing was easy.

In short, with joint efforts from Yutu and Chang'e, the entire online drama and television drama market was about to flourish.

They awarded Yutu the honorific title: "Top 30 Cultural Enterprises," along with a 2 million yuan reward!

Of course, only a few producers could secure such cooperation opportunities—they needed certain qualifications; after all, no one was foolish—who knew if your production was garbage?

This was a Hollywood IP blockbuster; Tu Piaopiao was again attempting to launch a pre-sale—previously, they had tried with Flower Bouquet, reaped benefits, and gained massive new traffic.

But they had another path—one Chang'e Video didn't have, and could only rely on Yutu for.

Each had its own advantages and disadvantages, but ultimately, it came down to one thing: burning money, massive amounts of it.

Movie fans could purchase IMAX tickets for the first three days of global release in advance via Tu Piaopiao and select their preferred seating online.

This time, the goal was customer acquisition—to gain mobile traffic—different from Fang Hong's original intent.

Because the ticketing market was fiercely competitive; without burning more money, you couldn't hold your ground.

Fang Hong didn't manage this—he only intervened when there was a major decision; otherwise, he let things develop naturally, stepping in only when a crisis arose or expansion or transformation was needed.

(End of Chapter)