Chapter 56: Content Is King

After filming ended, the crew quickly brought over ice packs.

Fang Hong took one and applied it to Liu Tianxian's left cheek, where several clear palm prints were visible.

The moment the ice pack touched her skin, Liu Tianxian hissed—whether from pain or cold, no one could tell.

But she had to endure it; if the swelling didn't go down, she couldn't appear on camera!

Fang Hong asked, "Is it very painful?"

"Of course it is. If I slap you a few times, see how much you hurt." Liu Tianxian shot him a disgruntled glare.

At this moment, though she was full of resentment, she directed it only at this man—toward everyone else, she remained her usual self.

"Then slap me!" Fang Hong said.

These words sent a warm surge through Liu Tianxian's body, and her resentment melted away by half!

She also felt she'd been acting unreasonable.

Fang Hong said nothing more, but removed the ice pack and examined her face—the marks had faded somewhat.

"I'll do it myself!" Liu Tianxian signaled.

Fang Hong placed the ice pack in her hand.

After this scene wrapped, the crew was already packing up, preparing to return and rest—they'd sleep for barely a few hours before filming again.

It was exhausting, but they were paid for it, and mentally, it felt a bit fairer than the last film.

The upcoming plotline was a bit duller.

Liu Tianxian began joining her colleagues' group gatherings; previously, her life had revolved only around her ex-boyfriend, and now she realized there was poetry and distant horizons beyond that.

In fact, this film mirrored Liu Tianxian's own emotional state—once carefree, loved and protected.

After encountering setbacks, she shut herself off, and it took a long time to emerge from that isolation.

Because this movie contained many crying scenes, and her mood beforehand had been deeply low, Liu Tianxian wanted to express herself from within, not rely solely on technique.

So before each shoot, she closed her eyes and meditated.

At this moment, Fang Hong came to her side, saw her eyes closed, and didn't disturb her—instead, he glanced at the books beside her seat.

On set, she always had several books placed beside her seat—not just in his crew, but in every other crew too.

No one knew if she ever read them; they were just always there.

Fang Hong sat beside her, noticed a script on top of her books, and casually picked it up to look.

"The Legend of the Hongmen Banquet!"

Fang Hong read aloud the bold characters on the cover, then flipped the pages to read the content inside.

Liu Tianxian opened her eyes and asked the person beside her, "What do you think of this script?"

"That depends on who directs it."

Fang Hong closed the script and set it down—it wasn't worth much.

Liu Tianxian frowned, puzzled: "What do you mean?"

"My skill level certainly couldn't produce a historical epic like this. But given the abilities of Hong Kong directors, I doubt they could either." Fang Hong used himself as a comparison.

He didn't say whether this movie was trash—he'd seen it, but that didn't mean Liu Tianxian had, and how a script was written didn't guarantee how a director would film it.

But he spoke the truth: epics aren't easy to make; film demands control—that is, mastery.

In his past life, Fang Hong had never directed an epic; his mastery was insufficient, so he couldn't control large-scale productions, only low-budget films.

And Hong Kong directors were always petty—they lacked the control needed to shoot historical epics. History demands grandeur; they'd only produce Triad films!

Someone who can shoot crime thrillers isn't necessarily able to shoot historical epics.

Just like someone who can write urban stories isn't necessarily able to write historical ones—it's that simple.

Do you really think putting a dog in the director's chair will make a movie? That's just because there are too many bad films, and audiences have stigmatized the director's profession.

Of course, the industry's culture is also to blame!

Besides, co-productions rarely produce good films—though that's an absolute statement, most of them are like that.

Liu Tianxian leaned closer and teased, "Of course you can't make it—it's normal."

Again she insulted him; Fang Hong immediately grew annoyed, pretending to stand up and leave.

"Hey hey, I was just joking! Don't be so petty!" Liu Tianxian quickly grabbed his arm, soothing him.

Fang Hong hadn't intended to leave—he was just teasing her. He sat back down, glanced at her face, and asked, "Still painful?"

"A little, still." Liu Tianxian said.

Fang Hong reached out to touch her cheek, but his hand halted halfway.

"It's fine, touch it." Liu Tianxian was surprisingly casual.

Then Fang Hong didn't hold back—he touched the cheek that had been slapped. It was smooth, soft.

"It's fine now."

Liu Tianxian felt the rough texture of his fingers, a slight itch—but she didn't mind.

Fang Hong gently stroked, emboldened: "So smooth. Can I lick it?"

"Get lost!"

Liu Tianxian kicked him hard, sending him tumbling to the ground!

The filming was halfway done, and now they were preparing to shoot the wedding scene!

But it wasn't the male or female lead getting married—it was a friend's wedding in the story, inviting Guo Jingfei and also inviting Liu Tianxian.

This was another iconic scene, but it was expensive to shoot.

"Principal, I'm reporting: we're running out of money. If no more funding comes in, we won't be able to continue filming." Chen Zhixi came forward to say.

After this wedding scene, the budget would be nearly exhausted!

The money vanished so quickly because the early preparations, equipment rentals, and location costs consumed most of it—what's left now is just for living expenses.

"I know. Let's head to China Film Group and see if we can get part of the payment first," Fang Hong said.

It was now the end of September, and Those Years had already finished its theatrical run.

Chen Zhixi suggested, "How about we sell the film rights? A video platform has already reached out."

"How much?" Fang Hong asked.

Piracy was rampant now, and the video platforms willing to pay for rights were only a handful of top-tier ones, but none of them would offer much.

"Two hundred thousand for two years—LeTV wants it," Chen Zhixi said.

LeTV was the earliest domestic video platform to recognize the value of content rights, but it was simply too early, so it couldn't hold on and went under!

Two hundred thousand was already a high price at present; ordinary films only got a few ten-thousand in licensing fees—take it or leave it. If you didn't sell, they'd just upload the pirated version anyway, and no one cared.

Besides, there were now over a thousand video platforms—things like 6. cn, 56. com, PPS, a whole bunch—none of them cared about rights at all.

But Fang Hong knew that in November this year, the authorities would issue a document launching a crackdown on online piracy.

At that point, many video platforms that couldn't afford the licensing fees would die off in droves, and film rights fees would start to rise from that moment on.

Internet video expanding into new territory was one thing, but fundamentally it still needed content to hold it up—the future era would be one where content is king.

"Hold on, let's see which way the wind blows!"

Fang Hong wanted to wait a bit longer; giving it away for two years now felt like too much of a loss.

Later on, a hit film could easily fetch licensing fees in the tens of millions, even hundreds of millions were possible; even online films' rights-sharing could bring in tens of millions.

And the quality of theatrical films was far better than online films!

Chen Zhixi didn't say anything either—she also felt it was a bit low, and that a few hundred thousand was barely enough to fill the gaps between their teeth, useless.

After finishing the talk with Chen Zhixi, Fang Hong briefed Yu Xian and Wang Ran that he was going to China Film Group, and told the two of them to keep filming.

Of course, with Yu Xian taking the lead.

"What?!" Yu Xian panicked a little: "Brother, I can't do it without you!"

"How do you talk? How can a man say he can't do it?" Fang Hong pretended to scold.

"We're talking business here—can you not joke around?" Yu Xian was speechless.

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(End of this chapter)