Chapter 622: The Chosen One, Equal Review

Good people in this world are only good as long as you don't threaten their interests; if you do, they will still become your enemies.

Liu Tianxian fundamentally has no conflict of interest with Jiang Zhiqiang, so they can get along harmoniously.

They even see each other as "good people"!

But if interests are violated, things remain as they are—such intense competition must involve Jiang Zhiqiang; it's impossible he's not involved.

If you're passive and good, your company will go bankrupt—who would accept that?

Of course, they haven't harmed each other, so a friendly relationship can be maintained; in fact, Liu Tianxian has even helped him.

Without Liu Tianxian, this matter wouldn't have been resolved so easily; if the Principal got involved, the situation would be different.

For the past few days, the Silk Road International Film Festival has been opening; it lasts five days, with the award ceremony in Fuzhou and the forum in Xi'an.

The press conference was held in Shanghai; though not very famous, its scale is very high.

Fang Hong naturally went to Xi'an; stars and filmmakers from across the Taiwan Strait went to Fujian; the Image Ambassador is Fang Long, and he's everywhere.

He even invited his old flame Jin Xishan.

Liu Tianxian didn't appear; she hasn't shown up in public for a long time—since her wedding, she's vanished from public view, and many suspect she's pregnant or staying home to rest.

In truth, she's just playing around, adding decorations to the house, planting some grass in the yard, and spending time with her family.

Fang Hong went to Xi'an and is busy every day; she's still very family-oriented.

Liu Tianxian sat under a sunshade, one hand holding a bitten apple, the other holding a script, deeply absorbed in reading.

It's her latest script: The Martian.

Filming is estimated for late this year, just as the weather cools down in two months; if delayed further, it'll get too cold.

"Xixi, come drink the black chicken soup," Xu Liyun said, placing a bowl on the coffee table.

"Thanks, Mom, I'll drink it in a bit," Liu Tianxian didn't refuse.

This is her daily staple—either lotus seed soup or silver ear soup—aimed at helping her conceive as soon as possible.

Xu Liyun sat across from her and asked, "Xixi, are you reading a script?"

"Yes, this is the new script they gave me—it's a hardcore sci-fi film, quite good," Liu Tianxian sat up straight and replied.

"How long will this film take to shoot?" Xu Liyun asked.

"Hmm, one or two months, no need for much time," Liu Tianxian thought briefly.

"Don't work so hard; spend more time with Honghong," Xu Liyun said.

"I will. Isn't he busy in Xi'an? Why should I always tag along? I need to spend more time with you too, right?" Liu Tianxian understood her mother-in-law's thoughts—her own mother often said the same.

Xu Liyun smiled; the latter part sounded more comforting.

"This can't be rushed; it might happen anytime—it's unpredictable. Don't worry. Fang Hong and I have a plan," Liu Tianxian said again to reassure her.

"That's good!" Xu Liyun nodded.

"So don't just focus on me—also take care of Fang Hong's health. He's busy every day; he's the one who needs nourishment," Liu Tianxian urged her mother-in-law to pay more attention to her son.

Don't keep boiling so much soup for her every day—she can't refuse to drink it, but drinking it makes her gain weight, and she can't go out in public anymore; she's forced to exercise daily just to keep her figure.

"Alright, alright!" Xu Liyun nodded.

Xu Liyun was easy to pacify—Liu Tianxian's few words calmed her, though a few days later, she'd bring it up again.

It's normal—it's like completing a task: once married, you must have children; once you have children, you must raise them; once raised, you arrange their marriages.

Life just cycles endlessly like this.

On the other side, Chen Zhixi found Jiaozi and discussed a collaboration with him.

In an office, the two sat facing each other; Chen Zhixi poured him tea and gestured: "Please drink."

"Thank you, General Manager Chen," Jiaozi was taken aback.

"Don't thank me—thank the Principal. You're lucky; the Principal said he'll fully support your creative work—give you people, money, resources, technology. Any difficulties? Just speak up; we'll help you fully." Chen Zhixi got straight to the point.

She thought this person was a lucky one—the Principal had never supported anyone this way before.

Even directors like Guo Fan, Wen Muye, Chen Sicheng, and Lu Yang started as assistant directors before being let loose on their own; they never received such support from the start.

Yet this man, who has no notable work to his name, is being supported like a son.

Hearing this, Jiaozi slowly opened his mouth, his eyes filled with doubt, looking utterly confused.

"Don't you think it's impossible? But it's true—the Principal's exact words," Chen Zhixi affirmed.

Jiaozi scratched his scalp, voice uncertain: "But General Manager Chen, why is the Principal supporting me so much? I've never even met him."

"The Principal never follows conventional patterns; his thinking is unconventional. Since it's landed on you, accept it. Whatever you need—just say it. For funding, just name a number. Yutu will fully support you. Your only job is to focus on creation—we'll handle all obstacles," Chen Zhixi said.

She was merely executing orders; though she harbored doubts, she chose to believe—after all, she'd followed the Principal for years and had never seen him misjudge or misread anyone.

Still, the Principal made this judgment without even meeting the man—somewhat hasty.

Jiaozi's mind was foggy; he didn't even remember how he left the office, lost in thought the whole way.

Why is the Principal supporting him so much? What hidden agenda does the Principal have?

He racked his brain but couldn't figure it out—what did he have? Nothing. He was utterly alone. How could the Principal possibly want anything from him?

"Hey, what are you zoning out for? How did the talk with General Manager Chen go?" Tian Xiaopeng waved his hand in front of him.

Jiaozi snapped back and asked: "Do you think I'm the Chosen One?"

Tian Xiaopeng sized him up, puzzled: "What led you to such a massive misconception about yourself?"

"If I'm not the Chosen One, why is the Principal giving me money, people, free access to Yutu's resources, and offering me technology?" Jiaozi said.

"What? Say that again?" Tian Xiaopeng widened his eyes in disbelief.

"General Manager Chen said it herself—the Principal will provide everything and clear all obstacles for me," Jiaozi said.

"Holy shit!" Tian Xiaopeng cursed involuntarily. "Is this real?"

"Real. Absolutely real," Jiaozi nodded.

"You've hit the jackpot! When I negotiated with the Principal, he only gave me money—nothing else," Tian Xiaopeng said enviously.

"So I'm just really confused—what could the Principal possibly want from me?" Jiaozi was still pondering this question.

"What could he possibly want from you? What do you even have?" Tian Xiaopeng shot back.

"Nothing at all." Jiaozi shook his head.

"Exactly! You have nothing—do you really think the Principal wants anything from you? He just wants you to create well, to make good animated films. Even if he did want something, you can't give him anything." Tian Xiaopeng said.

Jiaozi fell silent, realizing it made sense—he had nothing now, and his gap with the Principal was like heaven and earth.

"Enough thinking. Since someone's supporting you this much, don't think about anything else—just finish what you truly want to create. When you've made a name for yourself, then ask the Principal." Tian Xiaopeng slapped his shoulder.

"Mm!" Jiaozi nodded firmly.

People like them had talent and ideals, but before they accomplished anything, they didn't know their own worth.

And people like them needed capital backing—without capital, even the greatest talent would waste away.

Capital may be evil, but it truly solves people's worries with money, achieving twice the result with half the effort.

At the Qujiang Huibinyuan Hotel in Xi'an, during the Silk Road International Film Festival, the venue was brightly lit, filled with Chinese and foreign filmmakers, leaders from the General Administration, and local government officials.

This forum was organized by the General Administration, meant to foster exchange among filmmakers along the Silk Road, in a diplomatic form.

Attendees were all heavyweights: Ding Yaping, President of the Film Association; Zhang Pimin, Chairman of the Film Fund; Huo Tingxiao, professor at Beijing Film Academy; Rao Shuguang, President of the Film Criticism Society; Wang Hongwei, Secretary-General of the Film Directors Association.

Among other filmmakers and directors, Fang Hong spotted Yu Baimei.

There was really nothing worth discussing—everyone just spoke harmonious, lofty platitudes.

Simply put, Fang Hong couldn't understand what those Stan countries' films were about, or what their culture was.

He'd never watched films from those countries; without shared language, what could they possibly discuss?

Fang Hong just talked about "the Chinese Dream—our culture is radiating globally," then everyone took a group photo and the task was done.

But there were reporters here—mainstream media only; no low-tier outlets could appear here.

Fang Hong happened to be walking with a group, including Deputy Director Tong Gang, when some reporters caught up to them.

The reporter asked: "Principal, what's your view on the recent box office fraud incidents?"

"I strongly condemn this immoral behavior," Fang Hong said firmly, sounding indignant—but offering no real opinion.

What opinion could he give? Everyone in this industry had faked box office numbers—no exceptions. Fang Hong had done it too, just not as openly or on such a massive scale as this time.

These new capital players hadn't yet felt the weight of the "iron fist."

Some in the venue glanced toward the Principal; passersby also turned to look curiously.

The Principal's influence was still powerful—reporters clustered around him, making him the focal point, with Tong Gang and other celebrities standing nearby, clearly favoring him.

It was normal—he'd had impressive results this past year.

The reporter asked again: "Regarding the recent strict crackdown on false box office figures, do you think it's necessary?"

"Of course it's necessary—it has played a positive role in promoting the film industry. Whether we're filmmakers or industry workers, we should firmly support it," Fang Hong said with force.

Saying otherwise would invite regulation—so why not?

The reporter asked again: "Can you reveal any suggestions from this forum?"

"Yes. To promote the healthy development of streaming films and series, I suggest implementing Limit Foreign."

At these words, reporters and bystanders alike froze—saying "Limit Foreign" at this event was inappropriate; this was the Silk Road International Film Festival, meant for cooperation and openness.

Otherwise, why were all these foreigners here?

Tong Gang beside him glanced at him, puzzled—this wasn't the kind of thing he should say.

"Principal, we must also reach outward—we are open and inclusive," a reporter reminded.

"I agree. By 'Limit Foreign,' I mean overseas films and series should receive the same pre-review and post-broadcast treatment as domestic ones—equal treatment, no discrimination," Fang Hong said.

That was better—everyone thought "Limit Foreign" meant restricting foreigners, but the Principal phrased it so nicely: same treatment as domestic films. But that wasn't a good treatment at all.

Currently, overseas films and series can be uploaded directly to streaming platforms without review—normal, since even Soul Ferry 2 aired in a time when regulations were incomplete.

Fang Hong's proposal targeted Youku, Tencent, and iQiyi—these platforms had imported massive amounts of overseas series, including Sohu.

Especially Youku, which imported major Western series like A Song of Ice and Fire, House of Cards, The Big Bang Theory, Sherlock, and Friends.

All to attract younger audiences.

These series contained abundant violence, nudity, and political corruption themes.

Even Friends had LGBT plotlines!

Western series naturally have shocking content—that's just how their minds work.

But Fang Hong suddenly proposed requiring pre-review for these series—unquestionably striking Youku, Tencent, and iQiyi.

iQiyi was fine—it had always pursued self-produced content like Chang'e.

Fang Hong's main target was Youku, which had just invested heavily in importing Western series; if his proposal were implemented, many overseas series—including Western ones—would be pulled immediately.

Pulling them down for individual review and editing meant these overseas series couldn't return to platforms in the short term—clearly malicious intent.

Of course, no one understood the hidden motives—they only thought he was speaking up against unfair treatment.

Why must ours be reviewed, but foreign films on streaming platforms aren't?

The reporter asked: "Principal, why propose this suggestion? What's your motivation?"

"The motivation is naturally to protect our youth with correct values, and to ensure a fair competitive environment for domestic and overseas series on streaming platforms."

Fang Hong spoke with moral grandeur, adding: "China's mobile internet is developing rapidly—laws and regulations in this area must be improved urgently."

If his proposal were enacted, Western overseas series would be wiped out—each episode of those series cost over a million U. S. dollars; a single series cost tens of millions, equivalent to hundreds of millions or even billions in RMB.

Currently, film and series licensing rights are already expensive—selling a series for hundreds of millions is normal.

If such regulations were enforced, Youku, Tencent, and Sohu would suffer massive losses.

Sohu might collapse outright—it had imported some American series and once brazenly competed with Tencent for A Song of Ice and Fire. Who gave it that courage?

Youku and Tencent had deep-pocket backers and could withstand the blow; Sohu couldn't.

No way around it—in this giant competition, Sohu was cannon fodder.

The reporter shifted the topic to Tong Gang: "Director Tong, do you think the Principal's suggestion is feasible?"

"The issue of culturally equivalent review standards is open to discussion, but we still hope to find a dynamic balance within an open and inclusive environment—it's a challenge for both the industry and policy-making," Tong Gang replied, avoiding a clear yes or no, speaking in bureaucratic platitudes.

This matter still requires deliberation, but he revealed one piece of information: the idea could be discussed, meaning it had feasibility.

It definitely has feasibility, because just now Fang Hong was discussing this very thing with him.

This is about protecting the rise of domestic film and television dramas; currently, domestic dramas hold only a 50% market share online, equal to that of overseas dramas.

If we don't review them, how can domestic dramas rise? How can we instill correct values in teenagers? Isn't this blatant cultural invasion?

There's a reason so many people love European and American dramas—they break through restrictions.

It's simple: if the review of any drama is even slightly loosened, that drama can easily become a hit.

"The People's Name" and "The Knockout" are the best examples—these two dramas became hits precisely because of loosened reviews.

Because audiences have seen too few such dramas; they're tired of romantic fluff, and when a drama breaks through restrictions, they find it fresh and thrilling.

If such dramas became common, audiences would find them ordinary—that's the principle of rarity increasing value.

So now, European and American dramas fill this gap: when audiences can't see content that breaks restrictions, can't see explicit, explosive material, or political allegories, they turn to European and American dramas.

If we implement pre-review before broadcast, many overseas dramas won't be able to air—this would be a major reshuffling of the entire film and television streaming platform.

Either way, BAT will suffer losses—it's just a question of how much; Chang'e Video rarely imports overseas dramas and suffers almost no loss.

The reporters skipped this topic and asked a gossip question: "Principal, Liu Tianxian hasn't appeared in public for so long—is she pregnant?"

"No, she's just playing around," Fang Hong replied plainly this time.

Saying this, he left with Tong Gang and the others, ending the interview.

(End of Chapter)