Chapter 636: Enormous Lineup

The listing of Tu Piaopiao has an impact on today's film market, indicating that Tu Piaopiao now has a large sum of capital.

Every subsequent move will affect the ticketing market and the structure of the film industry.

Of course, the 9.9 and 19.9 yuan ticket subsidies will continue, because the ticketing market remains fiercely competitive, with all sides still fighting for market share through burning cash.

If you don't burn cash, you'll easily lose market share—you must burn out all competitors so users have no choice.

But now there are only a few major ticketing platforms: Tencent's Wepiao, leveraging WeChat and QQ's social entry points, holds roughly 15% of the market share.

Feeling pressure from Tu Piaopiao, Wepiao announced its merger with Gewara to cover high-end users.

Gewara has broad coverage in the Yangtze River Delta, previously focusing heavily on that region, and has repeatedly partnered with and been designated by the Shanghai Film Festival.

Thus, its user base consists mainly of first- and second-tier city customers; Tencent's acquisition of it fills this gap.

But as previously mentioned, Wepiao holds low strategic importance within Tencent's large-scale entertainment division, as they've poured most resources into music.

This led to insufficient investment in Wepiao, excluding it from Tencent's entertainment ecosystem, causing its decline.

This is the focus of every company—under limited resources and capital, you can only prioritize one area.

No one's strength can cover everything.

Fang Hong can't cover everything either—he's still frequently sued over music and Bilibili content.

Baidu Nuomi is also weak, relying on Search and Maps traffic, but they prioritize iQiyi.

If iQiyi can't afford to burn cash, how could it invest heavily in Baidu Nuomi?

The most powerful competitor remains Tao Piaopiao; seeing Tu Piaopiao's listing, Ali Pictures launched a series of moves, initiating its first self-controlled film, The Ferryman.

This move marks its official entry into film production.

But this script was probably written by Big Data—otherwise it wouldn't be so terrible.

It then reached a strategic partnership with Spielberg's Amblin Entertainment to jointly develop and invest in films targeting the global market, promoting content internationalization!

It later spun off its online ticketing platform "Taobao Movies," also known as Tao Piaopiao, launched its Series A funding round, and achieved a valuation exceeding ten billion yuan.

This provides funding to compete with Tu Piaopiao and other ticketing platforms.

It also established the Entertainment Treasure platform, which raises film funding through fans—crowdfunding movies, in plain terms, sharing risk and exploiting fans.

Films are different from other products—they still depend on the film's own quality; if it's bad, audiences simply won't watch.

You can't force an audience member to watch or not watch.

Alibaba also integrated Ali Cloud—cloud computing—as well as Youku and Tmall merchandise sales.

It aims to build a full industrial chain ecosystem of Internet + film and television.

Alibaba may not have done as well as Tencent in large-scale entertainment overall, but in film, it is undoubtedly the most successful.

It has participated in producing many later well-known films, such as The Wandering Earth 2, Operation Red Sea, Hi, Mom, and the Creation of the Gods series.

Basically, every year's breakout film has Alibaba's involvement—Tencent lags far behind in this area.

As for other ticketing platforms, like Mtime, they are either dying, dispersing, or falling silent.

No one can withstand such massive cash burning.

Tu Piaopiao's listing wasn't idle—it began its acquisition journey, planning to buy Damai.

Damai is a ticketing platform covering niche markets such as concerts, music festivals, theater, and sports events.

It has signed ticket agency agreements with the CBA, Chinese Super League, and Midi Music Festival, holding 70% of the entertainment ticketing market share, absolutely number one in this segment.

It is also the organizer and planner of concerts and theater events, holding content copyright.

For example, when a celebrity holds a concert, the copyright belongs to the organizer—that's also a domain of content copyright competition.

If Tu Piaopiao acquires it, it will perfectly fill the gap in Tu Piaopiao's non-film ticketing market, as Tu Piaopiao previously wanted to develop concert and sports event sectors.

But it never took off—plainly, resources were limited.

Now that it's listed, things are different—it holds nearly six billion yuan, including the two billion previously given by Yutu and Chang'e.

With such a large sum, acquiring Damai is more than sufficient; although Damai excels in its niche, it's still in development, worth at most one or two hundred million U. S. dollars.

Fang Hong and Liu Tianxian had not yet left Hong Kong but were invited by CCTV Finance reporter Hou Kaidi for an interview.

Other reporters couldn't get access, but CCTV still could.

CCTV has a branch in Hong Kong, located at the Tsim Sha Tsui waterfront, facing Causeway Bay across the water.

Yes, that Causeway Bay—the one where Chen Haonan is the boss.

In a studio, Liu Tianxian stood behind the camera, arms crossed, watching their interview.

This was a finance interview, unrelated to her professional role, so she had nothing to do with it.

Fang Hong's hair gleamed with oil, looking very formal; he sat side by side with CCTV reporter Hou Kaidi facing the camera.

Hou Kaidi wore a blue business suit, had short hair, and looked efficient.

But her long face lacked attractiveness.

Lights shone above their heads; Hou Kaidi asked: "Regarding Tu Piaopiao's stock price falling below its offering price, had you considered this possibility?"

"Stock listings always have ups and downs—that's normal. Investors should focus on the long term; long-term returns are guaranteed," Fang Hong replied calmly.

Hou Kaidi crossed her legs and asked again: "What do you think Tu Piaopiao's future valuation could reach?"

"It depends on operational performance. Tu Piaopiao has maintained high growth for several consecutive years—up 50% compared to last year. Last year's transaction volume was 15 billion yuan; this year it has surpassed 22.5 billion yuan, with over 60 million monthly active users and coverage of more than 8,000 cinemas nationwide, accounting for over 90% of all cinemas.

As long as we maintain continuous growth and aren't defeated, investors and shareholders will certainly see returns."

Fang Hong still wanted to instill market confidence.

After all, Tu Piaopiao still needs to grow—it's not all settled just because it's listed.

Listing is just the beginning, not a guarantee of safety.

Hou Kaidi asked: "How do you position Tu Piaopiao—is it an Internet company, a film and culture company, or an e-commerce company?"

"All of them. It's a company that empowers films and makes buying movie tickets more convenient," Fang Hong replied conventionally.

Hou Kaidi asked: "At age 27, you're already chairman of three companies—you've achieved financial freedom and great success. What are your future goals?"

First, let me clarify: I'm not financially free—I'm still in the struggle phase. Financial freedom means you never worry about money, can do whatever you want, and can say "no" to anyone just because you feel like it.

I think that's true financial freedom. I have wealth, but I'm not free—my current business and wealth still aren't enough to let me say "no" to others with absolute certainty!" Fang Hong explained.

Outside, Liu Tianxian listened to his words and felt deeply moved.

Indeed, given the current situation, her man still wasn't financially free—there were too many competitors out there.

For her man to suppress those people, he had to keep growing stronger; if he didn't, he'd face fierce backlash at any moment.

"If you ask about goals, I don't really have any—I just want to do well with what I already have. It's already very hard for one person to do one thing well."

Fang Hong had always been doing exactly what he already had.

All his industries revolved around film and television content—promotion, distribution platforms—nothing else.

But you can't avoid doing these things; the era is about competition, not the early 2000s when coal bosses ruled—back then, if your work was good, that was enough. Everyone was in the pioneering stage, and there weren't many conflicts.

Back then, it was just people arguing over whose box office was better; no one had the power to blacklist, and those with real ability still broke through, because the market was diversified.

Now it's different—this is the realm of capital, and things must be integrated, done according to others' will.

What is their will? Traffic, pandering, flattery. You don't need your own thoughts—just follow orders.

Like those traffic-driven young idols, even Lao Mouzi now faces awkward situations.

You think he wanted to make The Great Wall? That was a compromise; The Red Cliff was just about making money—that's what he wanted to say but held back.

He said: "Technical methods are undoubtedly important, but in commercial films, the ultimate goal is still…"

He stopped there—clearly meaning "making money!"

Liu Haocun? That's about personal connections—otherwise, she wouldn't have been pushed so hard.

Aside from Gong Huang, very few "Mao Girls" have starred in Lao Mouzi's second film—Liu Haocun is practically an exception.

Even deified figures with glory can't escape capital's grip—if Fang Hong kept making movies, he'd be nothing at all.

Even if Fang Hong was brilliant at filmmaking, he couldn't outshine Lao Mouzi—who's won all three European Big Three awards, even if not always the top prize, he's won them all.

His record is unquestionably number one in Asia.

Hou Kaidi asked again: "You're so young—don't you want to start another business? Like building cars? This year, car manufacturing is extremely hot; everyone's pouring money into it."

This year is the "Year of Car Manufacturing"—driven by policy, five hundred new car companies emerged at once; you can imagine how hot it was.

Car manufacturing is different from other industries—you can't even think about it without investing tens of billions.

Tens of billions is just the bare minimum threshold.

"Heh." Fang Hong smiled. "Too late—I think if I enter now, it's already too late."

"How can that be? This trend has just begun," Hou Kaidi said in surprise.

"Car manufacturing is different from other things—other products might fail, but it won't kill you; if a car fails, it's a major disaster, risking lives. It's not enough to just have money—you need time."

If you don't spend ten or twenty years refining your three-electric systems and safety, developing your own technology, and just rely on mature industry components to assemble cars, that's unacceptable—anyone can do that.

Cars still depend on technology and safety—and both require time, not just money.

Also, electric vehicles can overturn some concepts of fuel cars—we now call a five- or ten-second acceleration in a fuel car "luxury."

Electric cars are fast—they have higher energy conversion efficiency. In the future, five-second acceleration will be ordinary, but you can't guarantee every driver stays fully alert. When they're distracted, how will your car ensure their safety? That's what matters most," Fang Hong said.

Hou Kaidi asked: "So you mean, in the future, super-fast electric cars will be cheap?"

"Yes. As the industry chain develops, future electric cars will have million- or even ten-million-yuan luxury configurations—fifty million yuan for a two-second acceleration, I think prices will drop to that level," Fang Hong nodded.

This shocked Hou Kaidi—two-second acceleration luxury cars were Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Porsches, all costing millions.

And two seconds was track-level performance.

A fifty-million-yuan race car sounded like fantasy.

"People often equate 'speed' with a car's performance, as if it's a luxury standard feature—but 'speed' means higher accident rates.

Like race cars—they never drive on public roads. They're towed to the track before being driven. What kind of car drives on what kind of road.

When a car's performance is too high, mass-market adoption isn't a good thing—many drivers lack the ability to control it. This isn't about skill or not.

If you put a professional race driver on the road and tell him to hit 200 km/h, he won't dare—he knows an accident can happen in one or two seconds, or even milliseconds. No one can react in time. So professional drivers only dare to race on specific tracks. Ordinary people? Even less so.

Actually, many people just want stimulation, to experience that acceleration thrill—they've never felt it, so they want to try. I suggest the state prepare in advance: no car on public roads should accelerate under five seconds, and top speed must not exceed 200 km/h."

Fang Hong's later remarks seemed ordinary to some, but his claim that two-second acceleration cars could be affordable seemed like fantasy.

Such cars were beyond what most people could even imagine.

But no carmakers took his words seriously—until ten years later, when a certain car's accident rate became too high, Wangyi and the media dug them up again.

They called Principal "The Prophet!"

But by then, Fang Hong had already retired from the scene. Though he was gone, legends of him still circulated.

Because his words had become prophecy posts.

In truth, electric cars have advantages over fuel cars—that's a fact, but new things inevitably face skepticism.

Burning happens in any car—oil or electric. But oil cars have been developed for years and are now mature, greatly avoiding such incidents.

People are used to it, and the rate is low.

But electric cars have only been developing for a few years—they're still in the exploratory stage, with many technologies still being explored. They need time.

This interview will air on CCTV—it's just an ordinary segment, discussing the issue of ticket prices crashing and his future thoughts.

Since it lacks entertainment value, few people will enjoy watching it. After the interview ended, the two greeted Hou Kaidi and left.

Liu Tianxian asked: "Were all those things you said true?"

"Yes. Anything new inevitably has problems—it's like you stars—you must endure insults and doubt during your rise. Car manufacturing is the same—there will be many issues at first," Fang Hong said.

Liu Tianxian nodded vaguely. "So will you build cars?"

"No. I can't handle this," Fang Hong only wanted to get his existing things right.

Hearing this, Liu Tianxian stopped pressing. "Oh, General Manager Jiang just called—he wants to meet us."

"Why?" Fang Hong asked, puzzled.

"I don't know. He said he wants to take us to meet someone," said Liu Tianxian.

"Then let's meet!" Fang Hong suspected something was up.

Edko Films is in the Hopewell Centre in Wan Chai, requiring a crossing through the tunnel under the harbor to the other side, just next to Causeway Bay.

The journey wasn't far—they arrived in about half an hour.

At the Edko Films building, Jiang Zhiqiang came down personally to greet them, accompanied by another man: Liu Tianwang.

"Principal, congratulations on Yutu Pictures going public!" Jiang Zhiqiang stepped forward as the two from the business vehicle got out.

"Congratulations? It opened below par." Fang Hong feigned helplessness.

The building wasn't impressive—it looked old and worn, and the space was small, far smaller than his film base.

"The drop is only temporary; it's bounced back already," Jiang Zhiqiang laughed.

"Good thing it bounced back—if it hadn't, I'd have been worried to death. He just did an interview with a CCTV reporter, who asked about it," said Liu Tianxian.

Liu Tianwang, seeing them chat warmly, said nothing, quietly smiling as he waited for them to finish.

Jiang Zhiqiang smiled and gestured to introduce: "I don't need to introduce him—you all know him."

"I know him. I'm even his fan," Fang Hong reached out and shook his hand.

That "fan" remark wasn't to be taken seriously—they'd met a few times before, but Fang Hong had never chatted warmly with Liu Tianwang.

Only after Jiang Zhiqiang's introduction did things become a bit warmer.

"I'm also a fan of yours, Principal," Liu Tianwang flattered.

"Let's be mutual fans," Fang Hong said.

"Let's go inside and talk, not here," Jiang Zhiqiang gestured toward his office.

Fang Hong and Liu Tianxian exchanged a glance and followed him in—they suspected something was up, otherwise why bring Liu Tianwang along?

Liu Tianwang and Jiang Zhiqiang had a close relationship, the kind who could joke freely with each other, and had collaborated multiple times, such as on Storm and The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.

Liu Tianwang often willingly took cameos in Jiang's films, like My Special Agent Grandpa and the previous Cold War—both produced by Jiang Zhiqiang, with Liu Tianwang appearing in cameos.

These two were both deeply entangled in personal connections; it was natural they ended up together.

In The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, there's a scene where the boss who blocks the producer's funding is Jiang Zhiqiang.

In an office, the room felt old-fashioned, steeped in an artistic atmosphere.

The four sat together; after tea was served, Jiang Zhiqiang got straight to the point: "Principal, I'm sorry to bother you, but Dehua wants to join your film The Martian."

This surprised Liu Tianxian—Liu Tianwang joining? Then what about her? This film had only one lead.

Would someone of Liu Tianwang's stature agree to a supporting role?

"My film has no male or female leads—only one protagonist. His stature makes it unsuitable," Fang Hong was also surprised.

Meaning: if Liu Tianwang joined, he'd only be a supporting actor.

"I don't want the lead. Just appearing in it would be an honor," Liu Tianwang said.

"Oh, I see."

This made it hard for Fang Hong to refuse outright—someone of his stature wouldn't settle for just a cameo.

"To be honest, I feel awkward bringing this up, but Jiang General Manager mentioned this film to me, and I personally really want to be part of it. So I asked Jiang to help introduce me. Of course, if the roles are already locked, then forget it—we can collaborate next time," Liu Tianwang said, sensing Fang Hong's hesitation, and showing great tact.

By saying "personally," he meant he didn't want Jiang Zhiqiang to be put on the spot—his emotional intelligence was high.

He'd heard Jiang Zhiqiang mention this film: a Universal and Yutu Pictures international blockbuster, set for global release, with a larger cast than Gravity.

They'd hired Matt Damon and Jessica Chastain—Hollywood's top male and female stars—to play supporting roles for Liu Tianxian.

What was he compared to that caliber?

But Jiang Zhiqiang had hinted the script was excellent—acting in it wouldn't be a waste, since it was aimed squarely at the International Market.

Plus, his reputation over the past two years had suffered badly from bad films—he needed to rebuild it.

(End of Chapter)