Chapter 642: Learn to Share

"Only Shen Teng in Goodbye Mr. Loser is any good; he previously starred in Dying to Survive, but everyone else is unknown—can't compare to Operation Mekong."

"So there's no need to pay attention to Operation Mekong."

"Moreover, movie promotions constantly attack each other, all suspected of using rival comparisons to generate buzz—just creating topics."

"This is very common: if your own movie has no inherent topic, you need to drag your opponent into comparison and brutally denigrate them to elevate yourself."

"Everyone plays this game, so generally, well-known movies just ignore it."

"Every release window has competition; everyone claims their movie is being squeezed out, gets fewer showings, positioning themselves as the underdog to win sympathy."

"Domestic film market enters a heated competition period, while abroad, Inside Out will also launch globally on October 6."

"It's rolling out in batches: first in North America, then Australia and other European countries."

"For this movie, Yutu only listed its English production name, set up a subsidiary in the United States as co-producer, and handed full distribution to Universal."

"If you don't set up a subsidiary overseas, taxes are too high—this was exactly the case with Big Hero 6."

"Monster Hunt, after two months of screening, officially ended its run—from July 16 to September 16, grossing a total of 2.436 billion yuan."

"Though it didn't surpass Gravity, it became the second-highest-grossing Chinese-language film in history, exceeding Transformers 4."

"Actually, this proves nothing except that domestic films have risen—this year, Chinese cinema overwhelmed Hollywood, which is already worthy of praise."

"As for whether it made money, when Jiang Zhiqiang came to observe the filming, Fang Hong asked him: 'Did Monster Hunt really make money?'"

"'It's already made money,' Jiang Zhiqiang said."

"'What do you mean?' Fang Hong asked."

"'Half the shares of Monster Hunt 2 have already been sold,' Jiang Zhiqiang smiled."

"This old fox is also using financial tactics—using this film to build a reputation, establish an IP, create influence, and plan the next installment."

"Then he treats the next film as a financial product and sells shares to capital investors."

"Those investors, seeing such high box office, each chip in tens of millions—ten investors easily add up to hundreds of millions."

"Later, this film ended up with over a dozen production companies."

"In this way, the losses from Monster Hunt 1 were truly recovered, and this film wasn't really a loss anyway—it always had a large portion of real box office."

"Plus royalties, merchandise, game licensing, and more."

"But capital isn't stupid—who knows if your film will really hit such high box office or make that much money?"

"So there must be either a bet or a guaranteed minimum—some capital is willing to guarantee distribution, bearing potential losses."

"'Did someone guarantee a minimum for you?' Fang Hong guessed someone must have."

"'Yes, to kickstart IP development for the next film, Hengdian guaranteed a minimum of 900 million yuan,' Jiang Zhiqiang didn't hide it—because the Principal is his peer, not an ordinary person."

"A 900-million-yuan guarantee, at a 40% revenue split, means the distributor must pay 360 million yuan upfront to the producer—effectively covering the production cost, so the producer doesn't lose."

"This process doesn't involve film taxes or film development funds, since it never hit theaters, so the ratio is higher."

"Hengdian is essentially betting that Monster Hunt 2 will exceed 900 million yuan—if so, they get 60% of the split."

"The guaranteed portion is the excess—anything above 900 million is split 60% to the guaranteed distributor."

"In the original timeline, this film grossed about 2.2 billion yuan—so at distribution, it's 2.2 billion minus the previous 900 million, meaning 1.3 billion, of which Hengdian gets 60%."

"That's 780 million yuan—ignoring taxes and theater splits, that's roughly the logic."

"As a giant, Hengdian can suppress theater splits to very low levels, and still profit from its 40% investment share plus distribution revenue—it's a winning bet."

"This kind of game is only playable by giants and big capital—few can suddenly put up hundreds of millions to guarantee production costs."

"Anyway, after this series of financial maneuvers, Monster Hunt is definitely not losing—it's definitely making money."

"As for who lost? Obviously the audience—they provided the box office and buzz."

"'Actually, Principal, you could play this game too—you've never misjudged anything,' Jiang Zhiqiang said."

"'Me? I'm afraid I'll misread it,' Fang Hong said."

"He knew perfectly well that as a reincarnated person, playing this game was effortless win after win—and he didn't even need to sweat over filming."

"Let others film—he just buys the rights and makes money."

"But that's too hollow—like the United States, hollowed out with no manufacturing capacity."

"He still wanted to build things properly, from start to finish."

"'True enough—everyone misreads sometimes. At least when you make it yourself, you know what the film is really like,' Jiang Zhiqiang smiled."

"Many investors don't even know what a film is—they just follow whoever can carry box office, using the project as a gimmick to sucker peripheral investors."

"That is, those old men and women."

"At this moment, the crew was filming Liu Tianxian planting potatoes—the scene where she tries to survive on Mars."

"The plot: after treating the wound on her abdomen and resting for three days, with limited supplies on the base, she had to figure out how to extend her survival time."

"On one hand, she must try to contact the Space Administration—or at least make them aware she's still alive—so they can launch a rescue."

"On the other hand, after this space expedition, another Mars mission is scheduled in four years."

"Meaning even if the Space Administration fails to detect her survival, she must endure for four years until the next mission arrives."

"But enduring four years is no easy feat."

"The original supply plan was for six people for 31 days, so the Space Administration prepared 68 days' rations, with evacuation planned for day 18 on Mars."

"That means the base still had 50 days' rations for six people—so for one person, that's 300 days; if she saves carefully, 400 days should be fine."

"But 400 days is still a huge gap from four years."

"Now Liu Tianxian's dilemma is how to gather enough rations for the remaining three years—when she noticed the Space Administration had prepared potatoes."

"And as she pulled up her pants after using the toilet, she glanced at the thick-shell crab in the toilet bowl—and had a sudden idea."

"Isn't this the best fertilizer?"

"This toilet scene revealed nothing—she just made a motion of pulling up her pants, and the camera never focused on the toilet bowl—there was actually nothing inside."

"It was merely an implication for the audience."

Thus, Liu Tianxian put on her spacesuit and went outside to the feces pool to transport the "feces" back to the base.

The feces in the pool were all individually vacuum-sealed, not like Earth's open sewage pits—each deposit was immediately vacuum-sealed after use.

Because Mars and Earth have different environments and gravities, without vacuum sealing, the environment would kill the microbes and prevent recycling—every possible scenario for space travel had been considered.

Additionally, to avoid contaminating the limited space, since Mars's atmosphere is extremely thin and air doesn't circulate, sealing prevents odors from spreading.

Then there's the soil issue—they would definitely need Martian soil; mixed with feces, it becomes nutrient-rich soil.

So Liu Tianxian picked up a shovel, wore her spacesuit, and dug the soil one shovelful at a time, then loaded it into baskets and transported it back to the base.

When she finished all this, she was breathless with exhaustion; after gulping down a large drink of water, she couldn't help muttering: "Fuck Mars!"

Fang Hong had taught her to say that—ordinary people in such situations always curse.

It highlighted the character's genuine nature, her down-to-earth humanity.

At this moment, Liu Tianxian had tissue stuffed in both nostrils, wore gloves, and poured bag after bag of feces into an iron barrel, then stirred it with a wooden paddle.

"Ugh!" Liu Tianxian felt nauseated.

"Tianxian, not realistic—you need to feel that urge to vomit," Shen Ao said from behind the monitor.

"Yes, Director. I'll try again," Liu Tianxian said—whomever sat there was the director, regardless of whether they were assistant or lead.

Shen Ao was in charge of filming; Fang Hong merely observed.

Liu Tianxian adjusted her state, recalled the sensation of vomiting, and made another "Ugh!" motion.

As she did, a wave of nausea surged in her chest; she bent over, clutching her chest, repeatedly gagging as if she were about to vomit—seemingly extremely nauseated.

"That's a bit too much!" Shen Ao looked at Fang Hong.

"It is a bit too much," Fang Hong nodded, agreeing the reaction was excessive—just a natural, subtle gagging motion would suffice.

"Tianxian, you're overacting."

"Sorry, Director."

Before Shen Ao could finish, Liu Tianxian waved him off and hurried toward the restroom nearby.

It was a temporary restroom built by the crew—clean enough.

Seeing Liu Tianxian run off, the crew stopped working.

Fang Hong was puzzled; he walked over to the iron barrel and peered inside: "Is the feces real?"

"Fake," the prop master explained. "Synthesized from special materials—no odor—but the appearance is poor."

He continued: "Sister Yifei probably reacted to the color. Maybe we should switch it out."

"No," Fang Hong said. "If we replace it, we can't shoot the shot."

The barrel had only a fleeting glimpse on camera—on the big screen, it wouldn't cause discomfort, since it lasted just an instant, likely too brief to clearly see.

But watching it repeatedly on set still made people feel uneasy, since the color looked exactly like shit.

Shen Ao listened to the situation but said nothing.

After learning the details, Fang Hong told the crew to stay put and went to find Liu Tianxian, just as he saw her wiping her mouth with tissue under her Assistant's care—clearly having vomited.

Fang Hong stepped forward: "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Liu Tianxian said, drinking water handed to her by her Assistant to suppress the nausea.

"What caused it? Did you see that thing?" Fang Hong meant "Aoliwei!"

"No," she said. "I know it's not real, and there's no odor—I can overcome it mentally. It's just my body reacting, feeling nauseated, wanting to throw up." She patted her chest.

"Did you eat something bad? Should I get medical staff to check you?" Fang Hong patted her back.

"I'm fine now," she said. "I can keep shooting. So many people are waiting—delaying would be bad." She gestured toward the set.

Fang Hong saw her complexion was normal, so he nodded and said: "Alright!"

After all, the entire production revolved around Liu Tianxian's scenes—no other actors had roles; if she didn't shoot, filming had to halt.

The two walked to the set; Liu Tianxian told Shen Ao: "Let's continue. I'm fine."

"Okay!" Shen Ao had no objections.

The crew resumed positions; Liu Tianxian recalled the earlier nausea, restrained her gagging motion, and didn't overdo it.

This time, it was much better—passed on the first take.

The rest of the day's filming went smoothly for Liu Tianxian—no further discomfort, just normal shooting.

The plot required a scene change after planting potatoes: the setting became a greenhouse-style structure, surrounded by transparent film.

The protagonist now faced a new problem: growing potatoes required massive amounts of water; digging on Mars was unrealistic—she had to manufacture it herself.

Water's chemical composition was simple: hydrogen plus oxygen produced water.

Oxygen was easy to solve—the Huoxing Jidi Oxygenator continuously converted oxygen from Mars's atmosphere.

But hydrogen was hard to obtain; the protagonist thought to use hydrazine fuel to extract large quantities of hydrogen—once she had both hydrogen and oxygen, she could produce water.

With hydrogen and oxygen secured, she needed fuel.

Space exploration feared fire above all; Huoxing Jidi was fireproof. Liu Tianxian remembered her teammate had brought a wooden frame—something highly flammable.

Next came ignition—a scene involving an explosion that would blast Liu Tianxian away.

This required scene setup: first film all other daily-life scenes, then shoot this one.

The day's filming was completed—no overtime needed; everything wrapped up as scheduled.

There were no night scenes—night on Mars was still extremely dangerous.

That night, Fang Hong lay in bed reviewing the shooting schedule. When he finished reading and still hadn't seen Liu Tianxian return, he grew curious and walked to the restroom door.

He knocked three times: "Dong Dongdong." Then called out: "You've been in there for hours—what are you doing?"

"Squeak!" Liu Tianxian opened the door and stepped out, fixing him with a gaze full of unspoken meaning.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Fang Hong asked, puzzled.

Liu Tianxian remained silent, handing him a device that looked like a thermometer.

"What's this?" Fang Hong was utterly confused.

"You're dumb, don't you see? Two lines." Liu Tianxian pointed at the object.

Fang Hong looked again at the thing in his hand, as if realizing something, his pupils dilated, staring at her in disbelief.

Liu Tianxian's previously serious expression gradually broke into a smile, growing softer with each laugh.

"Wahahaha!"

Fang Hong suddenly burst into laughter, excitedly scooping her up and lifting her high, spinning her around several times in his joy.

"Hey, put me down, I'm dizzy!" Liu Tianxian smiled as she watched the man's delight—she was happy too.

But she had already been in the bathroom long enough, had already felt her joy and excitement, and remained relatively calm.

"Yes, yes, don't hurt you."

Fang Hong, overexcited, quickly set her down and asked carefully: "Am I going to be a father?"

"Yes!"

Liu Tianxian's lips curled upward, brimming with joy.

She had been paying close attention to her body—the vomiting during the day, plus the absence of her period this past while—she had already been fairly certain.

After all, information is abundant now; she often read books about pregnancy and searched for related materials.

With that mental preparation, she naturally noticed these kinds of signs.

Hearing this definitive answer, Fang Hong's emotions surged uncontrollably; he rubbed his hands hard, wanting to do something, took two steps, then turned back, unsure what to do.

Liu Tianxian saw his flustered state, grabbed his hand and asked: "What are you doing?"

"I don't know what I'm doing—I really want to do something right now, but I don't know what." Fang Hong spoke a little clumsily, but his mind was truly chaotic—he wanted to tell someone this news, but didn't know who, and was utterly confused.

"What you should do right now is tell our mom the news. Learn to share, right?" Liu Tianxian playfully gave him a task.

"Yes, yes."

Fang Hong snapped his fingers, hurried to the bedside to grab his phone, then suddenly remembered something and turned around again.

This turn nearly knocked into Liu Tianxian, who had been right behind him.

"Do I tell your mom or my mom?" Fang Hong seemed to have lost his sense of direction.

"Tell your mom first, then mine," Liu Tianxian replied—right now, her husband needed guidance.

Hearing the clear answer, Fang Hong truly picked up the phone and called Xu Liyun. The call connected quickly, and he only said: "Mom."

"Son, why are you calling so late?" Xu Liyun had already gone to bed.

"I—I have some news to tell you," Fang Hong stammered, clearly still overwhelmed, not yet calmed down.

"What news? Take your time and tell me," Xu Liyun said, her heart tightening at her son's unusual tone.

She feared hearing bad news.

"Xixi is pregnant," Fang Hong blurted out in one breath.

Liu Tianxian stood beside him, smiling.

"Really?!" Xu Liyun sat straight up in bed, swift and sudden.

"Yes, Xixi said so," Fang Hong replied.

"That's good, that's good," Xu Liyun said, throwing off the covers and getting out of bed, pacing around the room—shocked and thrilled.

"Where's Xixi? Is she next to you? Let me talk to her," she said, her voice trembling with excitement.

Fang Hong placed the phone against Liu Tianxian's ear.

"I'm here, Mom," Liu Tianxian said.

"Xixi, how are you feeling now? Take care of your body—no strenuous exercise, no overexertion," Xu Liyun said, concerned, unsure what else to say, as if these were the only words she could offer.

"I know, Mom, I'm fine, don't worry," Liu Tianxian replied.

"I still can't relax—why not stop filming? Let Honghong replace you. Come home and rest," Xu Liyun said, excited but uneasy.

"That won't work—if I stop, all the efforts of thousands in the crew will be wasted, all the footage shot so far becomes useless, the schedule will be delayed, and a lot of money will be lost," Liu Tianxian explained.

If she quit, every single frame filmed up to now would be unusable.

"But you're pregnant—resting is more important. Let Honghong handle it—we don't care about the money," Xu Liyun declared, acting bold for once in her life!

This put Liu Tianxian in a bind—it wasn't that money was an issue, but this was her beloved work; she couldn't refuse too bluntly, since Xu Liyun wasn't her own mother.

She turned her gaze toward Fang Hong, hoping he would intervene.

"Pregnancy doesn't mean you can't move. How can you say all those people's efforts are wasted?" Fang Hong regained some clarity—this was hard to explain, so he had to bluntly refuse.

No matter how he explained it, the baby mattered most, everything else didn't—there was no convincing argument, so he had to be the bad guy.

Of course, he sided with his mother and secretly wanted Liu Tianxian to return home to rest—but he knew very well how much she loved this career, and that she absolutely had to finish the film before settling down.

Besides, Liu Tianxian was currently full of energy; forcing her to return home was impossible—best he could do was remind her to be careful.

"Child, what are you saying? A film can't be more important than a child," Xu Liyun scolded.

"Mom, this film will be over in one or two months—it won't delay anything. I have an Assistant to take care of me, it's fine," Liu Tianxian soothed her mother-in-law, knowing Fang Hong was shielding her, playing the villain on purpose.

This was also why their mother-daughter-in-law relationship had always been good—at least Fang Hong always stood by her, thinking of her.

Of course, this wasn't a matter of principle—she wasn't showing yet, so what was wrong with filming?

By the time she showed, the film would be finished anyway—it was all planned.

"But who else can take care of you properly? Maybe I'll come over tomorrow to look after you," Xu Liyun retreated to a secondary suggestion, the topic having shifted.

"It's so far away—I'm worried you'll be too tired coming all this way," Liu Tianxian replied gently, refusing outright would have been too harsh.

Of course, her mother-in-law coming wasn't impossible—she'd just need more soup daily, and her living conditions would improve greatly.

But if the crew found out she was pregnant, it would disrupt filming.

(End of Chapter)