Chapter 657: Forming a Monopoly

In early November, Beijing already carried a chill; outside, autumn rain was falling, the drops scattering against the floor-to-ceiling glass like countless glistening pearls, blurring the view into a hazy wash.

Ginkgo leaves drifted down along with it, as if Beijing had been carpeted in gold.

The two had been chatting just fine, nothing special, ordinary conversation, when Liu Tianxian burst into tears for no apparent reason.

Xu Liyun brought over some pastries, saw Liu Tianxian crying, hurried over, set the pastries on the coffee table, and asked with heartache, "Why are you crying?"

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and questioned her son: "Did you make her cry? Can't you just indulge her a little?"

"I didn't!" Fang Hong protested, deeply wronged.

"You didn't? Then why is she crying?" Xu Liyun sided with Liu Tianxian without even hearing him out.

This left Fang Hong quite helpless. Ever since Liu Tianxian got pregnant, his status had plummeted without limit — not even as good as Heizi's. Heizi, ears deaf to the world outside, was perfectly at ease.

"It's not like that, Mom. I just thought of something sad and felt like crying." Liu Tianxian dabbed at her tears and returned to normal.

"Whatever's weighing on you, just say it. Don't bottle it up." Xu Liyun's face shifted to a kind, gentle look as she sat on Liu Tianxian's other side and patted her back soothingly.

"It's nothing, really. There's this award ceremony — it's to give Fang Hong an award. Last time he didn't win, and I thought, if he still doesn't win this time, how upset must he feel inside? When he's upset, I feel upset with him." Liu Tianxian explained the reason.

Anyway, she didn't even know why she was crying — a vague sense of grievance was enough to make her want to cry.

"That's all? Just make sure he wins it then." Xu Liyun said it casually, as if it were her own family's affair.

She didn't even bother to ask what award it was.

"Mm, that's easy to say, but it's hard too." Liu Tianxian said.

Xu Liyun looked at her son. "Son, you'll win it, right?"

"Probably, I guess." Fang Hong didn't know himself whether he would.

"Not 'probably' — definitely. Let Xixi be happy." Xu Liyun issued her order.

Fang Hong didn't want to argue and nodded, saying "Yes."

There was no way to communicate with them anymore — one was pregnant and occasionally brainless, the other had her entire brain on the pregnant person.

Liu Tianxian glanced at Fang Hong, feeling that her mother-in-law had also been dragged into brainlessness by her.

"Stop crying. When you cry, the baby in your belly will feel it and be unhappy too." Xu Liyun comforted Liu Tianxian.

"Mm, mm." Liu Tianxian thought that made sense.

"Be more considerate of Xixi." Xu Liyun patted her son's hand — she still knew Liu Tianxian's emotions were unstable.

Fang Hong said "Okay," eager to move past the topic.

Xu Liyun picked up a pastry from the coffee table and handed it to Liu Tianxian, saying: "Here, don't you like sweets? I made these pastries specially for you."

"Thank you, Mom." Liu Tianxian took it and ate, her face returning to normal.

Lately she had just been craving sweets.

The three chatted. Generally it was Xu Liyun and Liu Tianxian talking — about parenting tips — while Fang Hong listened on the side, with no room to chime in.

After Xu Liyun finished talking and left, Liu Tianxian couldn't help but let out a "pfft" and burst out laughing.

"You, crying one moment and laughing the next — so mood-swingy." Fang Hong teased.

"No way, I just found it both sad and funny, that's all. What, you can't handle it?" Liu Tianxian draped an arm over his shoulder and leaned closer.

"I can handle it. It's just different from your usual temperament." Fang Hong tilted his head to look at her.

"What was I like before?" Liu Tianxian asked.

"Before, you were elegant and generous, dignified and composed." Fang Hong said.

"And what am I like now?" Liu Tianxian asked again, intrigued.

"Now, you are elegant and generous, dignified and composed." Fang Hong played it clever.

"Hey, you smooth talker." Liu Tianxian patted his head, picked up a pastry, and popped it into his mouth.

"My head was already plenty smooth to begin with." Fang Hong said with a hint of suggestiveness.

"Hehehe!" Liu Tianxian laughed, swatted him, and whispered near his ear, breath warm as orchids: "Want me to feel it for you, see if it's really that smooth?"

Her tone carried a teasing lure as she gazed at him.

"Yes, very much so." Fang Hong said at once.

"Sit a little closer." Liu Tianxian wrapped one arm around his body.

"Isn't this a bit risky? What if someone catches us? How about we go inside?" Fang Hong scooted closer; the two pressed more intimately together, feeling her body soft and yielding.

He turned his head to check — no one around. His mother was no longer there; she had gone somewhere else.

"It's fine, Mom's not here." Liu Tianxian was bold as brass, then said softly again: "Hubby, aren't you feeling lonely?"

"Lonely? Very, very lonely." Fang Hong said — it had been two months since they'd done anything.

"Then hasn't that been torturing you?" Liu Tianxian's other hand was like a cat about to steal a bite of fish.

Still, there was some hesitation — this was a first; never before had it been like this. The two had always been fairly conservative.

Fang Hong was wearing loose, casual lounge pants with no belt, so they were easy to pull open.

"Mm! Well, there's nothing to be done — you're not in a position to, so I just have to hold back." Fang Hong's voice was soft and tender.

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Liu Tianxian pulled him closer, adjusted her posture to make things easier.

"You've always been scared, always refused." Fang Hong said.

In this area, Liu Tianxian had always been rather conservative — only the most traditional position was acceptable; she never looked, never touched.

This time was truly unprecedented, but after being together so long, Liu Tianxian wasn't as unable to accept it as she had been at the start.

She was slowly getting used to what she had once found terrifying.

"Xixi, I brought you something." A familiar voice suddenly drifted in from the doorway in the distance.

The voice startled both Fang Hong and Liu Tianxian — their faces filled with panic.

Liu Tianxian's hand shot out at once; she snatched a few tissues from the coffee table, wiped her hand, tucked the tissues into her pocket, and pretended nothing had happened.

Fang Hong was busy too, tying his waistband.

After the two of them finished, they glanced back at the doorway far away — it was facing away, with the line of sight blocked.

Liu Xiaoli was carrying big bags and small bags, changing her shoes, and hadn't noticed this side.

The two turned their heads and looked at each other; Liu Tianxian couldn't help but find it a bit funny, yet also felt a heart-pounding thrill she had never experienced before.

It felt like a secret affair.

Fang Hong also found it very thrilling, his mood hard to settle.

"Xiaofang, come help out here." Liu Xiaoli called from the doorway.

"Okay, Mom, coming." Fang Hong got up.

"Hey, wait a moment." Liu Tianxian waved for him to stop.

Fang Hong asked in confusion: "What's wrong?"

Liu Tianxian said nothing, just tucked his shirt into his waistband — it had been pulled out earlier — and straightened it up.

"Go on!" she said.

Fang Hong walked to the doorway, saw that Liu Xiaoli had bought a lot of things, and couldn't help asking: "Why did you buy so much stuff?"

"Just some fruit and nutritional supplements. A pregnant woman needs to supplement more nutrition, it's good for the baby in the belly." Liu Xiaoli was also fussing over her daughter.

She pointed at a pile of bags on the floor and said: "Carry these in and put them in the fridge."

"Oh, okay!" Fang Hong got to work.

"Xiaofang, why is your face so red?" Liu Xiaoli only now noticed him.

"Just did some exercise earlier." Fang Hong casually explained, then changed the subject: "You go in and rest, I'll handle these."

"Okay!" Liu Xiaoli didn't suspect anything, and went to see her daughter.

And Liu Tianxian acted perfectly normal, not a bit different, just like always.

Inside Out has now been in theaters for four weeks; in its fourth week, North America added 21.8 million dollars, a 30.4% drop from the previous week's 31.3 million dollars.

North America's total box office reached 238 million dollars.

After the fourth week it still maintained weekly revenue above 20 million dollars, reflecting that family audiences continued to come in, and the box office remained steady.

However, the International Market later surged ahead, adding 50 million dollars in the fourth week; international cumulative box office was 327 million dollars, total box office 565 million dollars.

Converted to soft girl coins, that's roughly 4 billion. With such results, the People's Daily specifically posted a Weibo naming it: "A new breakthrough in the level of the Animation Department!"

Such an animated film that caused a huge sensation overseas — of course the media reported on it, just not with much heat.

Since Jade Rabbit didn't send out messages or do any Propaganda Department hype, naturally the buzz wouldn't be that big.

On November 6, Jade Rabbit's film "Ex-Files 2: The Backup Strikes Back" was released. Choosing this slot meant this film had no competitive edge in the upcoming New Year Slot.

This film continued the predecessor's melodrama, being described as "the love history of post-90s Shamate"!

Full of melodramatic, chuunibyou emotional elements!

The box office was also steady — nearly 30 million on opening day, soaring to over 40 million the next day, then dropping again afterward.

While other films like Goodbye Mr. Loser were still in theaters, with daily box office of around a million.

Other films like "Lost in Thailand" and "Saving Mr. Wu," which were released during National Day and Mid-Autumn, basically came out of theaters early.

It's been over a month now — even if they didn't come off the screens, there was no box office left. And next comes entering the Propaganda Department period for the New Year Slot.

This slot is the biggest slot of the year.

Nearly 36 films crowded into this slot for release — Enlight, Bona, Jade Rabbit, Huayi all had multiple films releasing in this slot.

Not only these old-established film companies, but emerging ones like LeEco, Youku, Huace also had multiple films releasing in this slot.

For example "Unexpectedly," "The Incredible," "The Missing Bullet," etc.

Additionally there's "A Thought of Heaven" starring Shen Teng and Ma Li — this was filmed for someone else, finished long ago.

Just taking advantage of the two being hugely popular to release it.

This slot can be said to be a gathering of blockbusters, competition fiercer than previous years. And Jade Rabbit prepared multiple films for this slot: Chronicles of the Ghostly Tribe, Mojin: The Lost Legend, Tangrenjie Tangan, etc.

Additionally there were four more films including "Lucy."

The goal was to surround and block Huayi — using absolute quantity and quality to leave Huayi nowhere to escape. No matter how they staggered their slots, there would be several films waiting for them.

The New Year Slot is only that one stretch of time — they can't run.

Anyway, whether Jade Rabbit makes money or not doesn't matter. Letting Huayi fall here, letting the market know Huayi is already a thing of the past — that is Fang Hong's ultimate goal.

Doing it this way might also squeeze the emerging Youku, LeEco and others to death.

It went back to a few years ago, when Fang Hong competed with Bona and Huayi in this New Year Slot, and not even one film broke a billion.

He was even called in by Zhang Hongsen and given a scolding, told they were fighting too viciously.

As time entered mid-November, it meant New Year Slot films had entered the Propaganda Department period — mutual stepping on each other, mutual hiring of Water Army to smear each other was commonplace.

Including "Lucy" — but since Liu Tianxian wasn't convenient, it was relatively low-key, and no Propaganda Department strategy had come out yet.

But this time it seemed the opponents had gotten smart, not playing by the routine, starting to stigmatize Jade Rabbit in society, as well as the Principal himself.

According to a reporter interviewing an extra: "Being an extra in Jade Rabbit's productions doesn't pay 200 yuan a day, and you can't even get 6,000 a month — it's below that number."

Once this information appeared, public opinion immediately reacted, directly climbing onto Weibo and Baidu's hot search, igniting the topic of public opinion.

#Jade Rabbit Wage Lie! #

The topic of "fake salaries" was like being injected with chicken blood, instantly exploding online. Wangyi were also a bit dazed, but as righteous crusaders, they one after another condemned the capitalists.

"200 a day is fooling ghosts — the group leader takes a cut, it's not like what you imagine, and there's not work every day either. Half a month a month is already pretty good."

"What actually reaches your hand in a month is half off — totally fake!"

"Sure enough, capitalists' tricks are all the same — exploiting employees!"

"Oppression and exploitation — never watching Jade Rabbit's films again, garbage company! Garbage Principal!"

These were all highly upvoted comments. Wangyi are warm-hearted too — as long as they see someone being exploited by capital, they transform into righteous knights.

Actually they're just taking the opportunity to vent the suppressed emotions from work — they don't dare curse in reality, but online they still dare.

This scolding stirred up even more emotions.

Of course, there were rational people who protested.

"Anonymous leaks aren't trustworthy—go check Huandian; a hundred extras is already a lot. Two hundred yuan goes to the group leader as compensation for transportation and organizing delivery to each set—otherwise, who organizes it? Who drives to deliver it?"

"Exactly! It was agreed from the start: two hundred yuan goes to the group leader for organizing transport. That's perfectly reasonable!"

"So what if the pay is low? You don't pay for transportation, and meals are covered as long as you work. Sometimes you even get extra for overtime—it's far better than most film sets, better than working in a factory."

"Are you really going to force this conscientious enterprise to death?" someone shouted.

These voices were drowned out by criticism, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of public condemnation.

Yutu didn't hesitate—it disclosed the pay each extra received, all at least 180 yuan, meaning 20 yuan was deducted.

For more complex roles or specialized jobs, some even earned three, five, or even seven or eight hundred yuan—this was their daily wage.

Names were hidden and crossed out; of course, some questioned their authenticity—people will always say whatever they want about such matters.

Yet as soon as Yutu disclosed the extras' wages, an investment firm called Xueqiu analyzed: "Relying on the high risk of film and television to support wages is unrealistic. Small film crews and small studios cannot afford it and cannot recruit talented personnel. Yutu's actions are destroying the market ecosystem."

This triggered another layer of debate, roughly suggesting that Yutu was paying too much, squeezing the livelihoods of extras at other film bases.

Everyone rushed to Yutu and its partnered sets; other sets couldn't hire anyone—it was all Yutu's fault.

"Big film companies crush small ones with capital, destroying content diversity!"

"If Yutu keeps doing this, production costs for films and TV will rise infinitely, barriers to entry will rise, fresh talent will have no room to compete, and content monopolization will become inevitable," commented a self-proclaimed seasoned filmmaker.

"Content depends only on whether your story is good—not how amazing your special effects are. If the story is good, people will watch, and the market will accept it. Why blame Yutu?" someone countered.

Earlier, they claimed Yutu's pay was fake; now that things turned against them, they immediately shifted to accusing Yutu of monopolization and blocking the rise of small film studios.

They didn't know how many small and medium-sized film studios Fang Hong had supported.

In 2016, online dramas surged to 349 titles—all the result of his "Limit Foreign" policy, which he pushed relentlessly to develop online dramas.

Who knew about his efforts?

Ordinary people didn't know, but capital knew—so what? All they wanted was for the Principal to disappear.

Why? Because he blocked film box office revenue; blocked other internet film platforms; blocked celebrity talent agencies.

As public opinion intensified, thirteen film companies in Huandian united to sue Yutu for monopolization—but their case was immediately dismissed.

It was clearly a flimsy pretext, fabricated just to throw Yutu into the spotlight.

Since you can't touch his films, go after his core—strike straight at the heart.

Fang Hong was truly disgusted by these people and sighed: "Looks like the two Wang brothers have gotten smarter."

"Could there be a mastermind behind them?" Chen Zhixi said.

"Definitely. Those two brothers couldn't pull this off on their own," Fang Hong looked down on them completely.

"It seems capital is launching a full-scale war against you," Chen Zhixi said mournfully.

"What's coming will come. They've expanded for one or two years, invested where they could, and are now consolidating—but they've realized that in the film and television industry, whether in production, distribution, or internet content, Yutu is the mountain they can't climb," Fang Hong knew it was unavoidable.

Huayi was merely a vanguard.

Even Panda Live had recently turned against him; other platforms refused to invite Da Baobei, Da Heiniu, and other banned artists, knowing they were in the storm and waiting for the heat to die down.

Xiao Wang invited these few to do livestream propaganda.

Panda Live was now extremely popular, having hired many stars and famous streamers, but the main games still played were Hero Glory and Honor of Kings.

These two games had high buzz and were visually engaging.

"What should we do next?" Chen Zhixi asked.

"Has Bonai delisted yet?" Fang Hong asked in return.

"It has," Chen Zhixi didn't understand: "What does this have to do with this incident?"

"Since they're playing this way, let's play big—let's play along," Fang Hong said.

He worried that if he played too big, the authorities might impose early regulation on the entertainment industry, making Bonai's IPO impossible—this would be troublesome.

But in any struggle, there must be sacrifice; no sacrifice is impossible. Sacrificing Bonai is better than sacrificing Yutu.

Chen Zhixi's expression turned serious, and she asked: "How exactly?"

"Wait for now. First, take down Huayi. Our current target is Huayi—we can't be distracted. No matter how many paths they come from, we go one path: first, make sure Mr. Six can't be released."

"Can't be released?" Chen Zhixi was shocked—this kind of power required connections to heaven.

No one could ever prevent a film from being released—not even Alibaba, Wanda, and Tencent together could do it, because the authority over whether a film is released lies with the authorities, not the public.

"Yes. If this film can't be released, Huayi will never recover," Fang Hong had originally planned only to blockade; now he changed his strategy.

In his past life, when Mobile 2 couldn't be released, Huayi collapsed. This time, it will be even harsher, because Huayi has multiple performance guarantees hanging over it.

If those guarantees fail, it will inevitably trigger asset impairment, related-party transactions, accounts receivable, and a series of financial problems.

Even if the stars who signed the guarantees compensate, they can't cover Huayi's losses. Huayi's debt has risen to over six billion yuan and keeps growing—just the interest alone is enormous.

They need constant funding for film projects, film towns, internet ventures, games—none of these can stop, and returns won't come quickly.

It takes at least three to five years for returns. Thinking you can invest now and expect returns in a few months? Dream on—even a reborn like Fang Hong couldn't do it.

Unless you acquire a company already profitable—which requires a huge price, like Tencent's 8.6 billion-dollar acquisition of the company behind Clash of Clans—terrifying.

No company has ever gone from founding to profitability in a few months—it always takes a long time.

As always: investment isn't what people imagine. You can't invest in a new company today and expect returns in a few months—that's impossible, unless you're trading stocks.

If Huayi's market value collapses, share reductions and auction trading won't fill the hole—when market value plummets, the price won't be what it was.

(End of Chapter)