Chapter 671

By mid-to-late January, the entertainment industry's four-month-long competition finally showed signs of calming down.

Of course, internal aftershocks still persisted and wouldn't subside anytime soon; everyone was busy handling their own affairs.

But the incident had become fodder for casual conversation, and since it wasn't anything honorable, the entertainment industry was doing its best to avoid excessive media and netizen interpretation.

This was because the damage to the industry's reputation was severe—reputation in this field meant money—so internal adjustments were enough; external commentary was best kept minimal.

Still, many curious netizens were digging deep for insider information, and discussions remained heated.

The stars embroiled in the scandal—Da Baobei, Da Heiniu, Zhu Yirong, as well as Huayi and Yutu artists—all fell silent, and the negative publicity ceased.

It seemed as if harmony had been restored; stars gradually returned to their normal entertainment careers.

Of course, Da Heiniu from Run Brother probably wouldn't be returning, since someone else had replaced him, but other variety shows were still fine.

With Fan Xiaopang leading the way, whenever the two appeared together, they generated massive heat—no need to worry about him.

As long as Principal and those capital interests didn't target him, there wouldn't be major problems.

But stars' appearances and fees would all be heavily discounted, since the Salary Cap Order had just been issued.

That meant fees couldn't exceed a set standard; exceeding it would trigger joint liability for production and investment parties.

Without these production companies turning a blind eye, how could artists ever have Yin-Yang Contracts?

If negative fallout occurred, films and TV shows could be pulled from platforms; now, many investors and production companies were being cautious, conducting basic Artist Risk Assessment.

After all, compared to a single drama being taken down—where the entire investment became worthless—it was still extremely serious.

This led some platforms to reserve 15% to 20% of final payments as tax guarantees when collaborating with production companies, anticipating reviews in advance.

Chang'e Video was now doing exactly this, and was also building an Artist Risk Assessment System to track artists' tax and public opinion risks.

Tracking tax wasn't too complicated—just checking whether production costs had been inflated.

Public opinion meant monitoring an artist's media sentiment!

This meant production companies had to reduce reliance on stars and pursue a high-quality, refined path.

No other reason—star scandals were too dangerous.

This campus idol incident was the best example: one Mr. Six nearly collapsed Huayi.

With Huayi in such a state, other small and medium film and TV companies, if one project failed, might never recover and be forced into debt.

So this incident was beneficial to the overall film and TV industry.

But capital was still watching, unable to estimate the impact of this incident on the entertainment industry or on artists.

At least, the practice of raising money through X money had been partially blocked—that was the biggest benefit to this circle.

Of course, some gossips commented on the incident; Xiao Wang, on a variety show, lounged with one leg crossed over the other and said freely: "Huayi's two brothers were stupid; Principal is just a reckless farmer."

This remark left the host speechless.

Now, Yutu was at its peak—a brilliant sun in the entertainment industry; few insiders dared to comment.

Even Liu Tianxian had few who dared to speak of her.

But Xiao Wang wasn't afraid; to him, Principal was no different from ordinary people—his family's industrial scale was at least five times that of Chang'e and Yutu combined.

Wanda really was this extravagant now, and these past two years had seen Lao Wang Zong consecutively ranked as the richest person.

Of course, their assets were mainly in real estate, hotels, parks, resorts, and such; in domestic entertainment venues, they weren't dominant—most were overseas.

Put simply, Wanda was now the world's largest theater chain, having invested 50 billion to build the world's largest film and TV production base.

They were flush with cash—not just collecting rent, but controlling many resources through Ministry of Culture and Tourism.

They held broadcasting rights for the World Cup, Winter Olympics, and were partners of FIFA and International Basketball Federation, managing event operations.

But Chang'e Video never needed these things; it relied solely on films and TV dramas—last year, The Nirvana in Fire's online streaming exceeded 15 billion views.

Conservatively estimated, this drama generated over one billion in revenue; just from licensing the mobile game, its first-month revenue broke 50 million.

Not counting other merchandise like clothing, folding fans, or licensing for stage plays and radio dramas.

In overseas markets like Japan, South Korea, and Southeast Asia, per-episode pricing exceeded $100,000, with total revenue surpassing $50 million.

Meanwhile, The Lost Tomb also brought over five million new subscribers, reaching 20 million total, with daily active users exceeding 60 million.

This performance had placed it at the top of video platforms, crushing competitors and creating a four-way standoff.

Chang'e Video relied solely on web dramas and hit TV series—not foreign dramas or sports events.

Fang Hong had always avoided dependence, so aside from films, he had no other business dealings with Wanda.

Of course, Xiao Wang's esports industry was still closely tied to him, since most esports relied on Swan Castle's games, and now they'd launched PlayerUnknown's Battlegrounds!

But PlayerUnknown's Battlegrounds was region-locked; you couldn't play it without a VPN, yet people still streamed it—live streaming moderation wasn't strict.

The popularity was undeniable—extremely high—but only overseas; this made many domestic players curious about what kind of game it was.

The region lock existed because it was still a demo version, exploiting overseas players as leeks to harvest; some domestic players still bypassed the lock to buy it, and that was fine.

In one month, PlayerUnknown's Battlegrounds sold 1.6 million copies, with revenue surpassing $48 million, still ranking #1 on Steam.

If revenue broke $50 million, the cut would be compressed to 20%, meaning much more for them—easily hundreds of millions.

Part of this money flowed into Fang Hong's entertainment industry bottom-fishing plan.

For the entertainment industry bottom-fishing, Chang'e Technology alone would contribute 6 billion; another 4 billion would come from Yutu's 3 billion and Tuitiaopiao's 1 billion.

This money wouldn't be released all at once; initially, all three would contribute a little to stabilize the situation—those with better returns would contribute more, those with worse returns would contribute less.

Tuitiaopiao was a listed company, focused on movie ticketing, and to align with its profile, it only invested in small and medium companies producing films.

For example, it would invest in Wuyuan Culture, whose company produced both web dramas and films.

Of course, the largest volume was still in TV dramas and web dramas, so the main funding came from Chang'e and Yutu.

This year, Chang'e had its breakout year, but its Information Flow Advertising business hadn't matured yet.

Yutu's current performance was best: Mojin: The Lost Legend's final box office reached 1.34 billion, another film surpassing one billion.

But it was about 300 million less than in the previous life, due to prior competition.

However, Tangrenjie Tangan, after adjusting its release schedule, captured the New Year and Christmas periods, earning over one billion more, now reaching over 900 million.

The daily box office is still several million, quite stable; it just depends on whether it can break ten billion.

This film has generated huge buzz and achieved both critical and box office success, making Chen Sicheng wildly famous and elevating his directorial status immeasurably—truly a win in both fame and fortune.

But this also brought problems: Lao Wang Zong is poaching Chen Sicheng at a high price, offering to set up a company for him and have him make films for Wanda.

For this reason, Chen Sicheng came specifically to visit Fang Hong to discuss striking out on his own.

"I support you starting your company, but—are you really set on partnering with Wanda?" Fang Hong said.

They were outside in the courtyard of the Villa; the snow was deep and crunched underfoot with a "crunch-crunch" sound.

As they walked and talked, Chen Sicheng asked in return: "What good advice does the Principal have?"

"What good advice could I have? Your life is yours to decide. Honestly, whether you partner with me or with Wanda, it's the same—you've already succeeded in life. Starting a business is just about choosing who to partner with, so you can maximize your talent." Fang Hong spoke sincerely.

Currently, Chen Sicheng is a director who can make money; as long as he can make money, a flood of capital will chase him for investment.

So no matter how he chooses, he won't lack funds to make films—in short, Chen Sicheng has talent and understands market demand.

Both Yuetu and Wanda are companies with promotional resources and theater chains; either choice is fine.

"You're right, Principal," Chen Sicheng laughed. "But you're so sincere, I'm almost uncomfortable."

"Why uncomfortable? We've collaborated for so long—you don't think I'm cold and heartless, do you?" Fang Hong said.

"No, I just feel a bit uncomfortable," Chen Sicheng said.

Just after crushing Huayi, now he's speaking so openly—it really does feel strange.

"I only target enemies. For collaborators, I've always treated them as friends," Fang Hong said, patting his shoulder.

Chen Sicheng nodded—it was true. After all, he still held Yuetu's Option Stock.

It had been given to them directors by the Principal back then.

"Do what you think best—I won't stand in your way. If you partner with Wanda, we're still friends," Fang Hong said, with a hint of moral pressure.

But Chen Sicheng was genuinely moved.

"Principal, thank you," he said.

"Thank me for what?" Fang Hong asked, puzzled.

"Thank you for all your support and cultivation over the years. Without you, I might have wasted many more years," Chen Sicheng said gratefully.

In his memory, if the Principal hadn't brought him in back then, had him work as assistant director on big sets, and invested to support him in making *Beijing Love*,

he probably wouldn't have succeeded today!

Fang Hong smiled and waved his hand, signaling him not to be so formal.

In truth, even without him, Chen Sicheng would have succeeded along his predetermined path—he'd simply brought him in at the right time.

"Principal, I want to ask you: will you and Wanda end up like Huayi?" Chen Sicheng asked curiously.

This was also a factor in his decision—if both sides turned against each other like Huayi,

one side would inevitably fall. If he chose wrong, he'd be affected too—after all, choice matters more than effort.

Fang Hong's emotional bonding had only slightly moved him; fundamentally, he still needed tangible benefits.

Adults know: emotion only lets people enjoy each other's company when there's no conflict of interest. Otherwise, interests come first.

"Neither side can swallow the other or defeat the other—we'll just be deadlocked. If one must fall in the end, it'll be Wanda," Fang Hong revealed a secret.

"Huh?! Why?" Chen Sicheng was startled.

"Because Wanda has heavy debt, while Yuetu has little. Though we're smaller in scale now, we don't face Wanda's crisis. In other words, Yuetu moves more steadily and won't fall far; Wanda stands higher, so it'll crash harder," Fang Hong analyzed.

Chen Sicheng pondered this, but couldn't reach any clear conclusion—he wasn't a businessperson and had no future perspective.

Fang Hong had a future perspective.

"I'm just saying this offhand—don't take it seriously. No one knows what the future holds."

Fang Hong patted his shoulder again and added: "If you choose to strike out on your own, don't keep your Yuetu Option Stock—sell it. The company will buy it back at the agreed market price."

That's the rule: former employees can't hold Yuetu shares. This year, Yuetu's Option Stock will still rise, so you won't lose out.

With this, you can achieve financial freedom.

"Alright, thank you, Principal. Whether I choose Yuetu or Wanda, I'll let you know," Chen Sicheng said, giving him a heads-up.

"No problem—as long as you've made up your mind," Fang Hong said, not pressuring him.

Chen Sicheng nodded, feeling the Principal's vision was broader than Lao Wang Zong's. When he wanted to strike out or switch companies, the Principal supported him in every word, even sharing private insights.

To others, this would be unimaginable.

But Lao Wang Zong only poached people; the Principal never poached anyone—he cultivated them. Still, Lao Wang Zong offered more money, that was true.

This left Chen Sicheng torn: emotionally, he leaned toward the Principal; financially, he leaned toward Lao Wang Zong.

Fang Hong didn't care how he chose—leaving or staying was natural. In essence, he hadn't offered any concrete benefits.

He couldn't outspend BAT or Wanda, so he relied on emotional bonding.

But as long as the *Tangrenjie Tangan* rights stayed with Yuetu, Chen Sicheng couldn't escape Yuetu when making this series.

Of course, Chen Sicheng could write and direct other films—he was still very capable, profitable as both director and producer.

After Chen Sicheng left, Fang Hong returned home.

"What were you talking about for so long?" Liu Tianxian had been watching through the glass wall inside.

"Wanda wants to poach Chen Sicheng to make films for them," Fang Hong didn't hide it.

"That father-son duo—they're the same. The son insults people, the father poaches them," Liu Tianxian's face turned cold.

She'd seen the video of Xiao Wang insulting people, publicly calling her husband a reckless farmer—it was infuriating.

"Why get so angry? Xiao Wang's always been arrogant—he looks down on everyone. If you take offense at someone like him, you're just dragging yourself down to his level," Fang Hong stepped forward, stroking her round belly.

Liu Tianxian wore a loose long dress; her belly was clearly rounded, but not overly swollen.

"I'm just not happy," Liu Tianxian said. Since getting pregnant, her temper had grown.

Whenever something upset her, she got angry.

"Alright, we'll deal with him later and shut him up," Fang Hong chuckled.

Liu Tianxian smiled too, knowing he was just soothing her; her anger had mostly faded. She said, "Hey, let's go play snowball fight!"

Fang Hong glanced at her big belly: "Are you sure that's okay?"

"Why not? I'm just bigger in the belly, not paralyzed. Your mom keeps restricting me all day—I'm bored to death," Liu Tianxian complained.

Xu Liyun wouldn't let her move this way or that, making her feel like a useless person.

"Fine, I'll get you some clothes."

Soon, laughter and joy rang out in the courtyard as snowballs flew back and forth, striking each other.

They drenched each other's hair and bodies in snow.

But Fang Hong was still careful.

"Oh no! Xixi, you're pregnant!" Xu Liyun shouted from the doorway, slapping her thigh.

Only then did the two stop playing. Liu Tianxian was content—just being able to play a little was enough.

Fang Hong stepped forward to brush the snow off her.

While he was clearing her, Liu Tianxian pressed her icy-cold hands against his cheeks.

"Hss!" Fang Hong sucked in a sharp breath.

"Hahaha!"

Liu Tianxian laughed heartily. "That's all it takes to freeze you? Aren't men supposed to have lots of fire in them?"

"Of course. Let me put my hand on your face and see if you freeze," Fang Hong said.

"Go ahead, let's see if it freezes you," Liu Tianxian agreed, intrigued.

"You're serious?" Fang Hong looked at her, puzzled.

"Yes, let my face feel what it's like to be icy," Liu Tianxian said earnestly.

Pregnant women are strange—Fang Hong cupped her soft, smooth cheeks with both hands.

(End of Chapter)