Chapter 685

During the Spring Festival, many celebrity artists quickly joined Douyin.

The first to join was Nazha, who performed a dazzling dance and bowed to the audience for the New Year—the entire video lasted only 12 to 15 seconds.

Her beautiful and glamorous appearance attracted a large crowd of fans.

"Sister is so beautiful!" they shouted.

Of course, there were also some haters who relentlessly criticized her; Nazha was truly strange—so many people just liked to hate her, as if this girl was naturally unlikable.

In fact, she had done nothing wrong except for enjoying romance; she had committed no moral transgressions.

Even the huge, noisy Yin-Yang Contract scandal didn't involve her.

Besides Nazha, soon after came Yang Yang, Zhao Xiaodao, Chen Chichi, Li Xian, Zhang Yishan, Zhang Jingying, and other new-generation stars, all of whom registered accounts under their own names.

They each filmed short videos—some greeted for the New Year, others showcased dance talents or comedic interactions, and some even posted approved film clips.

Jing Tian also joined, posting some daily life clips, but they weren't popular—she wasn't popular at this stage anyway.

The reason she attracted attention was her mysterious background.

Due to the influx of new-generation stars onto Douyin, a massive wave of their fans and casual users rushed to the platform, giving Douyin a huge surge of traffic.

Celebrities still held strong influence online; if Weibo had no stars, hardly anyone would use it.

Because Douyin was gradually taking over Weibo's functions, offering more comprehensive features where both images and videos received excellent exposure.

In his past life, Weibo began its slow decline this year, as emerging platforms like WeChat, Kuaishou, Douyin, Bilibili, and Xiaohongshu all challenged Weibo, diverting its social attributes and traffic.

Of course, Weibo's daily and monthly active user numbers were unreliable; if you believed their data, everyone around you used Weibo.

Because their reported monthly active users exceeded 700 million, while WeChat had only just surpassed that figure—absurdly exaggerated.

In recent days of the New Year, relatives and friends occasionally came to Fang Hong's home to pay New Year visits, mostly relatives from Liu Tianxian's side.

Grandparents, aunties, uncles—those kinds of people.

They had all come together, mainly because they'd heard Liu Tianxian was pregnant and wanted to check on her, and also to gather as a family; seeing her big belly still full of energy, they felt reassured.

After all, she looked very healthy—her child would surely be healthy too.

They stayed two days and left, planning to return when the baby was born—it wasn't even a few months away.

On this day, Yu Xian, far away in the United States, called to offer New Year greetings and ask after them.

"The first-week box office for Fifty Shades of Black seems pretty underwhelming!" Fang Hong said in his study, facing a tablet.

On the tablet was Yu Xian, with an art wall in the background, giving off a refined vibe.

Fifty Shades of Black's first-week box office was nearly half that of its predecessor, Fifty Shades of Grey.

The first film nearly broke $258 million in its opening week—it was wildly popular; this sequel just wasn't doing well.

The second week would surely see a cliff-like drop.

"Male audiences are fatigued; the first one was just novelty. Honestly, watching this is worse than watching porn—porn at least shows real action, offers real pain and real intensity, way more interesting than this."

"Cough cough."

Liu Tianxian suddenly appeared on screen, her face serious, her gaze sharp.

"Actually, it's fine—as long as it clears $300 million, we won't lose money, just make less profit," Yu Xian quickly corrected himself, speaking seriously about work.

Fifty Shades of Grey had a $50 million budget; with $300 million in box office, it could recover $75 million and make $20 to $30 million in profit.

The exact profit depends on the final box office.

Fang Hong smiled but said nothing—he already knew all this.

After finishing, Yu Xian seemed to notice Liu Tianxian for the first time: "Oh! Sister-in-law! Happy New Year, happy New Year!"

"Happy New Year. How are you doing over there?" Liu Tianxian's expression softened slightly.

If she hadn't appeared just then, this guy would've kept going nonstop with his suggestive topics.

"Great—I've got food, drink, and entertainment," Yu Xian said.

"How's your relationship with that girl from last time? When are you bringing her back so we can meet her and vet her?" Liu Tianxian was referring to Guo Biting.

They had seen her when Yu Xian brought her to her wedding.

"It's going well. I'll bring her back when I have time," Yu Xian thought Guo Biting was fine—her personality was good, after all, they'd been dating for so many years.

His taste still favored Eastern women; the lead actress in Fifty Shades of Grey had been quite beautiful a few years ago.

Now she looks older and older—her shelf life is too short!

"Good!" Liu Tianxian didn't dwell on it, leaving it to them.

"The Oscars are about to begin—will you come?" Yu Xian asked.

"Why go?" Fang Hong replied.

"I made Birdman—it got nominated, and I think I might win; the buzz is pretty high," Yu Xian said.

Hearing this, Fang Hong remembered: two years ago, when Yu Xian wanted to make an award-winning film, he had advised him to make this one—take his time, polish it slowly.

After all this time, it was finally being released and considered for awards.

Yu Xian hadn't mentioned it, and Fang Hong had forgotten—he hadn't paid attention to U. S. affairs in a long time.

"My wife is pregnant; we can't possibly go that far away—I need to stay here with her," Fang Hong paused.

"Pregnant?!" Yu Xian exclaimed.

"Yes, already several months—her belly is showing," Fang Hong said.

"So big already?" Yu Xian instinctively glanced at Liu Tianxian's belly; she was wearing loose clothes, and he hadn't noticed before.

Now that he looked closely, it really was quite large!

"Yes, so sorry—we can't go to the United States," Liu Tianxian said apologetically.

"No problem! Pregnancy is all about resting—after all, I'm going to be an uncle! Hahaha!" Yu Xian suddenly burst into laughter.

He showed no disappointment at their inability to come; instead, he was excited and eager—after all, his backup had just improved.

"How about I become the godfather once the baby is born?" Yu Xian added.

"If it's a boy, we can consider it; if it's a girl, forget it," Fang Hong said.

"Why?" Yu Xian asked, puzzled.

"This nickname isn't friendly for an adult girl," Fang Hong thought ahead.

By the time she turns eighteen, hearing she has a godfather will invite all sorts of messy interpretations—it's psychologically damaging.

If her mindset is strong, fine; if not, she might not withstand it, since young people's psyches aren't strong.

He also didn't know what his "daughter" would do when she grew up, or what career she'd pursue.

Of course, boys don't face so many issues or public scrutiny; there are plenty of male stars in every industry and the entertainment world with godfathers or godmothers.

Liu Tianwang's godmother is Ye Dexian; Zhou Naicha's godfather is Huang Jiaozhu; even Guanxi Ge's godfather is him too—no one talks about it, no one says anything.

Even Fang Long has taken on many godsons!

There are many more: Huang Jiaozhu and the Xiang family are god-relatives, and Huang Jiaozhu is said to be Zhang Yishan's godfather.

Da Heiniu and Hong Pangzi; Wu Lei and Hu Ge; Guo Degang and his disciples—there are plenty, though some avoid public acknowledgment due to taboos.

This phenomenon is common, but once gender changes, it seems the nature changes entirely.

"Oh, I see!" Yu Xian understood.

Liu Tianxian looked at Fang Hong—he was trying to spare their child from the same criticism she endured, thinking far ahead.

This was the best protection for their child.

The three chatted for a while, then hung up—the main reason was they hadn't seen each other in a long time, wanted to meet, and pay New Year greetings.

Fang Hong put down his phone and said: "Our child won't have any godfathers. It's pointless to artificially give our child another father—it lowers the generational rank and invites future complications."

"Some parents fear their children will be bullied and want a godfather to help," Liu Tianxian said.

"But isn't that all about whether the parents themselves have ability? If the parents are capable, their children naturally thrive, with many helping them; if they're not, even a godfather won't help," Fang Hong said.

"You're too extreme and too cynical," Liu Tianxian replied—not opposing, just asking him not to view people so cynically.

She thought Chen Jinfei was quite good, sincerely helping her artistic career grow.

There are pros and cons; fewer criticisms is better.

"Xixi, Xiao Fang, someone's here to visit—see if they're your friends," Liu Xiaoli suddenly called out.

"Who is it?" Fang Hong asked.

"He's surnamed Chen, a director," Liu Xiaoli said.

Hearing this, Fang Hong guessed: "It must be Chen Sicheng."

"You go down. I won't come—I'm going to sleep," Liu Tianxian said; she didn't know the man well, and going out would be awkward.

Fang Hong nodded and said "Alright," telling her to rest well.

Chen Sicheng entered carrying bags of gifts, bowing to the elders in the house.

"Auntie, hello, Auntie, hello!"

"You came, that's enough—why bring so many gifts? Xiao Fang will be down soon, come inside and sit," Liu Xiaoli warmly welcomed him.

She seated him in the sofa area and set out fruits and snacks.

"Thank you, thank you—just a small token, not worthy of your attention," Chen Sicheng smiled, revealing two dimples, just like his wife Yaya.

Fang Hong came down from the second floor and saw Chen Sicheng: "Director Chen, Happy New Year!"

"Happy New Year, Happy New Year—I dare not call myself Director in front of Director Fang, you'd humiliate me!" Chen Sicheng immediately stood up.

"It's all the same—just a title."

Fang Hong gestured for him to sit, then sat across from him and asked: "Have you decided?"

"I have. I plan to start a personal film studio, still partnering with Yutu—Yutu provides part of the funding, I provide part, and I handle all film planning, research, and production," Chen Sicheng said.

Meaning: in the future, he'd still use Yutu's money and resources for his films, but he alone would manage the projects and shooting plans—Yutu wouldn't interfere.

Effectively, he'd be organizing his own film productions, with Yutu acting solely as an investment partner—both sides would have investment rights and be listed as primary producers.

Of course, the production team would still be Yutu's—this was an unspoken rule, unchangeable; otherwise, why did Fang Hong maintain so many behind-the-scenes staff?

"How much equity will your studio give Yutu?" Fang Hong asked.

"Fifty percent—I'll take fifty percent too. What do you think?" Chen Sicheng watched the Principal's expression, looking nervous.

This share was a bold demand—he feared the Principal would refuse.

"Fine, I have no problem," Fang Hong agreed immediately, leaning forward and extending his hand.

Chen Sicheng smiled easily, leaned forward, and shook it: "Director, won't you negotiate a bit more?"

"No. Seeing you grow gives me great comfort—China's future cinema depends on you," Fang Hong said with an old-man's tone, as if he were retiring from the film industry.

"No, no, no—you're putting too heavy a burden on me—I still need to grow under your guidance," Chen Sicheng respected the Principal even more.

Not only did he actively support their ventures, he willingly gave up equity—this respect came from the heart.

After all, the Principal had supported him from the start, telling him he could choose either Wanda or Yutu without blame.

No one else had shown such openness and sincerity.

"You can do it—I've always believed in you. Just keep working hard, don't let me down," Fang Hong said.

"Thank you, Principal!"

Chen Sicheng shook his hand firmly.

Thus, the first director to leave Yutu independently appeared; rumors spread through the industry, everyone wondering if Chen Sicheng had broken away from the Principal.

But when they heard he was still collaborating with Yutu, some were disappointed, others impressed—Yutu remained powerful.

The most disappointed was Lao Wang Zong—he'd offered such high terms, yet Chen Sicheng still chose Yutu.

This was understandable; Chen Sicheng had collaborated with the Principal and Yutu for so long, they knew each other well.

He didn't know Wanda well at all.

Lao Wang Zong had to find a new target—there were plenty of directors, but those who could make profitable films were extremely rare.

Apart from those few fifth-generation directors, the emerging ones have to bear the trial-and-error cost.

If you don't let him shoot, you won't know if he can do it; but if you let him shoot, it's easily tens of millions or even over a hundred million, and losing that money hurts — it's quite a dilemma.

Still, the Principal knows how to cultivate talent. Early on he trained a number of new directors, like Guo Fan, who is now the hottest director around.

His recent film Mojin: The Lost Legend pulled in over a billion at the box office, which proved his worth.

Every film he makes does well at the box office, so plenty of capital is willing to invest in his movies.

Naturally, Guo Fan got the idea of setting up his own shop. He even went specifically to find Chen Sicheng to ask what the Principal's attitude was toward directors like them striking out on their own.

Chen Sicheng didn't hide it either, saying the Principal fully supported them starting their own ventures and to go ahead and negotiate boldly.

That put Guo Fan somewhat at ease, but to strike out on his own he needed a new film project — what would his next movie be?

After all, he still wanted to make blockbusters, and the investment for those is easily hundreds of millions. Few capital backers can stomach giving him unconditional room to fail — only the Principal can.

The earlier "Yin-Yang Contract" incident dealt a heavy blow to the circle.

Compared with the directors wanting to strike out on their own, Jade Rabbit's actors didn't have such big ambitions. Apart from one Zhao Xiaodao, none of the other actors had that kind of idea.

After Chen Sicheng left Jade Rabbit, he naturally sold the several million Option Stocks he held back to Jade Rabbit, and Jade Rabbit bought them back at the market price of 5 yuan per share.

That let Chen Sicheng pocket several million in one go — and he still had to pay taxes. It's not like however many you hold, however many you sell turns straight into cash; this was also the result of holding them for over two years.

These surplus Option Stocks will be used to reward the new core creators, as well as the behind-the-scenes creators.

Every year Fang Hong also puts some into the Option Pool; if there are too many, he'll take some back as well — just keeping the Option Pool at a certain size is enough.

But it can't be too many either — keep the number of people at a certain level; if there are too many, Jade Rabbit can't bear it.

This year it's 5 yuan per share, up 2 yuan from last year. Other holders get the same price — they can sell to Jade Rabbit, or keep holding.

Of course, if they sell and then buy back, they have to buy at half the 5-yuan price, that is, at 2.5 yuan, to guarantee the profit on what they hold.

These are incentive shares to begin with, meant to protect the employees' interests — they can't be allowed to lose money.

Once a year, every year, it's the same. Jade Rabbit has its own economic ledger for this side of the Option Pool — as long as it keeps circulating, that's enough.

(End of chapter)