Chapter 736: The General

The stage was lavish, the lights a dreamy blue, soft and gentle.

Below, the audience sat silently as the Principal held a microphone, pacing the stage, recounting the evolution of the film and television market over these past years.

These past years have been the fastest-growing and most turbulent in the film market, with countless new forces rising and new directors emerging; with the spread of mobile internet, capital flooded into every corner of the entertainment industry.

They wanted to control content and the upstream star ecosystem.

Nowadays, whether on the internet or in entertainment, whoever controls content controls the traffic code.

Otherwise, why have all platforms started pushing short videos—even Meituan and Pinduoduo now offer short video channels in their apps?

They simply want to use short video content to retain customers and not miss out on traffic.

"These past years, our film industry has been prosperous—so prosperous that a film earning one or two hundred million is called a flop, so prosperous that a movie can't even be mentioned unless it claims to have made over a hundred million.

I remember once, a film earning just ten million was already a huge profit; a budget of a few million was already considered excellent.

But now, tens of millions are considered small investments—is it really that our film production costs have soared, or have we become restless, fond of bluffing and deceiving audiences?"

Fang Hong's words left everyone in the room silent; viewers in the livestream were frantically typing "Principal" in the chat.

They loved hearing the Principal speak truth—the more truthful, the more they loved it—because there was too much falsehood.

"I actually investigated some behind-the-scenes members, comparing their salaries to those ten years ago, and discovered a fascinating phenomenon.

Salaries for directors, cinematographers, and art directors—the core roles—have risen; they are creative, and now that web dramas and TV series are booming, investors are willing to pay.

Senior technical roles—experienced lighting technicians, sound engineers, Best Special Effects, post-production staff—have also seen salary increases.

Of course, what I just said applies only to those with experience—who already have acclaimed representative works; newcomers with no experience cannot earn such high salaries.

For example, crew assistants, Assistants, lighting assistants, sound assistants—these basic roles—their salaries haven't changed much compared to ten years ago. By 'not much change,' I don't mean no increase—I mean the increase was minimal.

Production costs have risen, but not ridiculously so. So where did the money go? Star salaries are one part.

In these past years, star fees have risen several times, even more than tenfold; back then, we paid a star a few or several million and that was enough; now we pay tens of millions, even hundreds of millions, some nearing a billion. Even I, as someone in this industry, was stunned, utterly shocked."

Fang Hong said "shocked," but his expression was calm—though his tone criticized this phenomenon.

The audience below knew he was right: Da Baobei thought eighty million was too little; the combined salaries of Young Master Zhou and Huo Jianhua for Ruyi Zhuan reached a staggering 150 million!

Fan Xiaopang, Da Mimi, Sun Li, and even the four top streaming idols—all now command figures touching the billion mark.

"High star salaries are one issue, but films certainly don't pay that much—compared to TV dramas, film salaries are discounted, because films carry a prestige boost, and many actors are willing to take film roles.

My observation is that salaries have risen, but not ridiculously so. So where did the money go? Promotion and marketing expenses.

Promotion budgets for top blockbusters range from one to two hundred million; mid-tier films spend hundreds of millions—money spent creating buzz, stoking hype, dragging down competitors, using every possible tactic to drag audiences into theaters to watch your garbage.

Using every possible tactic to rewrite the rules, putting disgraced artists on the big screen; using every possible tactic to twist audience aesthetics. Do you even realize you're in crisis? Do you know the film industry's credibility is collapsing?

And what are you doing? Basking in self-satisfaction, believing that controlling resources lets you ignore audience emotions, ignore audience aesthetics. I can't even imagine what Chinese cinema will become—I'm terrified just thinking about it.

When the film market truly collapses, you'll beg audiences to go to theaters to watch your films—and they won't come, because you've broken their hearts."

Fang Hong's tone earlier was calm, but what he said later was filled with frustration at their failure.

Some film professionals below looked serious; others whispered among themselves, unsure whether the Principal's words were true or just alarmist.

Yet they themselves felt no such crisis!

Years later, when film professionals had ruined their reputations, crying about a "winter" for cinema and audiences refusing to enter theaters, when Fang Long and Lao Mouzi urged people to go back to the cinema—

they would realize how profoundly prophetic the Principal's words were that day.

But by then, even if they wanted to change, they'd be powerless: audiences would rather give their box office to an Animation Department than to them—even mainstream propaganda had completely lost its power.

Imagine how deeply the audience had been wounded.

"Of course, humans are inherently selfish. I've said before that people who are selfish for their sons, for their own freedom, don't care how severe the consequences of breaking rules are—you can't expect human nature to self-regulate; that's fantasy.

Forcing audiences to accept your aesthetics—if such people truly succeeded, making money would be too easy: just slap something together, spend more on promotion, and the box office soars.

Then hire dozens of stupid stars to endorse it, saying 'I Like'—what art is this? Who are you, audience, to judge? Let me say it bluntly: this is rape! Rape of the audience."

Fang Hong's blunt language made stars who had previously supported Mojing Wang and defended Xiao Fangzi feel deeply embarrassed.

This was a livestream—every word the Principal said was recorded. Past interviews had only text; this time, before millions of viewers, he had fully exposed the entire film industry's underbelly.

Most importantly, their support for Mojing Wang and their whitewashing of Xiao Fangzi could all be dug up by Wangyi.

Yet livestream viewers kept flooding the chat with "Principal," and "Principal, you're awesome!"

Hundreds of thousands more immediately flooded into the livestream to watch his speech—though whether any celebrities were among them was unknown.

Even if they didn't watch, the public opinion would reach their ears.

"Of course, you don't feel the crisis—you're making piles of salary. What happens to this film circle? What's it to you, right?

But I want you to ask yourselves: is your professional ability worth this much money? We're lucky we have a large population and government oversight, giving you a favorable environment to make money. Go look at South Korea—how desperate and miserable their stars are.

Even so, some still complain about loopholes, saying this is bad, that is bad, demanding even more relaxation. Let me tell you: if you relax further, you'll truly become playthings. You think you're important now? When this circle collapses, you all collapse with it.

In the eyes of investors like us, you're just commodities—commodities, understand? Things that can be manufactured and discarded at any moment. If you're not good, we'll just make another commodity."

Fang Hong's words were brutally frank; the stars in the room turned pale, exchanged glances, and could only lower their heads in silence.

They had come to the Macau Film Festival in good spirits, never expecting to be publicly denounced like this by the Principal.

divstyle="display: lex; justiycontent: center; gap: 30px; alignitems: lexstart;"

divid="ppc"dataormat="audio"datalazy="alse"

divid="adsecondslotpc"

They still preferred when the Principal led them in raising their arms to fight the fashion circle—back then, victory had made them swell with pride.

But only the Principal would dare say this; no one else would dare.

What he said was true: even someone at the level of Hua Yi's Xiao Wang could put them on a price tag.

And this is even with oversight from above!

Of course, if you don't want to be controlled like this, either fight back and break out on your own—Liu Tianxian and Li Bailian are examples.

Da Mimi counts too, though she once said sleeping with directors was normal, after starting her own company she resisted it—though she was later kicked out, that's another story.

Fan Xiaopang doesn't count—just months ago, before Lost in White premiered, at Cannes, she and Fang Long were seen publicly hugging and cuddling.

Fan Xiaopang took the initiative; Fang Long was someone who understood what needed to be understood—when a freebie is offered, why not take it? And this was precisely when Fan Xiaopang and Da Heiniu were in the hottest phase of their romance, so they had no reservations.

I don't know what Da Heiniu thought, but if there's something fun to do, why not do it? After all, Fan Xiaopang was still very smooth.

If you don't want to be subject to hidden rules in this industry, either quietly exit—it's easy to leave; just keep your mouth shut, and no one will touch you.

You're just an ordinary person; if you don't want to be famous, you can latch onto any public figure, and public opinion will absolutely side with you.

Vulnerable groups naturally have an advantage.

But progress in this circle is extremely difficult; to make money, you must accept all kinds of domination, and you must be prepared to see yourself as a commodity. Yet once you gain fame, making money becomes truly simple.

In other countries, especially next door, this is unimaginable—you enter, and you want to leave? Impossible. You must stay until you die.

"I don't know when the entertainment industry and film circle became like this," Fang Hong said. "Maybe it's always been like this; it's just that earlier, information wasn't widespread, people had difficulty accessing information, so they romanticized the entertainment industry and idealized the older generation of filmmakers."

Fine! Now the fire's turned to the older generation of filmmakers. But truthfully, those people weren't any cleaner than the younger generation.

Everyone's got a pile of dirty secrets under their pants; it's just that back then, times were different, and many of them washed clean and got on shore. But if any of their deeds were placed on any young actor today, they'd be publicly denounced and even blacklisted.

"I spent seven years trying to prove that times have changed—it's no longer the era controlled by those older filmmakers. Yet some still can't see reality."

"I've used every trick I have to resist the invasion of internet capital, stood up against the fashion circle, so you could stand tall as human beings—and yet some still grovel."

"The entertainment industry is meant to entertain the masses and establish correct values—not to serve capital or lick the boots of those old relics. I hope everyone understands their responsibility and finds their proper place."

Fang Hong stopped speaking, set down the microphone, and walked toward the audience.

Even those in the entertainment industry, no matter how unwilling, had to clap loudly—no matter how much they were criticized, they still had to clap; their weakness was plain to see.

But the live-stream audience listened with great excitement; the words "Principal" appeared densely and endlessly.

One netizen said: "Principal's speech here is enough to make him a god!"

"Even if Principal does nothing else, just for daring to speak, he's already stronger than most people!"

"These stars in the entertainment industry are too weak—they only know how to please capital and those old directors, completely ignoring the rise of young directors like Wen Muye, Guo Fan, Lu Yang, Zhang Yibai, Wang Ran, Shen Ao, and many others making films."

"Exactly. Principal has invested tens of billions into the production side, revitalizing web dramas—all of which broke free from traditional capital and introduced new capital."

"There's no way around it—Principal is changing, but the deep-rooted flaws can't be erased. It's like the queue has been cut off, but the mental queue remains."

".."

The netizens were discussing enthusiastically; they could analyze international trends and complex global conflicts with ease, so analyzing the entertainment industry's situation was naturally no problem.

In the banquet hall, the Macau Film Festival continued. Sa Beinan stepped up and said: "Thank you, Principal, for your brilliant speech. I think what you said was meant to ensure the sustainable development of the film market and to allow every artist to fulfill their role and remain popular longer."

"Otherwise, you wouldn't say these things. They're like the words my father said to me—harsh truths, but beneficial for action!"

Sa Beinan's quick defense smoothed over the atmosphere; the previously tense mood became slightly lighter.

Those present were left bewildered by Principal's actions.

Fang Hong returned to his seat. Officer Cui reached out and shook his hand: "Principal, you spoke wonderfully! You've upheld the integrity of the arts and audiovisual industry!"

"I can't accept that. I only spoke my mind—it was suffocating to hold it in." Fang Hong said.

"Some things are better said aloud," Officer Cui said. "Saying them creates a sense of crisis."

"I hope so." Fang Hong didn't know if a sense of crisis would arise, or if it would make those people change. He could only do this much.

Some things are beyond human control. The tide of history moves forward. Even if others have stepped into the pit before, we still have to step in ourselves—like Version T0. Everyone says Nihon is the beta server!

Other officials and celebrities turned to look at Principal, their expressions varied: admiration, relief, and calm indifference.

Liu Tianxian turned to look at her husband, silently watching him.

"Why are you staring at me? Do I have something on my face?" Fang Hong touched his own face.

"No. I think you're handsome—there's a certain… grand general's bearing." Liu Tianxian leaned closer.

"Really? This is the first time anyone's said that. Usually they say I'm cunning and ruthless."

"That's strategic resolve. That's foresight. They simply don't understand." Liu Tianxian said.

"Only my wife understands me." Fang Hong put his arm around her shoulder.

Liu Tianxian smiled sweetly and rested her head against him.

(End of Chapter)