Chapter 59: Little Wu Truly Loves Cinema!

If this were Hollywood or Hong Kong, and someone demanded foreign rights, I’d slam my fist on the table and shout, “How dare a rookie director even think of laying hands on this?!” Then I’d immediately throw Wu Yuchen out the door.

But this was 1995 in mainland China; upon hearing this, Director Gu merely opened his mouth, then said with a look of concern:

“Little Wu, I know thirty thousand is a bit low, but you don’t have to dip into your own pocket for this!”

“Foreign film rights can bring in money, but no one’s buying our films!”

Twenty thousand isn’t a small sum—Director Gu himself would need to save for two years to earn that much.

As for foreign rights, that’s worthless!

Director Gu wasn’t unaware that award-winning films could sell rights—but you have to win an award first!

In recent years, he’d only heard that films like Farewell My Concubine and In the Heat of the Sun and Zhang Yimou’s movies had buyers; which other director had ever sold rights?

A low-budget film with a thirty-thousand-yuan cost—could Director Gu really expect it to win a major prize? Don’t make me laugh!

If major prizes were that easy to win, would they be so prized?

So in Director Gu’s view, Wu Yuchen was just using this as an excuse to funnel money into Our Two project.

Wu Yuchen’s face turned serious, speaking with genuine sincerity:

“Director Gu, these twenty thousand are my own earnings—I don’t spend much on myself, so putting it into the crew is putting it to good use, and it eases my conscience.”

“This film is my life’s work; if I lose money, I can earn it back—but if I make a bad film, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life!”

“Besides, everyone needs dreams—what if I actually win an award and make it all back?”

“You… sigh!”

Seeing Wu Yuchen’s firm resolve, Director Gu knew artists sometimes loved their works more than their own children—he could only sigh.

Little Wu truly loves cinema!

“Alright, I’ll agree to this. If you really bring back an award for our film channel, I’ll bask in your glory!” Director Gu then smiled.

The film channel’s own productions were meant solely for broadcast on their channel; they didn’t care about foreign rights at all—those few bucks meant nothing compared to their advertising revenue.

And frankly, many officials in the system didn’t care whether a project turned a profit—or rather, profit wasn’t important to them since it didn’t go into their pockets.

Take The Mountain, the Man, and the Dog: domestic box office was zero because no theater would screen it; even with forty-eight thousand yuan from selling TV rights to the film channel, total income was under a million, a massive loss against three million invested. But the producer Kang Jianmin made a fortune—his film swept three Golden Rooster Awards and multiple “Five Ones Project” honors. The studio lost money, but these accolades were earned under his leadership—that was his achievement!

In today’s domestic film industry, award prestige couldn’t be measured in money.

Roughly twenty years later, regulations were issued stating that winning the “Five Ones Project” awarded six million yuan; winning an Oscar in the main competition category awarded two million yuan. These were official figures—clearly, for those in the system, the domestic “Five Ones” were worth far more than the Oscars!

After leaving the film channel building, Wu Yuchen smiled—he’d just signed the papers, and foreign rights to Our Two were now his. He didn’t expect any box office in this market; the most valuable part of the film was now in his hands.

That evening, at Jingying Campus.

Jiang Qinqin lightly pulled her hand away from Wu Yuchen, turning her face aside, pouting:

“Are you really this petty? I just didn’t give you anything—why are you so impatient?”

Wu Yuchen frowned: “What are you talking about?”

“Then why, now that you’re making a film, didn’t you even consider me?” Jiang Qinqin asked, hurt.

Hearing this, Wu Yuchen immediately understood—she was upset because he hadn’t chosen her as the female lead.

He pulled Jiang Qinqin into his arms and soothed her:

“Good Qinqin, of course I thought of you! I thought of you first—but after thinking it over, I had to painfully cross you off.”

Jiang Qinqin looked up at Wu Yuchen, eyes wide with confusion.

“Because you’re too beautiful! This role needs someone ordinary—you’re naturally stunning, no makeup can hide it, and I’d be distracted every day just looking at you—I couldn’t convince myself to cast you as an ordinary girl!”

Jiang Qinqin’s lips curved upward at this romantic line; her mood lifted, yet she still asked:

“But your script doesn’t say the girl can’t be pretty?”

“This is a realistic film—the plot isn’t complex, so I need authenticity. The audience must believe the lead is an ordinary girl. How could anyone believe she’s ordinary if she looks like you?”

Jiang Qinqin found his reasoning sound, then tentatively asked:

“So who are you thinking of? Xu Jinglei from junior year? Liu Zi? Or someone from Central Drama Academy?”

“I won’t use anyone from Jingying or Central Drama. Stop guessing—I have a serious question to ask you!”

Wu Yuchen then glared and slapped her rear:

“Hey, Jiang Qinqin, do you really think so lowly of me?”

“Huh? No! I just spoke without thinking—I didn’t mean it!” Jiang Qinqin protested.

Wu Yuchen pressed further:

“Hmph, not thinking means it’s your true feeling!”

“So this is how you really see me? I’m truly heartbroken!”

“I really didn’t mean it that way…”

“So you dislike me touching you? Then I’ll keep my distance from now on!”

“I don’t! I’m thrilled to be touched!” Jiang Qinqin quickly hugged Wu Yuchen.

Wu Yuchen was delighted inside, but kept his face stern: “I don’t believe you—prove it to me.”

Jiang Qinqin rose on her toes and kissed him; Wu Yuchen immediately pulled her close into a long, deep kiss, holding her tightly, then pulled back after a long moment: “Do you like that?”

Jiang Qinqin buried her head in Wu Yuchen’s chest and softly murmured, “Mm.”

Wu Yuchen bit her ear: “Then why didn’t you say yes to me that day?”

Jiang Qinqin blushed, then whispered like a mosquito:

“If I hadn’t gone home that night, they’d have laughed me to death—I wouldn’t have had the face to stay in the dorm!”

Now understanding the reason, Wu Yuchen knew exactly what to do—he grinned:

“Then stay a few extra days after winter break.”

Seeing Jiang Qinqin didn’t object, curled up in his arms, Wu Yuchen beamed and kissed her cheek again.