Chapter 151: The Yian Film & Television Screenwriting Team: Melodramatic Reality Time-Travel

Yan Li's conversation with Liu Yanming was quite pleasant.

Zhou Yiwei's matter is settled; although "Bright Sword" hasn't been discussed yet, the bait is cast and the line is laid—later, at a suitable moment, both sides can benefit mutually.

Since Yan Li is giving Hairen a share of his new project, he can also conveniently claim a share of "Bright Sword."

"Sigh."

The groundwork is fine, but Yan Li is worried about what project to launch.

He had previously considered "The Legend of the White Snake," but CCTV has already scheduled it to shoot after "Baolian Deng," and reportedly casting has already begun.

"Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio" has also been locked in by Tangren, who've already decided to film "New Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio."

However, one screenwriter proposed adapting "In Search of the Supernatural" as an anthology series.

For example, the husband-and-wife swordsmen tale "Ganjiang and Moye," the girl slaying the serpent "Li Ji Slays the Serpent," or the love story "The Young Daughter of the Wu King"—all could be adapted, infused with various elements to become stories acceptable to modern audiences.

This project is among the few Yan Li favors, but he's dissatisfied with the drafts and concerned about the high risk.

Historical dramatizations are plentiful, and there are many stories and figures to draw from.

The only two Yan Li slightly approves of are "Zhu Yuanzhang" and "The Legend of Xue Rengui."

But both dramas are weak, packed with plot holes; to make them well, the investment would be huge, leaving Yan Li deeply conflicted.

Yet no matter how much he worries, he must think—Yan Li can't rely solely on the system to survive; Yian needs to grow, and it must have long-term, stable, standout flagship projects.

There's still some time left; Yan Li plans to wait a bit longer, and if nothing better emerges, he'll pick one or two from these projects.

He can lower his expectations and bring in more financiers and investors to share the risk.

Not every drama can be a hit; modest success is acceptable too—it's just about nurturing talent and training the team.

"We still lack good stories."

Yan Li increasingly recognized the importance of a good screenwriter.

Hairen doesn't worry about projects at all—Hai Yan writes anything, and they shoot it; each one becomes a hit.

Zhang Da Hu Zi has Jin Yong's fourteen novels—【"Flying Snow, Connecting Heaven, Shooting White Deer; Laughing, Writing Heroes, Leaning on Green Parrots"—and picking and choosing from them is enough for years of productions.

And Zhou Yi—after "Water Moon Cave Heaven" became a hit, his writing team's sequels are pouring out nonstop.

Yan Li decided: upon returning, he'd start planning to build Yian's screenwriting team.

He'd throw down serious money—he refused to believe he couldn't attract a few talented people.

…

Yan Li acted quickly and soon issued a public recruitment notice, inviting screenwriters with generous terms.

To attract talent, Yian proclaimed: "Base monthly salary over ten thousand; a great script earns a million."

In 2004, this pay scale made even many established screenwriters hesitate.

Of course, slogans are slogans—everyone knows the reality.

But some mid- and lower-tier screenwriters still took a chance, thinking even a third of that would be substantial.

Especially for bottom-tier screenwriters, whose income is low and unstable, barely scraping by—having a steady salary with office hours was a huge temptation.

Yian Film & Television soon received a flood of resumes, including plot outlines and scripts—after all, screenwriters prove their ability best by their scripts.

While the company was still screening resumes, Yan Li had already used the system to identify several promising candidates.

Soon, Yian Film & Television held its first interview.

Five people sat in Yian's conference room; the atmosphere was quiet.

All were content creators—brilliant when holding pens or typing—but in reality, most were introverted; even the few who were outgoing stayed silent under the pressure of environment and competition.

Soon, a round-faced girl pushed open the door and explained the interview rules.

There weren't really any rules—just take turns interviewing: one person interviewed while the others waited; the company provided tea and leisure magazines.

"Gentlemen, anyone volunteer to go first? If not, we'll proceed by sign-in order."

The five exchanged glances, saying nothing—just as the round-faced girl reached for the sign-in sheet, a young man with glasses raised his hand.

"I'll go first."

The round-faced girl checked the sign-in sheet: "Teacher Yu Zheng, right? Please follow me; the others, wait a moment."

Yu Zheng exhaled, then pursed his lips and followed the girl to the office, knocked, and entered—only one person was there to interview him: Yan Li, the boss of Yian Film & Television.

"Director Yan, hello, I'm Yu Zheng."

"Sit down, have some water first."

Yu Zheng bowed; Yan Li was courteous, gesturing for him to sit on the sofa, then personally poured him a glass of water.

Then he picked up the interview files beside him, pulled out Yu Zheng's resume and the system-recorded personal screenwriting traits.

【Emphasizes commercial elements, possesses certain innovation, skilled at reading audience psychology】

The screenwriters Yan Li selected each had strengths, but only two possessed 【commercial elements】—Yu Zheng's evaluation was overall higher.

Yet Yu Zheng's resume was underwhelming; his only substantial credit was "The Legend of Jing Ke," which hadn't even aired yet.

He'd also read the sample script he submitted—honestly, he couldn't see the advantages the system mentioned.

Oh, there was innovation—yes, the historical revisions were grotesque; Yan Li's blood pressure rose just reading it.

If this counted as "innovation," he had nothing to say.

Yan Li didn't think the system would deceive him—it must be the script's problem—so he called Yu Zheng in for an interview to talk face-to-face.

"Here's the thing: you've probably heard of 'The Seven Fairies of Joy and Happiness.' Here are the personality traits of several characters—can you come up with a few stories or plotlines based on them?"

Yu Zheng didn't expect to have to write a script on the spot—he was stunned, then quickly felt elated.

This was his strength!

He'd long been known for his fast writing speed; after spending time in Hong Kong and Taiwan, he wrote even faster—this kind of test was a nuisance or even nonsense to some screenwriters, but it hit him perfectly.

He scanned the character traits briefly, thought for less than two minutes, then began speaking fluently.

Like the fifth fairy secretly loving the seventh fairy's husband, the first and second fairies' husbands pining unrequitedly, the sixth, fourth, and third fairies entangled in a love triangle.

Ugh~

Yan Li watched Yu Zheng grow more excited—finding some plots absurd and melodramatic, yet he vaguely understood why the system said he emphasized commercial elements and understood audience psychology.

Though he didn't want to admit it, this kind of melodramatic multi-love triangle had a huge market—some viewers cursed while watching, yet watched even more eagerly the more they cursed.

Yan Li flipped through Yu Zheng's submitted script again—it was conventional, probably to avoid standing out and getting rejected.

But now, faced with the challenge of the seven fairies' complex romantic theme and pressured to deliver something striking, he abandoned screenwriting techniques and let his true nature burst forth.

A genius scribbler!

Yan Li gave his preliminary assessment: this style, if played well, could be a massive hit; if played poorly, he'd just get roasted.

Roasted vs. making money

Yan Li raised his hand to stop Yu Zheng's "creation," thought for a moment, then pulled out a script.

"Here are several stories from 'In Search of the Supernatural'—pick one and write a 10- to 15-episode script, following your own style just now."

"Finish it, whether good or not, I'll pay you 50, 00 as your service fee."

"But if you write something great, come work for the company, and we'll discuss salary—minimum 10, 00 per month; also, if we use your script, you get a royalty, and if it's a blockbuster, you get a bonus."

"I'm not lying—you can ask any employee after you leave about salaries, especially from marketing—they make money for me, I make money for them."

Yu Zheng's eyes lit up—he loved bosses who talked plainly about money.

Previously, his master, Hong Kong director Li Huimin, spoke beautifully.

But he treated Yu Zheng like free labor—living in a basement, writing countless scripts without earning a cent; his master's wife promised him a big red envelope for the New Year, then gave him only 5, 00 yuan.

The only silver lining was that he'd at least been included in "The Legend of Jing Ke," giving him a credit—otherwise, today's interview would have had nothing worth mentioning.

Yu Zheng left happily; Yan Li marked a question mark after his name, sat silently for a moment, then moved on to the next screenwriter.

That morning, Yan Li interviewed five screenwriters; only two reached an agreement.

One was Yu Zheng; the other was Xu Bing.

His resume was the best of all the screenwriters—he'd contributed to multiple TV dramas, including "Heaven Has Eyes" and "Little Soldier Zhang Ga."

Notably, he'd originally been a screenwriter for a company under Hairen, lured by Yian's generous offer to switch jobs.

Compared to Yu Zheng, Xu Bing excelled in Republican-era and realistic themes—a typical literary-drama screenwriter of the current era.

Yan Li trusted him more, but didn't share the same mix of suspicion and faint hope he felt toward Yu Zheng.

In the afternoon, four more screenwriters were interviewed—this time even worse; only one was kept.

Zuo Le—strictly speaking, he wasn't a screenwriter but a web novelist.

He impressed Yan Li because of an unfinished script—or rather, a web novel.

"I Am Fan Li"

The story follows a protagonist who time-travels to the Spring and Autumn period, becomes Fan Li, woos Xi Shi, helps Yue destroy Wu, then becomes a legendary merchant, retiring with his beauty.

Though labeled a time-travel drama, it's really just Fan Li's biography grafted onto a time-traveler, with modern and time-travel elements added—like commerce and dating, helping Goujian scheme against King Fuchai of Wu.

It also includes trendy melodramatic tropes like tragic love and cuckoldry—for example, Xi Shi uses her beauty for Yue's cause, leaving the male lead suffering helplessly.

Speaking of this, Yan Li got angry—he'd read several web novels with similar plots.

As if a male lead wasn't deep or shocking unless he was betrayed or the female lead died—a bunch of dead-eyed literati.

Still, the time-travel + sleeping on brushwood and tasting gall story did intrigue Yan Li—he planned to take the script and the man in for polishing.

At the same time, Zuo Le's appearance reminded Yan Li: he'd been so focused on finding talent in the screenwriting industry, he'd ignored internet talent and good stories.

Yan Li even considered funding or investing in a small website dedicated to collecting such stories—after all, the great wave would eventually sift out some gold…

————

ps: Tomorrow's update will be 10, 00+ words. Also seeking suitable film/TV project suggestions: historical costume + high commercial elements + talent-nurturing; web novels from before 2004 or original concepts welcome.

(End of chapter)