Chapter 338: Movie Breakout, Hong Kong Real Estate, Financing Begins

In Shenzhen, when Ning Hao came for a roadshow of The Crazy Race, Yan Li made a special trip to meet him.

“Director Ning, Great Director Ning, you’ve really made a name for yourself this time.”

Yan Li happily wrapped his arm around Ning Hao; The Crazy Race had broken 100 million in five days and 200 million in eleven, crushing The Battle of Chibi: Part II, and was likely to become the second film after Not One Less to surpass 300 million in the New Year’s slot.

Hua Yi, just moments ago basking in triumph, was quickly caught up by Yi An.

The massive success of The Crazy Race naturally lifted Ning Hao’s status.

No, saying his status rose with the tide is too modest—Ning Hao had been deified in a single battle.

Nowadays, domestic films breaking 100 million aren’t that rare, but many are directed by Hong Kong or Taiwan filmmakers.

In fact, among purely commercial mainland directors, only Zhang Yimou, Chen Kaige, and Feng Xiaogang had crossed the 100 million mark—that’s the origin of the term “Big Three Mainland Directors.”

The Crazy Race made Ning Hao the fourth mainland director to enter the 100 million club.

He was also the third mainland director to break 200 million, and a strong contender to become the second to break 300 million.

For a director barely past thirty, these titles spoke volumes.

If earlier labels like “genius director” or “leader of the Sixth Generation” were Yi An’s marketing hype, now, based purely on box office performance, Ning Hao was unquestionably the one.

Even if someone refused to acknowledge it, Yi An would make them acknowledge it.

Hua Yi had gained immense prestige from Feng Xiaogang; Yi An had long been eager to have its own flagship director, and now that Ning Hao had shone, he had to be glorified and elevated to godhood.

Ning Hao grinned broadly—he was reaping fame and fortune from the film’s success, how could he not be happy?

But he knew The Crazy Race had some artificial elements.

The combined production and marketing costs had already climbed toward tens of millions.

That expenditure could rival that of major blockbusters; in other words, The Crazy Race’s success wasn’t solely his own doing.

“What artificial elements? Marketing is part of film commerce—soon, marketing costs will keep rising, even surpassing total production costs.”

Yan Li thought Ning Hao had been influenced by online voices and tried to reassure him.

“Whether it’s The Battle of Chibi or Not One Less, they also spent heavily on marketing—just slightly less in proportion or total amount.”

“Don’t overthink it, don’t obsess—no matter what, our box office is real, the project is profitable, and that’s the hard truth.”

As a director, Ning Hao might think the film itself must genuinely attract audiences, but Yan Li saw further and thought more broadly.

Today’s society is no longer one where good wine needs no bush; since its founding, Yi An had never relaxed its emphasis on promotion.

Marketing doesn’t overshadow the film itself—it enhances and amplifies its appeal as a supporting force.

If the film itself is weak, no amount of marketing helps; only when both work in tandem can true success be achieved.

To be blunt, ramping up marketing is nothing—some companies resort to all sorts of tricks to boost box office: buying tickets, phantom screenings, and more.

Compared to them, Yan Li was practically an honest, law-abiding man.

Besides the brand-new Great Director Ning receiving Yan Li’s warm welcome, the male lead Huang Bao also enjoyed excellent treatment.

“Bao’er, you’ve really made it big—Deng Chao is terrified you’ll steal his top spot.”

Huang Bao flashed his signature grin: “He’s worrying too much—my image? If I became top guy, wouldn’t that embarrass our company?”

The Crazy Race made Huang Bao a star, boosting his fame and status, but claiming he’d dethrone Deng Chao was nonsense.

Not to mention Deng Chao’s People’s Righteous Path is currently a smash TV drama, reaping rewards nearly as substantial as Huang Bao’s.

More importantly, the company’s top guy isn’t decided by film box office alone—if it were, Hua Yi’s top guy would be Ge You or Zhang Hanyu.

Top guy and top girl are judged by popularity, exposure, and commercial clout; Huang Bao, as a serious actor, is lucky to land second place.

“Don’t be modest—I’m counting on you. Put some pressure on Deng Chao.”

Yan Li was genuinely pleased: The Crazy Race had produced both a renowned director and a comedy sensation, both under Yi An’s banner—what a windfall.

More crucially, both Ning and Huang had been nurtured from obscurity by Yi An, powerfully demonstrating its talent development and star-making ability.

Compared to Hua Yi and Orange Sky, whose majority of artists are “mercenaries,” Yi An was far ahead.

Yan Li planned The Crazy Race’s victory party for when it broke 300 million, but since he’d come personally, he couldn’t leave without some gesture—he arranged a private small celebration for the crew.

“This is Gao Jie.”

“This is Jiu Kong.”

Ning Hao introduced each key crew member to Yan Li.

The Crazy Race featured many Taiwanese artists because filming took place in Xiamen, and Ning Hao needed performers fluent in Minnan dialect.

Since he couldn’t find suitable Fujianese artists, he turned to Taiwan, where Minnan dialect is also widely spoken.

This decision made The Crazy Race quite popular in Taiwan.

Since mainland release was complicated, Yi An first sold DVD and online streaming rights, earning a modest profit.

“Director Yan, thank you for your support—I’ll drink this one.”

Yan Li had some fame in Taiwan, though less than in mainland China or Hong Kong, but everyone who worked in the mainland knew him.

The Crazy Race had no major stars, and no one dared to act superior in front of Yan Li—everyone was polite.

Yan Li had no airs—he chatted, laughed, ate, drank, and gave each person a gift before leaving.

All were elegant souvenirs: pens, mugs, lighters—nothing expensive, just a few hundred to a thousand yuan each; Huang Bao and Ning Hao received special gifts: each got a watch worth tens of thousands, a small bonus.

Ning Hao didn’t mind—he was close to Yan Li and used to free meals and drinks; Huang Bao, receiving Yan Li’s personal gift for the first time, proudly wore the watch, thrilled.

“Our boss is really generous.”

“That’s nothing.”

Ning Hao smiled: “Yan Zong isn’t great at many things, but when it comes to paying, he never holds back—the more you deliver, the more generous he becomes.”

“Wait till the roadshow ends—your next project and commercial deals will be arranged. If you maintain this momentum, your contract terms will be revised proactively.”

Huang Bao hadn’t lacked roles since joining Yi An two years ago, but his fame and status meant his income was modest.

Now that The Crazy Race was a smash, Yi An wouldn’t miss the chance to exploit it—Huang Bao earns, the company earns.

So as expected, Huang Bao was about to enjoy a hot streak.

As for Ning Hao himself, he was reaping immense profits: besides his director’s fee, he received royalties, and more importantly, he’d earned the company’s trust, increasing his share of original equity.

These days, he was red-hot, and several companies had offered him deals—he ignored them all.

Yi An had money, clout, and the big prize of listed shares dangling—only a fool would jump ship.

Not only did he stay, Ning Hao warned Huang Bao not to do anything foolish.

He wouldn’t have said so before, but now Huang Bao had a real shot at original equity.

They were good friends and supported each other at the company; Ning Hao couldn’t let him walk into a trap.

“Don’t worry—I’m not that foolish.”

Huang Bao scratched his head—Yi An was thriving and treated him well; with The Crazy Race pushing him up, he couldn’t leave just as he was rising.

Not just out of loyalty—he didn’t think Yan Li was a kind man; if he crossed the river and broke the bridge, Yan Zong might just break him.

…

Back in Hong Kong, Yan Li was scrolling through reviews of The Crazy Race on his phone.

Compared to The Crazy Stone, this film was more mature—Ning Hao’s signature dark humor, multi-threaded plot, and quotable lines were exceptional.

This was precisely why Yi An had a real chance to push The Crazy Race past 300 million.

Otherwise, with its cast alone, the film simply wouldn’t have drawn that level of attention.

Excellent quality, explosive word-of-mouth, successful marketing, plus the contrast with The Battle of Chibi—it had all the advantages of heaven, earth, and human harmony.

“What a pity about Painted Skin.”

Yan Li still felt regret—Painted Skin had missed the National Day slot; though its performance was still excellent, the more so it made people wonder: if it had released during National Day, Yi An might already have two 300 million+ films.

As he lamented, Yan Li silently calculated The Crazy Race’s profits.

Although Yi An had dramatically increased marketing costs—even claiming it was prepared to lose money.

In reality, the film was still profitable—and profitably so.

If the box office broke 300 million, the studio and distributor would split roughly 120 million, instantly recouping the tens of millions in costs, not to mention all the ancillary revenues.

According to Yan Li’s estimate, the film’s total revenue would be between 140 and 160 million.

This was only a rough estimate—he wasn’t certain, because truly phenomenon-level films were hard to predict.

For normal films, rights and ancillary revenues depended heavily on the market, with prices generally falling within a range, depending on how many rights you could sell.

But that was for normal films; The Crazy Race breaking 300 million, in today’s market, was a potential annual champion—a super-hit.

This meant its rights and ancillary revenues would inevitably carry a premium—even record-breaking premiums—with diverse buyers, defying conventional logic.

Yan Li and Yi An had experience with this.

Previously, Painted Skin had been a smash, boosted by the “Double Ice” effect, and its non-box-office rights performed exceptionally well.

Revenues from TV, online, overseas, DVD, books, commercial partnerships, image licensing, and merchandise totaled nearly 60 million.

The Crazy Race had higher box office, but due to its genre and cast, Yan Li thought it unlikely to match Painted Skin—but you never knew.

What if The Crazy Race turned out to be wildly popular in every way?!

Just half a month ago, no one imagined a film with a few million budget could crush The Battle of Chibi, which cost hundreds of millions.