A New Script and Ning Hao Signs On

By the time Wei Jin arrived at the company, it was already past ten. Looking at the completely renovated office space before him, he nodded in satisfaction.

In mid-December, Chen Zhiming had submitted a report to Wei Jin and upgraded the studio into the Wei Jin Fengliu Film and Television Company.

The old office could no longer meet the company's needs or match Wei Jin's status. With the film a box office hit, they had gone ahead and bought two floors of an office building for less than 50 million in total.

Over the past six months, money had trickled in from various sources. Ringback tones had continued to pump over 80 million into the company, but that had more or less run its course. Payments for December had already fallen to 10 million. There was nothing to be done; no song could stay wildly popular forever.

The novels and Huang Bai's commercial appearances had also brought in several million in profit, just enough to cover the company's expenses.

Over the past six months, Wei Jin had bought homes all over Beijing and Magic City, spending over 20 million. He was making money so fast that he didn't know what else to buy. He had also gradually invested in a few television dramas, though he wasn't counting on making a profit from any of them.

After what happened with Chinese Paladin, Wei Jin had realized that television stations still hadn't found a particularly good way to turn a profit these days and were reluctant to spend money buying dramas. It was difficult for big-budget projects to make money from drama sales alone.

Having figured that out, Wei Jin decided to slow the pace of television development for the time being. The company already had The Infiltrator for this year, so it would be enough to arrange another drama for the second half of the year.

He then opened his computer and circled a name on a list: My Love from the Star.

He chose this script because domestic modern idol dramas at the moment were downright cringe-inducing, with shamate hairstyles and outfits across the board.

Wei Jin planned to make the drama a benchmark for domestic urban idol dramas and export it back to Japan and Korea.

Wei Jin clearly remembered that when the drama came out in his previous life, it had quickly become South Korea's domestic ratings champion and caused a sensation. Its two leads had become famous throughout Asia. The drama was exceptionally good at making stars.

After lunch at the company, Wei Jin was about to leave when Ning Hao called and asked to meet. Wei Jin simply told him to come straight to the company.

The two had been fairly close since returning from Berlin. Ning Hao had also come to support Those Years when it was released, though Wei Jin didn't know what this visit was about.

Half an hour later, Ning Hao arrived at Wei Jin's office, accompanied by Huang Bai.

"How did you two end up together? And you even came over together?"

Wei Jin was fairly familiar with both of them, so he spoke casually.

"Here's the thing. I have a script I've been polishing for a long time, and I think it's ready to go. Your company has always been interested in investing in outside projects, so I came today to show you the script."

Ning Hao explained. In truth, Wei Jin had also spurred him on.

Ning Hao had been born in 1977 and was older than Wei Jin. He had also made his debut earlier, winning best director at the College Student Film Festival back in 2001. Watching his junior win awards and break 100 million at the box office, he would have been lying if he said he wasn't envious.

"As for Huang Bai, he took a liking to the script and wanted to act in it, so he decided to come find you with me."

"Old Wei, let me tell you, this script is really interesting. Seriously."

Seeing that Ning Hao was being somewhat tactful, Huang Bai came right out and praised the script.

It dawned on Wei Jin that it was probably the script for Crazy Stone. He had seen the film in his previous life, and it had indeed been well made.

He casually flipped through the script Ning Hao handed him. The story was much the same as what he remembered, and he made up his mind.

"What's the project budget?"

"Four million will be enough."

Ning Hao had actually already approached quite a few investors and had only come to Wei Jin because he had no other choice. It wasn't that he and Wei Jin were on bad terms; it was precisely because they were close that he hadn't wanted to ask Wei Jin.

These days, nine out of ten films lost money. Although Ning Hao believed in his own ideas and ability, no one could know whether audiences would buy into a film or whether it would make a profit before its release. As a friend, Ning Hao had to be responsible to Wei Jin.

"Isn't four million a bit too little?"

Wei Jin was somewhat surprised. His own Those Years had cost ten million to shoot, and even then, Han Sanping had thought the investment too small.

"How about this? I'll give you six million. Make the budget a little more generous, and the finished film will turn out better too."

"See, Old Ning? I told you Old Wei was generous with his friends, but you kept hemming and hawing."

Seeing that Wei Jin had decided to invest, Huang Bai laughingly took a jab at Ning Hao.

"Wei Jin, thank you. I won't say anything else. If it loses money, I'll work for you from now on."

Ning Hao was a man with a strong sense of brotherhood. Seeing Wei Jin invest the full amount without a second word and even put in more, he was moved.

"It won't come to that. Investments win some and lose some. That's perfectly normal, so don't feel pressured."

Wei Jin offered a word of reassurance, then called the legal department over to finalize the investment contract.

Once the contract was signed, the three began chatting about this and that. With the goofball Huang Bai around, the atmosphere was relaxed and friendly.

"By the way, senior brother, are you planning to keep going it alone? Running around looking for investors every time you have a project?"

Wei Jin's meaning was already quite clear: he wanted to recruit Ning Hao.

"What else can I do? I couldn't stand losing my freedom after tying myself to a company."

Ning Hao wasn't wrong. Directors like Feng Dapao and Old Mouzi were tied to companies. They didn't have to worry about film investment, but they really didn't have much creative freedom.

"In that case, hear me out and see if you can accept my proposal. Let me make this clear first: whether you accept or not, it won't affect our cooperation this time or our relationship."

Wei Jin explained things clearly upfront. He didn't want Ning Hao to think he was using a favor to demand repayment.

"First, the company promises never to interfere with your creative work. Second, the company won't demand that you produce a certain amount. Third, for your future projects, as long as they pass the company's script review, the company will have the first right to invest."

"You only need to follow the company's arrangements during gaps when you don't have a project. Of course, you'll receive a cut from any project the company arranges for you."

The terms Wei Jin offered could certainly be called full of sincerity. He had really put some thought into finding someone to be his filmmaking tool.

After considering it for a while, Ning Hao agreed.

They called the legal department over again and signed a cooperation agreement. Ning Hao officially became a contracted director of the Wei Jin Fengliu Film and Television Company.

With business taken care of and plenty of time left, they called Chen Zhiming over, and the four of them sat down to play mahjong.

Wei Jin had been a veteran mahjong enthusiast in his previous life: bad at the game but addicted to playing it. After getting to know the others, he had introduced them to mahjong too, so the company had set up a dedicated mahjong room.

As the four played mahjong, they began to chat.

"Stephen Chow really is a beast," Ning Hao said.

Kung Fu had been in theaters for less than a month and had already passed 150 million at the box office. It was on track to become the box office champion of 2004.

A World Without Thieves had also officially ended its theatrical run, finishing at 97 million. In the original timeline, its final box office had reached 120 million. Feng Dapao could only blame his bad luck.

"That's only natural. The film really was well made, and the special effects were good too. The King of Comedy didn't get that title for nothing."

Wei Jin remained unmoved and took it in stride.

"Manager Wei, it's a shame you didn't go to the Golden Horse Awards this time."

The 2004 Golden Horse Awards had been held on December 4. As an award-winning film at the Berlin International Film Festival, Buried Alive was naturally eligible for nomination, and the Golden Horse Awards Organizing Committee had also sent Wei Jin an invitation.

Unfortunately, Wei Jin's new film was being released, so he had regrettably had to miss the ceremony. Otherwise, he might well have won best new director, which was why Chen Zhiming found it such a pity.

"It's nothing. To be honest, I don't care much for best new director. Next time I go, I'll bring back a major award one way or another."