Becoming a Movie Star, System Only Finished Loading After Ten Years
Chapter 123 - 121 Are You Kidding Me? (Request for Monthly Ticket)_2

Chapter 123: Chapter 121 Are You Kidding Me? (Request for Monthly Ticket)_2

Next is the official recording session.

This mini album has been worked on for a total of two months, so it’s been quite a while.

Qi Hao honestly stayed in the recording studio, ignoring everything outside, singing only heartbreak songs.

The protagonist of the album lives a life like a "Model," sings "Where Has the Time Gone," reminisces on "Old Street," yet can’t find someone who represents "This Life Will Not Change," doesn’t truly love "Why Bother Being Together," and needs no "Excessive Explanation."

By the time he came out of the recording studio, those wanting to sell screenplays were already queued up.

This time, the quality of the screenplays was much better.

Even a renowned Xiangjiang director, Wang Jing, threw over a script called "Beautiful Secret Order."

It’s not the five million script-buying gimmick that’s making Xiangjiang big shots look over, mainly because the Xiangjiang market is waning, and Wang Jing has been mingling in Inner Entertainment for a long time.

Besides, Qi Hao had previously acted in "Black and White Forest," co-directed by Wang Jing and Mai Zishan.

Qi Hao certainly didn’t fancy Wang Jing’s script.

Because it can’t possibly win any awards.

Wang Jing has been around for so many years and only got nominated for the Golden Horse Best Screenplay once in 1999.

Upon receiving the new batch of screenplays, Qi Hao screened them, and if he found any good ones, he’d personally reach out and, if convenient for the other party, go out for a meal.

Once they came, they were guests, regardless of whether the screenplay would be taken or not, having a meal and chat not only expanded his network but also taught him a lot through communication.

Eventually, Qi Hao set his eyes on a screenplay about laid-off workers in Northeast China – "Steel Piano."

When the screenwriter Zhang Meng met Qi Hao, he didn’t look very happy.

He always felt like a poor man selling off his children, while Qi Hao seemed like a fat and wealthy landlord.

He wasn’t a professional screenwriter.

After graduating from the Central Academy of Drama in stage art, he was assigned to Liaoning TV station as the art design director and participated in scripting the last piece of the Spring Festival Gala’s "Hoodwink" series skits "Kung Fu," as well as another skit "Talk About Something."

In 2007, he directed his first personal film "Big Ears Bring Fortune," thus starting his directorial career, and he won the Best New Director at the 9th Chinese Film Media Awards with this film.

Qi Hao wanted precisely that award.

This award is worth two hundred million!

"Mr. Zhang, please have a seat!"

Qi Hao didn’t care about the other’s sour face at all, enthusiastically pulling him to have a seat.

You marry someone else’s wife, it’s normal for the husband to look grumpy.

"Thank you." Zhang Meng sat down.

Qi Hao led the conversation, mainly discussing "Big Ears Bring Fortune."

He had the ability to remember things sharply.

As long as he saw a film once, he could remember it perfectly.

Besides, he even memorized dozens of classic film critiques analysis.

For Zhang Meng, it seemed Qi Hao had at least watched "Big Ears Bring Fortune" over ten times.

A person like him, how could you possibly dislike him?

"Hey, do you know how much it cost to make ’Big Ears Bring Fortune’?"

Zhang Meng, coming from Tieling, quickly started chatting with Qi Hao.

"It must have needed three million, right?"

Qi Hao actually knew perfectly well, but you have to play dumb when it’s called for.

"Three million, front and back, together it cost three million."

Zhang Meng gestured with his hand.

"Bro, you’re amazing, such quality with just three million spent."

Qi Hao exaggerated to flatter him.

"But little brother, its box office was only one hundred fifty thousand."

Zhang Meng was practically crying without tears; his family conditions were quite good, with both parents being insiders, and his job at the TV station was quite decent.

However, even the thickest family capital wasn’t enough to cover losses like this.

Savings of several years were all gone; trying to make a new film would require selling his house.

But how much is the house worth?

Moreover, there’s an economic crisis now, and housing prices have dropped considerably compared to when he inquired last year.

"I’ve heard that art films have awards and supports."

Qi Hao knew "Big Ears Bring Fortune" certainly couldn’t earn much, but to say it lost money, it didn’t seem like it lost too much either.

"Ah, you just don’t get it; the eating, taking, carding, demanding, you surely don’t think getting awards is truly based on capabilities!"

When it comes to this, Zhang Meng gets particularly annoyed.

On the dinner table, one can keep ranting, but Qi Hao, focused on business, didn’t overindulge in making them drink.

"You’re really willing to buy my screenplay for three million?"

After the ranting, Zhang Meng only then realized he had come to sell his screenplay.

No, he felt like a wretched man during the layoff tide, riding a bike to send his wife to sell herself.

"Yes, I think it’s worth it." Qi Hao affirmed, commercially it’s definitely not worth it, but in terms of awards, it’s extremely worth it, feeling like it could go for a Venice premiere.

Among the screenplays collected this time, "Steel Piano" stands out excellently, making Qi Hao lose interest in other screenplays.

If it weren’t for being too young to portray the depth needed, afraid of damaging the film quality, he even considered acting himself.

But on further thought, he decided to find someone more suitable.

He lacked the "Steel Piano" screenplay, but not the role of Chen Guili.

Even if the child is adopted, given the bond in this life, they should be treated as one’s own.

"You’re so young, it’s your first time directing, do you know how to make a film?"

Such a questioning was very impolite.

However, Zhang Meng’s main hesitation wasn’t about the three million being too little.

Quite the opposite, he felt three million for his screenplay was ridiculously high.

Under normal circumstances, theatrical release screenplay prices typically start from a hundred thousand yuan, with the specific price depending on the screenwriter’s number of released works and other factors.

Indeed, some well-known screenwriters have screenplays priced at several hundred thousand or even millions, but "Steel Piano" is a script with low commercial value, and fifty to a hundred thousand is considered high.

Zhang Meng’s real hesitation was: Can Qi Hao pull it off?

In 1999, Zhang Meng graduated from the Central Academy of Drama and returned to his hometown Tieling, where he saw a very worn-down piano in Tieling Pingju Theater.

This piano, although still able to make sounds, had cracked surface and keys lacking elasticity.

His father told him that in tough times, the troupe performed model operas without musical accompaniment, and they made this piano themselves.

This self-made piano inspired Zhang Meng to start writing the screenplay for "Steel Piano."

He spent six years writing this screenplay!

Unfortunately, filming it required even more money; Zhang Meng could only shoot "Big Ears Bring Fortune" first, hoping to attract industry capital’s attention.

"Big Ears Bring Fortune" indeed had good reviews, but a three million cost and hundred fifty thousand box office made capital wary.

Big capital wouldn’t touch it; small capital dared not invest.

Upon hearing someone buying screenplays at high prices, he thought about selling it.

Thus, "Steel Piano" got a chance to come to light.

And he would have enough funds to make future projects.

"I’ve read the screenplay, very detailed, with analysis filling even the blank spaces, some sections even have storyboards drawn in places. Frankly, I don’t know if I can film it well; I can only say I will do my best."

Qi Hao could see the creator’s passion and care for their work in the screenplay.

"Simply doing your best is not enough."

Zhang Meng muttered, but actually was quite satisfied with Qi Hao’s attitude.

At least this person wasn’t someone with too much money trying to be an impressive director.

"Mr. Zhang, actually I have a proposal."

Qi Hao, in the process of acquiring—it’s not really acquiring since he paid for it—someone else’s work result, was actually experiencing internal turmoil.

He was inherently a soft-hearted person.

If it weren’t for having a mission.

He could completely use Little Fatty Sheep to invest in this film.

Anyway, losing wouldn’t be losing his money.

However, Qi Hao needed to fulfill a mission, rationally discarding this nonsensical pity.

"What proposal?"

"I plan to invite Mr. Zhang to be the producer for this film, what do you think?"