Chapter Fifteen: You Were the One Who Started Joking.

After several rounds of drinking, Xu Ming remained tight-lipped, showing no sign of wavering despite Wang Zhongjun’s overt and covert attempts to recruit him.

Growing impatient, Wang finally said bluntly, “This film project has a low budget, but there are many risks involved. For instance, it’s your first time writing a screenplay, and you’ve never been the lead actor in a movie before.”

“Hua Yi can invest, but we get to choose the female lead, handle all the marketing and promotion, and you’ll have to agree to a role in a TV series with us as well. That’s non-negotiable,” he added.

Xu Ming almost laughed out loud at the blatant trap—knowing he was a novice in film, they were trying to exploit him completely.

The female lead chosen by Hua Yi, promotion handled by Hua Yi, and he even had to commit to a TV series contract. In the end, all the benefits would go to Hua Yi. To put it bluntly, Xu Ming’s fee for a single TV drama was several million yuan. This deal basically meant the other party would gain everything without investing anything.

Taking into account the promotional costs, he might even end up losing money, while Hua Yi would profit.

Though he understood this was the price every newcomer had to pay to enter the industry, the harsh terms meant they didn’t see him as anything more than a pawn.

“Let’s do this, Director Wang,” Xu Ming responded seriously. “I’ll sell you the script for Hua Yi for one million yuan. How about that?”

Wang Zhongjun’s confidence wavered slightly, questioning, “Are you joking?”

“You started it,” Xu Ming replied with a smile.

The atmosphere at the table instantly chilled to an icy silence.

In truth, Wang Zhongjun was a master manipulator; otherwise, he wouldn’t have turned an advertising company into the powerhouse that Hua Yi is today.

But it all depended on the person. To him, a newly popular Xu Ming was lucky just to get a meeting.

He never imagined the underdog would dare to push back.

“Heh, you’re really a fearless rookie. Even your mentor wouldn’t speak to me like that,” Wang chuckled lightly, stood up, and said, “Do as you please, Hua Tao. I’m leaving.”

Without another glance at Xu Ming, he left the private room with Huo Siyian.

Given his status, losing his temper with the other party would only damage his reputation. Once this incident spread, Xu Ming would suffer the consequences.

“Talking big, huh? If my mentor were here, you wouldn’t be so cocky,” Xu Ming muttered after they left, then turned to the stiff-faced Teng Huatao. “Director Teng, I have nothing against you personally. Honestly, if I secure the investment, would you be willing to direct?”

Strictly speaking, his mentor belonged to the Northeast circle, while Teng was part of the Beijing faction. Though they had some intersections, fundamentally they were separate, and neither could control the other.

No matter how assertive Wang Zhongjun sounded, once in the Northeast, the first thing to do was pay respects to Xu Ming’s mentor.

As long as Xu Ming didn’t rely on Beijing’s resources, he had no need to grovel.

More importantly, as a reincarnated soul, he clearly understood the Beijing circle’s inevitable decline.

Besides, in the film industry, power and connections don’t guarantee box office success; otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many dark horses every year.

Director Teng wouldn’t drag Lu Ha back to slam the door shut on the emerging domestic sci-fi film market.

Teng Huatao was momentarily stunned when Xu Ming, after criticizing his boss, respectfully asked him a question.

Was this kid polite or rude?

“Well, normally as a Hua Yi contracted director, it’s hard for us to collaborate, but I really like your script…” Teng recalled his own film from two years ago, “Ghost in the Heart,” which had a budget of 40 million yuan with leads Li Ming, Fan Bingbing, and Liu Ruoying.

Despite such a cast, the film’s box office barely reached five million—a catastrophic failure.

It was clear that after such a disastrous flop, Teng’s chances of returning to the big screen anytime soon were slim.

That Xu Ming’s film project had found him was a rare and exciting opportunity.

With this realization, Teng made up his mind. “Making a film requires not just funding but solid distribution channels. Hua Yi is out of the question; you’ll need to bring in another partner.”

“Understood. I’ll wait for the right opportunity,” Xu Ming nodded, sensing Teng’s willingness to join.

The director was crucial to the film’s success. The previous success of "Love Is Not Blind" was inseparable from Teng Huatao’s direction.

Though his sci-fi attempts had failed miserably, he still possessed talent and skill in urban romance.

His hits like "Double Faced Tape," "Dwelling Narrowness," and "Naked Marriage Era" had all been major successes.

The problem was he kept trying to turn small love stories into blockbusters, leading to the colossal flop of "Magic City Fortress."

It was like some web novelists who write great urban stories but then suddenly plunge into high fantasy and die without a fight.

The reason Xu Ming dared to invite him after offending Wang Zhongjun was because he understood how loose the Beijing circle really was.

In the end, all that mattered were interests.

With Teng Huatao’s solid family background as a director, even if he ignored Wang Zhongjun, he would still hold a place in the industry.

...

At the Beizhan Theater, all the senior brothers and disciples gathered, including their master, Benshan.

March 6 marked not only the opening of Xu Ming’s national tour but also the first trial performance of the Liu Laogen Grand Stage in Beijing.

“Xiao Ming, I heard Hua Yi is threatening to blacklist you?” Uncle Benshan asked unexpectedly after rehearsal.

All the disciples perked up their ears.

Blacklist?

What a fancy term.

And Hua Yi, being the leader of private entertainment companies in the country, having a conflict with Xu Ming seemed bizarre.

“It’s about the investment in my film. After I went there, Director Wang wanted me to join Hua Yi, said the investment was fine but the contract had to be with them. I told him my master worked hard to raise me up, and I wouldn’t be unfaithful or disloyal. Not sure how I offended him,” Xu Ming complained, carefully choosing his words.

These stories had happened at the clubhouse, though the sequence was rearranged and some sentences omitted.

Naturally, the meaning shifted.

After all, this was basic skill from his past life as a short-video marketing writer.

Uncle Benshan’s face darkened. At the peak of his career, he was far less low-key and composed than later on; otherwise, he wouldn’t have had a falling out with Ha Wen and quit the Spring Festival Gala in 2013.

In fact, back in 2004, he had clashed with the Gala when his disciple Zhang Xiaofei was pulled offstage mid-performance by the host, prompting Benshan to angrily take the stage.

After that, he disappeared from the Gala, and the airing of "Ma Dashuai" was halted, forcing Old Zhao into submission.

“Master, should I apologize publicly to the media?” Xu Ming asked deliberately.

“No need. I’m here. Let’s see how far they can blacklist you. If worst comes to worst, there’s always the Liu Laogen Grand Stage,” Uncle Benshan waved his hand, clearly feeling anger as well.