Chapter 72: A Dramatic Change in Attitude

After his conversation with Huang Guokun, Huang Guolun fully grasped how dire the current promotional situation was for “A Corpse of Grace.” Online films like this usually have a revenue-sharing period of three to six months, much longer than the theatrical releases. Yet, the bulk of their box office comes in the first month; viewership drops sharply thereafter. If the film fails to generate strong numbers in that first month, it will soon face the onslaught of piracy and, without any platform actively promoting it, the project could easily fade into obscurity.

No matter how fine the wine, if it’s hidden in a back alley, few will ever taste it. “A Corpse of Grace” might be an excellent film, but if no one knows of its existence, if no one watches it, then all their hard work is for nothing. At present, the major streaming platforms only promote their own exclusive online films. None would waste resources to push a film like “A Corpse of Grace,” which is available across all platforms. Even if the film is high quality and turns a profit for the platform, not one would be willing to champion it. Should they make the film a hit, and the producers sign an exclusive deal for the next installment with another platform, it would be as if they’d labored solely to benefit a competitor.

No one in this business is foolish. Even though Huang Guokun has had frank exchanges with all the platforms, promising that the next, more ambitious installment in the “A Corpse” series from Kunlun Culture will also be released across all platforms, never signing an exclusive deal, such promises mean little to the platforms. What they need now are high-quality exclusives to compete and carve out their own territory. Huang Guokun’s approach runs counter to their core interests. All they want is for Kunlun Culture to sign an exclusive agreement with them; if not, they simply won’t bother with him at all.

Here, Huang Guokun was too confident—perhaps even arrogant. Having worked on big-budget films before and setting his sights on the major film market, Huang Guokun never really valued the online film sector. In his mind, online films were just a preparation ground for Kunlun Culture—a way to bide their time, keep a low profile, and build a following. Once they weathered these years, he would throw himself back into the big movie market—that was always his real gamble.

His main goal in venturing into online cinema was to give Kunlun Culture greater visibility. To ensure more viewers could see their productions, Huang Guokun resolutely insisted on the cross-platform release strategy. He believed that as long as the film’s quality was solid and it climbed to the top of the major streaming charts, they could rely on word of mouth to break through—even without any official promotion.

The key now was to get the film in front of as many eyes as possible right after its release, especially with no platform support. If they could hit the top five—or even the top three—on the major websites’ viewing charts in the first week, then the film’s road ahead would be wide open. But if they stumbled out of the gate, with dismal viewer numbers that first week, the film’s prospects would be bleak.

At this moment, Huang Guokun felt both excited and anxious, leading his team to pour every effort into the publicity work for the film’s debut week. He was determined not to let this fine wine sit forgotten in a deep alley.

Huang Guolun could see how anxious Huang Guokun was, and he understood just how precarious the company’s situation had become. At times like this, he was more than willing to lend a hand.

That very evening, he decided to skip the weekend trip to the northern suburbs villa. Instead, he would take Huang Tao and Bai Yao to the zoo. Huang Tao had mentioned several times that she hadn’t been to the zoo in ages and wanted to see the orangutans, so he figured this was the perfect opportunity.

He would set aside his literary pretensions and personally don the promotional T-shirt for “A Corpse of Grace,” becoming a walking billboard for the film. As for whether Bai Yao should also wear the somewhat embarrassing T-shirt, he decided to ask her opinion first.

That night, after Huang Guokun left, Huang Guolun showed the T-shirt to Bai Yao and briefly explained the current situation. When Bai Yao learned that Kunlun Culture was distributing T-shirts, hoping more people would wear them to promote the film, she gladly took one and told Huang Guolun she could wear it to school the next day.

“No, no, you shouldn’t wear this to school,” he said.

“It’s fine, Teacher. I actually think this T-shirt is stylish—better looking than my own. I can wear it under my uniform in class so it won’t show, and then during breaks or lunchtime, I’ll show it off to my classmates. Who knows, maybe Zhang Liang and the others will like it and ask for one. If they do, I’ll hand out a few and get them to wear them while playing basketball—more eyes on the shirt that way.”

But Huang Guolun shook his head. “No, absolutely not. If this kind of advertising shows up at school, the administration will definitely come to talk to me. It’s a serious issue—no commercial ads are allowed in school. If you want to wear it, save it for when we go out this weekend.”

Bai Yao understood his concern and agreed readily. “Alright, I’ll wait till the weekend. Or maybe... I could just keep it in my bag the next couple of days and put it on after school, once I’m outside the gates. There are a lot of people in Xidan—if I wear it on my way home, plenty will see it.”

Huang Guolun laughed. “You’re really enthusiastic. Don’t you think the T-shirt is a bit embarrassing?”

Bai Yao smoothed her neat short hair and smiled. “Teacher, I dared to cut my hair down to a millimeter—do you really think this would bother me? Besides, I actually think the T-shirt is funnier than all those joke-logo shirts on the market. Especially the line the zombie says on the front—it’s hilarious. People will remember ‘A Corpse of Grace’ when they see it.”

Huang Guolun was speechless. Was he really becoming out of touch with the times? Was that slogan actually clever?

Knowing how hard it was for Huang Guokun to get people to wear the shirts, Bai Yao took the initiative to grab half of the stash—one for herself, the rest for Zhang Liang and a few other lively classmates. To avoid causing trouble for Huang Guolun, she planned to hand them out Friday afternoon, so that Zhang Liang and his friends—who admired Huang Guolun—could help promote the film over the weekend.

Bai Yao’s enthusiasm and high opinion of the T-shirt gave Huang Guolun a much-needed morale boost. As for the rest of the shirts, he planned to give them only to friends, not anyone at school, to avoid trouble.

But he was determined to give some to Sun Yanzhen, and not just one—he wanted to give her several. Sun Yanzhen had lots of young friends; if possible, he hoped she could pass them on, helping to spread the word about “A Corpse of Grace” in her circles.

The next day at work, Huang Guolun sent Sun Yanzhen a message: “Are you free for lunch? My treat.”

Sun Yanzhen was just leaving her office to supervise her class’s morning self-study when she got the message. Her stern homeroom-teacher expression instantly became a playful smile as she replied, “What’s up? Didn’t you just treat me yesterday?” They’d had claypot rice the day before, his treat.

Huang Guolun was direct: “I have a favor to ask. If you’re free at noon, let’s go to Claypot House again?”

She responded, “I have a meeting at noon today, and Claypot House is too far. Let’s just eat near school—have you tried that new Sichuan place? Heard it’s good.”

“OK, Sichuan it is,” he agreed.

“I can get out by 11:30. You come early, too.”

“I’ll be there first and order, you come straight over.”

“Don’t order too much! Two or three dishes are plenty. I’m not that hungry—I had a big breakfast and I’m still stuffed.”

...

Huang Guolun didn’t say what he was thinking: sometimes he felt that Sun Yanzhen and Huang Tao were cut from the same cloth—unable to resist good food until they’d eaten themselves silly.

Just after 11, Huang Guolun arrived at the Sichuan place to order. As Sun Yanzhen had advised, he didn’t order too much—one signature dish and two vegetable sides. Seeing her favorite papaya with snow frog on the menu, he ordered that for her too.

Sun Yanzhen arrived just as the dessert was being served. She was frazzled by newly assigned tasks and intended to eat quickly and get back to the office to work. But the sight of the lovely papaya dessert brightened her mood instantly.

“Well, you’re thoughtful, Mr. Huang. You still remember I like papaya with snow frog. For that alone, I’ll grant any favor you ask. So, what is it?”

“It’s not a big deal, but a bit awkward to bring up,” he began, though by now he’d already resolved to set aside his pride and help his brother, so there was really nothing awkward about it. He took out a shrink-wrapped T-shirt and, while her spirits were high, explained the situation succinctly.

After listening, Sun Yanzhen took the shirt from its plastic, examined it front and back, and said with a laugh, “That’s some in-your-face advertising. Brother Kun is determined to see the ‘Corpse’ series through to the end, isn’t he?”

She’d had dinner before with Huang Guokun, knew Huang Guolun had a brother who ran a film company, and had seen both earlier “Corpse” films from Kunlun Culture. Whether she liked them was another question, but she was at least familiar with them.

“My brother’s new film is really good—the whole thing was shot in Thailand. If you don’t count Hong Kong and Taiwan zombie movies, this might be the best Chinese zombie film yet.”

Sun Yanzhen thought for a moment. “Are there any real Chinese zombie films, outside of the old Hong Kong ones?”

“There are, but only online movies. Nothing in theaters. Of all the zombie-themed online films I’ve seen, ‘A Corpse of Grace’ is definitely the best. So if you could pass these shirts to some of your friends, I think young people would like this film.”

Sun Yanzhen smiled wryly. “Honestly, Mr. Huang, even if they like the movie, they’d never wear a shirt like this in public. For girls like Lu Rou and her crowd, you’d have better luck killing them than getting them to wear this T-shirt around. I’ll see if I can give a few to some of my male friends, but whether they’ll wear them out, I really can’t guarantee. I doubt I have that much influence.”

“I understand. Just your willingness to help is thanks enough for my brother. When there’s a chance, I’ll have him treat you to a meal.”

She nodded with a smile, putting the T-shirt back in its bag. Clearly, she didn’t care much for this kind of joke T-shirt either.

Huang Guolun didn’t press her to wear it herself.

Over lunch, Huang Guolun brought up the film again. “The end-credits song for this film is sung by our school’s star student, Bai Yao. You know Bai Yao, right?”

“Of course.” Sun Yanzhen looked surprised. “With her voice... she can sing?”

“Not only can she sing, she sings beautifully! When the film comes out, you must watch it to the end—I promise you’ll be amazed by her singing.”

Sun Yanzhen, struck by a thought, asked, “How did Bai Yao end up singing your brother’s movie’s theme? Did you set that up? And don’t tell me you wrote the song, too?”

Huang Guolun smiled and nodded. “Yes, I did most of the film’s music, including the theme song.”

Sun Yanzhen’s attitude changed instantly. She slapped the table: “That’s settled then! I’ll definitely watch it! I really trust your musical taste. As for the T-shirts you said your brother made too many of—if you’ve got a lot left, give me fifty-five more white ones.”

Huang Guolun thought he misheard. “Did you say five or fifty-five?”

“Fifty-five! I’ll give one to every student in my class. It’ll be our team shirt for this weekend’s activities. I’m taking my class hiking on Xiangshan this Sunday to build team spirit. If everyone wears the shirt, it’ll be great advertising!”

“Are you sure? What if someone photographs you and accuses you of using students for advertising? Even if no one does, if your students decide to report you, that could be serious trouble.”

“They love me too much to do that! Don’t worry, I have my ways—just prepare as many T-shirts as you can. I’ll make sure this goes off without a hitch.”

Huang Guolun was genuinely moved. “Thank you so much. If my brother’s film becomes a big hit, I’ll make sure he treats you to a feast!”

“I don’t care to eat with your brother—he always lights a cigar after eating, and the smell is awful. If you really want to thank me, take Taozi and me out for a fun day sometime—that’s the best reward.”

“No problem!” Huang Guolun agreed at once.

They enjoyed a wonderful meal together. On the way back to school, Sun Yanzhen’s mind returned to the mountain of work waiting for her, and she began to fret again.

When it came to class management, Huang Guolun was inexperienced and couldn’t help much. The only thing he could do was try to cheer her up with a joke.

He remembered that Sun Yanzhen once nearly choked with laughter when Teacher Hu told a Judge Dee joke. So he set aside his dignity and, hoping to make her smile, told her a similarly risqué Judge Dee joke:

“The joke goes like this: a car is parked in the middle of nowhere. Judge Dee brings Yuanfang to investigate. ‘Yuanfang, what do you think of this car?’ Yuanfang replies, ‘Sir, for it to be parked out here, there must be something suspicious!’ Judge Dee lifts the hood, exclaims, ‘Aha! Yuanfang, you’re right—there’s an engine! But there’s also a corpse in the car. Yuanfang, what do you make of that?’ Yuanfang says, ‘Sir, there must be something peculiar about this person.’ Judge Dee counts the features on the corpse’s face. ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven... This person really does have seven orifices! Yuanfang, you are indeed my capable assistant!’ Then Judge Dee adds, ‘And this victim is a beauty! Yuanfang, what do you think?’ Yuanfang answers, ‘There must be a great secret hidden on her body.’ Judge Dee lifts the victim’s clothes, stares in shock: ‘In all my life, I’ve never seen such big brea—sts! Yuanfang, you’re amazing!’”

Maybe it was the overwhelming stress of managing the class, or maybe she just had too much on her mind, but even Sun Yanzhen—usually quick with a bawdy joke herself—actually blushed at this one.

She giggled and scolded, “Mr. Huang, you’d better not tell me jokes like that again. They don’t suit you.”

Huang Guolun was mortified.

He’d never listen to Huang Tao again—the kid swore this joke would make the pretty teacher laugh.

What a disaster!

How embarrassing!