Two months later, Director Sang finally left the hospital.
Although he had been discharged, his body was still very weak, He needed a wheelchair to get around and was advised not to overexert himself but to rest properly in bed.
Despite this, he insisted on preparing for a new film. Although he didn’t explain the reason, his family members, who were aware of his physical condition, uncommonly did not try to stop him because they knew deep down that Director Sang was… afraid of running out of time.
News of his hospitalization had been tightly controlled. Although he was famous, Director Sang was a behind-the-scenes figure, so the media hadn’t hounded him constantly.
In the film industry, disappearing for months or even years wasn’t uncommon, so Director Sang’s absence hadn’t alarmed the press. The new project began quietly, a collaboration with an old friend, simply titled “The Most Beautiful.”
After Ye Zhou received the script, he went through it several times, staying up for two consecutive nights without sleep, with the ashtray filling up with cigarette butts.
The lead role went to Luo Qin, a veteran actor close to Director Sang. In recent years, this actor had been semi-retired. Apart from occasionally making cameo appearances in movies of familiar friends, it had been three to four years since his last starring film was released.
It was said that Luo Qin also had some health issues. Starting out in martial arts films in his early years, he had worked diligently all these years. Although he was now covered in honors, he had accumulated quite a few old injuries.
Therefore, although Luo Qin’s fans were somewhat regretful about his semi-retirement, most of them agreed with his decision and remained very relaxed about his career.
When Ye Zhou heard that Luo Qin was cast as the male lead, he was slightly surprised, but the surprise quickly faded. After all, in the industry, who didn’t know that it was Director Sang who had discovered Luo Qin back in the day, and the two of them had a great personal relationship.
While it would be surprising for other directors to cast Luo Qin, it all made sense when the director was Director Sang.
The male lead’s casting caused almost no trouble, but there was a significant problem with the choice of the female lead. Even a renowned director like Director Sang encountered the same difficulties as Ye Zhou did when preparing for “Rewind.” Looking at the entire entertainment industry, from top actresses to rising stars and newcomers, there was no one who could satisfy Director Sang.
However, after reading the script, Ye Zhou could understand why it was so difficult to find someone to play the female lead. Finding an actress to portray such an iconic, legendary figure seemed nearly impossible.
Director Sang’s health condition was not optimistic, and they didn’t have much time to spend on casting actors like Ye Zhou did before. Therefore, after a period of unsuccessful auditions, Sang decided to give up on searching for the female lead.
At that time, Ye Zhou felt very puzzled. This film was unlike others. The female lead was not just a supporting character; she was the soul of the entire movie, appearing in every scene from beginning to end. If such an important role was casually handed to an actress who didn’t meet the standards, the impact could be unexpectedly severe because the character held such special significance.
To what extent was she special? The female lead in this movie was once a legendary superstar who had been extremely popular. Even though she had retired from the music industry decades ago, her whereabouts were rarely known. However, mentioning her name would still ring a bell with everyone, as she was a household name that few people were unfamiliar with.
She was a once-in-a-century legend, an eternal classic in countless hearts. Misrepresenting such an icon on screen could have severe consequences.
But Director Sang made the decision. Although Ye Zhou felt uneasy, he wasn’t overly anxious because he knew that this old man loved movies deeply. Every decision he made was carefully considered. Since he had decided to pause the casting process, it meant that he had thought of a better solution.
Indeed, Ye Zhou’s guess was correct. A week after the casting process was halted, Ye Zhou received a call from Director Sang.
“Are you suggesting that we use a body double and then directly use technology to replicate and synthesize her appearance?” Ye Zhou’s voice couldn’t hide his astonishment.
Although technology was highly advanced now, creating a lifelike fake still inevitably had flaws. This kind of technology had been used in movies before, but mostly in simple and short scenes. More complex sequences and actions were prone to reveal flaws, not to mention conveying nuanced performances.
The limitations of this technology meant that despite its continuous improvement, it was rarely used in the industry. Unless absolutely necessary, production teams preferred to hire real actors for filming. Actors could perform movements, expressions, even voice and form with far greater precision than this technology. Moreover, the massive investment required for this special effects technology made it significantly less cost-effective compared to hiring actors.
To put it bluntly, using this special effects technology was like burning money every minute. If one wanted to use it extensively, besides burning through production funds, it also meant potential troubles and flaws that were unknown.
Only when filming actually began on set would they discover what issues might arise. By then, the money would have been spent, and it would be too late to regret.
A movie entirely completed using this special effects technology had never been seen before even in today’s era. If they did it, they would undoubtedly be the first ones to try this unconventional approach.
The risk was… too great.
Ye Zhou remained silent for a long time, then gritted his teeth and spoke, “Director Sang, how about we continue searching? I could personally—”
“Xiao Ye.” Sang Huaining interrupted Ye Zhou before he could finish speaking. His voice remained gentle and kind, like an elder chatting casually with a younger person, as he softly said, “I understand your concerns.”
“I have considered everything you said. I have thought long and hard about it, and ultimately, I believe that no one can play Jingque, and no one can… truly bring her to life.”
Upon hearing Director Sang’s words, Ye Zhou fell silent. All the words of advice stuck in his throat because he realized, even though he didn’t want to admit it, that he truly couldn’t imagine anyone embodying even half of the brilliance of that diva.
A person like her was perhaps a once-in-a-century rarity.
Ye Zhou couldn’t persuade Director Sang. Instead, he was convinced by their conversation. Given Director Sang’s weakened state from his recent illness, Ye Zhou volunteered to handle communications with the crew and investors.
Initially, Director Sang disagreed. After all, as a veteran director for many years, he had seen and worked with hundreds, if not thousands, of investors. The relationship between directors and investors was not as good as outsiders might think; they often had conflicting interests. Directors often demanded high-quality films, which sometimes meant spending millions on a single special effect, all of which came from the investors’ money.
If the investors were knowledgeable, they wouldn’t interfere too much with the director. However, if the investors were ignorant and liked to meddle, it could become troublesome. Awards and honors in the film industry were for the directors and actors, but investors valued profits more than prestige. Their goal and purpose were to spend as little money as possible to maximize profits.
This was why art films often had limited budgets, even those directed by renowned filmmakers. Of course, some investors funded films not for profit but to promote certain individuals. While this may seem like a simple request, it was actually the most difficult to handle because once you accepted the funding, you had to bear whatever burdens they threw your way and treat them well.
Although Director Sang was widely acclaimed, he had a charitable nature. Most of his income went towards charity, and his personal life was very modest, unlike what one would expect from a director of numerous critically and commercially successful films.
The investors for this film were a major production company that had collaborated with Sang before. Even so, given its astronomical cost, they were unlikely to easily agree to Sang’s proposal.
The investors for this movie were a major production company that had collaborated with Director Sang on multiple occasions. However, despite their past collaborations, they were unlikely to easily agree to Director Sang’s request due to the exorbitant cost.
Director Sang naturally did not want Ye Zhou to be caught up in such a cumbersome and tedious situation. However, Ye Zhou did not give him the opportunity to refuse. In just a few words, as if afraid of his reaction, he abruptly ended the call, taking the responsibility upon himself.
The representative of the investors looked at the young man before him, his smile freezing in place upon hearing Ye Zhou’s words. He rubbed his ears in disbelief and asked, “Director Ye, what did you just say?”
Ye Zhou calmly reiterated what he had said before, his demeanor natural and composed, appearing as if he was discussing something mundane, without a hint of panic.
The investor’s representative stared at him for a few seconds, unable to contain his laughter, and said, “Do you know how much this special effects technology costs per minute? And the length of a typical movie? You better study these details thoroughly before coming to me with requests.”
“I am aware of all these details. I have prepared extensively before coming to you, and here is a plan I have outlined, including estimated costs and shooting durations. You can take a look at it,” Ye Zhou said, pushing the thick folder towards the investor’s representative.
However, the investor’s representative did not take the folder. He looked at Ye Zhou with a half-smile and asked, “Is this Director Sang’s idea, or is it your own?”
“I consider it a great privilege to have Director Sang’s approval, but it’s important to remain grounded. Especially for young people like us, being too eager for quick success will only lead to self-destruction.”
The subtle reprimand in his words was not lost on Ye Zhou. It was a way of scolding him for being too audacious to make such unreasonable demands.
Ye Zhou maintained his composure and continued, “This plan was unanimously agreed upon by all the crew members during the discussion after the auditions.”
“Or perhaps, you can find an actress who can perfectly portray Ms. Lin?” Ye Zhou countered.
This question truly stumped the person in charge. He struggled to find words. After all, if even Director Sang, a well-connected and renowned director, could not find a suitable actress, how could he, a representative sent by the investors, find the right candidate?
“In any case, this plan is definitely not feasible,” the person in charge asserted decisively.
“This is just a documentary, and we both know its potential profits are very limited. It’s even uncertain if it will break even. The reason our company agreed to invest is simply out of respect for our relationship with Mr. Sang.”
“We are willing to invest a maximum of seventy million in this film. This is already the absolute limit we can allocate for Mr. Sang’s movie,” he continued, his face filled with arrogance as he looked at Ye Zhou, almost as if he was bestowing a favor.
Ye Zhou repeated the figure, chewing on it, “Seventy million?”
The combination of this figure and the investor’s superior attitude made Ye Zhou find it somewhat amusing. He couldn’t help but let out a laugh without concealing it.
“Your company values its relationship with Director Sang at only seventy million?” he questioned.
“Do I need to remind you? For the ‘Peerless’ trilogy, your company generously invested a minimum of 276 million, ‘Mirror’s End’ received 345 million, and ‘Third District’ was funded with a whopping 739 million,” Ye Zhou stood up from his seat, approaching the investor’s representative with a strong sense of oppression in his voice.
“Over the years, Director Sang has earned your company tens of billions, if not hundreds of billions. He has even groomed two Best Actress winners and an award-winning actor for your company. Do you truly believe this relationship is only worth seventy million?” Ye Zhou’s words exposed the ugly truth hidden beneath the facade of hypocrisy, especially considering that this film was just a documentary and Director Sang, being of advanced age, was unlikely to continue making films in the future to generate profits for them.
The investor’s representative blushed at Ye Zhou’s words, struggling to respond, “Different movie genres have different costs. This is just a documentary, and offering seventy million in investment is already going above and beyond.”
After a moment of silence, the investor’s representative straightened his tie and remarked coldly, “If you don’t believe me, feel free to ask around. Besides us, which other investor would be willing to invest seventy million in a documentary?”
“I know you have directed two successful films, but you are still young, with a long road ahead of you. Why speak so harshly and ruin your own path?” The investor’s representative continued, “If you listen obediently and honestly finish this movie with Director Sang, we may have the possibility of cooperation in the future, but if you are as ignorant as you are today… hum.” The investor’s representative left the threat hanging in the air, unspoken but heavily implied.
Ye Zhou suddenly burst into laughter, casually sitting back in his chair with a smirk and raised eyebrows, “You said the price you offered is already quite high. If I can’t find an investment higher than seventy million, is that true?”
Thinking Ye Zhou was conceding, the investor’s representative smiled and nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose, “Of course.”
But before he could fully process the response, Ye Zhou countered, “And what if I do find a higher investment?”
The investor’s representative, thinking Ye Zhou was just being overconfident, sneered in a low voice, “If you can find it, our company will immediately withdraw its investment, and we will bear the penalty for breach of contract.”
Clapping his hands in a casual manner, Ye Zhou said, “Alright, then it’s settled.”
Since we’re down to the less than 10 chapters before KMCF is completed, please help me decide what series to work on next. You can check the poll posted on my kofi page. It is open for everyone, and will be open until July 3.
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