Ye Zhou was woken up early in the morning and was already in a bad mood.
Out of professional ethics, and because he had taken over this body, he was prepared to clean up the mess left behind by the original owner out of a mentality of compensation and gratitude. No matter how bad the original was, it gave him a chance to live a new life, for which Ye Zhou was still very grateful.
Having inherited the original’s memories, Ye Zhou already had some mental preparation about this crew. However, after the initial interactions, Ye Zhou realized the situation was far worse than he expected.
A good film requires more than just a good script, director, and cast. Behind the success of a movie, there must be a crew with a clear division of labor, tacit cooperation, and each with its own strengths.
Ye Zhou could accept a crew with all kinds of problems, but the one thing he absolutely could not accept was a divided crew, with members harboring ulterior motives and going through the motions. Some were even just watching the commotion.
A crew that did not work towards the same goal was like loose sand. Even if it was forced into the shape of a castle, it would instantly collapse with a gust of wind. Could such a crew produce anything worthwhile?
The answer was yes, they could produce something. But it would absolutely not be a good work. The fate of this crew in the original novel had made that very clear.
Before leaving the crew, Ye Zhou paused when he saw the chubby guy who had welcomed him earlier. “You’re Yu Xiaochuan, right?” Ye Zhou quite liked him and asked, “What are your plans for the future? How about coming with me?”
But clearly, even though the crew for ‘The Pursuit’ was quite unreliable, Ye Zhou, as the nominal director, was not much better.
“Ah, no, no,” the chubby guy smiled awkwardly and waved his hands in refusal.
He felt the rest of the crew was going overboard and sympathized with the good-looking young director, but even a lousy crew like this provided a stable income. If he really left with the director, who knew if the two of them would end up penniless.
Ye Zhou understood his concerns and did not force him. He simply took a business card out of his pocket and handed it to the chubby guy. “This is my personal number. Call me if you change your mind in the future.”
The little fat man couldn’t bear to refuse and quickly put Ye Zhou’s business card into his pocket.
After leaving the crew, Ye Zhou returned to the villa.
Due to Jiang Tingyuan’s dislike of having too many people around, apart from the daily housekeeping service in the mornings and the chef delivering meals three times a day, the villa was otherwise unoccupied.
On his way back, Ye Zhou stopped by the supermarket and grabbed some bread and cereal – simple snacks to fill his stomach. As soon as he got back to the villa, he went straight to his room with a bread roll between his teeth.
While taking big bites of the bread, he turned on his computer to organize the works he had obtained at the auction yesterday. Ye Zhou divided these works into three simple categories.
The first category contained works he personally liked and was optimistic about.
The second contained works he was not particularly interested in but knew from the novel’s plot would become big or small hits in the future.
The third category was rather special.
Without exception, these works were either works in which the protagonist shou starred in or works in which the protagonist shou has invested in, or works in which the protagonist shou cooperated with.
There was a total of thirteen such works. After sorting through them, Ye Zhou quickly finished the bread in three gulps and dusted off his hands.
He first set aside the ones he wasn’t interested in and had no plans to film. Next, he began selecting the ones he was personally interested in and knew would become wildly popular based on the novel’s plot.
His screening method was also very simple. The most effective way to understand a work was to read through it once or multiple times personally. When one’s attention was invested, time tended to slip by unnoticed.
Ye Zhou put down his pen and rubbed his slightly sore eyes. His gaze inadvertently swept past the time on the wall, and he was a little surprised to find it was already evening.
Closing the notebook in front of him, Ye Zhou got up to do some stretching exercises to loosen his limbs that were stiff from sitting too long. Although time had passed quickly, the length of time was barely enough for him to get through the general plot of five of these works. But the afternoon’s efforts were still meaningful.
Ye Zhou had made initial selections of two works.
One was called ‘A Farce’, a very interesting dark comedy. The plot was absurd yet humorous, and the humor contained traces of sadness. Although there were flaws, its brilliance outshone its defects. With some minor tweaking by a reliable screenwriter, it would be good to go. Most importantly, this work had a small production budget – Ye Zhou estimated twenty million would get it done, which was very suitable for him to practice.
The other one was called ‘The Ark’, a science fiction novel written three years ago by renowned domestic science fiction author Fang Wenyun. Ark had very high popularity during its serialization and maintained impressive sales figures even after its publishing rights were signed when physical book sales were declining.
A famous work by a famous author should have had no issues selling its adaptation rights at a high price, but the downside was that it was science fiction. Investors in the domestic film market have never favored science fiction works for a couple of very simple reasons – high audience expectations, large production costs, and low returns.
To put it simply…not only does it not make money, but it may also even cost tens of billions casually, which is considered a thankless thing.
Although China was not short of successful science fiction films, they were pitifully few compared to the flopped science fiction films and the depressed state of the science fiction market. Over time, it evolved into the current situation.
Despite the work’s high popularity, the adaptation rights just could not sell for a good price. For example, ‘The Ark’s initial listed price was 10 million, but with no one interested, it kept dropping until it reached 6 million and still found no buyer. The licensing department finally ran out of options and reluctantly brought it to the auction, hoping to try their luck. Ye Zhou successfully won it at 4.5 million.
After the auction ended and the contract was signed, the licensing editor repeatedly thanked Ye Zhou.
To be honest… Ye Zhou was overjoyed.
Others may not know, but Ye Zhou, as a transmigrator aware of the novel’s plot, clearly knew he had picked up a tremendous bargain.
According to the plot, ‘The Ark’ was supposed to go unsold at the auction. After many twists and turns some years later, it would catch the eye of the main character, Cheng Ran, who would persuade Jiang Yu – who had taken over the Jiang family by then – to buy it.
Acting in the typical manner of a domineering president trying to impress his beauty, Jiang Yu, who had just taken over Jiang family and was very proud, magnanimously invested 300 million into Cheng Ran’s film. But unexpectedly, the film would go on to take in 4.6 billion at the box office, earning huge profits for both Jiang Yu and Cheng Ran.
This was supposed to be a golden finger written by the author for the protagonist couple. Yet now, it had fallen into Ye Zhou’s hands instead.
How could Ye Zhou not be overjoyed? He was absolutely elated!
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