The conference room at Huiyuan headquarters was filled with a grim atmosphere. Everyone involved in Immortal Path, including Director Ke, sat stiffly in their chairs.
A report was slammed onto the table with a loud smack. Huiyuan’s boss, a man in his fifties with a face full of jowls, looked even more ferocious than usual.
“What the hell happened? An investment of three hundred million, and in less than three days, it’s been hacked to pieces by a film that cost under seventy million! We spent more than half a year building momentum and scaring off so many competitors, yet by the third day, we can’t even hold on to the box-office crown?”
“What is the publicity department doing? With a renowned director, a massive budget, and an all-star cast, even if you only attracted the actors’ fan bases, it shouldn’t have ended up this ugly. You’ve let us lose to a novice producer and the team behind a lousy film. What am I supposed to tell the shareholders and investors?”
When everyone remained silent, President Chen grew even more furious. “Speak up! Have you all lost your tongues?”
The head of publicity forced himself to speak. “President Chen, there’s nothing wrong with the marketing plan since the film’s release. We anticipated the reactions of the first batch of viewers and made sufficient preparations. We also mapped out the likely chain of reactions and prepared a series of procedures for drawing in more moviegoers, including the angles we would use to attract them.”
In other words, they were professionals. They wouldn’t claim to be able to predict the box-office performance of every film, but identifying a movie’s problems and managing the risks arising from them was precisely what they did.
Immortal Path had plenty of shortcomings, but as President Chen had said, it had been made to cash in on fan support. The all-star cast had been assembled specifically to keep expanding the film’s core audience.
President Chen sneered. “Nothing wrong? If there’s nothing wrong, then how did things turn out like this? The online narrative slipped out of control on the very first day, and you still have the nerve to tell me everything is going according to plan?”
“What kind of useless idiots have I been feeding?”
The head of publicity said, “President Chen, it really isn’t that we’re incapable of adapting. It’s just that The Missing Bride barged into the picture and completely disrupted the balance of this holiday period.”
“Without them, our cast alone would have made us the audience’s first choice. But their moves were too cunning.”
“During the publicity period, they refused to reveal anything about the film’s quality, and even their trailer was edited in a completely unremarkable way. They deliberately emphasized that the producer came from a girl group and that her partner was known for making terrible movies, lowering the audience’s expectations to rock bottom.”
“But one Xie Chen was enough to win them mainstream attention. Who can compare with Xie Chen’s box-office appeal and the loyalty of his fans built up over all these years? Even if the movie were a pile of garbage, plenty of people would still go in just to see for themselves.”
“The Missing Bride knew it wouldn’t get much in the way of screenings, so its early publicity showed no particular ambition. Naturally, it didn’t arouse our vigilance.”
“Who would have thought they were actually coming at us with such force, intending to tear a chunk of flesh from us?”
They had already seen the film. To call it a quality production would have been an overstatement.
It was just that Immortal Path gave viewers expectations of nine out of ten, while The Missing Bride’s expectations were practically zero. Even if the two films were of equal quality, the latter would naturally leave audiences more satisfied.
Not to mention that The Missing Bride did have its merits.
President Chen’s jowls trembled with anger. “If not for Xie Chen, things wouldn’t have gotten this bad.”
That was a fact. Without Xie Chen’s cameo, The Missing Bride would have secured even fewer screenings. It wouldn’t have attracted the considerable number of viewers who bought tickets on its first day.
Even if the film had exceeded expectations in quality, feedback from those scattered early viewers would have struggled to trigger such a rapid word-of-mouth explosion.
And Xie Chen had even stripped down and made a full-frontal appearance in it. Before noon that day, the news had shot straight to the top of the trending charts. The Immortal Path production had spent a fortune buying several hot topics, yet the other film had needed only that single story to seize most of the public’s attention.
By the afternoon, screening rooms for The Missing Bride across the country were packed. How could the discussion and feedback generated by that explosive surge in attendance be suppressed?
It could be said that without Xie Chen, even if The Missing Bride’s performance in the later stages had improved after its reputation reversed, it would still have taken time.
Before that happened, Immortal Path would already have harvested most of the box-office potential of the May Day holiday. The other film would have been left with little more than scraps.
Instead, just as the two sides had begun dividing the cake, the other party had flipped their entire bowl over and snatched everything away.
President Chen glared at Director Ke. “Xie Chen rejected our invitation just to promote this film?”
“What’s the background of that producer? The two of them trended after they went to the gambling capital, then brushed it off by claiming they were there to shoot a film. Hah! Anyone in the know understands that was just a cover story.”
“Is Xie Chen really using his own reputation and career to promote his woman?”
Director Ke’s expression was equally unpleasant. “That shouldn’t be the case. When I invited him, that film hadn’t even been approved yet.”
“Still, this producer does have some background. I heard she’s the Pei Foods heiress. If she was willing to spend enough money, it wouldn’t be surprising for her to hire Xie Chen.”
The hostility on President Chen’s face eased slightly. As someone from the same circle of capital, he found it relatively reasonable that the Pei Foods heiress could pull off something like that.
“Miss Pei probably found herself some expert adviser,” President Chen said with a cold laugh. “She spent two years after debuting as a nobody. But ever since she took down Cui Ying, her style of doing things has changed completely.”
“If she’d possessed that kind of nerve and skill when she debuted, she would have become a top-tier actress long ago. Someone capable must have joined her team.”
“Now she’s taking the route of a beautiful genius producer and trying to make her name in the film industry. Her ambitions certainly aren’t small.”
“Look into who’s backing her and see if we can make contact. But the two films have already reached the point where all pretenses are gone. There’s no need to hold back anymore.”
Director Ke said, “Miss Pei can wait. Xie Chen is the blade that tore this opening through.”
“You said he went to the gambling capital for this, but I don’t think so.”
“I was already suspicious before. Later, I asked some colleagues overseas and found out that it was an audition for Cosmic Alliance. The location was the gambling capital.”
“What?”
Everyone drew a sharp breath.
Cosmic Alliance was one of the biggest intellectual properties in history. Whenever a film in the series was released, its box office was guaranteed to rank among the global top five of the year.
But because its confidentiality measures were so strict, it was usually difficult to learn anything about the production’s progress. Even the location of this audition was known only to actors who had passed the preliminary screening and been granted an audition.
“Then the cast that was announced earlier—”
“Right. There’s no Xie Chen.”
The people around the table showed expressions of schadenfreude to varying degrees.
“Who would’ve thought that even Best Actor Xie would be so humble as to compete for a supporting role, only to be rejected in the end?”
The remark was naturally rather arrogant. Any new supporting character in that franchise would be worth competing for to male actors around the world.
Moreover, the film industry in Europe and the United States is far more developed, with a comparatively healthier structure. The vast majority of actors possess an exceptionally high level of professionalism.
Even A-list actors and actresses who have won Best Actor or Best Actress awards will make every effort to pursue a role they want. By comparison, some of the domestic traffic stars with absolutely no acting ability have much bigger egos.
That did not stop them from taking delight in Xie Chen losing the role, however.
Someone from the marketing department said, “Now that Xie Chen has been put in an awkward position, we don’t need to hold back in our counterattack.”
After discussing the areas from which they could break through, they drew up a series of plans. The massive machinery of a major company began to move at high speed.
The next day, film reviews online began to voice opinions completely different from those at the beginning.
【Went to see The Missing Bride because of all the buzz. Am I the only one who didn’t GET the jokes? That’s it? Seriously?】
【You’re not the only one. I’m also starting to wonder if this generation of audiences has never seen a comedy before. I kept a completely blank expression throughout.】
【Blank expression throughout +1】
【It wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t funny, but what the hell is this movie? How did it even pass censorship?】
【It’s nothing but toilet humor from beginning to end. The jokes are vulgar and sleazy. If it were three men, that would be one thing, but it’s a chick flick starring three women. This is utterly corrupting social values and having a terrible influence.】
【I won’t even get into the logic or values. There’s nothing there to discuss in the first place. But seeing so many people blindly praising it as the light of Chinese comedy? As a comedy fan, I’m the first to object.】
【You’re clearly an amateur. The movie was carried by Best Actor Xie showing off his body in the first place. What exactly did you expect in terms of substance?】
【On the very first day of release, people were already dragging the neighboring movie Immortal Path into it. Please. I watched both. I sat there expressionless throughout The Missing Bride. At least Immortal Path had handsome men, beautiful women, and convincing chemistry between the leads. The grand scale and profound themes were impressive too. Director Ke’s skill is still formidable—practically every frame could be screenshotted and used as a poster.】
【It’s a matter of expectations, I guess. If you expect a pile of crap and open the box to find a bowl of plain white rice, it’s a pleasant surprise. But if you expect a seafood feast and open it to find ordinary fish, those two things can’t be compared. I’m just saying that no matter how strong the psychological contrast is, the quality of the movie itself is an objective fact. If you insist on claiming that plain white rice tastes better than a lavish feast, then there’s no point.】
【I’m different. I’d seen so many people online praising The Missing Bride that I went in to take a look. Same feeling as the person above: That’s it?】
【Exactly. Immortal Path, on the other hand, had wildly divided reviews, so I didn’t expect much. It actually turned out to be a pleasant surprise.】
【What is there to like about The Missing Bride, anyway? It’s only getting away with this because China has no rating system. No one under fourteen should be allowed into this movie, okay?】
【I saw quite a few young students going into the theater, and it honestly made me uncomfortable.】
【Teachers and parents, please think of your children and don’t take them to see The Missing Bride. Families looking for a comedy they can enjoy together should also be cautious, because the jokes and situations will leave you and your parents or children feeling awkward.】
The Missing Bride was never a film with much depth or substance to begin with. On the contrary, some of these negative reviews had, to a certain extent, hit the nail on the head.
As Pei Liang’s first attempt at testing the waters, The Missing Bride was, at its core, nothing more than a nutritionally empty fast-food popcorn movie—vulgar, lacking in substance, and with jokes that had no deeper meaning.
But Pei Liang knew her own limitations. She was an outsider. No matter how sharp her eye might be, filmmaking was an incredibly complicated craft, and when making one’s first attempt, the greatest taboo was trying to have everything at once.
Director Liu had worked as a cinematographer on countless excellent films, yet when he set out on his own, his ambition had been too great and he had still ended up crashing spectacularly. Pei Liang came from no professional background at all. If she could grasp even one thing firmly, that would already be impressive.
So she had only one goal: to make money. As long as the movie turned a profit, it would count as a success for her as a producer.
A producer was different from a director or screenwriter. A producer’s job was to ensure that the film’s investment generated value—whether through box-office performance, awards, or positive word of mouth.
The risks online had indeed influenced some people’s choice of whether to see the movie.
But since Pei Liang had dared to snatch food from the tiger’s mouth, she naturally was not afraid of being bitten in return.
Organizing paid online trolls and manipulating public opinion to suppress Immortal Path’s fierce momentum was clearly unrealistic. Pei Liang had neither a powerful marketing team nor connections within the industry. In fact, because of her previous clash with Cui Ying, she had offended quite a few people in the business.
But the real wave of moviegoing during the May Day holiday would last only a few days. Time was money.
If Pei Liang couldn’t solve the problem, she would solve the person who had created it.
Perhaps she was usually too upright in the way she handled matters, leading many people to believe that Pei Liang had high moral standards and disdained underhanded schemes.
In reality, the opposite was true. Her moral boundaries depended on who she was dealing with. If her opponent was a dark and petty villain, she would show them what it meant to take the villain’s path and leave the villain with nowhere to go.
Thus, just as Immortal Path was about to see an increase in momentum on its fourth day, a hot search suddenly appeared across all major platforms early that morning.
【Immortal Path’s female lead on a romantic date with an outsider boyfriend; suspected to be married with children.】
Clicking on it brought up photos of the female lead passionately kissing a potbellied, greasy-looking man at least thirty years older than her; the two of them making silly faces for selfies; and the man, his face even shinier with oil, grinning as he held a baby while the woman posed beside him, apparently fresh from giving birth.
Because the movie had recently become a major hit—and because Zhu Qian was already a highly popular young actress—she was naturally attracting the most attention at the moment.
Quite a few people opening their phones first thing in the morning while sitting on the toilet were jolted wide awake by the news.
The top comment read: 【So, uh… I bought a ticket to Immortal Path solely for the leads’ faces. Anyone want it at a discount?】
【Same here. The two o’clock showing this afternoon at XX Plaza. Half price, and I’ll throw in a popcorn voucher. Anyone interested?】
【Who the hell would want it? Immortal Path turned out like this, and anyone still choosing to watch it is obviously there for the handsome man, beautiful woman, and their chemistry. After seeing these photos, I’m afraid I’ll automatically replace the male lead’s face with this pig’s while I’m sitting in the theater.】
【As a certified face fanatic, I seriously can’t take this. I could tolerate a terrible plot and lousy special effects—I was there to admire the good-looking cast anyway. Damn it, I nearly threw up my leftovers. When the male and female leads kiss, I’m going to be terrified that I’ll picture that other photo of them making out.】
【Isn’t this going a bit far? In this day and age, are you still trying to stop an actress from getting married and having children?】
【Bold of you not to recognize President Chen of Huiyuan. For Consort Zhu to be favored by him and bear his imperial heir is already the greatest honor imaginable, and she actually dares dream of becoming his official wife?】
【So it’s true that Zhu Qian is President Chen’s fourth concubine? I thought the antis were making that up.】
【No wonder Zhu Qian hadn’t produced any work for over a year, then suddenly landed the female lead in a three-hundred-million-yuan production. Before this, people had been mocking her for fading into obscurity. Once she was announced as the female lead of Immortal Path, her fans strutted around triumphantly, gloating everywhere. Turns out she’d been rewarded for giving birth to a son.】
【So that’s why President Chen was willing to spend so much money promoting her so aggressively. Never mind the production costs—the Xian Tu team alone must have cost him countless favors. Turns out he had a child in his old age.】
【Congratulations, President Chen! Congratulations!】
【Damn, I’m going to throw up. The two of them sitting together look exactly like a father and daughter, and they’re even pouting for selfies. President Chen, are you all right?】
【When Zhu Qian was photographed looking heavier, she used depression and medication as an excuse to wash it away. Damn it, a mistress who had a bastard child shouldn’t exploit depression for publicity. People suffering from depression already have it hard enough.】
【I’ve returned my ticket anyway. The rest of you can keep watching if you want, but there’s no way I can forget that photo in just a few days.】
Zhu Qian had always been a highly newsworthy young actress. Now that her movie was in theaters, even the slightest disturbance spread rapidly.
What was more, this was no minor incident. It was a public-relations crisis that directly threatened her entire career.
The Xian Tu team had only just managed to reverse the online narrative yesterday. Today, they had been preparing to release a major revelation and completely crush The Missing Bride.
Yet before their planned publicity campaign could even begin, their own backyard had exploded.
At first, they had not even suspected Pei Liang. In their eyes, Pei Liang had neither the resources nor the awareness to pull off something like this. She had just suffered a blow, yet had immediately thrown out a devastating trump card.
How could the other side possibly have the reach to dig up explosive evidence overnight, organize a public-relations strategy in an instant, and release it at such a perfectly vicious moment?
Unless they had somehow known in advance and predicted what would happen during the movie’s theatrical run.
And that was exactly what had happened. Although the original novel had only glossed over this movie, it had focused on what happened after the film bombed at the box office: desperate to shift the blame and divert the industry’s attention that year, the production team had eagerly kicked Xie Chen while he was down when the director and producer of his movie, Universe Alliance, were exposed for sexually harassing actresses.
That had been the primary cause of Xie Chen’s descent into a slump and his subsequent change in personality.
But simply knowing that the movie would flop had already been enough for Pei Liang to make a bold plan.
If her film, The Missing Bride, had been released during a season crowded with blockbuster competition, it would probably still have made a small profit. But an opportunity as rare as this one was unique.
As long as she took down Xian Tu, The Missing Bride would have no rivals during that release window. She could swallow up all the audience-choice dividends generated by Xian Tu’s own publicity campaign.
That was why Pei Liang had gathered all sorts of trump cards from the very beginning. A production team like Xian Tu’s—even one willing to frame someone who had never appeared in the movie in order to cover up its own shoddy work—would certainly retaliate once The Missing Bride snatched food from its jaws.
Although Pei Liang had few connections in the entertainment industry, the upper-class circles of the province were not that large. Secrets hidden from the general public were merely unspoken bits of gossip among people of the same social class.
Zhu Qian might be a hugely popular star in public, but she had never been able to squeeze onto the card tables of genuine wealthy wives. With only a little maneuvering, those women had practically volunteered to display the evidence of her affair and child with President Chen as though they were showing off.
“Damn it, what the hell is going on?”
In the president’s office at Huiyuan, President Chen’s eyes were red with fury.
Zhu Qian sat on the office sofa, weeping anxiously. “What are we going to do? Hurry up and have someone issue a clarification.”
The marketing department, however, said, “A blind clarification would be the most unwise move right now.”
“Before, the public had no evidence, so we could steer the discussion and dismiss it as rumors spread by haters. But now President Chen and the child have both appeared in the photos. There’s a clear direction, and the whole internet is watching. Denying everything outright will only provoke the public’s rebellious streak. It would be very easy for people to dig up even more evidence.”
“Besides, we don’t know whether the person who released this material is holding something even more devastating.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?” Zhu Qian screamed. “Now that everyone knows I’ve had a child, who’s going to cast me as a female lead again?”
It was a fair point. Zhu Qian had no acting ability to speak of. She had a beautiful face, and her fans watched her dramas for her looks.
But the entertainment industry was brutally realistic. There were countless young and beautiful actresses eager to make a name for themselves. Zhu Qian was only one of several rising stars, and her fanbase was already mostly underage. On top of that, the photos were far too shocking. In them, Zhu Qian looked bloated as she held a child, and there was even a picture of her passionately kissing a greasy, heavily jowled old man. Countless people’s idealized image of her had shattered.
To put it bluntly, people watched idol dramas for the attractive male and female leads. Who wanted to see a married woman with a child—one who had been kissing and flaunting her love for an oily old man—play a youthful teenage girl?
At that moment, countless moviegoers were protesting and demanding refunds through major theaters and ticketing platforms. Fans of the original Xian Tu novel had swarmed Zhu Qian’s social-media accounts and Huiyuan’s official account.
They demanded an explanation. The work they cherished from the bottom of their hearts had actually become a bargaining chip for a shameless, greasy pig to curry favor with his mistress.
Anyone would find that unbearable.
Even the original author had publicly stated that they wanted to completely disassociate themselves from the film.
President Chen was already seething, and Zhu Qian was still screaming in his office. He slapped her across the face.
“Who the hell leaked those photos?”
“I’ve never bothered with that kind of thing. I don’t even have copies of the photos. It couldn’t possibly have been me! You useless, good-for-nothing idiot—get out and find out who did it. Now!”
Zhu Qian did not dare say another word. She quickly left the office.
President Chen said irritably, “Release the dirt on The Missing Bride and draw attention away from this.”
The people in the marketing department stiffened.
“President Chen, we released it as soon as the trending searches appeared. We spent a fortune trying to suppress the story and bought their production team’s scandals spots in the top three searches. But…”
The production team of The Missing Bride was far from flawless, especially when it came to its female lead.
Xia Yu was notorious for being a cruel, ungrateful, unfilial daughter who had abandoned her poor family to cling to a wealthy man. They had begun stirring up public sentiment around that point yesterday.
Today, they had gone even further, releasing interview statements from Xia Yu’s parents, younger brother, and ex-husband. They wanted to attack the female lead’s morality and character, morally blackmailing the public and urging everyone not to watch The Missing Bride.
But, objectively speaking, what kind of star was Xia Yu? She had been a one-hit wonder who faded into obscurity before she even had the chance to rise to fame—a complete nobody.
And what kind of star was Zhu Qian? She was one of the most prominent young actresses of recent years, a major trending figure whose every move normally made the hot searches.
Now that she had been exposed as someone’s kept woman who had already given birth, and with her movie currently in theaters, who would still have the attention to care about any other news?
The story was suppressed, only to rise again; suppressed, only to rise again. The explosive revelation had truly excited the gossip-hungry public, and no amount of money could push it down.
What was more, after a scandal like this, the other stars in the movie were all scrambling to distance themselves. Hardly any of them dared to face the fans’ questions directly, let alone call on people to support the film.
It was a textbook case of cutting off the enemy’s retreat and striking straight at their heart.
Not only had they exposed the scandal, they had deliberately chosen the most nauseating photos to release. During the movie’s theatrical run, every time people saw Zhu Qian, they would be reminded of those shocking images.
The film’s reputation had already been poor. Even those who had gone to see it for the leads’ looks or to enjoy the romantic pairing were driven away.
President Chen’s expression twisted viciously.
“Then release Xie Chen’s scandals. With his influence, he should at least be able to suppress Zhu Qian’s story, right?”
A member of the marketing department frowned. “President Chen, we started laying the groundwork to imply that the movie was using Xie Chen’s sex appeal a long time ago, but the other side hasn’t responded.”
“Our original plan was to rely on the certainty that Xie Chen’s company wouldn’t dare reveal the real reason he went to Vegas, leaving him unable to clarify the matter and forced to suffer in silence.”
“But if we really release the news that he failed the audition and was rejected by [The Cosmic Alliance], it’ll do more harm than good.”
“Xie Chen’s company isn’t a pushover. Besides, this can’t even be considered dirt—it’s just an ordinary competition for a role. They can easily claim he wasn’t a good fit. [The Cosmic Alliance] has been increasingly eager to cater to the domestic market, so they’ll definitely offer some polite words as well. And with Xie Chen’s huge fan base—”
“Why are you worrying about all that? I’m telling you to release it now.” President Chen was breathing heavily. “Put it out there, then steer the narrative and let Xie Chen draw the public’s attention.”
“After that, get the hot search taken down and find a way to handle the public relations. In any case, the movie cannot be allowed to run into trouble.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than his secretary opened the door. “President Chen, several board members are waiting for you in the conference room.”
President Chen’s expression darkened. He had been overjoyed at the birth of his beloved son and had invested so much money, manpower, and resources in promoting Zhu Qian. But the board could no longer tolerate him using company resources to support his mistress—especially when it had ultimately resulted in losses.
Yes, the losses from Immortal Path were already beyond recovery.
The movie Immortal Path had cost more than three hundred million yuan to produce, not counting the astronomical sum spent on marketing and promotion.
After deducting the cinema and theater-chain splits, taxes, the film-industry special fund, and China Film’s agency fees, the investment and distribution companies could only take 43 percent of the gross.
With the promotional and operational costs added in, Immortal Path had conservatively cost five hundred million yuan. That meant it needed to gross at least 1.2 billion just to break even—and that was only the most simplistic calculation.
In reality, maintaining a non-loss position would require considerably more. The usual industry rule of thumb was to multiply the investment by three, meaning the film needed to earn at least 1.5 billion.
In the original story, Immortal Path had barely grossed two billion yuan. In terms of return on investment, the entire production crew had spent six months making practically nothing.
This time, it had already been slashed to pieces by The Missing Bride during its first three days in theaters, causing its screening share to shrink drastically. By now, its cumulative box office had yet to reach five hundred million.
This wasn’t merely a loss. It was a catastrophic loss.
Cinemas weren’t willing to sit back and watch the crowds pouring in during the Golden Week holiday slip away, either. Thus, after Zhu Qian’s scandal broke that morning and directly affected people’s viewing choices—with countless moviegoers demanding refunds—the major theater chains held an emergency meeting and decided to cut Immortal Path’s screening share even further.
That was the fatal blow to Immortal Path. Its screening share had barely exceeded ten percent, and the scandal surrounding its female lead had severely affected the audience’s viewing experience. With only a few days left of Golden Week, the outcome could no longer be changed no matter how hard they worked online.
Moreover, since none of the other movies in the May Day holiday lineup, apart from The Missing Bride, showed any real blockbuster potential and had all received lackluster responses, the cinemas naturally piled all their screenings onto The Missing Bride.
The Immortal Path team was too busy dealing with its own crisis to manage the organized trolls they had hired, while genuine audience reactions became the dominant voice.
As the movie’s influence grew and people’s expectations rose, there were naturally more voices expressing disappointment.
But the fact that the film could genuinely make people laugh out loud was enough to convince many of them to go to the theater.
By the end of the Golden Week holiday, The Missing Bride’s cumulative box office had surpassed two billion yuan. Its decline remained healthy, and there was little doubt that its total gross would reach three billion.
Quite a few films that had given up on the Golden Week holiday in order to avoid Immortal Path were now sick with regret. One or two had tried to squeeze into the schedule later, but because their early publicity had been inadequate, they had secured less than two days of screening time and hadn’t even managed to drink their fill of the leftovers.
As a result, the performance of the notorious “bad-movie trio”—Pei Liang, Director Liu, and Screenwriter Feng—shone all the more brilliantly this time.
Strictly speaking, the Director Liu–Screenwriter Feng pairing was a fixed one. The only variable had been Pei Liang. Before the movie’s release, countless people had mocked her as an outsider from a girl group who was treating filmmaking as a lark. Now, all that remained was the deafening sound of those people slapping themselves in the face.
Many film critics naturally looked down on a movie filled with crude jokes. Even after the movie achieved such impressive results, they bluntly declared that it was unworthy of its success.
The audience, however, had a different view: a movie that could make them feel their nearly two hours in the theater had been worthwhile was a qualified movie.
The two camps fought fiercely, but that did not stop Pei Liang—the producer who had burst onto the scene out of nowhere—from entering the sights of major investors.
Capital was nothing if not practical. Anyone who could make money could temporarily make even old enemies lay down their weapons. After The Missing Bride became a massive hit, countless investors and scripts were brought before Pei Liang.
One comedy fan left a message on the account where she had already changed her identity verification:
[President Pei, what are you planning to make next? The Missing Bride 2? After seeing the post-credits scene, I’m really looking forward to your next movie starring you and Xie Chen.]
[What are you talking about? There’s a post-credits scene?]
[There is! After the credits, the three sisters board a plane home. The person sitting next to the eldest sister is Xie Chen.]
[Holy crap, I couldn’t wait and missed it. No way, I have to watch it again. Wherever Xie Chen is, I’ll be there.]
[Same. Round two, here I come.]
At that point, plenty of jealous people began stirring up trouble, claiming that Pei Liang was being shamelessly opportunistic. But no matter how much they cursed her, they couldn’t stop countless people from buying tickets again.
Someone directly asked Pei Liang:
[Is this all you can do—make crude toilet humor? Can’t you make something else for a change?]
By coincidence, Pei Liang happened to notice the comment and reposted it with a response.
[Of course I can. The horror movie Haunted Mansion is currently in pre-production. See you during the National Day holiday. Please look forward to it.]
Given the recent popularity of The Missing Bride, Pei Liang, as both its star and producer, had naturally transformed overnight. She had gone from a second-tier girl-group member into a genius female producer—a formidable woman who had single-handedly changed the ecosystem of the entertainment industry.
There was no shortage of publicity value. Not long after she announced that she was preparing a new film, the topic climbed into the upper ranks of the hot searches.
[A horror movie? Is she trying to get herself killed?]
[Domestic horror movies are always terrible. Is this one actually watchable?]
[What can you do? Ghosts aren’t allowed to exist after the founding of the country. In the end, every haunting turns out to be a case of dissociative identity disorder.]
[So most success really is just a fluke.]
[Pei Liang isn’t getting carried away already, is she? Does she not understand her own abilities? If The Missing Bride hadn’t benefited from such a gimmicky premise, it might not even have been that good.]
[Her ambitions are too big for her abilities.]
[Looks like ever since this woman took down Cui Ying last time, she’s become rather pleased with the title of “the person who changed such-and-such.” Yes, she did make a comedy with an entirely female cast that was genuinely funny, but she doesn’t really think she can change the world, does she?]
The comments were almost unanimously negative. Put simply, people thought she was reaching too far. The hole ahead was even deeper, and it was obvious she was about to pull a muscle trying to cross it.
Quite a few investors who had initially been enthusiastic cooled toward Pei Liang after failing to persuade her to make The Missing Bride 2 and watching her insist on making that horror movie instead.
But Pei Liang didn’t care in the slightest. The investment for The Haunted Mansion was far lower than that of Runaway Bride—far, far lower.
The funds in her hands were more than sufficient. The only problem was finding a lead actor.
She pulled out her phone. Ever since Xie Chen had returned from Vegas, the two of them had barely been in touch.
Pei Liang had been so busy she barely had time to catch her breath. As for Xie Chen, he had reportedly had a major falling-out with his agency. Apart from accepting an invitation from a director who had once recognized his talent and taking one of the two male leads in an arthouse film, he had remained completely out of the limelight these past few months.
“Are you there?” Pei Liang sent him a message.
“Not here!” came the instant reply.
Pei Liang smiled, completely unfazed by the brush-off.
“Where do you live?”
Xie Chen stared hard at the message, baffled by what the woman meant.
When they had parted ways in Vegas, he had given her his most private contact information and repeatedly hinted that she could get in touch with him.
He had thought he’d made his intentions perfectly clear. If she really was interested in him, she should have been the one to reach out.
Yet after they parted, the woman had acted as though she had forgotten he existed. Not only had she failed to contact him even once, but after returning to the country, she had handled all negotiations over his fee directly through his agency, since the film’s later publicity campaign was expected to focus heavily on him.
She hadn’t contacted him privately even once to cultivate their relationship. Did she really see him as some aloof, unapproachable person who didn’t understand human feelings?
Xie Chen had wanted to confront her about it several times, but if she was determined to keep their relationship at arm’s length, his pride wouldn’t allow him to go chasing after her.
For months, he had been tormented by the same doubts. Had she merely flirted with him on a whim that day because he happened to be standing in front of her and had a pretty face?
Had her heart never paused for him—not even once? Had she never intended to have anything to do with him at all?
On top of that, he had been stewing over his conflict with the agency. After finishing the film, Xie Chen went straight home and shut himself away.
He had been staring blankly at the contacts on his phone when Pei Liang’s message suddenly arrived.
And the first thing she asked was where he lived?
Xie Chen gave a cold laugh. What did she take him for? Some cheap man who could be summoned at will after months without a word?
His index finger flew across the screen, instantly composing a long string of replies:
“What’s it to you? Can a man just casually give out his address?”
“What exactly are you getting at? Do you think I’m the kind of cheap guy who hands over his address the moment a woman asks?”
“And who are you, anyway? Do we even know each other? You just come right out and ask for my address? That’s something only people in a close relationship ask. Are we really that close? Have you misunderstood what kind of relationship we have?”
The moment he sent the last message, Xie Chen began to regret it.
Had he been too harsh? Would a girl feel humiliated hearing something like that, and lose the courage to say or do whatever she had originally wanted?
His face twisted with indecision. But he had always been proud, and once words were spoken, there was no way he could sneakily take them back.
His mind raced, and in an instant he came up with a brilliant solution.
He quickly sent another reply:
“Let me make this clear: you can forget about it. I absolutely will not tell you my address.”
“What if you give it to someone else? I take my privacy very seriously.”
“You know, I bought my place at XX Yipin precisely because the security here is so comprehensive—”
“…Tsk, forget it. You’ve already seen it, so I won’t unsend it. But you’re not allowed to tell anyone.”
“As it happens, I’m out of vegetables at home and can’t be bothered to go out. Consider it compensation for asking about my residence—bring me some groceries.”
Pei Liang hadn’t even replied when he sent her a whole barrage of messages. She found them amusing.
He still had plenty of energy, so apparently The Space Alliance’s rejection hadn’t affected him too badly.
Then again, given Xie Chen’s star power and the freedom granted by his contract, there was no way his agency could truly control him.
In the original story, Xie Chen was abandoned by his agency because he had become embroiled in controversy, and his position in the eyes of the powers above him had grown sensitive.
If he had been willing to lower himself at that point—temporarily setting aside films to appear on variety shows or accept more endorsements and the like, bringing the company some profit—it absolutely would not have given up on him.
But during that period, Xie Chen’s mental state had completely deteriorated. He refused to turn himself into a commercial product while he was at his lowest, because doing so would make him feel ashamed of himself. The company, naturally, was unwilling to waste resources on him indefinitely.
Still, when it came to pretty boys, Pei Liang knew she couldn’t afford to keep one. But working with one was another matter.
And having a little fun with him while they collaborated could serve as an appetizer, building up her anticipation before the main feast.
When Xie Chen saw that she still hadn’t replied, he began to panic a little, assuming he had genuinely offended her.
He was just about to send something else when Pei Liang’s reply appeared:
“Sure. Send me your exact address, and I’ll bring you some groceries. What do you like to eat? I’m actually pretty good at cooking. I’ll let you try my food later.”
The corners of Xie Chen’s mouth lifted uncontrollably, and his earlier irritation vanished without a trace.
He suddenly wondered if he had been too petty.
Of course. She was the executive producer of a film, and it was her first time working with newcomers. There were plenty of things she had to learn as she went, and the investment was substantial. It was easy to imagine how much pressure she was under.
Maybe she hadn’t failed to contact him because she wasn’t interested. Maybe she simply hadn’t had the time.
At a moment like this, he should have been the one to take the initiative. And if she truly had no interest in him, why would she offer to cook for him the moment she contacted him?
Would a woman show off her cooking skills in front of a man she wasn’t interested in?
Xie Chen made up his mind. No matter how terrible the food tasted, he would praise it enthusiastically.
Then he glanced at himself in the mirror and immediately got to his feet, heading for the wardrobe.
This time, he had plenty of options.
