Rebirth: A big star falls in love with me

"So the reason I've invited everyone here today is to discuss this matter." Zhang Yu looked around. "The studio doesn't belong to me alone; it belongs to all of us. If you're willing, everyone here can become a partner in the studio—not just a signed artist, but a true partner with shares, a say, and to jointly decide the future of the studio."

The atmosphere in the meeting room changed immediately upon hearing this. The eyes of several young actors lit up—shares? A voice? This was practically a fantasy in today's entertainment industry. Most artists signed with companies were destined to be exploited; they were lucky to receive a fixed salary, let alone have the right to talk about shares.

Yang Mi was the first to speak up. Today, she was wearing a dark gray business suit, a white silk shirt, her long hair tied in a low bun, and her makeup was exquisite and capable, making her look nothing like a twenty-year-old girl: "Director Zhang, I'm joining. I've brought the contract with me. As long as you sign it, I will be the studio's first signed artist—no, the first partner."

She took a draft contract out of her briefcase and pushed it in front of Zhang Yu. The contract was drafted by her own lawyer, and the terms were very fair, even somewhat harsh on herself—a five-year contract with her taking only 30% of the profits and the studio taking 70%, but in return, she received 5% of the shares and a promise of the female lead in a movie.

Zhang Yu looked at her; this girl's decisiveness and ability to act always exceeded his expectations.

"Yang Mi, the contract can be discussed again," Zhang Yu said. "You don't need to..."

“No need to negotiate, this is the condition.” Yang Mi interrupted him, her eyes firm. “Director Zhang, I trust you. And I know that the studio is just starting out, it needs funding, and it needs to make concessions. I’ll take less now so I can take more later. I’m looking at the long term.”

She spoke realistically, but also sincerely. Zhang Yu nodded and signed the contract.

With the first, there is the second.

Bai Bing was wearing a light blue knit sweater and white trousers today, her long hair loose and her makeup light. She had been quiet until now, when she finally spoke, her voice clear and cool: "Director Zhang, I'd like to join too. But I have one condition—the studio can't interfere with my choice of roles. I can decide for myself what kind of roles I want to play."

“Sure.” Zhang Yu nodded. “The studio’s principle is to respect the uniqueness of each actor. We don’t create assembly-line products; we want artists with soul.”

Bai Bing rarely showed a slight smile: "Okay, then I'll sign."

Next was Gao Yuanyuan. She wore a beige dress with a light yellow cardigan, her long hair slightly curled, and she looked as fresh as the morning sunlight. "Director Zhang, I...I want to join too." Her voice was a little timid, but her eyes were firm. "Although I'm still a newcomer and don't know anything, I want to learn from you. I don't even need the pay, just give me the opportunity to learn..."

“That won’t do.” Zhang Yu smiled. “We have to give you what you’re entitled to. Yuanyuan, you have great potential, and the studio will nurture you well.”

Then came Zhao Liying. She had deliberately worn a more formal light gray suit today, but she seemed a little uncomfortable, sitting there somewhat reserved. "Director Zhang, I...can I join?" she asked softly. "I know I'm not famous and don't have much experience, but I'm hardworking and willing to learn anything..."

“Of course you can.” Zhang Yu looked at her. “Liying, you have the most precious thing—sincerity. That’s something no amount of skill can buy. The studio needs an actress like you.”

Zhao Liying's eyes reddened, and she nodded vigorously.

Liu Shishi, Zhang Tianai, Song Qian, and Wang Likun also expressed their willingness to join. Their reasons differed, but their core motivations were the same—they believed in Zhang Yu and were willing to take the gamble.

Finally, everyone's eyes fell on Chen Chen.

She wore a simple white shirt and black trousers today, her long hair tied in a low ponytail, and no makeup, but her complexion was much better than a few days ago. From the start of the meeting until now, she hadn't said a word, just listened quietly, occasionally jotting things down in her notebook.

"Chen Chen," Zhang Yu looked at her, "what are your thoughts?"

Chen Chen closed her notebook and looked up. Her gaze was calm, so calm that it made Zhang Yu uneasy.

“Director Zhang,” she began, still using that distant form of address, “I have a few questions to ask.”

"You said."

"First, where will the studio's funding come from? How much registered capital is needed? How will the subsequent operating funds be secured?" Chen Chen asked professionally. "Second, what is the studio's organizational structure? What is the decision-making mechanism? Is it a one-man show, or does everyone truly have a say? Third, what is the studio's development plan? What are the short-term, medium-term, and long-term goals? Fourth, if the studio fails, what are everyone's backup plans?"

These four questions were all to the point. The meeting room fell silent again, and everyone looked at Zhang Yu.

Zhang Yu smiled. This was the Chen Chen he knew—clear-headed, rational, and always able to see the essence of a problem.

“Good question.” He took another document out of his briefcase. “This is a detailed business plan. I finished it last night. It may not be perfect yet, but the basic framework is there.”

He passed the document to everyone. The plan was thick, over thirty pages long, covering everything from financial planning and organizational structure to development goals and risk assessment.

"Regarding funding," Zhang Yu began to explain, "the registered capital is 500,000 yuan, of which I will contribute 300,000 yuan, and Mr. Li is willing to invest 200,000 yuan. Subsequent funding will come from project financing. If 'The Scholarly Family' can be successfully released and does well at the box office, we will be able to recoup the first round of funding. At the same time, I have already contacted several investment companies, and they are very interested in the studio model and are willing to follow up with investments."

"In terms of organizational structure, the studio operates on a partnership system. Everyone here is an initial partner, and each person has voting rights. Major decisions require the approval of more than two-thirds of the partners. I am responsible for daily operations, but I must report to all partners every quarter."

"In terms of development planning, the short-term goal is to complete the production and release of 'The Scholarly Family,' marking the studio's first success. The medium-term goal is to produce three films within three years and cultivate at least three actors with market appeal. The long-term goal is to establish a complete creative industry chain, from script development to production and distribution, forming a virtuous cycle."

"As for the risk of failure..." Zhang Yu paused, "Every startup has risks. But my promise is that if the studio really fails, I will use my own money to ensure the basic livelihood of each partner and help everyone find a new job. This is my responsibility as the founder."

He spoke sincerely and pragmatically. He didn't make empty promises or grandiose claims, but laid out the pros and cons clearly.

Chen Chen looked down at the project proposal, studying it for a long time. Sunlight shone on her profile, revealing her eyelashes fluttering slightly.

“I have another question.” She finally looked up. “Director Zhang, why did you suddenly decide to do this? With your talent, signing with Wayi or another big company would have made your path much easier. Why choose the most difficult path?”