Rebirth: A big star falls in love with me

He paused, looked around, and said, "So now we face a choice—should we abandon 'Scholarly Family' and concentrate our efforts on the next two projects, or try to salvage this project?"

The meeting room was silent for a few seconds.

Yang Mi spoke first. She was wearing a black suit skirt today, her makeup was exquisite, and her expression was calm: "Director Zhang, giving up 'The Scholarly Family' would be a huge loss. We've already invested over two million in the early stages. If we give up now, all that money will go down the drain. Moreover, this is the studio's first project. If our first project fails, who will dare to invest in us in the future?"

She was being very realistic. Li Xiaoming nodded: "Yang Mi is right. But the questions are: how to save her? Where will the money come from? Where will the time come from?"

“We can pool our money,” Bai Bing said, his voice clear but firm. “I just spoke with a few actors, and they’re all willing to contribute their salaries first. It’s not much, but it can solve our immediate problem.”

“I’m willing too,” Gao Yuanyuan said softly. “Although I don’t get much pay, I can reshoot the scenes for free.”

“Me too!” Zhao Liying immediately chimed in. “I’m a newcomer, and my pay isn’t high, but I can do it for free as long as I can make a good film.”

Liu Shishi, Zhang Tianai, and Wang Likun also expressed their opinions.

Liu Yan then spoke up. As a newly joined partner, she was sitting at the end of the conference table: "Regarding funding, I can also try to find a way. I've known some private investors during my three years at Enlight Media, and they're interested in film and television projects. I can try to talk to them and see if we can raise some money."

Li Bing nodded, "Although I've already left Huayi, I still have some connections there. I can give it a try."

Seeing everyone's positive response, Zhang Yu felt a surge of warmth in his heart. This was the kind of studio he wanted—not one bound by interests, but one sharing a common destiny.

"Thank you everyone," he said. "But I already have a solution for the money problem."

Everyone looked at him.

“I don’t plan to ask anyone to contribute money,” Zhang Yu said. “You should all receive your due pay. No matter how difficult things are for the studio, we can’t let our partners suffer losses.”

"Then where did you get the money?" Chen Chen asked.

Zhang Yu took a document out of his briefcase: "This is the plan I made last night—the rescue plan for 'A Family of Scholars'."

He distributed the document to everyone. The plan was thick, over twenty pages long, detailing how to do each step.

“First of all, we won’t reshoot,” Zhang Yu said. “At least not completely.”

"Not a complete reshoot?" Li Xiaoming asked, puzzled. "But all the footage is destroyed..."

“The footage was destroyed, but the actors, the sets, the costumes and props are still there,” Zhang Yu said. “We didn’t start from scratch; we did ‘reshoots’—we only reshot the key shots, and then used editing techniques to salvage the rest.”

He turned on the projector, and the storyboard for "A Family of Scholars" appeared on the screen: "I read through the script last night and divided the 120 scenes into three categories. The first category is key scenes, which must be reshot, and there are 40 scenes. The second category is minor scenes, which can be replaced by other shots or the plot can be modified, and there are 50 scenes. The third category is transitional scenes, which can be deleted or replaced by voice-over, and there are 30 scenes."

"If we only shoot the first type of forty scenes, how much time and money would be needed?" Chen Chen asked professionally.

“Time: Twenty days. Funds: Three hundred thousand,” Zhang Yu said. “I’ve already found the three hundred thousand.”

"How did you find it?"

Zhang Yu switched slides, and a company logo appeared on the screen—Orange Field Culture.

“This is…” Li Xiaoming’s eyes lit up, “Orange Field Culture? Aren’t they the ones who make TV dramas?”

“Yes, but they are interested in the film market,” Zhang Yu said. “After yesterday’s press conference, the boss of Orange Field approached me and said he was willing to invest in the studio. I didn’t agree at the time because I didn’t want to be tied down by a company. But this morning, I called him and told him about our situation. He agreed to invest 500,000 yuan on the condition that the television broadcasting rights of ‘The Scholarly Family’ belong to Orange Field.”

"Five hundred thousand?" Yang Mi frowned. "But television broadcasting rights are also very valuable..."

“It’s valuable, but we need cash to save our lives right now.” Zhang Yu said calmly. “Besides, I only asked for 500,000 from him, no more. I have other ways to cover the remaining 200,000.”

"any solution?"

Zhang Yu looked at Li Bing: "Ms. Li, you said Wang Jinghua is interested in our studio?"

Li Bing nodded: "Yes, she said she wanted to talk."

"Okay, help me arrange a meeting with her," Zhang Yu said. "The sooner the better, preferably tomorrow."

"You want her to invest?"

“No, I want her to join us.” Zhang Yu made a surprising statement. “Wang Jinghua is the best agent in mainland China. If she can join the studio and take charge of the artist management division, then we will not only be a production company, but a complete integrated agency and production company. At that time, it will be much easier to raise funds.”

There was an uproar in the conference room.

Wang Jinghua joining? That's simply a pipe dream. She's a free agent now, with countless big companies vying for her. Why would she join a newly established studio that's already facing a crisis?

"Director Zhang, this..." Li Xiaoming wanted to say it was impossible.

But Zhang Yu interrupted him: "How will you know if you don't try? Besides, I have conditions that she can't refuse."

"What conditions?"

“A 10% stake in the studio, plus complete autonomy over the artist management division,” Zhang Yu said. “More importantly, I gave her a promise—to help her promote at least three artists to the top tier within three years.”

This promise was too big. The meeting room fell silent, and everyone looked at Zhang Yu.

“Zhang Yu,” Chen Chen began, “do you know what you’re saying? Three first-tier cities in three years—that’s practically an impossible task.”

“I know,” Zhang Yu nodded, “but it’s precisely because it’s impossible that it’s worth doing. Besides, don’t we already have some promising prospects?”

He looked at the actors present: "Yang Mi is ambitious and has acting skills; she just lacks opportunity. Bai Bing is classically trained and has a unique temperament; he'll definitely succeed if he takes the artsy route. Gao Yuanyuan has a pure image that's deeply ingrained in people's minds; as long as she has good works, national recognition won't be a problem. Zhao Liying, although still a newcomer, is talented and hardworking. Liu Shishi, with a dance background and outstanding temperament, will definitely have a market in period dramas. Zhang Tianai is lively and cute, and has good audience appeal. Wang Likun is elegant and poised, suitable for serious dramas..."

He commented on each person individually, and he accurately described their characteristics and potential.

“And Chen Chen,” Zhang Yu said, looking at her last, “you’re already a near-top star. As long as ‘The Scholarly Family’ is successful, you’ll definitely be able to secure your position as a top-tier actress.”

Chen Chen looked at him with a complicated expression. This man, in the most critical moment, didn't think about retreating, but about how to use the crisis and how to get everyone involved.

“So,” Zhang Yu concluded, “we’re not begging Wang Jinghua to save our lives, we’re inviting her to participate in a grand project—building the best artist management and production platform in China. This platform has the best directors, the best actors, and the best agents. Wouldn’t she be tempted by such a combination?”