Chapter 28: Whoever Is Popular Is the Truth

"Alright, everyone, positions."

"Action!"

"What is your school's motto?"

Dressed in a traditional Tang suit and twirling Buddhist prayer beads, Uncle Benshan carried the distinct air of a gangland boss. The scene finally felt harmonious.

"Huh?"

"Recite your school motto for me."

"I can't remember."

"How about you, Wang Yiyang?"

"Respect the teacher and value the Way; pass the torch from generation to generation." Xu Ming replied with a perfectly straight face.

Behind the monitor, Teng Huatao paused, only just noticing this line in the script. That was the motto of his own alma mater, the Beijing Film Academy. In reality, the author of the original *Love is Not Blind* was a graduate of the same school—a junior to Teng. When Xu Ming wrote the script, he had realized the oversight but couldn't be bothered to fix it. Besides, as a graduate of the "Liu Laogen Stage," he didn't exactly have a school motto to cite.

"Alright, Wang Yiyang, you can go now."

As Uncle Benshan’s voice faded, Xu Ming walked away with a stiff, formal gait. Once he was behind his master’s back, he suddenly turned around with an effeminate flair, performing a provocative, slinky dance toward Xiao Songjia that was just plain obnoxious. It was even more punchable than Wen Zhang’s performance in the original film. Given that Xu Ming already carried a reputation for being somewhat "effeminate" in the public eye, there was absolutely no sense of dissonance in his movements.

"Pfft—!"

This time, it was Xiao Songjia who broke character. But she wasn't alone; the entire set erupted into laughter. Behind the monitor, Teng Huatao gave a thumbs-up, signaling his approval of Xu Ming’s impromptu performance. Fortunately, Xiao Songjia had laughed late enough that it didn't ruin the take; this one was a keeper.

"What's going on? What did this kid do to make you all laugh like that?" Uncle Benshan, puzzled, walked over to the monitor to watch the playback and soon joined in the laughter.

He turned and gave Xu Ming a playful kick, saying, "You little brat, that dance of yours was so annoying, I had to let off some steam for everyone."

"I’m just following your teachings, Master." Xu Ming gave a cheeky, roguish grin, truly embodying the role.

"That state is excellent. Let’s do one more for safety," Teng Huatao called out. It was rare for a scene to be completed in one take; usually, they filmed three to give the editors options. More extreme actors might even offer four or five different interpretations, leaving the director to pick the one that fit best. After all, they were no longer shooting on film.

The crew reset, and they performed the scene again. Watching Xu Ming’s performance on the monitor, Teng Huatao lowered his voice and asked his assistant director, "Do you find Xu Ming's style familiar?"

"A bit, yes." The assistant director, part of Teng's regular team, observed carefully before tapping his head. "It... it looks a bit like Wen Zhang." They had only wrapped up *Dwelling Narrowness* in February, less than a month ago, so they were naturally very familiar with Wen Zhang’s acting style.

"Heh, you're mistaken," Teng Huatao paused, his tone meaningful. "It’s Wen Zhang who looks like him."

The assistant director froze, then realized the implication, feeling as though he’d been enlightened. In this industry, whoever is popular dictates the truth. When Bai Baihe first debuted, she carried the label of "Little Wang Luodan." Later on, however, whenever Wang Luodan was mentioned, people started saying *she* looked like Bai Baihe. The same applied to Liu Shishi; when she debuted, her management pushed her as the "Little Liu Yifei," but after she became a star, no one mentioned that label again. Countless cover songs became hits, and audiences eventually forgot who the original singers were.

The day’s work dragged on until late at night. Xiao Songjia remarked, as if in passing, "Are you heading back to the hotel tonight, or somewhere else?"

*Damn,* she was clearly hooked. It was said that a woman at thirty is like a wolf; in his view, even though she was a year younger, she already had the predatory hunger of a wolf.

"Did you forget Director Teng’s warning? We need to maintain some emotional distance during this period," Xu Ming said righteously.

"I just wanted to ask if you were going the same way. If you were, I’d give you a lift." Xiao Songjia’s face flushed; she glared at Xu Ming in embarrassment and walked off.

She shouldn't play the saint; she knew exactly what color his underwear was.

"Hmph, see that? That’s what we call an actor’s self-cultivation and professional ethics. Remember that; you should learn from me in the future," Xu Ming lectured his assistant, Xiao Yuan.

Once he climbed into the company-provided van, he immediately sent a text to Guan Tingna.

[How is that old turtle-hunting business coming along? I’m not rushing you, just checking in. That stuff is just the icing on the cake for me anyway.]

Putting his phone away, Xu Ming looked at the middle-aged man sitting across from him. Wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a professional suit, he looked every bit the corporate elite. He was the new CEO Xu Ming had hired for his company. Previously, he could get away with playing around, but now that the company was on the right track, he needed a professional manager to execute his plans.

For *Diors Man 2*, he had only sold the distribution rights along with exclusive broadcasting rights, keeping the copyright for himself. He also retained the right of first refusal for funding any future sequels. Although, given the immature state of domestic copyright protection, this IP didn't bring in massive revenue in the short term, it would provide a steady stream of income in the future. It was just like LeEco—even after the boss ran away, the copyright revenue from *Empresses in the Palace* was enough to keep the remaining staff well-fed.

"According to your instructions, we have acquired the film and television adaptation rights for all the web novels on your list where possible. However, some negotiations fell through; the asking price from Xueting Company exceeded our budget."

"For instance, they requested 1.5 million for the film rights to *Ghost Blows Out the Light* for a five-year term. I think it’s worth reconsidering," said Tang Sheng, the manager.

Anyone familiar with web literature would know exactly which company Xueting was. They were truly ruthless; when they bought the full copyright to *Ghost Blows Out the Light* in 2007, the total cost was only 1.5 million. Less than two years later, they were asking for a buyout-level price just for the adaptation rights. The kicker was that Xu Ming was actually tempted. He knew better than anyone what a golden mine web novel copyrights were becoming. *Ghost Blows Out the Light* was the crown jewel; if not for the copyright entanglements, *The Grave Robbers' Chronicles* wouldn't have been able to leapfrog it. Because of a single impulsive decision made during a drinking session, the gap between the futures of Tianxia Bachang and the Nanpai Sanshu was set.

"Keep negotiating. Try to secure it for one million with a ten-year term. I’ll find a way to handle the funding. Also, check with the banks to see how much we can get in mortgage loans," Xu Ming said.

Gritting his teeth and tightening his belt now would pay off in a massive head start later. This was, arguably, the final reshuffling period for the domestic film and television industry. In a year or two, as capital flooded in, trying to snatch up IP for such a low price would be virtually impossible. By 2014, with the rise of internet video platforms, the cost of everything in the entertainment industry would be driven to an unimaginable height.