Chapter 38: Isn’t Business Coming on Its Own?

Capital Film and Television Base.

Inside the makeshift studio, Zhang Huaimou was leading the production team, working overtime.

Typically, a television series takes shape not only through the crucial filming process but also through post-production editing, peripheral content creation, media publicity, and signing with distribution platforms.

Now, filming was nearing completion.

The important actors’ scenes were almost done; only a few final shots remained before wrapping up.

Thus, Zhang Huaimou’s focus had shifted to editing and production.

He needed to personally supervise the process, so if anything was amiss or missing, actors could promptly reshoot those scenes.

At this moment,

Zhang Huaimou was watching videos on the computer with the editor and several veteran actors.

“Old Zhang, I have a feeling that Su Mu’s portrayal of Gao Qiqiang is going to catch fire. Sometimes, I truly admire your eye for talent.”

“Look at his gaze, his mastery of expression and behavioral logic—he’s full of drama, and it’s all right, every bit of it. Rare, very rare.”

“Hmm, this kid really is something… With makeup, he can appear older; without it, he still has the youthful charm. He’s highly adaptable, born for this profession.”

“Your vision is razor-sharp, Zhang Huaimou. You pick actors with precision!”

Receiving praise from these seasoned veterans,

Zhang Huaimou was in good spirits.

But only he knew in his heart that it was pure luck, a fortunate stroke.

Back then, all sorts of online commentators were convinced Su Mu couldn’t act and wouldn’t pass the audition. In the end, even Zhang Huaimou began to think so.

If Su Mu hadn’t given him the rights to the song “Listen,” he probably wouldn’t have gotten the audition at all.

“Su Mu is indeed excellent. I hardly cut any of his scenes; it feels like a loss to remove any of them,” Zhang Huaimou clicked his tongue. “Xiao Li, cut some of Zhang Jianlin and Zhou Yi’s parts instead, leave Su Mu’s untouched.”

The editor paused in surprise.

He hadn’t expected Zhang Huaimou to rather cut the lead actors’ scenes than Su Mu’s.

If that’s not favoritism, what is?

Just then,

Su Mu happened to walk in from outside.

“Director Zhang, are you praising me?”

Zhang Huaimou turned around with a smile: “You’re here, Su Mu.”

Su Mu said, “Director Zhang, is post-production going smoothly?”

Zhang Huaimou replied, “Yes, pretty well. Editing isn’t much of an issue. After the publicity ends, the show will premiere on Kiwi Fruit in the October season.”

Currently, among video platforms—excluding the anime-focused ones—three major platforms dominate the drama market: Oil Depot, Kiwi Fruit, and Penguin.

Often, if a drama isn’t broadcast by a regional satellite channel, its copyright is sold to one of these three platforms, or sometimes the platforms themselves are the producers.

With the rise of short videos, long-form platforms are fighting fiercely for content copyrights, investing heavily to stay afloat.

Thus, scenes of intense rivalry between these giants are common.

Each quarter, they play their cards in new ways.

If you have a popular drama with a certain theme, and I catch wind of it in advance, I’ll rush to produce a similar show to capture your audience and traffic.

If you buy exclusive rights to a series, I’ll sign a few exclusives myself, otherwise I’d be embarrassed to speak in industry circles.

So Su Mu understood that Zhang Huaimou ultimately sold this series to Kiwi Fruit, and they had paid handsomely for it.

After a while,

Zhang Huaimou finished his work, then pulled Su Mu aside.

“Su Mu, I still have to thank you. That song ‘Nowhere to Hide’ you gave me recently—I’ve found the right singer, and it’ll be the opening theme. As for ‘Listen,’ I’ll use it for the ending and the promotional short.”

“But I think I should speak with your agent. After all, it’s your creation—even with your credit for lyrics and composition, not paying royalties isn’t proper. I’d feel embarrassed.”

Wasn’t that exactly the intention?

Su Mu shook his head, wearing a solemn expression: “Director Zhang, don’t say that. Your guidance these past weeks is worth more than a song. I’m grateful to you—you’ve taught me so much. Consider the song my token of thanks!”

[Expression control proficiency +1]

[Emotion control proficiency +1]

[Skill points +0.01…]

Last week, Su Mu had given Zhang Huaimou the blind box song “Nowhere to Hide.”

In his previous life, that very song was one of the main themes for “Raging Storm.”

But Su Mu couldn’t quite handle it himself, so he wasn’t planning to sing it.

Instead, he seized the opportunity, used a bit of cleverness, and gifted it to Zhang Huaimou as the opening theme.

Afterward,

Zhang Huaimou was deeply moved.

The more he thought about it, the more pleasing Su Mu seemed, even tweaking the post-production so the villain male lead ended up with the most scenes.

But after hearing Su Mu’s heartfelt words today,

Zhang Huaimou still felt he owed him a favor. Casting Su Mu was already a lucky break, and his pay wasn’t high; now Su Mu had written an extra song for free.

It wouldn’t be right not to reciprocate.

While thinking,

Zhang Huaimou took out a file folder, then smiled at Su Mu: “Alright, since you say so, I’ll accept. Now, let’s talk business. Are you familiar with next year’s trend?”

Su Mu responded, “My agent told me—period romance.”

Zhang Huaimou nodded, “That’s right. This year, Oil Depot, Kiwi Fruit, and Penguin are all spending big, hiring directors to form teams, rushing to produce period romance dramas, and have already signed numerous popular stars.”

Su Mu said, “Looks like next year’s period romances will reach new heights in quantity. But I bet most will be formulaic; good scripts are rare.”

Zhang Huaimou smiled, passing the folder over.

“Su Mu, I have a script here. Take it home and read it. If you’re interested, we can discuss further.”

“Honestly, I’m optimistic about you. Over the years, there haven’t been many artists I’ve wanted to work with for a second project right away. You need to seize this opportunity.”

“And, I went to great lengths to get this script, so it’s still confidential. Please keep it under wraps while you read.”

Indeed, that little trick with the opening theme paid off—

Business was coming his way.

Su Mu feigned surprise, quickly accepting the folder: “Thank you, Director Zhang. I’ll read it carefully. I’m very eager to work with you again.”

Zhang Huaimou nodded with a smile: “No rush. The period romance market is a huge cake—people like us should get a slice. But my principle is, if we’re going to shoot, it must be quality.”

“So I’ve been sifting through scripts, and in the end, I settled on this one.”

“I find your understanding of scripts unique. Take a look, then let’s find time to discuss.”

Su Mu replied, “Alright.”