Chapter 56: Two Twos and a King—How Do You Play Against That?

Film set.

Zhang Huaimo watched the images in the director's booth, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. In truth, he was well aware of the intentions harbored by the directors and actors in the neighboring crew. Everyone was here to shoot a historical romance drama, all eager to cater to next year's booming market. Thus, rivalry behind the scenes was inevitable.

Yet with Sumu's first scene, he had firmly hoisted the banner, pouring cold water over those who had been quietly hoping for an opportunity. Some had thought that, even if the script couldn't match up, at least the actors' skills and configurations would be comparable. That way, when dramas aired across major platforms next year, the competition would be fair and fierce.

But Sumu's portrayal of Mei Changsu—just that one glance—seemed to mark the premature conclusion of this contest. "Excellent performance! Let's move on," Zhang Huaimo declared with absolute certainty.

The surrounding crew members murmured in admiration.

"I remember in the last production, Sumu hardly ever needed a retake."

"Yes, seeing it now, he's truly remarkable."

"I won't say about anything else, but at least his acting is better than Chen Yang's. I snuck over to the other set yesterday, Chen Yang seemed to overdo it—just a simple dialogue scene, but they had to shoot it twenty-seven times."

"Twenty-seven takes? Ha! The director must be spitting blood by now."

"Who knows about the director, but the cameraman must be exhausted to the point of vomiting."

…

Chen Yang walked back towards his own crew, trying his best to feign deafness. As an artist from Capital Media, he believed his resources and background were impeccable. Yet he always seemed to hit a wall with Zhang Huaimo.

He had wanted to audition for the previous drama, but upon learning that Zhang Jianlin and Zhou Yi would also be auditioning, he knew his chances were slim. He thought perhaps he could try again for the next show—only for Sumu to emerge halfway through. Not only did Sumu join the cast of "Surge," but he also overshadowed Zhang Jianlin in his villainous role. Now, seamlessly, he was collaborating with Zhang Huaimo on a second production, leaving Chen Yang with no chance whatsoever.

They were all popular because of their looks—his acting shouldn't be inferior to Sumu's, should it? Why was Sumu chosen, and not him? He had thought this way at first. That's why he wanted to observe Sumu up close, to see what made him superior.

Now, he chose to leave quietly.

This man was not fit to be an opponent.

…

…

With Sumu's outstanding performance in the opening scene, the entire crew swiftly settled into their roles. Many actors followed the emotional tone he set, each stably capturing the essence their characters required. After all, Zhang Huaimo had handpicked these actors; their skills were naturally above average. There were even a few veteran actors whom Sumu considered to have reached masterful heights.

At present, if he wished to compete in acting with these veterans, he was still somewhat inexperienced in certain aspects. Aside from his control over facial expressions—a singular skill—his other acting techniques had yet to reach their level. But Sumu was in no rush. As long as he patiently honed his craft within the crew, improvement was only a matter of time.

A month of shooting passed smoothly. In the blink of an eye, it was already December. With the gradual drop in temperature, the end of the year approached. The year was coming to a close.

But as an actor, the filming schedule always took priority. Often, when shooting was tight, one might even spend the New Year within the crew. Sumu, being alone, cared little about where he was. His original plan was to stay in Hengdian for seven or eight months anyway.

Of course, whether he could stay even longer depended on whether he could secure a deal with the executive from the Penguin production crew Zhang Huaimo had brought.

…

In the restaurant's private room at the hotel, the table was already ringed with people. Most were young men and women, work badges hanging from their necks, each engrossed in their tablets, barely touching the dishes before them.

At the center, besides Zhang Huaimo, sat a middle-aged man in a suit. His demeanor marked him as the leader among them.

Zhang Huaimo glanced at the man and smiled, "Director Yu, you certainly take this script acquisition seriously, but isn't this a bit much? If Sumu shows up, we might scare him off."

Yu Hong gave a bitter smile, sighing, "How can I not take it seriously? Our Penguin Video's drama segment has suffered a severe decline these past years—you know this, Director Zhang.

Actually, films are better; they premiere in theaters before the platforms buy the broadcast rights, so everyone gets a share. But dramas are where the losses are greatest; you have to secure traffic stars, produce good scripts and series in-house, and always keep an eye on what the other two companies are up to.

One moment's inattention, and you risk losing a huge chunk of your audience. Two years ago, I slipped up and missed the 'older woman-younger man' trend. The Oil Depot and Kiwi platforms had already launched two or three series. I, as the production supervisor, nearly lost my position.

This entire year, I haven't slept well, keeping a constant watch on the latest trends, terrified of making another mistake. If I can't orchestrate a stunning comeback next year, I really might be replaced."

Zhang Huaimo looked at Yu Hong sympathetically, patting his shoulder. He was well aware of these matters. After all, Huayi Pictures and Penguin Video had a strategic partnership. But in the past two years, Zhang Huaimo had taken his crew abroad to shoot art documentaries, hoping to win some international awards. Thus, he hadn't produced many dramas. After several projects, he only managed nominations, returning empty-handed.

Zhang Huaimo said, "Director Yu, I understand. I think this is an opportunity—Sumu is promising. Whether it's his popularity or his talent, I believe he has the potential to reach greater heights.

These three scripts are all written by him; your editors have read them and should see the merits as well."

Yu Hong nodded. He had brought the Penguin editorial team with him this time, intent on carefully scrutinizing the scripts Sumu provided. The answer, naturally, matched what Zhang Huaimo had said.

Yu Hong pondered for a moment, then whispered, "Director Zhang, give me a heads-up—what's Sumu's expected price point? It'd be best if I'm prepared when I negotiate with him. The script rights aren't the issue; mainly, his condition is to act in these two series. Considering his current popularity, his pay may be rather high."

Zhang Huaimo smiled, "Director Yu, you're overthinking it. I know Sumu well—he's loyal and principled. As long as I ask, he'll give me face; his pay won't increase."

Yu Hong asked, "How much then?"

Zhang Huaimo replied, "Not much—sixty million."

Yu Hong exclaimed, "What sixty million? Director Zhang, I'm in the industry too—don't fool me. That's not a low fee."

Zhang Huaimo regarded Yu Hong, "I would've thought it high before, but think about it: if Sumu took these three scripts to Oil Depot or Kiwi, and next year their historical romance dramas launch, they'd have 'My Sassy Husband,' 'Canglan Jue,' 'Joy of Life'—two pairs and a king. How would you compete?

Could you afford to fight against two pairs, then a king? Even if we have 'Nirvana in Fire,' to be honest, I don't know if it’s a big king or a small king. What if it's just a small king?"

Yu Hong was silent.

Zhang Huaimo continued, "Director Yu, we're strategic partners—I'm helping you. Trust me, sixty million isn't high, truly."

Yu Hong deliberated for a moment and finally made his decision. "Fine, I'll take your word for it!"

Zhang Huaimo smiled and gave a confirming look, then secretly sent a WeChat message to Sumu.

[(乛◡乛) ojbk.]

In the lobby downstairs, Sumu glanced at his phone, stood up, and headed upstairs…