Chapter Nineteen: I Cast My Vote!

At this moment, Han Sanping was still unaware of the outcomes following the release of those films, but he had already anticipated them at the time of investment. Having produced movies for so many years, he was intimately familiar with the preferences of the current domestic market.

These films, at their core, were artistic and dramatic works, catering only to a small group of literary youths. They might win minor awards, but to guarantee box office success was impossible. Nowadays, only the works of a handful of renowned directors could make money in the domestic film market; for others, not losing money was already considered fortunate.

To date, China Film had yet to produce a single box office hit, resulting in vast resources lying dormant, unable to be properly utilized.

As Han Sanping was fretting over this matter, the telephone on his desk suddenly rang.

“Ring, ring, ring…”

“President Han, Director Wan Shenghua just called. He said Gu Zhi and a student from Beijing Film Academy, Ning Hao, would like to meet with you to discuss a film. How would you like to proceed?”

On the phone, the female secretary spoke softly, not daring to raise her voice. Every time she faced President Han, who wielded immense power in the group, her heart raced, and she scarcely dared to breathe, fearful of making a mistake. Even when communicating by phone, she bowed her head humbly, maintaining a respectful posture.

“Gu Zhi? That name sounds familiar. Is he a new director from some company?” On the other end, Han Sanping frowned, vaguely recalling the name Gu Zhi, but the memory was fleeting, impossible to grasp.

The secretary’s heart tightened and she hurriedly replied, “Gu Zhi is the author of ‘Wukong’s Chronicle’ and ‘The Way Without Hardship,’ two books that rose to prominence among young writers late last year. Both books have now sold over 350,000 copies globally, and he’s been named the country’s bestselling author of the year, with fans across provinces and cities.”

“So it’s him! I asked you to buy me a copy of ‘The Way Without Hardship’ just a few days ago, but I haven’t had time to read it yet. I’ve already forgotten the author—look at my memory.” Han Sanping mocked himself, but the secretary dared not respond.

“Is this author interested in filmmaking as well…? Regardless, since he’s come to see me, I can’t refuse him. Xiao Liu, help me arrange a time. Let’s all have a meal together.”

“Alright, President Han.”

After hanging up, the secretary stuck out her tongue, relieved for having avoided a misstep. “Luckily I took the time to check Gu Zhi’s information earlier. If President Han had asked and I couldn’t answer, that would’ve been disastrous.”

Two days later, Han Sanping met with Gu Zhi and Ning Hao for lunch.

Near the headquarters of China Film Group in Beijing, there was a small alley where a modest Sichuan restaurant called Sister Zhang’s Sichuan Cuisine could be found.

Guided by Secretary Liu, Gu Zhi and Ning Hao twisted and turned through the alleyways until they finally arrived at the restaurant and met the illustrious Han Sanping in a small private room. Along the way, Secretary Liu explained to them that the flavors here were very authentic, and since President Han was from Sichuan, he led a simple life and often came here to eat whenever he had the chance. She hoped they wouldn’t mind, nor misconstrue President Han’s intentions as neglect.

Hearing this, Gu Zhi felt an added sense of respect for Han Sanping.

As soon as they entered the private room, Han Sanping personally rose to greet them, warmly welcoming both.

After a few polite exchanges, he urged everyone to sit and begin the meal. “Come, come, let’s all sit down. First, let’s eat—only with full stomachs can we talk business.”

Gu Zhi finally noticed the dishes on the table, all glowing red with spice, and he couldn’t help but swallow. Kung Pao Chicken, Twice-Cooked Pork, Boiled Fish, Husband and Wife Lung Slices, Braised Chicken with Chestnuts, Spicy Beef Strips, Hot and Sour Shredded Potatoes, and finally a plate of steamed baby bok choy—a single hint of green amidst a sea of vibrant colors.

Fortunately, everyone at the table could handle spicy food, so they ate and chatted about trivial matters, soon warming up the atmosphere.

Although Han Sanping was much older than Gu Zhi and Ning Hao, his views were anything but old-fashioned—he was broad-minded, even more forward-looking and insightful than most of his contemporaries.

Gu Zhi, destined to be a reborn soul, had many ideas in common with him, and once they began conversing, their dialogue flowed effortlessly, quickly becoming animated. In contrast, Ning Hao and Secretary Liu were somewhat sidelined; seeing the situation, they said little and focused on eating, sweating and blushing from the heat of the meal.

After the four had their fill of food and drink, they finally moved on to the main topic. Secretary Liu discreetly waited outside the private room.

“Let’s not waste time with pleasantries. Tell me about your movie.”

“But I must make myself clear up front: no matter how congenial our conversation, business is business. If your movie isn’t good enough, I won’t invest.”

Han Sanping spoke frankly, immediately laying out his principles.

Gu Zhi and Ning Hao nodded solemnly. Then Gu Zhi took out the script for ‘Butterfly Effect’ and handed it to Han Sanping.

“President Han, I wrote this script. Would you like me to give you a brief introduction?”

Han Sanping waved his hand decisively and began reading the script. He always preferred tangible things—he believed that no amount of flowery words from others could compare to what he saw with his own eyes.

When discussing a film, he insisted on reviewing it personally and would never delegate to others.

Practice is the only true test of truth—this was Han Sanping’s guiding principle. Adhering to it, he now read with utmost attention.

In fact, before meeting Gu Zhi, his attitude had been much the same as Ning Hao’s a few days earlier. Only Gu Zhi’s achievements spoke for themselves—having reached the pinnacle of his field at such a young age, he must possess extraordinary talent.

Out of respect for such ability and curiosity about Gu Zhi, he had agreed to this meeting.

Beforehand, Han Sanping had made time to read ‘The Way Without Hardship,’ and he could hardly believe such a work could be written by a minor, even suspecting that someone else might have ghostwritten it for Gu Zhi.

Later, Secretary Liu found him a newspaper with Gu Zhi’s recent remarks about dropping out of school, which impressed him even more and heightened his anticipation for their meeting.

Upon meeting, Gu Zhi did not disappoint. In both thought and learning, he did not resemble a high school dropout. The conversation dispelled all suspicion of ghostwriting, and instead, Han Sanping felt a growing appreciation for Gu Zhi’s talent.

Unconsciously, his attitude toward Gu Zhi’s film shifted from initial skepticism to genuine expectation and encouragement.

Yet after just three minutes, Han Sanping set down the script.

Gu Zhi and Ning Hao’s hearts skipped a beat.

“President Han, is there something you’re dissatisfied with?” Ning Hao couldn’t help but speak first. He loved this script and it represented his closest approach to his dream of making movies—he cared about ‘Butterfly Effect’ possibly even more than Gu Zhi did.

“So close, please don’t let it fall through here!”

But Han Sanping simply shook his head at them and burst out laughing.

“Haha, don’t worry.”

“There’s no need to read further. I will invest in this film!”