Chapter Twenty-Six: Hype and Filming

What is hype? Hype is the deliberate act of leaking ambiguous rumors or unusual phenomena to attract media coverage. To put it more plainly, it's about stirring up trouble out of nothing, using the media to ignite the public's hot spots. On the surface, the goal of hype is popularity, that is, public attention; fundamentally, it is for fame and fortune.

Gu Zhi’s incomprehensible remarks at the launch press conference were, of course, nothing but hype. A single “fifty million,” a single “Ning Hao is the best director in the future of Hua Country”—the influence these statements exerted was even greater than what Zhongying achieved with its recent, costly publicity campaign.

That very evening, after the press conference, Gu Zhi’s actions were broadcast on every major TV station. Whether it was Guangxian or the entertainment channels of various networks, almost none failed to report the news.

“Student Gu claims his first film will surpass Feng Xiaogang’s in every way!”
“Arrogant freshman at Northern Film Academy declares himself one of Hua Country’s best directors!”
“‘Butterfly Effect’ vs. ‘A Sigh’—renowned young author’s debut goes head-to-head with Feng Xiaogang.”
“Hua Country’s first science fiction film, vowing to surpass Hollywood? The fantasy of a dreamer.”
“Box office to exceed fifty million? Wake up, young man.”
…
Such sensationalist headlines were countless. Many reports completely distorted the specifics of the press conference, quoting out of context, and most of what they wrote was simply incorrect.

But there was nothing to be done. The nature of the media had long ceased to be about reporting truth. Anything that could stir the emotions of the audience, never mind if it’s true; anything that could turn ordinary news into public outrage, never mind if it’s deliberately twisting facts.

Between truth and falsehood, how much is self-directed, and how much is distortion of right and wrong?

All in all, Gu Zhi achieved his aim: this round of hype cost not a penny, yet now everyone across the country knew about “Butterfly Effect.”

Moreover, that very day, the media rushed to the set of “A Sigh” to interview Feng Xiaogang about the incident.

“Gu Zhi? I know him. His ‘Infernal Affairs’ was brilliantly written. If only its style suited our domestic environment, I’d love to buy the rights and make it into a film. I heard he’s recently entering our film industry—a young man, not simple indeed.”

“Welcome! Why wouldn’t I welcome him? We all started out as newcomers. We should be more tolerant and encouraging to the youth.”

“What? Fifty million!”

“Surpass me?”

“Who is Ning Hao?”

“Ah! The best director in Hua Country!”

…

“Young people, a bit arrogant, ambitious—that’s a good thing. But some youngsters in our country… well, how should I put it? Growing up in privileged environments, never having faced setbacks, blindly arrogant and unaware! When they fall, when they climb out of the pit, after reality hits them hard, then they’ll know their own measure.”

This segment of the interview was reported the day after the press conference, igniting another wave of public discussion. Feng Xiaogang even took the opportunity to promote his new movie.

He was a veteran at hype, practiced for decades. When a hot topic came knocking, how could “Little Steel Cannon” resist joining the fray?

At this moment, Gu Zhi was with Ning Hao, filming on set.

Regarding Gu Zhi’s shock-inducing remarks yesterday, Ning Hao was somewhat angry, but ultimately offered a degree of forgiveness.

He was still considered a newcomer in the film industry, and now, thanks to Gu Zhi, he’d been elevated to such heights—shoulder to shoulder with Feng Xiaogang—meaning he’d unwittingly offended Director Feng and a whole swath of industry insiders.

How could he cope with that?

If “Butterfly Effect” really did, as Gu Zhi claimed, become a box office hit, then Ning Hao could boast about it in the industry. But if it flopped, who would ever dare let him direct again, now that he’d offended everyone?

“Don’t worry, you won’t lack presence in the film industry from now on. And what I said was all true—you should have more confidence in yourself.”

“If this film flops, I’ll write you another script, guarantee you’ll direct again. If that flops, I’ll write another, until you make a name for yourself.”

Setting aside practical concerns, Gu Zhi’s sincerity in these words was unquestionable.

Ning Hao knew Gu Zhi’s actions were all for the sake of their debut film. Hearing this, he put aside his discontent.

At this point, their only option was to make “Butterfly Effect” as well as possible. All problems would resolve naturally.

The filming of “Butterfly Effect” was divided into two main parts: the protagonist’s university years as an adult, and the various childhood encounters.

Because the male lead’s consciousness returns to the past to change events that happened in childhood, each childhood scene had to be filmed twice. Once for the events as they originally happened, and once for the events as actively changed.

This, in effect, reduced the workload: sets could be used twice, only the acting differed, which required high-level performance from the child actors.

Thus, compared to the adult scenes, the child actors’ parts were easier to shoot, provided the rhythm of performance was well handled.

Ning Hao decided to start with the adult scenes.

He preferred to tackle the difficult parts first, then move on to the easier sections—his style was to begin with complexity and finish with simplicity.

Filming officially began. The first scene was set in a hospital room: the protagonist’s introduction, a solo performance by Liu Ye.

The set had been constructed early, lighting was ready; Liu Ye was walking through the space, rehearsing his movements to confirm his positioning for the scene.

The lighting technicians adjusted their setups according to his movements, the cameramen set their positions and trajectories, and the art department continued to tweak the scene.

The crew members took their places as per procedure, awaiting Ning Hao’s command.

Zhongying hadn’t assigned Ning Hao an assistant director; he had to manage it all himself. It was his first time directing a film, and facing a crew of dozens, nerves were inevitable.

Luckily, Han Sanping had given strict instructions to the crew to do their utmost for this film, even sending Liu Qi’s secretary to maintain order. Otherwise, Ning Hao might not have been able to direct this experienced group.

Surveying the crew, Ning Hao nodded at Gu Zhi, then raised his head and called out, “Start shooting!”

Liu Ye, dressed as a hospital patient, returned to the starting position, took a deep breath, and instantly adjusted his mood and posture.

“Action!”

As the clapperboard sounded, Liu Ye immediately entered character.

In the dim room, through frosted glass, a blurred figure hunched over, pacing slowly toward the main door.

After pausing in front of the door for a second, the figure suddenly kicked it open, darted inside at high speed, then, amid heavy breathing, quickly turned, closed the door, and locked it.

“Cut!”

The first five-second shot ended.

“Director, how was it? Did we get it?”

Still out of breath, Liu Ye craned his neck, hopefully asking.

“OK! That’s a wrap, prepare for the next shot.”

The camera shifted to a position inside the room, aimed at the sofa.

Liu Ye faced the sofa, still hunched and ready to move.

Soon, another nearly five-second shot: he needed to run to one end of the sofa, push it to block the door, then crawl under the desk, pick up a record pad, and begin writing and reciting his lines.

“A piece of cake.”

Liu Ye thought to himself.