Chapter 113: Investing in Film and Television!

The wrap party didn’t end until three in the afternoon.

Jiang Lun hadn’t drunk much afterward, but he still felt slightly dizzy. This was different from last night when he drank with Cai Fei and the others—getting drunk then would have been a huge loss of face and reputation.

After greeting everyone in the crew, Jiang Lun was ready to leave.

As he stepped outside, Zhao Rong staggered after him. “Alun, come over to my place for a bit!”

“Sure!” Jiang Lun had nothing else to do anyway.

“I’ll say goodbye to the others first! Wait for me!”

After nearly ten minutes, Zhao Rong came out. The two of them hailed a taxi, gave the driver an address, and then did the same thing—collapsed in the backseat, drifting into a daze.

Zhao Rong’s apartment was rented as well, a two-bedroom, one-living-room flat of about fifty square meters.

The neighborhood was nice, and standing by the window, the view was broad and open.

Moreover, the entire home was spotless, so clean it looked as if no one ever lived there.

There’s a saying: A tidy room with no strange smells either belongs to a cross-dresser or a gay man.

Zhao Rong was definitely not a cross-dresser, but as for whether he was gay, Jiang Lun dared not jump to conclusions.

So he asked, “You keep your place really clean.”

“I just moved in here six months ago, but I’m hardly home for two-thirds of the time. My sister usually does the cleaning when I’m away.”

“Ah!” Jiang Lun nodded. That made sense—where a woman lived, the place wouldn’t be a mess.

“What about your sister?”

Jiang Lun suddenly recalled that he hadn’t seen Zhao Xian at the celebration party today.

“She’s back home on school break,” Zhao Rong smiled. “She only takes bit parts in acting, so she’s not too serious about it.”

After some small talk, Jiang Lun asked, “What are your plans after finishing this film? Taking a break?”

“Probably rest for a while.”

Zhao Rong poured him a cup of tea. “Drink some. It’ll help sober you up.”

Then he sat back on the sofa. “Lately, a video streaming site has asked me to make some projects for them. I’m still considering it. If I don’t get any other gigs soon, I might just take it.”

“A streaming site?” Jiang Lun was surprised. “You’re a TV drama director—how did they find you?”

“Heh.” Zhao Rong chuckled. “The film and TV industry is booming, but it’s actually tough. Behind the scenes, the competition is fiercer than most people realize. Last year, the government tightened control over copyright issues. Many streaming sites had to take down unlicensed content, some got fined heavily, and over half of them shut down. The weaker ones closed, while the stronger had to spend huge sums buying copyright licenses. So now, they’re transforming their business models. One approach is to produce their own web dramas and hold exclusive broadcasting rights.”

“Ah, nowadays no one really watches TV anymore. It’s like music—everyone goes online.”

Jiang Lun sighed when talking about online copyright issues.

“This is just the internet biting into the TV stations’ share, which led to these policies. But for us industry people, it’s something we should support.”

“So, does the streaming site invest in your projects?”

“We haven’t discussed details yet,” Zhao Rong said. “But they’ve proposed two options. One is for me to sign as a director. I focus on filming; they handle everything else. The copyrights belong to them, and I only get a fee. The other is for me to set up my own studio, with their investment, and sign the contract under the studio’s name. The copyrights belong to the studio, and they only have broadcasting rights. Advertising revenue gets split between us.”

After hearing this, Jiang Lun felt a surge of ideas but asked first, “Which option are you leaning toward?”

Zhao Rong thought for a moment and replied honestly, “Actually, I want to start my own studio. The problem is, I only have about 400,000 yuan on hand. I just paid the down payment on a new place that hasn’t been renovated yet. I’m already in my early thirties, and I have to consider marriage. If it fails, I’ll lose everything.”

“Well, how about this,” Jiang Lun said, “I’ll put up the money, you put in the work, and we start the studio together. As for filming, we can find investors.”

“You’re funding it?” Zhao Rong was surprised, staring at Jiang Lun for a long moment. Seeing he was serious, he asked, “How much are you thinking?”

“Is one million yuan enough?”

“That’s definitely enough to start a studio,” Zhao Rong said. “But I have to ask—are you really serious?”

“Of course!” Jiang Lun patted his chest. “Should I transfer you the money right now?”

“No need, no need!” Zhao Rong waved his hand. “But I can’t let you invest alone. If there’s risk, you can’t bear it all. How about I put in 250,000 yuan and keep a little reserve?”

“Deal!” Jiang Lun nodded, then remembered Cai Fei and Wang Qilin, so he said, “By the way, those two friends I mentioned yesterday—the brothers I lived with for three years—one studies martial arts, the other ballet. They’re on break now, so let them join your studio.”

“No problem. One boy and one girl?”

“No, both boys.”

“Both boys?” Zhao Rong was somewhat surprised. “It’s rare for boys to study ballet. If he’s messing with that, he might be wasting time.”

“Ah, I don’t know what they’re thinking either,” Jiang Lun sighed.

Actually, both had promising futures. Cai Fei was a bit held back since he didn’t make the provincial team before, but his family was wealthy, so it didn’t matter much. He could always open a martial arts school and be a coach later.

Wang Qilin was even better off. Given the current ballet market, he was quite a hot commodity.

So last night, Jiang Lun had dismissed their entrepreneurial ideas. But if they had a project together, like opening a school to teach both martial arts and dance, he was supportive.

“If they’re still students, let them come. It’ll be good experience,” Zhao Rong said. “So, it’s settled then? This studio will be a joint venture. You hold 80%, I hold 20%.”

Jiang Lun said, “Once the studio is up, I won’t be watching over it every day. You’ll have to handle everything.”

“You can rest assured. I’m investing money too, so I won’t let it go to waste. If this succeeds, the next step is to open a company, haha...” Zhao Rong laughed excitedly. “I can’t wait. Tonight I’ll contact some friends in the industry and see who has good scripts. We’ll pick the best.”

“I’ll handle the scripts,” Jiang Lun said, thinking of the resources he had. Finding a suitable low-budget project wouldn’t be a problem.

“You?” Zhao Rong was doubtful, but then recalled that Jiang Lun was the bestselling author of “Ghost Blows Out the Light” and felt a little relieved. Still, he said, “Look around for scripts. We’ll film whichever is best. Our chance is rare, the first and only one. We must succeed—failure is not an option!”

Jiang Lun nodded, fully agreeing. “Once we have a good script, we can seek investors. I’ll reach out to Director Liu; Yi Da might invest a bit.”

“Streaming sites usually fund small-budget projects. They don’t invest much. Nowadays, shooting a TV drama doesn’t cost much. Actually, like ‘City Beauty,’ excluding actor fees, the total investment was less than two million! You might not believe it.”

“I know that. The news reports it often.”

Jiang Lun was somewhat familiar with this. Nowadays, films with budgets in the hundreds of millions mostly pay the actors. A production budget of ten million is considered generous.

“You don’t know!” Zhao Rong shook his head. “For that drama, renting the Wan Hua Lou set alone cost nearly a million. Do the math.”

“Uh... that really isn’t much,” Jiang Lun shook his head with a wry smile.

“Alright, since we’re agreed, let’s get started!” Zhao Rong took a deep breath like a soldier about to go into battle. “Tomorrow I’ll start looking for a location and preparing the studio. I know how to find a team; that’s no problem. Then I’ll reach out to some familiar writers and see if there are any good scripts.”

“Okay, let’s go open a bank account so I can transfer the money,” Jiang Lun stood up, eager.

He still had a lot to prepare, especially with the script. If he could copy one from a second-hand source, that would be great. If not, he would have to find Wang Kai, learn how to write scripts, and then rewrite those scenes in words.

The two went out and found a nearby Huaxia Bank. Jiang Lun opened a new account with his ID, and they transferred one million and 250,000 yuan, respectively.

This was the startup capital. Holding the card, Zhao Rong felt his blood boil with excitement.

“Be careful not to lose it!”

Jiang Lun joked, “Otherwise, you won’t have money to get married!”

“I know, I’ll definitely keep it safe!” Zhao Rong swore.

“Good!” Jiang Lun said. “You’re now part-time financial officer. Let’s split up and get to work!”

“No problem!”

After saying goodbye, Jiang Lun didn’t go anywhere else. He returned home alone.

He personally didn’t like acting. Though he had never directed, seeing how hard Zhao Rong worked made him even less inclined to try.

But that didn’t mean he disliked making money through film. If he could earn comfortably just by sitting back, why not?

Besides, the music industry was sluggish now, and Yi Ting’s business model was still in its early stages. Whether it could succeed was unknown.

Getting into the film and TV industry early, producing a drama to see how it goes and test the market, was necessary.

He opened his computer and searched for interdimensional web dramas.

There were plenty of titles, but then he noticed something infuriating.

None were watchable.

Clicking to play showed a 404 error.

Some just popped up blank pages.

That ill-fated second-hand script was probably going to become worthless soon.

With no choice, he searched while also checking the TV dramas he had already downloaded, looking for low-budget, well-received works.

He worked until after nine, and just before the internet was about to cut off, he found a suitable project and, at the same time, located the script. (To be continued.)