After Transmigrated as a Black-Hearted Entertainment Boss [Transmigration] - Chapter 20

In the end, Tao Zui didn’t jump out of the cart, and once the golf cart drove into the twenty-meter-high soundstage, he wanted to jump even less.

“What you’re seeing now is the set design for the Underworld in the movie. It’s not completely finished yet, but it’s close. When the time comes, we’ll use CGI to blend these practical sets with location footage shot in Chongqing to create a layered effect. Because of the height constraints, we can only build the top and bottom floors separately and use special effects to fill in the middle…”

The golf cart didn’t stop upon entering the soundstage, carrying the three of them through streets and alleys. Because of the architectural style, it truly gave one the sensation of wandering through the Underworld.

Yes, streets and alleys—Zhou Fanghong had built an entire city inside this massive soundstage.

The buildings showed an obvious traditional Chinese architectural style; the elements of upturned eaves and bracket sets were everywhere. But unlike typical historical buildings that were only two or three stories high, these structures were clearly designed for a much higher elevation. In fact, because of this ahead-of-its-time design, they looked slightly crooked and distorted, giving the entire complex a bizarre aura—

Ancient yet modern, like old things that had twisted and warped to adapt to rapidly evolving modern technology.

Tao Zui couldn’t describe what he was feeling, but if this atmosphere could be perfectly executed on the big screen, it would bound to cause a sensation.

This was something only Chinese people—who possess five thousand years of history and an unbroken cultural lineage—could truly feel.

After making a full loop, the golf cart returned to a corner near the main doors of the soundstage. This seemed to be where Zhou Fanghong and his team designed and manufactured props. Aside from a ring of computers lined up against the wall, there were about a dozen square tables, each holding a highly detailed and eccentric model of a city corner.

In addition to these, a dozen sleeping bags were scattered across the floor, with many young-looking men and women sprawled out horizontally and vertically. The men were covered in stubble and the women looked completely disheveled—clearly, they had been heavily worn down by work for a long time, keeping going entirely on pure willpower.

Seeing Tao Zui eyeing the sleeping “corpses” on the ground, Zhou Fanghong cleared his throat and introduced them: “They’re all employees and interns from my studio… Ahem, CEO Tao, this way please.”

The three finally sat down in front of a computer in the corner. Beside them was a computer rendering a model, at their feet were sleeping men and women, not far away was a model table with tools scattered about, and the background was a chilling, ancient-style architectural complex. Yet, Tao Zui’s mood was much more settled than before.

After sitting down, Zhou Fanghong fished an unopened bottle of mineral water from the computer desk and handed it to Tao Zui, saying with a smile: “As you can see, the sets are basically built; the remaining bit can be finished within a month. The props and costumes are mostly designed too. The rest of the main crew is expected to join by the end of June, but the lead actors haven’t been finalized yet, so…”

Tao Zui accepted the water, a delighted expression on his face. “The leads aren’t finalized yet? What are your requirements for the main lead, Director Zhou?”

Seeming not to expect Tao Zui to ask this, Zhou Fanghong didn’t know how to answer for a moment, instinctively casting a glance at Wang Dafa.

Wang Dafa cleared his throat. “As for the requirements… everything is up for discussion, actually. But because of the script’s setup, this movie is a proper ‘one-man show’ for the male lead. His screen time accounts for over ninety percent of the film… Of course, the script isn’t set in stone either; we’ve left plenty of room for adjustments.”

Hearing this, Tao Zui felt something was off. “The script can still be changed?”

“Well… as long as the core concept isn’t altered, everything else is easy to discuss.” The flesh on Wang Dafa’s cheeks twitched twice as he answered with some difficulty.

Can you really do that? Why does it always feel like something is wrong… Tao Zui instinctively sensed a disconnect in their dialogue, but he didn’t rush to point it out. Instead, he seized the opportunity to ask, “Can I take a look at the script?”

Wang Dafa and Zhou Fanghong exchanged a glance, a flash of delight crossing both their eyes. They nodded hurriedly. “Of course! I remember the final script was… right, here!”

Wang Dafa fished out a tablet from a pile of clutter on the adjacent computer desk and handed it to Tao Zui, his face covered in smiles. “Here, take a look! We’ll talk after you’re done!”

Tao Zui smiled at them and lowered his head to read the script.

The Afterlife was indeed a film full of fantasy elements, yet it took place in the distant future. The movie’s tone perfectly matched the feel of Zhou Fanghong’s CG short—in a nutshell, it was electronic ghosts clubbing in a cyberpunk world.

The story was set in the year 2148. Stagnant technological development had left over twelve billion humans trapped on an Earth running thin on resources. A failed physics experiment in 2145 seemed to open another door for humanity.

The male lead, Lei Ze, was a narcotics officer in City C. During a drug raid, he was involved in a car crash; his partner died on the spot, and he was severely injured. He was forced to undergo total cybernetic modification, replacing sixty percent of his body with steel and iron bones—even a third of his brain was swapped for a cybernetic one.

Because his cybernetic replacement rate was too high and a portion of his brain was damaged, the once cheerful Lei Ze became gloomy and silent, consumed entirely by a desire for revenge. But as his investigation deepened, he slowly discovered that the new type of drug currently flooding the market seemed linked to the failed physics experiment from three years ago. These drugs weren’t just destroying human will through addiction; those addicts shouting about taking their families and friends to a blissful afterlife might actually be seeing something real. Meanwhile, a mysterious man appearing in Lei Ze’s hallucinations was investigating the truth alongside him.

After finishing the script, Tao Zui calmed his emotions and asked deliberately, “Are these sets prepared for the hallucinations of the male lead and the addicts?”

Zhou Fanghong and Wang Dafa nodded repeatedly, and the former added, “It’s also the actual setting for the Underworld.”

Tao Zui gave an “Mm” and then asked, “The male lead has to play two roles? And he needs to show a personality shift before and after the car crash… You could say he’s playing three characters in one, right?”

The two heavily bearded primitives looked at each other, and Wang Dafa said hurriedly, “We can change it, all of this can be changed! Besides, the male lead’s personality after the crash actually shares traits with his personality when half his soul becomes an Underworld soldier—it just needs a little adjustment!”

Tao Zui smiled, handing the tablet back to Wang Dafa. “Why change it? The more layers the male lead has, the more three-dimensional the character becomes. In a one-man show, if the lead doesn’t hold up, the movie loses more than half of its appeal.”

Wang Dafa slapped his thigh. “I knew you were someone destined for great things, CEO Tao! That’s an exceptionally sharp insight!”

Zhou Fanghong’s eyes also lit up, and he stared at Tao Zui. “Then what about this set? What do you think of it?”

Tao Zui turned his head to look at the spectacular practical city set. “I’ve watched your CG short on Bilibili, so I have a general idea of what kind of silver screen visuals you’re chasing. To be frank, faithfully bringing that kind of effect to the screen is hard. Merging it perfectly with the plot so every element is retained without feeling abrupt is even harder.”

Seeing the light gradually fade from Zhou Fanghong’s eyes hidden beneath his messy hair and beard, Tao Zui shifted his tone: “But judging by what you’ve completed so far, you’re already halfway to achieving what you’re chasing.”

Zhou Fanghong’s eyes instantly brightened. “You think so? You really think so?”

Tao Zui nodded, answering playfully, “Before entering the soundstage, I wanted to jump out of the cart several times. Now, you couldn’t kick me out even if you tried.”

Zhou Fanghong jumped up, spinning around like a headless fly, before pulling out a pack of instant ramen from somewhere and shoving it into Tao Zui’s hands. “Eat!”

Tao Zui looked at the instant ramen in his hands, caught between tears and laughter. Beside him, Wang Dafa scratched his hair and stroked his beard, looking overjoyed and unsure of what to do. “CEO Tao, to be honest with you, Old Zhou completely emptied his family coffers to build this practical set, and he can’t bring himself to ask his family for more… Our crew has over seven hundred people. The people you see here are only responsible for making models; another few hundred will arrive this afternoon. The cost of box lunches alone is a massive daily expense, and we still need to do special effects later… You can tell what kind of person Old Zhou is—he strives for absolute perfection and nitpicks every detail. He definitely won’t skimp on the effects, but our funds are…”

The more Tao Zui listened, the more off it felt. He quickly interrupted Wang Dafa’s rambling. “What did you two think I came here for today?”

Wang Dafa froze. “To invest… CEO Tao, don’t worry, we don’t need much. Fifty million… no, forty million works too!”

Tao Zui: “…I actually came to discuss casting an actor.”

Wang Dafa & Zhou Fanghong: “…”

Tao Zui: “I said so when I called before—I am an agent from Taoli Entertainment, seeking a collaboration.”

Wang Dafa: “Really?”

Zhou Fanghong: “It seems… that was the case.”

Wang Dafa: “…”

After a round of explanations, both sides finally sorted out that this meeting had been a total misunderstanding from start to finish!

Wang Dafa rubbed his face, looking completely dejected. “The crew is facing a broken capital chain. We were desperate, begging everyone we knew, making countless calls, and receiving plenty of inquiries. But as soon as people looked into it deeply… Later, we decided to trick… I mean, call people over first, thinking maybe they’d change their minds once they saw the practical sets. In the end, out of everyone, only you showed up, and yet… sigh.”

Tao Zui looked at Zhou Fanghong, who was sitting with his head down in silence, then back at Wang Dafa. After a moment’s thought, he pulled out his phone and pulled up Gu Nan’s profile photo. “Even though it was a misunderstanding, my desire to collaborate hasn’t changed. If possible, I hope you two will consider my artist.”

Perhaps because Tao Zui had previously expressed affirmation for the script and the practical sets, Wang Dafa took the phone and glanced at it, even though he knew the man wasn’t an investor. “We don’t even know if we can still shoot… Holy crap! Old Zhou, look!”

Zhou Fanghong leaned closer, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. The next second, he bolted up and rushed to the computer desk. After rummaging through a pile of papers, he rushed back and shoved a piece of paper right in front of Tao Zui’s eyes.

Tao Zui focused his gaze. Drawn on that A4 sheet were two men: one wore a highly high-tech uniform, his exposed limbs gleaming with a metallic luster; the other wore a dark, muted robe, holding a metallic umbrella that flashed with blue light.

Their auras were similar—one gloomy and ruthless, the other silent and unyielding. On their identical faces, the cool lines of their brows and eyes looked strikingly familiar.