After Transmigrated as a Black-Hearted Entertainment Boss [Transmigration] - Chapter 35

“Alright, cut! Lights on!”

Tao Zui was just in a daze when he heard Zhou Fanghong call “cut.” Reflexively, he turned his head toward the center of the filming site, catching Gu Nan’s gaze as the boy looked over.

Those eyes, which moments ago had been dead and void, instantly brightened. Upon seeing who was standing beside him, they curved into a faint smile.

The three younger boys also spotted Gu Nan and immediately raised their hands, calling out in succession: “Brother Nan!”

Gu Nan waved back at them, then gestured toward where Zhou Fanghong was. The boys understood, picked up their feet, and headed over.

After brief introductions and greetings, the group gathered around the monitor to watch the playback. The moment it finished, Diwu Zou couldn’t help but exclaim: “Too cool…”

Zeng Yinuo added: “I feel notes swirling out of my brain whoosh-whoosh-whoosh, I can’t even stop them.”

Chen Xing simply picked up his tablet and continued composing.

Noticing Zhou Fanghong’s surprised look, Tao Zui gave a helpless smile. “They said they wanted to compose the BGM for the Underworld soldier Lei Ze’s entrance… well, they’re artists. When inspiration strikes, you can’t stop it. Let them write it; if you aren’t satisfied with what they come up with, you don’t have to use it.”

Zhou Fanghong beamed as he listened. “That’s fine! If it’s actually good, we’ll just sign a contract, and the soundtrack will be all yours!”

Tao Zui waved his hand. “Handing everything to them isn’t realistic, after all, their experience is limited. If they have inspiration, let them try, but for the rest, it’s better to find professional experts.”

Zhou Fanghong didn’t insist, nodding. “True. But inspiration is truly rare, and the results of having it versus not having it are worlds apart. You guys go ahead and try; record a demo and let me hear it when you’re done. If it works, we’ll use it; if not, don’t be discouraged.”

The three younger boys were instantly overjoyed, shaking their heads and hands as they answered over one another: “No, no!”

And so, it was settled. Leveraging the connections he had accumulated, Tao Zui contacted a professor specializing in the pronunciation of ancient Chinese, allowing the three boys to receive remote tutelage, which would make writing and revising their lyrics much easier.

Meanwhile, the production crew focused on filming Gu Nan’s scenes, frantically pushing the schedule to wrap up indoor filming by August 23 and head to the Chongqing location by the 25th.

After several days of endless, sleep-deprived toil, the three younger boys finally produced a demo on the night before the soundstage filming wrapped.

Taking the headphones handed over by Zeng Yinuo, Tao Zui teased: “Last time in Hengdian, you guys coughed up a demo in three days. This time it took you so long—you’re losing your touch!”

Diwu Zou immediately grumbled with dissatisfaction. “Is that our fault? If we asked you to go learn those ancient Chinese pronunciations, you probably couldn’t even sing the lyrics!”

Chen Xing nodded repeatedly from the side. “There are too many rolled tongue sounds (trills), and they all have to rhyme…”

“Out of the three of us, only Chen Xing can hit the rolled ‘r’ sound. If it weren’t for him, this demo wouldn’t even exist,” Zeng Yinuo said, rolling his eyes.

“Rolled tongue sounds? Isn’t that an articulation technique used in Spanish-language families? Do we actually have that in our country’s ancient Chinese?” Tao Zui asked with curiosity.

“Some dialects in China still use them today! Put the headphones on already; I’m about to play it!” Zeng Yinuo urged, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Tao Zui inserted the Bluetooth earbuds and tilted his chin at Zeng Yinuo. “Play it.”

Zeng Yinuo pressed the play button on the tablet.

An electronically synthesized drum beat, shifting from weak to strong, poured into Tao Zui’s ears. The overall rhythm was extremely slow, but for some reason, it immediately evoked the unhurried, steady footsteps of the Underworld soldier Lei Ze.

The soles and heels of the Underworld soldier’s black boots were made of wood. Because Underworld soldiers couldn’t face the heavens nor touch the earth while walking in the mortal realm, they needed wood to insulate the earthly qi. This resulted in the clack-clack-clack of his footsteps.

When Gu Nan portrayed Lei Ze, to build the atmosphere, he always walked with an unhurried, weightless ease. It hit the drum beats in the music perfectly. Coupled with the gradually increasing volume, it felt even more like a rhythmic hammering against one’s heart.

Just as the drum beat intensified to its peak, a drifting male voice suddenly rose.

Tao Zui couldn’t understand a single word being sung, yet he still couldn’t stop the goosebumps from erupting all over his body the moment he heard it. Even though the demo—both in production and sound recording—was incredibly raw, he found himself completely immersed in the atmosphere sculpted by the music. Before his eyes, it felt as if he could see that figure walking down the dark, gloomy corridor, accompanied by the sound of rhythmic wood striking the floor and the aura of death surrounding him.

After hearing it once, Tao Zui said expressionlessly: “Play it again.”

After the minute-long demo finished playing a second time, Tao Zui had Zeng Yinuo play it again. He repeated this four or five times before finally removing the headphones.

Zeng Yinuo watched his expression tentatively. “This is just a demo; it still needs refinement. And a female vocal harmony would make it feel even more evocative.”

Fifth Zou and Chen Xing nodded in agreement. “True, a male voice lacks a bit of mystery.”

Tao Zui tossed the headphones up and down, pondering for a moment before saying, “Leave it as is for now. Let’s go find Director Zhou.”

The group of four marched in a grand procession into the elevator, knocking on Zhou Fanghong’s door a few dozen seconds later.

Zhou Fanghong was pinned in front of his computer by Tao Zui, headphones on his ears, watching the rough cut of Lei Ze’s entrance on the screen. The moment the wooden heel struck the floor, the music swelled.

A minute later, Zhou Fanghong rewound it, signaling for the music to play again.

After listening to the segment a second time, he turned around, gripped Tao Zui’s hand, and said with profound emotion: “Are you really not considering letting them handle the film’s soundtrack?”

Tao Zui curved his lips, extracting his hand with a blend of pride and reserve. “I’d better not. Inspiration is something you can meet but not seek. Just because they can write the perfect BGM for Lei Ze doesn’t mean they can write the score for the entire movie. Plus, there’s still a promotional track left to finish.”

“Actually, if this segment were written a bit longer, it could completely function as the promotional track…”

“No.” Before Zhou Fanghong could finish, Tao Zui vetoed the idea directly. “This segment must only remain in the movie; use it when Lei Ze makes his entrance.”

Catching, rhythmic music paired with a mysterious Underworld soldier’s patrol—it would maximize the atmospheric tension, stir the audience’s emotions, and ignite their curiosity—curiosity about the movie, the characters, and the music itself.

It was like the sisterhood entrance music in the film Dune, or the exotic female vocals when the space station crashed in The Wandering Earth II. This piece of music, together with the scene of Lei Ze’s appearance, would be etched into the audience’s memory, becoming one of the highlights of the entire film!

As a director, Zhou Fanghong grasped Tao Zui’s meaning instantly. He gave an admiring thumbs-up. “Badass. You are truly badass! Old Tao, I’ve decided I’m clinging to your thigh for good. Following you, success is just around the corner!”

“Don’t be glib. The soundtrack is just the icing on the cake; the visuals are what matter. By the way, how is the special effects production coming along?” Tao Zui asked.

For films with extensive special effects like The Afterlife, the effects team would be involved in set design and filming guidance during the early stages. The footage would be sent off for special effects production immediately after the director’s rough cut to save time during post-production.

Naturally, doing this didn’t lower the quality of the special effects, but it didn’t reduce the expenses either. The money that needed to be spent wouldn’t shrink by a single cent.

“I was just thinking of finding a time to talk to you about that tomorrow or the day after…” Zhou Fanghong said, glancing at the three younger boys. Zeng Yinuo understood instantly, nudging Diwu Zou as they began walking out.

“In that case, Young CEO Tao, Director Zhou, we’ll head back to our rooms first.”

“Huh? Leaving already? I still wanted to hear how the special effects were being handled…” Fifth Zou’s grumbling voice vanished outside the door. Tao Zui and Zhou Fanghong exchanged a smile and sat down to talk about special effects production.

Truthfully, it all boiled down to money.

Special effects were billed by the second; the higher the precision and realism, the more expensive it was. Zhou Fanghong’s decision to commit the majority of the budget to building practical sets was, in fact, a way to save on special effects costs, as the realism of practical sets far surpassed digital effects.

Previously, Zhou Fanghong expected to use eighty million yuan for special effects. The fifty million Tao Zui invested wasn’t enough to begin with, so they would inevitably need to inject more capital sooner or later.

Listening to Zhou Fanghong finish explaining the special effects, Tao Zui nodded, but he didn’t immediately agree to the additional investment. Instead, he asked: “After the additional investment, how much do you plan to spend on distribution?”

A movie couldn’t just be released because it was filmed; post-production promotion and cinema scheduling all required money. Yet Tao Zui hadn’t heard a single mention of distribution expenditures throughout the entire process, and it hadn’t even appeared in the budget.

Zhou Fanghong looked surprised. “Didn’t I tell you?”

Tao Zui blinked. “Tell me what?”

Seeing Tao Zui’s blank expression, Zhou Fanghong scratched the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly. “I guess I didn’t… well, you see, my family business is chain cinemas. We are one of the main IMAX partners in China.”

Tao Zui: “……Tell me more.”

“Actually, there’s not much to tell… Do you know Ocean Cinemas?” Seeing Tao Zui nod, Zhou Fanghong continued: “My grandfather’s generation was in real estate development. When it got to my father’s generation, the brothers split the family assets. My father was interested in film, so he inherited Ocean Film Industry, which naturally encompassed Ocean Cinemas.

“As for why I’m begging for investments when my family is in the film production business… you can probably guess. It’s no different from those clichéd rich family tropes found in trashy novels.”

Zhou Fanghong paused before continuing: “I’m an illegitimate child. My father and his legal wife had a business marriage; the two of them always did their own thing. Originally, to guarantee the interests of their business marriage, they both underwent sterilization after having my older brother. Who knew I was an accidental addition? My mother didn’t know my father was married, and she was furious when the truth came out. She took me and went far away to Hong Kong.

“But back then, Hong Kong’s film industry was already on a downward slope. She had a bitter life there, exhausting herself into illness. Before she passed, she told me to return to the Zhou family. As you can imagine, how could there be any place for me in that house? Just like that, I went to the States right after graduating high school to study directing and production.”

At this point, Zhou Fanghong stood up, pulled a sketchbook from the drawer of his bedside table, opened it, and handed it to Tao Zui.

Tao Zui took it and couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. On the yellowed sketching paper was a delicate pencil drawing.

On the left side of the scene was a room filled with metallic textures, and on the right was an archaic wooden corridor. The two scenes were phantom-like and overlapping, with two men standing on the left and right, gazing at each other from a distance.

The person on the left was wearing a Hong Kong Flying Tigers-style uniform, while the person on the right was wearing a Qing Dynasty official robe, holding an umbrella in his hand.