After Defying the System, I Became a Genius Director

After “The Last Wish” broke the single-day box office record of three million on its third day of release, its popularity, discussion, and box office numbers soared, officially taking flight. On the fourth day, its single-day box office reached six million, and by the fifth day, it reached nine million.

Then on the sixth day of release, the single-day box office finally broke ten million!

Although this box office performance couldn’t compare with many blockbusters, “The Last Wish” was after all a small-budget independent film with a screening rate never exceeding 10%. Moreover, it had already been showing for a week when it achieved these results!

The film’s box office performance showed an upward trend for a consecutive week, which could be considered a miracle!

Not only that, but on the seventh and eighth days of release, “The Last Wish” welcomed its second weekend since release. This time it performed remarkably—even though it had already been showing for a week with less than 10% screening allocation, it still managed to break ten million in box office for two consecutive days thanks to extremely high attendance rates, truly establishing itself as a dark horse among independent films.

Unfortunately, after the weekend ended, “The Last Wish” finally saw its daily box office decline, dropping from tens of millions to millions. However, this wasn’t due to declining reviews or other factors, but simply the natural decrease in box office numbers resulting from the end of the weekend and having been in theaters for over a week.

Despite this natural decline, “The Last Wish” still stubbornly held on for another full week before ending its run, with daily box office numbers remaining stable in the millions.

The film’s final total box office settled at forty-eight million, failing to break the fifty million mark, which left many film critics who had been observing this dark horse slightly disappointed. Most fans believed that with proper promotion in the early stages, the film’s box office should have been higher, perhaps even breaking the hundred million mark.

But despite various regrets, for a small-budget independent film, this was already a remarkably impressive achievement.

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When Shao Yichen learned that the film had finally ended its run, tears welled up in her eyes, and a thousand words condensed into one sentence.

“It’s finally over!”

She no longer had to endure the double pain of being slapped in the face by both film reviews and box office numbers!

During this period, every time she opened the box office statistics app, those dazzling numbers would wound her fragile heart once more.

She questioned the box office, questioned life, questioned the entire world.

What was wrong with this world? How could people find this kind of movie enjoyable?! And how could the box office keep rising?!

But no matter how unwilling she was to believe it, the film’s box office continued to steadily grow, its reputation continued to steadily ferment, and both Li Xingyu’s name and her own transformed from unknown nobodies to slightly famous internet celebrities.

Fortunately, neither she nor Li Xingyu had any plans to open social media accounts, which to some extent restrained the film’s further popularity explosion and made both of them appear more mysterious.

When Shao Yichen learned that Li Xingyu hadn’t opened any social media accounts either, she was actually quite surprised.

Her not opening social media accounts seemed perfectly normal to her—after all, her goal was to lose money and go home. Opening accounts would only interfere with her money-losing progress, and she certainly wouldn’t do anything to create additional trouble for herself.

But Li Xingyu, as a new actor whose first leading role had achieved such impressive results, would normally have capitalized on this success by opening social media accounts. If not to attract fans, at least to retain the fans drawn in by this film. But whether influenced by the director’s mysterious style or genuinely uninterested in attracting fans, he did absolutely nothing even when the film’s popularity was at its peak.

Shao Yichen was originally concerned that he might be showing consideration for her as the director, so she indirectly asked Director Zhao about it. It turned out this junior of hers replied that finals were coming up soon, he was busy, and had no time.

Shao Yichen: …Fine, he’s got his priorities straight.

Once she knew it wasn’t out of consideration for her, she felt relieved and stopped asking.

Shao Yichen naturally couldn’t have known that it was precisely because of her refusal to give interviews and her lack of social media accounts that Li Xingyu reflected on his own impulsiveness and refused all publicity besides interviews. But since Li Xingyu didn’t mention it, she, the “culprit,” naturally had no way of knowing.

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In contrast to their mysterious image, the remaining two crew members—sound engineers Nan Rongyu and Nan Rongzhou—were quite busy during this period.

They diligently… rode the wave of the film’s popularity.

These two proactively created social media accounts, certifying themselves as “Musicians, Sound Directors for ‘The Last Wish’.” As long as there was a single person commenting on their accounts, they would actively engage, showing enthusiasm without any of the typical aloofness of musicians. They also avidly searched for reviews of “The Last Wish” every day, and as long as the reviews didn’t criticize the soundtrack, they would promptly share them, promoting the film far more actively than either the director or the lead actor.

Not only that, but they also actively participated in that late-night talk show that had sent them an invitation. Shao Yichen, having nothing better to do, also watched the show, contributing a tiny bit to its ratings. In the one-hour program, ten minutes were taken up by the host speaking, ten minutes by lead actor Li Xingyu answering questions, ten minutes by advertisements, and the remaining half hour was entirely devoted to these two brothers bragging about themselves.

Claims like “we’ve been good friends with the director for many years,” “we studied the script in depth and worked hard on the soundtrack numerous times,” “we predicted from the beginning that this film would be a work of integrity”…

They boasted so much that Shao Yichen could hardly bear to watch.

We only met less than a month ago after my rebirth, so when exactly were we friends for many years? In the previous life?!

…Thinking about it, Shao Yichen realized that it was indeed in her previous life.

Unfortunately, despite their efforts, few people were willing to spare them a glance.

According to Shao Yichen’s thinking, it should have been simple for Nan Rongyu and Nan Rongzhou to gain attention—two rich second-generation heirs who wanted fame? Wouldn’t flaunting their wealth do the trick?

All they needed to do was display their identity as heirs to the South Polar Bear Group, and even if they could only produce a few minutes of noise on their guitars, even if they had no skills at all, there would be a large group of gold-diggers flocking to them.

At that point, even if they held a children’s concert singing “Two Tigers,” people would still attend to flatter them.

Unfortunately, although the two South family heirs had always been nobodies, they still maintained the dignity of nobodies. They preferred to seek attention everywhere rather than use their heir status to enhance their value. Shao Yichen didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, unsure if their way of thinking was problematic or if they truly had their own principles.

Regardless, Shao Yichen felt she had already done all she could. Just as she was planning to terminate her business cooperation with these two former good friends from her previous life and maintain only a simple gaming relationship, an abrupt phone call changed her plans.

It was late at night on the final day before the film ended its run, ten minutes before midnight.

Shao Yichen was experiencing a rare bout of insomnia, lying in bed with her eyes wide open, staring at the empty ceiling.

After all, in just ten minutes, the film would automatically end its run, and then the system would settle the accounts.

Although she knew that the box office revenue settlement would certainly give her a resounding slap in the face, Shao Yichen still hoped in her heart for a miracle, such as the South Polar Bear Group suddenly withholding their share, or a loophole appearing in the original contract, or the system malfunctioning, or perhaps the system defining “profit” as earning one hundred million…

Just at that moment, Shao Yichen’s phone suddenly rang.

She picked up the phone and was surprised to find that it was Nan Rongyu calling.

Before her rebirth, it wouldn’t have been too strange for him to call her in the middle of the night. After all, she knew that Nan Rongyu, the older of the twins, had one flaw—he had an extremely low alcohol tolerance and got drunk easily, and once drunk, he would talk nonsense. He wouldn’t just talk nonsense to those drinking with him; he would insist on talking nonsense to whoever came to mind. Because of this, he had called Shao Yichen angrily in the middle of the night numerous times, just to tell her—

“How were you playing the game today! If it weren’t for you, our team would have won!”

Shao Yichen had been awakened countless times and suffered greatly. At first, she would snap out of her sleepiness and argue with this drunk, saying it wasn’t her poor gameplay but his problematic decision-making as team leader that caused them to lose. Later, she became smarter and simply blocked Nan Rongyu’s calls, leaving the drunk to reflect on his blacklisted status the next day.

But that was all before her rebirth. Now they had only known each other for about half a month, and were still getting used to playing together. Their relationship wasn’t particularly close, so Nan Rongyu surely wouldn’t be deranged enough to call a gaming friend specifically to criticize her gameplay.

Moreover, Shao Yichen hadn’t even logged into the game that day due to the impending film settlement, so the three of them hadn’t played ranked matches together at all!

Shao Yichen squinted as she pondered for a long time, but couldn’t figure out what would be worth this young master calling her in the middle of the night.

In any case, she wasn’t feeling sleepy anyway, so answering the call wouldn’t hurt. With this thought, Shao Yichen answered the phone.

As soon as the call connected, noisy sounds came through from the other end, sounding like a bar or a KTV.

Oh, so he really is drunk, Shao Yichen thought calmly.

Above the noisy bar sounds, Nan Rongyu was shouting with a thick tongue, clearly not in his right mind. Shao Yichen could even make out the pitiful twin brother Nan Rongzhou’s pleas in the background: “Brother, stop calling, hang up the phone,” “Brother, give me the phone,” “Brother, listen to me, you’re drunk right now”…

But drunk people don’t listen to reason, and moreover, it’s difficult for two adult males of similar build to restrain each other. So Nan Rongzhou failed to successfully take the phone from his twin brother’s hand and could only become a pitiful background voice.

Nan Rongyu pushed his brother aside while slurring into the phone: “Director! Lose all hundred thousand! Nan Rongzhou just told me everything!”

Shao Yichen’s heart skipped three beats, and alarm bells rang in her mind.

“I understand, you’re that ‘Patient’ character who’s been playing ranked matches with us recently, right?” Although Nan Rongyu was drunk, his thoughts seemed clearer than when sober. “You collaborated with us not because you valued our soundtrack, but because you wanted the South Polar Bear Group’s distribution channels, right?”

Shao Yichen felt a newfound respect for Nan Rongyu—she hadn’t expected her former friend to be smarter than she thought. But she had nothing to lose, and she also understood the cowardly nature of these twins, confident that even if they knew about this, they wouldn’t bother her once they sobered up. So she straightforwardly agreed: “I can’t deny that.”

“Haha, hic, so it’s true.” Nan Rongyu laughed a couple of times, sounding somewhat desolate, even making Shao Yichen feel sympathetic for a second.

But then she thought—she hadn’t actually deceived anyone. The film did use them for the soundtrack, and if they didn’t become famous, wasn’t that just a problem with their aesthetic taste?!

Thinking this, she became righteous again: “Even so, I haven’t violated the contract—maybe my initial claim to Nan Rongzhou about being your friend was a lie, but it didn’t affect the fulfillment of the contract.”

That was indeed the case, but one can’t reason with a drunk person.

“I don’t care! hic.” Nan Rongyu started to throw a drunken tantrum. “We didn’t become famous from this movie, hic, it’s because the film’s style didn’t suit our music.”

“I want you to make another film! Make the lead actor from the last film, hic, the supporting actor, and let me and my brother, hic, be the main characters!”

“I want you to make a film tailored specifically for me and Xiao Zhou!”

Author’s Note:

Twins: Bet you didn’t expect that we’d be the main characters in the next film, the author has already decided!

Shao Yichen: Really didn’t expect that. I immediately recited a poem…

Author: Wait, wait, wait

After discussing with the editor, we’ll be entering the VIP section tomorrow, Saturday!

Thank you all for your support!

Red packets will be dropped in the VIP chapter comment section on the day of entry~

Thanks to the little angels who cast Emperor Votes or poured Nutrition Fluid for me during the period from 2020-08-20 21:00:00 to 2020-08-21 00:00:00~

Thanks to the little angels who poured Nutrition Fluid: Where is my baby 5 bottles; Seeing Green Mountains Again 2 bottles;

Thank you very much for your support, I will continue to work hard!