Chapter Nine: Preparing to Film

Page 1/3

At nine o’clock the next morning, the group who had been discussing until past four in the morning slowly got up from the sofas and carpets, looking as refreshed as if they’d all had a full eight hours of sleep. Zhang Qianjun asked if they were tired, and Han Qiming replied bluntly, “So young, how could we possibly sleep?”

The four went downstairs for breakfast, gathering around two large plates piled high with meat buns steaming in the morning air. Over the warmth of the buns, they divided their tasks. Zhang Qianjun would handle setting up the company, injecting capital, and obtaining the film production permit as well as registering the script. Liu Chang and Han Qiming planned to meet classmates and mentors to refine the script, find equipment rental sources, and contact friends to form the crew. Li Kai, beyond contacting his own lighting team members, would handle the budget for the production crew and devise a shooting plan and timeline for filming in the foggy city.

The overarching principle was clear: maintain quality while saving as much money as possible. They would have a daily meeting each evening to review progress and budget.

Setting aside the other three, Zhang Qianjun contacted the agency that Glasses Guy had recommended last time and bought a shell company with a license plate. After much thought, he finally named it: Capital Solar System Film and Culture Media Co., Ltd. This would be his first company; others would follow with similar celestial-themed names: Saturn for talent management, Neptune for investment, Mars for mechanical hardware and special effects, and the rest to be decided based on future business developments.

He applied for the single-film production permit, but the clerk informed him it usually took about 20 working days.

With some free time, Zhang Qianjun intended to seek resources—shooting commercials was serious business and required more urging of Glasses Guy to secure more gigs. Commercial performances were scarce; the last time he had gone, singing three songs earned only 500 yuan, which felt insignificant. That kind of work only became worthwhile after one had gained fame.

After some thought, he decided to return to school to seek help from teachers and school leaders. After all, this was now a legitimate film project; they needed the teachers to chip in some financial support. With this in mind, Zhang Qianjun boarded the subway and quickly returned to campus.

Knocking on the door of the teachers’ office, Zhang Qianjun called out to the head teacher in the large office, “Teacher Xiang, are you free? I need your help with something.”

Xiang Nai, chatting with a female colleague opposite him, looked up and said, “Oh, isn’t this the big singer from our class? Rare to see you around.”

Apart from never skipping class, the young man was hardly ever seen on campus, rarely stayed in the dorm, and reportedly had almost no interaction with classmates. When asked, most described him as aloof and unapproachable. Today, however, he had come to the office seeking help—surely he wasn’t bringing trouble to me.

Inviting Zhang Qianjun in with a smile, Xiang Nai teased, “Cold and distant singer Zhang, what brings you here asking for help? Not causing trouble, I hope?”

‘Cold and distant singer? What a weird nickname—who came up with that?’ Zhang Qianjun wondered silently but replied politely.

“Teacher, I want to invest in making a movie and was hoping you could help oversee the project. If possible, I’d also like to invite you to be the acting coach for the crew.”

Xiang Nai paused, then asked, “I’m not quite clear—when you say ‘investing in a movie,’ do you mean a short film you want to make or that you’re bringing funds into an existing film crew?”

“Neither. A few seniors and I from our school have teamed up to make a youth film, one that will be released in theaters.”

“Are you being fooled by those seasoned folks from the directing department? A theatrical release? How much money are you putting in?”

“Five million.”

“Five million?!”

“Five million yuan.”

Page 2/3

The smile on Xiang Nai’s face vanished immediately at those words.

“Who convinced you to invest? Tell me now—I’ll call Dean Tian of the Directing Department. This is nonsense, finding a sucker right at our school and using a junior like that for their scams. If talking doesn’t work, I’ll go to Dean Wang. This is unacceptable!” His expression showed clear anger.

“Teacher, it’s not what you think. Let me explain the whole process.”

Zhang Qianjun then described from the beginning—the making of music videos, to the decision to form a group to shoot a movie and their division of responsibilities. Xiang Nai asked several questions, which Zhang answered thoroughly.

After understanding the situation, Xiang Nai took out his phone and contacted colleagues from the directing department to learn more about the individuals involved and their reputations. After a round of calls, he learned that Liu Chang and Han Qiming also went to the school seeking help that morning, which eased his worries somewhat—at least it wasn’t a budget scam.

Then Xiang Nai voiced a question lingering in his mind: “Can you really put up five million for a movie?”

“Yeah, it’s already been transferred to the company’s account.”

“But your company is just you, right? How do you handle the finances?”

“We hired an accounting firm.”

Seeing Zhang Qianjun say this with a deadpan expression, as if investing five million in a film was as casual as eating a pancake, Xiang Nai was shocked but also a little envious inside.

‘Damn, I couldn’t even raise five million. A freshman just casually comes up with that kind of money—it’s not fair.’

But as a middle-aged man nearing the prime of his career, Xiang Nai had some restraint.

“Do you have the script? Let me see.”

“Yes, please take a look.”

Zhang Qianjun handed over the initial draft of the script the three had revised.

Xiang Nai read quickly, about ten minutes, then looked up.

“Qianjun, there’s a bit of a problem here. If you submit this as is, it probably won’t pass the review.”

Huh? Zhang Qianjun’s eyebrows twitched in surprise. He thought he had made the script sufficiently positive and uplifting—how could it still be rejected?

Seeing his puzzled expression, Xiang Nai explained, “The film bureau might not have an issue, but since this involves the school, the education bureau will also review it. School bullying is a social education issue; you can’t just shoot whatever you want. Plus, your film’s genre shifts from a youth campus film to a youth crime film in the later stages. That complicates things.”

“So, what do we do?” Zhang Qianjun asked directly.

“Change the script, use connections, find loopholes. Once you get past the public announcement periods for the production and distribution permits, there won’t be much trouble. After all, your small operation won’t attract media attention.”

At this moment, Sui, a teacher sitting opposite Xiang Nai who had been silent until then, interjected, “Xiang, what kind of teaching is this? You’re telling a freshman such practical tricks?”

“He’s already got five million to make a movie. The sooner he encounters reality and the more he experiences, the better for him,” Xiang Nai asserted confidently.

Then he added, “Come see me tomorrow at 10 a.m. I’ll take you to meet Dean Wang. If your teachers can’t solve the problems, we’ll need to get the higher-ups involved.”

As expected, Old Xiang was supportive of his own. After thanking him, Zhang Qianjun returned to class, continuing his usual college life.

After Zhang Qianjun left, the female teacher opposite Xiang Nai asked, “Xiang, your student is remarkable—a freshman with five million to invest in a film. What kind of family background does he have?”

“No idea. Just remember he’s a handsome guy, good at singing and dancing. There are plenty of rich folks in Qiantang willing to invest in their kids. This kid is just on another level. When I was a freshman, I hadn’t even done a big production. This guy is already investing and starring in his own film. No comparison.”

Page 3/3

Zhang Qianjun returned to class as if nothing had happened, but news of a freshman investing in a film quickly spread among related majors.

The next day, through Xiang Nai’s introduction, Zhang Qianjun met Dean Wang of the Performing Arts College for the second time—a small old man who looked more like a market vendor than a deputy dean.

With a smile, Wang Jinsong sized up Zhang Qianjun.

“Xiang told me there’s a student investing in a movie. I wondered who it was, but seeing you reminds me—you were different even during the art entrance exam.”

“Dean Wang, you remember me! You sat right at the center of the judges’ panel—so kind and approachable.”

“Center? What’s that?”

“Like the ‘C’ position—the center spot.”

“Hahaha, young folks and their new words—I can’t keep up anymore. Xiang told me about the permit issue. I’ve called Old Tian from the directing department. We’ll work together to revise and solve it quickly. You can handle actual shooting later as things develop. Have you cast the actors?”

“I’m playing the male lead, Liu Xiaobei. The female lead and second female lead, who have the most scenes, are not cast yet. Also male second lead, a young policeman, and his mentor. I want to invite you and Teacher Xiang to act as mentors—seamless handoff between masters and students.”

Wang Jinsong looked at the confident young man and couldn’t help but admire his boldness. That’s youth for you—full of confidence.

“Forget me and Xiang; this is his first time leading a class this year. He can’t be away in Chongqing for so long. For the old policeman role, I can recommend someone—a former teaching assistant from the Performing Arts College, Zhang Songwen, who can also be your on-set acting coach.”

Oh, the fishmonger is back in action—wonder what he’s up to these days.

“Great, Dean Wang. I’ll ask my senior if he wants to play the male second lead.”

“Your senior? Who?”

“Just graduated, Zhu Yilong.”

“Huh? I know him. You actually know him?”

“Yeah, I met his father when competing in Jiangcheng in high school. His father taught me for a while.”

“That’s good—keeps it all in the family.”

“Dean Wang, what I really need now is the female lead—preferably not older than 22. If she looks young, up to 25 is fine, but absolutely no casting women in their thirties or fifties as the lead—I just can’t stand those old biddies.”

“Hmm, women in their thirties are common, forties less so. Fifties? Could that be Xiaoqing? This kid sure thinks a lot.”

“Oh, and very importantly, the female lead has a scene where she shaves her head—has to be real, no fakes.”

“Well, the female lead might be tough to cast with that. The female lead’s mother role is easier—many suitable actresses.”

“No problem. As long as the acting is good and the person fits, you’ll help us select. For the second female lead, who is the antagonist, I plan to pick someone from inside the school—it should be easy.”

“Alright, I’ll ask around my contacts.”

After bidding farewell to Dean Wang, Zhang Qianjun picked up his phone and dialed.

“Brother Nong, what’ve you been busy with lately?”