Chapter Fifty-Nine: How Did the Spring Festival Release Perform?

Chen Ling didn’t call anyone else; he only brought Chen Zhixi along, and the two drove straight to Cang Mountain.

“How do you feel about Lin Zhiying?” Chen Zhixi, sitting in the passenger seat, asked.

If this question were posed to Xu Zheng, the answer would certainly differ from Chen Ling’s, because Chen Zhixi understood the question differently.

“She’s just playing a pretty face, so there’s not much of a problem. If necessary, I can coach her onsite tomorrow.” After all, she’d played the lead in Red Cliff; at this stage, her acting skills shouldn’t pose any major issues. Besides, the character Siqing doesn’t require much acting—beautiful, good figure, long legs—the rest is secondary. The main advantage is her immense popularity, which will add a lot to the film’s buzz.

“But I didn’t expect you could get her to agree, especially for a supporting role—it must’ve been difficult, right?” Chen Zhixi’s ability to convince Lin Zhiying, who carries the titles of the top beauty and top model of Taiwan, to take a supporting role truly surprised Chen Ling.

With Lin Zhiying in the cast, audiences won’t confuse Zhang Lili and Lin Zhiying anymore.

“It wasn’t hard at all. She’s actually your fan!” Chen Zhixi teased, but Chen Ling just smiled and didn’t respond.

“It’s true.”

Seeing Chen Ling remain silent, Chen Zhixi continued, “I only tried, asking an intermediary to pass along the message. I didn’t expect much, but she agreed right away.”

“Really?” Chen Ling was skeptical; yesterday, Lin Zhiying had asked him to sign her album, which he thought was just a way to build rapport. As for truly being a fan, there’s no shortage of good singers in Hong Kong and Taiwan.

“From my observation, she really is your fan.”

“Oh? Your observation? How did you observe that?” Since he was driving, Chen Ling couldn’t turn his head, so he answered with a hint of curiosity. If such a beautiful woman really was his fan, that would be quite something.

“When we met to discuss the script, her phone’s ringtone was one of your songs!”

Chen Ling smiled slightly, “Just a coincidence, I suppose!”

He didn’t believe it at all. In the entertainment industry, people have hundreds of motives; occasionally there’s one or two naïve types, like Jing Tian, but Lin Zhiying? Not likely.

“I heard from Xu Zheng that you bought the rights to Lost on Journey?” Seeing Chen Ling unwilling to continue the previous topic, Chen Zhixi asked something she’d been eager to know.

“Yes, I think it’s a good film, and there are many aspects that weren’t fully explored. If we can shoot a sequel, it should be excellent.”

Chen Ling wasn’t surprised that Xu Zheng had shared this; he hadn’t asked for confidentiality, and Chen Zhixi had known Xu Zheng even longer than he had.

“I’ve seen the film—it’s really good. Are you planning to shoot Lost on Journey’s sequel after finishing this movie?”

After hearing Chen Zhixi, Chen Ling glanced at her, “Did Xu Zheng ask you to bring this up?”

“Yes. He wants to direct the sequel. In fact, like me, he’s seeking a transition. I promised him before that if he ever directed a film, I’d be his producer.” Chen Zhixi answered straightforwardly.

After thinking for a moment, Chen Ling said, “Having him direct the sequel isn’t out of the question. I hinted at it during the script reading. I’d planned to give him a definite answer after we finished this project, but it seems Zheng is impatient. Since you promised to be his producer, that solves everything.”

Chen Ling had wondered how to persuade Chen Zhixi to be Xu Zheng’s producer, but now it had worked out on its own. With their original team working together, half of Lost in Thailand was secured. The other half depended on getting Baoqiang and Huang Bo onboard, which shouldn’t be difficult—money could solve it.

...

The car stopped by the mountain road. Chen Ling and Chen Zhixi got out. “Is this the stretch we’ll use for tomorrow’s shoot?”

Previously, when Chen Zhixi and Chen Ling scouted locations together, the original route had been vetoed by Chen Ling, and he’d found this one himself.

The crew found locations based on the script, but Chen Ling chose based on the images in his mind, so the results differed.

“That’s right.” Agilely, Chen Ling climbed onto the car roof, raised his right hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sun, and surveyed the mountain road—there were bridges and slopes, yes, it would work.

“Tomorrow morning, have the crew contact the relevant departments to close off the road.”

Tomorrow’s scenes involved car accidents and the like, so closing the road was essential. The crew had notified the authorities in advance. Dali, being a tourist city, enthusiastically supported films that could promote the city; closing a mountain road for a day was no trouble.

“No problem, I’ll arrange it when we get back.”

“Zhixi, which release window do you think would best leverage the film’s subject? You’ve seen all the footage we shot before yesterday—the film’s quality should be clear to you.” Chen Ling jumped off the car roof, opened the trunk, took out two bottles of water, opened one for himself, and handed the other to Chen Zhixi, speaking casually.

Receiving the water, Chen Zhixi was a bit puzzled by Chen Ling’s question. “The film is excellent, and the actual footage is even more impressive than the script.”

After a sip, she still didn’t quite grasp his meaning. She’d watched the footage last night, though it hadn’t been edited and lacked music and post-production, but the quality stood out.

Everyone’s acting was spot-on, jokes were frequent—a rare comedy. As long as the upcoming scenes stayed true to the script, it would be an outstanding film.

...

They had previously discussed release dates; next year’s summer was a prime window. But Chen Ling seemed to be considering a change. Would a release in the latter half of next year be too late? As for moving it up—now it was late October. Even if they wrapped mid-November, the New Year holiday release was impossible—post-production and marketing needed time.

Could he be aiming for the Spring Festival? But Spring Festival and New Year’s holidays were very close this year.

“Are you thinking of changing the release date?” Chen Zhixi asked tentatively.

Chen Ling smiled, facing the dazzling sunlight and said,

“Zhixi, check which films are scheduled for this Spring Festival. Also, put together a report on Spring Festival viewing habits based on past data—I’ll need it. And the ratio of Spring Festival box office to annual box office, I need that too.”

“Are you really planning a Spring Festival release? Will you have time for post-production, music, and approvals?” Chen Zhixi was a bit shocked; the young man standing in the sunlight—what was he thinking?

“Is there enough time?”

“My post-production is fast,” Chen Ling smiled. “It doesn’t have to be this Spring Festival; it’s just an idea. Prepare the data for me, and we’ll discuss it later.”

This year’s Spring Festival falls on February 3rd. If filming wraps mid-November, he’ll have about two and a half months for post-production—plenty of time!

After all, he knows the right answers in his mind. As for the tight marketing window, he believed that once Chen Zhixi compiled the data, she would understand—it wouldn’t be a big issue.

Besides, he still had some tricks up his sleeve yet to be used!

He finished, opened the car door, and got in. Seeing Chen Zhixi still standing there, stunned by his words, he lowered the window and called out, “Get in—no one said we must release at Spring Festival. It all depends on the filming progress.”

As she sat in the passenger seat, still deep in thought, Chen Ling considered and reminded her, “This is just my personal idea. Right now, only you know; keep it to yourself for now, so it doesn’t affect everyone else’s mindset.”

“I understand. I’ll get your data together as soon as possible.”