Chapter 63: I Might as Well Look for You Instead of Her

Zhao Tiantian felt that the peak of her popularity was probably right around the time the song "Tomorrow, Hello" was first released.

However, a long time had passed since then, and the hype had faded significantly. Moreover, relying solely on a single good song makes it difficult for people to remember the singer for long. At most, they liked the song itself without caring who sang it.

While Zhao Tiantian was feeling vexed, another young woman was also suffering through a wave of distress—Lü Xingting, the actress who had auditioned for the female lead.

When she realized how exceptionally well-made *Days of Being Skyward* turned out to be, she felt a profound sense of disappointment. She had once been so close to landing that female lead role, practically within arm's reach!

Just because she had looked down on the project at the time, and had also looked down on the director, her arrogant attitude had ruined a sure thing!

"Don't think too much about it."

At that moment, she was walking alongside Professor Yang Lin, who was comforting her. "That short drama is indeed quite well-shot, but that's about it. Its limitations are huge.

It can't be released in theaters, nor can it be broadcast on television, so it only has a tiny bit of fame within a small circle. You still need to focus on auditioning for mainstream production crews. You're still young; there are plenty of opportunities ahead."

"I know, it's just a bit regretful," Lü Xingting said.

"What's past is past, we must look forward," Yang Lin said. "That student certainly has some talent, but the road to truly directing television dramas and movies is still very long. Directing opportunities are even scarcer, and becoming famous is much harder than becoming an actor. I've seen countless talented youngsters over the years; how many of them actually succeeded in the end?"

Professor Yang Lin's words eventually had some effect, and Lü Xingting finally felt a little more at ease.

In truth, from Professor Yang Lin's perspective, she wasn't wrong either. Everyone only cares about the people who matter to them, and everyone has their own social circle.

So what if Director Li is talented? It has nothing to do with me, and when he becomes famous in the future, he won't share his money with me.

"You should just focus on auditioning for other big production crews. Your looks and acting skills are both good; the only thing you lack is an opportunity. Look at your Senior Sister Zheng—she just acted in one TV drama, and look how popular she is now! It's just a matter of one production. Your image is no less than hers, and your acting skills are better than hers. Why should she become famous while you don't?"

...

Because other people have more natural aura than you do!

Setting other things aside, some people simply possess superior innate conditions—some are pure and delicate, some are poised and magnificent, while others are beautiful yet non-threatening.

You could say that some people are simply born to play the female lead. When many actresses stand beside her, even if others are prettier, most people will still assume she is the heroine.

For instance, figures like Crystal Liu, Empress Sun, and Brigitte Lin.

Because the persona of the female lead matches their image completely; young men fall for their looks, and female audiences feel a deep sense of immersion watching them act.

Therefore, even if some of these actresses are occasionally criticized for poor acting skills, they always maintain a market and a huge following.

"So would she also be suited for the female lead of *Days of Being Skyward*?" Zhao Tiantian sent a message over. They had been trading texts on and off all day, naturally drifting to the topic of a fellow alumna who had recently shot to fame.

Compared to Li Jingkun, she was the one who had truly made it big, achieving nationwide renown while he was currently famous only within the school.

"She's suited for it, and if she had filmed it, it would have turned out just as wonderful."

"Then why didn't you look for her back then?"

"Look for her? If I were to look for her, I might as well look for you."

Zhao Tiantian was initially thrilled, but then she suddenly felt something was amiss. That didn't sound like a compliment at all.

"What's that supposed to mean? Am I really that bad?"

......

You find someone from Kuku Video, show them the film, and see if they want to buy it and how much they are willing to pay.

It sounds like a straightforward process, but without an introduction, who would even pay attention to you?

Saying that your short drama became popular at school and that both teachers and students love it?

Give me a break.

Self-praise is hard for people to believe, which was precisely why having Fat Luo act as an intermediary was much better.

Generally speaking, however, whenever Fat Luo recommended something, he needed to check it out for himself first. That wasn't too difficult; they could bring it over for him to see.

Before long, a content department staff member from Kuku Video contacted Li Jingkun and gave him a chance to pitch the short drama.

The staff member, named Zhang Yongxing, watched one episode and felt it was pretty decent. He wondered if this was something a college student could actually shoot, or if there had been guidance from professors or something similar.

"You're currently a sophomore at the Beijing Film Academy?"

"Yes."

"How much was the production budget?"

"500,000."

It wasn't a lie. He could be completely honest with his teachers and friends, but since he was trying to sell the project now, he naturally had to inflate the figure a bit. Besides, the 300,000 didn't even include his fees as a screenwriter and director.

"Who provided the funds?"

"I funded it myself."

Zhang Yongxing nodded. Knowing nothing about Li Jingkun, he assumed the young man was the child of a wealthy family.

"The short drama is shot fairly well, but because it's already finished, there's also a problem—it lacks product placements and similar elements, which means a portion of revenue is missing."

That was nonsense. It was a short drama shot by a college student without even a streaming platform secured yet; who would come asking to place advertisements in it?

It sounded like the other party was interested, but wanted to drive the price down?

Zhang Yongxing asked, "How much do you want to sell it for?"

They were discussing a complete buyout. Li Jingkun replied, "This is my first time selling a film, so I don't really know the market. Tell me what price you can offer, and I'll see if it's reasonable."

Zhang Yongxing said, "Since I've only watched the first episode and haven't seen the next two yet, and I also need to take it back for the management to review, I just want to get a sense of your psychological expectation right now."

Take it back to review?

Li Jingkun thought for a moment and wasn't worried about the other party secretly uploading or leaking it, because leaking it required money too.

Many directors shoot short films for fame rather than profit; if you help publicize their short film for free, they might even thank you.

Films were different—movies had to be sold for tickets in theaters and required heavy promotional funding, which was why those materials couldn't be leaked in advance.

Li Jingkun said, "How about this? You take it back for your leadership to watch and discuss it further. Once you've reached a decision, contact me with an offer."

In any negotiation, whoever makes the first offer loses. He didn't expect to make a fortune, but he wanted a baseline of at least 500,000. If the other party genuinely wanted to buy it, they surely couldn't offer anything lower than 500,000, right?

With that, the two parted ways, agreeing to get in touch later.

A few days later, Zhang Yongxing called to say that after careful review and discussion with the manager, they were offering a price of 650,000.

To be honest, Li Jingkun felt it was a bit low. He couldn't tell if they genuinely believed the short drama was only worth that much, or if they were just playing hardball.

Three short episodes with a production budget of 500,000 was actually quite economical. The short film *Old Boys* had cost over 700,000 to shoot.

Of course, if a project is poorly made, nobody will make an offer even if you spent ten million on it.

Li Jingkun didn't want to drag things out with endless back-and-forth bargaining, so he said, "Let's do this: I'll give you a price, and you can take it back to discuss again. 600,000 per episode, 1.8 million total for all three episodes."

In truth, a three-episode short drama was in a somewhat awkward position in the domestic market at the time; almost nobody produced television series that short. It wasn't like certain foreign countries where some TV shows consisted of only three episodes.

Of course, the duration of each episode would definitely exceed twenty or thirty minutes.