“Why do I feel so weird in this outfit?”
After putting on the suit, Han Sanping felt uncomfortable everywhere.
“Same here!”
Siqin Gaowa, wearing a white high-necked gown, recalled the catchphrase Chen Fusheng had taught Zhang Fei in the car yesterday. It seemed fitting here, so she used it.
“Don’t be so stiff. Relax, or you’ll make fools of yourselves on the red carpet. Especially you, Comrade Siqin Gaowa. Your gown is long, and if you’re too nervous, you might step on it.”
Chen Fusheng knew a thing or two about red carpets.
“What do I do? I’m already really nervous. With all those people watching on the red carpet, I’ll probably be even more anxious.” Siqin Gaowa was starting to panic.
“My trick is: if you’re nervous before going on, just take a few deep breaths.”
Han Sanping agreed: “Deep breaths do help.”
Chen Fusheng was also worried that Siqin Gaowa might actually trip on the red carpet, so he offered another idea:
“How about this: when we go out there, just hold onto my arm or Old Han’s arm lightly.”
The moment he finished, Han Sanping said: “Better hold onto Fusheng. He doesn’t look nervous at all. Is that what they call nerves of steel?”
“Holding my arm works too.”
“Alright, thank you.”
The opening ceremony red carpet also had an order, determined by the competing crews.
The Cowherd crew drew number 12. When the group ahead of them finished and stepped onto the red carpet, a staff member immediately led them forward to get ready.
“Cowherd crew, you may go now.”
The three barely waited; they just took a few deep breaths before the staff member beside them gave them the cue.
“Old Han, slow down and wait for us. What’s the rush? Are you trying to be reborn?”
“So many reporters! The camera lights are blinding me.”
“Power through. It’ll be over soon. Remember to keep smiling.”
With Chen Fusheng’s reminders, though the three attracted plenty of curious stares for their Asian features, they were composed compared to the other participants. Nothing embarrassing happened.
After the red carpet ceremony, representatives of the organizing committee and jury members came out to make an appearance. They introduced the illustrious history of the Venice International Film Festival and emphasized its principles of fairness, impartiality, and transparency.
The afternoon was for watching films. The opening film selected was Walking with Grace, a comedy produced by Warner Bros. in the United States. It told the absurd story of three septuagenarian men who, fed up with America’s lack of social security for the elderly, planned a heist on a Manhattan bank, only to walk away with a mere thirty thousand dollars.
Chen Fusheng was watching it for the first time and found it decent, full of laughs. It reminded him of A Cool Fish from his past life, which also used absurd plots to sketch the joys and sorrows of ordinary people.
Strictly speaking, the Cowherd he was working on fell into the same genre, just without as many commercial elements.
That evening, as Chen Fusheng and the others were having dinner, Zhang Fei brought news that stunned everyone.
“Hey, my friends, remember that movie we watched this afternoon?”
“The one about the three old guys robbing a bank?”
“That’s the one, the damn movie. Chen, you nailed it.”
“Zhang Fei, what about this movie? And where were you all afternoon? We couldn’t find you.”
“Sorry, I went to the secondary market to ask about the rights deals for this movie. Chen, guess how much they sold the rights for. You’ll never guess.”
“How much?” China Film Group rep Wang Tao, who had been listening to their exchange, was extremely curious and couldn’t help asking.
“You guess first.” Zhang Fei deliberately dragged it out.
Chen Fusheng wasn’t a fan of guessing games, but Wang Tao boldly threw out a number: “One million dollars?”
“My God, Wang, you don’t have enough nerve. Not one million. Ten million dollars! And that’s only for the rights outside North America… Shit, these guys make money way too easily. If I had that much in my life, I’d retire on the spot.”
The moment they heard that Walking with Grace had sold for ten million dollars, everyone at the table turned to stone. No one heard Zhang Fei’s subsequent muttering.
Yes, even Chen Fusheng was shaken by the number. But once he calmed down, it seemed perfectly reasonable.
Even if the film itself wasn’t worth ten million, once stamped as a production from a Hollywood giant, the price tag became understandable.
After all, Hollywood films dominated the vast majority of English-speaking countries around the world with terrifying force.
A little while later, Deputy Director Shi also recovered and said with equal parts envy and wistfulness: “Ten million dollars. Our country’s total foreign exchange reserves last year were only 84 million dollars. Sigh, if only our films could sell for that kind of money.”
China Film Group handled film imports and exports, so Wang Tao knew better than anyone what Chinese films fetched internationally: next to nothing. No, worse than next to nothing. Even at fire-sale prices, buyers were picky. Hearing Deputy Director Shi’s sigh, Wang Tao shrank like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, saying not a word.
Han Sanping clenched his fist. It felt as though a seed had been planted in his heart.
Siqin Gaowa and the rest of the team, just recovering from shock, suddenly found the food no longer appetizing.
The air fell into a brief, heavy silence.
Then Chen Fusheng spoke up: “What if we also apply to the committee to hold a screening of Cowherd?”
“Fusheng, do you mean we should sell the rights like Walking with Grace did?” Just imagining it made Han Sanping’s breathing quicken.
Everyone else, Deputy Director Shi included, had a light in their eyes to varying degrees. Only Wang Tao piped up: “Doesn’t that violate the rules?”
“How does it violate the rules? Aren’t you from China Film Group? What did they send you out here for?” Chen Fusheng clashed with him once again.
Wang Tao wanted to fire back, but Deputy Director Shi intervened.
“Comrade Fusheng, do you think we can sell our film’s rights?”
“We can definitely sell them. But for how much, that’s hard to say.”
Chen Fusheng continued: “That’s exactly why I’m suggesting we hold a screening. Invite more distributors to watch the film. If any of them are interested after seeing it, they’ll give us an offer, and we can decide from there.”
Seeing the logic in Chen Fusheng’s reasoning, Deputy Director Shi waved his hand decisively: “Then let’s do it your way.”
