novellhall Could there be a plot twist in Chapter 51?
Could there be a plot twist in Chapter 51?
After Wang Jing left Fulimen Restaurant, Fan Binbin put down her chopsticks and gave Lin Dong a sweet smile.
"Thank you for the opportunity, boss."
She was well aware of the significance of this opportunity.
Being on par with Liu Jialing as one of the two leading ladies is not something every newcomer who has just signed with the company can get.
If she relied on herself, how many years would it take her to go from a maid to the second female lead and then to one of the two female leads, and how many smiles would she have to put on? Nobody can say for sure.
Now we've taken that leap.
"It's good that you understand I gave you this opportunity." Lin Dong picked up his teacup. "Perform well. Don't let Liu Jialing put too much pressure on you; that's the best way to repay me."
"Don't worry, boss, I'll definitely perform well. I won't let you down." Fan Binbin said, then stood up. "Shall I head back now? I need to prepare for my acting class tomorrow."
She was very sensible and knew that at this point, she should obediently leave.
Lin Dong nodded.
Fan Binbin bowed, turned around and left with light steps, her ponytail swaying behind her shoulder twice.
Back at Tengda, Lin Dong had just sat down in his office when Li Jiaxin pushed the door open and came in.
She went to the set of "Love Dream" for a makeup test today. She still had light foundation on her face, and her hair was up, revealing her entire neck.
"Ah Dong, Huang Baiming wants you to go and take a look tomorrow. He said he has a few designs he wants you to see."
"I'm not going." Lin Dong leaned back in his chair. "Let him decide."
"I knew you wouldn't go." Li Jiaxin walked around the desk and tugged at his arm. "Then come on—I know Wang Jing's rough shears have arrived. Come with me to take a look."
Lin Dong was interested.
He stood up and asked Zhang Baizhi to call Chen Xinjian. He glanced at Wu Yanzu, who was standing at the door greeting Li Jiaxin, thought for a moment, and then waved to him.
"You come too."
Wu Yanzu paused for a moment, then nodded and followed.
The screening room was small, with two rows of sofas and a screen.
Chen Xinjian sat to Lin Dong's right, his notebook open on his lap. Li Jiaxin sat down next to Lin Dong.
Zhang Baizhi sat in the back row, while Wu Yanzu sat on the far side, his back ramrod straight.
The lights went out.
Wang Jing's rough cut is a full 160 minutes long. It filmed from the morning light on the Bund in Shanghai to the late night in the casinos of Macau.
On screen, Li Jiaxin changed into no fewer than thirty outfits: cheongsams, Western-style dresses, evening gowns, and business suits. Each outfit accentuated her waistline, and she seemed like a completely different person with each change. But her eyes remained cold—cold and clear-headed, cold and resolute.
The story is not complicated.
Bo Bing, the daughter of a wealthy businessman in Shanghai, lost her mother at a young age and her father remarried. She flew from Shanghai to Hong Kong, then to Tokyo, and finally to Macau, not to find a man, but to reclaim the inheritance her mother left behind in these four places.
Every city presented a challenge, and every checkpoint was blocked by men. She crossed them one by one with composure.
Andy Lau plays Wah Dee, a small-time hoodlum from Temple Street who accidentally gets caught up in her scheme. She saves him twice and helps him three times. In the end, he gets tricked in a casino in Macau. It is Bo Bing who walks into the VIP room in an evening gown, bets all her money on the gambling table, and gets him out.
The final scene.
As dusk fell over Victoria Harbour, Wah-dee stood on the footbridge, watching the convoy of cars drive by below, its surface thin with ice. She sat in the back seat, the window half-open, a slight smile playing on her lips.
That smile wasn't for him—it was for everything she had won back for herself.
The camera zooms out, showing the traffic merging into the lights of Central, and the subtitles begin.
When the lights came on, the screening room was quiet for about three seconds.
Lin Dong leaned back on the sofa, two thoughts swirling in his mind.
My first thought: Fatty Wang really knows how to photograph women. Every frame of his camera, when it's focused on Li Jiaxin, looks like he's writing her a love letter.
The subversion of tropes is also brilliantly executed—it's not a domineering CEO falling in love with Cinderella, but rather Her Majesty the Queen reaching out to rescue her little wolf.
As the second thought popped into his head, his fingers paused on the armrest. This film—could it make money?
Based on box office revenue in Hong Kong alone, the investment of 3000 million will definitely not be recouped.
But what if we sell to mainland China? Or to Japan and South Korea?
A female-centric drama that defies conventions, featuring urban business battles and international filming, with every frame of costumes, makeup, and props screaming "I'm expensive"—would young female viewers not like this kind of marketing?
He turned to look at Chen Xinjian. "What do you think?"
Chan Yan-kin turned to a blank page in his notebook, his pen lingering on the paper for a moment. "Mr. Lam, to be frank—Andy Lau might lose some of his fans."
In this film, he's not a traditional heroic male lead; instead, he's constantly being dominated by the female lead. Audiences who went to the theater because of Andy Lau's name will probably be confused after the movie ends.
"But," he changed the subject, "on the other hand, young female viewers—especially white-collar workers in office buildings—should really love this kind of thing."
A story set in both Shanghai and Hong Kong, featuring business battles and romance, with the female lead making all key decisions—this genre has virtually no competitors in the current Hong Kong market.
"What about overseas?"
"We can take a gamble on Japan and South Korea. Those scenes in Ginza, Tokyo, were filmed in locations from that area, so Japanese audiences can relate to them. South Korea's acceptance of Hong Kong romance films has been rising in the last two years. As for mainland China—"
He paused for a moment. "I'm not too optimistic. The market there is currently less accepting of the concept of 'female leadership'."
However, if the Beijing Film Studio can provide assistance and make some strategic adjustments to the theater scheduling, it's not entirely impossible.
Li Jiaxin listened from the side, her chin slightly raised.
A well-made movie with high box office returns benefits more than just the investors. Her commercial value as the leading lady will jump to a new level.
"Alright." Lin Dong stood up and gestured with his chin toward Chen Xinjian. "Once the final cut is released, contact the Japanese and Korean distributors. Arrange test screenings, the sooner the better."
"clear."
Lin Dong walked out.
If there's no loss, there's no loss; the profits will flow into the system's special funds, becoming even more funds awaiting loss.
In the long run, it's more profitable.
Lin Dong went out, and Chen Xinjian immediately followed. Wu Yanzu stood up and looked at Li Jiaxin, waiting for her to go first, but he didn't see her make a move.
"Not bad, right? It cost 3000 million." Li Jiaxin smiled faintly, her face beaming with undisguised pride.
Zhang Baizhi remained silent, sitting quietly. The jealousy in her eyes was almost overflowing, but she knew there was nothing she could do right now.
Even though she is younger than Li Jiaxin, her position in Lin Dong's heart is much weaker than Li Jiaxin's.
Li Jiaxin pursed her lips and went out. Wu Yanzu shrank his neck and quickly followed, his heart pounding with fear.
He shouldn't get caught up in the battle between the boss's two women as soon as he joins the company, but it seems he's naturally inclined to side with Li Jiaxin.
"Just you wait tonight!" Zhang Baizhi's lips moved.