Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]

While surfing online, Sheng Quan came across the trending topic "#IronBloodBossProductionTeamBuysOutScreeningsForCultivator." It was clearly a purchased hashtag, but the effect was excellent.

Among the currently released films, "Cultivator" and "Iron Blood Boss" had the highest buzz. Although "Cultivator" was far ahead in popularity, "Iron Blood Boss," with its all-star cast, also enjoyed decent box office numbers and discussions.

What surprised everyone was that despite the obvious rivalry between the two films, the team behind "Iron Blood Boss," which was being overshadowed by "Cultivator," openly praised their competitor.

In an interview video, a representative from Bluebird Film and Television Culture Media, the production company behind "Iron Blood Boss," smiled and responded:

"This was a direct order from our chairwoman. She was on a business trip abroad when she saw that 'Cultivator' had been released, so she went to watch it. After finishing the movie, she immediately called back and said it was amazing. She even asked why we hadn’t produced something like this."

"Yes, the money for the screenings came from the chairwoman’s personal funds. She said everyone should watch it carefully and strive to make films as outstanding as 'Cultivator' in the future."

"Absolutely, I watched it too—it was so good I didn’t want to leave the theater. Competition? Well, yes, we’re both in the Lunar New Year slot. Do we feel unlucky to be up against such a well-made film? No, not at all. Instead of bad luck, we see it as a blessing. Its success pushes us to create better works and stay humble and cautious."

Xu Man and Lin Aike sat beside Sheng Quan and listened to the entire interview.

Lin Aike, who had seen plenty of cutthroat competition in the film industry, immediately wondered: "Are they setting us up for a fall?"

"No, they’re adjusting their future strategy."

Sheng Quan opened Feixin and sent a message to Gu Zhao:

[Check the trending topic. You can cancel the contingency plan for potential malicious competition from Bluebird.]

Two minutes later, Gu Zhao replied: [Understood. I’ll have the entertainment marketing department coordinate with Bluebird’s promotional efforts.]

Given how explosively popular "Cultivator" was, dominating the box office and overshadowing all other films during the holiday season, Sheng Quan and her team weren’t naive enough to assume competitors would just accept being eclipsed.

Malicious competition was nothing new in the entertainment industry, so they had prepared countermeasures.

But Bluebird’s decision to step back took Starry Light by surprise.

Now that Bluebird had made their stance clear, those defensive plans could be shelved for the time being.

After explaining this, Lin Aike finally understood:

"So, by praising 'Cultivator' like this, they’re trying not to make an enemy out of us?"

"That’s part of it, but the bigger reason is marketing strategy."

Even though Sheng Quan was busy learning new things, her expertise in this field allowed her to see right through it:

"Just look at the comments. Bluebird lost gracefully, showing a willingness to learn and improve. Plus, their film still has decent buzz, so this move will attract goodwill from neutral audiences and even some of our viewers, who might now buy tickets for their movie too."

She gestured for Lin Aike to check the reactions under the hashtag:

[LMAO, "Cultivator" is so good even the rival company’s chairwoman got hooked!]

[So jealous of Bluebird’s employees—why can’t I get free tickets like this?!]

[The chairwoman just gained a fan! Keep it up, looking forward to your future films!]

[Honestly, "Iron Blood Boss" isn’t bad either. It’s not your fault "Cultivator" is just too good.]

[The chairwoman is adorable hahaha. "Iron Blood Boss" is still solid—I’m watching it tonight with my coworkers!]

[YES! "Cultivator" is THAT good! Everyone go watch it! (P.S. "Iron Blood Boss" is decent too, chairwoman, don’t lose heart!)]

Sheng Quan waved her phone and grinned. "Guess how many of these comments are from paid accounts?"

"It’s like a moderately popular celebrity openly declaring they’re a fan of a superstar. If you humble yourself and shower them with praise, the superstar’s real fans will naturally warm up to you."

Lin Aike nodded. "Should we do something about it?"

"Why bother?" Sheng Quan shrugged. "We’re not losing anything. They’re spending money to boost our box office and singing our praises to the skies. If they want to piggyback on our hype, let them."

Xu Man sipped her milk tea while scrolling through comments.

"True. 'Cultivator’s' buzz was starting to dip, but Bluebird’s stunt gave it a second wind."

No matter how great a movie is, hype naturally ebbs and flows—people can’t talk about the same thing forever.

So if a topic stays trending, it’s either because new developments keep drawing attention, or someone’s actively fueling it.

Having someone else pour money and effort into reviving "Cultivator’s" hype? Sheng Quan was all for it.

Others in the industry were surprised by Xie Wanzhao’s approach, but they could still rationalize it.

After all, Sheng Quan was known for her grand gestures, and Gu Zhao had a reputation for being ruthless—even willing to stab his own invested companies in the back. If Bluebird picked a fight, who knew who’d come out on top?

But Sheng Quan saw it differently.

In the original story, "Cultivator" had also dominated the Lunar New Year box office.

The book never mentioned "Iron Blood Boss," but based on her knowledge, Bluebird had spent a year and a half preparing this film—meaning it had also been crushed by "Cultivator" in the original timeline.

Back then, however, "Cultivator" didn’t have a heavyweight backer like Sheng Quan, so its growth was limited. If rival films had tried dirty tricks, "Cultivator" wouldn’t have been able to fight back.

Yet it still sailed smoothly through the holiday season, raking in profits and even making waves overseas.

Whether "Cultivator" had a powerful supporter or not, Xie Wanzhao had made the same choice.

When a reporter asked Sheng Quan, "How would you describe Xie Wanzhao, the chairwoman of Bluebird Film and Television?"

Sheng Quan looked straight into the camera and answered earnestly:

"She’s someone I deeply admire. Yes, admire."

At Bluebird’s headquarters, Xie Wanzhao sat behind her desk, watching the interview replay on her computer. Slowly, she smiled.

That night, when she received another call urging her to reconsider, her resolve remained unshaken:

"Enough. My decision is final. Bluebird is heading in a new direction. Stick with me—it’s time for this industry to change."

"Why? Well… maybe because I’ve grown fond of a certain young woman. I’d like her to keep admiring me."

Thanks to "Iron Blood Boss’s" relentless promotion, "Cultivator’s" popularity surged again.

The ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‍cast of "Cultivator" was thrilled.

Bluebird’s praise was all-encompassing—they even extended audition invitations to several actors from "Cultivator."

The reason given was: "The acting in The Cultivator was truly exceptional, so when we needed actors, our first thought was to invite them."

For the online spectators, this development might seem like a whirlwind of excitement.

But for the previously unknown actors before The Cultivator's release, it was an enormous and unexpected surprise.

The Cultivator was a rare film where every character shone, even those with just one or two scenes managed to captivate the audience.

As a result, nearly every actor who appeared in the film—no matter how minor their role—saw their careers skyrocket after its release.

And since most of the actors in The Cultivator were relatively unknown beforehand, this rise to fame was even more striking.

Take Shen Lv, for example. Before The Cultivator, she was stuck in that awkward phase of being almost-but-not-quite famous. Scripts always chose her, not the other way around. To land roles, she had to fight for every opportunity, no matter how small.

But securing substantial or likable roles was incredibly difficult. Even if she managed to get one, there was always the risk of being replaced before filming began.

A big-budget production like The Cultivator was something Shen Lv never dared to dream of. It wasn’t even an audition arranged by her agency—she took the initiative herself, submitting her resume on a whim.

Send the application, receive the callback, attend the audition.

Then, as if in a dream, three days later, she got the news: she’d landed the role.

Shen Lv was overjoyed—and terrified—before filming began. She’d wake up in the middle of the night, grabbing her phone to check for notifications, afraid that, like past opportunities, she’d be replaced at the last minute.

But in the end, she made it onto the set without a hitch.

Once filming started, Director Xu Man was strict. A single imperfect shot could mean retakes a dozen times over. There were nights when the entire crew stayed awake just to capture the perfect sunrise.

It was grueling work, but the overwhelming satisfaction of being praised as exemplary made all the exhaustion worth it.

During a talk show, Shen Lv’s eyes welled up as she recounted:

"That day, right after my scene, Chairman Sheng Quan came to watch. She sat next to Director Xu, and when I finished, they both looked up at me. Chairman Sheng—imitating her tone—said:

‘Xiao Lv, that was incredible. You moved Director Xu to tears. Our company has a new project—go audition for the lead. I think you can do it.’"

Shen Lv had never played a lead role before—anyone who knew her career knew that.

The host couldn’t hide their envy: "You must have acted phenomenally to move them like that. Did you end up going?"

Shen Lv nodded, wiping away tears: "I went. And I got the role that same day. I just—"

She laughed through her emotions. "It felt like a dream. My first lead role, just like that. I’ll always be grateful to The Cultivator for giving me this chance. I’ll never forget the way Chairman Sheng and Director Xu looked at me when they praised me."

After the episode aired, Shen Lv’s fans—old and new—were both heartbroken for her past struggles and deeply touched by Sheng Quan’s support.

[She’s a true mentor.]

[Jiang Zhen also said Chairman Sheng discovered him—he was planning to be a martial arts instructor forever.]

[A face like his, wasted as an instructor?? Thank you, Chairman Sheng!]

[Sheng Quan has an eye for talent. I usually resent the wealthy, but I can’t hate her—every gorgeous actor she’s discovered is exactly my type!]

[My heart aches for Lv Lv, but congrats—you’ve finally been seen!]

Several other cast members joined Shen Lv on the show, all expressing how honored they were to be part of The Cultivator.

But the most active fanbase in the comments belonged to Jiang Zhen’s supporters.

Sheng Quan’s prediction had been right: Jiang Zhen was the rare type of mature, magnetic actor who could skyrocket to fame with just one opportunity.

While fresh-faced idols had their charm, Jiang Zhen’s rugged, capable aura—exuding both security and raw charisma—drew fans in instantly.

As his fans put it: "How does he make every move, every glance, so heart-stoppingly captivating?"

Even before The Cultivator hit streaming platforms, fans were obsessively clipping Jiang Zhen’s talk show moments.

The hottest edit? A video titled: [Jiang Zhen, You’re Killing Me!!!]

It zoomed in on his face, slowed down the footage, and set it to a dramatic soundtrack.

The screen flooded with comments, especially during the moment when Jiang Zhen—mid-sentence—suddenly smiled, as if recalling something sweet. He tried to hide it behind his hand, but the warmth in his dark eyes was unmistakable.

Fans lost their minds.

The comments were either lengthy odes to his beauty or keyboard-smashing screams.

[AHHHHH JIANG ZHEN JIANG ZHEN JIANG ZHEN!!!]

[TOO CHARMING OH MY GOD]

[I FELL IN LOVE WITH HIM!]

[How does his rugged face pull off such a devoted-husband vibe??]

[This was when he talked about Chairman Sheng taking him for a check-up—he couldn’t stop smiling! The host asked why he always grins when mentioning his boss, so next time he tried to hide it… but you can’t hide those eyes, Zhen-ge!!!]

[The hand-covering just made it hotter (can I say that?)]

[Damn, this wild man is pure alpha energy!]

[COOL!!!]

[LMAO Jin Jiu slouched through every topic until the host brought up Sheng Quan—then he sat up straight, eyes sparkling, jumping into the conversation. So adorable!]

[HOOOOOT!!!]

[Why so many foreign comments? Is this a new fandom trend?]

[Those are Zhen-ge’s international fans! The Cultivator is huge overseas—he’s making our country proud hahaha.]

Sheng Quan stumbled upon this video too.

Since The Cultivator’s release, it had been a golden age for aesthetics enthusiasts, and she’d spent days indulging in fan edits.

The [Jiang Zhen, You’re Killing Me!!!] clip? She liked, favorited, and rewatched it multiple times.

After another viewing, she left a comment: [AHHH SO CHARMING SO WILD!! LOVE IT LOVE IT!]

Then, unable to resist, she hit play again.

As she was engrossed in watching, a knock came at the office door. Her eyes still fixed on the video, she called out, "Come in."

Jiang Zhen pushed the door open and stepped inside. Hearing the background music, he paused momentarily, uncertain as he approached, "You wanted to see me?"

Walking closer, he realized Sheng Quan was indeed watching a video of his appearance on a show, expertly edited into a compilation.

Outwardly, Jiang Zhen remained composed, but his face instantly grew several degrees warmer.

Sheng Quan, however, was perfectly at ease as she waved her phone lightly.

"You should appear on more shows. You’re even more captivating in person than on screen. I’ll have your agent arrange it—refinement really does show through."

The direct praise made Jiang Zhen’s face burn even hotter.

During the filming of The Cultivator, Sheng Quan would often drop by the set whenever she had time. As they grew more familiar, he noticed how much she enjoyed browsing popular apps among young people.

He had seen her watching compilations of Jin Jiu, Yan Hui, and even a low-resolution clip of Gu Zhao making an appearance—all of which she found utterly entertaining.

Back then, Jiang Zhen had secretly harbored the ambitious thought that one day, Sheng Quan would inevitably come across a video of him too.

Jiang Zhen wasn’t particularly active on those platforms, but human nature craves attention.

When he saw his fans mentioning this video on Weibo, he couldn’t resist—he downloaded the app just to watch it.

At the time, he’d thought his fans were quite skilled at editing. But now…

Remembering how the video had slowed down his otherwise ordinary movements, turning them into something far more suggestive, Jiang Zhen’s ears flushed crimson in seconds.

The tall man tried his best to maintain an indifferent expression, though his voice came out slightly hoarse.

"As long as you’re satisfied with my performance."

Of course, Sheng Quan was satisfied.

Jiang Zhen was currently the one contributing the most to her career metrics.

Just one film—The Cultivator—had skyrocketed his career progress to 55%.

To put it in perspective, even Yan Hui and Jin Jiu hadn’t broken 50 yet.

While The Cultivator’s massive success played a part, Jiang Zhen himself was undeniably magnetic.

From what Sheng Quan had gathered, among the film’s cast, Jiang Zhen had attracted the most international fans—by a landslide.

This was partly due to cultural preferences. Overseas audiences tended to favor Jiang Zhen’s style more than domestic ones, though lately, even fans who usually gravitated toward pretty-faced idols were starting to lean toward his type.

Sheng Quan understood perfectly—after all, she was no different.

And unlike those fans, she had the privilege of openly admiring Jiang Zhen whenever she pleased.

Sometimes, when work or studies wore her out, she’d head to the company gym, where a group of attractive actors and actresses would be working out—Jiang Zhen, now signed to the company, was naturally among them.

Occasionally, when he noticed Sheng Quan "passing by," he’d wipe the sweat from his brow and flash her a smile.

Sheng Quan: Being the boss is the best.

But as much as she enjoyed eye candy, business still came first.

Soon, the crew would be attending the Golden Woods Award ceremony.

Sheng Quan didn’t have to go, but in this world, the Golden Woods Award carried immense prestige.

Most importantly, this was the first time in five years that a Chinese film had been nominated for such an internationally renowned award—and from the looks of it, the odds of winning were high.

Leaning back in her chair, she shifted to the matter at hand.

"I called you in because you’ll be attending the Golden Woods Award too. We’ll go get your formalwear fitted later."

"Given how prestigious the Golden Woods is, are you nervous?"

Jiang Zhen met Sheng Quan’s gaze, watching the girl smile at him in the sunlight. The sharpness in his eyes softened, a faint warmth seeping into his expression.

His answer was firm.

"No."

"Because we’re going to win."

Sheng Quan’s smile widened. "That’s right. We will win."

A month later, the Golden Woods Award—a globally revered institution in the film industry—announced its winning film:

—The Cultivator, from China.

The news sent shockwaves across the nation.