Once the boss was convinced, the rest of the work became much easier.

Once Ji Juntao made up his mind, he was as efficient as ever. Ignoring the fact that it was already night, he took a step and walked in one direction.

"What are you doing?" Shang Yechu's eyebrows twitched when she saw that Ji Juntao was heading in the wrong direction.

"Let's go to your study and use your computer," Ji Juntao said as he walked, "to arrange our troops."

Shang Yechu quickly grabbed Ji Juntao, "My computer isn't in the study, it's in my room. Come with me."

Fortunately, I had anticipated this and moved my laptop to the bedroom.

"Okay." Ji Juntao strode quickly to the bedroom, turned on Shang Yechu's computer, and said, "Password."

Shang Yechu leaned forward and scanned his face. The computer screen lit up, wiping away the two ambitious faces.

All the company's employees, even those with minor details, were in Ji Juntao's mind; there was no need to consult any documents. Ji Juntao created a mind map, generating a central theme called "Movies."

Ji Juntao rattled off a series of themes, his movements resembling a noodle maker stretching out a string of noodles: "You need money to make any kind of film."

Ji Juntao typed two words: Funds.

Money, money, money is everything. As long as you get the money, ninety percent of the problems with a movie can be solved.

The amount of funding this film needs isn't something Shang Yechu can simply count on his lips. It's determined by the film's expected box office performance. This is the reality of commercial films. Perhaps some people would invest in an art film for the sake of ideals, sentiments, and awards, regardless of its box office performance, but no one would do the same for a commercial film.

According to Shang Yechu's experience, a film's total revenue (theatrical box office revenue + streaming revenue, and sometimes DVD/Blu-ray sales and subsequent merchandise development) must reach three times the production cost to break even, since money paid to theaters, distributors, and promotional expenses must be deducted. Therefore, when determining the production cost of a film, producers will first anchor a projected box office, then divide it by three to deduce the cost required to produce the film—that is, the budget.

The expected box office revenue must be anchored at the lowest point, otherwise it is very likely to result in a complete loss of investment.

Shang Yechu searched for "Mainland China Thriller Box Office Chart" on Bohe Movies, glanced at the list, and fell silent.

"Among the horror films that have been shown in mainland Chinese theaters, the highest-grossing is..."

Shang Yechu hesitated. This outcome could very well damage Ji Juntao's confidence.

"Which one? 'The Mystery of No. 93 Courtyard'?"

"No," Shang Yechu had no choice but to tell the truth, "It's 'Mirror Horror.' It grossed 700 million."

Shang Yechu's words clearly had a bad effect, as Ji Juntao's enthusiastic expression froze.

"Mirror Horror" is an American horror film, whose main content is nothing more than a haunted house and the mirror in the haunted house sucking away souls.

"God!" Ji Juntao exclaimed in a foreign language, "I remember 'Mirror Horror' was released in 2012, right?"

“That’s right.” Shang Yechu didn’t know how to continue, so she chose to state the facts directly. “The second place is ‘The Strange Case of No. 93 Tianjing’, which grossed 400 million yuan in 2015.”

"The Ghost Story of No. 93 Tianjing" is a milestone in Chinese horror films, both in terms of box office success and its sheer atrocity. Shang Yechu's family once bought a pirated DVD of the film, and the whole family laughed hysterically while watching it. This movie pioneered the "erotica + mother-in-law/daughter-in-law conflict + garish bloodstains" formula in Chinese horror films, ending with a grand gunfight. All the characters, human and ghost, are killed by the warlord who appears at the end.

They've all been killed...

All fear stems from insufficient firepower.

One second she was calculating how much box office budget to allocate, and the next second, cruel reality dealt Shang Yechu a heavy blow.

"The third highest-grossing film is 'The Strange Case of No. 94 Tianjing,' which grossed over 300 million." Shang Yechu felt a headache coming on. "Is this film ever going to end? They've already made 'The Strange Case of No. 96 Tianjing'! It's going to be released this year!"

One-third of the top-grossing horror films in mainland China are "The Strange Case of No. 9x in the Courtyard"!

Ji Juntao leaned over to take a look and said to Shang Yechu, "Fortunately, No. 95 has already dropped to 100 million, and No. 96 will probably drop below 100 million soon."

Of the top 15 films at the box office, only nine grossed over 100 million yuan. Six of them were foreign films, and the remaining three were the "Tales of No. 9x in the Courtyard" series.

Surprisingly, it was the emperor in this series of terrible movies who upheld the last vestige of dignity for domestic horror films...

Shang Yechu's confidence began to crumble.

Is there any need to film it?

Look at this box office chart that's almost been shaved bald. What makes her think that something adapted from Sheng Wenzhi's novel can suddenly stand out and take the top spot?

Perhaps Chinese people simply don't like horror movies, or maybe they find them unlucky... This thought flashed through Shang Yechu's mind. Although she knew it was just the escapist thinking typical of incompetent artists, the idea still lingered in her mind.

Globally, countless horror films have grossed hundreds of millions of dollars. We're all human; if they succeed and you don't, whose fault is it?

“Well,” Ji Juntao frowned, “the fifteenth-ranked box office in mainland China has 60 million in revenue. Let’s use that as our standard.”

"Old Ji?" A sense of surprise welled up inside Shang Yechu, and she opened her mouth, "Even in this state, you still want to film?"

It wasn't that Shang Yechu had given up hope, but rather that, given Ji Juntao's personality, it was highly unlikely that he would engage in a business with a 90% loss rate.

This goes against Ji Juntao's principles. Shang Yechu couldn't help but think, she didn't know anything about supernatural rules or anything like that...

"What do you mean 'it's already like this'!" Ji Juntao exclaimed excitedly. "As long as you get 100 million in box office revenue, you'll become the rising star of the domestic horror film market! 100 million in box office revenue! In any other genre, you wouldn't even have time to be criticized and ridiculed! You'll never encounter a commercial film with such low standards of self-preservation again!"

As long as there's... 100 million... in box office revenue...

Listening to Ji Juntao's enthusiastic tone, Shang Yechu almost thought that a box office of 100 million was a very low threshold.

“While I admire your optimism,” Shang Yechu reminded him, “even a masterpiece of psychological horror like ‘Close Your Eyes Before Dawn’ only grossed a mere 60 million.”

"You think 'The Rules General Store' is inferior to 'Close Your Eyes Before Dawn'?"

Shang Yechu was startled and subconsciously looked next door. If Sheng Wenzhi, that petty person, heard this, he would be finished; he probably would never cooperate with Ji Juntao again in his next life.

"The film 'Close Your Eyes Before Dawn' was directed by Zhan Kexiang, that's Zhan Kexiang!" Shang Yechu lowered her voice, "How many Zhan Kexiangs are there in China?"

"Since you know that it was taken by Zhan Kexiang, you should know its year."

Shang Yechu paused for two seconds, then thought, "Wait a minute—'Close Your Eyes Before Dawn' is a film from ten years ago!"

How valuable was a box office of 60 million ten years ago?

“That’s not how you do it.” Ji Juntao’s eyes darted around like abacus beads. “In terms of novelty and horror, ‘Rules General Store’ should at least be a slightly downgraded version of ‘Close Your Eyes Before Dawn,’ and if it’s released after ‘Halfway Through the Day’ finishes airing…”

A clever plan.

Shang Yechu thought about it several times, but still couldn't believe that Ji Juntao was so confident: "These are your true feelings, not just something to fool me?"

“It’s not meant to scare you,” Ji Juntao said, pulling several sub-topics under the main theme of “funding,” “it’s meant to appease investors.”

It turned out to be all empty promises. Ji Juntao's familiar feeling was back. Shang Yechu was relieved.

“Our company will invest a portion, and we can still raise the remaining ten million yuan in investment. Leave this to me.”

Shang Yechu sneered: "Going to see our mother again?"

"This time it's not Mom. It's a few of Mom's old friends... and a few old friends I've built up over the years." Ji Juntao steered the conversation back on track, "Connections, connections, you raise an army for a thousand days to use it for one. Luckily, Zhuang Sheng and the others aren't a money pit."