"Here you go." Shang Yechu handed the printed manuscript to Gu Wenhua.
After strolling home from the shopping street, Sheng Wenzhi began writing the short piece that Shang Yechu had requested. This time, he wrote extremely quickly, a remarkable speed compared to the procrastination of the previous months.
Shang Yechu once again became the first person to submit a manuscript to Sheng Wenzhi.
In fact, Sheng Wenzhi had repeatedly expressed his desire to meet with Gu Wenhua, and as a director, Gu Wenhua also needed to communicate with the screenwriter. However, Shang Yechu had been making various excuses to delay their meeting, so the two had not yet met.
Shang Yechu had a hunch that arranging a meeting between Gu Wenhua and Sheng Wenzhi might lead to some unpleasant events.
Gu Wenhua flipped through a few pages, a satisfied look on his face: "This one is much better than the last two."
“Of course, this is what the original author wrote.” Shang Yechu tapped the paper. “It’s already the limit that I could persuade him to write it like this. The rest is up to you.”
The screenwriter's unwillingness to revise the script couldn't be kept from the director. Shang Yechu had already confided in Gu Wenhua, even about hiring a ghostwriter.
This wasn't uncommon in the industry, and Gu Wenhua, though just a small-time director, wasn't particularly surprised. However, he was quite astonished that the mysterious original author of "Heart Ghost" had suddenly picked up his pen to add more plot details.
"Wow," Gu Wenhua exclaimed, "The 'first wife's' methods are truly different. You convinced him?"
I guess so.
I need to talk to Gu Wenhua beforehand. He and Sheng Wenzhi will meet sooner or later, so I don't want to give myself away.
As an ordinary person, knowing that Gu Wenhua was her secret admirer, Shang Yechu still wanted to maintain some semblance of humanity in front of him. However, as a collaborator, Shang Yechu knew she had to inform Gu Wenhua of everything, down to the smallest detail, related to the script, in order to facilitate their collusion and lies. Otherwise, a miscommunication might lead Gu Wenhua to let slip something, causing Sheng Wenzhi's supposedly explosive reaction to occur prematurely.
The collaborator's self-awareness easily outweighed the vanity in front of the admirers, and Shang Yechu had already thought of her words in less than three seconds.
"It's less about persuading and more about deceiving," Shang Yechu snapped her fingers. "That's why I came to see you today. We need to discuss this."
Shang Yechu briefly explained Sheng Wenzhi's temperament and his stubbornness in refusing to change the script to Gu Wenhua. However, it was difficult to explain why Sheng Wenzhi sold the book to Qingping Entertainment. Shang Yechu vaguely summarized it as, "I had some friendship with him in junior high school, and I provided him with the inspiration for this novel," thus covering up the past.
After saying all that, Shang Yechu also recounted how she had managed to deceive Sheng Wenzhi using her own story.
“So,” Shang Yechu tapped her phone screen and sent the prepared document to Gu Wenhua, “if Sheng Wenzhi asks you to discuss the plot, remember to follow this version.”
While Shang Yechu was speaking, Gu Wenhua's eyes were fixed on her without blinking. He only came back to his senses when Shang Yechu stopped talking.
"What's wrong?" Shang Yechu asked, casting a probing glance at him.
"I just feel like you're a little different than before," Gu Wenhua said hesitantly.
Shang Yechuxin said that the way you revised Sheng Wenzhi's script was very different from how you were when you were diligently filming "The Mute Woman".
"You have to grow up eventually in this place," Shang Yechu said casually. "But Xiao Gu, did you understand what I meant?"
Although Shang Yechu knew that Gu Wenhua was not as taciturn and dull as he appeared, this matter was of great importance, and he still needed to confirm it.
"Hmm." Gu Wenhua nodded. "But what if they watch and film?"
This was also a concern for Shang Yechu: "He's not very interested in filming. He probably won't come too often. If he does come... I'll distract him. If I can't distract him, you can tell the crew to take a break. Besides, before post-production special effects are done, the actual film and the novel's plot are basically two different things, he won't be able to tell the difference."
For example, the novel describes the protagonist looking out the window and seeing a strange face. In reality, the protagonist could only stare blankly at the camera; the window and the face had to be added in post-production. Even if Sheng Wenzhi racked his brains, he couldn't connect this action with the plot in the book.
Gu Wenhua was still worried: "Even if we keep it a secret until filming is finished, he'll still find out after the movie is released. What if he... speaks out then? Won't that affect public opinion about the movie?"
Negative public opinion, if not properly controlled, can be fatal to a film.
This time, it was Shang Yechu's turn to remain silent.
Just as Gu Wenhua thought Shang Yechu was also worried about this matter, he suddenly heard a sneer.
Where Gu Wenhua's gaze fell, Shang Yechu raised her eyes, a smile on her face a mixture of cruelty and helplessness.
"When will the issue of screenwriters protecting their rights finally gain traction in our area?"
"..."
Gu Wenhua took a soft breath.
Anyone working in the film and television industry knows the weight of Shang Yechu's words.
It's no secret that screenwriters in the Chinese entertainment industry have a low social status. Even a renowned screenwriter like Zheng Bohan, with a prolific body of work and decades of experience in the industry, could only leave in anger and start anew when "Qingyun Biography" was drastically altered; he had no other choice. Not to mention the relatively unknown writer "Xin Gui."
Around the summer of 2015, a movie called "Silent Dock" was released and became a huge hit. However, just a few days after its release, a screenwriter named Yang Kui published a long article accusing "Silent Dock" of plagiarizing his original screenplay "The Unburned River".
Screenwriter Yang Kui released a very detailed color palette (a comparison table for identifying plagiarism), comparing the plot of "Silent Wharf" with the script of "Unburned River" point by point, proving that the former plagiarized the latter.
Gu Wenhua was a student at the time and followed the whole thing closely. In his view, "Silent Wharf" was more than just plagiarism; it was a massive copy-paste of "The Unburnt River."
Logically speaking, such a scandal breaking during the film's theatrical run should be fatal to the movie. Gu Wenhua even thought at one point that "Silent Wharf" would be pulled from theaters immediately.
Unfortunately, no.
"Silent Wharf" was still a huge hit, ultimately grossing 1.1 billion yuan and becoming the box office champion of its release period. Moreover, it received a score of over 8 on Greenban—an 8-point rating from hundreds of thousands of users.
This is just one example of screenwriters' rights protection efforts in the entertainment industry. Many more screenwriters don't even get a chance to be seen by Gu Wenhua.
The moment Shang Yechu uttered those words, Gu Wenhua recalled this old incident. There's nothing new under the sun. He just hadn't expected Shang Yechu to be so blunt.
Shang Yechu slowly said, "Qingping Entertainment has shown full sincerity. The contract and signing process are perfectly in compliance with the law. We did not delay the final payment, nor did we plagiarize or piece together anything. What rights do they have to claim or what voices are they making?"
Gu Wenhua's fingertips trembled slightly.
For some reason, even though Shang Yechu was saying such cold sentences, Gu Wenhua felt that Shang Yechu was a little sad.
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