126 Li Daniu bites the dust?

Film has always been one of the most lucrative industries of the new century, with profits comparable to those of the arms trade.

Yet, this field is far from easy to navigate. Countless wealthy investors have been duped by screenwriters or directors into producing a slew of dreadful movies, losing everything in the process.

It’s akin to smuggling arms—a venture where one might even risk their life.

Nevertheless, the undeniable truth remains: as humanity’s standard of living rises and the demand for entertainment grows, the film industry has created countless wealth legends.

There are cinema chains listed on the stock market that can rake in tens of billions of dollars, stars whose paychecks reach twenty million dollars per film, and directors whose box office numbers soar beyond a billion dollars.

According to relevant data, the global box office market in 2012 was estimated to be around thirty-five billion dollars.

Many might think, “Only thirty-five billion dollars? That’s less than the annual profits of the top companies in the Fortune 500.”

But a quick comparison of input versus output reveals why the film industry is likened to the arms trade.

Take, for example, one of the most profitable banks: in 2011, a certain state-owned bank recorded an annual profit of 270 billion yuan, but it absorbed deposits totaling twelve trillion yuan, ranking first in the world for deposit amounts.

What’s the profit ratio there?

Meanwhile, the film industry’s annual investment in production never exceeds ten billion dollars, yet the profit margin can soar to around three hundred percent.

Of course, some might argue that banks pursue low-risk investments, hence their lower profits. And making movies isn’t just about production costs—cinemas themselves should be factored in. With so many theaters worldwide, the investment must be enormous, right?

To that, one can only say: remove the unit “billion” from twelve trillion, and if you gave anyone twelve thousand with the promise of twelve thousand two hundred seventy a year later, they’d jump at the chance, because this kind of business presents no difficulty to anyone.

Moreover, cinema investments aren’t consumed within a year; even with rapid updates, renovations happen every five years at best.

For someone like Li Daniu, who possesses a wealth of excellent film and television resources, such a vast slice of the pie is simply too tempting to pass up.

Therefore, Li Daniu treated his first film with utmost seriousness. It was his key to entering the power supply industry—a stepping stone, even a touchstone, to pave the way for future projects.

The next morning, Li Daniu received the box office statistics from the previous night’s screening.

From 8 p.m. to 2 a.m., all two thousand screens across the United States were showing Li Daniu’s first film. Each screen played the movie three times on average, with an overall attendance rate of 87%, generating a total box office revenue of 4.7 million dollars that evening.

For a Hollywood blockbuster with a budget exceeding a hundred million dollars, such box office results on opening night would be considered satisfactory, though not shocking.

But for a pseudo-documentary style horror film made with a mere two hundred thousand dollars, these figures were nothing short of miraculous—an unprecedented phenomenon.

After reviewing the data, Li Daniu browsed online reviews of the film. Ninety percent of viewers shared their experiences, describing how terrifying the movie was and how they had been kept awake all night by fear.

Fully reassured, Li Daniu received requests from major American cinema chains to increase the number of copies and screenings.

“Approve them!” he ordered.

Was there any reason to refuse? Before the film’s release, no one had doubted it. Even if Li Daniu had struggled to find a distributor, now that theaters were eager to help him make more money, he couldn’t say no.

That very night, the number of screenings soared to ten thousand, with an attendance rate of 81%.

By the third day, thanks to overnight efforts to produce more copies, screenings reached fifteen thousand. Nearly every theater in America had at least two screens continuously showing the film, with attendance holding steady at 79%.

By the end of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, the newly released weekly box office chart saw Li Daniu’s film, “Paranormal Record,” skyrocket onto the list with a staggering 22.7 million dollars.

The Hollywood Daily exclaimed: “The Wolf Has Come.”

The Wall Street Journal’s headline read: “A Film That Could Create an Investment Miracle.”

Meanwhile, Li Daniu’s follower count on EyeBook surged by two million thanks to the film. Beyond those drawn in by the movie itself, netizens from China, fueled by mainstream media coverage, also began following him with keen interest.

His fanbase swelled to 43 million.

In the following week, countries like Canada, the United Kingdom, and France began screening the film.

By the third week’s end, the global box office had reached 160 million dollars. Though attendance rates had started to decline, the film still showed potential to break the 200 million dollar threshold.

Thus, a low-budget horror film, with unstoppable momentum, captured the attention of entertainment media worldwide.

Yet, fame breeds controversy—a timeless truth.

Many envious of the film’s box office performance, or those seeking to stand out amidst the chorus of praise, suddenly surfaced with criticisms, suggesting Li Daniu had made a misstep.

The Hollywood Daily headline read: “He Abandoned His Main Profession for Film.”

“It’s common knowledge that in recent weeks, a film with an astounding box office has dominated media headlines. The reason it garnered so much attention despite grossing less than 200 million dollars is because it’s a horror film—the most successful horror film in history. With an investment of only two hundred thousand dollars, I believe anyone who’s seen it feels they could make such a movie themselves, or even that, compared to the lavish spending of Tuvalu’s king, they could shoot something similar for just a few thousand dollars.”

“The film’s lead actors aren’t even professional performers—ordinary people could easily fill their roles. The camera? No need to buy one; renting suffices. And shooting locations? Who doesn’t have a place to live?”

“In summary, the indulgent King of Tuvalu, who also directed this film, may have significantly lowered the film’s profit ratio. This is a pity, as it might have otherwise set an unbreakable record for movie profits.”

“Besides this shortcoming, King Tarek of Tuvalu—whom we might call Li Daniu, since he adopted a Chinese name, perhaps hoping to gain support from that country or to open doors to China’s vast film and book markets—has another major regret. And I must say, he’s quite business-savvy.”

“The regret I refer to is not his Chinese name, which might affect his work’s sales in the U.S. or other countries (I wonder if Li Daniu will accuse me of racial discrimination for saying that), but rather his latest book’s failure.”

“Comparing his previous book, ‘The Lord of the Rings,’ we’re surprised to see a complete reversal in sales trends. When ‘The Lord of the Rings’ first launched, it went largely unnoticed, only attracting a few bored readers who then became captivated and started buying copies. Word of mouth then caused sales to soar—no, explode.”

“His new book, ‘Harry Potter,’ however, is a different story. It was snapped up by his loyal fans accumulated from ‘The Lord of the Rings,’ shooting straight up the sales charts at launch. But poor reviews caused sales to plummet like a cliff diver, with no recovery in sight.”

“According to relevant data, sales in the U.S. over three weeks didn’t even match the peak global sales of ‘The Lord of the Rings’ in a single day. Clearly, Li Daniu’s new book is poorly written. Readers describe it as a children’s book. Perhaps Li Daniu hoped to tap into children’s spending power, since it’s easier to earn money from them than adults. Unfortunately, so far, few children have persuaded their parents to buy ‘Harry Potter’ for them.”

“We can only express regret for Li Daniu’s book fans. Hollywood has gained a horror film director, but the publishing world has lost a great writer. Hopefully, one day, Li Daniu won’t forget his royal duties while making movies.”

Upon reading this report, brought over by Castro, Li Daniu couldn’t help but feel pleased. Thanks to this eye-catching coverage, he could now openly claim his Chinese name without reservation.

“Boss, I can sue the author of this article, even the newspaper’s owner. This piece not only attacks you personally but insults all eleven thousand citizens of Tuvalu. I could even lodge a formal protest with the U.S. government through diplomatic channels…”

Before Castro finished, Li Daniu interrupted.

“No need to make a fuss. Besides, if we did that, wouldn’t we be playing right into their hands, helping them gain attention? As for protesting—ugh, I really hate that word. I always prefer action over words.”

“So, what do you mean?”

“I mean, of course, I’ll trade insults with them. But what good is protesting? Do you think the U.S. government cares what a small country like ours thinks?”

“But… didn’t you just say… no words?” Castro asked awkwardly.

Li Daniu chuckled, “Yes, but I said when we have the means to act, we won’t waste words. Right now, we can’t act, so we have no choice but to use words.”

“…” Castro wanted to say, "You can't really forget you're a king and start trading insults, can you? What about royal decorum?"

(To be continued.)