CDJMM – Volume 4 – Chapter 19 Filming in the Interstellar Era (19)

Le Jing originally thought An Yun was referring to those art films the original host had made, but unexpectedly, what An Yun meant was Le Jing’s submission to Qijiang Video Net — “The Young Marquis Who Sealed the Wolf at Juxu.”

An Yun said, “Right now, the nation is strongly promoting the revival of traditional culture. Your ‘Young Marquis’ is one of the rare works themed on ancient Earth culture. It aligns perfectly with the current direction and fits the theme of the era. The chances of winning are much higher.”

Although An Yun said that, Le Jing truly never thought he could win anything. Even with An Yun’s help, for a rookie director like him to stand out from among thousands of films and win an award was an extremely difficult task — practically impossible.

In the interstellar era where Huaguo had become the strongest nation in the Earth Alliance, the Starry Sky Awards enjoyed very high prestige not only in Huaguo but worldwide. In terms of status and influence, they were comparable to the Cannes Film Festival, one of the four major film festivals of the 21st century.

There were two ways to enter the Starry Sky Awards: self-submission and recommendation. What An Yun mentioned — recommending Le Jing’s work — was the latter method.

Though nominally every filmmaker had a fair chance, where there are people, there will be factions.

Every year, the number of submitted works reached eight to ten thousand, while the number of judges was limited. For films by unknown directors, judges often only watched the beginning and the end — many were skimmed over. But if a film had a judge’s recommendation, that was different. For works with “someone behind them,” the committee would definitely treat them more seriously — at the very least, they would watch the entire film properly.

However, An Yun’s recommendation only guaranteed that Le Jing’s film would be taken seriously. Whether it could win, and what award it might win, depended on capability, connections, and luck — and sometimes even political factors.

Still, An Yun’s recommendation would at least help Le Jing be remembered by the committee, which would pave the way for future entries.

An Yun sounded regretful. “Actually, those art films you made before were pretty good and suited the taste of many old-timers. It’s just a pity they were filmed too early and don’t meet the Starry Sky Awards’ requirements.”

Le Jing paused, searched through the original host’s memories, and finally understood.

On Earth, one of the hard submission rules of the four major film festivals was that the film must be unreleased. In the interstellar era, the Starry Sky Awards loosened the rule slightly: as long as the work hadn’t been screened in theaters, it could participate. In other words, the creator could upload the film online, but only if it had been online for less than three months.

The original host’s earlier works had long exceeded the time limit, so they couldn’t be submitted.

Le Jing felt somewhat sorry for the original host.

In his opinion, the original host was a very talented young man — simply unlucky and mentally trapped, which led to his suicide. If he had gritted his teeth and persevered, he might’ve lived to see the day everything turned around.

Although those works couldn’t be submitted now, once he became famous, he could rerelease the original host’s films into theaters and let more people appreciate his legacy.

After hanging up, Le Jing finally remembered that “Young Marquis” was currently in the open voting stage on Qijiang Video Net. The deadline… should be this Sunday?

Only the top hundred in votes could advance to the final jury review stage. He glanced at the list last week and remembered being in ninth place — just barely above Liu Yinxiu in tenth.

Since he was sure to advance, he hadn’t bothered checking and instead focused completely on the tight filming schedule.

He wondered how many votes he had now.

When he opened the voting page, he was shocked to find that his film had risen to second place.

First place was held by a StarBlog influencer with tens of millions of fans and had twenty to thirty thousand more votes than him — impossible to catch up. Even so, Le Jing was still stunned by the power of his own fans.

He only had about a million followers, yet he received one and a half million votes. His fans must’ve worked extremely hard.

Thinking for a moment, he posted another StarBlog update to express his thanks:

*[OldScenery: During a break from filming, I checked Qijiang and found that “The Young Marquis Who Sealed the Wolf at Juxu” is now second in votes. Thank you all for your support. Please also look forward to this Saturday at 8 p.m. for the update of “Record of Republican-Era Literary Masters”~]

The moment he refreshed, dozens of comments appeared — but their content made Le Jing both amused and exasperated.

[ColdSnow: I knew it. Only Record of Literary Masters is Old Scenery’s real child. Young Marquis must’ve been a recharge bonus gift.]

[RiceCake: Sir, enough. Stop using Young Marquis to market Record of Literary Masters ←_←]

[BigBraisedPork: Sir, please promote Young Marquis! Look how many trending topics Record of Literary Masters already has! Please don’t play favorites qwq]

[BackPainAfterHiking: Sir, I’m a new fan of Young Marquis. Did Huo Qubing really die?? He’s so young. It must be fake, right? I bet he fell in love with a girl and faked his death to run away with her!]

This lovestruck comment amused Le Jing. It reminded him of a romance novel on Earth where Huo Qubing indeed faked his death, ran away with the heroine, and lived happily ever after. The novel even romanticized the Xiongnu invaders, which was heavily criticized online. The TV adaptation had to turn it into a fictional world because of the original’s historical nihilism.

So he replied seriously:

[Huo Qubing’s heart was vast enough to bear iron horses and frozen rivers, but could not tolerate petty romance. For a young, undefeated war god, laying down arms was more painful than death. After peace was secured, with no wars left to fight, he grew despondent and passed away. If he had lived, he would’ve been on the battlefield — not wandering in romance.]

His break time was short — this was already a rare moment of leisure. After replying, he closed his light-brain device and continued the intense editing work.

Because time was tight, the crew had to shoot and edit simultaneously. Filming during the day, editing at night — everyone was scrambling. Le Jing hadn’t slept more than five hours in ages.

Time flew, and soon it was Saturday.

“Brother Jing!!” Zhang Ting burst into the lounge, shouting excitedly, “Guess how much we’ve raised for the drama so far?!”

Zhang Ting played Li Jingran — a man who existed only in memories — so he didn’t have many scenes. Most of the time, he simply watched veteran actors perform.

Seeing he had free time, Le Jing had handed him the official drama account to manage. The crowdfunding project was also handled by Zhang Ting.

Seeing the boy’s ecstatic expression, Le Jing teased, “One million?”

Zhang Ting choked. “Five hundred thousand.”

Le Jing smirked. “Still not a million?”

Zhang Ting rolled his eyes. “The crowdfunding has only been online for two or three days! Half a million is already amazing!”

Le Jing smiled. “Just teasing. Once we hit one million, I’ll give everyone a raise.”

Zhang Ting’s eyes widened. “Really? You can’t go back on your word!”

“I won’t,” Le Jing said. “You guys will probably get a few raises in the future.”

Zhang Ting’s eyes sparkled. “Looks like you’re really confident in our drama!”

The young man crossed his arms, cool and proud. “I directed it — of course I’m confident.”

“Great! Then I’ll wait to become a star overnight!”

Le Jing remembered something. “Tonight, run a raffle and pick twenty fans to visit the set.”

“And tell post-production to add this week’s thank-you list to the credits.”

Zhang Ting grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it!” Then he puffed up, bragging proudly, “Brother Jing, I even have a fan club now! Over two hundred thousand followers on StarBlog!”

Le Jing replied calmly, “I have a million. Do you see me bragging?”

Zhang Ting froze. “That’s different!” He lifted his chin, proud as a little rooster. “Just watch — someday I’ll have more fans than you!”

Le Jing shook his head. Still a kid — a little success and he’s floating already.

He reminded him, “Don’t post too much. When you make money later, hire a professional team to manage your account.”

“Why?” Zhang Ting frowned. “I like interacting with fans! They’re cute!”

Le Jing said, “When you get famous, all those posts will become black history — perfect targets for attacks.”

Zhang Ting didn’t believe it. “How can anyone attack me? I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m a good person — they won’t find anything.”

Le Jing thought for a moment, then stated bluntly, “Your background alone is enough for them to attack.”

Zhang Ting’s face instantly turned pale.

Le Jing leaned back tiredly, eyes half-closed, rubbing his nose. “It’s not just you. Many senior actors in our crew have major scandals in their past. Plenty of material someone could use. These are all ticking time bombs. The hotter our drama gets, the sooner these things will be exposed. Then the whole crew will be in trouble.”

All traces of pride vanished from Zhang Ting’s face.

He looked at Le Jing in panic, clinging to him like a drowning man clutching his last hope. “What do we do, Brother Jing? You must have a solution, right?”

Le Jing fell silent, lost in thought.

…

Bai Lang scrolled through his screen, face flushed with excitement as he read the pile of dirt Sister Sun had gathered.

Before, he thought Shi Jing was cunning — but now he realized that kid was an idiot.

If he had even half a brain, he wouldn’t have hired actors with such dirty pasts.

Look at them — gamblers, perverts, alcoholics, cheaters, even prostitutes. Shi Jing must’ve lost his mind to cast such people.

Bai Lang once genuinely believed “Record of Literary Masters” would be a dark horse. But now?

Heh.

Once this dirt was released, the drama would be as hated as it was loved now. And with the actors’ scandals, it might even be banned by authorities for negative social influence.