Chapter 108: The Hundred-chapter Law
No wonder Yu Wei felt that the singing in this episode of the program was lackluster; it turned out he didn’t hear Teacher Meng Han’s sigh of amazement…
He had regressed; he couldn’t even hear the NPC’s fixed lines.
He didn’t know if it was an illusion, but Yu Wei always felt that today Meng Han’s gaze toward him had a bit more faint pity.
In the previous episode, his gaze toward him was still full of fighting spirit; it had only been a week, so how had it changed so much?
What happened?
It couldn’t be that after Meng Han fainted, he awakened the system and could now see everyone’s life countdown, then discovered a 0 above his head…
This was the rhythm of getting hit by a car on the way out.
Teasing aside, Yu Wei was still very careful when going out; after all, he had been hit once, and secondary creations were somewhat inappropriate.
After being sent home by the program team, Yu Wei finally had time to open the book friend circle and browse readers’ book reviews after a long time.
Any content output industry must listen to public opinions; stars, internet celebrities, and bloggers are like this, and web novel authors are no exception.
Of course, listening to opinions can’t be done blindly; after all, most netizens are laymen, many opinions are just personal subjective ideas, not to mention the silent majority.
Yu Wei’s first book was meant to feature a carefree, mischief-making protagonist; the opening was quite good, with data crushing a bunch of Old Dengs.
But as readers increased, problems arose; a few serious readers criticized the protagonist’s persona, and he thought that was the majority opinion, so he revised the outline overnight.
What happened later didn’t need guessing; the data collapsed and he blended into the crowd…
This was Yu Wei’s bloody lesson; many readers who read books are silent, and some comments get seen not because there are many of them, but because they talk a lot.
Of course, this blame couldn’t be put on readers’ heads; ultimately, it was his own problem, lacking sufficient experience and his own judgment.
He wasn’t the type to shift blame; after all, the readers who left messages had no malice, and at such times, the author’s own big-picture view was crucial.
Opinions must be listened to, but which specific ones to heed is indeed a profound knowledge.
Yu Wei’s current insight was that stage-based suggestions around impressions could be listened to, but broad directional suggestions around preferences could not…
If readers said the recent chapters were a bit flat, that must be heeded; adjusting the rhythm or improving the instance was a good thing.
Pure personal reader preferences that directly contradict the novel’s overall direction—such comments could just be glanced at; fundamental changes couldn’t and shouldn’t be made.
In Yu Wei’s current book reviews, both types existed; some said the movie filming plot was too watery and felt very boring—that kind must be heeded.
Readers hadn’t seen the movie part in “A Man’s Martial World,” so they naturally couldn’t understand; filming is quite a running account, indeed with no fun to watch.
For many entertainment industry people who came with fame, they actually couldn’t stand Yu Wei’s recent chapters at all.
After all, they had truly filmed, and the novel plot was purely arbitrary writing…
The redemption requirement for “Map of Mountains and Rivers” is chapter subscriptions; Yu Wei had indeed noticed the novel data dropping when redeeming the song a few days ago.
The facts were there, so opinions about the instance must be heeded.
There were also some comments directly evaluating that the “scoring” golden finger had problems; they felt art and people couldn’t be divided into grades with numbers.
Yu Wei didn’t know if their words made reason, but these opinions obviously couldn’t be heeded, as they directly contradicted the novel’s main line.
A scoring novel not allowing scoring—what’s this about?
“Looks like I need to think of an interesting new instance.”
Actually, flat plot and dropping data were very normal; web novels have a “hundred-chapter law,” where as the worldview unfolds and novelty decreases, reader aesthetic fatigue is inevitable.
Entertainment novels have corresponding handling methods; the most common is escalating conflict contradictions, transitioning from person-to-person to person-to-organization.
The classic routine is business war, fighting in the arena against the opposing company, or the protagonist being suppressed by the original company, jumping to a new company for counterattack…
How to put it—it’s worth a look, but jumping from the cutting board into the fish tank means freedom for the fish?
Moreover, being inexplicably suppressed and shelved—such plots do raise blood pressure; at this point, countering with singing already doesn’t feel refreshing; the best method is to pilot a Gundam and crash into the building for total annihilation.
The second routine is introducing a new antagonist, the “invincible in the world, enemy from above” stage.
Either a stronger opponent, or a clash between traditional culture and entertainment to death, crushing Korean wave with national style or something.
More directly, go international, giving readers “where did this come from”—is this still domestic…
This writing style has no big issues, just a bit arbitrary and untenable, easily causing cringe to the point of curling toes.
At least in Yu Wei’s view, one person representing a culture was somewhat far-fetched, feeling no different from a national fortune arena.
Moreover, he was a star himself; writing such controversial things had a bit of instigating fight suspicion.
The later routines were more conventional, involving the female lead with emotional plots, either turning to faction strife or exposing romance.
However, this handling suits books with a female lead; “Why Does the Star System Care So Much About Ratings?” has no female lead—protagonist Wei Yu is a single dog, making do with the scoring system for days.
“Then only the last method remains.”
Enhance the protagonist’s prestige, transitioning from technical growth in singing and filming to improved resource control—in short, raising industry status.
Have the protagonist start building an artist team; when the juniors he trains have status in the entertainment industry, it means he has successfully founded a sect.
Of course, this writing has issues; readers easily feel confusion toward newly added juniors like “who the hell are you.”
New roles have no memorable points for readers, making it hard to acknowledge them.
But this problem was easy for Yu Wei to solve; fictional roles lack memorable points, so writing in real stars everyone knows would do.
It was time to add more people to the Soul Refining Banner…
Just as he started designing the new plot, Qi Yunming’s untimely call interrupted his train of thought.
Inspiration gone; taking a day off.
What was Old Salted Fish calling him for? These two days he hadn’t provoked Qi Luo An, so it shouldn’t be for peeping.
“Qi… Old Qi, what’s up?”
Yu Wei’s typing hands didn’t stop; he kept writing his novel on speakerphone.
“I’m handling the movie’s early preparation—raising funds, film crew staff, and main creative team; you don’t need to worry about those. Any opinions on actors?”
Yu Wei’s action stalled, somewhat suspecting he misheard.
Qi Yunming had gotten the script just a week ago, yet was already preparing the movie’s early work—this was still the slacking off director he knew?
Yu Wei thought he’d dawdle for one or two months after getting the script, but unexpectedly it was put into action so quickly.
Turned over a new leaf?
Qi Yunming certainly hadn’t become diligent; he was still an old salted fish, handling preparations only because he had long reached the highest realm of slacking off.
With the script in hand, not acting would be a nagging worry, especially with urging from the company and partners—slacking wouldn’t feel refreshing.
The best method at such times was to quickly delegate the work, extracting himself cleanly; the people below knew how to do it, so they wouldn’t bother him.
Efficiently making plans and being a hands-off boss allowed undisturbed slacking.
“You’re asking me?”
“Of course; you’re the screenwriter and male lead actor, so you still have the right to give opinions.”
It’s said some screenwriters, when creating, directly incorporate actors into roles; Qi Yunming didn’t know if Yu Wei did, but screenwriters he’d worked with before had.
Many scripts from inception had actors in mind for the screenwriter; he casually asked more as reference.
“This…”
Yu Wei’s hesitation actually stumped Qi Yunming; this kid was usually frank, so why so hesitant today—was it that hard to speak?
“Just boldly say any ideas about actors; we’ll find a method to contact them!”
Just waiting for this sentence.
Yu Wei actually had some ideas early on for this drama’s casting; this was asking the right person.
Qi Yunming had just asked casually, but Yu Wei really dared to speak—one bolder than the next, names of first-, second-, and third-tier actors spilling out like they were free.
The lowest status Su Jian was fourth-tier; Yu Wei wanted him to play Meng Te, the later sissy Meng Te Jiao.
The most outrageous was national-level screen goddess Su Xinnan; Yu Wei actually wanted to invite her to play Xia Luo’s mom.
“How dare you?”
Yu Wei’s wave of huge demands directly scared Qi Yunming; with so many popularity stars, the funds he raised couldn’t cover actor’s salaries, let alone filming…
“Didn’t you tell me to boldly say?”
You get unhappy when I really say it.
Yu Wei knew these people had high actor’s salaries, but he never planned to pay them; acquaintances were convenient for free of charge; he wouldn’t dare use strangers even if free.
Unfamiliar actors—if the movie didn’t release and their reputation collapsed, what then? The ones he suggested were all acquaintances; at least character was guaranteed.
“You’re too bold!”
Qi Yunming’s mood was quite complex; though he often made bad movies, he hadn’t lost much money; with Yu Wei’s casting, the company would lose to its ancestors.
He, usually calm and breezy, was made anxious by Yu Wei’s few words; even with money, you couldn’t spend like this.
“No worries; treat it as reference, try contacting; just mention my name then.”
Did Yu Wei have that much face? Of course not; whether stars take actor’s salary isn’t up to the artist; management companies won’t forgo their share?
His name wasn’t a pass, but a reminder that the matter could be directly discussed with him; these days, what can’t be negotiated…
Filming a movie doesn’t take much time; besides actor’s salary, he could provide other things.
“Alright.”
Qi Yunming instantly understood Yu Wei’s meaning, but he still held doubts; those entertainment industry management companies wouldn’t do losing deals.
Hopefully Yu Wei could offer them desirable terms, then the movie could be fully handed to this kid to handle.
Looking at the prepared list in the novel, Yu Wei was already a bit impatient: fellow daoists, quickly enter my Soul Refining Banner.
“No, it should be the God Sealing List then.”
