Chapter Sixty-Four: The Wager with Chen Zhixi

“Your conclusion?”
Chen Zhixi gently brushed the hair from her forehead and said,
“Based on my analysis, the Spring Festival season has immense box office potential, especially for explosive growth in a short period. The reason it hasn’t fully heated up in recent years is simply the lack of a film truly capable of igniting the season.
Our comedy fits perfectly.”
After hearing this, Chen Ling couldn’t help but laugh, truly delighted. No wonder she would become a giant in the industry one day—without the advantage of a time traveler’s memories, and just relying on data, she could deduce so much.
People like her only need a single opportunity to shine and outshine everyone around.
“So we’ll schedule it for the Spring Festival?”
“I have no objections—fully in support.” Clearly, Chen Zhixi didn’t want to miss this golden window. As for whether postponing until next year’s Spring Festival would yield even greater results, Chen Zhixi hardly needed anyone to explain that fame favors the early riser.
“Should we announce this to the crew?”
“Not just yet. I’ll make it public when filming wraps—don’t want it to disrupt the shoot.”
“Alright, then can I start drafting the marketing plan?”
“Of course, what else would we wait for?” Only then did Chen Ling pick up the materials Chen Zhixi had handed over, focusing on the films set to release this year.
“‘All’s Well, Ends Well,’ ‘What Women Want’... not a single real contender.”
In contrast, the New Year’s season was packed with blockbusters this year. ‘Let the Bullets Fly’ and ‘Personal Tailor 2’ both raked in high box office numbers in the previous timeline.
‘Let the Bullets Fly’ was even nearly nominated for heritage status. Still, even if the New Year’s season is close to the Spring Festival, there’s at least a month between them.
By the time ‘Breakup Buddies’ is released, those other films’ box office momentum will have almost run out. Unless something else shifts at the last minute, this year’s Spring Festival really doesn’t have a strong contender.
The only regret about this film’s timing is that it can’t move up to the New Year’s slot—there simply isn’t time. Otherwise, he’d definitely want to take on Feng Xiaogang’s ‘Personal Tailor 2.’ No chance this round, but there will be a next time. There’s always another day.
“Zhixi, after the sequel to ‘Lost on Journey’ next year, do you have any plans?” Chen Ling put down the papers and asked casually.
“Plans? I haven’t decided yet.” Chen Zhixi hesitated before answering. Chen Ling wasn’t satisfied; he couldn’t believe she didn’t catch his meaning.
Keeping his expression unchanged, Chen Ling continued with a smile, “Would you be interested in joining my company?”
Her eyes flickered, and she paused before replying, “This is a bit sudden. Can I think about it?”

In the adult world, any answer but a direct yes is a rejection. Clearly, whether it was this film or the sequel to ‘Lost on Journey,’ in her eyes, they were just stepping stones to something greater—in short, Chen Ling’s company was too small for her ambitions.
“How about a bet, then?”
Chen Zhixi looked at the unchanging expression on Chen Ling’s face, a little thrown by the sudden shift. Weren’t they talking business? Why this bet all of a sudden?
In truth, Chen Zhixi wanted to wait for the film’s results before making any decisions. She was ambitious. Chen Ling’s company was decent, but it had only been established for less than a year, with just one successful film to its name, a single director, and not even a single contracted artist. Its foundation was too shallow.
If this film did well, she’d likely stay. Despite the drawbacks, there were many advantages—especially Chen Ling’s personal vision and talent, which she admired.
Just the move to slot the film for the Spring Festival showed far more foresight than she had. If she was to work for someone, they had to surpass her in ability, vision, or platform; otherwise, why bother? That was her truest thought.
Right now, she felt Chen Ling’s vision surpassed her own. As for ability, that wasn’t just about directing and acting—there were other factors to consider, to be left aside for now. The main issue was the platform: too small, unable to contain her ambitions.
After a moment’s thought, she met Chen Ling’s predatory gaze and asked, “Director Chen, what’s the bet?”
“Of course, it’s about our film’s box office. We’re over halfway through filming, so the plot and quality can be roughly estimated. You give a box office prediction. If we don’t reach it, you win. If we exceed it, I win.”
Chen Ling truly wanted to recruit talent like her. Time had already proven her abilities.
A good general is hard to find. If you miss a movie project, there’s always another—domestic or international, he could remember plenty. But if you miss out on talent, it’s nearly impossible to find another. Recruiting a talent is harder than making a film.
Chen Zhixi was clearly cautious; she considered every word with care.
“What’s the wager?”
“Zhixi, aren’t you just asking what you already know? If I win, you work for me for a few years. If I lose, I owe you a favor.” A favor from a commercial director was worth something, and Chen Ling was so young—the stakes weren’t low.
After a brief pause, Chen Zhixi answered crisply, “No problem. I’m in.”
“How much are you betting on the box office?”
Chen Ling was genuinely curious. If she bet on twenty or thirty billion, he’d definitely lose—and that would show she had no intention of staying. If he wanted to avoid awkwardness, he could just end the topic with a joke. But if her estimate wasn’t outrageous, it would speak volumes all on its own.

After recalling the script, the dailies she’d watched several times, and her understanding of the market, Chen Zhixi held up four fingers. “Four hundred million.”
Predicting a four hundred million box office for a sophomore film directed and starred in by a sophomore film student—just saying it aloud would shock many, and could even get her scolded.
So far, the record for a Chinese-language film was ‘Aftershock,’ at just over six hundred million. The highest box office record was ‘Avatar’s’ 1.436 billion. A four hundred million box office, discounting Hollywood films, would put it in the top ten Chinese-language films.
All of 2009’s national box office only reached 6.2 billion. The most optimistic experts only predicted a hundred billion for the 2010 annual total.
Yet here she was, betting four hundred million on a thirty-million investment film directed and starred in by a college student. It was hard not to suspect she was drunk when she said it.
Chen Ling pursed his lips and smiled radiantly, raising his right hand. “No problem, I accept.”
“Then here’s to our film’s success at the box office.”
Without hesitation, Chen Zhixi reached out and shook his hand tightly. Her mind was clearly made up.
Though they hadn’t signed a contract, the bet was set. If the box office didn’t reach four hundred million, Chen Ling would have no reason to ask her to stay. If it exceeded four hundred million and she didn’t honor the bet, she’d have to consider the wrath of an influential commercial director.
If Chen Ling’s second film broke new records, his influence would be far greater than it was now—not someone she could afford to offend.
Seeing that Chen Ling wasn’t at all surprised by her box office estimate, Chen Zhixi became curious about his expectations. “Director Chen, would you care to share your own prediction?”
My prediction? Good question! Time for me to show off!
“Little Steel Cannon’s previous comments really annoyed me.” Chen Ling’s answer was a bit off-topic, but Chen Zhixi was starting to adapt to his way of speaking.
“Director Feng doesn’t have a film out this Spring Festival, right? Don’t tell me you’re…” Chen Zhixi suddenly thought of a shocking answer.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be any fun.”
Chen Ling waved her off and walked away. Watching his retreat, Chen Zhixi couldn’t help but feel stunned. This was madness!
Are all young people this crazy now?
If Chen Zhixi’s four hundred million prediction for ‘Breakup Buddies’ was drunken talk, then Chen Ling’s ambitions were the kind that even the people making the liquor wouldn’t dare to dream of!