Blake put down his skewer when he heard this, looking at Shawn Carter with a complicated expression. The script described some kind of story, which he roughly summarized: the female lead used to be a member of a viper assassin organization. After getting pregnant, she wanted to retire, but her former lover—who was also the boss of the assassin organization, Bill—sent people to massacre the wedding venue. She was almost shot dead as well. Four years later, the female lead woke up and prepared to take revenge.

Then, in order to get her revenge, the female lead even sought out a katana that could slay gods and Buddhas alike. 1v1, 1v10—those were nothing; the female lead could take on dozens at once.

Honestly, Blake felt that even in the Dynasty Warriors games he used to play, activating the Musou skill wasn’t as fierce as this female lead in the script. What the heck is this?

Chapter 4: Money-Printing Machine

If the script for “Six Panels” at least sounded meaningful and highbrow, then this new script was just full of nonsense.

Why not just use a gun for revenge? Why carry a katana, and how could you even get it through airport security?

Let’s not even talk about all that. Why should a single katana be able to take on a hundred people? Do they really think this katana is called the “Blade of Weeping Blood” with life-steal, or the “Fate’s Named Sword” that can dodge fatal bullets?

Just from the script alone, this is total crap.

“Bro, how much did you invest in this script?” Blake wiped his sweat with two napkins and asked.

Shawn Carter replied, “Tens of millions. Money’s not a problem, I’m investing myself.”

“!!”

Investing tens of millions in something like this—Blake thought even he could do it.

“Honestly, I shouldn’t be the one to say this,” Blake said, “but bro, with an investment of tens of millions, you’d need at least 150 million at the box office just to break even. With this script, 150 million is tough.”

In reality, if you’re just breaking even, you’re actually losing money. Because for movies, if you invest manpower and resources and don’t get at least a 20% profit margin, it’s basically working for nothing. And to be clear, “working for nothing” means others benefit, not you. It’s not like freeloading, where you enjoy yourself; here, it’s others who enjoy at your expense. That’s the literal meaning—no innuendo.

This issue reminded Shawn Carter of his friendly exchanges with the system. Insert flashback below—

“By the way, system, why haven’t you given me any tasks? Like, first step: make a name for myself, or maybe get a certain box office for my first movie, or win some film award or something.” Shawn Carter suddenly thought.

The system replied: [I’m just a money-dispensing machine that values feelings.]

In other words, there were no tasks. Shawn Carter was surprised—so much freedom? And in the following conversation, he learned something else: although the special funds for filming could only be used for making movies, any profits from the movies would be Shawn Carter’s own, to spend as he pleased, and he didn’t have to give the system a single cent.

Shawn Carter thought this was a bit like money laundering, and cost wasn’t even a concern.

Back at the barbecue stall, Shawn Carter said firmly, “When I make movies, I never care about box office. I only care about art—the art of film!”

What kind of art is this? Blake scratched his head. He really wanted to ask what kind of family Shawn Carter came from—did he have oil fields or mines, to spend money like this?

“Blake, let me ask you something a bit out of left field. Do you know anyone in animation production?” Shawn Carter suddenly asked.

“I do, actually. I have a buddy who takes on anime outsourcing work.” Blake asked in return, “Bro, why do you need an animation studio for your movie?”

“I want to add animated segments to the film—martial arts, animation, westerns, plus a bit of chanbara style. I feel like I’m about to hit it big.” The more Shawn Carter thought about it, the more excited he got.

Adding animation to a script like this—Blake could hardly imagine how hard that would be. But professionalism is professionalism, so he still asked Shawn Carter if it was urgent.

“As soon as possible. I don’t have much time left,” Shawn Carter said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not terminally ill.”

“Uh…” Blake nodded, stood up, and said, “Then I’ll go make some calls.”

“Don’t rush, eat a bit more.” Shawn Carter grabbed two skewers of grilled beef and handed them to Blake, letting him eat as he walked.

Maybe Blake was a little moved—he paused for three seconds before taking the skewers. It was now 8 p.m., the neon lights were flashing, and it was prime time for business talks. The first people Blake contacted were the line producer and the location manager.

The former has been explained before; the latter, the location manager, is responsible for securing shooting locations. For example, if you need to rent a street or a scenic spot, the location manager negotiates that. Blake also noticed there were quite a few exterior scenes in the script, unlike the small-scale “Six Panels,” so someone like this was needed.

Night fell, and Beijing was lively—but it was other people’s liveliness.

On the surface, Shawn Carter seemed to be wandering aimlessly, but in reality, he was just wandering, only thinking in his head about the casting for Bill’s killer.

This film was a female lead story; the vengeful bride was extremely important. On Earth, she was played by Uma Thurman, who started as a cover model and had beautiful legs. That’s why Quentin collaborated with her on three films. There’s a saying that the role of the female lead in “Kill Bill” was Quentin’s 30th birthday gift to Uma Thurman. Who knows if that’s true, but one thing Shawn Carter was sure of: this character being white or Asian had nothing to do with the plot design. The only requirement was that she had to be both beautiful and cool.