After Defying the System, I Became a Genius Director

One week later.

Shao Yichen lazily sprawled across her desk in the dormitory, playing “Zone Ten,” with an overflowing trash bin full of takeout containers beside her feet.

Since entrusting the film’s soundtrack and distribution to the Nan twins, the brothers’ online gaming time had dramatically decreased, turning what had been a gradually cohesive and enjoyable team into her solitary journey of climbing ranks alone. But thinking about how the two were working hard to help her film lose money, Shao Yichen’s heart was filled with joy, making it easy to forgive being stood up.

Just as she was about to enter another match to continue her struggle, her phone rang.

Could it be the lunch takeout she ordered?! Shao Yichen perked up and quickly answered the call: “Hello, you can leave the takeout on the dorm supervisor’s desk downstairs—”

“What bitter gourd auntie?” An unfamiliar yet familiar voice came through the phone. “It’s me, Nan Rongzhou!”

Oh, it was the younger twin, not the delivery.

Shao Yichen recalled that when signing the film soundtrack and distribution contract, she had indeed left her phone number, so it was normal for Nan Rongzhou to call her now. With little enthusiasm, she said: “I see. What’s the matter?”

“It’s like this—the film’s sound effects are done!” An excited voice came from the other end of the phone.

Shao Yichen’s interest was piqued again. She initially wanted to say “that was quick,” but then realized she had no prior experience with film sound effects and didn’t know what efficiency standards were normal, so she swallowed those words: “That’s great.”

Nan Rongzhou continued on the other end: “I’ll send you the sample with the soundtrack right away.” At this point, his voice suddenly lowered, as if avoiding being overheard: “Don’t worry, I haven’t revealed your identity! My brother still thinks it’s a film made by my friend!”

Hearing that you’re still so easy to deceive puts my mind at ease, Shao Yichen thought, nodding with satisfaction. She also lowered her voice: “Really? Thank you so much!”

“Don’t mention it. After all, we’re friends now too, so no need to thank me for such a small matter.” Nan Rongzhou’s voice was filled with pride. After saying this, he suddenly seemed to remember something and added, “Oh, about the screening, I’ve also arranged it. The date is set for ten days from now! I don’t understand things like screening allocations and promotion, but anyway, everything’s been done according to your requirements!”

After hearing this, Shao Yichen was even more satisfied with Nan Rongzhou’s efficiency and comprehension. Now this was a true Chinese team player! Her original requirements had all been aimed at losing money—not only did she request no promotion, but she also set an incredibly low screen allocation. Most distribution companies that still wanted to make money would basically never agree to such requirements—but with Nan Rongzhou taking the lead, the matter was handled incredibly smoothly, without a single question from the company!

The distributor must have assumed this film was just for the brothers’ enjoyment and wouldn’t make money, so naturally agreed to these labor-saving requirements without hesitation.

Shao Yichen exchanged a few more casual pleasantries with Nan Rongzhou, agreeing to attend their first concert after the film became a hit (as if that could possibly happen, Shao Yichen thought confidently), and then hung up. Shortly after, Shao Yichen’s game private message—yes, they communicated through game private messages—received a private link. Shao Yichen copied it, opened her mobile browser, and played the video online.

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Half an hour later, Shao Yichen finished watching the completed film at double speed. She closed the webpage, appearing somewhat disappointed.

Why did it feel… not as terrible-sounding as she had imagined?

Of course, this wasn’t to say the Nan brothers’ rock music wasn’t awful. The end credit song they were responsible for was still a cacophony of howling ghosts and wolves; compared to the main film, this ear-grating end credit song might actually be more horrifying.

But when incorporated into the film as a soundtrack, it somehow seemed to lack that truly awful quality.

In other words, it wasn’t soulfully bad—it was ordinarily bad, so bad that… if you weren’t paying attention, you might not even notice how bad the soundtrack was.

Shao Yichen thought for a moment and figured the reason for this phenomenon might be that her expectations for the Nan brothers had been too high. She had preconceived the notion that they would definitely create something so appallingly bad it would shock heaven and earth, make ghosts and spirits weep, unprecedented and unrepeatable.

But in reality, while good music was one in a thousand, bad music all sounded much the same. Moreover, when handling the soundtrack without their vocal performances, using only drums, guitar, piano, and bass, the two of them putting something together based on basic music theory actually made it barely tolerable.

What Shao Yichen didn’t know was that Nan Rongyu and Nan Rongzhou had remade the soundtrack several times for this project, and had even, unprecedentedly, asked others (specifically, the innocent restaurant manager) for opinions on their music, showing exceptional dedication. It was precisely because of this that the soundtrack sounded like something a normal person could listen to.

Of course, since the end credits were completely freestyle, they had reverted to their normal standard.

But things weren’t so bad, Shao Yichen consoled herself. Although the soundtrack wasn’t as terrible as she had imagined, it certainly couldn’t be considered good either—at most, it was average. While it might not promote her goal of losing money, at least it wouldn’t hinder her money-losing efforts.

In any case, the film production had been finalized! Shao Yichen tossed her phone aside and fell back onto her dormitory bed, her heart filled with longing to lose money.

Soon, she would successfully lose money on her first film, bringing her path home one step closer.

As Shao Yichen was indulging in this fantasy, she suddenly felt like she had forgotten something.

—Come to think of it, shouldn’t the takeout she ordered have arrived half an hour ago?

She nervously exited the video player and indeed saw several missed calls, the earliest one from—half an hour ago.

“My takeout!!!”

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Ten days later.

Shao Yichen was sleeping soundly in bed when she was suddenly awakened by a phone call.

This wasn’t the caller’s fault; it was just Shao Yichen’s habit of sleeping in. After all, it was already ten in the morning.

The phone rang two or three times before she reluctantly picked it up, opening her eyes to slits to see who was calling. Upon seeing, her drowsiness vanished by half, and she quickly sat up to answer.

“Professor Zhao, why are you calling?” Shao Yichen asked cautiously.

Indeed, the caller was the original owner’s mentor, Zhao Kang. Although Shao Yichen wasn’t very familiar with him, she didn’t dare to be negligent. After all, the original owner hadn’t graduated yet, and maintaining a good relationship with her advisor was important. If things went poorly, the original owner might not get her diploma, and when Shao Yichen returned to her original world, leaving the original owner to face this mess, she would feel guilty.

Zhao Kang laughed on the other end: “Why so formal today? Didn’t you used to joke around and call me ‘Director Zhao’?”

Shao Yichen scratched her head awkwardly. She was still groggy from sleep—how could she remember what the original owner usually called her advisor?

“Alright, no more jokes,” Zhao Kang suddenly became serious on the other end. “You sneaky Shao Yichen, I didn’t expect you to secretly do something so big behind my back!”

Shao Yichen had just regained her composure, only to be startled by Zhao Kang’s words: “W-what big thing?”

“Stop pretending, I know everything!” Zhao Kang clearly didn’t believe she couldn’t guess what he was talking about. “What else could it be but the fact that you quietly released a film without saying a word!”

Hearing this, Shao Yichen was stunned for a moment, then looked at the time and suddenly realized.

Ten days had passed—her film had been released!

No wonder her advisor had suddenly called; he must have seen her work in the list of released films!

On the other end, Zhao Kang was still marveling: “Although I always knew you would eventually create your own work, I didn’t expect this day to come so quickly—you haven’t even graduated yet!”

Now understanding what her advisor was talking about, Shao Yichen regained her composure. As long as he hadn’t discovered her identity as a reincarnator or wasn’t going to withhold her diploma, she didn’t really care about other matters. She gave a few dry laughs and said a few words of thanks for the camera he had lent her, trying to gloss over the situation.

However, Zhao Kang clearly had more to say. He first praised Shao Yichen for her accomplishments at such a young age, making her feel extremely uneasy, before changing the subject: “However, although I haven’t seen this film you directed yet, the box office situation doesn’t look promising. You should be mentally prepared.”

Hearing this, Shao Yichen felt a surge of joy. But she couldn’t show it too obviously, so she simply asked indirectly: “Do you think there’s a problem?”

“You made a low-budget film, right? And an independent one at that?” Zhao Kang sighed. “I checked, and your film’s first-day screen allocation was less than 3%. With such a low allocation, even with high attendance rates, the box office will probably be only a few million or even less.”

Actually, the few million Zhao Kang estimated seemed a bit too high to Shao Yichen—she hoped not to earn a single cent. But then she considered that the box office revenue would be divided among the distributor, theaters, and cinema chains, and then she would have to split her share with the distributor again. Calculated this way, she would still be losing money.

“But after all, this is just your debut work, with very little promotion. Even if the box office is low, it’s not really related to the quality of the film itself—it’s purely a distribution issue,” Zhao Kang comforted her. “You just need to use this work to build your reputation.”

“I understand,” Shao Yichen nodded with feigned calmness, thinking she needed to keep a close eye on the box office and audience reception.

If worse came to worst, she still had one trump card she hadn’t played—she had deliberately kept 30,000 yuan unspent, specifically to extinguish any possibility of profit at the source!

Author’s Note: Li Xingyu: She’s working so hard, she must be able to make money.

Shao Yichen: I’m working so hard, I must be able to lose money!

Author: Whether money is lost or not mainly depends on me, hehe.