Entertainment from Divorce

Chapter 1548

On the morning the publicity campaign was launched, an unusual atmosphere of tension permeated the offices of Brilliant Entertainment.

The technical staff stared at the scrolling data stream on the screen, their fingertips tapping on the keyboard almost as fast as the server was running, the keys glistening with oil from frequent use.

As Chen Ye carried a stack of documents through the corridor, he overheard people discussing the load on overseas servers.

To support the global simultaneous launch of the interactive star map, the technical team worked three consecutive all-nighters to conduct stress tests, and even the engineers who had been sent overseas to learn about cloud architecture last year personally took charge.

The distributed storage system he and his team built can simultaneously support concurrent access from millions of users.

Even so, he kept his eyes glued to the monitor screen, afraid of even the slightest lag.

Tan Yue stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window in his office, holding the crackled celadon cup in his hand. The tea swayed gently in the cup, and the water droplets that had condensed on the cup wall slid slowly down the curve.

The rising sun outside the window is piercing through the clouds, dyeing the city skyline golden red, much like the sunrise scene on the habitable planet in "Interstellar," with the traffic flowing between the buildings forming a golden river.

He watched as the push notifications on his phone screen kept refreshing, with promotional materials from all over the world being released in sequence according to time zones.

From the light boxes in BJ's subway to the giant screen in Times Square, New York, the black hole poster with an oriental ink painting style sparked the first wave of discussion among people of different skin colors. The words "Brilliant Entertainment" printed in silver foil on the poster shimmered with a metallic luster in the sunlight.

"President Tan, the dissemination data for the first set of comparative posters is in." Chen Ye's voice rang out from the doorway.

On the tablet screen in her hand, a red propagation curve was rising at a steep angle, with specific timestamps marked next to the data nodes.

"The number of reposts on domestic social media platforms has exceeded one million, with over thirty KOLs from the film and television industry among those who shared the posts; overseas forums have seen over 30,000 discussion threads, with astronomy enthusiasts starting to analyze the details of our special effects frame by frame, and even students from Caltech creating technical analysis threads."

Tan Yue took the tablet, his fingertips sliding across the screen, the edges of the tempered glass screen protector showing bubbles from long-term use.

The reference image on the left, taken three years ago, still bears obvious traces of imitation; the layers of the light bands are blurry, and the particle trajectories are chaotic.

In the current version on the right, the halo at the edge of the black hole resembles a meticulously crafted gem. Every refraction of light exudes the confidence built through independent research and development. The team's unique ray tracing algorithm allows the light band to exhibit a natural decay gradient.

Have the publicity team release the video explaining the technician's explanation.

Tan Yue suddenly spoke up, his gaze falling on an overseas comment: "This is what hard science fiction should look like. Tell them that we don't need to shy away from the technologies we've borrowed; honesty is the only way to earn respect."

"The video should include clips of my study notes from three years ago; those photos of foreign language materials filled with annotations are more powerful than any explanation."

As Chen Ye withdrew, a cheer erupted in the corridor.

The tech guys were clapping around the screen. It turned out that their interactive star map had received more clicks in North America than the promotional pages for other sci-fi blockbusters launched at the same time.

The young man, who had studied interaction design in North America, was blushing as he accepted congratulations from his colleagues, his fingers still demonstrating on the screen how to zoom in and out of the star map using gestures.

His two-finger rotation function allows users to observe the structure of galaxies from 360 degrees. His excitement seemed to overflow, and the beads of sweat on his nose reflected the light.

Three days later, Engineer Wu walked into Tan Yue's office in the morning light, his briefcase still damp with dew.

He placed a thick stack of reports on the table, the clippings in various languages ​​rustling between the pages, as if telling stories of wonder from different regions, the glue marks on the edges of the clippings still fresh.

"Mr. Tan, this is a summary of the first phase of our publicity campaign."

As a hard science fiction film, the first trailer released by Brilliant Entertainment is full of sincerity and contains a wealth of content.

Mr. Wu pushed up his glasses, revealing bloodshot eyes behind the lenses, yet a light that was hard to conceal. The red blood vessels on the whites of his eyes spread like a spider web.

"The global discussion has exceeded expectations, especially the several sets of comparative technology materials, which have become headlines in major science and technology media outlets. Even the official website of Nature magazine has given it a special report."

Tan Yue gestured for Wu Gong to sit down, and Chen Ye brought over a freshly brewed cup of Longjing tea. The steam rose between the two of them, carrying the unique fragrance of pre-rain Longjing tea.

"Tell me more about it."

He picked up his teacup and watched the tea leaves slowly unfurl in the water, as if he were witnessing the birth of a miniature universe. The tea stems slowly stood upright in the boiling water, creating a peculiar spectacle.

"Let's talk about the domestic situation first."

Engineer Wu opened the first report, which was covered with screenshots of reports from major domestic media outlets, neatly cropped.

"On social media platforms, the hashtag #HardcoreRomanceOfChineseScienceFiction# has garnered over 800 million views. Some netizens have unearthed photos of our technicians studying overseas three years ago, calling it 'the most touching story of a comeback.' In the photo, our people are crouching in a corner of someone else's studio, holding laptops with special effects software on the screen."

He paused, turned a page, and added a touch of excitement to his voice: "The reaction overseas was even more unexpected."

"North America's largest tech blog described our special effects progress as 'stunning,' and even compared it to their assessment of Chinese science fiction three years ago—from 'imitator' to 'innovator,' a transformation that took only three years."

"Several astronomy journals in Europe contacted us, wanting to conduct exclusive interviews with our technical team."

Tan Yue's fingertip paused on the words "reposted from the European Space Agency's official website," where a screenshot was attached. The space agency's official account wrote in both Chinese and English: "A perfect fusion of art and science, a tribute to the brilliant team."

He recalled what the technician who had been sent to Europe for training last year had said when he returned.

"They always think we can't produce rigorous science fiction, so let's prove them wrong with data."

The more than 30 gigabytes of observational data that the technician brought back has now become a reference for planetary motion in movies.

"The Southeast Asian market is even more interesting."

Engineer Wu smiled and pulled out a chart, which marked the hot topics of discussion in various countries with different colors: red for scientific settings and blue for emotional ones.

"Xiao Lin, who was sent there to learn, was right. Local audiences especially loved the family storyline in the film. The 'Write a Letter to the Future' activity has already surpassed 500,000 participants. Many parents brought their children to the planetarium to participate in our joint activities, saying, 'This is the most meaningful weekend ever.' The director of the Kuala Lumpur planetarium even sent a video showing children drawing in front of the star map model we made, all drawing their imagined alien homes."

He suddenly remembered something, pulled a USB drive from his briefcase—its metal casing emblazoned with the logo of Brilliant Entertainment—and said, “By the way, the space station model our tech team made became a popular photo spot after it was exhibited at an overseas museum. This is a video from the American Museum of Natural History in New York.”

Mr. Wu plugged the USB drive into the computer, and a line of people waiting to visit immediately appeared on the screen. The line snaked from the exhibition hall all the way to the museum lobby. When the camera zoomed in, you could see that the explanatory sign next to the model read "Independent Production of China's Brilliant Entertainment".

Below this was a smaller line of text: "From learning to innovation, interpreting interstellar dreams through details."

On the model's solar panels, each solar cell is replicated at a 1:100 scale, and even the angles are based on real data from the International Space Station.

As Tan Yue watched the children of different skin colors in the video, their eyes filled with wonder as they peered at the display case, a gentle light appeared in her eyes.

“Have the props team make a few more models,” he suddenly said, his voice unusually light. “Give them to the museums we're collaborating with, as a small contribution to science education. The names of the production team should be engraved on the bases of the models; those artisans who stayed up all night polishing the details deserve to be remembered.”

Engineer Wu quickly jotted it down, his pen scribbling rapidly across the notebook, ink spreading into tiny blotches on the paper: "There's also good news. Several overseas streaming platforms have proactively approached us about collaborations, wanting to buy the on-demand rights to the film. Their offers are 30% higher than we expected. They say the current level of discussion alone is enough to guarantee we break even, and they've even promised us dedicated featured placement."

"No rush to sign."

Tan Yue put down his teacup, the bottom of which made a soft sound as it hit the table, like a crisp tuning.

“Let’s see how the reviews are after the premiere.” Tan Yue looked at Engineer Wu, his eyes filled with clear consideration. “What we want is not a one-time box office boost, but for global audiences to recognize the industrial strength of Chinese films. We need to tell them that they can cooperate, but they must prominently display ‘Chinese independent production’.”

"This condition cannot be compromised; we must insist even if it means earning less money."

Engineer Wu nodded emphatically.

He understood all too well the significance of this condition.

Back when they were begging others to buy the copyright, the other party couldn't even be bothered to mention the word "China," and the production company's name on the movie poster was as small as a mosquito's leg. Now, however, they are arguing fiercely over those few words.

“I understand what you mean.” He opened the last report. “There’s also an unexpected bonus: overseas fans have spontaneously organized a ‘Find the Real-World Star Chart’ campaign. They’ve taken our interactive star charts to observe the night sky and shared comparison photos on social media. An astronomy enthusiast in Norway even found the real-world prototype of the habitable planet in the movie.”

"This wave of tap water advertising was even more effective than our traditional print ads, with a conversion rate as high as 17%."

Tan Yue looked at the photos.

Some of the photos were taken from city rooftops, with flashing neon lights visible in the background.

Some of the photos were taken at remote observatories, where the starry sky was so pure that there was not a single impurity. What they all had in common was that the blue planet labeled "home" could be seen in the photos.

“This is the best form of advertising,” he said softly, his voice tinged with an indescribable emotion. “When the audience feels a connection between the starry sky in the film and the starry sky above their own heads, they will truly be drawn into the story. This emotional connection is more effective than any marketing rhetoric.”

Just then, Chen Ye knocked and entered, holding an urgent document in her hand, the edges of which were slightly curled from being flipped through so quickly. "President Tan, Director Wu," her voice trembled slightly, barely suppressed excitement, "Professor Marcus, the Nobel Prize laureate in Physics, sent a video email saying he was deeply impressed by our black hole effects and would like to discuss the scientific settings in the film with you, especially the visual presentation of the five-dimensional space."

Mr. Wu's eyes lit up instantly.

He practically snatched the documents, his fingers slicing rapidly across the touchpad, the mouse cursor jumping across the screen: "This is fantastic news! Professor Marcus rarely participates in public entertainment activities; this is the ultimate affirmation of our technology!"

Tan Yue watched as the white-haired physicist in the video meticulously analyzed the appearance of the black hole's light band.

Suddenly, I remembered that three years ago, he led his team to participate in an academic conference overseas.

At that time, he secretly resolved to ensure that the technical strength of Chinese films would receive such recognition.

"We are honored to reply to the professor."

Tan Yue's voice was calm yet powerful, each word resounding.

Chen Ye responded and left.

Looking at Tan Yue, Engineer Wu suddenly sighed, "Remember our first trip overseas to discuss distribution? The project manager there couldn't even be bothered to watch our sample footage; he was just sitting there playing on his phone with his legs crossed. Now, a Nobel laureate is actively seeking cooperation. The change is truly remarkable."

He shook his head, his eyes filled with regret.

Tan Yue looked out the window. The midday sun made the glass curtain wall shine, like a flowing galaxy, and the reflections of the traffic below danced on the wall.

"It's not that things are changing too fast, it's that we're moving steadily."

"Then I'll go arrange the premiere."

Mr. Wu picked up his briefcase, his steps much lighter than before: "By the way, the marketing department said that even overseas secondary schools are discussing our film. Some teachers want to use the interactive star map as a teaching tool to explain galaxy evolution. The promotional effect is truly beyond imagination."

Tan Yue smiled and said nothing more.

He picked up the old notebook, his fingertips brushing over the youthful plans, the pages yellowed and brittle with age.

Suddenly, I felt that those stars that were once out of reach were now twinkling at my fingertips, within my reach.

When Chen Ye came in to refill his tea, she saw Tan Yue staring intently at the global heat map on his computer screen. The red hotspots covered most of the globe, from the Americas to Europe, from Africa to Oceania, forming a blazing inferno. "Mr. Tan, we've just brewed some Longjing tea in the break room," she said softly, placing the teacup beside him. The coaster was adorned with small star trail patterns.

Tan Yue looked up, his eyes shining brighter than the heatmap on the screen, as if stars were burning within them: "Just leave it there."

His gaze returned to the screen. "Have the publicity team prepare the materials for the second phase, focusing on the team members who returned from studying abroad. Include their study notes and work scenes in the documentary. I want the world to know that Chinese filmmakers not only learn, but also create."

The sunlight outside the window was perfect, casting dappled patterns of light on the floor through the blinds, like a spilled Milky Way. And their own vast universe was just beginning to unfold its true grandeur.