Literary Master: Starting with Refusing to Be a Child Star

Chapter 137 Global Editing Competition

Five weeks after "The Magpie Murder Case" was released on overseas platforms, Luo Jinnian received a forwarded email from Lin Yiming. The forwarded content included a link with the subject line, "This clip has gone viral, and the platform has taken notice."

It turns out it was the opening sequence of "The Magpie Murder Case," which a foreign video editing master fell in love with at first sight and used to edit his own video.

The fire turned out to be larger than anyone had anticipated.

When Luo Jinnian clicked the link, the page loaded for a few seconds. It was a short video clip of less than two minutes, with no dialogue, only visuals and background music, and the visuals were all opening footage from "The Magpie Murder Case".

The interplay of light and shadow in the old Shikumen building, the pages of a book turning in the wind in the study, the window lit by a lamp on a rainy night—black and white images and warm-colored scenes flashed alternately.

The background music is the latter half of the opening theme, a slow, wordless piano melody, as if waiting for something.

The editing rearranged the opening sequence, interweaving the visual elements of the modern and Republican era more closely. Light, shadow, window frames, and pages that open and close are like two lines extending and intertwining, forming a silent dialogue in the picture.

After reading it, Luo Jinnian opened the comments section. Because foreigners don't like to comment, there weren't many comments, but it was clear that each one had substantial content.

"I don't know what this show is about, but the opening sequence is just too beautiful."

Someone asked, "What drama's opening sequence is this? Is the music and visuals from the same production?"

The music was actually Luo Jinnian's clever idea.

The song used in the previous life's edit actually had nothing to do with "The Magpie Murder Case" itself, but in this life, Luo Jinnian used the original song and changed the lyrics to be more suitable for the drama.

This international breakthrough is well worth all the effort he's put in.

People in China are also discussing it: "I've always felt that the opening credits of domestic dramas are just for filling time. This is the first time I've wanted to watch a drama because of an opening credits."

The post was followed by a hashtag that has been used thousands of times. Most of the content is related to that opening sequence. Some people are trying to recreate the lighting and color tones of those two minutes, while others are editing clips from other films and television shows in a similar style. The accompanying text is almost the same, such as "Oh right, that's the feel of it."

Lin Yiming's second email arrived two days later, attached with a screenshot of internal platform data. "In the two days after that edited video was released, the search volume for the series increased significantly, with the increase mainly concentrated among users who watched that video and then searched for the series title." When Luo Jinnian saw that data, he recalled a saying he had seen on a forum before: "The opportunity to verify the true nature of a person's destiny is only given once or twice, and you must seize it."

He pondered for a moment and then arranged for a large sum of real money to be invested in the video.

In the third week, the video clip's view count broke a new record, and comments began appearing in different languages—English, Japanese, Spanish, and some he couldn't recognize. Someone in English wrote, "What's the name of this background music?", someone in Japanese wrote, "It sounds like a movie trailer," and someone in Spanish wrote, "I know this director's other work." These comments were like ports connected to the same island by different bridges; the languages ​​differed, but they all pointed in the same direction—the world, cut and pieced back together by window frames, had already crossed more unseen boundaries.

During the monthly communication, Lin Yiming made a suggestion: "We could consider using that opening sequence clip as part of our overseas promotional materials. Instead of replacing existing promotional materials, we could use it as a supplement for audience-driven recommendations. This bottom-up flow is definitely more popular than top-down promotion."

After listening, Luo Jinnian said "Okay," and then added, "But don't contact that editor. One of the reasons this video went viral is because it wasn't officially released." Lin Yiming paused for a moment on the other end of the screen, then nodded, "Understood."

Luo Jinnian later downloaded a copy of that edited video and saved it in the "Magpie Murder Case" folder, along with the previous feedback. That night, he opened the window and stood there for a while. The evening breeze blew in from outside, a little cool, carrying the scent of distant grass and trees. He remembered a detail in the opening sequence that he hadn't paid much attention to before—in one frame, the detective from the Republican era stood by the study window, while Susan from the modern era stood in front of the office's floor-to-ceiling window. The two people, separated by eighty years, looked out the window in different directions, but in that edit, their silhouettes were illuminated simultaneously at the same moment due to the angle of the light. The two people from different eras never met, but their shadows converged in that two-minute clip.

The popularity of that opening sequence lasted for nearly three weeks.

In the fourth week, Lin Yiming sent a more detailed data report. The report showed that during that period, the search volume for "The Magpie Murder Case" on overseas platforms remained high, peaking after the edited video was reposted by several film and television accounts. One of these accounts, a film and television review account with a certain influence overseas, reposted it with the caption: "I watched the whole series because of the opening credits." The engagement on that repost was significantly higher than the account's usual data, with someone in the comments asking, "Was it worth it after watching it?" The blogger replied, "It's worth everything that the two-minute opening credits promised."

Luo Jinnian saw the reply during his lunch break; the light from his phone screen appeared somewhat dim in the afternoon sunlight. He took a screenshot of the comment and saved it to the "Overseas Feedback" folder. That folder already contained many similar items: screenshots of comments of varying lengths, snapshots of platform rating pages, and several links to film reviews in different languages. They all converged into the same folder from different directions, with different content, but all pointing in the same direction.

The platform also noticed the buzz generated by the opening sequence. Lin Yiming conveyed the platform's idea: they wanted to officially promote the opening sequence, pushing it on the homepages of several major regions for a period of time.

Luo Jinnian thought for a moment and replied, "Okay, but don't use the official name. Use the original link of that edited clip to make the audience feel that it's the mastermind behind it, and that it's not pure enough."

Lin Yiming paused for a moment before replying, "It's not about simple promotion, it's about creating an atmosphere where the audience discovers this great product on their own, right? I understand."

That clip was later featured on the homepage of several regions by the platform, credited to the original poster's account, with no changes to the title or any official labels added; it was simply placed there as is.

During that period, the show's viewership curve rose slightly again, without a dramatic increase, but it remained steadily at a higher level than before.

Luo Jinnian later received an email from an independent film critic he didn't know overseas. The email contained only one sentence: "I only watched the show after that edit went viral. After watching it, I thought that the reason that edit went viral was because it accurately captured the core essence of the show—the beauty of the narrative itself. This kind of quality is rare in any market."

After reading the email, Luo Jinnian did not reply. Instead, he forwarded it to Lin Yiming and then logged out of his email account.

During that time, he also noticed something else. He saw a post on a domestic forum asking, "Is 'The Magpie Murder Case' more popular overseas than in China?" Someone replied, "I don't know if it's popular or not, but the opening sequence definitely went viral abroad first." Another person commented, "This shows the editor made the right cut, and it also shows the show itself can support that editing." When he scrolled to the third page of the post, he saw someone post a trend chart of popularity on overseas platforms. The curve was stable, without major fluctuations, but there were significant spikes at certain points in time, one of which corresponded precisely to the release date of that edited video. He didn't reply to that post.

One evening, as he passed by the old bookstore near the school gate, the poster for "The Magpie Murder Case" was still in the glass window, but next to it was a small handwritten card. The handwriting was that of the bookstore owner, which read: "Recently, some readers have asked if I have any recommendations similar to 'The Magpie Murder Case.' I've compiled a list and posted it in the store. Feel free to come in and take a look if you're interested." Luo Jinnian stood in front of the window for a while and saw a handwritten sentence in the lower right corner of the card: "What makes a story memorable is often what's outside the story itself." He stood there for a few seconds, then turned and walked away.

That night, Luo Jinnian sat in his rented room and went through the contents of the "Overseas Feedback" folder from beginning to end.

He scrolled to the link to the opening sequence, looked at it again, then closed the page and opened a new document. A line appeared in the header: "Global Editing Competition, First Draft." He paused for a moment below that line, then began typing.

What he wanted to do was not just capitalize on the momentum to promote "The Magpie Murder Case" again—he wanted to make this a reusable...

A channel that can be accessed by more people and more works. A global editing competition using early spring cultural works as its source material, with no language or platform restrictions, allowing individual entries, and ultimately selecting one work to receive a million-dollar prize. This is not a small amount, but Luo Jinnian felt it was well worth it after doing the math.

What it bought was not just a piece of content, but a continuously operating creative network spontaneously formed by countless creators.

The next day, he sent the proposal to Lin Yiming. Lin Yiming replied several hours later after reading it: "Are you sure you want to spend a million US dollars on this?" Luo Jinnian replied: "A million US dollars is just a gimmick. The real cost is the subsequent operation and execution, but the subsequent benefits are long-term and cumulative."

Lin Yiming was silent for a moment before replying with a longer message: "You need a team to execute this plan, including competition design, judging criteria, platform integration, legal compliance, and most importantly, the global distribution and subsequent usage rights of the entries. I have people on my hands; if you need, I can assemble an execution team."

Luo Jinnian replied with a single word: "Okay."

The competition's plan was finalized in three weeks. The framework included several key elements: a media library containing clips from previously aired works, including official clean-up footage and soundtrack snippets; participants could then create their own edits based on this material, ultimately submitting a short edit of no more than five minutes. Judging criteria were divided into two categories: technical skill and creativity, with equal weight given to each. The judging panel was a cross-regional committee composed of independent film critics and creators from various regions. The total prize money was one million US dollars, with the first-place winner receiving half a million dollars, and the remainder distributed among the top five winners.

The competition announcement was simultaneously published on Early Spring Culture's official domestic channels and its newly established overseas account. Lin Yiming had people post it on several mainstream creative platforms at the same time. Within a week of the announcement being released, the number of applicants exceeded Luo Jinnian's expectations. Creators from North America, Europe, Southeast Asia, Japan, and South Korea participated, and some even attached links to their previous works in their emails.

In the second week after the registration opened, Luo Jinnian received a message from Lin Yiming: "The judges received a submission from a Japanese creator. He used the opening sequence footage of 'The Magpie Murder Case' to create a three-minute black-and-white silent film-style piece with no background music, only visuals and subtitles. He called it 'Window and Door'."

Luo Jinnian clicked on the video. The scene began with the window of the old Shikumen building, the camera slowly zooming in, passing through the glass into the study, and stopping at an open manuscript on the desk. The handwriting was the one from the props team, blurry, as if seen through a thin mist. Then the scene switched to a modern timeline, with the same sky outside the office's floor-to-ceiling windows, the angle of light different, but the metal frame of the window perfectly overlapped with the wooden frame from the Republican era, like window panes from two different eras superimposed on the same coordinate system.

After reading it once, Luo Jinnian didn't close it immediately. He read it again, then downloaded it and put it into a newly created folder named "Competition Submission".