Life countdown begins, ice queen bursts into security room

That night, Xu Qingya was determined to get revenge for what she had done the day before.

The bedroom air conditioner was set to 20 degrees Celsius, and cold air kept blowing out of the vents, but the room temperature just wouldn't come down.

Jiang Fan lay flat, his hands locked to the wrought iron railing at the head of the bed by the metal handcuffs that had been retrieved.

Xu Qingya was wearing a silk eye mask that she usually used when she slept.

With vision deprived, the sensitivity of other senses increases dramatically.

The clattering of metal chains, the rustling of fabric, and the rapid breathing from above intertwined, pushing the atmosphere to an extremely tense climax.

Xu Qingya maintained an aloof attitude throughout the evening.

She was wearing that tight black leather outfit, with the zipper all the way down.

Sweat trickled down his chin and dripped onto Jiang Fan's chest.

"Your Majesty," Jiang Fan's Adam's apple bobbed, "you're getting slower and slower."

Xu Qingya gritted her teeth, supporting herself with her hands on either side of Jiang Fan, but the movement of her waist became increasingly difficult.

This kind of dominance sounds impressive, but in reality, it's an extremely physically demanding task.

The two of them continued their rivalry.

Half an hour later.

Xu Qingya's breathing became completely disordered, and her movements stopped.

She lay limply against Jiang Fan's chest, her leather jacket soaked with sweat, sticking stickily to her skin, feeling stuffy and hot.

"I'm not playing anymore." She buried her face in Jiang Fan's neck and mumbled, her voice filled with a deep sense of frustration.

"Want to try again?" Jiang Fan tilted his head. "I'm ready to confess."

"Summoning ghosts, my foot." Xu Qingya snorted irritably and reached for the small key on the bedside table.

After a series of soft metallic clanging sounds, the handcuffs clicked open.

Jiang Fan flexed his wrists, then ripped off the blindfold covering his eyes and tossed it onto the carpet.

His gaze fell on Xu Qingya's flushed cheeks and messy hair.

"It's my turn."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Two hours later.

The bedroom was so quiet that only the sound of breathing could be heard.

Xu Qingya didn't even have the strength to turn over, so she lay face down on the pillow pretending to be dead.

Jiang Fan leaned against the headboard and pulled the blanket over her waist.

After more than ten minutes, Xu Qingya finally recovered.

She rolled over, habitually draping one leg over Jiang Fan and pressing her face against his arm.

"Are you really going to make a movie?" she asked with her eyes closed, her voice still a little hoarse.

"Real shot."

Xu Qingya opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Investment? Movies are a bottomless pit. Don't think you can just throw money into it just because you wrote a few hit songs. There's a lot more to it than meets the eye regarding theatrical distribution and screen time."

"I'll pay for it myself," Jiang Fan said, brushing the stray hairs from her cheek.

He's done the math these past few days.

With the copyright revenue from Tencent Music and the income from Shen Nian's songs, he has around 40 million yuan at his disposal.

This amount of money is more than enough to make a low- to medium-budget film in the current Chinese film market.

"Forty million?" Xu Qingya pouted and shifted to a more comfortable position.

What can you do with 40 million? Lu Chuan's film "Fleet of Time" only had a reported investment of 40 million, which is considered a meager budget in the industry. They didn't dare film many big scenes, and the publicity relied on his accumulated connections. You're an outsider; you'd throw money down the drain and not even get a ripple.

Jiang Fan did not refute.

People's understanding of movies in this world is still limited to piling up stars and special effects.

The success of Lu Chuan's youth film is largely due to the market's lack of compelling content, coupled with the boost from its theme song.

"How about I throw some in for you?" Xu Qingya sat up, the blanket slipping down her shoulders to reveal the red marks on her collarbone.

"I still have more than 20 million yuan in spare cash, which is just sitting there anyway."

Jiang Fan glanced at her.

"No need. Just focus on your concert." He casually put his arm around Xu Qingya. "I know what's going on with the movie."

Xu Qingya stared at him for a few seconds, and seeing his resolute attitude, she didn't insist any further.

She lay back down. "Do as you please. I'll support you even if you lose everything."

The next morning, at Jiang Fan's studio.

Li Cheng pushed open the door and walked in, sporting two huge dark circles under his eyes, holding a thick stack of documents in his hand, which he slammed directly onto Jiang Fan's desk.

"The market research report you requested."

Li Cheng pulled out a chair, sat down heavily, picked up the coffee on Jiang Fan's table, and took a big gulp.

"In the past three days, I have gone through all the films that have grossed over 100 million yuan at the box office in the last five years."

Jiang Fan took the document and opened it.

The data is very detailed.

From subject matter classification, investment scale, and cast to distribution channels and final box office conversion rate, the information is presented in a clear and organized manner.

Li Cheng may seem unreliable at times, but he's definitely a capable worker.

"To sum it up, there are currently only two types of businesses that are most profitable in the market," Li Cheng said, holding up two fingers.

"The first type is youth romance films made with popular celebrities. They have low costs and quick returns. Just find a few popular idols, write a melodramatic script, shoot it casually, and the fans can push the box office to over 100 million."

"Lu Chuan's 'Fleet of Time' is a typical example, but he was lucky to have your theme song, which forcibly boosted his reputation."

Li Cheng lowered his fingers and changed his posture.

"The second type is a big-budget sci-fi film. It involves casting a bunch of veteran actors and relying on visual impact to boost box office sales. But this is also very risky."

"Last year's Spring Festival film, 'The Battle of Shanghai,' had a budget of 500 million yuan, with 150 million yuan spent on special effects alone. They hired four top celebrities, but it only grossed less than 200 million yuan at the box office. They lost everything."

He stared into Jiang Fan's eyes. "Given our current circumstances, a youth campus is the best option."

Jiang Fan closed the file and pushed it aside.

I want to choose comedy.

There was a three-second silence in the office.

Li Cheng almost spat out his coffee.

He coughed twice. "Comedy? Are you crazy?"

Jiang Fan leaned back in his chair.

"The comedy film market has been a complete mess these past few years." Li Cheng slammed his coffee down on the table. "Apart from a few veteran comedians who can carry the box office, anyone else who tries it is doomed."

"Audiences' tastes have changed a lot. Jokes are flying all over the internet. Before you've even finished setting up the jokes in your movie, the audience can already guess where the punchline is. Who would still want to spend tens of dollars to go to the cinema to watch your performance?"

"That's because they filmed it badly."

"Being bad is one thing, but the market environment is another," Li Cheng said anxiously.

"The hardest part of comedy is the script. It has to be funny, but also logical. These days, it's practically impossible to find screenwriters who can write good comedy scripts. What are you going to use to make a film?"

I wrote the script myself.

Li Cheng opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything for a long time.

He looked at the twenty-year-old man in front of him.

Writing a movie script? Or the most difficult comedy to work on?

"Jiang Fan, this isn't how you cross over into a new field," Li Cheng earnestly advised. "You're riding high in the music industry right now, why wade into this mess? Forty million is no small sum; it's your entire fortune."

"Help me register a film and television company." Jiang Fan tapped his fingers on the table.

"The name will be... Spark Media."

Li Cheng looked at him and sighed.

He knew he couldn't persuade them otherwise.

"Okay. The boss said so, I'll run the errand."