The film began.
At first, the theater was quiet, filled only with the soft rustle of shifting seats and the faint glow of the screen.
Five minutes later, the whispers began.
"The opening feels a little slow…"
"The cabin set looks nice though. Very warm."
"But isn't this supposed to be a science fiction film?"
"Why are they all just sitting there talking?"
The audience's patience was clearly being tested.
For many of them, this was not what they had expected at all.
There were no explosions.
No spaceships.
No futuristic visuals.
Just a group of people gathered in a cozy wooden cabin, talking.
Fifteen minutes later, the atmosphere in the theater began to shift.
"…Wait, what are they talking about?"
"Why do I feel like my brain isn't working fast enough?"
"Did he just say he's immortal?"
"No… did he just imply he's Jesus?"
"Shut up and keep watching!"
The whispers that had once carried boredom slowly transformed into tension and confusion.
The audience had begun to lean forward.
By the sixty-minute mark, the entire theater had fallen into complete silence.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
If the lights had been turned on at that moment, every face in the room would have revealed the same expression—
shock.
Tension.
Disbelief.
Awe.
The film had dragged everyone into its strange, absurd, yet frighteningly believable philosophical storm.
No one could pull themselves out anymore.
Ninety minutes later, the film reached its conclusion.
John's voice slowly echoed through the hall in the final monologue.
Outside the cabin, the truck disappeared little by little into the endless snowstorm.
Then—
the screen faded to black.
The lights came on.
Yet the theater remained silent.
The silence was so complete that even breathing seemed unusually loud.
Luo Zheng slowly stood up.
His gaze swept across the audience.
Some looked stunned.
Some were still deep in thought.
Some stared blankly at the screen as if their minds had yet to return.
The moment he saw those faces—
he knew.
The film had succeeded.
No.
It had exceeded success.
The first person to recover was Zhang Yimou.
He abruptly stood up and began applauding with force.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
The sound shattered the silence.
The next second—
the entire theater erupted.
Thunderous applause exploded like a storm.
Cheers rose from every direction.
People stood up one after another, their voices overlapping.
"Director!"
"William!"
"Get on stage!"
"We need answers!"
The audience was completely fired up.
They had too many questions.
Too many thoughts.
Too many emotions trapped inside after what they had just watched.
Beside him, Xu Jinglei smiled proudly and gently reached up to straighten Luo Zheng's tie.
That intimate gesture did not escape Dong Jie's eyes.
For some reason, the figure of the man in front of her seemed to grow taller and farther away at the same time.
"Mom, look! Cousin is amazing!"
Liu Xixi tugged excitedly at Liu Xiaoli's sleeve, her face full of admiration.
Although she still didn't fully understand the film's meaning, that didn't affect her excitement in the slightest.
Liu Xiaoli, however, stood there in silence.
Her expression was stiff.
Only now did she truly understand where Luo Zheng's confidence had come from.
Why he had dared to confront the shareholders.
Why he had dared to make such a dangerous bet.
This film—
was his answer.
And it was flawless.
Under countless burning gazes, Luo Zheng slowly walked onto the stage.
He did not call the actors or the production team up with him.
Because he understood one thing very clearly.
At this moment—
the audience only wanted him.
He raised both hands slightly.
The hall gradually quieted.
Even then, countless hands remained raised in the crowd.
The enthusiasm was obvious.
After briefly introducing himself and offering thanks, Luo Zheng's gaze swept across the room.
Then it landed precisely on a woman seated in the back.
The president of the Berlin Film Festival jury—
Mira Nair.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"Let this beautiful lady ask the first question."
A murmur spread through the audience.
Mira Nair stood up with visible delight as a microphone was quickly handed to her.
"Hello, Director William. I'm Mira Nair."
The moment she said her name, several people in the room visibly reacted.
Gasps spread among film distributors and industry professionals.
They clearly hadn't expected the jury president herself to be sitting among the audience for a non-competition screening.
Even Luo Zheng had not expected this.
But fortunately, he had prepared beforehand and immediately recognized her.
A pleasant surprise.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Mira continued.
"I came because of your description in the festival catalog."
She smiled faintly.
"At first, I thought this low-budget film was simply using marketing gimmicks."
She paused.
"I was wrong."
Then, to everyone's surprise, she gave a slight bow toward the stage.
A wave of murmurs spread again.
Luo Zheng quickly smiled and gestured that it wasn't necessary.
Mira lifted the microphone again.
"I want to ask—how did you come up with such a brilliant and deeply unsettling science fiction film?"
"To be honest, I'm still not sure I should even call it science fiction."
"It feels like philosophy."
"Like theology."
"Like a cognitive explosion."
"The structure is so precise it feels mechanical."
"What inspired it?"
Luo Zheng smiled and lifted the microphone.
"I completely understand how Ms. Mira feels."
He paused, then said with a half-smile:
"To be honest, even when I was writing it, I found my own ideas hard to believe."
Laughter instantly filled the hall.
The tension relaxed.
Then his tone gradually turned serious.
"But if I must answer sincerely…"
He lowered his voice slightly.
"It was during the lowest point of my life."
"I was walking alone, looking at the fallen leaves on the street."
"And suddenly I thought—"
"If one person had witnessed primitive humans painting cave walls…"
"…and also lived to see modern art hanging in museums…"
"…how would they describe the history of human civilization?"
"That single thought became the seed of this story."
Silence.
Then—
deafening applause.
The entire hall exploded again.
It was the perfect artistic answer.
Even if it was improvised, it fit the mood so perfectly that the audience was completely satisfied.
Mira shook her head with visible regret.
"What a pity."
"If this film had entered the main competition, I truly believe it would have been a serious contender for the Golden Bear."
Another wave of shock rippled through the hall.
This was an astonishing evaluation.
Whether exaggerated or not, it clearly showed one thing—
she genuinely loved the film.
And that alone was worth gold.
Luo Zheng's eyes brightened slightly.
With those words alone, the price of the film rights had just risen.
After several more questions from the audience—many about the Wolverine reference, the Marvel easter egg, and possible future films—the screening finally came to an end.
As the crowd began to disperse, a large group of film distributors immediately surged forward.
Before Feng Xiaogang and Zhang Yimou could even offer congratulations, Luo Zheng had already called Kevin and Jon over.
He led the distributors straight into the pre-booked meeting room.
The real battle—
was only beginning.
Inside the small conference room, the negotiation atmosphere became intense almost instantly.
One distributor slammed the table.
"What?"
"You want cooperative distribution rights and a twenty-four-hour bidding process?"
"We cannot accept that."
Luo Zheng didn't even blink.
"Then that's unfortunate."
"Perhaps we can cooperate next time."
He directly gestured toward the door.
His attitude was firm.
No room for compromise.
Several companies exchanged glances.
More than half of them immediately left.
In the end, only three remained:
Lionsgate, Focus Features, and Artisan Entertainment.
Luo Zheng divided the world market into five major distribution regions.
Highest bid wins.
After intense negotiation, Lionsgate secured North America and Europe.
Focus took Asia, South America, and Africa.
The contract structure was exceptionally clever.
A guaranteed five million dollars paid upfront.
Non-refundable.
Then a tiered revenue-sharing system.
Under 10 million box office: Marvel receives 20%.
Over 10 million: 30%.
Over 50 million: 40%.
DVD revenue: 30% share.
Most importantly—
the sequel rights.
The derivative rights.
The core IP ownership.
Everything remained firmly in Marvel's hands.
Kevin sat there, utterly stunned.
The more he listened, the more disbelief filled his eyes.
This—
this was how copyrights were supposed to be sold.
Did they sell the copyright?
Yes.
Did they make money?
Absolutely.
But who still owned the soul of the IP?
Marvel.
Always Marvel.
At that moment, only one thought remained in Kevin's mind:
Avi Arad needed to come and learn from the boss properly.
Because this—
this was real business.
This was true strategy.
This was how an empire was built.