Without the slightest surprise, after the second week's update, Bleach continued to slaughter everything in its path.
No one could compete with Bleach for attention. Even if some eccentric celebrity suddenly managed to manufacture another scandal out of thin air, it still would not be enough to pull the internet's eyes away from it.
Compared to the earthquake Alex had created in television and streaming, the film industry looked strangely calm that summer. Almost lifeless.
The opening-week box office numbers said everything.
New Mischief Academy opened with 11.6 million.
Treasure Hunt in the Southern Clouds reached 8.4 million.
A Kiss to Seal Fate barely scraped together 6.1 million.
When Alex saw those titles, he could not help laughing.
What kind of damn opponents were these? They looked less like competitors and more like extras walking into the ring just to get beaten beautifully.
Still, speaking of movies, Alex had been busy recently as well. Over the past few days, he had been reworking the script for the second half of Death Note. The problem was similar to Bleach: both stories that began with the word "death" carried the same strange curse. Their first halves were practically divine, but their second halves gradually started sinking under plot holes, forced conveniences, and decisions that made readers want to grab the author by the collar and shake him awake.
And in that regard, Death Note might have been even worse.
After L's death, Light seemed to lose his brakes completely. Maybe, without a worthy opponent, he had simply become too arrogant. Or maybe L had silently cursed him before leaving the stage. Either way, from that point on, the man's intelligence appeared to take a nosedive, his choices becoming more and more frustrating, cheaper and cheaper with every turn.
Alex had to fix that.
Just then, Nadia, his long-legged little assistant, walked over with an expression far too professional for someone who had lately been taking more and more liberties with him.
"Boss, someone invited you to attend the Golden Crest Awards."
Alex looked up, confused.
"Huh? I don't even have a film nominated. What am I supposed to do there?"
Honestly, the Golden Crest Awards were one of the highest honors in domestic cinema. If one of his own projects had been selected, even if he had no real chance of winning, Alex would still go. Not out of vanity, but because of etiquette. Some things were simply part of the game.
It was like visiting relatives and having an elder offer you a red envelope. You had to politely refuse once before accepting it. Everyone knew the script. Everyone played along.
But he did not even have a film in competition. What was he going there for? To walk the red carpet like some desperate camera-chaser?
Nadia leaned down first and planted a kiss on the side of his face.
Alex froze for a second.
Ever since their relationship had crossed a certain line, this girl had become more and more outrageous. Whenever she found an opening, she took advantage of it. Alex was beginning to feel that he had a moral responsibility to teach this foreign-born little sister exactly how dangerous society could be.
But Nadia's next sentence immediately stopped his wandering hands.
"Sir Hampton personally asked you to go."
This time, Alex had nothing to say.
He could ignore the face of the Golden Crest Awards if he wanted to. But that old heavyweight's face? He had to give it.
For anyone unfamiliar with the man's status, one sentence was enough: he had produced two of the biggest historical epics in the country's film industry. That alone explained his weight. Even in retirement, he remained the kind of figure who could stomp once and make half the movie world tremble.
Even so, Alex still did not understand.
Why would the top elder of the film industry invite someone like him, a man who came from television and streaming?
In mid-July, at night, the Grand Harbor Theater shone like a jewel set beside the sea.
Actresses in expensive gowns stepped onto the red carpet one after another, each of them looking as if she intended to put down roots there. A path that should have taken thirty seconds was being stretched into three minutes, sometimes five, as though every step had to be negotiated with eternity.
It was getting excessive.
"Aizen!"
No one knew who shouted first.
But in the next instant, Alex, who had just stepped out of the car without even bringing a female companion, became the absolute center of the night.
He looked around with a blank expression.
Seriously?
He had only come to show respect to an important invitation. He had no intention of showing off.
Unfortunately, after playing too many characters with the aura of a king, that attribute seemed to have become passive. Wherever he went, the atmosphere automatically treated him as if he were about to conquer the world.
"Director Alex! Long time no see! What a pleasure, what a pleasure!"
Ray Parker, who had now fully transformed into a beloved comedic figure, approached with a smile like a cheerful fat monk. He was the first to come up and clasp Alex's right hand in both of his, shaking it enthusiastically.
At this year's Golden Crest Awards, his film about a romance between men had received nominations.
"Yeah. It has been a while."
As Alex entered with Ray Parker and his wife, several actresses who had clearly come just to borrow some red-carpet shine looked visibly disappointed.
After all, clinging to Alex's thigh was practically the same as taking an elevator straight to the top. Perhaps it was not an absolute consensus across the entire entertainment industry, but in the world of film and television, it was already close to an unwritten law.
Unfortunately for them, even after entering the venue and taking his seat, Alex still remained a piece of sacred monk meat surrounded by hungry demons.
"Hello, Director Alex. I'm Bella Frost…"
And then an especially seductive actress caught his attention.
Alex stared at her for a second.
"You haven't been canceled yet?"
Bella Frost froze.
For a moment, her expression went completely blank.
Good heavens. Was the little emperor of the entertainment industry's mouth always this poisonous?
"Cough, cough… Sorry. Mistook you for someone else."
After realizing what he had said, Alex immediately apologized.
Even so, Bella continued looking at him with a mixture of doubt and suspicion. She had plenty of confidence in how recognizable her face was. She did not think someone like Alex would casually mistake her for another person.
"Director Alex, may I sit beside you?"
"The seat beside me belongs to Sir Hampton. Do you want to sit there?"
Bella fell silent for a moment.
"…Then what about the other side?"
She really did not give up easily.
Alex almost laughed.
As expected of a woman who once claimed she did not need to marry into wealth because she herself was wealth. Just that thickness of skin alone surpassed ninety percent of female stars in the industry.
"Lena, come here."
Alex raised his hand and called Lena, who was standing not far away.
Hearing his almost commanding tone, Lena thought with mild irritation, "You damn dog. You think I'll come just because you told me to? I…"
She came.
Yes. A woman's body could be brutally honest.
"Sorry," Alex said with a perfectly natural shrug. "I already agreed to sit with Lena."
After being rejected twice in a row, Bella could not help doubting herself.
Had her charm declined?
Was Lena really prettier than her?
But after realizing that Alex clearly held some resistance toward her, Bella did not keep pressing her warm face against a cold door. She did not lose her composure either. Instead, she smiled faintly, left behind a soft "Let's keep in touch when you're free," and walked away.
"You used me as a shield?"
Lena sat beside him, a trace of displeasure in her voice.
"Not at all. I just wanted to sit with a beautiful woman. You're much prettier than her."
Alex answered with flawless seriousness.
"Nothing good comes out of a dog's mouth."
Lena said it with disdain, but her eyes had already curved into two satisfied crescents.
By the way, Lena truly had not come just to walk the red carpet. One of the films she had acted in, Blade in the Rain, had received a nomination for Best Editing, and one of her co-stars was nominated for Best Supporting Actor.
Although, to Alex, the most memorable things about that movie were only two absurdly iconic lines, he had to admit that Lena's role in it was still one of the most representative performances in her long list of box office disasters.
"You still think you don't have enough scandals? Flirting again?"
The voice came with a light laugh.
An old man with close-cropped hair and rimless glasses walked over slowly. When the people around saw him, they became even more respectful than they had been when they saw Alex.
It was Sir Hampton, the man who had invited Alex to attend the Golden Crest Awards.
"I just like looking at pretty women. Nothing else. It improves my mood."
Alex answered with his usual loose tongue.
Sitting beside him, Lena, who had been full of reverence toward the old industry titan, could not resist secretly pinching Alex's waist twice.
"You brat."
Sir Hampton laughed and sat down. Shortly afterward, the opening ceremony officially began.
"Do you know how much trouble your series caused domestic films this summer?"
The old man's tone carried a hint of displeasure.
Alex widened his eyes, looking wronged.
"No way, uncle. I'm from the television side. How did I get in the way of the film industry's development?"
Sir Hampton let out a dry chuckle.
"July and August are the protected window for domestic cinema."
Alex blinked.
Ah.
Now he remembered.
To give locally produced films more breathing room, the summer schedule usually limited the screening share of major overseas releases, leaving more space for domestic productions. Because of that, July and August were also known as the protected season for national films.
That was exactly why so many movies crammed themselves into those two months.
But once Bleach arrived, it scared those domestic film producers so badly that they fled like they had seen a wildfire. No one wanted to collide head-on with that fever. Even the new comedy from one of the country's most popular stars had been pushed back to the October holiday period. As for the others, there was even less need to mention them.
"My mistake, my mistake. I forgot about that. I'll pay attention next time."
Alex made an apologetic gesture, without looking the slightest bit remorseful.
On the other side, Lena watched everything with shining eyes.
How to describe it?
It was the feeling of seeing her absurdly capable boyfriend chatting casually with a major industry tycoon as if they stood on equal ground. For a second, she almost felt like the heroine of a modern romance novel, sitting beside the man who made the world turn.
"Hmph. Forget it. In any case, there aren't many recent films I'm optimistic about."
Sir Hampton snorted, then looked sideways at Alex.
"So, where's your movie?"
Although he usually did not pay close attention to the world of television and streaming, the noise surrounding Bleach was simply too huge. Anyone alive on this planet would have heard at least a little about it, whether they wanted to or not. Sir Hampton was no exception.
And he had also watched Death Note.
Alex's eyes lit up.
"My Death Note can be released in domestic theaters?"
"Keep dreaming!"
Sir Hampton cursed without hesitation.
"That thing could never be screened here."
Alex shrugged.
Fine. He had been naive after all.
"Write me a script later and let me take a look. None of that gloomy nonsense with monsters, killers, mind games, and ghosts. Write something even children can watch."
The old man spoke impatiently, but there was obvious trust beneath his tone.
He already understood Alex's talent.
Of course he did. Without talent, could anyone create a work like Bleach, something capable of setting the entire world on fire? Could anyone make his first film reach such a monstrous box office result?
The problem was that everything Alex wrote had a strange flavor. It was sharp, dark, unsettling, and at times almost wicked.
Especially after watching Death Note, Sir Hampton had reached one firm conclusion: if Alex did not adjust his style, his scripts would never pass certain doors.
To treat a serious illness, sometimes one had to prescribe harsh medicine.
So write one, kid. Write something even a child can watch.
Something even a child could watch?
Alex's mind instinctively jumped to two absurd titles: Big Bear, I'm Coming In and Boiling Goat, Pleasant Goat Has No Strength Left; Hurry Up and Help Him Push.
In the very next second, however, he shook his head hard and crushed those thoughts.
No.
Absolutely not.
That was not something children could endure.
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