Mandei você fazer um filme ruim, como você conseguiu faturar mais de 10 bilhões nas bilheterias?
Fazer três filmes ruins, e daí? Chefe, isso era eu no passado. Agora eu tenho muitas inspirações, garanto que o próximo filme vai dar lucro! Quer que eu vá para a empresa rival? Chefe, se eu for embor
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Beijing, Xingyao Company.
The lazy afternoon sunlight streamed into the office area.
It was lunchtime, and most people were cracking sunflower seeds and chatting idly. Yet, there was one figure hunched over a computer screen, fingers flying over the keyboard in earnest.
“Look at him—he’s probably writing another script, isn’t he?”
“Hah, write as many as you want, it won’t change your luck for flops!”
“Serves him right for trying to snatch the screenwriters’ jobs from us. Now he has no way to shirk responsibility!”
“Who can blame him? Three box office bombs in a row—maybe the big boss doesn’t care, but will Vice President Cheng really let it slide?”
At the next workstation, several female colleagues gossiped as they nibbled on seeds, casting disdainful glances at Qian Lang.
He, however, remained oblivious, head down, fingers tapping rapidly.
Heh, their ridicule was for the original owner of this body. What did it matter to him, a transmigrator?
What mattered most was to quickly transcribe the script swirling in his mind.
Yes, you read that right.
As a transmigrator, Qian Lang had a golden finger.
When he arrived in this world yesterday, he discovered a treasure trove of artistic works hidden in his mind!
The contents were vast and varied—not just classic films and TV, but also high-quality music, novels, manga, and more.
He had truly struck gold!
Heh, in this world, where entertainment was scarce, wouldn’t any random work he produced set the market alight?