Chapter 47: A 10% Cut? I Can't Just Teach You All Marketing for Free!

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I asked my mother why the mountain people live in the mountains.
What did your mother say?
She said that the mountain people live there just like putting feet into shoes—it’s comfortable.

After the business deal was settled, Ma Xun wasn’t eager to leave Hunan. Instead, he followed Kang Jianmin to the countryside. He saw the verdant mountains, the crystal-clear river, and the arched bridge spanning across it. Standing atop the bridge, a few lines of dialogue came to his mind—like the conversation between son and father in the film.

The film, “That Mountain, That Man, That Dog,” never gave the family’s names—only Father, Mother, and Son. Interestingly, the dog had a name: Lao Er.

“Mr. Ma, isn’t the scenery here beautiful?” Kang Jianmin, who had been quiet before, only spoke after Ma Xun had admired the views for a while.

Ma Xun nodded and couldn’t help but ask, “Director Kang, why insist on making this film?”

It was a strangely timed question, but in the moment, it made perfect sense. Kang Jianmin had just become the head of the Xiaoxiang Studio and was well aware of its precarious state—it wouldn’t be surprising if it shut down one day soon.

When Ma Xun approached him, he was straightforward: “I’m investing in this film because of a project from Director Ouyang...”

Kang Jianmin didn’t hesitate or equivocate. “Ouyang is an old friend; we were colleagues in the cultural department. Leave it to me.”

Ma Xun was equally upfront, revealing his resources: a six-million-yuan check, one million as startup capital, and room for further funding talks. Actually, just that one million was enough to get started.

Kang Jianmin was ambitious—after all, Xiaoxiang was a major domestic studio. The studio had to contribute at least a million too, hoping for a bigger share. That meant two million in total. “That Mountain, That Man, That Dog” could be made!

Now Ma Xun asked why Kang insisted on this project. Kang smiled and pointed to the distant hills. “Mr. Ma, look at this scenery—isn’t it beautiful?”

“Beautiful.”

“It’s not even the most beautiful yet. In summer, the mountains turn even greener, like emeralds.” Kang’s face beamed with joy.

“To capture Hunan’s magnificent mountains and waters in a film—that’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

So that was his reason for pushing the project? Ma Xun chuckled. “Director Kang, you speak well, but it sounds like your studio is on the brink of collapse.”

Kang burst out laughing. “Maybe yes, maybe no. Who knows?” There was a trace of bitterness in his words.

The mainland’s film market was bleak, and established studios like Xiaoxiang were struggling to survive.

Ma Xun shifted gears. “Director Kang, I have to ask you—do you want this film to make money?”

Kang was taken aback but quickly replied, “Who makes films if not to earn money?”

Ma Xun expected that answer and pressed further. “Then why did you just say those things about the beauty of the mountains and art?”

Kang laughed. “I was speaking from the artistic perspective.”

That explanation seemed reasonable.

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But Ma Xun shook his head. “Director Kang, I understand what you mean, but haven’t you realized the problem with you and studios like Xiaoxiang?”

Kang was stunned. “Please, Mr. Ma, explain it to me.”

Politeness mattered—this man was a benefactor.

Ma Xun dropped the pretense and spoke sharply: “As the film’s initiator, why do you prioritize ‘art’ over profit?”

Kang was shaken to the core. “Prioritize profit? Is that right?”

Ma Xun’s tone was icy. “That’s why your studio, Xiaoxiang, and others like it are at constant risk of collapse!”

Those words cut deeply—like a wound to the heart.

Kang’s forehead was slick with sweat. Ma Xun wasn’t finished.

“I’ll ask again. When ‘That Mountain, That Man, That Dog’ is finished and ready for release, have you thought about how to develop the market? How will you handle early market promotion?”

Seeing Kang pale and weak, Ma Xun continued, “Also, have you considered what the film’s selling point is? Director Kang!!”

Ma Xun’s words nearly overwhelmed Kang, who nearly fainted. Fortunately, Ma Xun steadied him.

When Kang recovered, he confessed, “Mr. Ma, I... I’m ashamed. We’ve never thought about market development or selling points!”

Ma Xun smiled. “Director Kang, I knew that all along. And it’s not really your fault.”

Kang was puzzled but oddly moved—this man seemed to understand him.

Now Kang earnestly and humbly asked, “Mr. Ma, I’ve heard of your capabilities in the capital. Please teach me how to make this film profitable.”

This was exactly what Ma Xun wanted!

Directors like Kang weren’t unique. Chinese cinema had been losing money for years across the entire industry. The entire market was in decline—each year worse than the last.

Although one or two films might stand out annually, that was the exception.

Many dreamed of profitable films, but veterans like Kang, entrenched in the old system, never truly considered profit during production.

Some might find that hard to believe, but it was true!

Previously, studios never needed to cater to audiences or develop markets to make money—it was always that way.

When Ma Xun studied film, he learned an extraordinary case: “That Mountain, That Man, That Dog.”

“Our film is still in pre-production. Next, there will be a casting contest. Shooting won’t start until summer. The earliest release will be the end of this year, possibly next year. This means we have time for market development.”

Ma Xun’s clear logic struck a chord with Kang.

“Yes! Exactly!”

Then Ma Xun outlined specifics:

“Since the film isn’t made yet, we should start with the original novel. We need to invest a little to promote the author, Peng Jianming. Collect some of his other works into a short story collection—five or six stories. Then negotiate with bookstores to place his books prominently and hold multiple book signings.”

“This... this...” Kang felt overwhelmed.

“We’re making a film, not novels. Why do this?”

Ma Xun sighed, massaging his forehead. Kang finally realized and apologized, “Mr. Ma, I’m sorry. We’ve never done anything like this before—it’s too advanced for us!”

Ma Xun pressed harder: “If you don’t listen, I’ll withdraw the investment now.”

“Listen! Of course, I’ll listen!”

No matter what, he couldn’t lose the investment. Kang’s reaction amused Ma Xun.

What Ma Xun described was a case study he had learned. Many knew of the film’s huge success in Japan, but few knew how the Japanese distributors achieved it.

They didn’t rush to screen it; they patiently developed the market first—that is, the methods Ma Xun described.

Although “That Mountain, That Man, That Dog” didn’t make money domestically, it taught Chinese filmmakers an invaluable lesson.

Japanese distributors were masters of cultural IP, starting with promoting the original author Peng Jianming before eventually screening the film at Iwanami Theater.

By contrast, Chinese filmmakers had no prior experience—completely blank.

Fortunately, they learned from experience and studied carefully.

Veterans like Kang didn’t know how to do market development, but Ma Xun’s generation could learn from this case straight out of textbooks—avoiding the pitfalls of their predecessors.

Now that Ma Xun was here, he was determined to teach Kang.

But he couldn’t do it for free.

“Director Kang.”

“Yes, Mr. Ma, what else?”

“It’s not a trick. Since this is our first collaboration and your studio hasn’t done this before, the risk is huge. So here’s what I propose: your one million goes fully into market development. If the film loses money at release, I’ll cover the one million shortfall. But if it profits...”

“Could it be...”

Kang feared Ma Xun might take everything.

But Ma Xun was fair.

“We split profits 90/10. This time you’re learning. You earn 10% and gain experience—that’s good, isn’t it?”

Kang nearly fainted again, feeling like he might fall into the river.

He had thought Ma Xun was a kind man teaching him market skills, but now... he was ruthless!

Yet, what choice did he have?

“Mr. Ma, I’ll follow your lead!”

Ma Xun saw the determination in Kang’s clenched teeth but paid it no mind.

“Director Kang, you’ll thank me someday.”

The two shook hands on the bridge.

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