Chapter 527: Hollywood, Your King Has Arrived

The two of them fell silent for a few seconds.

“I’ll go ask the actors if we can renegotiate their fees. Maybe we can switch to a profit-sharing model?” Del Toro said. “The fees for the male and female leads alone are over 15 million. If we could change that part to a cut of the profits…”

“It’s worth a try.”

Sarah Kelly said tentatively, “I heard a rumor—can’t say if it’s true—that Li Wei is on hiatus because he’s just too dominant. They say the NFL Alliance doesn’t want him playing, and that the league and sponsors paid a hefty sum to get him to sit out.”

“I’ll try to contact him tomorrow,” Del Toro said, frowning. “If he’s willing to revise his compensation package, we might be able to start filming while we finalize the details.”

Sarah Kelly froze for a second, then turned to Del Toro. “You’d better not come to me halfway through production saying the budget’s run out, forcing me to add more.”

“Why would I do that?” Del Toro said, running a hand through his hair, looking a little sheepish.

…

「The next morning.」

On the villa terrace at the Bel Air Hotel, sunlight filtered through the palm leaves, dappling the white tablecloth. The air smelled of fresh orange juice and toast.

Li Wei poked at a piece of bacon with his fork while scrolling through his phone with his other hand.

The entertainment headlines were all about him today.

TMZ touted him as “Hollywood’s New King.”

Deadline said his acting was “as stunning as his skills on the field.”

Yesterday, Page Six was saying Del Toro’s career was past its prime; today, they were calling him “a director with a keen eye for gems.”

Vanity Fair published a new column titled, “Watch Out, Hollywood, Your King Has Arrived.”

“Just yesterday they were calling you Hollywood’s graveyard,” Don Quixote said with a smile, sitting across from him. “Today, you’re Hollywood’s new wunderkind.”

“It’s all about the clicks,” Li Wei said, taking a bite of toast. “They’ll print whatever’s most outrageous.”

“Xiaojin was on the phone all night yesterday, practically worried to death,” Don Quixote said, spreading butter on his toast. “She was planning to have all those press releases taken down without telling you.”

Li Wei pictured Jin Heon’s delicate face, imagining her with dark circles under her eyes, making calls across a three-hour time difference. He couldn’t help but shake his head, caught between amusement and exasperation.

“But once she realized most of the coverage was positive, she didn’t interfere,” Don Quixote remarked. “She’s such a diligent kid.”

“She is,” Li Wei mumbled, his mouth full. “She manages the entire supply chain, the distributors, and the headquarters staff for the LW Drinks division. It’s incredibly hard work.”

“You’ve got some nerve,” Don Quixote said. “You’re the CEO of LW Drinks. Have you even met anyone from the finance department?”

Li Wei coughed, ducking his head and going back to scrolling on his phone.

However, in stark contrast to the media’s fawning praise, Li Wei’s fans had the opposite reaction.

The comment sections were surprisingly unanimous: everyone thought the media had been paid off by Li Wei.

“100% paid articles. I’d bet my monthly salary on it.”

“The deep pockets of Netflix are at it again.”

“Please, Li Wei, come back and play football.”

“I support you, Li Wei, but you’d better not waste my movie ticket money like LeBron did.”

“The guy above is an idiot. Netflix is funding this movie, it’s only going to be on streaming.”

“It’s strange this time,” Don Quixote said, taking a sip of coffee. “It used to be the sports media trashing you and your fans defending you. Now it’s the reverse.”

“It’s their way of showing love,” Li Wei shrugged. “They’ll see when the movie comes out, anyway.”

“Assuming you get the role,” Don Quixote said.

Li Wei didn’t answer, just kept eating his breakfast.

‘Hollywood is so unpredictable,’ he thought. ‘I don’t have any network or connections here. My only contact is Jason Miller, an outreach producer from NBC, and I’m just borrowing that connection.’

Just then, Don Quixote’s phone rang.

“Hello, is this Mr. Don Quixote Cervantes?” a woman’s voice asked on the other end. “I’m the casting director for Director Del Toro’s team. We met yesterday.”

“Speaking,” Don Quixote said, giving Li Wei a meaningful look and pointing at his phone.

“Director Del Toro would like to speak with Mr. Li Wei in person,” the casting director said. “I was wondering if you two are available today.”

“When and where?”

“At 2 PM, if that works for you,” she paused, “at the Huntington Library in Pasadena.”

「2 PM.」

There were hardly any tourists in the rear garden of the Huntington Library.

Del Toro was sitting alone on a courtyard bench, without his casting director or assistant.

“Good afternoon,” Li Wei said as he and Don Quixote approached. “I’ve never been here before.”

“I don’t like going to noisy places when I’m by myself,” Del Toro said with a smile. “My favorite thing is to just sit here for a while.”

“This place… has a very Chinese feel,” Li Wei said, looking around. “Makes me feel like I’ve been transported somewhere else.”

“The culture of the Celestial Dynasty is so rich. The architectural design is full of aesthetic beauty and gives me a lot of inspiration,” Del Toro said with a smile, gesturing for Li Wei to sit. “Please, have a seat, Mr. Li Wei. We have some things to discuss.”

“Are you going to give me the good news or the bad news first?” Li Wei asked jokingly.

“A bit of both,” Del Toro chuckled. “The good news is that most of us want you to be the male lead in this film.”

“And the bad news is—”

“The bad news is that we’ve run into a situation with the project’s funding,” he said, wringing his hands. “One of our investors has… a difference of opinion… regarding the current casting direction.”

“Howard West?” Li Wei had done some digging on the project beforehand.

“It is… He’s taking a very hard line. If we cast you, he’ll pull his funding,” Del Toro explained. “And if he does that, our budget will fall short. So, I need to know if you would be open to a revised contract—a lower fixed fee in exchange for a percentage of the box office.”

“What are the specific changes?” Li Wei asked.

“The fixed fee would drop from 10 million to 2 million,” Del Toro said. “But we’d give you 8% of the net box office revenue.”

‘Li Wei did a quick calculation. The net revenue share is the cut after the distributor and theaters take their fees. Since Netflix is a streaming platform without a theatrical run, the ‘net’ would be about 50% of the total revenue. So, his 8% would effectively be 4% of the overall gross.’

‘In other words, if the film grossed over 200 million USD, his cut would be the same as his original fee.’

“And if I accept this proposal,” Li Wei said, not agreeing just yet, “will the project be able to move forward as planned?”

Del Toro hesitated, then gave a wry smile and held up his hands.

“To be honest,” he said, his voice dropping a little, “even if you accept the profit-sharing deal, we’ll still have a significant funding gap.”

“How significant are we talking?”

“Significant enough that I might have to cut at least a quarter of our planned on-location shoots,” Del Toro said. “If the budget’s not there, I’ll have to use CGI instead.”

Li Wei’s eyebrows shot up.

‘That’s not going to work. What if they cut the on-location scenes and the system doesn’t count it?’

“Just tell me how much you’re short,” he said. “Give me a number.”

“It’s not a small sum,” Del Toro said, shaking his head. “At least 50 million USD.”

Then, as he watched Li Wei, his own mouth fell slightly agape, a strange expression creeping onto his face.