Chapter 75: Everyday Chatter

The "Dialogue" program concluded perfectly, with Gu Zhi and the two guests engaging in a profound exchange, fully embodying the spirit of "dialogue." Everyone holds opinions different from others, and the clash of thoughts and perspectives is the very essence of the show. If it were merely a mechanical question-and-answer session, the program would truly be unqualified.

This time, though there were some disagreements, both parties remained restrained. No one lost their composure or acted unreasonably. It became a valuable experience of mutual exchange between the older and younger generations of scholars, benefiting both sides.

After the recording, before leaving, Gu Zhi took the opportunity to have a brief conversation with a deputy director of the finance channel. He openly expressed his hope that, during editing, his promotional remarks would not be cut out.

The deputy director readily agreed on the spot. Gu Zhi didn’t take it too seriously—after all, it was better to ask than not. Whether it would remain in the final broadcast was another matter.

This episode of "Dialogue" was scheduled to air on Sunday, December 24th.

On the day of the broadcast, at 9:52 p.m., Gu Zhi sat in front of the television on time, ready to watch his own performance carefully. After all, it was his first appearance on such a serious program.

As it turned out, he barely managed to sit through it. The first fifteen minutes were filled with the two guests and the host rambling and chatting. If he hadn’t known he would appear later, he might have changed the channel within the first minute.

How could such a program possibly have any ratings? Even Gu Zhi’s fans, wanting to support him and boost the ratings, would find it hard to endure those insipid fifteen minutes.

A normal person wouldn’t stay up at night just to watch a not-so-attractive host and two middle-aged men idly chatting. If anyone didn’t switch the channel in the face of such a scene, they’d likely fall asleep on the sofa.

After a long fifteen minutes, Gu Zhi finally appeared on screen.

The whole program was about fifty-five minutes long. The director’s team had indeed cut quite a bit, removing all the unintentional coarse language and offhand remarks.

Thankfully, the promotional lines he had cleverly inserted were left untouched, much to Gu Zhi’s satisfaction after watching.

The next day, he called the finance channel to inquire about the ratings from the previous night. The staff was surprised and exclaimed that it was double the usual figure.

Wow! That high?

Gu Zhi was quietly excited. He hadn’t expected his influence to be so great, that so many people would watch this dreadful program just for him—true loyal fans indeed.

He then asked for the specific number.

0.53...

This was what they called doubling? How could he possibly be so happy about such a tiny figure!

His briefly elated heart instantly fell into the abyss. With a couple of grumbles, he hung up decisively.

So the original rating was only 0.26. What meaning was there in doubling such a number? Even the decimal points on some TV dramas were higher than this. That this show hadn’t been canceled was astonishing; no wonder the central station later changed the host.

Gu Zhi realized that appearing on this program was essentially a waste; at most, it might have made a bunch of elderly men aware of him. The movie advertisement certainly wouldn’t be effective either—all his effort was in vain.

Sighing, he consoled himself. At least he hadn’t come away empty-handed. In a few years, these programs would probably be uploaded online by the central station, and by then, people would get to see what he was like when he was young.

After all, he was now someone who had appeared on national television.

The "Dialogue" incident passed quietly. Perhaps because it involved the central station, gossip media hardly reported on it; the hot topic remained the Golden Horse Awards incident.

By the end of December, post-production for "My Sassy Girl" was finally complete, and Lu Chuan’s work was finished. He was barely needed for the promotional activities.

Next, the China Film Group organized a screening, just like with the previous film, inviting only insiders and a few leaders from the broadcasting authorities.

Getting the approval seal was essential. There was nothing particularly controversial in the film, except for a few scenes at the beginning where the male lead, Liu Qian, was shirtless or showing his backside while bathing. For safety, Gu Zhi had even instructed Tong Dawei to cover himself with a washbasin during filming.

The domestic attitude toward nudity in films had always been ambiguous. For women, the approach was almost always absolute—being sexy was fine, but nothing explicit would ever be shown. For men, the attitude was less clear. Appearing shirtless was common, and even showing one’s backside wasn’t unheard of. In Stephen Chow’s "Kung Fu," there was a classic half-exposed character, and in Fan’s "A Certain Fruit," though much was cut before release, some of Tong Dawei’s more risqué scenes still made it in, though the film was soon banned.

In short, standards were far more lenient for men than women, so Gu Zhi wasn’t too worried. With the China Film Group coordinating, there was no doubt about passing the review.

After the screening, the company’s leaders were clearly not optimistic about the film. Most felt the female lead was too unruly, lacking the qualities of a proper young woman—echoing Han Sanping’s reaction upon reading the script.

But there was nothing to be done. The core audience for "My Sassy Girl" was never the older generation. Gu Zhi never expected every demographic to like it.

Attracting the new generation of young people, especially women, was enough. They were the ones most willing to spend money, and would soon hold the biggest share of online influence.

The release date for the film had long been set—February 14th next year, Valentine’s Day. Subtracting the half-month to a month for the New Year holidays, there was about a month and a half left for promotion.

After the screening, "My Sassy Girl" began to dominate entertainment news, with Gu Zhi’s controversial persona and the widespread popularity of the theme song "I Believe" ensuring effective publicity.

During the promotion, Happy Camp invited Gu Zhi to appear again.

Having experienced such highly scripted variety shows once before, he felt it was a waste of his life—too boring—so he declined.

Of course, just because he didn’t go didn’t mean others couldn’t. Gu Zhi had Liu Qi arrange for Gao Yuanyuan, Tong Dawei, and Tang Wei to travel to Hunan to record the show.

Those three were the busiest during this period, appearing on everything from Happy Camp to Beijing TV’s "Joyful Gathering," Anhui’s "Super Winner," Enlight Media’s "Chinese Entertainment Report," SOHU’s Entertainment Exclusive, and just about every well-known variety show out there.

Tang Wei, having performed the theme song "I Believe," had already become quite famous, and Gu Zhi intended to make good use of her newfound popularity.

Besides, she couldn’t just stay at school forever; increased exposure was essential for a normal star’s career.

Gu Zhi was beginning to feel noticeably short-handed. He had no assistant, no agency; the same was true for Tang Wei and Gao Yuanyuan—they were all operating solo. Luckily, since the film was a China Film Group project, Liu Qi was able to pull some staff from the company to help, otherwise it would’ve been impossible to handle all the work.

“Perhaps it’s time to start a company,” he thought.

Tang Wei and Gao Yuanyuan were both promising talents he had discovered. They couldn’t remain in this half-in, half-out state forever. Without signing to an agency or having a small team with an agent and assistant, there were too many trivial matters they simply couldn’t manage themselves. Even something as basic as scheduling could easily get mixed up.

If things continued like this, once Gu Zhi was no longer around, they might get poached by other companies.