Chapter 117: "The Northern Abyss Holds a Fish"

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Fang Xing had an office in the music production department of Pine Stone Records. However, he didn’t need to come in every day. Whenever there was work to be assigned, his manager, Qiao Yinghong, would notify him in advance via WeChat.

Yesterday, after a gathering with Shao Yu and Lu Ming, Fang Xing received a work message from Qiao Yinghong, so he arrived at the office early this morning.

Qiao Yinghong came in carrying more than a dozen folders. She spread them out before Fang Xing and said, “These are the theme song projects for films and TV dramas that the company has received. Take a look and see if there’s anything you want to take on.”

Fang Xing pointed at the folders, speechless. “Fifteen? Why so many?”

“‘Painted Heart’ became a huge hit—an absolute sensation. A movie theme song that successful can be rare, maybe one a year. Such success naturally attracts a lot of attention from film companies...” Qiao Yinghong paused, then neatly arranged the folders and continued, “This is after filtering. Initially, there were seventy or eighty invitations from various film companies. These fifteen theme song offers are the shortlisted ones. See if you want to accept any.”

“Suddenly having so much work, there’s no way I can handle it all by myself,” Fang Xing said, staring at the invitations with some bewilderment.

“You don’t have to do every project. Pick the ones that inspire you. The company also collaborates with other producers; whoever can do it will record a demo to try out,” Qiao Yinghong explained.

“Alright, I’ll take a look and decide if there’s anything suitable,” Fang Xing said, picking up the folders and flipping through them slowly.

Qiao Yinghong added, “Some of these dramas have trailers already sent to your work email. Watching those might spark more inspiration.”

After briefing him on the work, Qiao Yinghong brought up another matter: “By the way, the first payment from the major music platforms has arrived. The company will settle accounts this month. The main income comes from ‘Nocturne’ and ‘Wild Bird’ royalties, roughly eight million. Have you thought about how to spend it?”

She joked lightly on the last part.

Hearing that the money was coming in, Fang Xing felt that some things he wanted to do could finally get underway. Previously, funds were tight, so many plans couldn’t start. Now, he could begin preparations.

Fang Xing considered and said, “Hongjie, I’m planning to set up a studio, mainly to help a few former bandmates release their songs. Could you come and help?”

So far, Lu Ming and Guo Keda hadn’t signed with any management company. Shao Yu already had a manager and had been busy with appearances. Lu Ming was preparing for the Eastern Conservatory entrance exam, studying falsetto tenor, so he didn’t have much time for appearances and chose not to sign with an agency. Guo Keda’s idea was simple—stick close to Fang Xing’s star and stay independent. He was quite outgoing and well-connected with show directors, often getting gigs on his own without sharing with a company, living quite comfortably.

Fang Xing had promised to assist them with songs as much as possible, so he planned to produce some tracks for them to sing during future concerts.

Qiao Yinghong immediately agreed when she heard about the studio plan. “No problem. I’ll handle setting up the studio. I know people who can do it, and it won’t take longer than a week.”

Several artists under Pine Stone Records had already set up studios. For example, the label’s leading lady, Yao Liying, had a studio that was almost company-sized.

Fang Xing’s studio would also be under the Pine Stone Records umbrella.

After working together for a while, Fang Xing trusted Qiao Yinghong’s abilities and hoped she could manage the studio’s operations. However, since she was still Li Caiwei’s manager, she might not be able to fully commit—it depended on her schedule.

If the studio wasn’t established, then any songs produced for Lu Ming and the others would be made and released by Pine Stone Records. Given their situations, it would be difficult for them to receive royalties.

But if Fang Xing released these songs through his studio, the royalty split would follow his share.

After discussing the studio, Qiao Yinghong left to prepare the registration documents. Fang Xing resumed reviewing the fifteen film and TV theme song invitations.

Since they were theme song offers, the invitations from film companies contained detailed introductions of the movies and dramas, including plot summaries, cast and crew lists, costume and prop teams, and more.

Fang Xing flipped through several but found none particularly interesting.

In the film industry, not every project is a big-budget production. Most movies and dramas are low-budget, so their offers for theme songs were usually modest. Definitely not like “Painted Skin,” which had a huge budget and over a hundred million yuan in promotion, pushing its theme song straight to the top of the charts.

More importantly, Fang Xing felt the content of these projects was mediocre, so his interest was low.

After finishing the fifteen invitations, he selected two that seemed somewhat promising to take home for a closer look.

When he reached the Pine Stone Records reception, he saw a man talking to the receptionist.

“Let me in to see your general manager. I just want to say a few words.”

“Sorry, no appointments, no entry,” the receptionist politely refused.

The man persisted: “I have a project with crowdfunding that raised 1.5 million yuan. This project can be done well, but it needs a theme song now.”

“You can leave the materials with me, and I will pass them on to the relevant department,” the receptionist replied.

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“No, I already sent you the materials a few days ago, but you returned them. My project is really good,” the man insisted, pulling out an A4-bound booklet. “I’m making an animation. This is the background story I wrote—about fifty thousand words. Have you read it?”

Curious, Fang Xing walked over and asked, “Let me see it?”

The young man looked up, stunned to see Fang Xing, then his eyes lit up. “Fang Xing, you’re Fang Xing! I’ve been trying to find you.”

He immediately thrust the materials and the background story booklet into Fang Xing’s hands. “This is the animation’s background story. I hope you can help me produce a theme song.”

Fang Xing skimmed the animation project materials. The title was “The Fish of the Northern Ocean.” The animation’s background was based on Zhuangzi’s “Free and Easy Wandering.”

Seeing the topic sparked an idea in Fang Xing’s mind. The animation’s background resembled that of an animated film on Earth.

However, the man said he had already submitted the materials days ago but they were returned, indicating the company wasn’t optimistic about the project.

After briefly reviewing the materials, Fang Xing understood why. The project had virtually no funding, only 1.5 million yuan raised through online crowdfunding, aiming to make an animated film.

One and a half million yuan is barely a fraction of what’s needed to make an animation film.

Therefore, the creator, having seen the success of the theme song for “Painted Heart,” thought of a clever plan: create a theme song based on the background story of “The Fish of the Northern Ocean.” If the song became popular, they could attract further financing and persuade film companies to invest.

It was a clever idea, and if successful, it could be a legendary story in the film industry.

But such high-risk gambles rarely succeed. Finding someone to make the theme song was already a challenge, and even if someone agreed, the song had to become a hit to secure the next round of financing.

From a practical perspective, this idea was somewhat fanciful.

Of course, if the quality standards were lowered, the creator could produce a theme song for twenty to thirty thousand yuan. But the chances of such a song gaining widespread popularity were slim.

Seeing the title “The Fish of the Northern Ocean,” Fang Xing felt intrigued and decided to read the background story.

“What’s your name?”

“Hello, I’m Liang Jing,” the young man said quickly, clasping Fang Xing’s hand a few times.

“Leave me your contact information. I’ll review the materials, and if I’m interested, I’ll contact you,” Fang Xing said.

“Okay,” Liang Jing grabbed a pen and paper from the receptionist’s desk, wrote down a phone number, and handed it to Fang Xing.

Fang Xing took the materials and went home to continue reading.

Because “The Fish of the Northern Ocean” shared some similarities in background with an animated film on Earth, Fang Xing prioritized reviewing it.

The story was drawn from Zhuangzi’s “Free and Easy Wandering,” focusing on the tale of the mythical Kunpeng fish.

The materials included not only text descriptions but also a stack of concept art. Liang Jing, an animator, had drawn all the original artwork.

The style combined traditional ink wash with contemporary 2D comic elements.

The story was about a small fish that ended up in the human world after being picked up by humans. The tale concluded with the fish growing into a gigantic Kun, gaining wings, and flying into the sky.

Essentially, it was about an alien life form landing on Earth and interacting with humans—a narrative seen in many stories.

What made this animation project fresh was its framing within the background of “Free and Easy Wandering” and “The Fish of the Northern Ocean.”

However, from Liang Jing’s synopsis, it differed somewhat from Earth’s “Big Fish & Begonia,” though both shared a common flaw: they insisted on turning this fantasy animation into a love story, specifically a Mary Sue love triangle, which made the story clichéd.

“Big Fish & Begonia” on Earth had a Douban score of 6.9, only average.

Its real appeal lay in voice acting and art style, while the story and dialogue dragged the film down.

Judging from Liang Jing’s story direction, if Fang Xing composed the theme song “Big Fish” for it, thematically it would fit.

However, this animation project was still in its infancy. Even if he made the theme song, Liang Jing would still need to use the song to raise funds.

Even if financing succeeded, it would take one or two years to produce the animation.

Whether the film would actually be completed was uncertain.

Countless projects in the film industry fail midway each year, especially animations, which often run out of funds, leaving investors at a loss.

Pine Stone Records was right to return Liang Jing’s proposal; the project was just a shadow of an idea.

Moreover, seeking a record company to make the theme song wouldn’t bring in much money.

Fang Xing thought for a moment and called Liang Jing: “Hello, this is Fang Xing.”

“Hello! Has my project been approved?” Liang Jing’s voice was filled with excitement.

“You know this kind of project can’t get approved, right?” Fang Xing wanted to temper his enthusiasm.

Liang Jing understood that aside from the concept, the project lacked substance. His tone dropped: “I know, but I’m confident I can make this animation well.”

Fang Xing was straightforward: “Making a full animated film right away isn’t realistic. But I like your art style.

“So, I suggest you first produce a five- or six-minute animated short with lower requirements for frames and visuals.

“If I’m satisfied with the short, I can compose a theme song for it as my stake in the project.”

Liang Jing, hearing hope, quickly agreed: “Sure! I’m already working on the short and nearly done. I wanted to release the theme song alongside the short to help with fundraising.”

Fang Xing frowned and asked, “One more question.”

“What is it?” Liang Jing asked eagerly.

“Do you accept script suggestions?”

Liang Jing hesitated.

“To be honest, I think the theme of a Mary Sue love triangle is too vulgar for an animation. The emotions should be purer and more innocent. If you agree, I’d be happy to join the project.”

Liang Jing’s tone brightened: “I think so too. Although the audience is adults, the animation shouldn’t be too worldly.”

“Then what about your story?” Fang Xing glanced again at the synopsis, which clearly described a Mary Sue love triangle.

“That was written by the screenwriter I hired. He insisted on that story to make it interesting. I’m an animator, not a scriptwriter, so I outsourced it,” Liang Jing said helplessly.

“If I suggest changing the writer, would you agree?”

“I could, but I’ve already paid for the current script...” Liang Jing felt it would be a waste.

“If it’s just around a hundred thousand yuan, it’s no big deal.”

“True, but my funds are tight; it’s hard to hire a well-known writer,” Liang Jing was troubled.

“Send me the script and the short. I’ll review them, then we can discuss the next steps,” Fang Xing requested.

This was a bit bold—sending an unreleased short to a stranger was risky.

But knowing Fang Xing’s reputation, Liang Jing hesitated little before sending the script and the finished short.

The short was only five minutes, slightly longer than a movie trailer.

Watching it, Fang Xing’s eyes lit up.

Because it was so brief, the short couldn’t cover the full Mary Sue story. It was entirely Liang Jing’s work, showcasing the art style and telling the story of the fish’s arrival on Earth, its interactions with humans, and its longing as it flies to the sky.

From this short alone, Fang Xing thought it was excellent.

However, expanding it into a feature-length film would require much more. Including the Mary Sue subplot would degrade the story’s quality by three levels.

Although it might not necessarily become a bad movie, the short was very promising.

Fang Xing felt the short deserved a theme song like “Big Fish.”

They could release the short as the music video for the theme song first, then Liang Jing could work on the full film afterward.

While Fang Xing watched, Liang Jing stayed on the line, timing about five minutes before asking, “Fang, what do you think?”

“The short is good. I’ll compose a theme song to release alongside it. But there’s a condition: the song’s production cost, discounted to two million yuan, will be considered my investment in the film.”

Fang Xing paused, adding: “Besides, I’ll also invest separately and join the core creative team, offering some story input.

“Of course, you might think this is a lot to ask.

“You can wait until you hear the demo. Then, we can decide and sign contracts.”

Liang Jing eagerly replied, “No problem! I’m thrilled you want to join the creative team.”

“Alright, let’s proceed. The short needs some polishing. Finish that quickly, and then release it with the song.”

“Got it! I’ve been focused on fundraising and the short got delayed, but now that the project has prospects, I can focus on animation,” Liang Jing said enthusiastically.

After the call ended, Fang Xing sent a message to Lu Ming: “Are you free tomorrow? Come to Pine Stone Records to record a demo.”

Lu Ming replied: “I’m free. What time?”

“10 a.m. I haven’t booked a studio yet, we’ll see if one is available. I’ll send you the score tonight.”

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