Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]

Chapter 55

Yu Miao had watched The Cultivator twice before, so she was naturally familiar with all the special effects scenes. Back in the cinema, she had been utterly awestruck by them.

But this short video was different from The Cultivator. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why at first.

Maybe it was because she had just visited the Ten Great Immortal Palaces.

Maybe it was because the people in the video were dressed in modern clothing—a detail so meticulously crafted that it felt almost too polished for a short video—giving her the illusion that the mythical creatures and wonders of the Ten Great Immortal Palaces had truly come to life.

Even though she knew it wasn’t real, she couldn’t help but marvel at the visuals, fantasizing about how thrilling it would be if it were.

What do you do after stumbling upon a beautifully crafted, technically impressive video?

Of course, you click into the creator’s profile to see if there are more videos like it.

The bio listed the company name as Tianying and noted that it was a subsidiary of Starlight Entertainment.

Starlight Entertainment…

Yu Miao felt the name was vaguely familiar. A quick search reminded her—wasn’t this the company founded by Sheng Quan? The Starlight Manor she’d heard about in gossip circles probably took its name from Starlight Entertainment.

A surge of pleasant surprise washed over her. Though she was only a casual fan of Sheng Quan, the thought that "the people associated with someone I follow are truly exceptional" added an extra layer of appreciation.

Eagerly, she hit the follow button and began watching the handful of videos available.

There were only five in total. The first four were straightforward introductions to the company’s services, packed with stiff, uninspired ad copy that desperately tried to convey their team’s professionalism through words alone.

Had she come across these videos before seeing the fifth one, Yu Miao would’ve scrolled past without a second thought. Who promotes themselves like this? No tangible proof of skill, just dry, self-praising monologues.

But now, after witnessing that mind-blowing special effects showcase, her reaction was: Do you even know how to advertise? No one’s going to hire you like this!

Even as a college student who hadn’t yet entered the workforce, she knew this wasn’t how advertising worked. Though she’d only just followed them, Yu Miao already felt an itch to step in and offer advice—she couldn’t stand seeing a good company go unnoticed.

By the fourth video, the company finally started showcasing its capabilities, but unfortunately, it was all stuff Yu Miao had zero interest in: high-end servers, outrageously expensive work computers, rendering software, a workspace bustling with hundreds of employees.

Her reaction: …What’s the appeal here?

Just as she was about to dismiss it, she absentmindedly clicked into the comments—only to find them flooded with laughter.

"LOL, as a VFX artist, I can confirm they’re genuinely showing off the most valuable and impressive aspects of their company."

"HAHAHAHA anyone else here from the Ten Great Immortal Palaces video?"

"Hey, dude with the white-streaked hair, listen up—this isn’t how you promote your services. Just replicate your latest video, and your company will blow up for sure."

"Only those in the know understand how hard this company is trying to market itself."

The top-liked comment wasn’t recent. The commenter, seemingly sharing Yu Miao’s sentiments, had earnestly offered suggestions:

"Watched the first few videos. You’re clearly putting in effort, and as a VFX artist, I can see how top-notch your equipment is. But most people won’t get it. If you’re trying to promote your company, you should make a VFX demo reel. You’re a VFX studio—show off your skills to attract clients."

This comment resonated deeply with Yu Miao. Tianying had replied at the time:

"Got it, thank you so much! Our marketing team hasn’t been hired yet, so it’s just us tech folks handling promotions. We’re not great at it. Appreciate the advice—next video will be a VFX showcase. Thanks again!"

The commenter replied: "If you’re not in a rush, maybe wait until your marketing team is in place. Tech people doing marketing sounds like a nightmare."

Tianying: "(Facepalm) Our parent company is running a contest where rankings are based on video engagement. So us tech geeks are scrambling to figure this out."

"Is the contest mandatory? Your bio says the company’s pretty new—can’t you just skip it?"

Tianying: "It’s optional, but the prize is three months of double salary (shy) plus an all-expenses-paid trip to see giant pandas—travel and tickets covered by HQ. We really like pandas (shy)."

"…Are you hiring? DMing you."

This exchange was from five days ago, back when the first four videos had little traction, so only these two were talking.

But now? The engagement had exploded.

When Yu Miao stumbled upon the Ten Great Immortal Palaces VFX video, its comments had already surpassed 10,000.

And clearly, she wasn’t the only one digging through the archives.

Under this five-day-old thread, over a thousand new comments had piled up.

"Coming from the Ten Great Immortal Palaces video—this company actually listens to feedback!"

"At first, I thought ‘ugh, another corporate contest, just let people work in peace.’ Then I saw ‘three months of double pay.’ BOSS, ARE YOU HIRING? I’M GREAT AT VIDEO EDITING!"

"HAHAHAHA this guy’s reaction to the prize is so relatable."

"FYI, my friend works at Starlight Entertainment. She confirmed the contest is real—there’s an internal leaderboard updated daily. Apparently, this VFX subsidiary was dead last until today LOL."

"With those first four videos, no wonder they were in last place HAHAHA."

"You can tell they REALLY love pandas."

Yu Miao, like the other commenters, found the whole thing delightfully entertaining.

After finishing the video, she immediately searched Starlight contest and found a flood of related content.

Dance performances, singing covers, comedy skits—all high-quality, with every on-screen person boasting above-average looks.

The HR department posted makeup and styling tutorials.

Finance shared accounting-related skits.

Procurement filmed transformation videos using random office supplies.

Marketing, true to its name, mastered the art of virality.

They first showcased their most attractive colleagues flaunting their fit physiques, then revealed their before photos, sharing weight-loss journeys and hosting live workouts of trending exercise routines to motivate followers.

Every department was pulling out all the stops, and nearly every video had impressive engagement.

Yu Miao had even come across several of these videos before and had liked them. If it weren’t for stumbling upon this compilation now, she wouldn’t have known that these high-quality videos were all produced by various departments of Starlight Entertainment.

This is absolutely amazing!

How is it possible for every department to create such outstanding work?!

After Yu Miao left this comment, someone quickly replied:

[Well, not every department is this impressive. Just look at the special effects subsidiary Tianying next door—hahahaha! If it weren’t for netizens giving them suggestions, they’d still be stubbornly filming their servers.]

Tianying gained some popularity.

This special effects subsidiary quickly became a viral topic among netizens due to its amusing approach of "technicians making videos to enter a competition."

Alongside [Tianying, the Company That Can’t Promote Itself], another trending topic was [Starlight Entertainment: A Talent Factory].

At some point, it’s unclear which department started it, but gradually, participants began sneakily praising their company’s chairman, Sheng Quan, in their competition entries.

"Look at this makeup—it’s all done! Isn’t it stunning enough to outshine everyone? Could our boss be outshined? No way! Our boss is so beautiful she breaks the sky!"

"Today’s wealthy-themed shoot features clothes, shoes, and bags all generously provided by our beloved Chairman Sheng! Love you!"

"Why is our company’s gym so huge? Because our boss is kind and beautiful, of course! She loves working out here too—oh! Speak of the devil, here she comes! Look at how amazing her figure is!"

This widespread flattery amused netizens, who even joined in the fun.

Some were puzzled: [What’s so fun about sucking up to the boss? I hate that kind of thing!]

Someone immediately replied: [We’re not obsessed with flattering the boss—we’re obsessed with flattering a boss who’s approachable and generous with employee benefits. It’s like how I never want to participate in my own company’s competitions, but I’d jump at the chance to join Starlight Entertainment’s contests.]

[Why? Because at my company, we have to pay for our own costumes for the annual party, and the best prize is a single phone shared among a bunch of people. Meanwhile, Starlight’s competitions let you borrow filming and prop equipment from the company, and the prizes range from first to fifth place—first prize gets three months of double salary! Tell me, with a boss like that, how could you resist praising her?]

This reply quickly rose to the top of the likes, with everyone agreeing wholeheartedly.

[My boss watched these videos yesterday and asked why employees at other companies are so talented. I was screaming internally—if he didn’t force unpaid overtime, I’d be busting out talents left and right for him to see.]

[Wow… I last paid attention to Starlight Entertainment when it was just starting. Now it’s grown this big?]

[To the comment above—the chairman is Sheng Quan. Of course it’s huge.]

[Speaking of which, Sheng Quan seems pretty active online. Does she watch these employee videos? If she sees something really good, would she give rewards? Didn’t she once reward the original author of "The Road of Life"?]

Sheng Quan, who happened to be scrolling through videos and saw this comment, could answer honestly: Yes, she would.

The fundamental purpose of this [Company Competition] was to promote the subsidiary Tianying. Whether domestically or internationally, the best way for a special effects company to attract clients is through advertising.

For well-known special effects companies, every blockbuster film they work on essentially serves as their advertisement.

Sometimes, these companies even take on big projects at a loss just to showcase their technical prowess.

But in today’s internet era, where short videos dominate, using them for promotion is a brilliant idea—especially since Tianying’s major projects haven’t been released yet.

Sure, it’s costly upfront, but Sheng Quan isn’t afraid of spending money.

The [Starlight Competition] was part of the promotional strategy. No matter where it’s seen, those jaw-dropping, budget-burning special effects would undoubtedly stand out and generate buzz.

Of course, in the entertainment industry, technical skill alone isn’t enough—there needs to be engaging storytelling.

Thus, the topic [How Technicians Entered the Competition] was born.

Instead of "a subsidiary submitting a special effects video so stunning it instantly wins first prize," audiences preferred "technicians obsessively showcasing their server hardware and software, languishing in last place until netizens intervened, leading to a meteoric rise to first place with a special effects masterpiece."

It had everything: audience participation, humor, an underdog story, and quirky technician personas.

From there, Tianying only needed to keep releasing eye-catching special effects videos.

They’d naturally carry their own viral appeal.

[What kind of videos do technicians make for promotions? Hahahaha, the way they proudly introduce their servers is hilarious!]

[I’m dying! Anyone who’s worked in special effects knows how time-consuming this stuff is, yet Tianying is insanely productive. And after noticing other departments praising their boss, they jumped on the bandwagon too. Clearly, they really love giant pandas.]

[HAHAHAHA I just saw footage of Tianying filming their video—they’re performing so seriously while bystanders look at them like they’ve lost their minds!]

[These technicians might suck at promotions, but their special effects are legit!! Omg, I feel like they’re on par with Hollywood blockbuster-level CGI!]

[I bet tons of films will approach Tianying for effects work. This quality is perfect for big-budget spectacles!]

Indeed, film studios were already reaching out to Tianying.

Most of the company’s special effects artists were formerly part of Mirage Studios. When Tan Hongguang recruited them, they deliberated carefully before joining.

No one expected Tianying to gain fame this quickly.

The technicians truly weren’t good at promotions—every move they made was guided by Starlight’s team.

Then, as if in a dream, after posting just a few special effects videos on a short-video platform, the company suddenly blew up.

Amid the celebration, Tan Hongguang turned down a well-funded film studio after several discussions.

The team was baffled. In their Mirage days, they’d have clung to such an opportunity like a lifeline.

"Their timeline is too tight. Chairman Sheng has made it clear—Tianying prioritizes quality above all. If negotiations don’t align with that, we walk away."

Tan Hongguang’s hair was still streaked with white, but his demeanor had transformed. With a calm smile, he added:

"Don’t worry about lacking projects. From now on, most of Starlight’s ventures will assign work to us."

The moment these words were spoken, everyone froze.

It took a good ten seconds before a female colleague with similarly graying temples asked in a slightly excited tone, "So, does this mean we can focus solely on producing masterpieces from now on?"

No ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????one enjoyed churning out garbage. Given the chance, who wouldn’t want their work to be praised by the masses, or their company’s name to evoke admiration whenever mentioned?

The colleagues fell silent, their gazes—filled with the same anticipation—turning toward Tan Hongguang.

Under their collective stare, Tan Hongguang smiled and nodded slowly.

At that moment, everyone erupted into uncontrollable cheers!

Some, who were avid TV drama fans, even shouted:

"Long live Chairman Sheng!!"

"Long live!!!"

Meanwhile, the very Chairman Sheng they were practically ready to worship was reviewing a project in her hands:

"Interstellar?"

Gu Zhao nodded. "The investment required is enormous, and the production timeline will likely be lengthy. The total cost could exceed a billion, possibly even more. If it fails to deliver, even Starlight Entertainment would suffer significant losses."

Interstellar blockbusters were rare in China. In her previous life, Sheng Quan had watched a few, but in this world, the genre was even more niche than xianxia. While xianxia at least had some presence in TV dramas, interstellar was undeniably a cold market in every aspect.

Yet globally, interstellar themes were wildly popular, frequently appearing in annual lists of hit productions.

To put it simply, it wasn’t that interstellar was unpopular—it was just that no one in China had dared to tackle it.

The reason remained the same: the investment was simply too massive.

Sheng Quan looked at Gu Zhao. "What do you think?"

Gu Zhao’s expression, as cool and composed as ever, betrayed no hesitation. "I think we should do it."

He lifted his gaze, his striking light gray eyes meeting hers. His magnetic voice, usually laced with detachment, now carried a hint of warmth:

"I’ve reviewed Tianying’s footage. This film might just be their debut."

Sheng Quan smiled.

Gu Zhao had never been one for conservatism—especially not when his boss wasn’t either.

She closed the file in her hands. "Start the preparations. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a good interstellar movie."

Come to think of it, interstellar themes often involved cutting-edge technology.

And as everyone knew, cutting-edge technology meant exorbitant costs.

Since her financial restrictions had been lifted, Sheng Quan’s disposable personal funds—after deducting expenses for Tianying—currently stood at three hundred million.

A thoughtful expression crossed her face.

If she spent some of that money to develop high-tech equipment for the film…

Wouldn’t that be perfectly reasonable?