125 The Film Premiere

Before Li Daniu could even rejoice over successfully gaining fans, he noticed a prompt on EyeBook.

“Dear His Majesty the King, since your profession is not limited to being a king, we have classified your account under both the King and Writer categories. We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience this may cause!”

What on earth are you apologizing for?

Confused, Li Daniu clicked on the notification and finally understood.

EyeBook in this world has a comprehensive ranking list based on the number of followers.

Moreover, beyond the overall ranking, the list is subdivided according to the registrants’ professions.

When Li Daniu first registered, he listed his occupation as King, so he was placed under the category of National Leaders.

In this world, aside from a few retired major national leaders, very few active leaders register on EyeBook, as they usually have dedicated spokespeople.

Retired leaders, no matter how glorious their tenure or how powerful their countries, rarely amass a large fan base since their positions don’t easily attract followers.

Before Li Daniu, the leader with the most followers in the National Leaders category was the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia, boasting over seven million global fans. The reason for such a large following was his ostentatious displays of luxury on EyeBook—luxury cars, private jets, yachts, and even parties featuring famous models.

Although all media outlets, including those within Saudi Arabia, disapproved of his flashy lifestyle, he continued unabashedly, flaunting his wealth as if it were everyday life.

After Li Daniu became world-famous through “The Lord of the Rings” and subsequent events, his fan count reached tens of millions, making him the leader with the highest follower count in that category.

Even though EyeBook is a corporate giant, it could not allow such an imbalance to persist.

How would other national leaders feel? Even retired leaders still wield significant influence in politics.

Thus, after a meeting, EyeBook decided to add the title “Famous Writer” to the certification information on Li Daniu’s account.

Simultaneously, they placed him in the Writers’ category ranking.

This way, while Li Daniu still dominated the Leaders’ category, the addition of the “Famous Writer” label made it more acceptable to other leaders.

EyeBook’s subtle message was clear: this guy is essentially a writer, and king is just a side gig.

Li Daniu was oblivious to these intricacies; for him, having an extra category was no big deal.

Checking the Writers’ follower ranking, he saw that, with 38 million followers, he was only seventh.

At the top was a British mystery author who created a character akin to a past-life Sherlock Holmes, releasing a new book every two years for twenty years. Although “The Lord of the Rings” broke single-month sales records, this author’s cumulative sales reached 370 million copies.

Moreover, this character had been adapted to the big screen multiple times, boosting his fan base to 75 million.

It’s important to note that EyeBook requires real-name verification; each ID can register only one account. Even if someone tried to buy followers, the maximum would be a few million—a few million purchased followers would be impressive enough. Beyond that, it’s practically impossible.

“If I had that many fans, wouldn’t I be making a fortune?” Li Daniu mused.

Though follower counts don’t equal sales—some celebrities have 80 million fans, but not all those fans watch every movie—fans might follow you but won’t necessarily support every project.

To make follower counts translate into sales, your work must be truly outstanding.

Some celebrities, after gaining fame, take on poor-quality projects just for the paycheck, alienating regular fans who won’t pay to see their films. Losing fans is the best-case scenario.

But this logic didn’t apply to Li Daniu. Every work he produced was a classic in its own right, so he was confident most of his fans would become consumers of his creations.

“The revolution is not yet successful; comrades must keep working hard.”

Li Daniu indulged in this thought for a moment, then began preparing to promote his film, mostly by paying others to handle advertising and online hype.

His task was to hold book signings for his new release while supporting the film’s publicity.

After touring three cities and signing tens of thousands of autographs, Li Daniu’s film finally premiered in the United States.

Though it wasn’t a simultaneous worldwide release, a low-budget horror movie securing two thousand screens in the U.S. was impressive.

His previous film had only a few hundred screens—a meager release—but still set records. Given this better start, what miracles might this new film achieve?

Unlike other movies that hosted premieres or press events, Li Daniu’s horror film skipped such gimmicks.

At 8 p.m. that night, Li Daniu entered a cinema alone, wearing a mask and hat, bought a ticket, and took his seat.

By the time the film started, the theater was packed. The massive turnout was due to strong promotion, online buzz, and the appeal of a famous writer’s directorial debut.

“If all two thousand screens have this many viewers, this film is going to take off,” Li Daniu thought, lost in his imagination, until he overheard some murmurs.

“What kind of lousy movie is this? The writing was so good—why is the film so dull?”

At that moment, the film was showing the opening scene where the male and female leads planned a trip to Tuvalu and recorded the scenery with a camera.

Nobody liked this part; where’s the promised horror?

A few people left after ten minutes, and the remaining audience’s complaints grew louder.

Li Daniu discreetly checked his phone and saw people on EyeBook complaining that the film was boring—just a Tuvalu travelogue.

Damn, this won’t do. If others read these complaints, would they still want to watch the movie?

But Li Daniu was powerless; that segment was genuinely dull.

As the audience’s grumbling grew louder, the true plot began to unfold.

As the couple’s camera recorded increasingly strange events in their room, the theater fell silent.

Li Daniu noticed a couple next to him even raised the armrest between their seats and hugged each other.

They weren’t making out; he could see clearly—they were trembling.

Was it that intense?

Li Daniu, having directed the film, wasn’t afraid. He had seen several horror movies in his previous life and was accustomed to the genre’s conventions.

But he didn’t realize how terrifying this film was to viewers unfamiliar with such movies.

When the male lead suddenly got out of bed at midnight and simply stood by the bed, staring at the female lead on the other bed, not a single person thought he had ill intentions.

Towards the end, when the male lead was dragged out of the room by an invisible force, screams erupted in the theater.

At the final shot, a blurry face appeared in front of the camera, causing some viewers to scream and flee.

These reactions pleased Li Daniu; they proved that even in a different world, the film remained frightening.

After leaving the theater and returning to his lodgings, Li Daniu checked online reviews.

Though the premiere had just finished, quick reviewers had already posted their opinions.

“This movie is undoubtedly a horror film because it genuinely scared me. I’m even thinking of setting up a camera in my room tonight because I often sense movement while I sleep. I believe many people share this feeling.”

“I declare this the most successful horror film in a decade. No one can argue with that. Though its scares—unseen forces, sudden ghostly apparitions—are common tropes, filming it from a camera’s perspective, especially set in a familiar home environment, amplifies the terror infinitely.”

“This is definitely a mockumentary. From the plot, we can tell the budget was low, but I believe it will set box office records.”

…

After browsing the comments a while, Li Daniu received a call from his company.

“Boss, the data is in. Two thousand screens, 98% occupancy.”

That high?

Ticket prices vary by theater, so box office figures take longer to calculate, but assuming an average ticket price of seven dollars and about one hundred viewers per screen, the first showing’s revenue is roughly...

Nearly 1.4 million dollars?

Calculating the film’s investment, Li Daniu laughed heartily.

This isn’t just a profit—it’s a money grab. (To be continued.)