"Seen the numbers yet?"
Rob's call came in hot.
"Just checked—eight hundred million and climbing. Ten figures is basically locked," Cassius said, taking a slow sip of coffee.
"Not 'basically.' It's happening. Industry betting pools right now are only arguing whether we crack eleven."
Rob was talking so fast he was almost out of breath. "Bro, you're not just the male lead of The Hunger Games anymore. Lionsgate is treating you like the golden key to the entire Asian market—especially China."
Cassius wasn't surprised.
Box office is the only language Hollywood truly speaks.
With these numbers, his leverage on future scripts, paychecks, and creative control just went nuclear. Any project that wanted Asian box-office juice would be coming to him first.
He hung up with Rob and immediately got a text from Jennifer—her wide-eyed emoji face staring at a blurry box-office chart on her laptop.
"Holy shit! My agent just read me a string of numbers and I'm seriously wondering if we accidentally made a money-printing machine."
Cassius laughed and typed back: "Welcome to the billion-dollar club, Big Cousin. How's it feel?"
"Feels like every arrow I shot in the movie turned into gold coins raining down on me."
Jennifer replied instantly: "How are the sequel negotiations going on your end?? My agent says my new quote could buy two houses. I'm thinking about getting one right next to yours!"
Cassius rubbed his temple.
Jennifer had officially gotten addicted to living at his place.
Every woman in his life seemed determined to move into Beverly Hills.
The security guards at the gate already knew the drill—any pretty actress pulling up was probably there for Cassius.
He closed the chat and opened Weibo.
A notification popped up: You have reached three million followers.
In just a few days he'd gained two million.
The latest post he made already had tens of thousands of comments.
"Eleven billion RMB incoming! Brother-in-Law Bro is a beast!"
"Global eight hundred million dollars—making us proud!"
"Cassius is officially international now!"
"Love you even more after the movie. Real acting!"
"District 12 sending congratulations! May the odds be ever in your favor!"
Some comments were pure gold:
"My company made us watch it three times for 'team building.' I wrote so many reflection essays I almost threw up, but for Brother-in-Law Bro's box office I endured!"
"Political theory class is using the movie as an example now. I can recite the lines with my eyes closed."
Cassius scrolled, quietly moved.
He thought for a second, then posted:
"Just saw the latest box-office numbers. All of this belongs to every single one of you who walked into a theater. Thank you for every ticket, every discussion, every bit of support. This success belongs to everyone who loves the story. Keep moving forward. May the odds be ever in your favor. #TheHungerGames #Grateful"
The second he hit send, likes, reposts, and comments exploded.
The Hunger Games dominated global headlines.
When the final numbers were locked in by the official trackers, the industry lost its mind.
North America: $601 million.
Solid third place for the year—only two hundred million behind The Avengers.
China: 1.52 billion RMB (roughly $238 million).
Biggest single-market contribution outside North America, smashing every previous Hollywood import record.
Global total: $1.118 billion.
They beat the ten-figure bonus clause by more than a hundred million.
Lionsgate, the studio that built its name on low-budget horror and teen adaptations, had just kicked the door open to the billion-dollar club and grabbed a front-row seat.
The press went feral.
The Hollywood Reporter ran the headline:
"The Hunger Games: How One Movie Redefined a Studio—and an Era."
The article broke down every smart decision from casting to marketing, devoting huge sections to the "Cassius Factor."
"Early on, casting an Asian actor as Peeta Mellark was viewed internally as a risky gamble.
Final numbers prove it may have been one of the smartest casting decisions Lionsgate—or Hollywood in recent years—has ever made.
Cassius didn't just deliver a nuanced performance; he became the cultural bridge that connected mainstream Hollywood storytelling with the massive Asian market, especially China.
His acting charm and Asian heritage created a cross-cultural pull that was impossible to replicate.
Data shows that of the film's $1.118 billion global haul, Asia contributed over 35 percent, with China alone accounting for more than 20 percent."
Variety focused on the phenomenon itself:
"From viral district memes to unexpected official media commentary that sparked organized viewings, The Hunger Games rode an unpredictable wave of internet virality and cultural collision.
The pairing of Cassius and Jennifer Lawrence somehow hit both emotional resonance and deeper social reflection for young audiences East and West."
The New York Times cultural desk wrote:
"When an Asian face becomes the male lead of a global young-adult sci-fi epic and delivers record-breaking success, it signals that Hollywood's global storytelling has entered a new phase."
Every major outlet kept repeating Cassius's name.
On Weibo, fans were celebrating like it was New Year.
"Eleven billion RMB! Brother-in-Law Bro is unstoppable!"
"Fifteen billion RMB from China alone—our fans showed up!"
"Foreign media is crediting Cassius as the key factor. I'm so proud!"
A completely fan-organized, fan-funded online celebration kicked off.
#CongratsToCassiusForBreaking1.1BillionGlobally shot straight to number one on trending.
Fans made beautiful graphics, edited growth montages from extra to Peeta, even wrote celebratory songs. A few big-city fan clubs held small offline gatherings where people watched clips together and shared how they first discovered him.
The day after the movie finished its run, Rob showed up with the final financial report.
"Numbers are locked," he said, spreading the papers on the coffee table. "Base pay was four million. The real money is the backend."
He tapped a bolded line. "Per our tiered deal, once it crossed a billion you get three percent of net profits. After all deductions, your box-office bonus comes out to sixteen million. Add the base pay and you're looking at a clean twenty million dollars."
Twenty million.
Dollars.
Even though Cassius had mentally prepared himself, his heartbeat still skipped.
After taxes and Rob's eight-percent commission, the number that would actually hit his account was $11.04 million.
Jennifer's side was similar—her base was a little lower but she had a slightly bigger backend slice as the absolute lead. She'd walk away with roughly $5.2 million after everything.
Right on cue, Jennifer's call came in—screaming so loud Cassius had to pull the phone away from his ear.
"Cass! The money hit! Holy shit, that's a lot of zeros! My agent just read me the number and I can't calm down!"
Cassius laughed. "Big Cousin, what are you gonna do with all that cash?"
"Buy a house!" she blurted. "Right in Beverly Hills! Preferably close to yours so I can keep stealing your cooking!"
Of course.
The woman had officially moved in—mentally, at least.
Cassius shook his head, smiling. "Prices around here aren't cheap. You sure you wanna drop that much right after getting paid?"
"Absolutely. This isn't spending, it's investing!" Jennifer said, dead serious. "My realtor's already looking. Gotta go—real estate guy's calling again!"
She hung up in her usual whirlwind style.
Rob just chuckled. "Living in Beverly Hills is the ultimate Hollywood 'I made it' badge."
Cassius wasn't obsessed with houses—he already had the perfect one—but he understood the symbolism.
Rob gathered the papers. "Lionsgate has officially green-lit the sequel. They want the whole original cast back ASAP. Script's being rushed. With the current heat, your base quote for part two starts at fifteen million, better backend terms, and they're talking about expanding Peeta's role—turning it more into a true dual-lead rebellion story."
Cassius had no problem with that.
Even if it stayed a female-led series, he was fine. The story's core had never been about romance anyway.
Rob headed out, promising the money would clear in the next couple of days.
Meanwhile Jennifer was already racing around Beverly Hills with her realtor, occasionally dragging Cassius along under the excuse of "testing the kitchen for cooking convenience."
Cassius knew the real reason—she just wanted more of his food.
After finally shaking her off, he came home, opened his phone, and smiled at the flood of fan celebrations still rolling across Weibo.
Some people weren't happy about all the love.
A few rival fan accounts and keyboard warriors started throwing shade:
"Lmao, all this self-congratulation while the guy is out there making money for foreigners?"
"Bottom line he's just a high-level employee. Eating off his face in Hollywood—does he really think it's all talent?"
"The China box office exploded because of that official media article, not because of him. He just got lucky."
"Real people should support domestic stars. This guy is basically helping outsiders empty our pockets."
The usual noise.
Cassius had heard it all before. He just closed the app, leaned back, and took another sip of coffee.
In this industry, the only real answer was the next role and the next set of numbers.
And right now, those numbers were speaking louder than any troll ever could.