The success of Saw was no longer something that could be described with simple words like "popular" or "profitable."
It had become a phenomenon.
As Marvel's first film produced almost entirely under its own banner, Saw had been viewed as an experiment from the beginning. A low-budget horror project costing only 1.2 million dollars wasn't exactly the kind of production that made investors lose sleep from excitement. Even inside Marvel, plenty of people had quietly believed the project was merely Luo Zheng testing the waters before moving onto larger plans.
Yet reality slapped everyone hard.
A production costing only 1.2 million dollars had somehow earned an astonishing global box office total of 160 million dollars.
The profit ratio was so absurd that people had trouble believing the numbers.
When the opening weekend results came out, everyone already knew Saw would succeed.
But nobody expected it to become this terrifying.
Inside Marvel headquarters, the atmosphere had completely transformed.
Employees walked with their backs straighter.
Executives who previously questioned Marvel's direction suddenly became incredibly enthusiastic.
Board members who had once criticized Luo Zheng for spending a terrifying 140 million dollars on Iron Man had now completely changed faces.
Not long ago they had spoken cautiously:
"Isn't the budget too risky?"
"Should we reduce spending?"
"Maybe we should proceed more conservatively..."
Now?
Every meeting had become a competition in praising Luo Zheng.
"Chairman Luo truly has extraordinary vision."
"The future of Marvel is bright."
"Only under Chairman Luo's leadership can Marvel rise."
The speed of the change was almost artistic.
At Marvel now, only one voice truly mattered.
Luo Zheng.
Anyone with objections?
Simple.
Disappear.
Not physically, of course.
Just disappear from company decision-making.
No one wanted to gamble their position against someone who had turned a one-million-dollar horror film into a miracle.
Outside Marvel, Hollywood media naturally entered a state of frenzy.
Headlines flew out one after another like machine-gun fire.
"160 Million on a 1.2 Million Budget! Luo Zheng Officially Crowned King of Low-Budget Horror!"
The article praised Luo Zheng endlessly.
As for director James Wan...
His role had practically vanished.
Anyone reading would think Luo Zheng personally wrote, directed, acted, edited, and maybe even carried cameras himself.
But industry insiders knew something:
The article wasn't completely wrong.
The script came from Luo Zheng.
Storyboards came from Luo Zheng.
Casting decisions?
Luo Zheng.
Production planning?
Also Luo Zheng.
James Wan had mainly executed the vision.
Many people privately believed that if Luo Zheng had enough time, he probably would've directed personally.
James Wan simply happened to stand in the right place at the right time.
Ironically...
James Wan himself thought exactly the same.
During interviews he openly said:
"Without Boss Luo, none of this would have happened."
"He is both a mentor and friend."
"I was simply lucky."
He gave credit generously.
No arrogance.
No inflated ego.
No attempt to steal glory.
The media became depressed.
Directors becoming successful often led to juicy stories.
Jealousy.
Conflict.
Power struggles.
Instead, James Wan behaved like Marvel's model employee.
With no drama available, reporters simply changed direction and continued celebrating.
"James Wan Becomes a Legend Overnight—Saw Creates Year's Most Profitable Miracle!"
Then, naturally...
Someone had to suffer.
And Warner Bros. became the victim again.
"Warner Suffers Crushing Defeat! Eight Legged Freaks Earns Under 10 Million While Saw Creates History!"
"'Egg Hitting Stone' Theory Officially Becomes Hollywood's Greatest Industry Joke."
The internet laughed.
Entertainment programs laughed.
Even competitors laughed.
Warner became public entertainment.
When Luo Zheng saw the article, he couldn't help laughing.
Then he directly called Barry Meyer.
Once the call connected, he spoke sincerely:
"Barry, don't misunderstand."
"This definitely wasn't arranged by Marvel."
Silence.
Then Barry sighed.
"...I know."
Of course he knew.
Hollywood media loved creating conflict.
Especially when one side lost badly.
Still, Barry clearly felt somewhat depressed.
Fortunately, he didn't dwell on it.
Instead, another complaint appeared.
Marvel's cooperation with Sony.
Barry sounded dissatisfied.
Warner had held enormous expectations toward Iron Man.
As Marvel's first superhero blockbuster, every major studio had secretly watched it.
And Warner genuinely wanted to cooperate.
But Sony moved first.
News of the agreement wasn't public yet, but among the Big Seven, almost nothing stayed hidden.
Not only Warner.
Roy Disney had also complained.
"William! You have good projects and don't think about friends!"
Luo Zheng nearly laughed.
Friends?
This was business.
Capital.
Competition.
Not elementary school friendship games.
Benefits always came first.
In Hollywood, emotions without profit support were decoration.
Luo Zheng even felt that if Roy's last name weren't Disney...
He probably wouldn't survive executive politics.
Too emotional.
Still...
Friends were better than enemies.
So Luo Zheng didn't mind.
Several days later, before Saw's popularity cooled, another explosive headline appeared.
Marvel and Sony.
Spider-Man.
Returned.
Media immediately exploded.
Newspapers nearly felt warm from fresh ink.
"Deal of the Century! Luo Zheng Uses 300 Million and Iron Man Rights to Bring Spider-Man Home!"
"Marvel's Biological Son Finally Returns!"
"Epic Redemption: From Forced Cooperation to Total Control!"
Reading these headlines while drinking coffee, Luo Zheng found himself highly entertained.
Hollywood reporters truly had imagination.
They could turn business negotiations into war epics.
Just then—
his phone rang.
Scarlett.
The moment he saw the caller ID, Luo Zheng smiled.
"Hey."
"Calling after seeing the news?"
Scarlett's cheerful voice immediately came through.
"Congratulations!"
"The movie became a huge success!"
She sounded genuinely happy.
Almost happier than Marvel itself.
Luo Zheng deliberately teased:
"Eight Legged Freaks lost badly though."
Silence.
Then:
"...You really enjoy bringing that up."
He laughed.
"Just teasing."
After pausing, Luo Zheng casually continued:
"How about compensation?"
Scarlett blinked from the other side.
"...Compensation?"
"I've got a project."
"A film that's both critically acclaimed and commercially successful."
Silence.
Then excitement.
"Really?!"
"You aren't lying?"
Luo Zheng smiled.
"Lost in Tokyo."
"Shooting starts in September."
Scarlett instantly became excited.
"Only two months away!"
"Exactly."
Luo Zheng lowered his voice playfully.
"So...Corporal Scarlett."
"Ready?"
Scarlett immediately understood the joke.
"Always ready, Officer."
The familiar role-play response made Luo Zheng laugh.
After chatting briefly, they ended the call.
Soon afterward, a knock came.
The butler entered.
"Sir."
"A Miss Charlize Theron is here."
Luo Zheng raised an eyebrow.
Outside, the sky had already darkened considerably.
Visiting this late?
Interesting.
Very interesting.
After all, Liu Xiaoli had taken Liu Yifei out earlier to visit acquaintances.
The giant manor suddenly felt very empty tonight.
Luo Zheng stood up and walked outside.
Charlize stood in the living room.
Long blonde hair.
Red lips.
Elegant attire.
And those famously long legs.
Even Luo Zheng had to admit...
Hollywood's "South African Goddess" title wasn't exaggerated.
Still—
he knew women like Charlize.
Early success.
Beautiful.
Accomplished.
Confident.
Men spent their lives chasing them.
Showing too much enthusiasm usually worked against you.
So Luo Zheng smiled naturally.
No overacting.
No staring.
No special treatment.
"Please sit."
"What would you like to drink?"
Charlize didn't immediately answer.
Instead, she quietly observed him.
Cotton slippers.
Cartoon pajamas.
Hair still slightly damp.
No expensive suit.
No carefully maintained image.
Nothing about him matched the luxurious Beverly Hills manor.
Yet strangely...
Nothing felt out of place either.
Because of his expression.
Relaxed.
Confident.
Natural.
As if he simply belonged wherever he stood.
Charlize had seen too many powerful men.
Executives.
Directors.
Millionaires.
Billionaires.
People who chased fame and status.
Most wore perfect smiles.
Most hid ulterior motives.
Most exhausted her.
Before coming tonight, she'd already prepared herself.
After all, she came partly because of Depp's request.
She had planned how to handle things.
How to keep distance.
How to steer conversation.
But now—
all those preparations suddenly felt unnecessary.
Because standing before her wasn't the person she'd imagined.
Instead...
a strange feeling quietly surfaced.
A memory.
Very old.
Very distant.
A sunny boy from childhood.
The first person who made her heart race.
Not because of appearance.
Not because of status.
Just...
a feeling.
Warm.
Simple.
Bright.
Charlize stared quietly at Luo Zheng.
Then suddenly realized something.
White moonlight.
Yes.
That was it.