Inside the screening room, the lights gradually dimmed.
The murmuring conversations disappeared one after another as the massive screen illuminated the dark hall.
The movie had begun.
Luo Zheng leaned back in his chair and quietly watched the familiar opening scene unfold before him.
Although he had already seen Hero countless times in his previous life, watching it now, in the summer of 2002, surrounded by distributors from all over the world, produced an entirely different feeling.
Only by sitting in this era could one truly understand the impact this film carried.
This wasn't simply another martial arts movie.
It was the first true domestic blockbuster.
A film that would completely change the direction of the Chinese film industry.
Perhaps Zhang Yimou's storytelling was not perfect.
Perhaps the narrative structure still had flaws.
But if one spoke purely about visual presentation, color design, cinematography, and artistic expression, even twenty years later few directors could match his standards.
Every frame looked like a painting.
Every shot felt carefully crafted by an artist obsessed with perfection.
As the story progressed, scenes that would later become classics appeared one after another.
The Qin army stood in perfect formation.
Countless soldiers moved as one.
The vibrating arrows filled the sky.
The sound of bowstrings echoed across the battlefield.
Then came the terrifying moment when tens of thousands of arrows were launched simultaneously.
Dark clouds covered the sky.
The sun disappeared behind a rain of black arrows.
Even now, the visual impact remained breathtaking.
Many foreign distributors unconsciously sat up straighter.
The expressions on their faces gradually shifted from politeness to genuine interest.
Then came the famous Green Lake duel.
Broken Sword and Nameless stood atop the water.
Neither moved.
Yet both seemed to be fighting an invisible battle.
The ripples across the lake mirrored the collision of their minds.
The scene carried both beauty and philosophy.
Even those unfamiliar with Chinese culture could feel something special hidden beneath the surface.
Not long afterward came another unforgettable sequence.
Flying Snow.
Moon.
The endless forest of golden leaves.
Two women dancing through the air as blades flashed between them.
Yellow leaves drifted endlessly through the sky.
Love.
Jealousy.
Hatred.
Regret.
Every emotion seemed woven into the falling leaves.
The entire scene looked like a moving oil painting.
Several foreign distributors quietly exchanged glances.
Their eyes already contained traces of excitement.
Even Harvey Weinstein, seated in the front row, had stopped fidgeting.
His attention was completely captured.
Luo Zheng noticed everything.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
The movie still had flaws.
Because of time constraints, some visual effects had not been fully completed.
If the film had received another six months of post-production, the results would have been even more shocking.
But even in its current form, it was more than enough.
Especially for audiences in 2002.
An hour and a half passed quickly.
The final scene ended.
The screen faded to black.
For a brief moment, the room remained silent.
Then—
Applause erupted.
Loud.
Sincere.
Continuous.
The sound echoed throughout the screening room.
Many foreign distributors nodded while clapping.
Some whispered to their assistants.
Others immediately began calculating potential profits.
Beside Luo Zheng, Gong Li also applauded.
Then she turned toward him.
Her beautiful eyes carried curiosity.
"What do you think?"
"How would you rate the film?"
Luo Zheng thought for a moment.
Then answered honestly.
"It's very good."
"A standard blockbuster."
"Perhaps not perfect."
"But definitely excellent."
Hearing this evaluation, Gong Li visibly relaxed.
A smile appeared on her elegant face.
Because she understood how difficult it was for Luo Zheng to give such praise.
This wasn't blind flattery.
Nor was it courtesy.
It was his genuine assessment.
If Hero were released twenty years later, it would still be considered a qualified blockbuster.
Among modern audiences who had become accustomed to mediocre productions, its reputation might even be higher.
Onstage, Zhang Yimou briefly thanked everyone.
Then the auction officially began.
The atmosphere instantly changed.
Moments ago, everyone had been audiences.
Now they became businessmen.
Calculators replaced emotions.
Profit replaced appreciation.
The first item up for auction was the Asian distribution rights excluding Japan.
The reason Japan was separated was simple.
In 2002, Japan was still the second-largest box office market in the world after North America.
Its value alone justified a separate sale.
The auctioneer announced the opening.
Almost immediately, a Korean distributor stood up.
"Five hundred thousand dollars."
The room fell silent.
Several people exchanged amused looks.
Onstage, Zhang Weiping's smile froze.
His face visibly twitched.
Five hundred thousand?
For a blockbuster that cost thirty million to produce?
It was practically an insult.
Luo Zheng nearly laughed.
This opening bid was certainly memorable.
Soon another Korean buyer raised the price.
"Seven hundred thousand."
Then another.
"Nine hundred thousand."
The numbers slowly climbed.
One million.
One point three million.
One point six million.
Two million.
Then the pace stopped completely.
Several Korean buyers began increasing the bid by only fifty thousand at a time.
More absurdly—
They openly discussed partnering together to buy the rights.
Right in front of Zhang Weiping.
As though he didn't exist.
Zhang Weiping nearly suffered a heart attack on the spot.
His face alternated between red and pale.
Finally, unable to endure it anymore, he grabbed the microphone.
"Gentlemen."
"The Asian rights cannot be sold below four million dollars."
"That is our minimum price."
The response was immediate.
The Korean distributors protested loudly.
Too expensive.
Not worth it.
Impossible.
One buyer even threatened to walk away entirely.
The negotiation dragged on for nearly twenty minutes.
By the end, Zhang Weiping looked exhausted.
Eventually, the rights sold for three million dollars.
One million below his desired minimum.
When the deal was finalized, his expression resembled someone who had just lost a child.
For the first time, he experienced the cruelty of international distributors.
Meanwhile, Luo Zheng watched with great amusement.
The next auction began.
Japan.
North America.
The two most valuable regions.
This time, Zhang Weiping tried a clever trick.
Bidders could purchase them separately.
Or acquire both together.
This prevented buyers from secretly forming alliances.
The bidding started.
Immediately, a Japanese distributor stood up and bowed.
"Two point five million dollars for Japan."
A North American buyer followed.
"One million for North America."
The smile on Zhang Weiping's face vanished again.
One million?
For North America?
He almost fainted.
The buyer calmly explained.
"Asian audiences may love this."
"Americans won't."
The room erupted into discussion.
Desperate, Zhang Weiping began using Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon as an example.
He passionately explained how Hero could become another box office miracle.
How it might surpass one hundred million dollars.
How audiences would embrace it.
Unfortunately—
Nobody seemed convinced.
The Japanese bidding eventually reached five million and stabilized.
North America still struggled below three million.
At this moment, Harvey Weinstein finally decided to act.
In his view, the timing was perfect.
Everyone else had shown weakness.
Now he would step forward and dominate the auction.
He prepared to stand.
Prepared to announce a crushing offer.
Prepared to establish authority.
Then—
A clear female voice suddenly rang out from behind.
"Ten million dollars."
Silence.
The voice continued.
"Marvel wants both Japan and North America."
Every head turned simultaneously.
Xue Kaiqi's heart nearly exploded with excitement.
She had rehearsed that sentence countless times in her mind.
Now she had finally delivered it.
The entire room stared.
The sensation was indescribable.
Her face flushed red.
Her breathing quickened.
She felt as though electricity was rushing through her body.
Even Zhang Weiping became energized.
His previously lifeless eyes immediately brightened.
He skipped right past Xue Kaiqi and looked directly at Luo Zheng.
His expression became almost affectionate.
At this moment, he nearly wanted to call Luo Zheng his benefactor.
Meanwhile, Harvey's mood instantly darkened.
He recognized Marvel.
More importantly—
He recognized Luo Zheng.
The young man who had dominated Hollywood headlines recently.
The man who had spent three hundred million dollars negotiating with Sony.
The man whose influence was rising at frightening speed.
Harvey's instincts immediately sounded an alarm.
This would not be easy.
He stood.
Forced a smile.
Then spoke loudly.
"Mr. William."
"If I remember correctly, Marvel has only recently started building distribution channels."
"Buying rights so aggressively may not be wise."
Many eyes turned toward Luo Zheng.
Xue Kaiqi also looked nervous.
However, Luo Zheng remained relaxed.
His expression didn't change.
His voice remained calm.
"No need to worry, Mr. Harvey."
"If ten million dollars is lost..."
"It's lost."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Harvey froze.
The room froze.
Even the translators hesitated briefly.
Then realization spread.
Many distributors nodded subconsciously.
Yes.
That sounded exactly like Marvel.
Exactly like William.
The company that had just spent hundreds of millions reclaiming Spider-Man.
Ten million dollars genuinely wasn't enough to scare him.
Xue Kaiqi felt another wave of excitement rush through her entire body.
Her face became even redder.
At this moment, her admiration for her boss reached an entirely new level.
Harvey quickly recovered.
He laughed awkwardly.
Then turned toward the stage.
A cold light flashed through his eyes.
If intimidation didn't work—
He would simply crush everyone with money.
Slowly raising three fingers, he announced loudly:
"Thirty million dollars."
The room exploded.
"I want both North America and Japan."
The words landed like a bomb.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Even breathing seemed to stop.
Thirty million dollars.
Just for distribution rights.
Every distributor stared at Harvey.
Many thought he had lost his mind.
Even Zhang Yimou looked stunned.
Only Luo Zheng remained calm.
A faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Because unlike everyone else—
He knew exactly what Harvey was planning.
And beside him, Gong Li slowly frowned.
For the first time that day—
A trace of unease appeared in her eyes.