21-25

Chapter 21: First Week Box Office

On Thursday, Buried Alive sold 802 tickets at the Consolidated Theatres, generating $6,416 in revenue. Although it was slightly lower than Wednesday’s numbers, it still remained above $6,000.

William Mason was pleased with the box office performance.

He faxed the first six days of Buried Alive's box office data to the headquarters of Consolidated Theatres and formally requested an extension of the film’s screening period.

Seeing the movie’s steady growth in revenue, the headquarters approved Mason’s request.

Link signed a new distribution agreement with Consolidated Theatres.

This time, he didn’t have to pay a security deposit.

Instead, the revenue would be split 60-40 according to the theater chain's standard contract—60% for the theaters and 40% for Link.

The extension was granted for one more week.

Whether the partnership would continue beyond that depended on Buried Alive’s performance in the coming days.

By Friday, the film was confirmed to continue screening at Consolidated Theatres.

However, with the start of a new week, the Burbank branch of Consolidated Theatres had completed renovations and resumed regular operations.

Along with Buried Alive, the theater also began screening several major films, including Robert Downey Jr.’s Chaplin, the thriller The Hand That Rocks the Cradle, Jonathan Lynn’s comedy My Cousin Vinny, and the action-crime film Juice starring rapper Tupac Shakur.

With more films in competition, Buried Alive’s screening slots were reduced.

During the previous week, the film was shown in all ten auditoriums whenever there was demand.

Now, screenings were scheduled based on occupancy rates—movies with higher attendance would receive more showtimes.

This was bad news for Buried Alive. The other films had full support from major distribution companies, with professional marketing campaigns, media coverage, and star power to drive audience interest.

In contrast, Buried Alive was an independent film with no major backing.

However, the increase in overall foot traffic at Consolidated Theatres, thanks to the new releases, could potentially boost Buried Alive’s ticket sales as well.

Whether this would be beneficial or detrimental depended on the film’s ability to compete.

Link understood that Buried Alive was at a critical juncture.

To attract more viewers, he hired people to distribute flyers at shopping malls.

At night, after returning to his apartment, he dedicated time to writing and submitting film reviews to newspapers.

He wrote analyses and critiques of Buried Alive, as well as reviews of the other major films released that week. While discussing the popular movies, he would subtly mention Buried Alive to increase exposure.

Thanks to his strong writing skills, three of his reviews were published in USA Forum, The Hollywood Reporter, and Variety.

—

“What a waste of effort.”

William Mason shook his head when he saw Link handing out flyers at shopping malls. He wasn’t optimistic about Link’s approach.

The films competing with Buried Alive all had major studios backing them.

Once a movie was released, these companies poured vast amounts of money into promotions.

There were media reports, celebrity endorsements, and widespread publicity.

In comparison, Link’s grassroots marketing—handing out flyers—was like bringing a rifle to a battle against tanks and missiles.

The weekend passed quickly.

Mason predicted that with so much competition, Buried Alive’s box office revenue would drop below $3,000 per day, or even lower.

However, when he received the weekend box office report, he was shocked.

Over the three-day weekend, Buried Alive sold 3,107 tickets, grossing $24,800.

The daily average revenue was $8,285.

Among the ten movies screening that week, Buried Alive ranked fourth—just behind The Hand That Rocks the Cradle, My Cousin Vinny, and Chaplin.

Without a significant promotional campaign, Buried Alive relied solely on word-of-mouth and still managed to surpass $8,000 in daily earnings.

This was a rare achievement for an independent film, placing it in the mid-to-upper tier of small-scale releases.

Seeing the numbers, Mason immediately contacted Consolidated Theatres headquarters to discuss whether they should expand the film’s distribution.

Buried Alive had strong box office potential. If it could perform well in Burbank, it might do just as well in other cities.

Theater chains exist to make money, and when they come across a film with financial potential, they don’t let the opportunity go to waste.

That same day, Consolidated Theatres headquarters responded:

If Buried Alive maintained an average daily revenue of at least $6,000 per theater through Thursday, they would consider expanding its release.

The exact number of additional theaters would be determined once more data was available.

Despite receiving this response, Mason didn’t immediately inform Link.

Buried Alive still lacked a distributor and a formal marketing campaign. Its box office performance was unstable.

Mason worried that if ticket sales declined in the new week and fell below the $6,000 threshold, all the excitement would be for nothing.

But to his surprise, as the new week began, Buried Alive’s box office remained strong.

Although slightly lower than the weekend, daily earnings stayed between $6,500 and $8,200.

By Thursday, the film’s daily average revenue was $7,135—$327 higher than Chaplin’s daily earnings.

Mason once again forwarded the updated numbers to Consolidated Theatres headquarters.

*Headquarters approved his request and agreed to expand the theatrical release of Buried to five theaters—two in Los Angeles, two in New York, and one in San Francisco.*

After receiving the reply, William Mason called Link to share the good news and asked him to bring a lawyer over to sign an amended distribution contract.

"This is fantastic news, William. Thank you."  

"No, this is all because of you. If you hadn't insisted on releasing Buried, and if the film itself wasn't compelling enough, there wouldn't have been much I could do to help."  

"Well then, I should thank myself too."  

Hanging up his newly purchased phone, Link set down his pen and rubbed his wrist.

Over the past few days, besides writing film reviews, he had also been working on a new script.

According to the system’s prompts, the higher his personal involvement in a project, the better the film's quality and the greater the box office subsidies. That meant his second film couldn't be a large-scale production.

The bigger the project, the more people were needed, and the less he would be personally involved.

Additionally, low-budget films had shorter production cycles. Some films took only a few days to shoot and edit.

After careful consideration, Link decided to make Paranormal Activity his second film.

The movie was originally released in 2009 with a production budget of just $15,000. From the start of filming to its completion, it took only seven days, and the entire film was shot using a handheld camera.

The main cast consisted of only two actors.

Yet, after its release, the movie grossed over $200 million worldwide.

If the system’s enhancements could double that box office revenue, Link would be well on his way to becoming a billionaire.

However, he still hadn’t figured out what the system meant by a "4x box office subsidy."

Would it multiply the original box office revenue from his previous life by four?

Or would it apply to this timeline's box office performance?

Or, worst of all, would it be based on four times the production budget?

He hoped it was the first option. The second would be acceptable. But the third... that would be a disaster.

If it was based on the production budget, Buried might only generate a few hundred thousand dollars in total revenue. That would be a complete rip-off.

That’s why he was using Buried as an experiment—to understand how the system worked before moving forward with his second film.

*Knock, knock, knock!*

"Link, wanna hit the bar?"  

Chris Bauer called out from outside the door.

"Not tonight, I’m busy."  

"Alright. But hey, don’t be too upset if Buried doesn’t do well at the box office. It’s only your first movie. No one succeeds on their first try. Fail a few more times, and you’ll eventually become a real director."  

"Thanks! You’re really great at cheering people up."  

After sending Chris Bauer away, Link stood by the window for a while, looking at the scenery outside. Then, he returned to his desk and continued working on his director’s script.

*(End of Chapter)*

Chapter 22: Top Ten at the Box Office  

The weather at noon was pleasant—not too hot or too cold—the most comfortable season in Los Angeles.  

Link arranged to meet his lawyer, Sean , at the Burbank-United Theater to sign a contract.  

Last time, he had signed with William Mason. This time, he was signing a distribution contract with a representative from Consolidated Theatres.  

Consolidated Theatres is one of the well-known art house theater chains in the U.S. It operates 28 theaters with a total of 400 screens, making it a relatively small chain.  

It primarily screens independent and artistic films but occasionally showcases high-quality commercial movies.  

This time, Consolidated Theatres signed a two-week distribution contract with Link. Over the next two weeks, Buried Alive would be screened in five theaters under the chain.  

If the film's box office performance met expectations during this period, Consolidated Theatres would consider expanding its screening to all 28 locations.  

Since theaters must invest in venues and promotional costs when distributing films, they hold the dominant position in the partnership. As a result, they take the larger share of box office revenue—65%.  

Link would receive 35%, and he was also expected to cooperate with the theater chain in promotional events.  

This method of film distribution is quite common in the industry.  

Some filmmakers bypass traditional distribution companies and work directly with theater chains.  

For example, the low-budget film My Big Fat Greek Wedding initially had mediocre box office numbers, causing its distributor to lose confidence and refuse further promotional investment. However, the theater chain believed in the film's potential and insisted on continuing to screen it.  

Eventually, with a budget of just $5 million, the film grossed $369 million worldwide, setting a box office record for romantic comedies.  

This distribution model benefits both the production company and the theaters, as they receive a greater share of the profits. However, a downside is the potential lack of transparency in box office reporting.  

If discrepancies arise, production companies are often at a disadvantage.  

So far, Consolidated Theatres had been handling the process well, maintaining transparency in box office reporting.  

Because of this, Link was willing to continue working with them.  

After signing the contract, Buried Alive was released in five theaters across the U.S. on Friday. Four of these theaters held premiere screenings, and Link attended the opening event at the Beverly Hills-United Theater.  

During the premiere, Link answered over ten questions from reporters, including inquiries about the film’s storyline, its themes, and the challenges faced during production.  

Consolidated Theatres invested $300,000 in advertising, running Buried Alive trailers on AMC, the American Movie Classics cable network.  

Compared to the previous premiere, this event was on a much larger scale and had a significantly greater impact.  

Quentin Tarantino and Jerome Preston saw news about the film and even called Link to ask about it.  

"Link, did you really get Buried Alive into theaters?"  

Quentin called to confirm.  

"Yeah, I said I would, and I meant it."  

"You're crazy. How much has it made so far?"  

"Not much—just over $80,000."  

"Eighty grand isn’t bad. Your film only cost $20,000 to produce, so that’s four times its budget already. You didn’t lose money, which is a great start for a new director. Maybe some studios will reach out to work with you—make sure you seize the opportunity."  

"Got it."  

Three days after Buried Alive was released in five theaters, Link received the box office numbers from William Mason.  

Over the opening weekend, the five theaters grossed a total of $148,000, with an average daily box office revenue of $9,866 per theater and an occupancy rate of over 65%.  

For an art house film, a per-theater daily revenue exceeding $10,000 is considered excellent, indicating strong box office potential.  

Buried Alive was just shy of reaching that mark.  

In its opening week, Buried Alive grossed $288,000 across five U.S. theaters, ranking 18th among films released that week.  

Its per-theater daily average of $8,228 was the third highest among all films in release at the time, demonstrating significant box office potential.  

According to the contract with Consolidated Theatres, starting this Friday, the chain would expand Buried Alive to all 28 of its theaters.  

Link continued to follow the promotional schedule arranged by the theater chain, embarking on a roadshow in key box office cities to further promote the film.  

Meanwhile, in Cambridge, Massachusetts, Matt Damon stood on the street, pointing at a large movie poster in front of a local United Theater.  

The three-meter-long poster prominently displayed Buried Alive along with the name of its director and lead actor, Link.  

"Ben, look over there. That’s Link’s movie, Buried Alive."  

Ben Affleck raised an eyebrow. "So, he really is a director."  

"He told us that last time."  

"I thought he was lying. He was dressed like a bum, working in a fast-food joint, didn’t even have a car—who would have thought he was actually a director?"  

"He’s also an actor. A self-directed, self-acted film—it sounds pretty cool. Want to check it out?"  

"Let’s go. Hopefully, it’s not terrible."  

The two walked into the theater and lined up to buy tickets.  

An hour and a half later, Matt Damon and Ben Affleck walked out of the theater with complicated expressions.  

"How is this possible? How is Link so good? Not only was the film incredibly well-made, but his acting was also outstanding. Ben, he’s our age—how is he already this talented?"  

As Matt Damon recalled the scenes from Buried Alive, he couldn’t help but think of the young man who had once worked as a waiter at a burger joint, delivered takeout on a bike, and looked like a drifter on a train.  

For the first time, he truly admired a peer.  

"It’s no big deal. He’s just a little better than us. If we really focus, we’ll catch up within two years." 

Ben Affleck stood with his hands in his pockets, his face expressionless.  

"It's really difficult! Forget about his acting for a moment—just look at his screenwriting and directing skills. A single actor, a single phone, confined in an extremely cramped wooden box, using simple dialogue to present an incredibly grand worldview. And on top of that, he reflects on the Cold War and opposes war through this approach. It's truly remarkable. There's no way I could ever pull that off."  

Matt Damon spoke with a hint of disappointment.  

"Hey, man, don’t be like that. You’re a top student from Harvard—there’s nothing you can’t do. If you think Link is amazing, then make him your goal. Aim to surpass him within three years. Wouldn’t that be cool?"  

Ben Affleck patted his shoulder.  

"That sounds great. I accept your challenge. I’ll take Link as my target. Not three years—give me five. I will surpass him."  

"Haha! Now that’s my guy!"  

Ben Affleck pulled Matt Damon into a tight embrace.  

—  

"Good news! Great news! Link's movie is a huge hit! It made it into this week's top ten at the box office, earning millions of dollars!"  

Los Angeles – Youth Apartment Complex  

Chris Bauer rode his bicycle toward the apartment building, waving a copy of the Los Angeles Times. A group of young men and women were having a party in the open courtyard.  

"What? Link's movie is a hit?"  

"It made the weekly box office top ten?"  

"Didn’t you all say the movie was terrible, that no one would watch it? How did it suddenly blow up?"  

"Chris, let me see that!"  

The group stopped drinking and dancing, scrambling to grab the newspaper from Chris Bauer's hands, eager to see how much Buried had made.  

Upon seeing the numbers printed on the page, they couldn't help but gasp in shock.  

Just then, Monica Bellucci walked by on the pedestrian pathway, carrying a handbag. Her graceful figure immediately caught the attention of the men present.  

"Hey, Monica! Link’s movie is a smash hit! It made over a million dollars at the box office—did you know that?"  

Eric, the guy with floral tattoos, shouted while holding the newspaper.  

Monica Bellucci ignored him. With a cold expression, she swayed her curvaceous hips and disappeared into Apartment 13.  

"Fuck, what an arrogant chick. When I finally get her, I’ll make sure she knows who's boss," Eric muttered in frustration.  

Monica Bellucci climbed to the third floor. As she was unlocking her door, a folded newspaper slipped out of her handbag and fell to the ground.  

The spread opened to a full-page still from Buried.  

The male protagonist's face slowly overlapped in her mind with the young man she had encountered in the hallway.  

Monica Bellucci blinked her long eyelashes, crouched down, and picked up the newspaper.  

(End of Chapter) 

Chapter 23: Box Office Explosion

Buried Alive was released in 28 theaters under the United Cinemas chain for a week, grossing $1.588 million.

Among the films released during the same period, its weekly box office ranked eighth, surpassing Chaplin, which had been in theaters for two weeks, making it a dark horse at the box office.

The total box office earnings of Buried Alive had now reached $2.16 million—108 times its production cost.

After United Cinemas released this data, major media outlets like The Los Angeles Times, Variety, and The New York Post reported on Buried Alive's box office success.

They praised the film’s high quality and acknowledged the strong support it had received from moviegoers.

They also commended Link for his talent, noting how he had taken on multiple roles in the film’s production and excelled in all of them, calling him a "rising star" among young directors.

In its film review section, Variety described Buried Alive as the "hidden gem" of that year’s Sundance Film Festival, stating that it was a shame it hadn't won any awards.

Meanwhile, The New York Post analyzed the film’s artistic value, arguing that Buried Alive was no less impressive than award-winning films like Reservoir Dogs and One False Move.

Due to this media coverage, Link’s name was beginning to gain recognition in Hollywood.

—

"Link, so you were serious when you said your movie could boost theater attendance."

Jerome Preston marveled over the phone.

"Jerome, I told you—I’m an honest man. I don’t lie."

"Alright, I admit it. I underestimated Buried Alive’s potential. I owe you an apology."

"No worries. Buried Alive only made it to theaters thanks to your help."

"Haha, don’t give me too much credit. You’re the one who made it happen. You pushed Buried Alive into theaters no matter what, ignoring everyone’s doubts. William and I thought you were crazy—like a guy who wouldn’t stop until he hit a dead end. But now, these box office numbers prove you were right. Buried Alive has real potential."

"I was just taking a gamble at the time. Fortunately, I won."

"Yeah, congratulations!"

After hanging up, Link entered the Chicago United Theater for a screening, participating in a roadshow event for Buried Alive.

By the second week, thanks to its strong box office performance, Buried Alive expanded its release to 116 theaters across North America.

In addition to the 28 United Cinemas locations, United Artists Theaters added 88 more theaters, bringing the total number of screens to over 2,600.

Theater chains also ramped up marketing efforts, organizing numerous promotional events across the U.S. and Canada, traveling from city to city.

Link spent every day either at a roadshow or on his way to one.

Eager to maximize the film’s box office returns, he gladly participated in these promotional events—quite a contrast to before the film’s release when he had to beg for media attention, only to be ignored.

During its second week in 116 theaters, Buried Alive grossed $3.895 million, ranking fourth in the weekly box office charts.

It was only behind the newly released erotic thriller Basic Instinct, the comedy sports film White Men Can’t Jump, and The Hand That Rocks the Cradle.

It even outperformed Chaplin that week by $230,000.

Buried Alive, a film made on a mere $20,000 budget, had surpassed Chaplin, a $15 million production starring the rising star Robert Downey Jr., in weekly box office earnings.

This development caused a stir in the media.

With the latest numbers in, Buried Alive had now grossed a total of $6.05 million.

—

"$6.05 million? No way! How could so many people watch that garbage movie? Do these audiences have no taste?"

Robert Downey Jr. scowled and threw the newspaper aside upon seeing Buried Alive’s box office earnings surpass Chaplin's.

"In terms of quality, Buried Alive definitely isn’t better than Chaplin," his agent, Jimmy Rich, said. "But it achieved incredible returns with an extremely low budget. Its uniqueness made it a hot topic, attracting a lot of attention in a short time. That’s why its box office numbers keep growing."

"Marketing hype, huh?" Downey Jr. sneered. "Tell Carolco Pictures to ramp up our promotions. Chaplin cannot lose to a $20,000 amateur film!"

"Understood, I’ll take care of it right away."

—

"$6.05 million in two weeks? How is that even possible? People actually like such an intense, hardcore film?"

In an apartment near Sunset Boulevard in Beverly Hills, Quentin Tarantino was flipping through the newspaper, shocked by the numbers.

He had seen Buried Alive. From a professional standpoint, it was a solid film, but the setting was too minimalistic, the themes too intense, and on top of that, the lead actor was an unknown face.

How could a film like that perform so well in the U.S. box office?

Reservoir Dogs had been in theaters for over a month, yet its worldwide box office earnings were only $2.2 million—barely covering its $1.2 million budget.

Thankfully, Reservoir Dogs had strong VHS sales, so neither he nor the investors had lost money.

But Link’s film had been made on just $20,000, played in a limited number of theaters for two weeks, and already grossed over $6 million.

That was a 300-fold return.

Unbelievable.

"Maybe we all misjudged it. Turns out, audiences really enjoy these fresh, unconventional films," said producer Lawrence Bender as he read Buried Alive’s latest reviews in the newspaper.

"Link is one lucky bastard," Tarantino muttered.

*Beep, beep, beep—*

The phone on the table rang. Quentin picked it up and glanced at the screen—it was Harvey Weinstein calling. He was curious about what Harvey wanted at this time.

“Quentin, I remember you mentioning Link before. Do you know him?”

“That’s right. Before I moved, we lived in the same neighborhood.”

“Quentin, I want to meet him. Can you help me get in touch?”

“Harvey, have you taken an interest in Buried? Last time, you said Buried could never be a big hit.”

“Damn it, don’t bring up the past. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Haha, I can try to contact him, but he’s been out promoting the film lately, so he might not have time.”

“Can you ask if he still holds the distribution rights to Buried? I’m willing to pay a high price for them.”

“Alright, I’ll let him know.”

Quentin hung up the phone and shrugged.

“You heard that, right? It’s not just me—Harvey also misjudged. Who would’ve thought Buried, shot on a $20,000 budget, could earn this much at the box office? It’s the biggest box office miracle of the year.”

“Link is truly remarkable,” Lawrence Bender praised.

---

“$6.05 million at the box office—a 300-fold return? Did I really misjudge it?”

On the east end of Hollywood Boulevard, inside the New Line Cinema headquarters, in the president’s office, Robert Shaye pinched a copy of The Los Angeles Times between his slender fingers. His blue-gray eyes were fixed on the numbers in the article, lost in thought.

Seeing Buried immediately reminded him of that day outside the New Line Cinema building—the day that enthusiastic young man had approached him, greeting him warmly and recommending his film, Buried.

As the president of New Line Cinema, Robert Shaye encountered people like him all the time. Ever since New Line had become a well-known production company, the number of filmmakers seeking to pitch their projects had skyrocketed.

He wasn’t surprised by Link’s approach.

Initially, he didn’t want to pay attention, but Link’s plot summary of Buried sounded intriguing. Moreover, the young man exuded confidence and charisma, setting him apart from the usual nervous and hesitant filmmakers.

That was the only reason Robert had agreed to take a look at Buried before getting into his car.

After watching it, he wasn’t impressed. The entire film had only one actor, one setting, and focused on the serious topic of anti-war sentiment.

After discussing it with the heads of distribution, they all agreed that Buried lacked commercial appeal. It didn’t align with current audience preferences, had no market potential, and wasn’t worth acquiring for distribution.

After rejecting Link, Robert later heard from colleagues that Link had approached over twenty other film companies, only to be rejected by every single one.

Seeing that his peers had also turned Buried down, Robert became even more convinced that his decision was correct.

But no one had expected what happened next.

Just a few weeks later, Link self-financed the release of Buried, steadily building up hype and securing screenings in more theaters. The film’s box office revenue kept climbing. Within just two weeks of a limited release, it had earned over $6 million.

A staggering 300-fold return—and that number would only continue to grow as the film remained in theaters.

At the same time, this number felt like a loud, resounding slap in the face.

*Smack!*

It landed hard—not just on him, but on Harvey and every other industry insider who had dismissed the film.

They had been blind—mistaking a gem for a worthless stone.

This was bound to become one of Hollywood’s most infamous blunders.

“Ah… I’m getting old. I really misjudged this one,” Robert Shaye murmured as he touched his thin, aged face.

He picked up the phone and called the distribution department, instructing them to reach out to Link and see if there was still a chance to acquire the North American distribution rights to Buried.

Although Link had a distribution agreement with the theater chains, those chains lacked the expertise, funding, and promotional reach of a professional film distributor.

To minimize financial risk, theaters often opted for small-scale releases, sometimes stretching out the distribution cycle for over a year.

If Buried was going to reach its full box office potential, partnering with a film distribution company was the best option.

Robert Shaye wasn’t sure if Link would be willing to work with New Line, but it was worth a shot. If they could secure the distribution rights, the company would benefit from this unexpected hit.

Moreover, Link had demonstrated exceptional directorial talent and potential—making him a valuable connection for the future.

(End of Chapter)  

Chapter 25: Beverly Hills Mansion  

Link was invited to the Quiver Bar, where, through Quentin’s introduction, he met director Steven Soderbergh.  

Although Steven was completely bald, he was still young—only twenty-nine—and already an accomplished director.  

He rose to fame in 1989 with Sex, Lies, and Videotape, which made him one of Hollywood’s well-known directors.  

Like Quentin, he was also discovered by Harvey Weinstein.  

“Link, when no one believed in Buried, why did you insist on releasing it in theaters? Weren’t you afraid of losing money?” Quentin asked.  

“Of course, I was worried. But I believed that since the film was already made, I had to find a way to get it on the big screen so more audiences could see it. Initially, I hoped to work with a distribution company, but unfortunately, none were interested. So in that situation, I had no choice but to raise funds and release the film myself.”  

“The initial $50,000 came from me,” Quentin reminded him.  

“Thank you! Now, can I buy back that script for $50,000?”  

“What? You want to buy back the script? We signed a contract.”  

“I was just joking, don’t get so tense.”  

Link took a sip from his glass and continued, “After self-financing the release, my plan was to test the waters—if audiences truly didn’t like the film, I would pull it from theaters immediately to minimize losses.  

But once it hit theaters, audiences loved it, and the box office numbers kept growing daily. Eventually, it became what the media called a ‘box office miracle.’”  

Clap, clap, clap!  

Quentin, Lawrence Bender, and Steven Soderbergh applauded his words.  

“Link, you’re incredible. If it were me, I wouldn’t have had the perseverance to go that far,” Quentin said, raising his glass.  

“I feel the same way,” Steven added. “Making movies is expensive, and self-distributing is even more costly. It takes more than just confidence—it takes guts. Link, you’re brave.”  

“Thank you! Honestly, it felt like gambling, but luckily, I won.”  

“Link, you didn’t just win at the box office. You’ve also paved a path for other filmmakers whose work isn’t supported by major studios. I believe many directors and producers will follow in your footsteps in the future,” Lawrence Bender said with a smile.  

“I hope their films do well, too,” Link replied with a grin.  

The truth was, he had the advantage of knowing Buried would make four times its budget. Others didn’t have that certainty.  

If someone else tried to imitate him and insisted on releasing a film that all studios rejected, the risk of bankruptcy would be enormous.  

“Link, when’s your next film? Do you have any plans?” Quentin asked.  

“It’s in preparation now. If all goes well, filming starts next month.”  

“Next month?! Are you serious?”  

Quentin leaned forward, pressing both hands against the table. His facial muscles tensed, making him look almost menacing.  

To an outsider, it might have seemed like they were arguing.  

“It’s true. The script is done. Next, I just need to cast actors and set up the locations. A month is enough time.”  

“The script is already finished?! Are you even human?” Quentin shouted, slapping the table.  

“I’m human. This second film has a simple plot and characters, so it was easy to write.”  

“You work insanely hard! .”  

Quentin frowned, shifting restlessly on the couch.  

After finishing Reservoir Dogs, he had started working on Pulp Fiction, but he never felt rushed. He took his time writing, jotting things down whenever inspiration struck.  

Now, hearing that Link would start filming his second movie next month, Quentin felt a sense of urgency.  

Link was already formidable—his debut film outperformed Quentin’s. And now, he was so hardworking.  

Quentin suddenly felt pressure. He needed to hurry back and finish his script before Link got too far ahead.  

“Link, what’s the budget for this film? Do you have an estimate?” Lawrence Bender, the producer, asked with interest.  

“The budget is modest—under $100,000.”  

“Under $100,000? That low?” Quentin asked in disbelief.  

“I’m a new director. I want to start with a few low-budget films to gain experience. Once I have enough, I’ll move on to bigger projects.”  

“Link, you’re absolutely right,” Steven Soderbergh said. “Gaining experience first increases your chances of success. After Sex, Lies, and Videotape, I rushed into Kafka, and the box office was a disaster.”  

“Link, are you planning to make another low-budget hit? How about we have a little competition—let’s see whose next film performs better at the box office?” Quentin suggested.  

“Just the box office? I might consider it,” Link said, raising an eyebrow.  

Quentin’s challenge reminded him of a dream he had back at the Park City motel.  

In that dream, Quentin didn’t just want to compete in box office numbers—he also wanted to compare award wins.  

Since Pulp Fiction was both a box office and critical success, Link had spent a long time in the dream trying to pick a competing film. He had eventually settled on Lost in Translation, but it hadn’t been a strong contender.  

“How about awards too? Let’s see whose film has the higher quality. Do you dare?” Quentin added.  

“No way. My next few films will focus purely on box office performance, not awards. If I compete with you in that area, my chances of winning are too slim.”  

“Alright, then let’s just compare box office numbers. Loser buys drinks here.”  

“Deal!”  

Link bumped fists with Quentin. 

"Hello, Director Link. It's a pleasure to meet you here."  

Famous action star Bruce Willis, accompanied by two lesser-known actors, stopped in front of the booth and greeted him warmly.  

Bruce Willis was a top-tier Hollywood action star, best known for the first two installments of Die Hard, released in 1988, with a combined box office revenue of $400 million.  

"Mr. Willis, hello. It's a pleasure to meet you as well."  

Link shook hands with Bruce Willis and his two companions.  

"Director Link, Buried is an incredibly profound film. My wife and I both loved it," Bruce Willis remarked.  

"Thank you!"  

After seeing Bruce Willis off, several other industry professionals approached to greet Link—directors, actors, producers, casting directors, and agents. He collected over thirty business cards, with most people expressing interest in potential collaborations.  

"Link, how does it feel to have celebrities chasing after you?" Quentin joked.  

"Not bad," Link replied.  

In America, the poor are treated worse than dogs, while the rich and famous live in luxury.  

"Yeah, it's an addictive feeling—one you can't get enough of. But this is Hollywood, a battleground of fame and fortune. No one stays in the spotlight forever. Steven knows that all too well."  

Quentin glanced at the bald-headed Steven Soderbergh.  

Steven Soderbergh ran a hand over his smooth scalp, a wry smile appearing on his face.  

"That’s true. After Sex, Lies, and Videotape became a hit, I was the talk of Hollywood. But now, barely anyone recognizes me. In this town, not even God can guarantee eternal fame."  

"Steven, this is just temporary. With your talent, you'll definitely become an Academy Award-winning director in the future."  

Link raised his glass to the future Oscar winner.  

"Haha, Link, thanks for the encouragement."  

The two clinked glasses, and Quentin joined in, raising his own.  

As they drank, Quentin got to the real reason he had invited Link out for a drink.  

First, he wanted to congratulate him on the success of Buried, which had made him a Hollywood star.  

Second, he was passing along a message from Harvey Weinstein, the head of Miramax Films.  

Harvey Weinstein admired Link’s work and hoped he would consider prioritizing Miramax for future projects.  

Quentin praised Weinstein’s production skills, Miramax’s strong distribution capabilities in the indie film scene, and—most importantly—Harvey’s ability to secure Oscars through his aggressive campaigning.  

Simply put, working with Harvey Weinstein meant both fame and fortune.  

"These are Harvey’s words, not mine. Whether or not you choose to work with him is entirely up to you," Quentin shrugged.  

"I understand."  

Link wasn’t overly concerned with moral purity, nor did he have strong opinions about Weinstein’s later scandalous history. He wouldn’t hold any grudges against him for it.  

What mattered most in a collaboration was his own personal gain.  

If partnering with Miramax meant greater benefits, then he had no problem working with Weinstein.  

After all, this was America—a capitalist society where every dollar was tainted. Compared to the rampant corruption and exploitation in the industry, Weinstein’s actions were hardly shocking.  

"Hello, Director Link. It’s a pleasure to meet you."  

Before they could continue the conversation, another person approached to greet Link.  

At this stage, Link had little personal network in Hollywood, so he made sure to give proper attention to anyone who initiated conversation.  

After spending some time at the bar, he bid farewell to Quentin and the others, then left in his newly purchased Cadillac to check out properties in Beverly Hills.  

He was planning to move.  

Now that he was famous, staying in a regular apartment was both inconvenient and unsafe.  

Just last Wednesday, he had returned home to find a group of women crowded in the hallway, waiting for him. One of them had even stripped naked right in front of him, screaming as she lunged at him.  

Additionally, the apartment complex was filled with aspiring actors chasing their dreams. As someone with resources, he was constantly being approached, making it difficult to have any peace.  

He had decided to settle in Beverly Hills.  

There was an industry saying: You haven’t truly made it in Hollywood until you own a home in Beverly Hills.  

Beverly Hills was a city within Greater Los Angeles, much like Burbank.  

Situated between Sunset Boulevard, Santa Monica Boulevard, and Wilshire Boulevard, it faced the Pacific Ocean and was backed by the Beverly Hills mountains.  

Because of its prime location and proximity to Hollywood’s major studios, movie stars had been moving there since the 1930s, turning Beverly Hills into one of America’s most famous luxury neighborhoods.  

Mansions were everywhere, mostly large estates and villas.  

However, Link felt that living alone in a massive house would be too isolating.  

Ultimately, he decided on a high-end apartment at 108 South Wilshire Boulevard.  

Located on the 12th floor, the apartment was approximately 3,000 square feet, featuring three bedrooms, four bathrooms, three living areas, a study, a coffee bar, a billiards room, a gym, an equipment room, and a small kitchen. It also had a large floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Wilshire Boulevard.  

The neighborhood was bustling with high-end bars, clubs, luxury boutiques, the Hilton Hotel, and celebrity mansions. It was one of the liveliest and most prestigious areas in Beverly Hills, with excellent security.  

The price? $2.2 million.  

And Link could afford it.  

(End of Chapter.)