Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]-Chapter 103
Not only ordinary audiences had watched the special screening together.
Many of Sheng Quan's "peers" had also squeezed time out of their busy schedules to step into the cinema.
When they entered, they carried the mindset of "Let me see what tricks Xing Mang is pulling this time." But by the time they left, one after another fell into silence.
Some even remained seated long after the film ended, motionless, as if lost in thought, until staff came to urge them out. Their steps were slow, almost dragging.
One even stumbled while walking, requiring quick support from their subordinate.
It wasn’t that they lacked the same level of acceptance as the general audience.
What the audience saw was "the movie is amazing" and "holographic projection is mind-blowing!"
But these executives, who shared the same industry circle as Sheng Quan, saw something else—the inevitable revolution the entire entertainment industry would face with the emergence of holographic projection technology.
And if they thought a little deeper, they could guess:
If holographic projection is already here, what about the rest of the holographic-related technologies?
Could Sheng Quan, no longer just "Little Sheng" but a formidable force, already possess the kind of equipment shown in the film—full-dive holographic pods that allow users to experience a second, lifelike world?
Sheng Quan had always been ten steps ahead. Rushing to produce a movie centered around holographic gaming—was it really just to showcase holographic projection?
At a cinema in Shanghai, Xie Wanzhao exited the theater, descended to the parking garage, and got into her car.
She opened her phone and saw the trending topic #TheBestPlayerHologram rapidly climbing on the hot search list. Taking a deep breath, she couldn’t tell whether she felt excitement or melancholy.
"The winds are changing," she murmured.
Her assistant, who had just taken the passenger seat, quickly checked the weather app.
Sure enough—it had been sunny when they left, but a heavy downpour was on its way.
"Holographic projection?! In a cinema?! Is this for real?!"
The news wasn’t just spreading like wildfire online. What’s the first thing netizens do after seeing explosive news? Share it with friends and family, of course.
Countless office workers, mid-shift, suddenly found themselves gossiping: "It’s real, check the trending searches—it’s about The Best Player."
"Is this just marketing?" A colleague, well-versed in the entertainment industry’s tricks, questioned. "Isn’t The Best Player about holographic gaming? They’re probably using 'holograms' as a gimmick."
But after a quick scroll through her phone, she backtracked:
"Who cares if it’s marketing? Even if it is, it’s holographic projection."
Many shared her sentiment. They didn’t care whether this was a promotional stunt—if the holograms were real, even a 999-yuan ticket would be worth it.
Recording wasn’t allowed in cinemas, and most viewers had been too awestruck to try. Only a handful managed to sneak short clips.
Given the circumstances, theaters turned a blind eye—unless someone went too far.
No matter how many skeptics cried, "How could holographic tech exist now?" the footage—some clear, some blurry—was undeniable proof.
[I didn’t believe it at first, but everyone who bought tickets for the special screening is saying the same thing. Can all of them be paid shills?]
[I’ve already got tickets for tomorrow’s special screening. Can’t wait to see for myself.]
[No official statement yet, but I doubt it’s just hype. Remember Stellar War? That crew straight-up invented a bunch of high-tech gadgets. People called them fake back then, but now? Guide-dog robots are still sold out everywhere.]
With evidence piling up, swarms of netizens scrambled to buy tickets—only to find every last one sold out, even the worst seats.
[Hahahaha! The moment I heard "holographic projection" during the movie, I rushed to buy a ticket for the day after. Genius move. So hyped!]
[Nooo! I hesitated for a second, and now they’re all gone!]
[Looking to buy a special screening ticket—willing to pay triple!]
[Triple? They’re going for five times the price now. Get with the times.]
[Five times?! That’s over 1,500 yuan! You guys are insane!]
[I’ve got one. A classmate offered five times the price, but after thinking it over, I’m keeping it. Money can be earned later, but if this is the only chance to see holographic cinema…]
Those who hadn’t seen it wanted to witness the magic for themselves.
Those who had were desperate for a rewatch. When they couldn’t get special screening tickets, they turned to regular screenings—only to find those sold out too.
Yu Miao, who had been raving about the film to everyone she knew, stared at her phone in disbelief.
"Not a single ticket left—not even the worst seats."
Her best friend, who had endured her enthusiastic rambling and was now hoping to catch a regular screening, did a quick search.
"...Seriously?! Regular tickets are already triple the price! These scalpers are ruthless!"
Yu Miao, still in full fangirl mode, switched to her "Sheng Quan stan" persona. "Of course! Anything Xing Mang puts out, scalpers go wild for."
Her friend glared. "Why are you proud of that? We can’t get tickets now!"
Yu Miao’s face fell. "Oh. Right." She frantically tapped her screen. "Aaaah! You have no idea how good it is, how mind-blowing the ending is! If I can’t watch it with you, I won’t sleep tonight!"
Just as they were desperately refreshing for cancellations, a work group notification popped up—@everyone.
Yu Miao clicked in.
[@all, surprise benefit: Each department member gets one free ticket to Polaris: The Best Player. Outstanding employees get two. Contact your supervisor to claim.]
The entire group: "!!!!"
With The Best Player in such high demand—tickets were practically gold dust—getting them for free was an absolute windfall.
Even those who didn’t care for movies could resell them for a tidy profit. This was an unexpected jackpot.
Star Employee Yu Miao: "!!!!"
Ahhhhhhh!!
Overwhelmed with excitement, she hugged her best friend tightly: "Long live Starry Light!! Long live President Sheng!!!"
To be honest, distributing the complimentary tickets was indeed Sheng Quan's idea.
Not only were these tickets a drop in the bucket for her financially, but as the production company, securing them was a breeze.
With a stack of tickets in hand, of course, she’d share them with her own people.
Since the company didn’t impose any confidentiality, employees who received the tickets naturally flaunted them happily.
Most posted about it on their social media, but some even bragged about it on Weibo.
Yesterday I was complaining about not being able to buy tickets, and today the company hands out "The Players" movie tickets as a perk! This must be the perk of being an insider (smirks).
Netizens who couldn’t snag tickets: "How infuriating!!"
"The Players" was already a hit, but after the first wave of viewers gave it rave reviews, even the hesitant audience rushed to join the ticket queues. Add the allure of [holographic projection], and tickets became even harder to get.
So, while everyone was desperately scrambling for tickets, here was a company generously handing them out as employee benefits.
The Weibo post quickly racked up countless comments.
At first glance: Which company has such amazing benefits? | Upon closer look: Oh, it's Starry Light. That explains it.
["Wuwuwu Starry Light actually gives tickets to their employees at a time like this—this is the dream company."]
["I saw a Starry Light employee flexing their tickets on my feed too. Not saying who’s jealous here."]
["Did some digging—turns out top performers even get two tickets! Ahhhhh! If you watch one and sell the other, that’s basically a free 1,000+ yuan! President Sheng is too generous!"]
Starry Light's benefits are legendary, so this isn't surprising, but that doesn't stop me from being jealous.
["No wonder everyone says Starry Light is hard to get into, yet every graduation season, fresh grads still fight tooth and nail to join."]
["After two days of frantic ticket hunting with zero luck, I’m howling at the moon—please let me join Starry Light after graduation! I’m well-rounded in every way and will be a diligent little cog in the Starry Light machine."]
Just like in China, news about "The Players" spread like wildfire in every country where it premiered.
Ordinary viewers were thrilled, raving about how amazing the movie was while eagerly anticipating the dawn of the holographic era.
The slightly more perceptive ones immediately started analyzing how holography would impact their industries.
And the sharpest CEOs? They were already trying to get in touch with Sheng Quan.
Once again, President Sheng’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing.
But even noisier were the phones of her three assistants and Starry Light Entertainment’s dedicated liaison department.
Sheng Quan had seen this coming.
Among the flood of calls, Polar Studios’ official line hadn’t reached out yet.
"No worries, they’ll come soon enough."
After saying this to Brother Jiang, she signaled the company’s official accounts—which had stayed silent until now—to respond.
That same day, another hashtag trended:
#Holographic Game Pods in "Polar: The Players" May Be Real#
