The morning sun fell on the straight road, illuminating the English letters filling the street.
Ronan, reeking of alcohol, stood in front of a newsstand, staring intently at a copy of the Los Angeles Times.
The date on the newspaper was marked January 5, 1998.
Ronan rubbed his haggard face and scratched his bird’s nest-like hair.
In truth, he had realized what had happened when he woke up in the bar at dawn, but now it was fully confirmed.
He had come to 1998 Los Angeles from the other side of the Pacific, more than twenty years in the future.
To be precise, this was Burbank, a satellite city of Los Angeles.
“Morning, Mr. Anderson,” the newsstand owner greeted him proactively.
“Want a newspaper?”
Ronan nodded, bought a copy of the Los Angeles Times, and walked toward the entrance of the small office building nearby.
“Isn’t that Ronan Anderson?” A stout middle-aged woman emerged from the newsstand.
“Look at that pathetic state! He’s truly a prodigal son; Old Anderson’s fortune and company have all been squandered by him.”
The newsstand owner pulled the woman.
“Lisa, don’t talk nonsense.”
The middle-aged woman muttered, “It’s the truth, isn’t it.”
These words reached him, but Ronan ignored them.
They were right; the previous owner of this body had indeed fallen into a predicament.
Arriving in front of the office building, he easily found the name Sand Sea Entertainment among the hanging plaques.
Ronan didn’t enter the building immediately, staring at the golden company plaque in silence.
After drinking with advertising clients, he had returned home drunk, laid down, and when he woke up, he had arrived in a bar in Los Angeles from the other side of the Pacific, becoming this guy named Ronan Anderson.
Because they had names with the same pronunciation?
From waking up at dawn until now, his chaotic thoughts had gradually become clear.
Having read quite a few transmigration novels, accepting all of this wasn’t difficult.
On the other side of the Pacific, he had been a loner; aside from a decent job, he didn’t have many attachments.
Ronan lowered his eyes, and the memories of Ronan Anderson flooded his mind.
This guy could be described in one sentence: his heart was higher than the sky, but his life was thinner than paper.
Ronan Anderson had a good background.
His father, Old Anderson, was a millionaire who founded Sand Sea Entertainment in the eighties, mainly engaged in film production.
The company was small in scale, mainly producing direct-to-video b-movies.
Old Anderson was a typical conservative who never touched projects with investments over a million dollars.
In the ten years since its founding, the works were obscure, but he had accumulated a considerable fortune.
More than a year ago, Old Anderson and his wife went hiking in a Utah geological park, encountered a landslide, and both died.
The company and the family fortune all fell to Ronan Anderson.
Nineteen-year-old Ronan Anderson dropped out of the USC School of Cinematic Arts and took over Sand Sea Entertainment.
The company was small, and Ronan Anderson held all the shares.
The young man’s ideas were very radical; he wanted to develop Sand Sea Entertainment into a big company, completely negating Old Anderson’s business strategy.
He bet almost all the company and personal cash, the insurance proceeds of Old Anderson and his wife, and mortgaged the family home to raise a massive six million dollars to shoot and produce a bloody action film called dead end life.
This was an era when action films were popular; even art-house stars like Nicolas Cage had transformed into action stars.
Unfortunately, last October, dead end life was released in North America and was pulled from theaters after just four weeks.
The North American box office barely reached eight hundred thousand dollars.
After the distributor deducted various expenses, the box office share that Sand Sea Entertainment received was negligible.
The film bombed in North America, and there were no takers for the overseas distribution rights.
In the following two months, Sand Sea Entertainment’s capital chain broke, the bank came to collect debts, employees resigned one after another, and Ronan Anderson fell into a predicament where both the company and himself were on the verge of bankruptcy.
This young man, whose heart was higher than the sky, collapsed instantly and began frequenting bars to drown his sorrows.
Then he arrived here.
“It’s not like his last name is Ellison, yet he dared to drop out to invest in making movies.”
Ronan really didn’t know what to say.
Judging from the memories left behind, that guy did have talent, and could even be called a high-achieving student at the USC School of Cinematic Arts.
Especially in screenwriting, he had considerable accomplishments.
The script for dead end life was written by young Anderson himself.
But talent and success simply cannot be equated.
It was too idealistic, too impulsive.
To actually invest almost all his capital into a high-risk commodity like movies.
Based on Ronan’s many years of industry experience, the best way to invest in films is to borrow a chicken to lay eggs.
Of course, borrowing a chicken to lay eggs is also very difficult.
In his previous life, while living on the other side of the Pacific, Ronan graduated from a second-rate drama school and had always been engaged in industries related to film and television production.
Initially working as an assistant on film crews, relying on hard work and various methods, he stepped over countless competitors along the way to become a small producer.
With the popularity of internet video, he moved to Penguin Video, coordinating some content production and operations work.
Looking at the Sand Sea Entertainment plaque, then thinking about the wealth of film knowledge and operational experience in his head, Ronan suddenly smiled.
Hollywood, the internet—there is much to be gained.
By going with the flow of the times, perhaps there is a chance to stand at the highest point and view the scenery.
Once standing high enough, the money and beautiful women one likes…
But thinking of the mess young Anderson left behind, he couldn’t stop the headache.
Ronan tucked the newspaper under his arm and entered the office building.
It was right at office hours, and there were many people coming and going; many eyes glanced at him.
Even some people’s discussions could reach him.
“A company that Old Anderson developed over ten years, and his son ruined it in just over a year.”
“Do you think Old Anderson will be so angry he’ll crawl out of his grave?”
“Look at his decadent appearance; who knows when he might go jump off a building.”
“Young Anderson is such a failure as a person.”
Ronan acted as if he didn’t hear any of it and arrived at Sand Sea Entertainment on the second floor.
The remaining four employees had already arrived.
The company wasn’t very big; including his office, it was estimated to be a few dozen square meters.
Originally, the company had nearly twenty people, but most had resigned and left.
The last four employees were all Old Anderson’s trusted confidants from back in the day.
Among the four, a brown-haired woman in her forties walked over and asked with concern, “Ronan?”
“I’m fine, Mary,” Ronan shook his head.
The other party used to be Old Anderson’s assistant and later served as the company’s CFO; her work ability was very strong.
Just as Ronan entered the office, a middle-aged man around forty followed behind him.
“Mr. Anderson,” he placed a document on the desk.
“This is my resignation letter.”
Taking the resignation letter, Ronan scanned it briefly and said, “Jamie, the company hasn’t gone bankrupt yet.”
This was also a talent; he wanted to try to keep him.
But Jamie didn’t hesitate at all.
“I’m very sorry, I have a mortgage and a car loan, and two children; I cannot take the risk.”
A twisted melon is not sweet; Ronan nodded gently.
“Is the new job lined up?”
“Yes,” Jamie replied.
Ronan picked up a pen, signed the resignation letter, pressed the intercom, and asked Mary to handle the resignation procedures for Jamie.
Just as Jamie left the office, he faintly heard an argument coming from outside.
That was Mary’s voice questioning Jamie.
Ronan was very clear that the company’s morale was gone.
If there were no countermeasures, it wouldn’t be long before the remaining people all resigned.
How could he get out of this predicament as soon as possible?
A knock on the door sounded.
Ronan answered, and Mary pushed the door open and entered.
“Ms. Judith from the bank is here.”
The predecessor had been avoiding the bank, but Ronan knew this was not a solution.
He said, “Please ask her to come in.”
A tall, blonde woman followed Mary into the office.
“Hello, Ms. Judith.”
“Hello, Mr. Anderson.” Judith placed the payment reminder in front of Ronan.
Smelling the unpleasant odor of alcohol, a flash of disgust crossed her eyes, and she said directly, “Your company’s one million dollar mortgage loan with our bank is due in three months, and your personal one million dollar real estate mortgage loan is due in six months.”
Ronan looked at the payment reminder and said, “I know.”
Judith reminded him, “I hope you can repay on time.”
The blonde woman didn’t say anything more and left.
Ronan put away the payment reminder.
Banks rarely come to collect debts in person; the bank must be very worried about the situation of Sand Sea Entertainment.
The million-dollar loan for Sand Sea Entertainment was an old debt, using the copyrights of films produced by the company before 1997 as collateral; what Ronan Anderson mortgaged was the North Hollywood apartment he inherited from Old Anderson.
Unless it was a last resort, the bank didn’t want to take enforcement measures.
He had previously wanted to accomplish something, but now facing a huge debt of two million dollars, Ronan had a headache and subconsciously had the thought of running away.
Taking a deep breath, Ronan dismissed this unreliable thought; it wasn’t the end of the road yet.
To want to use one’s own advantages to achieve a career, even as a reborn person, it wouldn’t be easily obtained.
He looked at the middle-aged woman: “Mary, how much money is left in the company’s account?”
Since the finance staff had all resigned, Mary had been doubling in that role, and immediately replied: “25,000 dollars.”
Ronan had five thousand dollars in living expenses here.
What could 30,000 dollars in capital do?
Earn 2 million dollars in half a year?
What a joke.
This amount of money wasn’t even enough for salaries and daily expenses.
Utilities, office rent, network communications, etc., all needed money.
At most two months without pay, even the most loyal Mary wouldn’t be able to hold on; almost everyone here in the US consumes in advance.
Mary reminded him: “The video and television rights for dead end life are still there. We can sell them to Blockbuster, and we can hold on for a while.”
“Let me think about it.”
Ronan waved his hand.
Mary wanted to say something but stopped, turned around, and left the office.
For a film that bombed at the box office, it was impossible for the post-release rights to be sold for a high price.
Thinking for a while, he had no clues for now.
Apart from that copy of the Los Angeles Times, Ronan asked Mary to help buy a pile of recent newspapers and magazines and began to read them carefully.
Having just arrived here, he urgently needed information.
If he started doing things without understanding the social situation, he would definitely end up battered and bruised.
While reading the papers, he also took out a pen and a notebook to record useful information.
After flipping through them for the whole morning, Ronan had recorded two big pages and circled the most important ones.
Last weekend, Titanic, directed by James Cameron, broke 200 million dollars in North American box office.
High-tech stocks soared all the way, the NASDAQ index continued to climb, and Cisco and Yahoo received much attention.
A community blog website called Metafilter, initiated by someone named Matt Haughey, drew criticism from critics.
The Abu Dhabi Investment Authority from the Middle East tycoon UAE established an office in Los Angeles.
Last year, the number of cinema admissions in North America exceeded 1.4 billion.