The interview area after the premiere was absolute chaos.
Reporters went nuts, completely swarming the main cast and crew. Microphones and recording devices were practically shoved into people's faces. Flashbulbs popped nonstop, sounding like a firefight.
Naturally, Harvey Weinstein stood front and center, arms wide, smiling like he was the second coming.
"That's right, from the first time I read Quentin's script, I knew this movie was going to rewrite film history. Miramax gave him 100% freedom and support from day one—"
He didn't get to finish. An old-school journalist from Cahiers du Cinéma pushed past him and held a microphone up to Uma Thurman.
"Ms. Thurman, Mia Wallace in Pulp Fiction is a controversial character. What convinced you to take on the role? Was it Mr. Weinstein who talked you into it?"
Harvey's mouth was already curved up, waiting for the expected answer.
Uma paused, glancing between Harvey and the crowd. Finally, her eyes landed on Link, who was standing a little distance away.
She smiled, her tone polite. "Mr. Weinstein certainly has guts; he dared to fund such a controversial film..."
She paused, took a deep breath, and her voice slowly became steady. "But the person who really sold me was someone else. He wrote a character analysis that was over a dozen pages long, showing me that Mia wasn't just dangerous; she also had loneliness and dignity."
The reporters went silent for a moment, then instantly became frantic. Someone pressed, "Who is that person?"
Without hesitation, Uma raised her hand and pointed to Link in the crowd.
"His name is Link. The founder of Pangu Pictures. And he is the real reason I trusted this movie."
Instantly, the journalists turned like a tidal wave and surged toward Link, their flashbulbs going crazy.
"Mr. Li, what exactly did you do on the set?"
"Some people say you were the director's behind-the-scenes mentor. Is that true?"
"Why isn't your name mentioned anywhere in Miramax's press releases?"
The questions came rapid-fire.
Link squinted in the blinding flashes and raised a hand to shield his eyes. He smiled, gently pushing the microphones away.
"I'm a producer; I just did my job. This film belongs to the director and the actors. The applause should be for them."
Harvey's smile completely vanished. He squeezed forward, his voice rising in volume. "Pangu is just a collaborator. The real creativity and execution—"
Before he could finish, a British reporter shouted, "Mr. Tarantino! Someone said that the initial draft of this screenplay was written by Mr. Link. Is that true?"
Quentin froze for a beat, glanced at Link, then grinned widely, a brazen smile.
"Yep."
The press area erupted. Harvey's face turned ashen, like he'd just been slapped across the face.
The next day, every major trade paper at Cannes ran the same headlines:
The Miramax 'King' vs. The Pangu Pictures 'Emperor'
The 'Pulp Fiction' Behind-the-Scenes War: Who is the Real Genius?
Harvey Weinstein's livid face and Link's calm smile were printed side-by-side on every newspaper.
He had become a joke.
Now, inside the Miramax suite at the Carlton Hotel, the air was thick enough to wring.
"That... that son of a bitch completely ruined all our plans!" Mara, the Head of Publicity, was shaking. "Now all the media is digging into Pangu and Link! Harvey, we... we can't control it anymore."
Unexpectedly, Harvey didn't roar.
He sat on the sofa, using a silk handkerchief to meticulously wipe a small replica of an Oscar statuette, rubbing it aggressively, over and over.
"Control?" He finally looked up, his eyes cold as ice.
"At Cannes, I am the rules. If he wants to play, he plays by my rules."
He threw the silk handkerchief down violently, his voice coming out in a strained hiss.
"Listen up!"
"First, shut down all the media! Anyone who wants to interview Pangu has to go through us! I want to turn that kid into a mute!"
"Then, hype Quentin up like a god! Throw every single resource we have at him! Say he's the once-in-a-lifetime genius Miramax discovered! Everyone else, keep your mouths shut!"
"And..." He paused, a look of twisted, cruel amusement appearing on his face. "Find a few reliable sources and leak anonymous stories. Say that producer was an arrogant egomaniac on set and had serious clashes with the director. The success of Pulp Fiction is the result of the director's defiance and Miramax's support."
He wasn't trying to destroy the film.
He wanted to erase every trace of Link's existence in this story, like scratching a signature off a masterpiece.