Chapter 0998: "Kung Fu Hustle"

Not everyone was as clever as Dong Chenxi.

At the very least, many people at Future Film thought they were the smartest.

"Someone wants to resign?"

The next day, Zhao Fusheng was at home pondering the script when he received a call from Bai Jie.

"Yes, three department managers and about a dozen others," Bai Jie said calmly. "I'm calling to ask for your instructions—can I fire them all?"

By "fire," she naturally meant termination of contract.

"No need."

Zhao Fusheng smiled faintly. "Accept their resignations, have them hand over their work, and then kick them out."

They were just small fry. At his current level, bickering with them would be beneath him and, more importantly, a waste of his emotions.

"But their behavior..." Bai Jie was still reluctant. In her view, choosing to resign at this time was nothing short of betrayal.

"It doesn't matter. They'll regret it," Zhao Fusheng said with a smile. "Think about it—when they look back and realize they left just as Future Film was facing difficulties but about to take off, how will they feel?"

Bai Jie blinked, feeling as if she had been convinced by Zhao Fusheng.

After hanging up, Zhao Fusheng narrowed his eyes, a faint, ambiguous smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

Those who knew him well understood that the calmer Zhao Fusheng appeared, the more turbulent his inner thoughts were.

"Interesting," he muttered to himself. He said nothing more and lowered his head, beginning to recall the famous kung fu comedy in his mind.

Under these circumstances, if he wanted to break the ice, he had no choice but to let Stephen Chow down.

Nowadays, Stephen Chow was the comedy king in Hong Kong, with his earlier classic works revered as masterpieces.

But Zhao Fusheng had inquired and found that the deeply impressive film "Kung Fu Hustle" had not appeared. It seemed that he, the little butterfly, had caused a storm.

After all, even Feng Xiaogang hadn't appeared, so naturally there was no candidate for the Axe Gang leader.

Regardless, this meant Zhao Fusheng could write "Kung Fu Hustle." As for the actors, he wouldn't have to search too hard. The Hong Kong film industry was in a slump; top stars had to go north to the mainland for money, let alone lesser-known supporting actors.

As for the lead, naturally it would be Stephen Chow.

And Zhao Fusheng wasn't afraid he wouldn't accept. The script itself was of high quality, fitting his temperament and style. Moreover, Zhao Fusheng knew well that this former "Sing Jai" and future "Sing Yeh" was inherently money-hungry. As long as the pay was right, plus box office dividends, he wouldn't refuse.

Many people like to idolize the celebrities they know, treating them as immortals untouched by worldly concerns, noble to the point of absurdity, constantly claiming they owe someone a movie ticket or posting nostalgic sentiments on social media.

But in reality?

In the entertainment industry, a graveyard of bones, those who fight their way through thousands of troops—none are pure as white lotuses. Regardless of gender, every single one has some dark history. Good, clean people don't become celebrities.

Zeng Zhiwei, aka "Monk Fruit," once openly declared at a dinner party: "If you want a role, first get in bed."

As for Jackie Chan's romantic escapades, they need no elaboration.

Stephen Chow is no different. At heart, he and that mainland sketch king who always plays a farmer are essentially the same. On screen, they portray everyman characters, giving a strong sense of relatability, but in reality, their conduct is quite mediocre.

At the very least, Zhao Fusheng couldn't bring himself to mistreat his collaborators, making millions while paying them a mere hundred thousand.

Image has always been something that can be crafted—this is a hallmark of the multimedia age.

As for what happens after the persona collapses, does it matter? It doesn't.

After all, the money is already in hand.

Even if, by bad luck, like a certain "veteran actor" male star, the persona crumbles and the mask of erudition is torn off, it's no big deal. At worst, keep a low profile, and when a new drama airs, you're back in the game.

Zhao Fusheng didn't care about that. He was a businessman; what actors did behind the scenes was none of his concern. As long as they didn't do anything outrageous in front of him, he wasn't very interested in the stories behind the scenes.

Of course, if someone affected his business, Zhao Fusheng wouldn't mind teaching them how to be a qualified actor.

...

...

Writing a script was a tedious process. Even Zhao Fusheng found it boring, but there was no choice. Under these circumstances, even he couldn't easily trust scripts from others.

That was why Zhao Fusheng had agreed to Bai Jie.

Entrusting a matter so crucial to the company's future to others was not in Zhao Fusheng's nature.

Fortunately, Fan Baobao had flown to Zhou Yun's hometown a few days ago to help prepare for the wedding, so she wasn't home. Otherwise, she would have been startled by Zhao Fusheng.

A week later.

With three days left before returning to Ninghai, Zhao Fusheng finally finished writing the script for "Kung Fu Hustle."

"Register it at the copyright office, then hand it to Bai Jie," he said, handing it to Zhang Qian, his face full of exhaustion.

"How long have you been awake?" Zhang Qian frowned.

"Three days," Zhao Fusheng waved his hand. "I'm going to sleep. Let's talk later."

With that, he turned and headed straight for the bedroom. He hadn't slept for days and was utterly exhausted.

Zhang Qian watched Zhao Fusheng's retreating figure, sighed, shook his head helplessly, and went out to handle the errand.

First, he went to the copyright office to go through the registration process, then took the copyright certificate to Future Film.

"Why are you here?"

Seeing Zhang Qian, Bai Jie was slightly surprised. She had a deep impression of this young man who always followed Zhao Fusheng. In her memory, Zhang Qian rarely spoke, but Zhao Fusheng trusted him immensely, entrusting almost all confidential matters to him.

Dong Chenxi had once mentioned to Bai Jie that the overseas registration of Future Investment Fund was handled solely by Zhang Qian, showing how much Zhao Fusheng trusted him.

Though reluctant to admit it, Bai Jie had to say that compared to Zhang Qian, she might not enjoy Zhao Fusheng's trust as much.

"The script," Zhang Qian said succinctly, handing the script to Bai Jie.

"Ah?" Bai Jie was taken aback and quickly took it to read.

After a long while, she looked up and said hoarsely, "This is it?"

"Yes. He stayed up three days and nights."

Zhang Qian, who rarely spoke more than necessary, said calmly, "The actors are all written in. Just contact them."

He paused, glanced at Bai Jie, and added, "Don't let him down."

Then, without another word, Zhang Qian turned and left.

Leaving Bai Jie standing there, dumbfounded.

...

...

Zhao Fusheng, of course, knew nothing of this. He slept like the dead at home and didn't open his eyes until noon the next day.

"How long did I sleep?"

Looking up, he saw Fan Baobao sitting nearby, watching him.

"Zhang Qian said about a full day."

Miss Fan had just returned from Zhou Yun's hometown. Seeing her boyfriend's state, she said with some concern, "Can't you stop pushing yourself so hard?"

She didn't know about the script writing; Zhang Qian only said it was company business, and Fan Baobao assumed it was about Future Advertising.

Zhao Fusheng smiled bitterly and shook his head helplessly. "It's not about the advertising company."

"Huh?" Hearing this, Fan Baobao raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? What is it then?"

She knew that Zhao Fusheng owned some equity in Future Advertising.

In Fan Baobao's understanding, this was normal. After all, he was the chief advertising planner at Future Advertising, and offering some equity as a reward to retain a top planner was common.

But now, from Zhao Fusheng's words, it seemed it wasn't about the advertising company.

"It's like this: Future Film has run into some trouble recently, mainly..." Zhao Fusheng recounted what had happened at Future Film, from Ye Jing's recent setbacks to the current difficulties, and the solutions Bai Jie and Zheng Yao had discussed after careful consideration—he told Fan Baobao everything.

Of course, he omitted the part where Bai Jie and Zheng Yao had reported to him, simply saying they didn't dare trust outside screenwriters for fear of being cheated, so they hoped he would write the script.

Fan Baobao didn't think much of it. Zhao Fusheng's explanation was perfectly reasonable, and since Future Film was her contracted company, her focus was naturally on that.

"You mean Future Film needs to produce a movie and a TV series, and they have to be profitable to attract other investors?" Fan Baobao asked, looking at Zhao Fusheng.

Zhao Fusheng nodded and smiled. "That's the gist, but the most important thing is actually about splitting and weakening the opposition. As long as Future Film's productions make money, then next time Future Film proposes to join an investment in a film or TV series, other investors will see it as a good project."

There was too much complexity and too much dirty business involved. Zhao Fusheng couldn't explain it all to Fan Baobao. He couldn't tell her that domestic film companies were all bullies who wouldn't dare meddle with monsters like China Film Group but would secretly trip up newcomers like Future Film.

But these guys were like hunting dogs—when they caught the scent of profit, they'd quickly swarm in, like sharks smelling blood in the ocean.

And that was exactly the trait Zhao Fusheng intended to exploit.