Chapter 1017: Wishful Thinking?

In the end, Zhao Fusheng did not reveal to Bai Jie exactly who he had contacted to reach Stephen Chow.

Mainly because nothing was finalized yet, and saying it so early would be pointless.

He had Zhang Qian drop him off first, then take Bai Jie to the company. After entering his home, Zhao Fusheng let out a long breath.

In fact, throughout the day, he had been worried: what if the People's Art Theatre made exorbitant demands or backed out at the last minute?

But fortunately, it seemed he had been measuring others with his own petty yardstick; they showed no intention of reneging.

With that, the TV series side was secure with People's Art Theatre personnel. Whether behind-the-scenes staff or the director, the People's Art Theatre had its own school. Perhaps their influence couldn't match those celebrities who frequently made entertainment news, but in terms of skill, they were evenly matched or even superior.

As for the film side, it all depended on whether Leslie Cheung's influence would work on Stephen Chow.

As it turned out, Leslie Cheung was Leslie Cheung—even Stephen Chow, known in the entertainment circle as a recluse, had to give him face.

In the afternoon, Zhao Fusheng was reading newspapers at home when he received a call from an unfamiliar number.

"Hello, is this Zhao Fusheng?" The person on the other end spoke in a Hong Kong-accented Mandarin, clearly not very fluent.

Zhao Fusheng paused, then smiled and said, "Hello, I am Zhao Fusheng."

In fact, in that instant, he had already recognized who was speaking.

"Hello, I am Stephen Chow."

The speaker's voice was slow, as if each word required effort to find the right tone.

"Ah, hello, Mr. Chow."

Zhao Fusheng was quite polite. After all, he wasn't familiar with the man, so naturally he couldn't reveal a fan's mentality—otherwise, the subsequent business negotiations would be impossible.

"Brother has told me everything. You are his friend, so you are my friend." Stephen Chow's speech gradually quickened, clearly because Leslie Cheung had said something to him.

"Brother is too kind. I just helped him with a few small favors," Zhao Fusheng said with a smile.

Since Leslie Cheung had described him as a good friend, Zhao Fusheng wouldn't stand on ceremony. As long as he could get Stephen Chow to agree to make a film for him, nothing else mattered.

"I've heard about the film from Brother. If you don't mind, I'd like to take a look at the script," Stephen Chow said over the phone in a very polite tone, making it seem like he was easy to get along with.

Little did one know, on set, this man was no different from a tyrant.

At least, in Zhao Fusheng's understanding, all the rumors online, including evaluations from industry insiders who had dealt with Stephen Chow, described him as a typical half-angel, half-devil.

But undeniably, in the history of Chinese comedy and even the entire Chinese film industry, Stephen Chow was a monument that could never be surpassed.

No matter how successful any comedian became, they would inevitably be compared to Stephen Chow and ultimately have to admit they were far behind him.

Living in the same era as him was both a blessing and a tragedy.

A blessing to witness the birth of countless classics; a tragedy to be forever overshadowed by his brilliance.

And now, Zhao Fusheng was about to witness the birth of another miracle. He suddenly felt an exhilarating sense of creating a legend.

"No problem. Our company will send someone to Hong Kong to deliver the script to you as soon as possible," Zhao Fusheng said with a smile. "Of course, if you're in a hurry, we can send it directly to your company's email."

These words carried an underlying meaning.

After all, Future Film had tried several times to contact Stephen Chow's side before, only to be rebuffed each time. While Zhao Fusheng wasn't exactly resentful, he was curious to see Stephen Chow's reaction to this.

But to his surprise, Stephen Chow seemed unfazed by his words and continued, "In that case, if you don't mind, could you ask the screenwriter to come in person? I heard from Brother that your company intends for me to be the director, is that right?"

Zhao Fusheng frowned. "Mr. Chow is correct. We do want you to direct, but what does that have to do with the screenwriter?"

"It's like this: when I make a film, I need to communicate with the screenwriter. After all, the script is created by the screenwriter, but the actual filming is up to me. As the two people who know the film best, we need to have a good talk," Stephen Chow explained patiently, showing none of the aloofness he was rumored to have.

But the more he acted this way, the more Zhao Fusheng was convinced that the rumors were true: when it came to performance, he was a pure actor.

But away from the set, he was a shrewd businessman.

Clearly, by asking both the screenwriter and the investor to come to Hong Kong, he intended to negotiate the distribution of interests.

The more he acted this way, the more Zhao Fusheng wanted to cooperate with him. After all, someone who puts interests on the table is far better than those who play dirty tricks behind the scenes.

After setting a time, Zhao Fusheng hung up the phone with a satisfied smile.

Instead of turning off his phone, he dialed Bai Jie's number.

"What's up? Something wrong?" Bai Jie was a bit puzzled. If Zhao Fusheng had something to clarify, he should have said it in the car. Why call now?

"Stephen Chow contacted me. In a few days, you'll lead a team and come with me to Hong Kong," Zhao Fusheng said calmly.

"What?"

Bai Jie sat in her office, her voice suddenly rising by a dozen decibels as she shot to her feet: "Say that again?"

"I said, Zhou Xingxing's side has already been contacted. Later, you bring the script and the company's team, and we'll go over together to discuss the collaboration," Zhao Fusheng said calmly. "Remember, we can give him the director's seat, let him choose the actors, and he can take a share of the box office, but there's one thing: for this film, I want to guarantee quality. If the box office doesn't reach over fifty million Hong Kong dollars, he won't get a single cent!"

Fifty million Hong Kong dollars!

Bai Jie never expected Zhao Fusheng to have such an appetite.

After all, fifty million Hong Kong dollars, based on last year's box office results, would basically be the champion across the three regions.

Of course, that was without counting Hollywood blockbusters.

But even so, in Bai Jie's view, Zhao Fusheng's goal, even with Zhou Xingxing as director and lead actor, was still a bit too crazy.

"Fusheng, fifty million Hong Kong dollars, isn't that a bit much?" Hesitating, Bai Jie felt she should remind Zhao Fusheng, lest he clash with Zhou Xingxing later.

After all, he was the number one comedy film figure in the three regions now. If they pushed him too hard and he walked away, refusing to cooperate, where would Future Films find another comedy master?

Zhao Fusheng laughed: "What, you have no faith in me, or no faith in Zhou Xingxing? You've seen the script; you know its quality. Do you think, with Zhou Xingxing's acting skills and directing level, if this film can't pull in fifty million at the box office, what's the point of our investment?"

Bai Jie fell silent. Zhao Fusheng's words seemed like sophistry, but they actually made some sense.

If he and Zhou Xingxing joined forces and still couldn't create a box office miracle, then what was the point of everything Future Films was doing now?

The best actor!

The best director!

The best screenwriter!

The best script!

Naturally, also the highest box office!

Moreover, without the stimulus of such high box office, who would be willing to follow Future Films' lead?

Zhao Fusheng saw this clearly, because he knew exactly what the film industry was like.

...

...

In the evening, Fan Baobao came home from work.

"I heard you went to our compound today?" Fan Baobao asked Zhao Fusheng.

Zhao Fusheng nodded: "Bai Jie and I went to finalize the collaboration."

As he spoke, he explained the specifics, then said: "I might need to go to Hong Kong in a few days for business. Do you want to buy anything?"

Fan Baobao was startled: "Go to Hong Kong?"

Clearly, she hadn't expected that, with the collaboration with the People's Art Theatre already settled, Zhao Fusheng would still go to Hong Kong.

Zhao Fusheng smiled: "Yeah, to visit Zhou Xingxing and ask him to come out of retirement to make a film."

"Zhou Xingxing!"

Fan Baobao was taken aback, then her face lit up with surprise. She looked at Zhao Fusheng eagerly: "Can you get me his autograph?"

Clearly, she was another fan.

Zhao Fusheng laughed and nodded, agreeing.

After being in a relationship for so long, his feelings for Fan Baobao hadn't become routine just because time had passed and they were committed. Instead, with a deeper understanding of each other, he became even more immersed.

Of course, she was still beautiful. Their union was natural, each seeming like an extension of the other's body and a part of the other's life.

Sometimes, they would think only of each other and forget themselves.

Zhao Fusheng didn't think there was anything wrong with that. Loving someone wholeheartedly, even forgetting oneself for the other, wasn't a mistake.

It only showed that the love was deep and true.

"Mm, I know." Zhao Fusheng lovingly stroked Fan Baobao's head, a strange light flickering in his eyes: "Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

"Pfft, you wish!"

Fan Baobao gave Zhao Fusheng a charming glare: "I don't want your banana; I'm going to cultivate my mind and body!"

Zhao Fusheng blinked, suddenly feeling that he needed to reassert his authority as the husband.