Chapter 1238 Get Out!

Wang Jing wanted to curse, but Zhao Fusheng didn't care about his reaction at all. Glancing indifferently at the Hong Konger who had asked about his identity, Zhao Fusheng said, "Who are you?"

As he spoke, he looked at Wang Jing: "Director Wang, I'm not familiar with people from Hong Kong. Could you introduce me?"

Wang Jing forced a bitter smile but dared not disobey Zhao Fusheng. Among those present, only he knew what kind of person this young man with a faint smile really was.

"He's from Emperor Entertainment, Xie Tingfeng's agent."

Wang Jing honestly introduced him to Zhao Fusheng: "Mr. Zhao, please listen to me, this is really a misunderstanding."

A man's reputation is like the shadow of a tree.

This saying held true. Not to mention anything else, just based on Zhao Fusheng's identity as chairman of Future Group, Wang Jing knew that neither he nor Zhang Weijian and Xie Tingfeng could afford to offend him.

Even if Xie Tingfeng's mother, Deborah Lee, had once danced with the casino king, it didn't matter. This newly risen tycoon, still on the rise, would never sell face to the casino king.

"Mm, I see." Zhao Fusheng glanced at the agent, who now realized something was wrong, and said calmly, "Do me a favor: have Zhang Weijian and Xie Tingfeng come see me. Otherwise, I'll have my men search every room."

As he spoke, Zhang Qian, standing behind him, waved his hand, and a group of men in black suits appeared at the door.

"No, no, no!" Wang Jing certainly couldn't let Zhao Fusheng's men take action. He quickly pulled the agent aside and whispered a few words. When the agent looked up again, his expression was full of shock. Though very reluctant, he took the other two and hurried out through the back door.

Zhao Fusheng nodded, unhurriedly walked to a chair, and sat down.

In Journey to the West, the story of using a gourd to call someone's name and suck them in also reflects Chinese cultural characteristics, especially name culture. Such a story is unlikely to happen in a country like Spain. For example, Picasso's full name is: Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno Crispín Crispiniano de la Santísima Trinidad María Paríso Clito Ruiz Blasco Picasso.

Imagine the Silver Horn King holding the gourd and saying, 'I call your name, dare you answer?' Picasso: 'Go ahead.' So Silver Horn: 'Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan... forget it, you can go.'

But regardless, a man's reputation is like the shadow of a tree. Zhao Fusheng knew that with Wang Jing's intelligence, he would know how to make the right choice.

"Fusheng..." Ye Jing quietly walked up to Zhao Fusheng and whispered a question.

He was worried that Zhao Fusheng, too angry, might do something extreme.

Zhao Fusheng chuckled softly and shook his head: "Don't worry, I won't do anything."

He meant it. After all, given his status, he wouldn't stoop to arguing or fighting like a thug.

Soon, Xie Tingfeng and Zhang Weijian, accompanied by their assistants and agents, arrived at the meeting room.

The agent had obviously told them about Zhao Fusheng's identity beforehand, so although they entered with a defiant air, they said nothing.

"Mr. Zhao, this is Tingfeng, and this is Ajian." Wang Jing introduced them with a smile.

Zhao Fusheng nodded, sizing up the two stars he had seen on screen many times in his past life, and said flatly, "So these are the idiots who hurt my sister? Director Wang, what's going on in your Hong Kong entertainment circle? Such wet-behind-the-ears fools can be stars? They're not even as good as our company's security guards."

Everyone was stunned. They had expected Zhao Fusheng to speak harshly, but no one thought he would show no face at all to Xie Tingfeng and Zhang Weijian.

The two on the other side reacted differently to this very unfriendly remark. Xie Tingfeng's facial muscles twitched slightly, clearly furious. Zhang Weijian was also angry but visibly restraining himself.

Young Xie was still young and not so deep; Zhang Weijian, on the other hand, seemed to have some depth.

Zhao Fusheng smiled faintly, recalling a post he had once read, roughly about a mainland actor who had worked with Zhang Weijian and his recollections of him.

In short, two words: smart.

Calling him smart was because he knew exactly what he was. He would be respectful to those stronger than him and dismissive of those weaker.

Simply put, this kind of person could change his face at any moment, as if his ancestors had mastered Sichuan opera face-changing.

Actually, this was normal. He was an old hand in the circle, knowing who to provoke and who not to.

For example, the mainland actor Wang Bochao, in Zhang Weijian's eyes, was someone he could beat up for nothing. Wang was not famous, at most a supporting actor, and a mainland actor at that. As Zhang Weijian said to Xie Tingfeng, beating ten such losers was no big deal.

But Yu Feihong was different. She was a very famous actress on the mainland, and more importantly, she could alarm a tycoon like the chairman of Future Group to personally come and demand justice. Zhang Weijian knew she was not someone he could afford to offend.

So now, Zhang Weijian knew he had better behave.

Xie Tingfeng was different. He had been smooth sailing since childhood. His father, Xie the Cuckold, was a famous actor in Hong Kong, and his mother, Deborah Lee, was a well-known beauty in the circle, with countless lovers, naturally finding him many godfathers. With their care, Xie Tingfeng was rebellious and arrogant, and having achieved fame young, he was used to looking down his nose at people.

Today, even though he knew the man before him was someone he couldn't provoke, Xie Tingfeng still thought Zhao Fusheng wouldn't dare do anything to him. So he stiffened his neck, adopting a 'what can you do to me' attitude.

As for Zhao Fusheng's words just now, Xie Tingfeng swore that if there weren't so many people today, in a one-on-one fight, he would beat this guy into a pig's head.

The meeting room's atmosphere froze. Centered on the three, an area spread out, with dozens of people inside silent. The Hong Kong side watched coldly, purely for the spectacle; the mainland side secretly cheered, instantly refreshing their impression of Chairman Zhao.

In the entertainment circle, most people minded their own business.

At that moment, a middle-aged man in a suit, his eyes darting, squeezed out a smile and stepped forward: "Chairman Zhao, we are also very saddened by Miss Yu's injury. But this matter, neither Tingfeng nor Ajian meant it. When the conflict occurred, the scene was too chaotic."

Hearing this, a cold glint flashed in Zhao Fusheng's eyes, and his face immediately darkened: "Who are you?"

"Uh?" The man was taken aback by Zhao Fusheng's words, then gritted his teeth and said, "I am the production manager of this drama. Chairman Zhao, this matter..."

"Get out!"

Zhao Fusheng was blunt, waving his hand and uttering a single word.

"What?"

Everyone was stunned as they heard Zhao Fusheng say to Ye Jing: "Ask Sister Feihong who she signed the contract with, or if she came as a favor, and whose face it was for. Also, find out which company invested in this damn TV series. Spread the word: anyone who acts in their productions from now on is not giving me face, helping Hong Kongers bully mainlanders. Don't expect to get any endorsements from us."

"Damn! What do you mean by that?"

Hearing Zhao Fusheng's clearly sweeping remark, Xie Tingfeng could no longer hold back, glaring at Zhao Fusheng and shouting.

Little did he know, Zhao Fusheng was waiting for that!

"What, you don't like me?" Zhao Fusheng coldly glanced at Xie Tingfeng, stood up, and looked at him: "I don't care about your issues with Wang Bochao. My sister is injured. You and Zhang Weijian go apologize to her now. Otherwise, believe me, as long as I'm alive, you won't be able to develop on the mainland."

Then, Zhao Fusheng reached out and patted Xie Tingfeng's shoulder: "I'm twenty-five this year, with assets over two billion RMB. So you can try to find someone who will oppose me for your sake."

Turning his head, he glanced at the pale-faced Zhang Weijian: "I don't care why you fought with Wang Bochao, or what conflict led to this. You should be glad that I'm not the investor of this drama. Otherwise, with your condescending attitude, I would have you all roll back to Hong Kong and eat your own! Damn it, without the mainland feeding you, what do you have to be arrogant about? When I worked with Stephen Chow on 'Kung Fu Hustle,' he didn't dare shout at me. Who do you think you are?"

The entire meeting room fell silent.

If the one cursing were Wang Bochao or some actor in the entertainment circle, these Hong Kong staff might have stepped up to argue, even have a fierce fight.

But the problem was, this guy cursing was not an insider.

Moreover, if what he said was true—that Stephen Chow, known in Hong Kong's entertainment circle for his eccentric temper, dared not act rashly in front of him—then these ordinary staff members dared even less.

Often, their condescending attitude came from mainland investors who held them high, afraid of offending them.

But now, it was clear that this wealthy and powerful boss truly didn't care about them. If they angered him, what if they got blacklisted?

In the face of absolute power, any scheme is useless.