Chapter 1589: The Current State of the Korean Entertainment Industry

For Zhao Fusheng, the purpose of his trip to Korea was to relax, not to inspect Hanxing Investment, so he acted quite indifferently.

If he really wanted to inspect the company, he would have mobilized personnel from Future Group and Future Investment back home for a large-scale进驻.

Or he would have sent people to secretly investigate first, then make a move.

Of course, for now, Hanxing Investment didn't warrant such measures.

"Chairman, where to next?"

Hu Donghai said to Zhao Fusheng.

They had three cars in total; Zhao Fusheng was in the second car, with the front and rear cars carrying other assistants and bodyguards.

"Let's head back first."

Zhao Fusheng said casually. Jiang Wen had gone to visit Song Kang-ho in Chungmuro today, so he himself had nothing to do.

"Okay."

Hu Donghai nodded, turned on the navigation, and drove toward the residence.

Whenever he wasn't in China, Hu Donghai personally drove for Zhao Fusheng. The reason was simple: he wouldn't feel at ease handing the wheel to someone else.

The car moved slowly, as Hu Donghai, though an experienced driver, wasn't familiar with the terrain in Seoul, so he took it easy.

Zhao Fusheng wasn't in a hurry; he wasn't that kind of person.

"Huh?"

Suddenly, Zhao Fusheng looked in surprise at a group of people walking ahead, with a camera not far behind them.

"What's wrong, Chairman?"

Though driving, Hu Donghai kept his eyes and ears open. Hearing Zhao Fusheng's voice, he was slightly puzzled.

Zhao Fusheng smiled and shook his head. "Nothing, just saw a celebrity."

Though his impression wasn't strong, the person seemed quite famous. At least in his past life, he had seen them in videos on his computer.

"A celebrity?"

Hu Donghai was somewhat surprised. In his mind, celebrities, while not necessarily reclusive, shouldn't be seen everywhere.

In a good mood, Zhao Fusheng explained to Hu Donghai: "Korea is different from our country. There are too many people in the entertainment industry here. With a total population of only fifty million, it creates a situation where there are too many entertainers..."

In fact, the matter ran deep, starting with policy support. Back in the 1970s and 1980s, Hong Kong dramas spread to Korea, greatly influencing that generation.

Koreans then realized the immense influence of the entertainment industry, so the government began investing in and supporting its development. Entertainment companies rose, churning out batches of artists and groups like an assembly line. Later, it became tied to tourism and political demands. The Korean entertainment industry had matured and was closely linked with all sectors of society, including business and politics.

Moreover, Korea is a developed country. The greater Seoul and Busan metropolitan areas house 70% of Korea's population—35 million people. The Seoul metropolitan area alone has 25 million people, more than the capital city.

Given such a small area with a super-large city comparable to a capital, one can imagine how high Korea's urbanization rate is.

High urbanization benefits the entertainment industry immensely. Advanced media and increased consumption power provide fertile ground for the industry. Combined with Korea's small territory, this effect is doubled.

People from large countries might not understand this. Even in China, top local TV stations broadcast nationwide, with the best programs going satellite. This supports many widely viewed satellite channels.

But Korea has only so many people. Even with 100% urbanization, the number of TV stations it can sustain is limited. Thus, the three major Korean TV stations wield unparalleled influence domestically. Small territory plus super-large cities amplify media capabilities exponentially.

In this context, artists become well-known through TV, naturally attracting more people to the industry.

"So you're saying that artists here are like office workers back home?" Hu Donghai, a rough man, expressed his thoughts in terms he understood.

"Something like that."

Zhao Fusheng laughed. "Overall, many artists here earn less than white-collar workers in our country."

This was true. Korean artists' incomes weren't high, which is why so many later sought to develop in mainland China.

The reason was simple: more money!

For example, hiring Korea's most famous host, Yoo Jae-suk, for a wedding cost 60 million won—less than 300,000 RMB.

Compared to the appearance fees of domestic stars, that was a bargain.

More importantly, Korean stars had little status domestically, except for film actors. Most were not highly regarded, unlike abroad where they received enthusiastic追捧.

"That bad?"

Hu Donghai was quite surprised. In his view, being a star was glamorous. Domestic stars were always surrounded by crowds, but according to Zhao Fusheng, being a star in Korea didn't seem comfortable.

Zhao Fusheng nodded. "Not just bad—the Korean entertainment industry is a cesspool."

"Cesspool?"

Hu Donghai didn't understand.

Zhao Fusheng shook his head and said no more.

There were things he didn't need to explain to Hu Donghai, even if he knew they would come to light in the future.

The Korean entertainment industry was truly bizarre compared to China's or the world's.

First, Korea had unique anti-fan organizations. This was a peculiar phenomenon. Though many Korean stars were popular, most Koreans didn't regard them highly. Some even resented stars for earning so much so easily.

These people's antics included malicious online attacks, spreading rumors, and photoshopping damaging images to harm reputations.

Of course, that was the lowest level. Some pretended to be fans of artists, slandering other artists and fans to cause conflicts between fan bases. This required skill, as one had to be familiar with both sides.

Moreover, they were adept at cyber-attacks on stars. For instance, they would attack a star's forum, causing it to crash; send viruses to a female star's phone, forcing her to replace it; or use forums and mass email software to spread negative news and curse at stars on various sites.

Not only that, but they even dared to physically attack artists.

In the 1990s, female idol Kang Mi-yeon, due to rumors with male idol Moon Hee-joon, received blood-stained razor blades, causing panic. Someone also hid a blade in their hand, pretended to be a fan, and shook her hand, cutting her until she bled, then escaped.

Then there was Yoon Eun-hye, the lead actress of the hit drama "Princess Hours." She was originally a member of a girl group. People claiming to be fans would walk up and curse her, making her habitually walk with her head down. A fake fan once sprayed ink from a syringe into her eyes, so she only dared to wear sunglasses for a long time. Now, whenever someone claims to be her fan, her first reaction is fear.

Incidents like giving artists spiked drinks were common in Korea.

Artists themselves were tightly controlled by their agencies. Even top actresses like Jun Ji-hyun had their phones wiretapped by their agencies.

Not to mention various scandals. Male or female, Korean entertainment stars were essentially synonymous with playthings.

In this regard, China was much better.

Speaking of this, Zhao Fusheng suddenly thought that if he had time, he could go with Jiang Wen to the Busan International Film Festival or the Baeksang Arts Awards. He might encounter interesting things.

After all, in a sense, he should do something enjoyable now.

For now, Zhao Fusheng didn't plan to pay attention to domestic affairs.

With the Olympics approaching and no good projects, his focus had shifted to the international market.

Soon, Hu Donghai parked the car at the residence.

"Hmm, should I buy a few more houses?"

Getting out of the car, Zhao Fusheng looked around and muttered to himself.

To be honest, apart from the entertainment and gaming industries being highly developed, Zhao Fusheng didn't think any other industry in Korea had investment value.

But real estate was never a bad thing.

Strangely, although Korea's economy had been worsening in recent years, housing prices kept rising, which was somewhat surprising.

In Zhao Fusheng's view, if he bought several buildings in Seoul, just collecting rent would bring in a substantial annual income.

On second thought, it was quite feasible.