Chapter 1592: Old Jiang's Progress

Before this, Liang Jingyu had actually been unable to understand many of Zhao Fusheng's decisions.

After all, sometimes the decisions he made were no different from shooting from the hip—often making a random choice and demanding that subordinates execute it.

Just like earlier, when he had said he wouldn't interfere in Korean affairs, but then in the blink of an eye, he told him to sell all the land held by Hanxing Investment.

At first, Liang Jingyu was somewhat resistant, but after the investigation results came in, he was truly convinced.

“Any other opinions?”

Seeing Liang Jingyu's reaction, Zhao Fusheng knew he had already been persuaded.

Liang Jingyu shook his head: “Don't worry, Chairman, I'll start arranging it right away.”

He was well aware that what Zhao Fusheng said, combined with the information he had received, was most likely true barring any surprises.

“These Koreans, they really are…”

Zhao Fusheng said coldly: “Be careful when you sell; don't let them find out.”

“You mean, you're afraid someone might cause trouble?”

Liang Jingyu hesitated for a moment, then asked Zhao Fusheng.

Zhao Fusheng nodded: “Rest assured, with people like that, how could they not cause you trouble?”

A cold glint flashed in Liang Jingyu's eyes as he said solemnly: “Don't worry, I know what to do.”

Clearly, he was also quite angered. After all, anyone facing such a situation would hardly be in a good mood. If Zhao Fusheng hadn't reminded him that holding onto this land would soon turn profit into loss, how would he explain it to headquarters?

Just thinking about it made Liang Jingyu break out in a cold sweat.

“By the way, how is that Gwangju matter being handled?”

Zhao Fusheng suddenly remembered something and casually asked Liang Jingyu.

Back then, because of Zhang Tao's report, Zhao Fusheng had sent people to secretly help him, blowing up the Gwangju School for the Deaf incident, even drawing attention from the American media, which reportedly caused a huge stir in South Korea.

Later, Zhao Fusheng sent Zhang Tao off to the United States and stopped paying attention to the matter.

It wasn't that he was cold and heartless; he had done what he could. The rest, in Zhao Fusheng's view, had little to do with him.

Kindness must have its limits. You can't neglect your own life just because you like small animals—that's not overflowing compassion, that's being brainless.

“Don't even mention it.”

Liang Jingyu smiled bitterly: “How should I put it? Much ado about nothing. Although Roh Moo-hyun gave instructions and Gwangju dealt with some people, it didn't hit the core. The Korean Ministry of Justice, heh…”

He didn't finish, but Zhao Fusheng understood what he meant—just the usual bureaucratic protection, making big things small and small things disappear.

“I later donated a sum of money, all given to the victims.” Liang Jingyu sighed and said to Zhao Fusheng: “I know it was a bit impulsive, but those people were truly pitiful.”

Zhao Fusheng smiled: “It's fine, perfectly normal. Didn't the Koreans appreciate it when you had the Facebook coverage taken down earlier?”

“Yes, that's true.”

Liang Jingyu nodded: “After all, I used the company's connections to help get the Facebook reports removed, and they were quite happy about it.”

He paused and asked cautiously: “So what do you mean…”

Clearly, he thought Zhao Fusheng might be planning to use this matter as leverage.

Zhao Fusheng shook his head: “Forget it, we've done what we should. No need to worry about other things.”

He had already done what needed to be done. Now, let history continue along its original course.

To be honest, he was looking forward to seeing what kind of scene would unfold when the movie titled Silenced was released.

Liang Jingyu soon left; he had to carry out Zhao Fusheng's arrangements. Zhao Fusheng didn't chat with him much more—the plans were set, and now it was just a matter of waiting for good news.

…

…

That guy Jiang Wen had disappeared for a full two days. If he hadn't called Zhao Fusheng himself, Zhao Fusheng would have thought he had been kidnapped or gone missing.

When he finally showed up again, he really gave Zhao Fusheng a big shock, because the guy looked completely drunk, like a homeless man on the street.

"What have you been up to?"

Zhao Fusheng said to Jiang Wen, speechless.

"Just drinking."

Jiang Wen grinned: "I took down more than half of them all by myself!"

Clearly, the guy was quite proud of his achievement.

Rolling his eyes, Zhao Fusheng couldn't be bothered with him and waved at Hu Donghai: "Take him away."

The guy was already this drunk; there was no point in saying anything more to him.

Originally, Zhao Fusheng had planned to discuss the itinerary for the next few days with him, but now, seeing Jiang Wen's state, it was hopeless.

"Yes, Chairman."

Hu Donghai quickly nodded and took Jiang Wen away.

Sitting on the sofa, Zhao Fusheng boredly took out his phone and called Fan Baobao, asking about his precious daughter, and the couple exchanged a few intimate words before hanging up.

"Chairman, Director Jiang has fallen asleep."

Hu Donghai returned to report to Zhao Fusheng.

Zhao Fusheng nodded: "Tell me, is there any good food around here in Korea?"

Huh?

Hu Donghai was taken aback by Zhao Fusheng's question.

"Uh, well..."

After hesitating for a long time, Hu Donghai finally shook his head: "I really don't know."

That was the truth; he was a bodyguard, not a tour guide. Asking him to know such things was really putting him on the spot.

Seeing Hu Donghai's expression, Zhao Fusheng chuckled and waved his hand: "My fault, my fault. You shouldn't have to answer that."

Hu Donghai grinned but said nothing more.

Zhao Fusheng didn't say anything else either, waving for him to leave first.

…

…

The next day, Old Jiang finally sobered up, rubbing his head as he came to see Zhao Fusheng.

"Did I drink a lot yesterday?"

Jiang Wen asked Zhao Fusheng.

Zhao Fusheng nodded helplessly: "Not just a lot, you drank way too much."

"Cough, this Korean soju—it's fine in small amounts, but the more you drink, the worse you feel." Jiang Wen promptly shifted the blame to Korean soju.

Zhao Fusheng couldn't be bothered to praise him and said helplessly: "How did your talks with those Koreans go these past few days?"

Those whom Jiang Wen would lower himself to actively befriend were certainly the most outstanding actors and directors in the Korean film industry; otherwise, it wouldn't befit Old Jiang's status.

Hearing Zhao Fusheng's words, Jiang Wen grinned, looking quite pleased with himself.

Watching the guy sitting there smugly, with an expression that screamed "Ask me, ask me," Zhao Fusheng chuckled inwardly and deliberately didn't say a word, sitting down on the sofa and sipping his coffee.

"It's pretty much settled."

Seeing that Zhao Fusheng didn't seem inclined to ask, Jiang Wen finally couldn't hold back and honestly gave him the result.

Zhao Fusheng wasn't surprised. If Jiang Wen couldn't handle this kind of thing, then his big reputation would be for nothing.

Besides, for those Koreans, they didn't have to give much—just a recommendation. Whether it succeeded still depended on Jiang Wen's own negotiations.

Of course, since Old Jiang had completed the task, Zhao Fusheng couldn't discourage him. So he cooperatively showed an appreciative expression and said to Jiang Wen: "Not bad. Next step is to see how things go at the film festival."

Jiang Wen nodded: "I've already contacted Huayi."

There were naturally no such taboos between the two of them. For ordinary people, this might have been a source of discord, since Zhao Fusheng hadn't invested a single cent in that film.