Chapter 49: Island of Fire Suffers a Devastating Box Office Defeat

Xiangjiang, Shaw Brothers Studio conference room.

"Slap!"

Fang Fang Yihua slammed a box office report heavily onto the table; the paper slid half a meter across the solid wood surface before stopping right in front of Shao Shaw Yifu.

"One point five million!" Her voice carried rare excitement. "Island of Fire didn't even earn back the cost of the film stock!"

Shao Shaw Yifu slowly removed his reading glasses and gently wiped the lenses with a velvet cloth. This film tycoon, accustomed to weathering storms, rarely showed even a hint of a smile: "Twenty-three cinemas across all of Xiangjiang, with an average occupancy rate below twenty percent. This time, Wang Yu..."

"Serves him right!"

The conference room door was pushed open, and Cheng Long strode in, a lingering bruise still visible on his right cheek.

"Those bastards pointed guns at us every day while we filmed!" Cheng Long's voice trembled slightly with anger. "If Leung Ka-fai messed up more than three times, they would smash his back with rifle butts!"

Lin Lin Qingxia followed closely behind, clutching the latest issue of Ming Pao. She spread the newspaper out on the conference table, her fingertip pointing to the film review column: "The famous critic Sek Kei says Island of Fire is 'a cinematic disaster coerced by triads,' giving it one and a half stars."

Xiang Qian had just returned from the mainland with the others. Wang Jing took the report, his fingers sliding over the figures, then suddenly laughed aloud: "Interesting. To secure screening slots, Wang Yu sent Rolex watches to cinema managers, but they were all returned?"

"That's not all!" Cheng Long plopped down onto the conference table, his leather shoes leaving several scratches on the expensive rosewood surface. "I heard Xiang Qiang made it clear: any cinema daring to screen Island of Fire would have their film supply cut off! Even the developing labs refuse to take their jobs!"

Wan Chai Pier, torrential rain pouring down.

"Crash!"

The latest model brick phone shattered on the concrete ground, its battery pack bouncing far away. Wang Yu's face was gloomier than the cloud-choked sky; he tugged at his constricting tie, the expensive silk already soaked with rainwater and sweat.

"Damn it! This whole lot in Xiangjiang is ganging up on me!" His voice seemed squeezed out through clenched teeth.

Ah Yuan Biao, the henchman beside him, cautiously edged closer, his black suit drenched by the rain: "Boss, just got a call. The Bamboo Union's three venues in Macau were swept by the 14K... losses exceeding twenty million..."

"Shut up!" Wang Yu kicked over the LV suitcase beside him; several stacks of US dollars spilled from the cracked case, immediately soaked by the rain. He turned and roared at another henchman: "Book tickets! Back to Taipei tonight!"

Just then, a black Mercedes S600 slowly pulled up nearby. The window silently descended, revealing Xiang Yan's face, caught between a smile and a sneer. The cigar held in his hand flickered in the rain curtain, its smoke shattered and scattered by the falling water.

"Boss Wang, leaving so soon?" Xiang Yan's voice was not loud, yet exceptionally clear amidst the sound of rain.

Wang Yu's face instantly turned iron-blue; he instinctively stepped back half a pace, then immediately forced himself to stand firm: "Xiang Yan, don't get too cocky..."

The window slowly rose, and the Mercedes drove away silently, leaving Wang Yu standing alone, his fists clenched until they turned white.

Tongluowan Cinema, a surging crowd.

"Make way! Make way!" Cheng Long, wearing sunglasses, struggled to force a path through the throng. His Gucci shirt was soaked with sweat, sticking to his back.

At the VIP hall entrance, Zhou Zhou Huimin was anxiously scanning the area. Spotting Cheng Long, she immediately waved: "Brother Long! Over here!"

"Where's Qian-zi?" Cheng Long asked while wiping sweat from his brow.

Zhou Zhou Huimin pointed toward the backstage area of the IMAX hall: "He's talking to someone inside."

Lin Lin Qingxia suddenly tugged Zhou Zhou Huimin's sleeve: "Look quickly!"

On the massive IMAX screen, the seven blood-red characters "Ghost Blows Out the Light: The Ancient City of Jingjue" slowly materialized. Accompanied by deep, earth-shattering music, the entire auditorium erupted in applause and screams like a mountain tsunami. Audience members in the front rows even stood up in unison, some beginning to whistle.

Two o'clock in the morning, yet the offices at Shaw Brothers Studio remained brightly lit.

Telephone bells rang one after another:

"Kowloon Tong Cinema requests three additional screenings!"

"Midnight show tickets at Tsim Sha Tsui are sold out!"

"Fans in Mong Kok have started queuing to buy tickets for tomorrow morning!"

Cheng Long stared at the box office display with its constantly jumping figures, suddenly letting out a strange cry: "Five hundred! Five million on the first day!" He turned to hug Zhou Zhou Huimin, but Xiang Qian stepped in between them in a single swift stride.

Xiang Qian, however, frowned: "It's still too early..."

The next morning, the huge headline on the front page of Oriental Daily occupied nearly half the page:

"Ghost Blows Out the Light Breaks Records on First Day! Sets New Record for Hong Kong Films"

Shao Shaw Yifu put down the newspaper and took a slight sip of Pu'er tea: "Sixty years, and this circle remains the same." He gazed out the window at Weiduoliyagang, "Some leave, others arrive."

Xiang Qian stood behind him; sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a long shadow at his feet.