Chapter 342: The Power of Faith

These days, Meng Jun had just returned from the United States, and all one hundred million dollars had been used to buy Nvidia stock.

After that, you don't need to manage it—just wait for it to rise.

As soon as Meng Jun returned, he was ecstatic: "General Manager Fang, Tesla's market cap broke ten billion dollars, skyrocketing just in May—holy shit, you've got real vision."

The excitement felt like he himself had made the money.

That's roughly a fivefold increase—they bought it when it was two to three billion dollars last year, and held it for over a year.

"Keep it low-key, keep it low-key—I've always taught you that one must be humble. This is nothing, utterly insignificant." Fang Hong appeared utterly calm, showing no trace of joy from the sudden wealth surge.

In truth, he was quite excited—he was short on cash.

Recently, Tesla had cleared its debts, successfully delivered vehicles, and the Model S was named Car of the Year 2013—all positive factors causing Tesla's stock to surge.

Clearing debts meant shedding burdens; delivering vehicles meant profit from listing was just around the corner.

But Fang Hong knew Tesla still had a long road ahead—2014 would be its peak, with a market cap of over thirty billion dollars.

After that, it stagnated for two or three years; 2015 and 2016 were the trough, and only in 2017 did it relaunch, breaking forty billion dollars in market cap before climbing steadily.

Fang Hong certainly wouldn't wait until 2017—by then, the cabbage would be cold. He planned to sell all his Tesla shares at next year's peak and cash out to fund Chang'e Technology.

By then, Chang'e Technology would have passed its most difficult startup phase and urgently needed massive capital to grow—this fund would perfectly fill the gap.

Everything was within his plan, but the beginning was hard—extremely hard!

"Sorry, I got too emotional—I'm just happy for you." Meng Jun, seeing how calm General Manager Fang was, was deeply impressed.

If it were anyone else, they'd have jumped out of their skin.

This surge netted at least three hundred million dollars—enormous wealth, equivalent to the value of a Yutu Film and Television Production Base, and earned through finance.

Stock value doesn't mean you earn multiples just because the market cap multiplies—it doesn't work that way.

The author can't calculate either—he can only estimate by percentage!

Speaking of this, Fang Hong suddenly realized a problem: "Hey, ask you something—can foreign stocks be used as collateral for loans in China?"

"No, Chinese banks don't recognize foreign stocks—they can't serve as loan collateral." Meng Jun shook his head.

This disappointed Fang Hong greatly—no matter how much foreign stocks earned, if they couldn't serve as collateral, it was a nightmare.

Talking about leveraging through collateral? He couldn't even borrow an equal amount—what leverage could he possibly get?

You say A-shares work? That stuff cures defiance!

"General Manager Fang, are you short on cash?" Meng Jun asked, studying his expression.

"I'm desperately short—I need five billion. I called you to help me see what I can pledge—copyrights, equity, anything—to see if I can raise five billion." Fang Hong said.

"Five billion?!" Meng Jun was startled and asked: "Wait, General Manager Fang, why suddenly need so much money?"

"You don't need to know—just help me raise it." Fang Hong refused to explain.

That was Chang'e's business—it had nothing to do with Yutu.

Of course, if Fang Hong pledged or took a loan, it was entirely his own affair.

"Can't be done. Even with Yutu's value, you can't raise it—Yutu has no substantial assets. The office is rented, the film base is under construction, no one knows if you'll abandon the project. Copyrights are just data—this value declines yearly and holds no worth."

Meng Jun added: "Yutu's only valuable assets are equipment, the film base land, and copyrights. Everything else is worthless in the bank's eyes—they might lend you a couple billion at most."

He was professionally trained in accounting—he understood these things well.

Hearing this, Fang Hong felt a crushing sense of defeat. After all his efforts, in the bank's eyes, he probably wasn't even worth as much as Liu Tianxian.

Liu Tianxian at least had houses, villas, estates, and herself—she had influence, and these things were valuable in the bank's eyes.

People themselves are tangible assets!

But Fang Hong had built everything from data—and people like him weren't worth much at all!

Damn it, I should've bought some real estate—what's so great about steel and concrete anyway?

Confusing??

As for those upcoming films—no need to mention them—in the bank's eyes, before airing, they're just data and worthless.

"Alright, help me sort this out first!" Fang Hong could only settle for this.

If not, he'd have to get money from abroad—foreign copyrights and stocks were still valuable; raising money domestically was too hard, with no connections or anything.

June arrived. "The Bound Love" was still in production.

"The Partners" grossed 754 million yuan. After taxes, theater splits, and distribution fees, net income was 216 million yuan.

Subtracting the 40 million yuan investment, profit was 176 million yuan. Around 10%—17.6 million yuan—was distributed to writers, directors, producers, and crew.

Each team or individual received three to five million yuan—enough to buy a 100-square-meter apartment in Beijing at an average price of 50,000 yuan per square meter.

This was an extra share given after the producer received payment—a form of incentive.

It was also the first time the production team received such a large payout from a film, equivalent to the Principal rewarding them.

Without exaggeration, this income exceeded Liu Tianxian's acting fee—work hard enough, and wealth freedom was within reach.

Of course, in terms of commercial value or business deals, it couldn't compare.

These box office profits hadn't yet returned—they'd take months, even half a year. The copyright fees were paid first, distributing shares to crew members so they could get money early, pay for homes, or support families.

The company could wait, but they couldn't—this was a time of skyrocketing housing prices; buy early, profit early.

The film's copyright wasn't sold only to Chang'e—Movie Channel, TV networks, and streaming platforms all bought it.

The film had already been exposed—it couldn't generate much traffic.

Liu Yin stared at his phone and saw a sudden large sum in his account—he jumped up, hugging Li Anran tightly, bouncing and laughing. Li Anran was equally thrilled, kissing and hugging him back.

Those who didn't know might think they were dating—but everyone else saw only envy, knowing the Principal's share system had been distributed.

The film's profits were paid out within a month of release—the Principal truly cared for them.

Liu Yin asked: "How much did you get?"

Li Anran smiled and held up one finger—over a million yuan. Combined with his 600,000 yuan production fee, his total income from this film was around two million yuan.

"Holy shit, awesome." Liu Yin was thrilled—he'd received the same amount.

"I've now developed a kind of faith in the Principal." Li Anran's sense of belonging to the Jade Rabbit was now off the charts.

The Principal had suddenly given them such a huge benefit, sharing the money with them—how could they not be grateful? Other companies wouldn't do something like this.

Filming one movie for them was equivalent to earning two or three times the income of their peers.

"Floor 18, faith."

Having said that, Li Anran grabbed Liu Yin and headed for the stairwell.

The two didn't even take the elevator, running straight up the stairwell to the eighteenth floor to pay homage to the Jade Rabbit statue. They hadn't expected that, just as they arrived, they would see several people already there wiping the "Chang'e Holding Rabbit" statue.

They looked quite careful and cautious, afraid of damaging it, all because it was a symbol of the Jade Rabbit.

They recognized these people—one was the editor Tu Yiran, along with other screenwriters from the Literature Society. The Producer and Director hadn't come; they were putting on airs.

"Holy crap, you guys got here that fast?" Li Anran and Liu Yin walked over.

"Naturally." Tu Yiran wore a smile, tilted his head, and said: "Got paid?"

"If there were no money, would I come here?" Liu Yin said it as a matter of course.

"Nice, nice, hahaha!"

The few people here all laughed, looking very happy.

Anyone who could come here was at least a millionaire, having achieved a leap in class with just one successful movie.

How could they not be happy? How could they not be grateful?

At this moment, Fang Hong happened to come over by elevator. Seeing the few of them chatting and laughing around the Jade Rabbit statue, he couldn't help but ask: "What are you guys doing here?"

"Oh, isn't the statue dirty? We're wiping it down, polishing it up, making it shiny." Li Anran looked rather pleased with himself.

"Wipe it if you want, but why are you putting your hand on its chest? Take it away right now." Fang Hong pointed at his hand, looking somewhat offended.

"Oh!" Li Anran looked slightly embarrassed.

"No, why did you guys suddenly come up here together to wipe the statue? Are you plotting something against it?" Fang Hong was puzzled.

"No, no."

The few of them waved their hands repeatedly. Liu Yin explained: "Didn't we get extra money? Our sense of belonging suddenly went through the roof, and we didn't know how to express it, so we figured this statue is a symbol of the Jade Rabbit—wipe it clean, faith."

"Right, faith!" someone chimed in.

"Faith is faith, but don't crowd around it. People who don't know might think you're plotting something against it." Fang Hong said.

Hearing this, those few people couldn't help but step back!

"I can understand how you feel. You can express it in other ways—like burning incense and paying respects. If there's no incense burner, just use a pot."

Having said that, Fang Hong pulled the plant out of a potted plant in the corner, placed the pot in front of the statue: "See, this works perfectly. There's soil inside, you can stick the incense right in. As for incense—"

As he said this, he called out toward the office: "Ouyang Xue, do we have any incense here?"

"Yes, General Manager Fang." Ouyang Xue responded.

"Bring it over, and bring a lighter too while you're at it." Fang Hong called out.

This left those few people a bit dumbfounded, a bit embarrassed, a bit at a loss. They had just come up to express their feelings; they hadn't expected things to get this formal with incense and all.

They hadn't expected the Principal to pull this stunt on them either.

Ouyang Xue brought over a bundle of incense: "This is the kind used for worshipping the God of Wealth."

"Doesn't matter, whoever uses it, it's all the same."

Fang Hong gave each of those few people three sticks of incense: "Burn plenty of incense, contribute some faith power to the Jade Rabbit, pray that the Jade Rabbit gets rich, and that the Jade Rabbit blesses you to get rich."

The few of them were silent, feeling a bit embarrassed. Had they known, they wouldn't have come. But the Principal was quite serious about it.

Actually, Fang Hong had been worried lately, worried sick with no idea what to do, so he was feeling rather depressed. These idle people who had made money just happened to run right into the line of fire.

You say, making money is making money, but coming here to show off in front of him—he was just worrying about where to release some of his frustrations.

The incense was lit. Fang Hong said: "Alright, go ahead!"

Li Anran, Liu Yin, and the others had no choice but to raise the incense, bow three times to the "Chang'e Holding Rabbit" statue, and then stick the incense into the potted plant.

This spectacle left Ouyang Xue and the other secretaries on the 18th floor utterly dumbfounded too; they all came over to watch the show.

"In the future, whenever you have nothing to do, you can all come burn some incense. The faith power can't be cut off." Fang Hong was just bored.

(End of this chapter)