Chapter 507: Wei Ming

The next day, Wei Ming took Biaozi along to visit Siyuan Film.

He brought Biaozi because yesterday, when Wu Siyuan left, he hadn’t glanced at any of the beautiful women in the room—but he had looked at Biaozi several times. Wei Ming noticed this, so he asked Biaozi to delay his return to Beijing and accompany him on this trip.

Biaozi thought this trip might be dangerous, so he naturally agreed without hesitation.

After they met, Biaozi was surprised to find Wu Siyuan extremely warm toward him, shaking his hand and saying, “I heard from friends in Guangzhou that there’s a new mainland film called ‘Wu Lin Zhi’—it’s been a massive hit, even rivaling last year’s ‘Shaolin Temple.’ Wasn’t that starring Brother Zhao? And the villain Tie Biao in ‘Heroes Born in Youth’ was unforgettable too.”

Biaozi didn’t know how big ‘Wu Lin Zhi’ had become, so he excitedly asked, “Really? Is ‘Wu Lin Zhi’ that huge? It hadn’t even been released when I came to Hong Kong.”

Wei Ming slapped him lightly. “Mr. Wu’s just being polite—you actually believe him?”

“It’s not just politeness—it’s reportedly a real phenomenon. And I heard the action choreography was designed by Brother Zhao himself. A true all-rounder!”

Zhao Debiao waved his hand. “Nah, I only helped with part of it. Many other experts contributed to the action design—I can’t take all the credit.”

Watching the two chat so cheerfully, Wei Ming guessed what Wu Siyuan was after.

At this time, Siyuan Film was in a slump. Last year, Siyuan released three films: Yuan Heping’s ‘Wu Lin Jia,’ director Luo Wen’s ‘Modern Policemen,’ and Yuan Kui’s ‘Dragon Ninja.’ Though none made the annual top ten at the box office, all turned a profit.

This year, however, they only had one film—‘Retired Detective’—grossing just six million. The reason? Last year, Wu Siyuan was attacked in Taiwan and seriously injured.

The cause? The male lead of ‘Dragon Ninja,’ Li Yuanbao.

Wu Siyuan had picked Li Yuanbao hoping to groom him as the next Cheng Long—he’d grown up in America, spoke fluent English, and had international star potential.

So in this film, Li Yuanbao’s look closely resembled Cheng Long’s early style, making him highly deceptive.

But this guy was strong in body but simple-minded. When Taiwanese producers approached him to make films, he was still under contract with Wu Siyuan, who wanted him to finish the sequel to ‘Dragon Ninja’ first.

Li Yuanbao told the Taiwanese producers: “If you want me, go sort it out with Wu Siyuan first.” That remark brought bloodshed upon Wu Siyuan—the Taiwanese didn’t mean “sort it out” as in negotiation; they meant “cut him.”

After this incident, Wu Siyuan completely abandoned Li Yuanbao. As a known figure in Hong Kong’s film industry, Wu’s reputation meant Li Yuanbao was quietly blacklisted afterward—no one dared hire him.

He didn’t return until six years later, co-starring with Chow Yun-fat in Liu Jialiang’s ‘Police Story 2,’ but by then Cheng Long had already become an international superstar. With his face so similar to Cheng Long’s, Li Yuanbao looked like a counterfeit—and lacked any distinctive traits of his own, so he never broke through.

Wu Siyuan smiled warmly at Biaozi and finally revealed his true intention: “Let me call you Ah Biao. During your time in Hong Kong, what do you think of the local film industry?”

“Hmm, it’s very advanced. I really enjoy watching the movies.”

“Would you like to act? If you get Hong Kong citizenship—or any other nationality—I’ll personally produce a film for you. I believe your potential rivals Cheng Long and Bruce Lee.”

Actually, what he really wanted was Li Lianjie—good-looking, graceful in movement—but the guy was on the national team, bound by bureaucracy; getting him for a film required approvals from countless departments, impossible for an ordinary producer.

So when he saw Zhao Debiao yesterday, he immediately considered recruiting this muscular brute. He’d planned to use Wei Ming to persuade him—but Wei Ming had brought him here directly.

“Me?” Biaozi pointed at himself, stunned.

“Yes, you. Look at your build, your presence—you’d be a general who could face ten thousand enemies in ancient times. Do you know Hollywood has an action star named Schwarzenegger? You two have a similar aura. I think he became famous, and I think you can too.”

Biaozi was flattered, floating on air. Wei Ming sat with his legs crossed, watching silently.

Just as Biaozi seemed ready to sign the contract, Wei Ming asked: “What time is it?”

“Oh, it’s…” Biaozi pulled out his antique pocket watch and saw the photos of Yanzi and his daughter.

He immediately snapped back to reality: “Mr. Wu, thank you for your kindness, but I won’t betray my homeland. I was born Chinese, and I’ll die Chinese!”

Unexpectedly, Zhao Debiao suddenly showed patriotism, leaving Wu Siyuan stunned: “Oh! I didn’t mean it like that—it’s just for convenience! You could take Hong Kong citizenship instead. Who knows, maybe it’ll reunify with the mainland someday, right, Mr. Wei?”

“Not ‘maybe,’” Wei Ming corrected. “It will reunify.”

Wu Siyuan’s heart jolted. So certain? Did he have insider information? Oh no—should he start preparing early?

He’d always avoided politics—political alignment was too uncertain. How many people in ancient and modern times lost their lives and fortunes over choosing sides?

But if the political direction was clear, that wasn’t alignment—it was simply riding the tide.

Wei Ming asked: “Biaozi, are you sure you don’t want to play the lead in Mr. Wu’s film?”

“Only if I can do it as a mainland Chinese. Otherwise, forget it.” Even if Wu agreed, Biaozi would still hesitate—he didn’t want to be separated from his wife and child for too long.

Wu Siyuan sighed regretfully. “What a shame. Those Taiwanese are damn annoying, but as businessmen, we can’t ignore them.”

Clearly, the shadow of last year’s attack by gangsters in Taiwan still lingered—he had no fondness for the place.

Wei Ming waved his hand. “No problem, I understand. Mr. Wu, you called me here to discuss this, right? Now that we’ve talked it through, we’ll take our leave.”

“No, no, Mr. Wei—I actually wanted to talk about this.” He pulled out a copy of ‘Maniac Comics.’

But it was last year’s issue—the cover featured ‘Feng Yun.’

Wei Ming was surprised: “You want to adapt ‘Feng Yun’?”

“No, no,” Wu Siyuan quickly flipped the magazine and pointed to ‘Li Wang.’ “I actually want to adapt this one. I originally planned to cast Ah Biao—but now I’ll have to find someone else.”

If the Taiwan market cooperates, it could bring him millions in revenue—he definitely couldn’t cast Zhao Debiao.

Wei Ming nodded. “That’s a minor issue. Just go negotiate directly with Minglong Media. But we don’t sell rights anymore—we only do co-investments. If you’re willing, we can talk.”

Siyuan Film wasn’t a giant company—Wu Siyuan could easily negotiate.

Though ‘Li Wang’ ended early and wasn’t among the most outstanding works in ‘Maniac Comics,’ its bloody, intense style would likely deliver strong visual impact—perhaps even carve out a unique niche.

Wu Siyuan was easygoing, but Mak Jaa ultimately rejected the plan to co-produce ‘Happy Ghost’ with DreamWorks. Wei Ming didn’t care.

To maintain the popularity of the Happy Ghost Zhu Xiucai IP, Ah Long had Zhao Rude sketch short ‘Happy Ghost’ stories whenever he had free time.

Previously published in ‘Maniac Comics,’ they could now also appear in ‘Yes!’—whose core readership was students. Zhu Xiucai was practically a local substitute for Doraemon—sure to shine someday.

Ah Long also told Wei Ming about acquiring ‘China-West Film & Picture.’

“The deal’s done. We bought 70% for two million Hong Kong dollars. The remaining 30% belongs to co-founder Lie Fu—he chose to stay. We need someone to steer the ship.”

That was fast. Based on ‘China-West Film & Picture’s’ monthly profits, the price was clearly inflated—but it saved time.

Now Minglong would soon control three magazines, two newspapers, and an animation department, and through equity swaps with Hong Kong DreamWorks, it already resembled a media giant—just missing a TV station.

Wei Ming smiled. “Can you help promote Ah Hui’s new film, ‘The Burning of the Old Summer Palace,’ in the next issue?”

The film opens next month on left-wing cinema circuits, following ‘The Children of the Century.’

Ah Long: “Naturally.”

Wei Ming also told Ah Long about the ‘Li Wang’ film adaptation. He had no objections—Wu Siyuan was a capable director and producer; he wouldn’t waste the material.

“Who else do you think could play the lead?” Ah Long asked.

Wei Ming thought for a moment. “What about your junior?”

“Ah Jiang?” Ah Long considered. “He’s tall enough, but too thin. I need to push him—stop being a homebody drawing all day. He needs to hit the gym.”

“Still stuck in his breakup depression?” Wei Ming smiled.

“He’s been much brighter since finishing ‘Home Alone,’” Ah Long chuckled.

Wei Ming stood up. “Then it’s settled. Ah Jiang’s family—we must push him first. He’s been freelancing and has never played a lead role.”

After this film, Xu Jinjiang’s acting career will diverge completely from his past life. For some reason, Wei Ming felt a pang of regret thinking about it.

Those were all classics!

Though Hong Kong films enriched mainlanders’ entertainment in the 80s and 90s, for Wei Ming, their value was low compared to Hollywood—he didn’t care much.

Take New Line’s current film ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’—a low-budget horror flick that barely registers in film history—but with an $1.8 million budget, it earned $20 million at the box office.

That’s equivalent to 170 million Hong Kong dollars—and that’s just North American theater revenue. With the rise of home video, international rights, and TV broadcast deals, the profits dwarf nearly every Hong Kong film except Cheng Long’s biggest hits.

Soon, Wei Ming would enter Hollywood and stir up storms.

After sending off his parents and Biaozi, it was finally his and Xiao Hong’s turn. They chose to go straight to San Francisco for school, returning home for National Day.

“Ah Ming, I don’t want to let you go~” A Min clung to Wei Ming. Today, her mother had returned from Taiwan—she’d be going home to sleep tonight.

Next month, they’d move with Old Ghost Lin Ni to the Kowloon Tong villa district.

Wei Hong felt a little out of place: “Uh… I’ll go buy an ice pop.”