Chapter 299: This Relationship Must Be Maintained Well

In mid-to-late October, Luo Runbo arrived in Jingcheng with a team of lawyers, and Pei Wencong then notified several units to come for final negotiations, with agreements to be signed immediately upon settlement.

Director Xiong, along with Factory Director Gao and local representatives from Chang'an, arrived at the Beijing Hotel as invited and saw the teams from the other two parties upon entering.

"Ah~"

Director Xiong sighed, feeling deeply dejected.

After several days of mutual competition, the situation had become clear.

Jingcheng and Hushi not only had deep pockets but also offered superior conditions in land and funding; more importantly, their transportation and film industry infrastructure far surpassed Chang'an's.

The Beijing Film Academy and the Shanghai Drama Academy were top-tier film and television institutions on the mainland, while Beijing Airport and Hushi Airport were the largest aviation hubs in the country.

What advantages did Chang'an have by comparison?

It seemed only the name "Chang'an" itself matched more closely with "Wangxiang Gujun" and "Shuofeng Feiyang."

"Pull yourselves together—even if we lose this bid, we'll still be needed for cooperation; don't let them look down on us."

Indeed, even if Jingcheng and Hushi took the lion's share, filming would still require locations in Chang'an, and neither Jingcheng nor Hushi had deserts—most outdoor scenes would need to be shot in the west.

Just a few hundred kilometers north of Chang'an lay the Mu Us Desert, an excellent filming location; no matter what, Chang'an deserved at least a taste of the pie.

After the big shots in Chang'an gave their orders, Director Xiong and the others straightened their backs, faces blank, eyes cold, like statues of Terracotta Warriors, each radiating a fierce, unyielding aura.

Inside the conference room, Director Xiong discovered that besides the three film studios and local representatives, there was also a foreign enterprise from Lijiapo.

Wu Jinyuan's expression was no different from Director Xiong's—icy, without a smile, as if she'd lost eight million.

Pei Wencong and Luo Runbo arrived on time, exchanged polite pleasantries, then Pei Wencong had Luo Runbo reveal something.

"Thank you all for your attention these past days. Today, we first show our sincerity: this is a banker's draft for three million U. . dollars from Standard Chartered Bank—the first investment we anticipate after our cooperation."

Director Xiong stared at the piece of paper in Luo Runbo's hand and couldn't help swallowing hard.

He wasn't bank staff, but he knew what a "banker's draft" was—because in 1970s and 80s Hong Kong and Taiwan crime films, these things appeared far too often.

Though merely a credit instrument, a banker's draft could be cashed at any bank without conditions, indistinguishable from cash.

Wu Jinyuan's face grew even colder.

Recently, she too had been negotiating with the mainland to film movies—since "Wangxiang Gujun" might not work, she could make kung fu or urban films—but she had used the broadcasting rights for Lijiapo TV dramas as her investment capital for co-production.

In essence, she imported a few TV dramas and exported films and TV shows, ultimately airing them in Southeast Asia to profit from both ends while consuming almost no company working capital.

To Wu Jinyuan, Pei Wencong's direct cash injection was crude, no different from an amateur's move.

But to everyone else in the room, this act screamed "sincerity."

Sign the contract today, get the money tomorrow—how genuine could they be?

Someone in the audience chuckled and asked: "Mr. Pei, have you already decided where to invest this money?"

Pei Wencong smiled: "Yes. We've decided to build the film city in Chang'an, and we hope to hire Xie Jin as director for 'Wangxiang Gujun,' and also plan to adapt 'Shuofeng Feiyang' into a TV series."

"Hum~"

Director Xiong's mind buzzed—he wondered if he'd misheard.

But seeing the stunned joy on everyone else's faces, he realized a golden nugget had truly fallen from the sky—and landed right on their heads.

Everyone in the room was stunned by this outcome, and someone couldn't help asking: "Mr. Li, are you certain about building the film city in Chang'an? I feel Jingcheng or Hushi offer better conditions."

Pei Wencong smiled: "I originally thought so too—until I visited the Terracotta Warriors. They were truly awe-inspiring."

"I believe that once our films are screened overseas, people will seek out the legendary Chang'an—so building our film city here makes perfect sense."

"Also, after evaluating other factors—outdoor locations, labor costs, warhorses, props—we found Chang'an has its own advantages."

"Of course, since this cooperation involves two works, if you're willing, you may collaborate—but the baseline pricing will follow Chang'an Film Studio's rates."

Factory Director Gao from Chang'an immediately stood up and declared loudly: "No need for collaboration—we can handle filming ourselves."

""

Everyone except Chang'an's team glared at Factory Director Gao.

But Gao wasn't fazed—he stared right back, eyes wide.

Pei Wencong quickly said: "Let's take a break. Let's continue later—let's complete this cooperation amicably, peacefully, and smoothly. And quickly—time is money!"

During his days on the mainland, Pei Wencong had learned some local customs—he sensed the next few parties were about to erupt into arguments, and as an outsider, he'd better step aside.

Sure enough, the moment Pei Wencong and his team left, the room erupted into chaos.

"Old Gao, what were you thinking just now? Fighting among yourselves in front of foreign guests? Trying to hoard everything—you afraid you'll choke?"

"Hmph. Who was trying to hoard everything a few days ago? Forgot?"

Factory Director Gao wasn't stupid—he knew he couldn't monopolize everything, but he had to make his stance clear first, leveraging the foreign investor's momentum to grab as much as possible, or the other two sides would think cooperation was mandatory.

Right now, Chang'an Film Studio would clearly get the biggest share—but since the director was from Hushi Film Studio, casting would naturally require collaboration.

This wasn't unusual on the mainland—for example, Pan Hong's "Du Shiniang" was actually produced by Jilin Film Studio.

After heated debate, by afternoon the three parties had roughly outlined their agreement; the rest of the details were left for internal discussions behind closed doors.

But no matter how they negotiated, Chang'an Film Studio was the undisputed big winner.

After signing the letter of intent, a friendly banquet followed.

Director Xiong's rank was low; he waited a long time before getting a chance to toast Pei Wencong.

"Thank you, Mr. Pei."

"No need to thank me. By the way, Director Xiong—I heard your replica Mingguang armor is excellent. I spoke with a friend recently; if exported as art, there's real market demand—I'd even buy one to place in my home as a protective charm."

"Oh, oh—of course we have ordinary replicas, but—"

"Of course ordinary ones—the museum's collection can't be exported; I understand that. I mean normal commercial exports—hundreds or even thousands of sets."

"Mr. Pei, rest assured—I'll report it immediately, right away."

Suddenly, a shadow flashed through Director Xiong's mind—he realized this might not be a golden nugget falling from the sky after all.

Finding a moment alone, Director Xiong approached Factory Director Gao and whispered: "Factory Director, we may have underestimated someone—if not—"

Factory Director Gao narrowed his eyes and whispered back: "Since they didn't say it outright, we won't disturb them openly—but this relationship must be maintained well."

"I know—but how do we maintain it?"

"What does he like?"

"He likes cultural relics—yes, ancient antiques."

"Pfft—we Chang'an folks don't have much else, but we've got antiques. I'll find you someone—get in touch with him. Tell finance I approved it."