1978: Female educated youth, don’t want an illiterate husband

Tsui Hark and Nansun Shi walked back to their office side by side.

As soon as she entered, Shi Nansheng immediately locked the door with a click, her movements swift and decisive.

She turned around, leaning against the door, her sharp eyes fixed on her husband: "Old man, what do you think now? How much of what Maka said just now do you believe?"

Tsui Hark walked to the window, looked at the pedestrians hurrying through the rain on the street below, and said with a furrowed brow:

“Nansheng, these are critical times, and Cheng Xuemin clearly has ill intentions. Brother Jia… although he has done some things wrong… we’re brothers, he shouldn’t be as despicable as the newspapers say.”

Since he promised a generous reward later, all we can do for now is to work together to overcome this difficult time.

"Brother? A generous reward?" Shi Nansheng sneered, walked to his desk, and picked up a copy of the company's basic financial statements.

Although key data has been obscured, the general cost-benefit structure can still be discerned.

He said, "Take a good look! How many nights did we stay up, how much hair did we lose for that movie last year? It grossed over six million, and the company made at least three million in net profit! How much did we actually get?"

Besides the fixed director's fee and production fee, that red envelope—20,000 yuan! 20,000 yuan! What can that buy? It's not even enough to buy the lens you have!"

She became increasingly agitated as she spoke, but her voice remained low, carrying a suppressed anger:
"What about Karl Maka, Dean Shek, and Raymond Wong? They're the shareholders! They're the ones who get the lion's share! Cheng Xuemin wasn't wrong, we're just high-level employees! Karl Maka just dangled a pie in the sky for us, calling it brotherhood!"

Tsui Hark rubbed his temples in frustration: "I know I feel wronged! But who benefits from tearing things apart now? If 'Desperate Dog Jumps Over the Wall' fails, we'll get nothing!"

“Yes, the film can’t fail! But you should also wake up!” Shi Nansheng walked up to Tsui Hark, looked him straight in the eye, and said:
“Did Maka ever mention shares once from beginning to end? No! He just used red envelopes as an excuse! Because he never considered us as real partners!”

In his heart, the company will always belong to him, McKinsey. No matter how well we perform, we're just capable subordinates worthy of reward! The day we lose our usefulness, or our contributions become too great and threaten his position, he'll kick us aside without hesitation!

She took a deep breath, her tone tinged with disappointment and resolve: "Old Monster, I've been with you for so many years, from the TV station to Cinema City. What I value isn't money, but a platform where we can work freely and share the fruits of our labor!"

If this platform is fundamentally flawed, no matter how much we invest, we're just doing all the work for someone else! Wake up!

Looking at his wife's flushed cheeks and the undeniable clarity in her eyes, Tsui Hark was torn by inner turmoil.

He knew perfectly well that Shi Nansheng's words made sense.

But deep down, he still harbored a sliver of hope for brotherhood and a sense of helplessness in the face of his current predicament.

He was used to letting his imagination run wild in the world of creation, and when it came to these naked calculations of profit, he always carried a hint of escapism and wishful thinking typical of intellectuals.

“Let’s…let’s take another look.” He finally sighed dejectedly, avoiding Shi Nansheng’s scorching gaze. “Let’s talk about it after ‘Desperate Dogs Jump Over the Wall’ is released. Right now, I can’t afford to lose my composure first.”

Looking at her husband's expression, Shi Nansheng knew it would be difficult to persuade him in a short time.

She understands Tsui Hark; he values ​​relationships and cherishes the past, but he is also somewhat indecisive, especially when dealing with such complex interpersonal relationships.

She stopped pressuring, simply coldly remarking, "Fine, I'll wait and see. Let's see just how big a red envelope your 'good brother' will come up with to reward us working folks!"

She walked to her desk and began to furiously tap on the calculator, as if venting all her anger and disappointment on the cold keys.

In the office, only the monotonous ticking of the calculator and the endless sound of rain outside the window remained.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Maka was left alone in the empty conference room.

He lit a cigar, took a deep drag, and the thick smoke swirled upwards, blurring his gloomy and uncertain face.

He walked to the window, looking at the crowd gradually dispersing downstairs, his eyes cold.

Cheng Xuemin's provocation was certainly hateful, but it did indeed hit a nerve.

He will never give up his shares; that's his bottom line.

Cinema City is his kingdom, and he is the only king.

Shi Tian and Huang Baiming were early contributors to the company's success, so giving them some shares was a last resort and also a way to stabilize the situation.

Even if people like Tsui Hark and Nansun Shi are highly talented, they can only be generals who help him expand his territory.

"Profit sharing? Red envelopes?" A cold smile curled at the corner of Mai Jia's lips. "Don't worry, as long as 'Desperate Measures' makes money, you'll get your share. But want to touch the company's core? Dream on!"

He picked up the phone, dialed a number, and his tone regained its usual decisiveness:

"Hey, it's me. Get me in touch with a few newspapers I know well. I need to publish an interview tomorrow... Yes, talk about the unity of Cinema City and some irresponsible rumors spread by certain people... You know what to do."

After hanging up the phone, Mai Jia took a deep drag on his cigarette and stubbed it out hard in the ashtray.

A crisis has emerged, and he must maintain firm control of the situation.

Whether it's external figures like Cheng Xuemin and Liu Jialiang, or potential internal rifts, he has to resolve them all.

The Hong Kong film industry has never believed in tears, only in strength and skill. And this time, Karl Maka will not easily admit defeat.

In the following days, the Hong Kong film industry focused its attention on Cinema City's ill-fated film, "Desperate Dogs Jump Over the Wall."

Karl Maka indeed published interviews through several closely affiliated newspapers, trying his best to downplay the internal conflicts and emphasize the brotherhood of the seven members of Cinema City and their determination to overcome difficulties together.

In the report, he skillfully worded his statement, defining Cheng Xuemin's sharp criticism as an irresponsible and malicious attack by a competitor.

They also solemnly declared that Cinema City was united and was doing its utmost to deal with the unfair scheduling situation.

however.

These superficial actions cannot completely conceal the undercurrents.

Anyone with a discerning eye in the industry can see that Cinema City is facing not only pressure from external cinema chains, but also a test of internal trust.

In a corner of an inconspicuous tea restaurant in Kowloon Tong, Eric Tsang met with Sammo Hung.

The two sat in a booth with two glasses of iced lemon tea in front of them.

“Brother Sanmao, this time we’ve really flopped.” Eric Tsang stirred the ice in his glass, looking distressed. “McKa is just making empty promises, and that northerner Cheng Xuemin is stirring things up. I’m caught in the middle.”

Sammo Hung's chubby face was expressionless. He took a sip of his lemon tea and said slowly:

“Ah Wei, that’s how the business world is. I’ve dealt with Maka for years, and he values ​​the company more than his own life. It’s going to be difficult for you to get shares from him.”

“I didn’t expect to get any shares,” Eric Tsang said in a low voice. “I just feel frustrated. With ‘Desperate Dog’ having such a poor screening schedule, what if it flops? Wouldn’t all of us who don’t have shares have worked for nothing?”
Who knows how big that red envelope from Maka is? It's just a pie in the sky, something you can see but can't touch.

Sammo Hung chuckled, his small eyes gleaming: "That's why you need to be quick-witted. You can't just rely on one tree."

Of course, you should do your best to make "A cornered dog will jump over the wall" a success; that's your duty. But you can't neglect your own connections and resources.

I heard that at Golden Harvest, Raymond Chow, although he made a significant concession to Lau Kar-leung, is still seething with anger and looking for an opportunity to get his revenge. Don't you have a few good script ideas under your command?

Eric Tsang's eyes lit up, and he immediately understood Sammo Hung's implication: "Brother Sanmao, you mean..."

"I didn't mean anything by it." Sammo Hung waved his hand, picked up a pineapple bun from the table and took a bite. "I just wanted to remind you that you shouldn't put all your eggs in one basket."

In Hong Kong's film industry, fortunes change. Having the right mentor is important, but having your own resources provides peace of mind.

Eric Tsang nodded thoughtfully, his mind racing with calculations.

Meanwhile, in a small screening room at Golden Princess Cinemas, Karl Maka, Dean Shek, and Raymond Wong were having their final internal screening of "Desperate Dogs".

The screen flickered with light and shadow, playing the climax of the movie.

However, none of the three seemed to be fully focused on the movie. The movie ended, and the lights came on.

Raymond Wong rubbed his temples and said, "Brother Jia, the quality of the film is fine, it's packed with jokes and the pace is fast. It's just the scheduling... sigh, I'm worried that even the best film is useless without screenings."

Shi Tian also expressed his concern: "Yes, especially the prime time slots at night, which are almost entirely given to 'Martial Arts Academy.' Our shows are either early in the morning or late at night, so when do students and working people have time to watch them?"

Karl Maka's face was grim as he stared at the now-darkened screen. He gritted his teeth and said, "Complaining is useless! No matter how bad the screenings are, we have to go ahead! We have to take a gamble and hope that the film's word-of-mouth will spread!"
As for Zhiwei, I've already instructed him to mobilize all available media contacts. On premiere day, we absolutely must create a buzz! Also…”

He paused, a ruthless glint in his eyes: "Go contact those independent theater chains that have good relations with us, and see if we can add a few more screenings to their non-mainstream theaters."

We can lower the profit sharing a bit more! Even if we don't make money, we need to generate buzz!

Huang Baiming hesitated for a moment and said, "Brother Jia, this will make our profits even thinner, and we might even lose money just to make a name for ourselves."

"We can't worry about that now!" Karl Maka said firmly. "This battle is about the reputation of Cinema City, and it's also about whether we can still stand tall in the Hong Kong film industry!"
Losing some money is better than being completely looked down upon! As long as we generate buzz and remind the audience that Cinema City still has fighting spirit, we'll have a chance to turn things around!

He looked at his two old partners and softened his tone: "Tianzai, Baiming, this is the most crucial battle for the three of us brothers."

"If we pull through, we'll be rich and powerful in the future. If we don't... the consequences will be unimaginable. So, no matter what, we can't let our guard down!"

Shi Tian and Huang Baiming exchanged a glance, both seeing heavy pressure and a hint of helpless determination in each other's eyes.

They were too deeply intertwined with Maka; their fates were intertwined. At this moment, they seemed to have no better choice than to grit their teeth and step up.

In Tsui Hark and Nansun Shi's studio, however, the atmosphere was somewhat subtle.

Tsui Hark worked on the editing machine, adjusting the rhythm of the last few shots in "Desperate Dogs" over and over again, trying to achieve perfection.

Shi Nansheng stood aside, silently calculating the final advertising budget, meticulously budgeting every expense.

“Old Monster,” Shi Nansheng suddenly spoke, his voice calm and even, “the additional publicity fee that Mai Jia promised has arrived in my account.”

Tsui Hark hummed in agreement, his gaze remaining fixed on the screen.

“The amount is 30% less than what was initially agreed upon,” Shi Nansheng continued, her tone revealing neither joy nor anger.

Tsui Hark paused for a moment while operating the editing machine, then continued: "The company is probably short of funds right now, so it's good enough if the money arrives."

Shi Nansheng looked up at her husband's focused profile and sighed softly, "You... you're just too easy to talk to."

She didn't continue speaking, but simply made another entry in that thick ledger.

……

The conference room at Golden Harvest Studios was filled with smoke just as intensely as the one at Cinema City.

Sammo Hung sat on one side of the long table, a half-burnt cigar between his thick fingers, with a long pile of ash that looked like it might fall at any moment.

On the screening schedule spread out in front of him, the prime theater slots and best time slots for their Seven Little Fortunes' new film "The Prodigal Son," which were originally circled in red, were now covered by a large, glaring yellow, with the words "Temporarily reassigned to 'Martial Arts School'" next to it.

Core martial arts instructors and directors, including Yuen Kwai, Yuen Biao, Yuen Wah, and Yuen Mo, sat around the room, their faces as gloomy as the sky outside the window.

"Tch!" Sammo Hung finally couldn't hold back any longer and cursed, slamming his cigar into the ashtray, sparks flying everywhere. "That bastard Lau Kar-leung! He professed his loyalty, but dragged us all down with him!"
If we give up these screenings, what's the point of filming "The Prodigal Son"? We might as well just throw it into the saltwater ocean to feed the fish!

His already protruding belly caused him to lean forward slightly due to anger, exuding a powerful aura of pressure.

Yuen Kwai sighed, picked up the film schedule and shook it: "Brother Sanmao, getting angry won't help. Golden Harvest is doing alright; Boss Zou still left us some scraps."

"Look at Cinema City, Karl Maka and his crew are in a really bad situation, they've almost all been wiped out. At least we... still have a few decent evening shows and weekend afternoon shows."

Yuen Wah, with his calm and composed personality, pushed up his glasses and analyzed calmly: "The number of screenings is a bit lacking, but after all, it's still within Golden Harvest's own main theater chain, so there's still a guarantee of promotional resources and a basic audience."

Compared to Cinema City being relegated to those less desirable theaters, our situation is much better. The key now is how to make the most of these remaining screenings and build a good reputation.”

"Reputation? That's easier said than done!" Sammo Hung scratched his head in frustration. "The Prodigal Son takes the route of a lively and humorous kung fu comedy, emphasizing the cinematic experience, where everyone laughs and shouts together!"

"The best time slots are all given to 'Martial Arts School,' and the audience watching our film are either still half asleep in the early morning or exhausted from working overtime late at night. Who's in the mood to laugh?"

He got angrier and angrier as he spoke, slamming his fist on the table: "Damn it! If it weren't for that damned woman from the Jinma Bureau holding him back, how could Boss Zou have lost so much money?"

I really want to emulate that northerner Cheng Xuemin and write an article praising Master Liu for his profound sense of righteousness, dragging the entire bank down with him to show their loyalty!

The meeting room fell silent, and everyone could feel Sammo Hung's pent-up frustration.

At this moment, the conference room door was gently pushed open, and Raymond Chow's secretary poked his head in and whispered, "Master Hong, bosses, Mr. Chow wants to invite Brother Sanmao to his office."

Sammo Hung paused for a moment, exchanged a glance with Corey Yuen, then stood up, straightened his slightly wrinkled shirt, and waved to the crowd:

"You guys keep discussing and figure out the most effective way to arrange the remaining sessions for promotion. I'll be right back."

He followed his secretary through the brightly lit but somewhat deserted studio corridor to Raymond Chow's spacious office.

Instead of sitting behind the huge mahogany desk, Raymond Chow stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, with his back to the door, gazing at the street scene of Kowloon Tong outside.

Hearing footsteps, he slowly turned around, his face showing a hint of fatigue, but his eyes remained sharp.

"Sanmao, you're here. Have a seat." Raymond Chow pointed to the sofa next to him, sat down first, and picked up the purple clay teapot on the coffee table to pour Sammo Hung a cup of strong tea that had already been brewed.

The tea soup is dark red in color and has a bitter aroma.

“Mr. Zou.” Sammo Hung sat down opposite him, his back straight, his hands on his knees, looking somewhat reserved.

In front of Raymond Chow, the big boss who had mentored him, he put away the rough and boisterous manner he displayed in front of his own brothers.

"The film schedule, did you see it?" Raymond Chow asked directly and calmly.

Sammo Hung nodded and said in a low voice, "I see. Mr. Zou, this time... we're in a difficult position."

“I know!” Raymond Chow gently blew on the steam rising from his teacup and took a small sip. “Not only are you in a difficult position, but everyone at Golden Harvest is in a difficult position. As for Golden Princess, Cinema City is even more furious.”

He put down his teacup and looked directly at Sammo Hung. "But this is a political task, personally ordered by Jiang Fengqi. Lei Juekun and I had no choice."

Unless, they no longer want to do business in Kinmen and Matsu.

Sammo Hung's throat moved as if he wanted to say something, but he swallowed it back.

He knew Raymond Chow was telling the truth. In Hong Kong, especially for companies like theirs that rely on overseas markets, there are certain lines they can't touch and certain pressures they have to bear.

Raymond Chow observed Sammo Hung's reaction, leaned forward slightly, lowered his voice, and spoke with a tone of heartfelt sincerity:

“Sanmao, you’ve been with me for so many years, you should understand that I, Raymond Chow, have always been clear about the difference between interests and long-term goals.”

This sacrifice of capital to Liu Jialiang was a last resort, a desperate measure to save the day.

He paused, a shrewd calculation flashing in his eyes: "But, cutting off the flesh doesn't mean we can only watch the blood drain away."

Liu Chia-liang's "The Martial Arts School" generated a lot of hype, with the Golden Horse Awards backing it and a dominant number of screenings. But ultimately, it's the audience who votes with their feet and pays for their films.

Sammo Hung looked up, seemingly catching the deeper meaning in Raymond Chow's words: "Mr. Chow, what do you mean?"

……

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