Chapter 336: Laying the Groundwork for the Film Industry
Just moments ago, Zou Wenhuai had acted like there was no room for negotiation. But now, he froze for a second, turned around, and asked, "Yang Sheng? The Post-it Note King?"
In Hong Kong, Yang Wendong had long become a legendary figure in the entrepreneurial world, as well as the leader of one of the top Chinese business conglomerates.
Strictly speaking, Yang Wendong's main assets were no longer just Post-it notes, but the public still habitually referred to him as the Post-it Note King.
Seeing that Zou Wenhuai had paused, Zhang Zhiyuan immediately knew the message had landed. He said, "Yes, it's Yang Sheng. After learning about your background, he specifically asked to meet with you in person."
"Yang Sheng wants to see me just because of foreign film distribution?" Zou Wenhuai asked, clearly in disbelief. "To him, the money from foreign box office rights is nothing more than pocket change."
Zhang Zhiyuan chuckled lightly. "Foreign distribution is just a very small part of it. Yang Sheng's real purpose is to establish a full-fledged film production company—on the same level as Shaw Brothers."
"You're seriously planning to enter the film industry?" Zou Wenhuai asked again.
This would be a seismic shift for the entire industry. No matter how small a sector might be, once a major corporation entered, regardless of their expertise, it would send shockwaves through every existing player in that space.
"Yes," Zhang Zhiyuan nodded. "But our boss's sights aren't set solely on the Hong Kong market. What he wants is for Hong Kong films to sell across Asia—and even globally. Changxing Group hasn't ventured into film before, so we need a seasoned professional to lead the charge. And Yang Sheng believes that person is you."
Zou Wenhuai paused to think for a moment. "When would this meeting happen?"
"Sometime in the next few days," Zhang Zhiyuan replied with a smile. "I need to confirm the exact time. Once it's finalized, I'll give you a call."
"Alright." Zou Wenhuai nodded in agreement.
Back home, Zou Wenhuai looked visibly unsettled. His wife, Yuan Xihua, asked with concern, "What's wrong? Work problems? Is it about the Calabash Brothers movie?"
Over the past couple of weeks, Calabash Brothers had become a minor sensation in Hong Kong. Most affluent families with children had already gone to see it.
"It's somewhat related, but not entirely," Zou Wenhuai said. "You remember the guy who came to speak with me before? He showed up again today. This time, he said… Yang Wendong, the Post-it Note King, wants to meet me."
"Yang Wendong wants to meet you?" Yuan Xihua asked in surprise. "Why? For a little animated movie? If they wanted to poach you, someone like him wouldn't need to get personally involved, would he?"
"I don't think that's the whole picture," Zou Wenhuai said. "Based on what Zhang Sheng told me, Changxing Group plans to enter the film industry in a big way. And their ambitions go far beyond Hong Kong—they're aiming for all of Asia."
"That makes more sense," Yuan Xihua nodded. "So, what are you thinking?"
"I don't know yet. That's why I want to meet him first. If Yang Sheng sends a personal invitation, turning it down would be incredibly disrespectful."
"You're right. If you refuse, you might be passing up a huge opportunity," Yuan Xihua said.
"But Run Run Shaw has treated me well. Wouldn't it be wrong of me to do this?" Zou Wenhuai hesitated.
"'Treated you well'? How exactly?" Yuan Xihua countered. "Did he give you company shares? Buy you a house or a car? The only thing he's given you is management authority. And that's because you're competent—the better you manage the company, the more money he makes. But how much are you actually earning? A meager fixed salary? Sacrificing your health and youth to make someone else rich?"
"Sigh…" Zou Wenhuai had no argument. His wife was right.
Shaw Brothers' annual net profits had surpassed a million. Last year's The Legend of the White Snake had pulled in HKD 790,000 in box office revenue alone. Run Run Shaw was raking it in. And him?
Sure, having management authority brought some fringe benefits, but there were limits. And if he didn't want to risk going to jail, he couldn't get too greedy. Hong Kong might be corrupt, but there were still laws. They might not control the police, but they definitely could come down hard on a salaried employee. Even a "high-level" one was just a bigger ant.
Their family wasn't struggling, but compared to peers in other companies, they were clearly behind.
"Then wait and meet with Yang Sheng first," Yuan Xihua said.
"Mm." Zou Wenhuai nodded in agreement.
April 14, 1963
It had been 12 days since the release of Calabash Brothers, and its box office had officially passed the HKD 500,000 mark.
Zhang Zhiyuan walked into Yang Wendong's office to report the latest figures. "Yang Sheng, based on feedback from multiple theaters, attendance has been steadily dropping. Some of them are planning to reduce daytime showings, but they'll still keep a daily screening slot."
"Alright," Yang Wendong nodded. "The market's limited. Just keep a few extra screens on it. We're still aiming for a final box office of around HKD 600,000?"
"Yes, between HKD 600,000 and HKD 650,000," Zhang Zhiyuan replied. "Mainly because young singles and childless couples aren't going to see it—and they make up the bulk of the movie-going audience.
Even Shaw Brothers plays with data. One common trick is offering cheap late-night screenings to pad numbers. But our film is aimed at kids. Late-night showings don't work."
"Yeah, that's the challenge with animated films. But it also means less competition. So there's good and bad," Yang Wendong said.
"Exactly. Right now, we're the only ones in Hong Kong capable of producing animated movies," Zhang Zhiyuan added with a grin. "Also, we're about 30 minutes away from the meeting with Zou Wenhuai. Here's his dossier—please take a look."
"Alright… let's see." Yang Wendong accepted the folder.
Even in this era, large companies performed background checks, though nowhere near as easily as internet companies did in his previous life. Before interviewing someone for a high-level position, it was standard to review their background.
As soon as he opened the folder and saw the first page, Yang Wendong exclaimed in shock, "Is this real? Zou Wenhuai's monthly salary is only HKD 1,500?"
"Yes, it's true. I was just as surprised when I first saw it," Zhang Zhiyuan explained. "I had it verified. That's his base salary. At year-end, Run Run Shaw gives him a separate bonus, but the amount varies—depends on Shaw's mood and the year's performance."
Yang Wendong raised an eyebrow. With Shaw Brothers earning millions, their third-highest-ranking executive was making HKD 1,500 per month?
This kind of underpayment was common in legacy Chinese businesses. Authority was granted, but the actual financial rewards were tightly controlled. It was a classic "squeeze the talent" model—exploit competence for low cost. And it worked… until someone came along with the capital and vision to poach that talent away.
Yang Wendong chuckled. "I'd always heard Run Run Shaw was stingy—but I didn't expect him to be this stingy."
By 1963, Hong Kong's level of industrialization had improved considerably compared to when Yang Wendong first transmigrated, and with the rapid development of real estate over the past few years, average wages had also risen dramatically. Although they hadn't kept up with housing prices, the increase was still significant.
Official statistics showed that the average wage had surpassed HKD 400. A skilled worker earned around HKD 200, slightly less in Kowloon and slightly more on Hong Kong Island. A clerk with some education could expect to make HKD 500 to 600 per month.
Meanwhile, middle managers at Changxing Group were typically paid upwards of HKD 1,000. For someone like Zou Wenhuai—third-in-command at Hong Kong's largest film company—to earn just HKD 1,500 per month was shockingly low. That income was barely enough to buy property in a mid-tier location on the Island. No wonder that, in the original timeline, he would eventually go off and start his own company.
Zhang Zhiyuan added, "Yes, and it's not just Zou Wenhuai. Most people working at Shaw Brothers don't earn much—many are paid less than ordinary factory workers."
"Hm, well then, that's going to be our opportunity going forward," Yang Wendong said with a grin.
In his past life, the same issue existed at TVB. Many actors couldn't earn a living wage. Even rising stars, so-called "small flower actresses," couldn't afford homes. It was worlds apart from the celebrity status of mainland Chinese entertainers.
Fifteen minutes later, Zou Wenhuai arrived early. Zhang Zhiyuan brought him to Yang Wendong's office.
"Mr. Zou, welcome," Yang Wendong greeted with a friendly smile.
"Yang Sheng, it's an honor to meet you," Zou Wenhuai replied, a bit stunned that someone of Yang Wendong's stature was being so polite.
"Please, have a seat," Yang Wendong offered.
"Thank you," Zou Wenhuai said, sitting down. The assistant brought out tea that had been prepared in advance, then quietly exited, leaving just the three of them in the room.
Yang Wendong didn't waste time with small talk. He got straight to the point. "Mr. Zou, I plan to formally establish a film company and enter the movie industry. But I need someone with experience to lead the effort—and I'd like that someone to be you."
Zou Wenhuai paused, then asked, "Yang Sheng, may I ask—what are your plans for this film company? Will you focus solely on animation, or will you be producing traditional films as well?"
"Both," Yang Wendong replied. "The future Changxing Film Company will operate under Changxing Culture, but its operations will be independently managed. Changxing Culture will continue to focus on animation—handling storyboarding and design—then pass the completed works to the film company for release.
Your side will handle live-action and traditional filmmaking. You'll do what you do best. If the market wants martial arts flicks, then make those. Just like at Shaw Brothers."
Zou Wenhuai asked, "What about theater distribution?"
"When Changxing Film is officially launched," Yang Wendong said, "Changxing Real Estate's theater division will be transferred under your control. However, every company under my group must stay within its designated scope of business. Expansion is allowed within that scope, but you are not to touch other business lines.
That means, the theaters will be under your management—but if we need to relocate or redevelop them in the future, the authority remains with Changxing Real Estate."
"Understood." Zou Wenhuai nodded. Many large companies had similar internal policies. He then asked, "Will I have final say on all operational decisions?"
"You'll have full authority over all film-related professional decisions," Yang Wendong confirmed. "However, the company's finances and executive appointments will still be monitored and managed by the group. Additionally, I will be involved in major strategic decisions. That's standard for all my subsidiaries."
"Then may I ask," Zou Wenhuai continued, "do you already have a specific vision for the direction the film division should take?"
Yang Wendong nodded. "I have two main priorities. First, I want to emphasize foreign distribution. Changxing Culture needs to bring its animation overseas, and that requires coordination with the film division. Plus, you already know that most Hong Kong films only become profitable when they perform well abroad."
"That's very true," Zou Wenhuai agreed. "But many Southeast Asian theater chains hold a lot of leverage in overseas deals. Hong Kong studios only get a tiny piece of the pie."
"Oh? Even Shaw Brothers and Cathay face that issue?" Yang Wendong asked.
To be honest, he wasn't especially familiar with Hong Kong's film industry during this period. Without the internet, researching a new field was slow and inefficient. His understanding of Hong Kong cinema was mostly limited to the 1980s and 1990s.
"Shaw Brothers and Cathay are in a better position," Zou Wenhuai explained. "Shaw has a long-standing network across Southeast Asia—they own a lot of theater property there and have built solid relationships with local distributors. Because of this, they keep a big portion of their own foreign sales and can demand better prices. Once Shaw Brothers' theaters started performing well in South Asia, buyers from other countries became more willing to pay premium prices—lower risk, higher reward.
As for Cathay, their boss Lu Yuntao also has deep connections in Taiwan and Southeast Asia, so they're able to command higher rates too. The smaller studios? If they even manage to sell foreign rights, they're lucky. There's no room for negotiation."
"Sounds a lot like my other industries," Yang Wendong said with a smirk. "In the end, it all comes down to channels."
"So that means," he added, "our films will be hard-pressed to fetch high prices overseas too, won't they?"
"If I were to join you," Zou Wenhuai said after a moment's thought, "I could try to negotiate. But matching the rates Shaw and Cathay get will be difficult."
"Fair enough," Yang Wendong nodded. "That just shows the Hong Kong film industry hasn't matured enough. If every film could guarantee profits, then buyers wouldn't be so aggressive with their pricing."
While in most industries, controlling distribution was the golden rule, a truly outstanding product could flip the balance of power. Look at Apple—when the iPhone first launched, carriers bent over backwards to get it.
"You're absolutely right," Zou Wenhuai replied. "The good news is that in recent years, Hong Kong films have been doing better—not just locally but overseas too. Foreign theater chains are starting to see the value. Things will only improve from here."
"I believe in the potential of Hong Kong cinema too," Yang Wendong said. "But that's why my second priority is this: when the time is right, I want to invest in overseas theaters—just like Shaw. That's the only way to secure the foundation of the business."
Hit movies might rake in massive profits—but they were rare, and the risk was equally high. Plenty of Hollywood studios had gone bankrupt over a flop. Even some of the major studios had been sold off multiple times. But you almost never heard about movie theater chains going under.
More importantly, controlling overseas distribution meant that, come the 1990s—when Hollywood movies stormed the global market—Hong Kong cinema would at least have a solid foothold to hold its ground.
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