Chapter 91: No Comment

It was Fa Ge and Huazai who reminded Wu Zhenyu in time. Fa Ge gave Huazai an appreciative glance, admiring his sharpness. Fa Ge had guessed what the reporters would ask due to his extensive experience, while Huazai relied purely on his quick reflexes—no wonder he became a superstar later on.
Fa Ge took Wu Zhenyu’s place and smiled at the reporters. The reporters, upon seeing Wu Zhenyu, almost blurted out their questions, so excited they could barely stay still. But suddenly, the situation changed drastically. Wu Zhenyu not only swallowed his words but also let Fa Ge face those cunning reporters.
“If you have any questions, feel free to ask me. Don’t put Wu Yu in trouble,” Fa Ge said. It was well-known that he cared for newcomers. After giving Wu Zhenyu a reassuring gesture, he turned to the reporters and said, “But if it’s the same question as before, I can tell you four words—No Comment!”
This was Xiao Ran’s idea. His abduction had left a record at the police station, and the reporters could definitely find out if they tried. Rather than let them discover it, he decided to use it to his advantage and create a buzz for his future career.
Unwilling to go empty-handed, the reporters asked again, “Is it true that four people died at the location where Xiao Ran was hidden after his abduction? And were the abductors motivated by money or revenge?”
Fa Ge laughed heartily. He knew this persistent reporter—Chen Dayan, a reporter from China Times. Although he disliked such persistent questioning, he couldn’t help but admire the reporter’s determination. “Chen Dayan, are you always this persistent? Once again, I can only give you four words…”
“No Comment, right?” Chen Dayan was actually quite young, in his twenties. Disappointed, he muttered, “I knew it would be that answer! But I have one more question, completely unrelated to the abduction. Fa Ge, can you tell me why Boss Liang led the team personally but didn’t show up at the premiere?”
“He’s sick—just a cold!” Fa Ge answered readily, leaving Wu Zhenyu in awe. “That’s why he couldn’t come. I think this answer satisfies you!”
“I doubt it’s just a cold!” Chen Dayan smiled slyly before saying regretfully, “It’s a shame. I really wanted to get his signature!”
The next day, when Lin Guiyun saw Xiao Ran off at the airport, she couldn’t help but give him a thumbs up. “A Ran, you’re really good at this. You have such talented people under you yet don’t even reveal them.” Her gaze then shifted to Guan Xin, but she felt this middle-aged man didn’t seem like someone who could kill four strong men in one go. Xiao Ran laughed and said, “Brother Yun, that’s a bit exaggerated!”
“Don’t worry. If that bastard Wang Minggui dares to cross the line and mess with you, I won’t let him off easy!” Lin Guiyun didn’t press further but warned Xiao Ran fiercely, “A Ran, you’re not planning to just let him go, are you?”
“Of course not, but it’s not urgent. He can’t die anytime soon anyway!” Xiao Ran spoke softly, not as loudly as Lin Guiyun, and smiled. “It’s not that I won’t take revenge; it’s just not the right time yet.”

After returning to Hong Kong, Xiao Ran rested for just a few days before resuming his miserable life—being publicly humiliated by Zhan Shu during the day and locked up by Guan Xin in the mornings and afternoons like a dead dog. Though his life was indeed miserable, Xiao Ran still felt it was necessary to have some self-protection skills.

As for Taiwan, Lin Guiyun called to tell him that the Wang family had been forced to withdraw from Taipei. Hearing this, Xiao Ran chuckled—there were some things he didn’t need to handle personally. For example, with Gu Long, although he handed the man over to Ghost King Dong last time, the man’s hand was still cut off, and his revenge was still taken.

Thinking of this, he felt he was quite cunning, almost like a super-villain from a novel. Upon reflection, he realized he had become more scheming and manipulative since becoming the boss of the film company. However, this clearly hadn’t affected his straightforward nature with friends.

Shortly after returning to Hong Kong, Ghost King Dong, the leader of Lianying, called to ask about his abduction. Xiao Ran had to admire Ghost King Dong’s ability to keep a low profile, though his tone amused Xiao Ran.

Ghost King Dong asked in a tentative tone if the news that those four people had been killed in one move was true, and whether it was Xiao Ran’s men who did it. Xiao Ran didn’t want to hide anything from him, so after consulting Guan Xin, he admitted it was his bodyguards who did it.

When Ghost King Dong learned that Xiao Ran’s bodyguards were the middle-aged men who had accompanied him to the teahouse for negotiations that day, he was shocked. He had originally planned to kill Xiao Ran, and if Xiao Ran hadn’t so generously handed him over out of loyalty to the code of chivalry, he might have attacked him right then.

Now, reflecting on it, Ghost King Dong realized how terrifying the situation had been. If he had really attacked, killing someone in just one move, that middle-aged man might not have been able to protect Xiao Ran, but he would definitely have killed him.

Not long after Ghost King Dong hung up, Xiang Qiang and the eldest brother of Thirteen K also called to ask about Xiao Ran’s situation. Xiao Ran gave the same answer, and on the other end of the line, it seemed the callers remained silent for a while before speaking.

Xiao Ran found the behavior of these three guys extremely amusing, but he didn’t expect the news to spread through their mouths to their subordinates, who then passed it on further. Within a week, the news that Xiao Ran had top-notch experts capable of killing someone in one move spread throughout the underworld. Suddenly, Xiao Ran, who wasn’t part of the underworld, became one of its most famous figures.

Of course, Xiao Ran hadn’t anticipated such consequences—even a god couldn’t keep track of everything. Besides, he had other things to do. Just a few days after July, two days before the release of *Prison Storm*, Liu Zhenwei approached Xiao Ran, saying the script for *The Gambling God* was already complete.

Since Xiao Ran, as the boss, hardly paid attention to management matters, and Liu Zhenwei, as the director, didn’t need to go to the company, they agreed to meet at a tea restaurant to discuss the script. After ordering food, Liu Zhenwei showed Xiao Ran the script.

This situation reminded Xiao Ran of how he had once sent his scripts around. Only now had the situation reversed—others were sending scripts to him. For a moment, he forgot to read the script and began to ponder deeply in his seat. In just two years, he had become the boss of a film company and the top screenwriter in Hong Kong. What achievements might he have by another two years?

Seeing that Xiao Ran seemed lost in thought, Liu Zhenwei couldn’t help but cough lightly. “Boss, take a look at this script!”

Xiao Ran snapped out of his thoughts and smiled apologetically at him. “Liu, I’ve said I don’t need you to call me that. Just call me Aran! Wait a moment, let me take a look first!”

Liu Zhenwei didn’t really want to call such a young guy “boss.” Although he thought the guy truly had the ability to be a boss, it still felt awkward. He had always called him Aran before, but in the past month or two, he felt he could no longer call him Aran directly, as if there was some invisible pressure.

Unaware of Liu Zhenwei’s awkward feelings, Xiao Ran continued to browse the script. After reading just the first nine paragraphs, he was slightly surprised. The story was similar to what he knew, but it lacked those funny elements.

The most typical example was the protagonist’s entrance, which used to be a funny moment, but it was gone now—instead of being from the mainland, the protagonist was now from Hong Kong. The character of the third uncle also no longer had his mental disorder; it seemed everything had been filtered out, turning it into a serious drama similar to Xiao Ran’s version of “The God of Gamblers.”

He was now curious why Liu Zhenwei hadn’t included the elements he knew. After thinking for a while, he decided to ask indirectly, “Liu, what was your idea behind conceiving this script?”

Liu Zhenwei took a sip of his milk tea and, seeing Xiao Ran’s calm expression, grew uneasy, wondering if something was wrong. “After watching ‘The God of Gamblers,’ I thought this was a topic with great potential, and few people had explored it. So I thought, what if supernatural abilities could be used in gambling?”

Upon hearing this, seeing Xiao Ran smile and nod, Liu Zhenwei felt a little relieved. “I thought about winning a lot of money with supernatural abilities, but still not achieving mental satisfaction. Also, I thought the theme of the script could be about the mindset after becoming rich, or rather, how much happiness gambling can bring to people.”

Xiao Ran was slightly shocked. He hadn’t expected Liu Zhenwei to have gone further than he thought—he had already started considering an anti-gambling theme. After hesitating for a moment, he waved his hand. “Wait a second, let me read the script again!”

He browsed it more carefully this time, not even noticing that Liu Zhenwei had ordered another cup of ice milk tea. When he put down the script, his mind was in turmoil. This script was almost completely different from what he knew, aside from the general storyline.

The theme of the script is to analyze the meaning of gambling at a certain level; although it is not an essential analysis, it is still a rather rare form of reflection. The most typical example is the character Xingzi, who serves as a negative figure, providing a contrast with Sanshu, a character who finds happiness in gambling, thus offering a comparative perspective.
*****
Novel title — Wu Zhenyu
Real name — Wu Zhenyu
Wu Zhenyu is regarded by film fans as one of the three great actors in Hong Kong cinema, along with Wong Chau-sang and Liu Qingyun. Almost everyone knows Wu Zhenyu. A brief introduction: he became famous through his role as Leung Kun in “Crazy Gangsters.” In his early days, he worked as an extra for TVB and later appeared in many poor-quality films. It was not until the late 1990s, after starring in films like “Gunfire,” that he gained widespread recognition.