Chapter 235: Visitors from the Continent

The visitor was naturally Li Ka-shing, followed closely by Li Zekai. Upon hearing Xiao Ran’s words, Li Ka-shing couldn’t help but smile bitterly inwardly. At Xiao Ran’s birthday party, every prominent figure in society would fight to get in, and yet there were a few who didn’t want to come. Of course, those who were truly too busy were excluded.

Of course, Li Ka-shing didn’t need to fear Xiao Ran, but given their relationship, it would be unreasonable for him not to attend. Moreover, he wanted to bring his son to meet more people so as to build a strong network in the future.

Li Ka-shing still didn’t understand why Xiao Ran had invited some people from the film industry instead of some famous celebrities. He always thought that with Xiao Ran’s status and influence, there was no need to associate with those stars and filmmakers.

Smiling, he shook hands with Xiao Ran before having his bodyguard deliver a gift. When Xiao Ran opened it, he found it to be a true national treasure—a golden crown-adorned Jade Guanyin. Its value was beyond mention, and it was unclear where Li Ka-shing had acquired it.

“Old Li, thank you so much. Accepting such a precious gift—I really don’t know what to give you in return!” Xiao Ran said joyfully, stroking it before handing it to his servants to put away.

“What return, President Xiao? Do we really need to talk about that?” Li Ka-shing laughed heartily before introducing Li Zekai: “This is my eldest son, whom you’ve already met! If you have the chance in the future, please give him some support.”

“Brother Xiao, may your fortune be as vast as the East Sea and your lifespan as long as the Southern Mountains!” Li Zekai spoke sweetly. In fact, he had a delicate appearance, bearing some resemblance to Li Chao Ren.

Xiao Ran carefully observed this young man who had orchestrated Hong Kong’s largest acquisition deal in history. After nodding, he said, “Zekai, learn well from your father. He is a true master in business.”

After greeting wealthy figures such as Zheng Yutong and Li Ka-shing, Peng Dingkang, the governor of Hong Kong who had been in office for a year, also arrived. Xiao Ran rushed up to him with great enthusiasm. If others didn’t know their relationship, they might think they were close friends for years: “Governor, thank goodness you’ve come! It’s truly an honor!”

“Oh, no!” Peng Dingkang felt cold sweat break out on his forehead. Facing Xiao Ran’s hypocritically enthusiastic smile, he couldn’t feel at ease at all. Especially since he still remembered last year’s events vividly, which only deepened his fear.

Not long after taking office last year, he began implementing Britain’s strategies, repeatedly attacking the mainland. He even planned to target the film industry. At first, Xiao Ran didn’t care much. But one day, this foolish politician blurted out to the press that Hong Kong cinema needed reform.

Xiao Ran was instantly enraged. No one could encroach on his territory—not even the emperor himself. Seizing the opportunity while Soros was preparing to attack the pound’s exchange rate, Fang Xiaoqiang launched an assault on the pound with $6 billion.

That battle was truly earth-shattering. Under the attack by international speculators led by Soros and Fang Xiaoqiang, the British pound was on the verge of collapse. The British government poured huge amounts of money into supporting the currency, but to no avail. Meanwhile, based on new intelligence, Shuxiang and ATV caused several scandals in the media controlled by the UK, immediately putting the ruling party under constant attack.

Afterward, Shadow made over a billion dollars from this, and then carelessly revealed the reasons behind the attack to the British authorities. As a result, Patten was nearly beaten to death during his return to report on his duties and almost became the first governor of Hong Kong to be removed from office. From then on, Patten became extremely cautious around Xiao Ran, as he now knew who he could afford to offend and who he couldn’t.

To be honest, Xiao Ran really wanted to oust Patten, but unfortunately, he failed. Patten was a politician, and having him manage Hong Kong was part of the British government’s strategy—otherwise, why would they leave such a valuable place to China? So, Xiao Ran came painfully close to success.

Since Patten dared not act recklessly, Xiao Ran temporarily gave up on the idea, at least until he did something foolish enough to give him a solid reason to act. After exchanging a few words with this governor, who was hypocritical, the vice minister of culture sent from the mainland finally arrived.

However, the arrival surprised Xiao Ran greatly. He never expected that this so-called vice minister to be Huang Qun, someone he had met before in Yindu. Xiao Ran vaguely remembered that Huang Qun was indeed one of the high-ranking officials in the central government, but he definitely shouldn’t have been the vice minister of culture.

Upon seeing Xiao Ran, Huang Qun immediately smiled and stepped forward accompanied by his secretary and bodyguards. He shook Xiao Ran’s hand and said, “President Xiao, I’m afraid you don’t remember me! I’m Huang Qun.”

Xiao Ran felt confused for a moment before figuring it out. Most likely, the central government regarded Hong Kong cinema as a key leader among Chinese-language films, so Huang Qun, who had already interacted with Xiao Ran, naturally became the vice minister to facilitate communication.

Realizing this, Xiao Ran’s mind became sharp again, and he said with a smile, “Of course I haven’t forgotten. I was even curious last time why you asked Jiang Zhiguang to convey that thank-you message to me!”

“Let’s talk about that later. Come in and sit first!” Huang Qun smiled at Xiao Ran but quickly reverted to his cold demeanor, though his high status gave him a sense of authority.

After entering, Xiao Ran arranged for Huang Qun to meet Yang Qi and the others. Then he wandered around with Lin Qingxia among the crowd, with laughter filling the air. It was unclear how many deals were struck at this banquet.

After some busy moments, Xiao Ran finally found time to sit down next to Li Ka-shing, while Wei Dongling was talking with others. Li Ka-shing’s son, Li Zekai, seemed to have disappeared somewhere, which actually helped them discuss business.

Xiao Ran and Wei Dongling had already decided that Huang should be kept under control. In Xiao Ran’s view, Hong Kong Telecom’s development in the 21st century would be far inferior to what it is now. It might be a good investment option, but running it themselves wouldn’t be cost-effective.

So, exchanging Wharf Holdings’ shares for HK Telecom would benefit both parties. Li Ka-shing clearly saw this and remained very calm. Xiao Ran waved his hand, got a glass of water, took a sip, and then said with a sigh, “Old Li, we can sell Wharf Holdings to you! But I want to see your sincerity.”

Li Ka-shing smiled; he was also very optimistic about the telecommunications industry. However, if Wharf Holdings merged with Cheung Kong, Cheung Kong would undoubtedly become the largest company in Hong Kong. Perhaps it could be operated for a few more years before being sold, still yielding substantial profits.

“You know HK Telecom’s current market value is 180 billion, while Wharf Holdings’ is 150 billion,” Li Ka-shing said, clearly prepared, and immediately proposed a plan: “I’ll give you 10% of HK Telecom’s shares, along with 12 billion in cash, in exchange for 20% of Wharf Holdings’ shares!”

Xiao Ran nodded. He actually had no objections to this plan. The day before yesterday, Meiying had already increased her stake in HK Telecom Holdings to 20%. Together with Li Ka-shing’s 10%, it was enough to make her the largest shareholder of HK Telecom. However, they still needed to discuss the specific price.

The deal was basically settled. When most of the guests had left, Xiao Ran, Huang Qun, Yang Qi, and two others discussed this extremely important matter by the swimming pool. Huang Qun waved at him when he arrived.

After everyone sat down, Huang Qun said seriously, “You all know that the central government intends to develop Hong Kong as a base for Chinese cinema. I’m sure you’re also aware that a draft of the relevant regulations has been prepared. Now, the central government wants to hear your opinions. You can take a look at this draft first!”

He took out several documents from his briefcase and handed them to Xiao Ran and the others. Xiao Ran carefully reviewed them. The draft wasn’t very complicated. First, for ancillary products like DVDs, Hong Kong investors were allowed to hold 51% of the shares on the mainland, which meant they would have control.

Next was the censorship system, which imposed several restrictions—naturally, it prohibited anti-party, anti-social, or feudal superstitious content. What made Xiao Ran frown deeply was that it also banned explicit scenes. The prohibition on feudal superstition also annoyed him greatly; the film “Big Boss” had failed miserably because of this.

Moreover, the scenes couldn’t be too bloody or violent, which seemed somewhat abstract. Xiao Ran believed that defining what constituted bloodiness was difficult. A typical example was “Night in Mong Kok,” which actually didn’t contain much bloodiness. Yet, during review, a few scenes at the end were deemed bloody, forcing the use of black-and-white footage to compensate.

The key wasn’t the restrictions but the rating system. Without a rating system, it would be hard to categorize movies appropriately. No wonder Hong Kong films in the 21st century focused solely on mediocre comedies—this way, they avoided violating mainland censorship rules. The consequences were obvious: every genre needed variety. If only one type of story was told repeatedly, it would lead to aesthetic fatigue.

If that were truly the case, R-rated films like “Sex and the City,” which contain absolutely no pornographic content, would surely not be allowed in theaters. This is undoubtedly a critical factor—having a rating system provides guidance for audiences when watching movies.

Next is distribution. Still, no practical solution has been proposed; it remains left to China Film Group. This is simply unfair—assigning distribution to China Film Group? What a joke! Do they have such professional marketing and distribution teams? If given to them, even a film with 100 million in box office revenue might only earn 10 million.

What remains is the theater sector. This time, investment projects for theaters have finally been opened up. But when Xiao Ran took a closer look at the figures, he was immediately stunned—foreign investors are only allowed to hold up to 49% of the shares.

Yang Qi and the others were also shocked. This restriction meant that investing in theaters was out of the question! Don’t think mainland businessmen are stupid—there are far more profitable options to pursue at this time. Moreover, theater investments take a long time to turn a profit, while few other industries require such a long period.

So, who would want to invest in theaters? According to their calculations, the mainland needs at least 1,000 theaters within two to three years, with each theater having at least six screening rooms—that’s 6,000 screens. The United States, with just 200 million people, has 20,000 screens. So, 6,000 is just a figure for three years.

How much would it cost to build 1,000 high-standard theaters? Based on current mainland prices, it would cost at least 2 billion. And don’t forget, this doesn’t include the audio-visual equipment in the theaters.

With billions in investment required, how many businessmen in the mainland would dare to invest so much in theaters? It’s an impossible task. Pan Disheng and the others had already contacted banks and started raising funds for theater investments. This sudden change was simply killing them.

“No!” As soon as Yang Qi spoke, he realized his tone wasn’t good, so he quickly softened it and said, “Such conditions are hard to meet and won’t benefit Chinese-language movies at all!”

Pan Disheng and the other two naturally agreed. Getting stuck here would cause huge problems—it was definitely not the outcome they wanted. Huang Qun glanced at them briefly before turning his attention to Xiao Ran, knowing that he was the one who could make the decision. “What do you think?”

Pan Disheng and the others stared intently at Xiao Ran. They all followed Xiao Ran’s lead. Over the past few years, as “Shadow” opened up the market, they had made huge profits by following him. Even the stupidest would know to choose the right leader.

Xiao Ran pondered for a moment. In a sense, this draft represented a significant opening up by the mainland government. If it weren’t for his two discussions with the leaders about the cultural and entertainment industry, and the central government’s recognition of Hong Kong films as domestic films, it would have been very difficult to achieve this.

He also fully understood the various restrictions in this draft—after all, Hong Kong was still under British rule. He believed true openness would only come after the handover in 1997. But until then, he had to work hard to secure a survival opportunity for Hong Kong films; otherwise, all his previous efforts would be in vain.

However, he dared to assert that this draft was certainly not the final result. Since the central government regarded Hong Kong films as its own, it should understand the difficulties faced by Hong Kong films, especially now that France has begun to prepare for protectionist measures. Therefore, this was likely a test by the central government.
In those fleeting moments, he thought deeply before shaking his head and saying, “I have no objection to opening up ancillary products like videotapes; there are only minor differences in the censorship system. It’s hard for us to accept China Film continuing to monopolize distribution. And the biggest issue is the cinemas—unless we can have absolute control, we can’t arrange them according to our vision, which puts us in a difficult position.”