Chapter 220: A Surprising Encounter with Xiao Wu

Fage and Honggu widened their eyes. They immediately thought that Wei Dongling might want to discuss company matters with Xiao Ran and realized that hearing such secrets from others wasn’t a good thing. Just as they were about to leave, Wei Dongling held them back.
Wei Dongling didn’t want them to go; he just wanted to share his thoughts on Xiao Ran’s recent behavior. Fage and Honggu had the closest relationship with Xiao Ran, so their help would surely make things easier. As Xiao Ran sat there, confused and staring at Wei Dongling, he hesitated about where to start. “Aran, have you noticed any changes in yourself over the past six months?”
“I’ve already thought it through. Don’t worry!” Xiao Ran forced a bitter smile. He had been reflecting on exactly this issue. He didn’t want to end up like those once-famous businessmen who, after achieving some success, immediately became self-indulgent and arrogant toward others.
It wasn’t easy for him to realize this, as his nature was peaceful and he valued freedom. If someone else had achieved his level of success in five years, they would likely have become extremely arrogant by now.
It had to be admitted that it was precisely because of Xiao Ran’s love for freedom that he had become so domineering. Deep down, he didn’t want others to interfere in his life; he wanted to follow his own path. The clash between his peaceful and enthusiastic way of handling things and his current dominance sometimes led him to do unreasonable things, such as investing in Debao and Tianluo.
Don’t think his achievements are insignificant—wealth alone doesn’t mean much. In Southeast Asia, Xiao Ran was now seen not only as a super-rich man but also as a genius with extraordinary talent. Such fame and reputation even made Li Ka-shing envious. People said he knew how to make money, but no one mentioned his talent.
Throughout history, talent and money seemed incompatible. In people’s eyes, Xiao Ran was the only one who could combine these two qualities. Coupled with his good looks, if he weren’t already married, countless women would likely want to marry him. After all, Xiao Ran had topped lists of the most envied men and the most desired husbands for two years in a row.
If not for his self-restraint, Xiao Ran would have become ten times more domineering than he was now and might even have turned into an unpleasant person. But since he was now aware of this, he wouldn’t let it happen.
Last night, Xiao Ran thought a lot. He realized that his changes were due to his growing wealth and status. He realized he was trying to control everything because he could no longer keep up with history, and he realized that many of his actions didn’t conform to market principles.
Now, Xiao Ran had sorted out his thoughts. He needed to change his mindset and prepare himself to face Hollywood in a more energetic and competitive state. As he had said to Lucas, monopolies were indeed the most profitable. But his goal wasn’t just to make money.
He forced another bitter smile. He finally had to give up that seemingly naive ideal of helping Hong Kong movies dominate the world. Having regained his sense of reason, he knew it was impossible. This was a clash between Eastern and Western cultures, and no single person could decide the outcome of such a cultural battle.

The battles in the business world are always more cruel and intense than outsiders can imagine. Xiao Ran initially only wanted to support Hong Kong films, but unbeknownst to him, he indirectly destroyed New Art City and tore apart the Cathay Empire himself—this is the business world. Helping Hong Kong films rise meant he ended up becoming a key player himself, and everything turned out completely different from his original plans. If he couldn’t bring in new content, it would be difficult for him to compete with Hollywood using new approaches. Under his guidance, Hong Kong cinema gradually moved toward standardization and marketization, without him imposing any demands. So, in the future, he wouldn’t need to enforce anything either—the market would naturally lead people to follow in the footsteps of “Shadow.” He thought he should reposition “Shadow” not as a ruler, but as a guide and pioneer, offering an example for other companies to follow. History was now very different from before, at least in the film industry. Xiao Ran and Wei Dongling had to carefully explore every possible market, opportunity, and even system for Hong Kong films. Seeing Xiao Ran close his eyes in deep thought, Wei Dongling stopped pressing him. From Xiao Ran’s expression, he could tell Xiao Ran had understood—it would no longer be a problem troubling him. Suddenly, Xiao Ran opened his eyes and showed a familiar smile after a long time: “A Dong, what do you think the company should do next?” “It’s simple. I think we should expand into industrial businesses!” Wei Dongling shrugged. Any company, in the end, must pursue industrial development: “Film is ultimately a risky investment!” “No, you’re wrong!” Xiao Ran had indeed figured it out. Film was indeed a risky investment, but if used as a foundation to advance across the cultural sector, it wouldn’t be a problem: “Our goal is culture. Film can generate countless related benefits, and these are all things we can easily obtain!” Wei Dongling chuckled and glanced at Fa Ge and Hong Gu, who were listening quietly nearby. “I guessed you’d say that. In fact, it’s very advantageous for the company to develop comprehensively in the cultural sector now. The company already has considerable strength in publishing and the media industry. Combined, they form a powerful force.” Xiao Ran nodded. He hadn’t expected that the comic and publishing industries he had started out of a passion for film would become advantages today—showing just how unpredictable the future is. After thinking for a moment, he smiled lightly: “But the core businesses are still media and audiovisuals. Maybe we should call it the entertainment industry.” “I still think we shouldn’t neglect industrial businesses…” Wei Dongling was quite stubborn, but his stubbornness had some merit: “There’s not much room for expansion in the entertainment sector now. The company holds patents for products like karaoke and has over 10 billion in cash reserves. We might as well enter industries like real estate and infrastructure!” “That way, the company’s core businesses will get scattered!” Xiao Ran thought quietly. Specialization wasn’t necessarily bad, but it wasn’t quite suitable for “Shadow”: “It’s okay. The company is at a point where it’s time to expand into other industries! But we need a core industry.”

“Real estate or telecommunications!” Wei Dongling had long had plans in this area and immediately brought it up: “But I think it’s best not to make real estate the core business, otherwise the company will surely be easily affected by the market. Telecommunications is actually great; I think there’s huge potential for growth in this field. It’s just that the market isn’t open yet, so we need to consider other options.”
Telecommunications! Xiao Ran couldn’t help but chuckle. It was a good idea—telecommunications could definitely be linked to the entertainment industry in the future. He had considered the electronics industry, which was closely related to entertainment, but he knew nothing about it, and it could easily be included under the entertainment sector.
It seemed time to pay attention to the telecommunications market. By securing control of the mobile phone market ahead of time, they could develop a more sophisticated film industry in the future. Xiao Ran quickly envisioned the future he wanted, and realizing this, he smiled, thinking he might actually have some business talent.
He suddenly remembered that the biggest acquisition in Hong Kong’s history was CK Hutchison’s purchase of Hong Kong Telecom. He then recalled that Hong Kong only abolished Hong Kong Telecom’s international operations in 1995, ending its monopoly. British Telecommunications was forced to sell this company with annual revenues in the tens of billions.
Three days later, Xiao Ran returned home. After promising his parents he would have a child, he went back to his room. Inside, Lin Qingxia was waiting quietly for him. When Xiao Ran entered, he saw her sitting on the bed, looking as usual.
He couldn’t help but sigh and sat down beside her, gently holding her hand. “I was irritable that day. I’m sorry. As for having a child…”
“It’s okay. I just wanted my parents to be at ease!” Lin Qingxia smiled at him, speaking in a slightly stiff tone, “If you don’t want one, then let’s not have one!”
If she can treat me like this, why can’t I treat her the same way? Xiao Ran looked at his beloved wife and wanted to impulsively agree right away. But his reason told him that children were truly the most troublesome thing in the world. Making a movie was challenging, but it wouldn’t make one go gray-haired. But raising a child could cause enough stress to turn one gray.
Suddenly, he noticed her eyes were slightly swollen, probably from crying—hard to tell unless you looked closely. An indescribable emotion surged in him as he gently stroked her eyes, as if trying to erase all the sadness. “I’m sorry. I won’t do this again!”
Lin Qingxia suddenly felt like crying. At her age, women always wanted a child. She thought Xiao Ran might not understand—without a child, no matter how big the house or how many security guards there were, it would seem lifeless. But she didn’t want to upset him either, leaving her in a dilemma.
The family turmoil subsided, but the root of the problem remained unresolved. Xiao Ran had forgotten about it, busy working on a new racing movie, now renamed “The Legend of the Racing God.”
While the producers were busy preparing for the project, Xiao Ran was dealing with the media and casting actors. This time, he wanted trendy newcomers—very young actors who could give the movie a youthful vibe.

Meanwhile, Shuxiang was also selecting suitable cartoonists to create comics for this series. However, Xiao Ran hoped to release the movies first before developing related products like comics, aiming to maximize any commercial value.

After four or five years of development, Hong Kong’s film industry still wasn’t very mature, nor were its audiences. Yet, it was on the path to maturity. Xiao Ran believed that another five years would be enough to shape the audience’s viewing habits.

In fact, the results so far were quite good. According to the survey reports from the planning department, the popularity of various genres was gradually moving in the expected direction. Comedies were no longer the only mainstream genre, and boring farces struggled to attract audiences. Other companies also paid more attention to logic and coherence when making films. Even dull art films no longer had a small market; instead, they managed to cultivate a group of loyal fans who admired that style.

At the moment, Xiao Ran wasn’t thinking too much about these things. He was focusing on the candidates in the interviews. But to his frustration, after two days of interviews, he still hadn’t found the stylish young people he was looking for. The young people he wanted weren’t too old—around eighteen or nineteen would suffice. In this regard, Liu Hua and the others didn’t quite meet this standard.

When he flipped to the next sheet, he froze, staring in disbelief at the name on it—Kim Sung-woo! No way, was his first thought. If he remembered correctly, this guy should still be in school, and in Taiwan at that.

Kim Sung-woo’s first film in Hong Kong was likely “Modern Heroes.” In that movie, this good-looking young man appeared pure, untainted by the world. Xiao Ran still appreciated this actor and immediately signaled for the next candidate to come in.

When the person entered, Xiao Ran was slightly surprised. It was indeed Kim Sung-woo, but how had he ended up here? After taking a quick glance, he couldn’t help but smile. Kim Sung-woo still looked very young, even younger than in “Modern Heroes.” But wasn’t this exactly the person he wanted?

“Kim Sung-woo, right?” Xiao Ran shook his head helplessly. He had grown used to treating people he knew as strangers. “You filled out the form saying you’re from Taiwan and still in school. How did you end up here for an audition?”

Kim Sung-woo trembled nervously upon seeing Xiao Ran. Yes, he certainly recognized Xiao Ran, and he really liked Xiao Ran’s films, whether he acted in them, directed them, or wrote them. Seeing Xiao Ran shake his head, he became even more nervous. “I… I came to Hong Kong with my girlfriend. We saw your advertisement, so…”

“Enough! I get it!” Although there were a few other interviewers around, it was clearly Xiao Ran who held the final say. Though he had already decided to recruit Kim Sung-woo, he pretended to be interested and continued asking, “Can you drive? I mean, a car!”

The extremely good-looking Kim Sung-woo shook his head. Xiao Ran nodded. If he couldn’t drive, he could learn—it wasn’t that important. After thinking for a moment and deciding he had no more questions, he said to him, “Go ahead and do a bit of acting. Well, act out a scene where you’re arguing with someone. Give it a try.”

Kim Seong-mu quickly thought about it, recalling how he had argued with others. Only then did he look at Xiao Ran, who was smiling at the table, and, somewhat calmer, shouted a few times into the air. The gesture was quite funny, making everyone else laugh.
Xiao Ran also wanted to laugh, but he felt it was unnecessary to undermine Kim Seong-mu’s confidence. He nodded at his surroundings and said, “That’s it, he’s the lead actor!”