Chapter 83: Tenfold Profit

“Boss Xiao, this is your first time discussing something like this, right?” Lin Guiyun smiled gently. He and Xiao Ran had known each other before. Now, he only regretted not seizing the opportunity before filming began. “Why not just talk about the price directly?”
Xiao Ran laughed heartily. Talking about the price directly wasn’t what he wanted. What he really wanted was a guaranteed share of the profits. Currently, the Southeast Asian film market relied heavily on Hong Kong films, so Hong Kong-produced movies were very popular.
“It’s simple. I’ve done some preliminary research,” Xiao Ran said, glancing around again. “Here are the box office results for ordinary Hong Kong films in Taiwan, Singapore, and South Korea.”
Everyone was slightly surprised when Xiao Ran handed out several sheets of data. They hadn’t expected him to put so much effort into preparing for this negotiation. Xiao Ran rubbed his nose and chuckled. “As for the price, as you all know, but today I don’t plan to follow the usual rules!”
“What do you mean?” Lin Guiyun asked tentatively, unable to think of any other alternatives.
“I originally wanted to propose another plan, but after thinking it over, I don’t think you’d accept it!” Xiao Ran had intended to suggest a profit-sharing agreement, but remembering that Hollywood also sold release rights directly, he immediately decided to abandon that idea. “So, let’s stick to the rules!”
“Taiwan: 15 million. Malaysia, the Philippines, and Singapore: 24 million. South Korea: 20 million!” Xiao Ran had done some research. Usually, film distributors also had to share profits with theater chains. Based on this, they estimated they could spend about 30% of the total box office revenue on purchasing these films.
This figure was quite appropriate. Initially, Xiao Ran wanted to offer them a discount on their first purchase to establish long-term cooperation. But upon further thought, a discount might not be beneficial. It was better to be firm and have them all pay this price. That way, driven by profit, they would naturally put more effort into promotion.
Most importantly, Xiao Ran said with an air of pride, “I won’t push bad movies on you like other companies do, nor will I bundle them together for sale. The Phantom Company will never sell you bad movies. Everyone needs to make a profit so that the market can function smoothly!”
Besides buying individual films, distributors had another way of purchasing: a good movie paired with N bad movies without famous stars that couldn’t generate box office sales, forcing distributors to buy them. In such cases, distributors made no profit and naturally became more cautious, gradually stopping purchases of Hong Kong films.
Therefore, Xiao Ran believed that film markets in various regions relied on local distributors to promote Hong Kong films, and it was the distributors who had to drive their popularity. So, distributors must be able to make a profit from Hong Kong films; otherwise, they wouldn’t actively promote them. Since Xiao Ran needed distributors to help Hong Kong films penetrate other regions and countries, there were certain things he absolutely couldn’t do.

Lin Guiyun and the others weren’t very surprised, as the price fell right within their acceptable range. However, Xiao Ran didn’t realize that even if he raised the price a bit more, these film distributors would still buy them, because aside from Hong Kong movies, Hollywood films had little market in these places—there was essentially no other choice. Even if he had known this, Xiao Ran wouldn’t have raised the price; it was just right for both sides to make sufficient profits. Raising it further might have upset them. Still, the distributors united to try to negotiate lower prices: “Can it be lower?” “There’s no way!” Xiao Ran’s expression turned serious as he tapped his fingers on the table repeatedly. “This price ensures sufficient profits for us all. Any reduction would mean more losses for me. Either I don’t sell at all, or I sell at the right price.” The price was quickly agreed upon, as everyone was aware of the market situation and there wasn’t much room for negotiation. But Lin Guiyun quickly brought up something Xiao Ran had been considering: “Boss Xiao, why don’t we sign the contract now? In the future, your company can also supply us with movies.” Xiao Ran understood their concern—there were many competitors, and they feared he might sell movies to others. He laughed heartily, but his mind was racing: Should he sign a long-term contract? If not, he would have enough flexibility to handle any situation. If he signed, he could ask these distributors to promote Phantom Company to some extent, ensuring long-term partners who would focus on making money for Phantom Company. He decided instantly and smiled happily, “Let’s sign it—no problem!” As per the terms, the contract wasn’t as bad as imagined. It only required Phantom Company to sell movies to them within the specified time frame, not to other companies. Of course, if the price couldn’t be agreed upon, Phantom Company could sell the movies to others. The distributors had no objections to this. For Phantom Company, the advantage was having fixed distributors, ensuring sales and also allowing them to promote themselves and their artists. But this was just Xiao Ran’s temporary solution—the contract was only signed for 1987, with better cooperation methods planned in the future. “It’s so profitable!” Wei Dongling couldn’t help but exclaim in astonishment upon hearing about Xiao Ran’s achievements. “I never thought a movie could be sold for nearly sixty million just by reselling it. No wonder everyone is eager to get involved in the film industry!” It was only fifty-nine million, but Xiao Ran secretly chuckled. Thinking that a Hollywood blockbuster costing hundreds of millions could recoup its investment solely from overseas markets, leaving even more profit, he realized just how huge this film market was. Yet, even Xiao Ran was surprised—no wonder film companies, present and future, were going crazy making movies. Just selling an ordinary movie abroad could yield several times the profit, which was terrifying and explained why people were so obsessed with it.

Don’t think that Xiao Ran simply divided the local box office revenue and overseas earnings among Fang Ruohai—he still had to deduct all expenses related to the film. Even so, the figure was terrifying; just “The God of Gamblers” alone earned over 80 million. Xiao Ran couldn’t help but curse, “This is damn more profitable than robbing a bank!”

Anyway, this was Dream Company’s first big profit. Although over 50 million had to be given to Fang Ruohai, it was still an impressive achievement. The thought of over 50 million disappearing so easily left Xiao Ran so depressed that he felt like he might turn into a chimney.

But no one was to blame but himself—for choosing the wrong partnership method from the start. If he had established a company first before seeking film investments, at least most of those 80 million would have gone into his pocket.

The current outcome was still barely acceptable—at least 20 million could still be made. Extremely depressed, Xiao Ran tried to distract himself by thinking about the distribution of video tapes. Since “The God of Gamblers” had been released, this issue had to be addressed.

He asked Wei Dongling for his opinion. Wei Dongling’s idea was simple: “If you want convenience, you can sell the rights to produce and distribute the video tapes to others. If you want to do it yourself, you’ll need to invest in setting up a factory. But the problem is, we don’t have a distribution network!”

Xiao Ran was speechless—this issue indeed stumped him. He could choose to sell the rights to produce and distribute the video tapes to other companies, but then he wouldn’t be able to establish his own distribution network. On the other hand, if he tried to do it himself, he lacked the necessary connections.

Frowning deeply and thinking for a long time, Xiao Ran drank countless cups of water. He realized that giving the rights to others wasn’t a solution—it was better to handle it himself, as he must keep control of the distribution channels at all costs.

Actually, local distribution wasn’t very difficult—just needing to resolve some channel issues would suffice. No one would refuse such a film. Even distribution in Southeast Asia wouldn’t be a problem. The key was that Xiao Ran also wanted to secure distribution channels in Europe and the Americas—not just for video tapes but also for the theatrical rights. In Hong Kong, only Cathay-Keris held these rights.

There might also be Shaw Brothers. Shaw Brothers’ 1973 film “The World’s Greatest Fighter” was a success in the U.S., ranking ninth among the top 10 highest-grossing films of the year. They also collaborated extensively with Japan and later invested in a British company’s “Seven Golden Corpses,” investing 60 million in “Big Boss” in 1976. In 1978, they invested 16 million in “Earthquake,” and in 1982, they invested in the Hollywood classic “Blade Runner.” Yet none of these films made Shaw Brothers any money, leaving them disheartened.

Cathay-Keris, on the other hand, took advantage of Bruce Lee’s popularity to successfully enter the European and American markets. Starting in 1980, they began systematically exporting films to Europe and America, including Cheng Long’s “The Killer Trench” and “Cannonball Run,” which brought them hundreds of millions in profits. By 1990, Cathay-Keris acquired the rights to “The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” which became one of the most popular films in the U.S. that year, generating profits of over a billion.

But Xiao Ran didn’t think Jiahe would help Shadow Company promote these films—after all, competitors were enemies! Even Shaw Brothers, which had stopped production, had no reason to give them access, leaving him in a terrible dilemma. Besides, Shaw Brothers was only “dead in name”; it would soon be reborn under a new shell.
Sighing deeply, he still said to Wei Dongling, “I’ll do it myself. At least I can’t rely on others!”
A few days later, Liang Jiahui got married to Jiang Jianian, a radio producer at TVB. Fortunately, unlike in history, Liang Jiahui didn’t end up with only 8,000 in his possession at marriage. He was very grateful to Xiao Ran—had it not been for Xiao Ran’s encouragement during his darkest days and the opportunity to write scripts together, he probably wouldn’t have returned to the film industry at all.
On his wedding day, Liang Jiahui invited only a few friends, making it a simple ceremony. Xiao Ran completely forgot his own status and caused so much chaos that Liang Jiahui was left at a loss whether to laugh or cry.
While Liang Jiahui and Jiang Jianian were on their honeymoon, Fa Ge and Chen Huilian also announced their marriages. Fa Ge had previously told Xiao Ran, worriedly, that if possible, he would prefer a simple wedding like Liang Jiahui’s.
But Fa Ge couldn’t—after all, he was the most popular actor in Hong Kong and loved making friends. As a result, even if he tried to keep the wedding low-key, it still turned out to be much bigger than usual. Still, he did his best to keep it modest.
Indeed, history was changing. Fa Ge and Liang Jiahui were originally supposed to get married in March or April, but it was postponed to May—proof of this change. Yet Xiao Ran didn’t really care about these historical changes. At least he knew he had built a solid foundation, and he couldn’t rely on plagiarism moving forward.
But now that Fa Ge and Liang Jiahui were married, perhaps it wasn’t long before Xiao Ran and Fang Ruoxin got married too…
It was time! Time to arrange their weddings! Fang Ruohai grew more anxious as the date neared. Though he and his elder brother didn’t get along, they both loved their sister dearly. Neither wanted her to lose happiness under their father’s arrangements, just like they had.
Calling Xiao Ran and Fang Ruoxin over, Fang Ruohai smiled in relief at Xiao Ran’s confused expression and Fang Ruoxin’s faint smirk. After thinking for a while, he brought up the urgent matter: “A Ran, you two… get married!”
“Get married?” Xiao Ran’s jaw almost dropped in shock. He was only in his twenties—marriage wasn’t something urgent at all. Moreover, he had never considered marriage as a serious matter from the start. His mindset was more aligned with the 21st century than the present.
Seeing Xiao Ran’s reluctant expression, Fang Ruohai’s face darkened. He couldn’t believe it—was Xiao Ran really just playing around with Ruoxin? Fang Ruoxin hadn’t expected this at all. With a cold look, she stamped her high heels on Xiao Ran’s feet, making him cry out in pain. “What, is it so shameful to marry you? If you want to marry me, I’m not willing!”
In a fit of anger, she stormed upstairs. Xiao Ran looked at Fang Ruohai with a pained expression, while Fang Ruohai’s face was grim, and he said sternly, “You’re not playing around with my sister, are you? Marry her or not—decide for yourself!”

Seeing the strange expressions on Brother and Sister Fang’s faces, Xiao Ran was stunned. There really was such a thing as forced marriage in this world. Could it be that Fang Ruoxin truly couldn’t find a husband? Was it necessary to force him to marry her? He shook his head, the word “marriage” still lingering in his mind.
He didn’t think he was playing with Fang Ruoxin, at least that’s what he believed. But he had never thought about getting married so early. Come on, getting married before the age of thirty—what kind of thing is that? Yet now he was also helpless…
*****
Starting today, updates will be posted every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. Sorry, sorry—I really can only say this much to my fellow readers.