Chapter 1020: Great Disappointment

Surprises, naturally, there were none.

Many people are often mythologized, thought to be this or that, but in reality, people are just people—how much mythology can there be?

Take Mr. Zhou’s works, for instance. From elementary to high school, reading comprehension exercises try to squeeze out all sorts of meanings, even turning a tree in front of his house into some profound symbol.

Please, the old man might have just written it casually. Great wise ones, could you please use your brains?

Zhou Xingxing naturally couldn’t bring any surprises to Zhao Fusheng either. Their meeting was actually quite plain.

After exchanging a few polite pleasantries and stating their identities, Zhang Guorong’s name was inevitably brought up, as he was the only connection between them.

"Brother mentioned you several times, saying Mr. Zhao has helped him a lot." It was clear that Zhou Xingxing respected Zhang Guorong deeply, not just out of politeness but genuinely from the heart.

Zhao Fusheng smiled upon hearing this: "You flatter me. You know Brother—he always makes a big deal out of small favors."

Zhou Xingxing chuckled, his smile growing even warmer.

In fact, Zhao Fusheng didn’t know that Zhang Guorong had not only praised Zhao Fusheng highly in front of Zhou Xingxing but also revealed his identity as a screenwriter and top-tier planner.

Otherwise, given Zhou Xingxing’s personality, even if Zhao were Zhang Guorong’s friend, he wouldn’t have treated him with such caution.

Zhou Xingxing had always kept a clear line between public and private matters, never mixing business with personal affairs.

He respected Zhang Guorong, true, because Zhang had helped him before, but when it came to his own interests, Zhou Xingxing could discard even a long-term girlfriend like a worn-out shoe, let alone Zhao Fusheng.

So the biggest reason Zhao Fusheng could sit here today was actually his own identity.

But Zhou Xingxing didn’t say this, and Zhao Fusheng naturally wouldn’t point it out.

Businessmen, after all, rely on strength and act with skill—the game is about who is more hypocritical.

"They say heroes emerge from youth. To be honest, I didn’t expect Mr. Zhao to be so young," Zhou Xingxing said with a smile.

This was the truth. When Zhang Guorong had mentioned him before, Zhou Xingxing thought Zhao Fusheng was at least in his thirties, if not forty. He never expected the guy to be just over twenty.

"I was just lucky to end up where I am now," Zhao Fusheng said with a smile. "Mr. Zhou, no need to be so formal. Just call me by my name."

Becoming friends with this guy was probably out of the question. Zhou Xingxing had too peculiar a personality; most people couldn’t stand him. And Zhao Fusheng had no desire to turn a fan into a friend. Some people are better appreciated on screen.

"Alright, I’ll call you Ah Sheng," Zhou Xingxing said, readily going along. Calling a man in his forties a brother to a twenty-something like Zhao Fusheng would have been awkward for him.

Calling him Ah Sheng was just right.

"Then I’ll call you Brother Xing," Zhao Fusheng replied with a smile.

In business relationships, getting a bit closer never hurt. Everyone was all smiles to your face and cursing behind your back anyway. When it came to their own interests, they wouldn’t give an inch, so superficial brotherhood didn’t matter.

In fact, Zhao Fusheng could understand Zhou Xingxing. If he were in the same position, having worked hard to reach his current status and wealth, he might act the same way.

That is, if he hadn’t had his past life experience.

To borrow a line from Old Master Bai in "The Grand Mansion Gate": "It was so hard for me to advance; why should I retreat?"

The same logic applies in the entertainment industry and many other environments. If you take one step back, the price is being pushed down and devoured by countless wolves until nothing is left—bones and all.

Thus, the kind-hearted cannot lead troops, and the righteous cannot manage wealth. In business competition and cooperation, if you can’t separate public from private, failure is inevitable.

That’s why neither Tan Kaixuan in his past life nor Zhao Fusheng now ever thought of asking the other for help.

Consider that Tan Kaixuan now controlled tens of millions of US dollars, plus the capital from private equity. If Zhao Fusheng asked, he could bring in a large sum of money.

But could Zhao Fusheng ask?

The answer was obvious.

…

…

After the pleasantries, it was time to get down to business. Neither Zhou Xingxing nor Zhao Fusheng was the type to let personal matters interfere with work.

"Ah Sheng, I heard you wrote this script?"

Zhou Xingxing got straight to the point, asking Zhao Fusheng directly. In fact, he was quite interested in this matter, since Zhang Guorong had told him that Zhao Fusheng was the one who wrote "Infernal Affairs."

In Hong Kong, although screenwriters were generally undervalued, people knew the impact a good script could have on a film. They liked to rewrite scripts, but Hong Kong actually valued behind-the-scenes work a bit more than the mainland.

"Yes, I wrote it." Zhao Fusheng admitted frankly.

On one hand, this was one of the opportunities to impress Stephen Chow; on the other hand, he also hoped Stephen would understand that he wasn't joking and was approaching the collaboration with sincerity.

"Then I'll have to take a good look." Stephen Chow said with a smile, clearly somewhat looking forward to the script.

Zhao Fusheng smiled but didn't say anything further.

This surprised Stephen a little; originally, he thought Zhao Fusheng might seize the chance to introduce the film's plot.

But this guy actually played the silent game.

Seeing Stephen's expression, Zhao Fusheng chuckled inwardly. He wasn't really young; if Stephen wanted to play a game of patience with him, Zhao Fusheng didn't mind at all.

It was just a contest to see who was more anxious.

For Zhao Fusheng, although he was eager to get Future Films out of trouble, Stephen might not know that, and Zhao Fusheng had plenty of patience. At worst, he could inject his own money to keep Future Films afloat.

No matter what you do, being anxious won't solve the problem; waiting patiently is more likely to lead to success.

Stephen looked at Zhao Fusheng's calm expression and was slightly surprised. He had thought that because Zhao Fusheng was young, he might be more eager, like most investors, desperately seeking his approval.

But unexpectedly, this young man was more composed than he had anticipated.

At times, Stephen even had the illusion that this young man seemed to be looking down on him from above.

It was a feeling, not that Zhao Fusheng's attitude was bad, but a sensation—an intuition Stephen had developed over years in the entertainment industry.

Since Zhao Fusheng didn't speak, Stephen naturally didn't ask. So they started chatting idly, both being shrewd, neither easily revealing their bottom line.

Fortunately, the staff worked efficiently. Lin Darong must have finished reading the script and soon sent word back.

"Kung Fu Hustle?"

Hearing the news from his subordinates, Stephen was indeed surprised.

He had thought Zhao Fusheng would bring a comedy, but now it seemed that wasn't the case.

Frowning slightly, Stephen looked at Zhao Fusheng: "Fusheng, what's the main content of this film?"

This question was crucial. Every film has its theme; even Stephen's slapstick comedies, upon closer examination, contain some philosophy.

Especially now, when Stephen had reached the status of a grandmaster in comedy films, he wanted his movies to stand out from ordinary ones.

In simple terms, once a person reaches a certain level, they naturally develop a pursuit of fame and fortune.

Many later generations didn't understand why Jack Ma made that inexplicable film "Gong Shou Dao." Actually, Zhao Fusheng could understand him. What's the purpose of making money? Naturally, to make oneself happy. For Jack Ma, at his level, money was just a number most of the time.

In other words, how to use money to make oneself happy was the most important thing.

Hence, that seemingly ridiculous film came into being.

Content wasn't important; having fun was. That was probably his mindset.

Stephen was now in a similar state. In the realm of comedy films, even if he wasn't without successors, he had indeed achieved what no one had before.

That is, the audience was used to his humor and slapstick, but the problem was that Stephen wasn't the type to rest on his laurels.

He craved innovation, craved greater success.

He even craved surpassing his past achievements.

But unfortunately, his films in recent years hadn't reached that level. He had thought Zhao Fusheng might bring something new, but unexpectedly, he came up with a martial arts film.

"As for the content, it should be about kung fu." Zhao Fusheng smiled and said to Stephen, "To be honest, Brother Sing, I think you should read the script first before discussing this with me."

This was his true feeling. Fundamentally, "Kung Fu Hustle" was just average; Zhao Fusheng always felt that the most appealing part of the film was Stephen's performance.

"The script?"

Stephen was momentarily stunned, then instructed his assistant, "Bring me the script."

The assistant didn't dare delay and quickly brought the script.

Without further ado, Stephen opened the script and began reading in front of Zhao Fusheng.

A script wasn't very long, and Stephen was experienced at reading scripts, focusing on the key points. He finished it quickly.

After a moment, Stephen looked up, and his gaze toward Zhao Fusheng had changed.