Chapter 1277 The Record Industry

On the way back, Jiang Wen kept looking at Zhao Fusheng with a suspicious gaze.

"What are you looking at?"

Zhao Fusheng, holding the sleeping Fan Beibei in his arms, glared at Old Jiang and asked.

Ever since they got in the car, this guy had been staring at him with a strange expression, as if there was something on him. If not for Beibei being there, Zhao Fusheng swore he would knock him on the head.

Hearing Zhao Fusheng's words, Jiang Wen chuckled and blinked. "Was today's scene really not something you arranged in advance?"

He truly couldn't believe it; today's events were simply too miraculous.

First, Li Xiaoran and Sun Beihe showed up to bully Fan Beibei, then Cao Jianguo and Tian Ye appeared, giving the Beijing circle a real scare. Most importantly, it intimidated people like Zhao Baogang, making them understand that the future of film and television was not something they could covet or shake. Cooperation was fine, but they shouldn't think about using underhanded tactics.

But Jiang Wen thought carefully and felt that Zhao Fusheng wouldn't use a child like Fan Beibei, especially since she was his sister-in-law.

He had seen with his own eyes how much Zhao Fusheng doted on that girl.

So now Jiang Wen was a bit puzzled—what exactly was going on?

Hearing Old Jiang's words, Zhao Fusheng frowned. "How would I know? Why would I arrange something like that?"

Then he said irritably, "No matter how bored I am, I wouldn't use our Beibei as bait."

Jiang Wen nodded at that. He was certain of this: Zhao Fusheng truly cherished Fan Beibei to the bone. Under such circumstances, he might believe Zhao Fusheng used someone else as bait, but not Fan Beibei.

"Alright, stop overthinking." Zhao Fusheng glanced at Jiang Wen and said calmly, "I don't have that many thoughts about the film and TV circle. To be honest, no matter how loudly these people shout now, once more investment pours in, believe me, the mainland film and TV circle won't be any different from Hong Kong's."

Jiang Wen was startled, looking at Zhao Fusheng in surprise. He hadn't expected him to think that way.

Zhao Fusheng shrugged and said no more. He believed Jiang Wen would understand his meaning.

What was the beginning of the decline of Hong Kong cinema back then?

At the root of it, wasn't it because the narrow-minded thinking and short-sighted vision of Hong Kong filmmakers pushed the biggest box-office market, Taiwan, into the arms of Southeast Asia and Hollywood? Coupled with the mainland's increasingly strict restrictions on shoddy Hong Kong films and co-productions, they could no longer make a living.

The most obvious example was when Old Jiang made "In the Heat of the Sun" back then—didn't he cheat Yang Shoucheng under the guise of a co-production?

The reason was simple: on one hand, Old Jiang really needed money; on the other, the mainland had few restrictions on co-productions and relatively lenient censorship.

Capital, no matter when or where, is the fertile ground for a thriving film market.

Content is king, that's true, because good content can attract audiences to the greatest extent. But without the push of capital, everything is just empty talk.

Whether it's talent or good scripts, in fact, without money, how can you make movies or TV series?

By talking or by using your face?

Or by wielding a pen?

In Zhao Fusheng's memory, the domestic film and TV production industry would usher in a period of rapid development, and starting from 2010, it would enter an era of massive capital influx. At its most terrifying, capital could manipulate the rise and fall of the stock market through a single movie or TV series.

As for what happened after that, there's no need to mention it.

On the surface, it was Third Master and Huayi fighting, pushing Mr. Cui out as the scapegoat. But who couldn't see that the higher-ups were dissatisfied with certain behaviors of capital and intended to give a warning?

So whether it was Water Liangliang or those summoned for talks, they were actually telling the capital behind them: the boss is unhappy, so all of you, settle down.

You can treat shareholders as leeks, but you cannot treat the state as if it doesn't exist.

...

...

"Don't think about all that nonsense. What do you think—should we set up a record management company?" Zhao Fusheng thought for a moment and said to Jiang Wen.

The reason he brought this up was that just now at the restaurant, he saw a group of kids holding posters with images of idols from Korea, reminding him that this seemed to be the era of the Korean Wave.

Speaking of the Korean Wave, this term originated from Go and later came to refer to the influence of Korean culture in other regions. Broadly defined, the Korean Wave includes Korean fashion, food, etc.; narrowly defined, it usually refers to the regional influence of Korean entertainment such as TV dramas, movies, and music. The term "Korean Wave" was first coined by the Chinese media and later widely used by Korean media and academia to refer to the export of their cultural industry. The Korean Wave phenomenon is prevalent in many Asian countries and is gradually developing in regions outside Asia.

Korean versatile diva Lee Jung-hyun was the first to introduce the Korean Wave to China, causing a sensation, followed by the Korean TV series "What Is Love" airing in China. As Korean singers appeared on Chinese stages, names of Korean pop groups like "H.O.T.," "NRG," and "TVXQ" spread among Chinese youth, sparking interest and attention in Korean film and TV stars and singers, forming a craze for Korean pop songs, TV dramas, and Korean film and TV stars.

Some Chinese newspapers and magazines called this phenomenon the Korean Wave, and Korean media adopted the term. The Korean Wave seemed to surge ever stronger, spreading to countries and regions like Vietnam, Mongolia, and Hong Kong. The Korean Wave rolled on, its content continuously expanding and diversifying. Some young people, from liking Korean TV dramas, listening to Korean pop songs, and idolizing stars, went on to pursue Korean products, such as Korean cosmetics, wedding dresses, Korean pizza houses, Korean drama costumes, and even Korean used cars, English teaching materials for children, and educational toys.

At the same time, the drama "Dae Jang Geum" brought Korean cuisine to our side; Korean barbecue and kimchi gradually entered our dining tables. Some young people, to chase stars, even traveled to Korea to experience the cultural atmosphere and fun of the Korean Wave's birthplace and meet their idols. However, some in Korea's cultural and economic circles doubted how long the Korean Wave could last. They believed the Korean Wave was merely a phenomenon among teenagers, who had no income and limited financial means. Additionally, they worried that the Chinese government might impose restrictions on the excessive influx of Korean pop culture and feared that the Korean cultural industry couldn't produce enough appealing works to sustain the Korean Wave's momentum, ultimately leading to a flash in the pan.

But in fact, Zhao Fusheng knew that before China's "Korean Entertainment Ban" was implemented, the Korean Wave had always developed well in China. Generation after generation of Korean idols and actors came to China to make money, and some even directly shouted the slogan, "If you have no money, go to China."

What's more, acts of disrespect toward China in the Korean entertainment industry occurred repeatedly, yet there were always some brainless fans defending their favorite stars, saying things like "art has no borders" or "my idolizing has nothing to do with the country." Even some public figures didn't mind their behavior, such as that idiot host who knelt before a Korean artist—needless to say more.

They even invited Korean artists to perform at the Spring Festival Gala, on the grounds that they were popular in China.

Sometimes, it's no wonder others look down on us—because some among us truly have no dignity.

Now, Zhao Fusheng thought simply: if Koreans could come to China to make money, why couldn't he go and make money from them? After all, running a management company in Korea was very profitable.

Moreover, Korea now loved cultural exports, pushing their idols and TV dramas abroad. In Zhao Fusheng's view, he could also make this money.

Find a Korean entertainment company to acquire, then cultivate a batch of stars—whether it's Girls' Generation, second-generation girl groups, or third-generation girl groups, take them all in. This kind of low-investment, quick-return product was something Zhao Fusheng was very willing to do. Even if they didn't become top-tier girl groups, even second- or third-tier groups could make money through commercial performances. Once team members got older and couldn't attract fans, quickly eliminate them and continue building the next group.

So-called idol singers, after the millennium, had become a true commodity, especially for those otaku boys and girls who were utterly captivated.

Large numbers, many skills, all kinds available—simply put, there's always one that suits you.

Under such circumstances, the money in fans' wallets would flow like water into his own pocket.

Just thinking about it made Zhao Fusheng feel delighted.

The principles of this world are never simply black and white.

The ass determines the head. Whether it's the water route or the land route often depends on whether the person in need is a base or a chicken.

At this moment, Jiang Wen looked completely bewildered. "Why start a record company? The domestic environment is really bad."

He was telling the truth. Since the popularization of cassettes, China's record industry had become increasingly difficult. Endless pirated methods had toppled once-glorious record singers from their pedestals.

In the past, sales of millions were common; now, even a hundred thousand was hard to achieve.

Consequently, the entire industry declined. Niche singers like rock and campus folk artists struggled even more. Unless they were well-off like Ai Dajian or Wang Bancheng, most singers were barely getting by.

And at this time, Zhao Fusheng actually wanted to enter the record industry?

Old Jiang felt he must be an upright friend, steadfastly dissuading Zhao Fusheng from making a wrong decision.