Chapter 373: Outstanding Achievements in the Film Industry
Wang Yung-ching laughed and said, "Haha, that's good. Come take a look first. According to our original plan, this supermarket will open at the end of January next year, just in time for the Lunar New Year shopping rush."
"Excellent," Yang Wendong nodded. "Once this first store is up and running, and we've gathered some experience, I'll move forward with launching stores in other cities. Mr. Wang, I hope your team is ready for that."
The "first-mover advantage" didn't only exist in the tech world—it applied in the service industry as well. When a brand or concept was introduced in a city for the first time and gave the locals genuine value, as long as the business didn't self-destruct, the market would stabilize in their favor.
Historically, supermarkets didn't become mainstream in Asia until the 1970s. But since Yang Wendong had brought them to Hong Kong nearly a decade earlier, it was hard to say whether local entrepreneurs in Taiwan and nearby areas would try to copy the model.
So the best approach was to strike first and seize the market before anyone else could react.
"No problem," Wang Yung-ching replied. "I'm really just lending my name. The actual management is handled by your people."
"Haha, true. But it's still proper that I keep you informed," Yang Wendong said with a laugh.
According to their agreement, Wang Yung-ching was merely a nominal partner. At this time, Taiwan didn't allow foreign investment in the service sector—only in manufacturing. So the supermarket's operations, management, and procurement were all under the control of Carrefour Hong Kong, with contractual agreements in place.
The arrangement only worked because Yang Wendong and Wang Yung-ching already had deep cooperation in other areas, which built enough trust for such hands-off participation.
"Alright, I'll follow your lead," Wang Yung-ching said. "By the way, Mr. Yang, my new factory just went into operation. Why don't we go take a look?"
"Sure," Yang Wendong agreed with a nod.
They soon arrived at Formosa Plastics' new factory. With an annual plastic production capacity of 1.2 million tons, it was already shaping up to be a major industrial complex.
"Mr. Wang, your plastic business just keeps growing. At this rate, you might become the world's next plastics king," Yang Wendong remarked with a smile.
Becoming a regional industrial king—whether in Hong Kong or Taiwan—was one thing. But becoming a global industry leader, even in a niche field like waste management, meant entering the realm of tycoons.
Wang Yung-ching laughed. "I owe it to your help over the past few years, Mr. Yang. Without it, I wouldn't have scaled up this quickly."
"It's been mutually beneficial," Yang Wendong said, nodding.
Although in the original timeline Wang Yung-ching had achieved success on his own, with Yang Wendong's support, the pace had accelerated considerably. It was entirely possible that his future accomplishments would even surpass those in the original history.
"That's good to hear," Wang Yung-ching continued. "Besides expanding capacity, I'm also planning to move upstream—into petroleum derivatives."
"Petroleum derivatives?" Yang Wendong raised an eyebrow. "Does Taiwan have the technology for that yet?"
"No problem on that front," Wang Yung-ching replied. "The government here recently signed an agreement with the U.S. Some American oil companies will be transferring older equipment. I'm planning to purchase part of that. It'll really help me reduce production costs."
"Will you need funding?" Yang Wendong asked.
"Yes, quite a bit," Wang Yung-ching admitted. "But the returns, if everything works out, will be excellent."
"Alright. I support your expansion," Yang Wendong said. "But I'll need a detailed breakdown of your investment plan and projected returns."
In places like Hong Kong or Taiwan, many businesses were forced to build out their own supply chains because they had to rely heavily on imports for components. That meant steep costs. To control expenses, they had to gradually integrate upstream.
It was the same logic he applied with his sticky note business. He used to import paper—but now produced his own, which significantly reduced costs.
Of course, raw materials still had to be imported, but the cost of raw inputs was always lower. There were also more sourcing options—scrap paper, pulp, and the like—so pricing was more flexible. And shipping those materials didn't require the same level of handling as finished goods.
"No problem. I'll have the documentation sent to you," Wang Yung-ching said with a grin.
"Mhm." Yang Wendong smiled and added, "At the rate you're expanding, Mr. Wang, pretty soon you'll have to buy your own oil fields."
"Haha, I wish!" Wang Yung-ching laughed, shaking his head. "That's too far out of reach. Oil is a politically sensitive business. Without strong political backing, it's best not to get involved."
"Exactly," Yang Wendong nodded.
Oil was a highly sensitive industry—it could breed trouble fast. Even many smaller countries found it hard to profit without inviting complications. For businessmen, it was a risky gamble.
That said, small-scale participation wasn't a big issue. After all, even Li Ka-shing had bought into Canadian oil companies in the original timeline and made significant profits. But to reach the level of ExxonMobil? Not a chance.
In the days that followed, Yang Wendong held talks with a few Taipei officials about potential commercial investment opportunities. As always, he was polite and open-minded in negotiations.
But nothing concrete came of it. At the moment, his business empire still had immense room to grow in Hong Kong. His investments in Taiwan were mostly for diversification and to bypass certain trade barriers.
In the short term, his industrial focus would remain in Hong Kong—that was where his greatest advantage lay. Taiwan might only become a serious consideration in the late '60s, once the local electronics industry matured.
After spending a few relaxing days in Taiwan, Yang Wendong returned to Hong Kong on December 26th.
By now, the year was drawing to a close, and Hong Kong's film industry was coming back to life. On December 27th, Zou Wenhuai arrived at Changxing Tower to report the film division's progress over the past half year.
"Come in, have a seat," Yang Wendong said.
"Thank you, Mr. Yang." Zou Wenhuai sat down, and an assistant brought over coffee. Then he took out a file folder and said, "Mr. Yang, here's a summary of Changxing Film Company's performance over the past few months.
This includes the film version of The Return of the Condor Heroes, which grossed 760,000 HKD. It didn't perform as well as The Legend of the Condor Heroes, but still respectable. We also released three original films—written and produced in-house. Their box office earnings were 330,000, 170,000, and 290,000 HKD respectively."
"Mhm, that adds up to over 1 million," Yang Wendong said as he skimmed through the documents. "What about out-of-region distribution?"
"We made some overseas sales as well," Zou Wenhuai replied. "Since Legend of the Condor Heroes did well in Southeast Asia, our other films were easier to sell to foreign distributors.
The details are on the second page. Total overseas revenue for the company currently stands at 660,000 HKD."
"Mhm, and what were the production costs for those films?" Yang Wendong followed up.
Zou Wenhuai replied, "Tseung Kwan O Film City is still under construction, so the sets for these films were either rented or built from scratch. The total cost for the four movies came to 620,000 HKD.
After factoring in internal revenue splits from our own cinema chain, our self-produced films made a profit of about 50,000 HKD domestically. All overseas sales were pure profit."
Even though both the film studio and the cinema chain belonged to Yang Wendong's business empire, their finances were kept separate.
A little internal favoritism wasn't an issue, but if they started excluding external films altogether, it would create a negative public perception.
"No wonder the film profits looked so impressive," Yang Wendong smiled. "If the overseas market is pure profit, the numbers are definitely more attractive."
Zou Wenhuai explained, "Mr. Yang, that's also because our film company has strong resources, and the quality of the films is solid. That's why we've done well overseas. Most Hong Kong studios can't sell their films abroad—or at best, for a few thousand dollars."
"That's the same in any industry," Yang Wendong nodded. "Manufacturing works the same way. So what about our cinema chain?"
Zou Wenhuai replied, "The cinema chain operates independently from the film company. In the past six months, it generated 4.62 million HKD in revenue, with a net profit of around 900,000 HKD. That figure doesn't include real estate appreciation."
"Mhm, we should count only the operational income," Yang Wendong said with a nod. "It looks like cinemas are even more profitable than the film company."
"Yes," Zou Wenhuai said. "That's the case globally. When a film studio gets a breakout hit, profits can be huge for that year. But one or two mediocre or loss-making films can make the numbers look terrible.
Cinema chains, on the other hand, are much more stable. Rain or shine, people still go to the movies. In fact, during economic downturns, moviegoers often increase."
"That really is a great business," Yang Wendong said with a smile. "Since you're now in charge of the cinema division, keep working closely with Changxing Real Estate. Let's plan to expand our cinema locations.
You don't have to buy properties immediately—just scout out good locations and start negotiating. My goal is to control over 70% of Hong Kong's cinema market within the next five years."
From a capital investment standpoint, film revenues were too volatile and uncertain to be considered high-quality assets. Early on, even HSBC refused to do business with movie studios. But cinemas were different. Even if the Hong Kong film industry collapsed, there would still be foreign films to show.
Although Changxing Film Company was doing its best to produce high-quality content, building a strong, consistent lineup took years of experience and audience cultivation. Success was uncertain.
But cinema expansion was a simpler, more controllable play. Many future commercial zones in Hong Kong were only just beginning to develop. Now was the best time to stake a claim.
And in just over a year, the real estate crisis would hit. When that time came, it would be the perfect moment to acquire supermarkets, cinemas, and other commercial properties.
"Seventy percent?" Zou Wenhuai was ecstatic. "Understood, Mr. Yang. With that kind of share, our film company will dominate Hong Kong."
"No," Yang Wendong shook his head. "I don't want domination. Remember this: our cinema business must always operate independently. It should never serve only our own films. We must ensure fair competition for all other studios.
What I want to see is a competitive Hong Kong film market. Only then can our films go international and make serious money overseas."
Every product needed competition to thrive. Without it, decline was inevitable. In Yang Wendong's past life, TVB dominated the television scene in the 1990s and early 2000s. Before that, even ATV had hits like My Date with a Vampire.
But once ATV declined, TVB lost its edge. Their shows became uninspired and unwatchable.
The same applied to films. The reason Hong Kong's film industry had been so successful in the 1980s was because there had been enough competition to push everyone to improve.
"Understood, Mr. Yang," Zou Wenhuai nodded.
His boss's industrial empire in Hong Kong was probably second only to century-old giants like HSBC or Jardine Matheson. A mere monopoly of the local film market, worth maybe ten million HKD annually, was meaningless in the grand scheme of things.
The real goal was for Hong Kong cinema to go global—to become as widespread and influential as Hollywood. Only then would the market grow tenfold or even a hundredfold. That was what Yang Wendong was aiming for.
After reading through the documents, Yang Wendong returned them and asked, "So what's the plan for next year?"
Zou Wenhuai replied, "Our main focus will still be on martial arts films. I'm thinking of adapting some of Gu Long's novels. His stories blend action with mystery and are generally shorter in length, which makes them more suitable for film than Jin Yong's longer works.
I'm also considering adapting stories from Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, but I haven't decided which ones yet."
"Martial arts films are fine," Yang Wendong nodded. "As for Strange Tales, are you aiming for horror, or the romantic scholar genre?"
"Mostly the romantic ones," Zou Wenhuai replied. "Horror films are too niche—better suited for small studios. It's not worth our effort, since the market is too small."
"Alright. There are some good stories in Strange Tales," Yang Wendong smiled.
They were written by scholars, with themselves as the main characters. Of course the stories were entertaining.
Zou Wenhuai continued, "Aside from that, Changxing Culture is also preparing to produce films for Black Cat Detective and Nezha Conquers the Dragon King. Black Cat Detective will be released during the Lunar New Year. We'll be working closely with them on that. There's a lot of technical knowledge from our side that they'll need."
"Alright. Make sure your team cooperates well with them," Yang Wendong said. "Comic-based films transcend race and culture—they're easier to promote abroad. If those do well, it'll also pave the way for your team to distribute original films overseas."
Even at the height of Hong Kong cinema in the '80s and '90s, most films in Southeast Asia were only watched by local Chinese communities. Only a few breakout hits—like Bruce Lee's—attracted native audiences.
And that was completely normal. Even at the height of Marvel's popularity, only a portion of China's population watched superhero films.
But animated characters were different. If written well, children everywhere loved them. They didn't have the same cultural filters. In his past life, nearly every kid born in the '80s or '90s in mainland China grew up watching Japanese anime. And even as late as 2020, children's favorite character was still Ultraman.
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