Chapter 409: Southeast Asian Theater Opportunities and Strategic Planning
"Little Ding-Dang? It does roll off the tongue," Zhang Zhiyuan said with a smile after hearing the name.
Yang Wendong followed up, "The Little Ding-Dang manga has three main tasks. First, today I've only described the robot cat itself—you'll need to create all the supporting characters, including their personalities, families, relationships, and so on.
Second, you need to design all the characters, including Little Ding-Dang. This will be the artistic foundation of our entire manga.
Third, choose a suitable suburban town as the primary setting, and fully illustrate it. This part is extremely important, because in the future, cities will change. You must have a fixed town layout to refer back to. If needed, you can ask Changxing Real Estate to help you make a model layout."
"A model layout? Got it, I understand," Zhang Zhiyuan nodded.
Hong Kong's development was fast-paced—everywhere was constantly under redevelopment. Since Little Ding-Dang was meant to be a long-running series, they needed a permanent, fictional town to avoid future inconsistencies. Otherwise, the team might forget what the original setting looked like years down the line.
Yang Wendong continued, "Once those three things are in place, then you can begin writing the stories."
Haste makes waste. The previous Changxing manga works were mostly aimed at Chinese-speaking markets. And since the mainland was still inaccessible, the market was very limited.
But Little Ding-Dang was the first manga intended for international expansion, so everything had to be done meticulously. Only after careful preparation would it be introduced to the market.
"Leave it to me," Wu Hailin promised, then added, "But creating this manga will take time. We'll need to serialize it first in our manga weekly, and only after that can we begin animation. Even with everything going smoothly, that's still over half a year away. I'm afraid we won't be able to support TVB in the short term."
"I know. I don't expect you to produce new content immediately," Yang Wendong said. "That's why I called you today for a second task. In the short term, I want you to help TVB acquire suitable overseas animation. Negotiate the licensing rights and deliver the content to them.
You're the professionals. You'll do a better job than TVB's current team—they're swamped."
Wu Hailin and Zhang Zhiyuan exchanged glances and nodded. "Understood. We'll handle it."
"Good," Yang Wendong said. "TVB will cover all costs, including the licensing and your team's service fees."
All Changxing subsidiaries billed each other normally for internal work. Unless it was a truly minor favor, everything was tracked. This maintained proper management structure—otherwise, internal resources could become chaotic. A large enterprise must operate by the rules.
"Understood," Wu Hailin said with a smile. He knew the group's internal procedures well.
"Alright, that's settled," Yang Wendong nodded. "Now tell me—how many weekly manga issues are we selling worldwide right now?"
For a regular news publication, international distribution was notoriously difficult. First, due to political reasons—governments were wary of foreign media. Many countries outright refused to grant licenses. Second, content had to be fully localized—Hong Kong articles didn't appeal to Taiwanese readers, let alone those in other countries.
But manga was different. Translate the text, and it could be distributed anywhere. There was no censorship, and since it wasn't news, even old issues were fine to send. You could ship an entire month's worth in advance, reducing logistics costs.
As a result, Changxing Manga Weekly was now distributed in over 30 countries across Asia. Most readers were still from Chinese-speaking communities, or those with some cultural familiarity. Broader acceptance remained limited. Stories based on Chinese mythology like Havoc in Heaven or Black Cat Detective could be hard for foreigners to understand. That was one of the weaknesses.
Zhang Zhiyuan answered, "Mr. Yang, we're currently selling 320,000 to 350,000 copies weekly across Asia. About 30,000 are in Hong Kong—a number we've held steady for a long time.
The majority of our circulation is in Southeast Asia and Japan. In particular, our mythology-based series are selling very well in Japan."
"Those Japanese really do love Chinese mythology," Yang Wendong nodded. "Alright, keep pushing to expand our reach. And regarding future movies—coordinate with Zou Wenhuai. Even if we sell overseas distribution rights at a discount, get our films into Japanese cinemas.
Once our content makes a mark in Japan, our cultural merchandise—toys, books, stickers—can follow."
"Understood," Zhang Zhiyuan said, then asked, "What about our Journey to the West series? If we make that into an animated film, would it work the same way?"
"Exactly," Yang Wendong said. "If Journey to the West becomes popular in Japan, Changxing Culture will gain access to a major market."
While Japan's economy still lagged behind the West, it was like Hong Kong in one key aspect—consistent, high-speed development. If a product could gain a foothold there, it would make serious money.
"Got it. I'll focus our efforts on developing the Japanese market," Zhang Zhiyuan nodded.
Yang Wendong added, "Little Ding-Dang will be the same. Japan should be one of its primary markets, just like all our future manga. Compared to Southeast Asia, Japanese culture is much closer to ours."
Even the language shared similarities—at least for now. Korea had also used Chinese characters extensively until the 21st century, when they began phasing them out.
"Yes," Zhang Zhiyuan said. "And Japanese kids are numerous, with strong purchasing power."
"Alright, then. Make sure you've noted all this. The first priority is to help TVB find good overseas animations."
"Understood, Mr. Yang. I'll start researching international titles this afternoon," said Wu Hailin.
"Good," Yang Wendong nodded.
By mid-September, TVB's development had accelerated dramatically. Even though its programming wasn't perfect yet, the long-standing monopoly of Rediffusion Television had led to stagnant content. When free and paid services went head-to-head, Rediffusion was crushed instantly.
In just over two weeks, TVB's viewership share approached 60%. During prime time, especially when airing Legend of the Condor Heroes, ratings climbed as high as 80%. Those who weren't watching were likely foreigners or didn't own a TV.
At the same time, the launch of a free TV station, coupled with booming real estate, stock market, and exports, led to a surge in television sales in Hong Kong.
And among all available brands, the best-selling TVs were none other than the affordable, high-quality models from Rongyao Electronics.
On the 17th, Wei Zetao and Zou Wenhuai arrived together at the entrance to Yang Wendong's office. Coincidentally, Yang Wendong was running late that day, and upon seeing the two of them together, he asked curiously, "You two came together?"
"We just happened to run into each other," Wei Zetao replied with a smile.
Yang Wendong nodded. "Is this something important? If it's not sensitive, you might as well come in together."
Normally, subsidiaries handling different business units didn't need to know much about each other's affairs—unless collaboration was required. Most operations weren't top secret, so unless it was highly confidential material, there was no need to act like they were in a spy thriller.
"I've got nothing too critical—just something that's about to be announced, and I wanted to report it to you," said Wei Zetao.
"Same here," added Zou Wenhuai.
"Alright, come on in then," Yang Wendong gestured for them to enter.
After they were seated, the assistant brought in coffee. Wei Zetao began, "Mr. Yang, TVB has been really popular lately, and a lot of people inside the group are having trouble getting their hands on TVs. So I was thinking of placing a bulk order of around 2,000 TVs from Rongyao Electronics, in the name of the group, to be distributed as benefits to top employees and key suppliers."
"An annual benefit?" Yang Wendong thought for a moment and said, "Alright. Changxing Industrial already has an employee award program. Let's switch it up this year with TV sets—it fits the current needs."
Changxing Industrial was one of the most profitable and successful companies in Hong Kong. As such, its employee benefits were among the best. Every year, it handed out Employee Excellence Awards—not to a mere handful of staff, but to 5–8% of the workforce.
With over ten thousand direct employees, rewarding only a few dozen people would feel hollow, even like favoritism. A larger number felt genuine, and the recipients were chosen for actual achievements in areas like technical innovation, quality control, process improvement, loss recovery, outstanding management, or safety compliance.
"Alright, I'll speak with Mr. Wang and negotiate a favorable price," Wei Zetao said with a grin.
"Also, pass along a message to him," Yang Wendong added. "Your order today should be treated as a marketing model. Rongyao Electronics should consider partnering with other large companies, selling TVs to corporate employees at wholesale prices. That's another potential sales channel."
The property crisis would hit next year. For now, consumer confidence was still high, so this was the best time to sell as many TVs as possible.
While Hong Kong wasn't a huge market for the Rongyao factory, it mattered immensely to TVB. Only with a strong local market could TVB generate enough ad revenue to produce high-quality programs, ultimately fulfilling Yang Wendong's cultural export strategy.
"Great idea. I'll make sure to bring it up with Mr. Wang," said Wei Zetao.
"Good," Yang Wendong nodded, then turned to Zou Wenhuai. "Old Zou, what brings you here?"
Zou Wenhuai said, "Mr. Yang, do you remember the plane crash in Taiwan back in June?"
"I do," Yang Wendong replied. "Does this have to do with Lu Yuntao?"
Lu Yuntao was one of the few figures in Hong Kong's film industry history who could rival Run Run Shaw. In his previous life, he wasn't well-known in mainland China because he passed away too early.
In June 1964, at the age of 50, Lu Yuntao died in a plane crash. His company, Dianhan Films (later renamed Cathay), was thrown into chaos after his death.
Yang Wendong had been startled when the accident still occurred—despite his butterfly effect on Hong Kong's business and entertainment sectors. He had expected such events to be altered. The fact that it still happened suggested it might not have been an accident.
Because of this, he didn't look into it deeply but instead focused on tightening personal security, especially around air travel.
"Yes," Zou Wenhuai confirmed. "The Lu family, behind Lu Yuntao, is actually a powerful Southeast Asian business dynasty. He was just one branch of the family, with a personal passion for filmmaking. That's why he achieved what he did.
Now that he's gone, the Lu family is looking to sell off his film-related assets, including his theater chain in Southeast Asia—55 theaters in Singapore, and over 30 more in Chinese communities across other Southeast Asian cities."
"Theater chains in Southeast Asia?" Yang Wendong's eyes lit up. This was a golden opportunity to break into Southeast Asia's capital markets and strengthen his own film empire.
Zou Wenhuai continued, "Before moving to Hong Kong, Mr. Lu was already a theater mogul in Southeast Asia. He couldn't match Run Run Shaw in scale, though. The Shaw family owns over 120 theaters in Singapore alone, and reportedly another hundred-plus across the region. The exact figure isn't clear, but it's in that range."
"How many people live in Singapore now?" Yang Wendong asked.
He hadn't deeply researched Singapore yet. He had originally planned to invest after it gained independence next year. But now, this unexpected opportunity had landed in his lap.
"About 1.85 million," Zou Wenhuai replied. "Roughly 70–80% are ethnic Chinese. Singapore has long been the second-largest overseas market for Hong Kong films—after Taiwan.
The reason Shaw Brothers dominated the Hong Kong film scene was that Run Run Shaw's movies could easily be exported to Southeast Asia, especially Singapore. Lu Yuntao did the same. Combined with their financial backing, they were able to crush the competition."
"Then we absolutely need our own theater network in Southeast Asia," Yang Wendong said firmly.
Selling movies overseas was usually a case of foreign partners making most of the profit, giving local producers a small cut. Not until the 1980s, when Hong Kong films exploded globally and Golden Harvest rose to power, did local studios start commanding real terms.
Owning theaters in Southeast Asia would mean access to millions of Chinese diaspora viewers, whose spending power far exceeded that of people in Hong Kong or Taiwan. These were communities that had survived centuries of business competition—they were the wealthy elites of the region.
"Exactly," Zou Wenhuai agreed. "If we can take over Lu Yuntao's theater chain, we'll gain control over our own distribution in Southeast Asia. We'll no longer have to rely on others."
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