novellhall Chapter 21 Jiang Wen
Chapter 21 Jiang Wen
April 8th, Wednesday.
Over the past few days, Chen Xinjian has put the four newly approved projects on track one by one.
Director, lead actors, schedule, location shooting—he had people oversee these matters daily, providing verbal reports to Lin Dong every day. Lin Dong simply listened without interfering.
He only cares about the result; the process is up to Chen Xinjian.
Amazon's stock is also rising.
It climbed from 96 all the way to 100, broke through 105, and finally stopped at 108.375. Li Jiaxin's account profit ballooned from seven million to ten million US dollars.
Hong Kong newspapers no longer publish a headline for every dollar increase—they've changed their approach, now consistently placing Lin Dong's name and the phrase "turning stone into gold" in the same headline.
That afternoon, Lin Dong sat in his office. Zhang Baizhi sat on the sofa in the reception area, holding the script of "King of Comedy" open in his hand.
Lin Dong's phone rang.
"Lin Sheng, this is Wang Jing." Fatty Wang's voice came through the receiver. "Are you free tonight? I've invited some friends to Ningji Hot Pot for dinner."
Who are they?
"You've already met Wen Xie. There's another one—" Wang Jing paused, deliberately pausing for a second, "a friend from the mainland, surnamed Jiang. Jiang Wen."
Lin Dong leaned back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips. "What time?"
"Seven o'clock. Ning Kee, the one in Causeway Bay."
"OK."
He hung up the phone. A moment of silence fell over the office. Zhang Baizhi turned a page of the script, the page turning a beat slower than usual.
She then stood up from the sofa and walked behind Lin Dong.
The script was placed on the armrest.
Her fingers rested on his shoulder, her thumb gently massaging along the curve of his trapezius muscle with very light pressure, as if testing whether a cat wanted to be petted.
"Lin Sheng".
"Um."
"Can I come with you tonight?"
Her voice was soft, with a practiced ease. Her fingers were still rubbing, circling along the edge of her shoulder blade.
Lin Dong didn't turn around. "Do you know whose scheme this is?"
"Director Wang," she paused, "and Wensheng."
"And Li Jiaxin."
The fingers stopped.
He paused for a beat, then continued kneading, but the rhythm from before had been broken.
"Michelle will be there too." Her voice was still soft, but the "ah" was drawn out by half a beat.
Lin Dong turned his head and glanced at her.
A faint smile graced her face; she blinked, her eyelashes drooping and then lifting again.
"Director Wang and Sister Michelle are in the same film crew, so they'll definitely eat together."
She continued on her own, her fingers sliding from his shoulder to his elbow, "The way Michelle looked at me in the office last time—Mr. Lin, you saw it too. She doesn't really like me."
She bent down, leaned closer, and spoke in a low, soft voice.
"I think I'll pass. I don't want to cause you any trouble."
Lin Dong looked at her.
Her expression was docile. As docile as a kitten curled up in a cardboard box, even its claws tucked in. But deep in her pupils, a glint of light flickered—not of resentment, but of calculation.
She's gambling.
I'm betting that Lin Dong might say, "It's okay if she doesn't like you, I'll take you there."
Lin Dong did not accept the bet.
He raised his hand and slapped her on the bottom. The force wasn't strong, but the sound was crisp.
"Read the script carefully."
He stood up, picked up his coat from the back of the chair, and walked towards the door.
A-Qiang and A-Wei had already stood up from the benches in the corridor, one on the left and one on the right, two steps apart.
Last year's kidnapping case is still fresh in the minds of all Hong Kong people.
In September, a billionaire was kidnapped and detained for more than a month. He was finally released alive after paying HK$9 million.
Since then, wealthy people in Hong Kong have started bringing several bodyguards with them when they go out.
Lin Dong dared not be careless. With a net worth of two billion US dollars, his name was written on every newsstand in Hong Kong.
He is the richest foreigner in Hong Kong, and also the most conspicuous target.
Ah-Qiang opened the back door, and Lin Dong bent down and got in. Ah-Wei got into the passenger seat, Ah-Qiang started the engine, and the Mercedes silently glided out of the East Asia Bank Building.
Ning Kee Hot Pot is located on the second floor of an old building on Lockhart Road in Causeway Bay. Wang Jing booked a private room.
When the door opened, Wang Jing was the first to stand up. He was wearing a dark blue shirt today, and his belly was making the buttons look a little strained, but his smile was brighter than ever.
"Mr. Lin!" He came forward and shook Lin Dong's hands. "You must be tired from your journey. Come, come, sit here."
There were two other people sitting in the private room.
Wen Xie. He wore black-rimmed glasses, was thin, quiet, and his shirt was buttoned up to the top.
He stood up with minimal movement, just a slight bow and an outstretched hand. "Mr. Lin, I've heard so much about you."
Lin Dong grasped his hand. "Wensheng, I watched your 'Storm Riders.' It's amazing."
Wen Xie smiled but didn't reply.
The man standing next to Wen Xie was tall with broad shoulders. He wore a dark gray shirt without a tie. He had a square face, high brow bones, and deep eye bags.
"Mr. Lin, this is Jiang Wen, Director Jiang," Wang Jing gestured to the side.
Jiang Wen took a step forward and extended his hand. His hand was large, with distinct knuckles, and when he grasped it, the pressure was neither too light nor too heavy.
"Lin Sheng." The voice was deep, as if it came from the chest.
"Director Jiang," Lin Dong looked at him, "I've seen 'In the Heat of the Sun.' It's a great film."
Jiang Wen's eyebrows twitched. "Has Lin Sheng seen it?"
"I've seen it. The part where the protagonist climbs to the top of the chimney and jumps down—I've remembered it for a long time."
Jiang Wen was silent for a moment. Then a faint smile appeared on his lips, barely visible beneath his eyelids. "That scene took three days to film."
"value."
Li Jiaxin sat next to Wang Jing, wearing a white dress and two pearls on her earlobes. When she stood up, her hand naturally rested on Lin Dong's arm.
"Ah Dong." The voice was soft, carrying a calm assertion of sovereignty.
Lin Dong pulled out a chair and sat down, with Li Jiaxin sitting to his left.
Jiang Wen sat opposite him, Wen Xie sat next to Jiang Wen, and Wang Jing sat in the main seat.
The bottom of the pot is already boiling.
The red broth bubbled and churned, a layer of butter glistening on the surface, and the spiciness mixed with the numbing aroma of Sichuan peppercorns rose from the table, permeating the air in the private room.
Wang Jing picked up a plate of beef, pushed it with his chopsticks, and the slices of meat slid into the pot, where they rolled up in the boiling broth and changed color.
He scooped up a mouthful of food and put it into Lin Dong's bowl, then scooped up another mouthful for himself, his mouth never idle.
"Mr. Lin, although I own shares in this restaurant, I'm telling you the truth: the beef is genuinely tender and flavorful, and it's definitely worth a try."
Wen Xie, holding his teacup, replied unhurriedly, "He always orders three dishes whenever he comes."
"So what if it's three plates?" Wang Jing said matter-of-factly. "I can eat two plates by myself."
Li Jiaxin chuckled, said nothing, and poured Lin Dong a glass of beer. Eating in a place like this just calls for beer to really enjoy it.
Lin Dong took a bite, nodded in satisfaction, and said, "Not bad, delicious!"
Then he looked up at Jiang Wen and said, "Director Jiang, Director Wang told me that you're preparing for a project?"
Jiang Wen nodded. "Tell me about a village during the War of Resistance against Japan."
"What's your name?"
"Devils on the Doorstep"
Lin Dong paused for a moment as he was picking up food with his chopsticks.
"The Japanese devils are coming." He repeated these four words, his voice not loud, but it was particularly clear amidst the bubbling of the hot pot.
Jiang Wen looked at him. "Does Lin Sheng know this story?"
"I don't know." Lin Dong put down his chopsticks. "But this title—I roughly know what you're going to film."
Jiang Wen didn't respond. He was waiting for Lin Dong to continue.