novellhall Chapter 38, Part 4 of a Series of Poisoning Attacks
Chapter 38, Part 4 of a Series of Poisoning Attacks
The next morning, Fan Binbin and her daughter took the earliest flight back to the mainland.
The crew of "Ma Yongzhen" is still waiting for Fan Binbin to return to film. Zhang Chuanmei is actually not sure about this trip back. The contract termination with Qiong Yao is not yet settled, and although the agreement with Tengda has been signed, no one can say for sure what kind of resources Lin Dong can give her daughter.
But Fan Binbin remained calm.
As the plane took off, she leaned against the window, looking down at Hong Kong Island, which was getting smaller and smaller, and said to Zhang Chuanmei, "Mom, Lin Sheng won't treat me badly."
She spoke in a very calm tone, not like a gambler, but more like someone who had already seen the cards.
Lin Dong didn't really pay much attention to her.
The day after he left, the name Fan Binbin never appeared in his mind again.
Chen Xinjian is handling everything for her now—from contract termination negotiations and details of the subsequent contract to her plane ticket back to the mainland. Lin Dong only glanced at a brief report before setting it aside.
Tuesday, May 6th.
The opening day box office figures for "The Unemployed Emperor" and "Hotline" are out.
"The Unemployed Emperor" grossed HK$50,000 in a single day across 17 cinemas in Hong Kong.
"The Terror Hotline," released in the midnight slot and shown in 18 theaters, did have a slightly higher box office, but it only grossed a little over 60,000 yuan a day.
The two films together cost less than 120,000 yuan, and the theater was less than 30% full.
When Chen Xinjian placed the box office data on Lin Dong's desk, his face remained expressionless.
Lin Dong glanced at the numbers, but didn't say anything. He simply flipped the form over and placed it face down on the table.
The two directors' reactions were far more interesting than the box office figures.
Qian Wenqi arrived first, taking off and putting on her silver-rimmed glasses repeatedly, circling the corridor before finally being led into the office by Zhang Baizhi.
He stood in front of the desk, his lips moving for a long time before he finally managed to utter three words: "President Lin, I—"
"I understand," Lin Dong interrupted him. "Go back and prepare for the next film."
Qian Wenqi paused for a moment, then bowed and turned to leave three times faster than when he came in.
In the corridor, they met Ma Weihua, who had just arrived. The two exchanged a glance, and Qian Wenqi patted him on the shoulder without saying anything.
Ma Weihua was calmer than Qian Wenqi when he came in; at least he spoke in complete sentences.
"President Lin, the box office results—it's my problem; the pacing of the script wasn't handled well."
"Understood." Lin Dong replied in the same manner. "Bring him back for the next film."
"Thank you, Mr. Lin." Ma Weihua didn't waste any more words, bowed, and left.
In the following days, the box office performance of the two films did not pick up; instead, it declined day by day.
On Wednesday, the total reached 80,000, but on Thursday it dropped below 50,000. By the weekend, some cinemas had already cut the number of screenings by half.
Hong Kong media entertainment sections began to report on the matter, with similar headlines: "Wall Street stock king suffers first defeat, Tengda's two small films flop at the box office."
But no one mocked them, and no media outlet dared to use the word "failure."
They wrote very restrainedly, only listing numbers without stating conclusions, and always adding a sentence at the end: "With Mr. Lin's net worth of two billion US dollars, this investment is just a drop in the ocean."
5 month 10 number.
The films "The Way We Are" and "Ah Keung's Last Night" were scheduled for screening.
When Xu Liang and Chen Yaowen's successor—a young director named Zheng Baorui—came to the company to meet Lin Dong, Lin Dong only said one sentence: "Keep a calm mindset."
The results were as expected. "Tin Shui Wai" drew just over 30,000 on its opening day, while "Ah Keung" fared slightly better, drawing close to 50,000.
After the weekend, the two films together grossed less than 200,000 yuan.
Hong Kong media outlets have started calculating the losses – Oriental Daily News said that Lam Tung lost about six million dollars on the four films, Ming Pao said that including the copy costs, it should be close to seven million dollars, and Apple Daily, while not gloating, also published a short message in a corner of its entertainment section with the headline: "Flop."
No matter how you calculate it, losing everything is basically a done deal.
May 17th, Sunday.
Wang Yalin arranged a preview screening of "Mongkok Street" a day in advance.
The location was an old cinema on Nathan Road in Mong Kok with 300 seats. She spread the word through Philip Chan that Lam Tung would be there.
By 4 p.m. that day, forty or fifty reporters had already crowded in front of the theater, along with onlookers, completely blocking the already narrow Nathan Road sidewalk.
The cinema temporarily deployed six more security guards, but faced with the increasingly dense crowd, those six guards looked like they were made of paper.
At 4:20, a black Mercedes-Benz drove from the direction of Mong Kok Road, followed by a white Crown.
When the convoy stopped at the end of the sidewalk, the crowd of reporters began to stir.
The bodyguard got out of the car first.
Ah Qiang emerged in single file with five bodyguards in black suits, and the six of them quickly formed a fan shape in front of the Mercedes-Benz.
Ah Qiang glanced at the crowd and nodded to the driver inside the car.
The rear door of the Mercedes-Benz is opened.
Lin Dong straightened up and adjusted his suit sleeves. The six bodyguards immediately tightened their formation, protecting him firmly in the middle.
There was no red carpet. Security guards stood outside the human wall, holding hands and pushing reporters back.
"Lin Sheng! Lin Sheng! Over here!"
Microphones were poking in from all angles, and flashes of light were popping everywhere.
Wang Yalin was already waiting at the theater entrance, with director Huang Jiahui standing next to her, and Li Zhi next to Huang Jiahui.
Today, Li Zhi wore a simple white shirt and gray trousers, with no makeup and only a light layer of lip gloss on her lips.
Wang Yalin's eyes lit up first.
She hurried to greet him, a smile on her face that was three parts excitement and seven parts nervousness. "Mr. Lin, you've finally arrived. This way, please—"
"Thank you for your hard work." Lin Dong shook hands with her and then nodded to Huang Jiahui.
Just as we were about to walk into the theater, someone in the group of reporters started shouting at the top of their lungs.
"Mr. Lin! With your previous four films failing at the box office, will that affect your plans to invest in films in the future?"
Lin Dong didn't stop.
"Mr. Lam! What's your box office budget for 'Mongkok Street'? Are you confident you'll break even?"
Lin Dong continued walking.
Then a voice boomed from the back of the crowd.
"Mr. Lin! Did you invest in this film because of Miss Li Zhi? Is Miss Li Zhi your lover now?"
Li Zhi's face flushed instantly. Not from embarrassment, but from anger. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her fingers clenched and unclenched at the seam of her trousers.
Lin Dong stopped in his tracks.
He turned around and glanced at the reporters in that direction. His gaze fell upon them, and the scene fell silent for a moment; even the camera flashes paused for a split second.
"Two points to clarify," Lin Dong said softly. "First, Ms. Li Zhi and I are just colleagues. I do admire her acting skills, and we would like to work together again if the opportunity arises."
"Secondly," he changed the subject, looking directly at the reporter, "a film's box office failure is always due to multiple factors. The director, the script, the publicity, the release date—if any one of these pillars goes wrong, the box office won't be able to hold up."
What actors can do is take their roles seriously and give their best performances. I think Ms. Li Zhi did just that.
After he finished speaking, he patted Ah Qiang on the shoulder, and the six bodyguards regrouped and escorted him into the theater.
Wang Yalin quickly stepped in and called out to the crowd, "Dear journalists! There will be an interview session after the screening. Please come in now! Watch the movie first, then we'll talk!"
The reporters reluctantly put away their microphones and began to pour into the theater.
Wang Yalin stood at the door, maintaining a smile while secretly wiping the sweat from her forehead.
Huang Jiahui walked next to Lin Dong. The aisle from the door to the screening room was no more than thirty steps. He had swallowed three times in less than ten steps.
As a new director, this was his best chance yet, and if he failed, he didn't know how much longer he would have to waste his time.
When the lights in the screening room dimmed, Huang Jiahui sat next to Wang Yalin, his palms sweaty.
Li Zhi sat next to Lin Dong.
She was slightly moved as she recalled what Lin Dong had just said.
Even if a super-rich person and an ordinary person say the same thing, the meaning will be worlds apart.