Chapter 83: The Wanderer's Oath

"Moreover, I am a director myself, and have just won the Best Newcomer award at the Hong Kong Film Awards. Though I’ve only made two films, each has surpassed ten million in box office receipts in Hong Kong. One, The Butcher in the Rainy Night, has already been released in Taiwan, earning over thirty million NT dollars, and the other will premiere tomorrow in Taipei."

"In addition to Dragon Talent Agency, I am also the owner of Dragon Records. Although Dragon Records has only released two albums so far, both have sold over a hundred thousand copies in Hong Kong, and two more are currently in production."

With such a promising money tree right before him, Yan Xu would not let it slip from his grasp. He was eager to assure Wang Jie of his company’s status in the industry, emphasizing that it was neither a domineering nor a shady enterprise.

Hearing Yan Xu’s words, Wang Jie’s cold expression began to change. He was startled by Yan Xu’s claims; if they were true, Yan Xu was a big boss he could only look up to. Yet why would such a person seek him out? That was the question gnawing at Wang Jie.

After years of experiencing the fickleness of human relationships—and even sleeping on the streets with his daughter—he was convinced that good fortune never simply fell from the sky. So he was half skeptical, half hopeful about Yan Xu’s proposal.

“Foolish boy, how could Mr. Yan deceive you? He is Mr. Liu’s honored guest and a famous director in Hong Kong.” Though he didn’t know why Yan Xu was so interested in a stand-in actor, seeing Wang Jie’s half-believing expression, Ah Can couldn’t resist chiming in.

“Huh?” Wang Jie didn’t doubt Ah Can at all. As a stuntman, he knew Ah Can well and was familiar with the movie company’s background. Anyone Mr. Liu treated as a VIP was certainly no ordinary person.

“What does Mr. Yan want with me?” For the first time, Wang Jie’s expression changed.

“Are you interested in returning to Hong Kong and joining my talent agency?” Yan Xu looked at Wang Jie.

“This…” Wang Jie was taken aback. He didn’t think himself anything special—why would Yan Xu choose him?

Joining a talent agency was the dream of many stuntmen like him. Once signed, the company would arrange all his future work, and even in the worst case, he’d have a stable monthly income—far better than his current feast-or-famine existence.

“Foolish boy, why are you still hesitating? Mr. Yan has chosen you—that’s a stroke of luck!” Ah Can didn’t understand what kind of dumb luck this simple stuntman had to catch Yan Xu’s eye.

“With Mr. Yan’s support, you’ll get more screen time in his films—far better than being a stuntman, maybe even a chance to shine as a minor celebrity.”

“Mr. Yan, may I ask something? There are many stuntmen in Hong Kong better than me—why did you choose me?” Wang Jie would not make such a decision lightly; this was not like changing jobs—he would have to move to Hong Kong.

“Intuition. Everything depends on my intuition.” Yan Xu looked at Wang Jie.

“Intuition?” Wang Jie was clearly dissatisfied with that answer.

“Yes, intuition.” Yan Xu nodded. “You could call it fate between us. My intuition is very accurate—most of the people in my company were chosen by it, and now most have gained some fame. The moment I saw you, I knew you had great potential; you’ll have a place in this industry.”

“Of course, it’s not all intuition. Your appearance is quite suitable for a stuntman, and many of my films require actors like you.” Yan Xu continued, “What you need is an opportunity, and I can give you that. Whether you seize it is up to you.”

Perhaps it was Yan Xu’s final words that moved Wang Jie. His expression grew resolute; as Yan Xu said, this was his opportunity, and only he could decide whether to grasp it.

“I agree,” Wang Jie nodded, solemnly. His daughter would remain by his side, and apart from her, he had nothing left in Taiwan.

**************************

Having secured Wang Jie—a future money tree—Yan Xu was thoroughly satisfied with his trip to Taiwan. After arranging Wang Jie’s affairs, Yan Xu attended the premiere of his film in Taipei.

After a period of promotion by Darong Films, Taxi Judge had gained a certain reputation in Taipei. Recently, both local Taiwanese films and imported Hong Kong movies released a series of comedies. Though they achieved decent box office results, the repetition had caused viewers to grow weary.

Yan Xu’s Taxi Judge brought a breath of fresh air to the film scene, attracting many thrill-seeking youths. Yet ultimately, it had an age restriction, and some scenes were unpleasant enough to keep certain audiences away.

Of course, this was all within Yan Xu’s expectations. In Taiwan, unlike Hong Kong, the taxi industry wasn’t a subject of discussion, and bloody films weren’t favored by older viewers.

He didn’t expect the explosive trend he’d seen in Hong Kong. The first day’s box office exceeded three million NT dollars, which surprised Yan Xu—it was nearly a million more than The Butcher in the Rainy Night’s opening.

If this trend continued, the final earnings would surely surpass The Butcher in the Rainy Night. It seemed his nomination for Best Screenplay at the Golden Horse Awards, plus Zhou Hui-min’s win for Best Movie Song, had done the box office some good.

Of course, Zhou Hui-min’s album promotion also played a role.

During Yan Xu’s sightseeing, Zhou Hui-min was anything but idle. She appeared on several variety shows and at campus events, gaining recognition in Taiwan.

With her album released, the music of “Girl with Wings” echoed through the streets of Taipei.

This pure, innocent girl quickly won a devoted fan base, even earning the title “Heartthrob Killer.” Her first film would attract many young male fans, and even those underage found ways to sneak into theaters.

While Yan Xu felt lukewarm about the box office, Darong Films was much more optimistic.

As a medium-sized company, they couldn’t compete with the big firms for rights to Hong Kong movies. Though Baizhan would take forty percent of the box office, in their own theaters they’d keep sixty percent.

At other cinemas, they could still earn a fifteen percent commission.

Even if the box office matched The Butcher in the Rainy Night, Darong would still net ten million NT dollars—a substantial sum, given Taiwan’s strong purchasing power at the time.

This was the peak of Taiwan’s economic boom; a typical salary could reach fifteen thousand NT dollars. Though similar to Hong Kong’s wages, prices were far lower—a dollar bought a large loaf of bread, fifty cents a steamed bun, and a big bowl of noodles at a street stall cost only two NT dollars.

Only after the stock market crash years later did this situation change.

ps: The internet was down, but now it’s back!