Chapter Ninety-Seven: Tycoon Zou Wenhuai

Apart from Jackie Chan’s starring role and the fact that it was Golden Harvest’s first production, what also drew everyone’s attention in Police Story was the name Yan Xu in the screenwriter credit.

By now, Yan Xu’s reputation in the industry was ringing loud and clear. The three works he had taken part in as a writer had all been huge hits, and some people had even begun calling him a million-dollar screenwriter. Of course, that title was only something people said; no one would truly pay that much just to have Yan Xu continue writing scripts.

Yan Xu had only just stepped out of the car when he was surrounded by a swarm of reporters. Since returning from Taiwan, he had all but vanished from public view in order to shoot his new film; aside from going home, he was almost always on set. Yan Xu was also adhering to a policy of secrecy in production. Not only he himself, but every member of the crew had refused all interviews. That only deepened the mystery surrounding his films, and everyone was curious what kind of subject he would tackle this time. Now that he had come to Jackie Chan’s premiere, it was only natural that the reporters would not let him off.

At long last, after shaking free of the reporters’ cameras and microphones, Yan Xu let out a heavy breath. He had finally experienced the troubles of fame. These reporters were not yet as outrageous as the paparazzi of years to come, but the questions they threw at him were already more than he could comfortably handle. Beneath each seemingly simple question lurked a trap, and a careless answer could easily get him caught.

“Ah Xu, why do you look so battered?” a voice asked just as Yan Xu was straightening his clothes.

He looked up and saw Jackie Chan coming out from the lounge.

“Don’t even mention it. Those reporters came at me in wave after wave. They almost talked the contents of my new film out of me, and all my secrecy during this whole stretch would have been for nothing,” Yan Xu said with a sigh.

“For a movie, everyone else does everything they can to promote it. You’re the only one who does things differently and keeps it all under wraps,” Jackie Chan said with a laugh.

“I don’t have your kind of box-office power. Even if the whole plot were laid bare, your real martial arts alone would still draw crowds in droves. I have to think of other ways. I can only rely on mystery to attract people. Besides, if my film were spoiled ahead of time, there’d be no fun left in it.”

“Oh, right. Why did you have me come so early?” Yan Xu asked.

The premiere was set for eight o’clock, but Jackie Chan had asked him to arrive at seven, which was undeniably early.

“You count as part of the crew too, so of course you should come early. Besides, Mr. Zou wanted to meet you.”

“Mr. Zou wants to meet me?” Yan Xu asked in surprise.

There was only one Mr. Zou Jackie Chan could mean: Golden Harvest’s chairman, the film tycoon Zou Wenhuai.

From an apprentice reporter to a film magnate, Zou Wenhuai’s life was nothing short of legendary. After leaving Shaw Brothers, he founded Golden Harvest and quickly shattered Shaw Brothers’ stranglehold on the industry. Even under Shaw Brothers’ pressure, he discovered Bruce Lee, and that became the turning point for Golden Harvest. Later, through his willingness to delegate and his producer system, he drew in the likes of Michael Hui, Jackie Chan, and Sammo Hung in succession, writing a brilliant chapter in Hong Kong cinema during the 1980s and propelling Golden Harvest into rapid growth.

In 1980s Hong Kong, many small companies operating under the producer system aimed first at Golden Harvest when releasing their films; only if they could not get into Golden Harvest’s circuit would they turn to the others. Under Golden Harvest’s system, many major stars were able to fully display their talents and gradually develop their own distinct styles.

Michael Hui’s satirical action comedies, Jackie Chan’s high-risk, thrilling martial-arts farce, and Sammo Hung’s blends of kung fu, comedy, and the supernatural all became their signature selling points. At Golden Harvest, they could all become versatile talents who wrote, produced, directed, and starred in their own works, even founding subsidiaries of their own.

Zou Wenhuai was nearing sixty, yet stood only a little over five feet tall. He was balding on top, with sparse gray hair, a thin frame, prominent cheekbones, and a large pair of black-rimmed glasses. He wore a red plaid shirt beneath a light-gray suit. He looked less like a film tycoon than a scholar who had wandered into the wrong world.

“Uncle Zou, this is Yan Xu,” Jackie Chan said as he brought Yan Xu over to him, his tone unusually respectful.

“Hello,” Zou Wenhuai said with the easy warmth of an affable old gentleman.

“Hello, Mr. Zou,” Yan Xu replied. Faced with such a figure, he could not help feeling somewhat nervous. Though he had already achieved a measure of success in the industry, one word from the man before him would be enough to shut him out entirely.

“Young people are so full of energy. So young, and already a million-dollar director. At your age, I was still just a little reporter,” Zou Wenhuai said, sizing him up.

“I really have to admit that age catches up with us. The waves behind the Yangtze keep driving the waves before them,” Yan Xu said.

“Mr. Zou, you flatter me. With a body as strong as yours, you could keep going for decades at least. We younger ones will still have to rely on your guidance and support.”

“Haha, you really do have a silver tongue. No need to keep calling me Mr. Zou. This old man can certainly answer to ‘Uncle.’”

“Then... Uncle Zou.” That single address meant Zou Wenhuai had acknowledged him, and things in the industry would go much more smoothly for him from here on.

“I’ve already watched the sample of Jackie’s Police Story. It’s very good. I can’t predict exactly how much it will make, but it is certain to be a hit. That success owes not only to Jackie’s own efforts, but also to your contribution,” Zou Wenhuai said with a nod.

“It’s still mainly because of Brother Jackie’s real skill. Without his martial arts and his willingness to risk his life, no matter how good my script was, it would all be for nothing,” Yan Xu said hastily.

“You don’t need to be modest. Your script captured Jackie’s style very well. In his earlier films, although they sold well, they never fully captured his own flavor; they were basically all influenced by Sammo Hung.” Having discovered so many stars over the years, Zou Wenhuai had a very sharp eye.

The Police Story Yan Xu had written for Jackie Chan was one of his most representative works, and also the most mature expression of his style. It was truly a milestone.

“I hope you can continue working with Jackie. Golden Harvest will never shortchange you for any script,” Zou Wenhuai said, finally revealing the reason he had wanted to meet Yan Xu. He knew perfectly well that he could never lure Yan Xu away from Brilliant Films, because he could not offer him the same huge share of profits. But the sample of Police Story had shown him that a box-office smash was already within reach, and continued cooperation was inevitable.

“Actually, this Police Story of mine is meant to be a series,” Yan Xu said, looking at Zou Wenhuai. Working with Golden Harvest was exactly what he had hoped for. In his mind were many Jackie Chan films, and as Jackie’s star value rose, scripts alone could bring Yan Xu another source of income. Add to that Golden Harvest’s connections, and his path in the industry would only grow smoother.

“As for the script, just discuss it with Jackie,” Zou Wenhuai said, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction. “I hear you’re shooting another film lately, and a lot of people are paying attention to it. When is it due to be released?”

“Probably around the beginning of September,” Yan Xu said after thinking it over. It was already August, and part of the film had been shot. The remaining scenes could basically be finished before the end of the month, and with post-production included, September should be about right.

“Perfect. After Jackie’s Police Story, we’ll follow it with Sammo Hung’s Summer Lucky Star, which is just about to leave the screens at the beginning of September. I can free up some theater slots,” Zou Wenhuai said.

“Huh?” Yan Xu looked at him in surprise.

Zou Wenhuai’s meaning could not have been clearer. A huge pie had just fallen from the sky.

In Hong Kong, the most important thing for a film’s release was the theater circuit. Golden Harvest was one of the big three circuits, and every release slot was packed tight. Their own productions alone could fill the schedule completely, so carving out even one slot was no easy matter.

Yan Xu’s first two films had achieved such excellent results even when shown only in scattered small circuits. If they could enter one of the big three, the numbers would surge even higher.

“Thank you, Uncle Zou. Thank you so much,” Yan Xu said quickly, delighted. No one ever turned away money.

“This is a mutually beneficial arrangement. Your reputation as a director is ringing loud in the industry, and many people are waiting for your next film,” Zou Wenhuai said.

Businessmen pursued profit, and the reason Zou Wenhuai was making room in the circuit was not only to accommodate the remaining scripts in Yan Xu’s Police Story series, but also because he valued Yan Xu highly. The success of Yan Xu’s first two films was certainly no accident, and he had every confidence in the third.