Chapter 415: The Asian Superstar Development Plan
Central District, HSBC Headquarters:
Sanders stared at the newspaper in his hands, frowning. After a long silence, he finally said, "It seems Yang Wendong is preparing to invest heavily in Singapore."
"Very likely," a red-haired British associate agreed. "His real estate company has been liquidating assets all over Hong Kong. It looks like he's preparing to relocate those funds to Singapore."
Sanders chuckled. "He's a clever one, no doubt. Singapore is well-positioned geographically and has a large Chinese population. According to our intelligence, a massive influx of Chinese capital is bound to enter the region. Singapore may well become a second Hong Kong."
"Hmm, the British Empire has had to give up a lot of valuable territories in recent years," the redhead sighed, glancing at Sanders. "But what's wrong? You were one of the first to call out Hong Kong's overheated property market."
"That's not what's bothering me," Sanders said. "What bothers me is that Yang Wendong's investments in Southeast Asia weren't financed through HSBC."
"That's not surprising," the redhead replied. "He's always been focused on the international market. His products sell all over Europe and America. Foreign banks are eager to work with him. You'd be hard-pressed to get exclusive access to Changxing Group's international financing."
"True, it's a shame," Sanders nodded.
For typical local companies in Hong Kong, their financial records meant little to overseas banks—it was too hard to verify. The reverse was also true: HSBC wouldn't dare give large loans to unfamiliar Southeast Asian firms. Risk control dictated caution.
That's why, over the years, most Hong Kong businesses looking to go overseas still relied on HSBC. Even giants like Jardine Matheson or Swire Group often chose HSBC because of the mutual trust and reliable guarantees.
But Yang Wendong was a different breed. Most of Changxing Group's real value lay not in fixed assets in Hong Kong, but in patents, technology, and global sales networks. Hong Kong was just a production hub. Even if local factories were shut down, Yang could rebuild elsewhere within a year or two.
From the perspective of international banks, lending to Changxing posed minimal risk. So while HSBC might still be a partner, it would never be the only one.
The redhead added, "I'm more concerned about Chinese-owned banks—like Hang Seng Bank. They've been growing rapidly in recent years, and I heard they recently issued new shares. A lot of prominent Chinese families bought in—including Yang Wendong."
Sanders nodded. "Yes, Hang Seng is growing too fast. I even heard they're planning to open overseas branches. If that happens, and they start holding foreign exchange reserves, HSBC's dominance will be threatened."
HSBC's biggest advantage was that it effectively acted as a quasi-central bank, holding a huge amount of foreign currency. Companies wanting to do business abroad had no choice but to go through HSBC.
For example, when Hong Kong shipping tycoons bought ships, they almost always worked with HSBC. Even Standard Chartered only got scraps.
Chinese banks technically could handle forex too, but only as intermediaries under HSBC. They had to first tally up all their transactions and then ask HSBC to facilitate the conversion. In essence, HSBC had simply outsourced small-scale forex services to local Chinese banks. The big deals, HSBC still handled directly—after all, no major corporation would willingly pay extra fees to a middleman.
"So what can we do?" the redhead asked.
"Don't worry," Sanders said calmly. "Hong Kong's banking sector is still dominated by British capital. As long as the colonial government remains, there's no way they'll let something as strategic as finance fall into Chinese hands. Even in autonomous Singapore, the financial system is still British-controlled.
At most, the Americans might take a slice through Citibank. Local Chinese banks are still far behind."
"True enough," the redhead nodded. "But after that incident recently, the mainland has become much tougher in its diplomacy. I worry the British government won't dare push too hard anymore…"
Sanders paused in silence, then finally said, "If that's the case… then there's nothing we can do."
Small business depends on capability. But in big business, background matters most. Without political backing, even the most competent players had to accept their limits.
—
Changxing Group's HK$60 million investment in Southeast Asian cinemas started to trickle into public discussion. But since it didn't affect average citizens directly, the buzz was limited. Most people discussed it once or twice and moved on.
The smaller Hong Kong film studios, however, were energized. Representatives had approached Changxing Theaters and received the same answer: future releases from any Hong Kong studio would have a far greater chance of getting screened in Southeast Asia.
Of course, they would need to perform well in Hong Kong first. But even so, the opportunities were clearly much better than before.
Inside Changxing Tower, Zou Wenhuai briefed Yang Wendong on recent developments.
After listening, Yang Wendong asked, "So you're saying instead of buying the distribution rights outright, we'll send select high-quality films overseas, and then split profits based on actual performance?"
"Yes," Zou Wenhuai explained. "The buyout model has its pros and cons. In the past, many films were bought out by Southeast Asian distributors, but the performance turned out average. That scared them off from buying more.
And even if a film did well, Hong Kong studios had no idea how it performed overseas. They got a flat fee either way. This disconnect caused them to lose their sense of the market.
If we instead cooperate and share profits, we avoid early investment risk, and other studios get real-time feedback, which encourages them to create better content. It's a win-win."
"Agreed," Yang Wendong nodded. "Long term, only if there are enough good films will our theaters remain profitable—and that gives us more reason to expand."
Cinemas were like hotels—most of the time, they weren't full. Many screenings ran at less than half capacity. Only the biggest hits drew large crowds.
But expenses—property, equipment, staffing—were fixed costs. So every extra ticket sold after breaking even was almost pure profit. The higher the attendance rate, the faster revenue would scale exponentially.
That's why it was in everyone's best interest to ensure as many quality films were made as possible. Changxing didn't need to monopolize the screens—cooperation brought the best returns.
To ensure long-term high attendance in cinemas, there had to be enough high-quality films — this was not something that a single Changxing Film Company could achieve alone, especially as the number of cinemas under its umbrella continued to grow. Only when all of Hong Kong's film studios thrived could that kind of content supply be maintained.
"Exactly, I think so too," said Zou Wenhuai. "And now that our film production complex is complete, it won't just be convenient for our own use. We can also rent it out to other production companies, which will help them cut down their filming costs."
"Good. I'll find some time to go see the film base myself," said Yang Wendong with a smile.
Given the scale of Changxing Industrial today, and the limited size of the Hong Kong market, small industries were either left alone or fully integrated like the manufacturing businesses—developed into full industry chains.
The film industry was no exception. From production bases to cinemas, Yang Wendong planned to control everything. This wouldn't only serve his own film company's convenience but would also help drive the entire industry's growth. Just like with his plastics industry—controlling the upstream and downstream, while leaving the midstream partly open, allowing others to profit and grow the overall market together.
Zou Wenhuai smiled. "No problem, Mr. Yang. You can come by anytime."
"I've more or less laid the groundwork in the film industry," Yang Wendong said. "Later on, if opportunities arise, we'll continue expanding our theater chain and acquiring more land in Southeast Asia to build new cinemas.
My goal is to take Hong Kong cinema beyond Hong Kong, and make it a force across Asia. But whether that can be achieved ultimately depends on film quality.
Encouraging others to make good films is one thing. We also need to make better films ourselves. That's our next major focus."
In the cultural industries, capital could pave the way, but whether or not it succeeded in the long run depended on content quality. Both elements were essential.
Zou Wenhuai nodded. "Understood. At the moment, whether it's Hong Kong, Taiwan, or Southeast Asia, the hottest genre remains martial arts films. Now that the studio base is ready, shooting this kind of film will be much easier.
So I plan to shoot a large number of martial arts films, and use them to begin developing our own stars."
"Jimmy Wang Yu is gaining popularity. He has some name recognition in Southeast Asia already, right?" asked Yang Wendong.
Wang Yu was a martial arts actor that Changxing Film had been cultivating recently. His fighting skills were top-tier, and his movies had consistently made HK$300,000 to HK$600,000 at the box office. While not blockbuster-level, his stable performance was already considered outstanding.
"Yes, he's doing quite well. Even in Hong Kong, companies are starting to approach him for endorsements," Zou replied. "The only issue is that he's currently on a fixed salary. Though he makes over HK$1,000 a month, it's still far too low compared to how much his movies are earning.
Recently, several other studios have approached him, offering several thousand for just one movie—which only takes a week or two to film. He's definitely tempted."
"And he hasn't left?" Yang Wendong asked.
"No. He hinted at it discreetly during a conversation, probably as a way of letting me know."
"Well, that's not bad. At least he gave a heads-up," Yang Wendong said with a chuckle. "Actually, this is all within expectations. If you look at Hollywood, actors there were on fixed salaries too, a few decades ago. But over time, the system evolved into today's high-earning model.
It's similar in other countries. It's just that Europe's market isn't as large as the U.S., so actors there earn less."
"You mean… we should raise their pay?" Zou Wenhuai looked surprised.
If this were happening at Shaw Brothers, the actor would likely have been scolded or fired on the spot. Even though he knew Yang Wendong was more generous, he hadn't expected such a quick and easy agreement.
"There's no use saying no," Yang Wendong replied. "What are you going to do—hold him at gunpoint?
Sure, Changxing Group could blacklist Wang Yu across half the industry. But what's the point? When a group of people can create significant value, they deserve to be fairly compensated."
A lot of people believed celebrity pay was too high, but Yang Wendong thought otherwise. Acting success was like a brutal elimination process—only a handful made it to the top.
Acting ability also required artistic talent—something that couldn't be taught or replicated. In his previous life, China's entertainment industry went downhill when internet capital tried to mass-produce "idol actors," only to churn out a bunch of talentless hacks.
Yes, Changxing could crush Wang Yu's career. But doing so would only scare off new talent, hurting the industry long-term.
In the 1980s, Hong Kong's top stars made millions per movie, and tens of millions per year. That income became the key driver for young people to enter the entertainment industry.
And for Changxing Group's cultural vision, such sums were trivial. But if those investments created movie stars who could conquer Asia, or led to hit films, songs, or TV shows, then the return would be tenfold or more.
"Got it," Zou Wenhuai nodded. "I'll draft a new compensation model for actors, directors, and screenwriters. Something that gives them higher earnings and greater motivation to keep producing."
"Good. That kind of mutual benefit is ideal," Yang Wendong said. "Besides Wang Yu, is there anyone else with name recognition?"
"Not yet," Zou replied.
"That won't do. We need diversity among actors," Yang Wendong said, thinking aloud. "You know the Maritime Academy in Kwai Chung? It's where we train personnel for Changxing Shipping?"
"I've heard of it," Zou replied, already catching on.
"I want us to start training our own talent too," Yang Wendong said. "Waiting for the market to do it naturally is too slow. We need our own system.
So, find a place in Tseung Kwan O and build a film academy. One that trains actors, screenwriters, and directors. For actors, set up multiple tracks and recruit people based on different criteria—ideally, those with at least some education.
Use Wang Yu's rising salary in your marketing campaign. Make it known that actors can make big money, so that young people will be motivated.
I want a batch of talent trained as fast as possible.
This won't just benefit your side. TVB is planning to produce large-scale costume dramas and also needs talent. So we can train them together."
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