In order to make money and earn foreign exchange, Zhou Qingfeng did everything possible. He went through the laws and specifically selected the relatively simple and feasible businesses.
The 'environmental protection' industry is the most durable and indispensable industry for human existence. Now that comics are printed, film and television products should also keep up.
The girl with the stage name 'Su Su' went to the bathroom and came back five minutes later. She was filming "The Widow Next Door". The original drawings were twelve volumes, but the scriptwriter she hired was very good at filling in the water. It would have been impossible to film fifty or sixty episodes.
It won't be over.
Each episode is about half an hour, short and concise, with compact content, equivalent to a TV series.
Because of this drama, the midnight screenings in HK theaters have been extremely popular recently, and it has also set off a craze in theaters throughout East Asia.
Hearing that video tapes could earn a lot of foreign exchange, Xiao Jinlang couldn't help but be moved. He looked at each other with Director Chen who was following him, and their hearts beat faster, and he had the idea of filming more and earning more.
"Does this matter need to be written in the report?" Chen Mu asked in a low voice.
Lao Xiao was awkward and disgusted just now, but then he regarded 'Su Su' as a good girl who devoted herself to the development of the country. He didn't even look at Chen Chu, and said as straight as a pine: "If you want to write, you write. I will be the one
Didn’t see it.”
Xiao Jinlang, you old fox!
Director Chen thought to himself: "How do you want me to write about this? If something goes wrong and the boss blames it, who will be blamed? Didn't I discuss it with you and agree on the same tone?"
The studio that was renovated from a warehouse worked late into the night. The crew were all night owls, and they became more energetic as the night went on. Lao Xiao saw the filming and really learned a lot, but he still came out after half an hour.
"Ouyang, didn't Mr. Zhou come to hk? Where is he?"
Ouyang Jun also spread his hands, "I don't know. When I landed, I called Mr. Zhou's hk number, but I couldn't get through.
The person who receives the goods at the dock said that the 'environmental protection' industry has been booming recently, and HK has produced a lot of low-quality pirated copies, which has caused us a lot of losses. The president is here to deal with piracy."
Piracy?
loss?
Xiao Jinlang suddenly became furious, and even Director Chen beside him was furious.
Is it easy for me to earn some foreign exchange? I don’t have any face, and I have worked so hard to find a way to make a fortune. In just a few days, people have come to snatch food from the tiger’s mouth. I must be impatient.
"Who is so bold?" Director Chen asked eagerly, "Want to help? Mainland China still has some influence in HK."
Ouyang shrank his neck, shook his head and said, "I don't know very well, it is said that they are a group of Vietnamese who are crazy and poor.
They are brave, not afraid of death, and do whatever it takes to make money. When Mr. Zhou found out about this, he just said "Oh" and then disappeared.
The local staff at Hk all said that it is not us who should be worried now, but the Vietnamese. They are even very happy, as if they are waiting for a good show."
Lao Xiao and Chen Chu looked at each other, completely confused.
In the 1970s, with the end of the Vietnam War and the withdrawal of U.S. troops from South Vietnam, a large number of Vietnamese refugees fled into Hong Kong. These people were poor and miserable and often fought in downtown areas, which made Hong Kong's public security quite chaotic for a time.
Because they are so poor that they only have one life to live, Vietnamese overseas immigrants have always lived at the bottom. Their footprints are all over the world, and they give outsiders the impression that they are "skinny, dark, tolerant, and fierce."
This time I saw the "environmentally friendly" comics on the market, which are easy to make money and have little technical content. There are inevitably people who want to get a piece of the pie.
Hk's local gang was beaten twice by Zhou Qingfeng. Especially when he bloodbathed the mourning hall for the second time, the entire hall disappeared without a trace overnight, which really frightened many people.
But the Vietnamese are not intimidated. They have a closed circle and almost no communication with the outside world. They don't care or even hear the rumors in the market. They only see opportunities to make money.
So in the middle of the night, a "Jialing" motorcycle carried a young man and rumbled towards the North District of Hong Kong's New Territories. This is an area close to the Shenzhen River, and thirty years later there is still a lot of farmland.
Without a GPS and unfamiliar with the roads, the young man held a map and wandered around the residential buildings in the North District. It took him a long time to find a messy residential area.
Most of the dilapidated streets are buildings from the 1950s and 1960s. The signboards on the shops are all lacking in pen and painting, and there is no connection with the international metropolis at all.
It was late at night, and only the street warblers were walking around. Occasionally, people appeared in the market, either salty guys looking for fun or unruly little ruffians.
The young man rode a motorcycle and stopped in front of Liuying, took out a large Hong Kong dollar and waved.
"Boss, come with me." The scantily clad Liu Ying carried a small bag and walked up to the young man. She couldn't see the young man's face wearing a helmet, so she could only glance at the motorcycle he was riding.
This motorcycle is very big, a bit larger than the normal Jialing motorcycle. Its appearance has also undergone some changes, making it more streamlined. The engine sound is deeper, which represents strong power.
The young man didn't get out of the car and stuffed the banknotes into the buttons of Liu Ying's underwear.
He didn't take off his helmet either. He just spread out the map in his hand and asked, "I'm in an underground printing factory. It should be run by Vietnamese, but I don't know where it is?"
When Liu Ying heard that she was looking for a Vietnamese, she turned around and left.
The young man grabbed his arm, forced Liuying to turn around, and begged: "Brother, give you the money back. I don't want to cause trouble."
"You are already in trouble." The young man pressed his hand hard and asked: "Either you tell me where the underground printing factory is? Or I crush your hand? You choose one."
The young man's strength made the Orioles scream and shake their heads. Other Orioles in the market fled in fear.
Not long after, two skinny little ruffians ran out of the dark corner, pointed at the young man and yelled, "Young man, don't cause trouble. If you don't want to play with women, get out of here."
At this moment, the young man realized that he seemed to have reached the territory of the target group, because the Cantonese accent of the two little ruffians was obviously weird.
"I'm looking for an underground printing factory. It probably has a few old machines, seven or eight workers, and the leader is a group of Vietnamese."
The young man rode up on a motorcycle and grabbed the gangster on the left by the throat. The gangster on the right didn't even see his opponent's movements clearly, and immediately realized something was wrong, turned around and ran away, shouting along the way.
The young man knocked out the little ruffian in his hand. The heavy motorcycle followed the escaping man slowly, twisting and turning into the alley next to the community street.
The alley is very narrow, less than two meters wide.
There is domestic sewage flowing on the ground, and the sewer pipes here must have been blocked long ago.
There were many clothes drying racks on both sides of the alley, and the escaping gangsters were yelling wildly while pulling the clothes to dry on the ground. The tires of heavy motorcycles ran over them, splashing sewage and leaving clear wheel marks.
At the end of the alley was an open house, and several skinny, short, but fierce guys came out from behind the rusty iron door. They heard the shouts of the little ruffian, and they rushed forward casually.
The tin house is quite large, and under the light, you can see several working printing machines inside. The sound of paper printing is endless and very rhythmic.
When the young man's motorcycle drove up, a capable leader emerged from the tin house, holding an AKM-47 in his hand and barking fiercely.