Chapter 00249: First Earnings
# First Earnings
Chapter 249
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 249: First Earnings
"May our friendship last forever!"
"Wishing you greater success in your future films!"
In the office, Chen Qi shook hands with the film distributor from Singapore and Malaysia, quickly reaching an agreement.
Singapore was small in size and population, having separated from Malaysia, with deep historical ties.
Film distribution was usually handled by a single major distributor.
Singapore and Malaysia had always been key markets for Chinese-language films, but their market capacity was limited, and prices didn’t fluctuate much.
*The Tai Chi 1* sold for $150,000, and *The Tai Chi 2* for $200,000. Chen Qi didn’t haggle—the Chinese community in Malaysia was excellent.
15% of $200,000 was $30,000.
Next was Kim Min-yong from South Korea.
As mentioned before, among Chinese movie stars, Jackie Chan stood in a league of his own overseas, universally popular.
Other regions had their preferences—for instance, the Japanese loved Yuen Biao, while South Koreans adored Jet Li, Andy Lau, Chow Yun-fat, and Leslie Cheung...
Yes, South Koreans really liked Andy Lau and Joey Wong too.
Stephen Chow’s films generally didn’t fare well overseas—his comedies struggled to break out until *Shaolin Soccer* and *Kung Fu Hustle* finally succeeded.
Jet Li was one of the most popular Chinese stars in South Korea.
Though he never topped the box office in Hong Kong, his paycheck was second only to Jackie Chan precisely because of his overseas appeal, including immense popularity in Taiwan.
"Aigoo!"
"You truly are my benefactor! Buying your film made me famous in my company..."
Kim Min-yong entered with an exaggerated, uniquely Korean-flavored flattery.
Chen Qi waved it off mentally—*Ah, your country was founded within a U.
S. military base.
How’s the national stability?*
*How’s Chun Doo-hwan doing? Has Roh Moo-hyun entered politics yet? Want me to make a film called *Seoul Spring* for you?*
"Please, have a seat!"
Chen Qi gestured while keeping his thoughts to himself.
Kim Min-yong sat across from him, continuing to ramble with praise but carefully avoiding the topic of price.
Chen Qi wasn’t in a hurry either, leisurely sipping his tea.
After nearly twenty minutes of one-sided chatter, Kim Min-yong finally stopped awkwardly when he realized Chen Qi wasn’t biting.
"We’re very interested in purchasing *The Tai Chi 2*—same price as the first one, $300,000!"
"Double," Chen Qi said.
"$600,000?! No, no, impossible!"
Kim Min-yong shook his head like a rattle-drum.
"No distributor in our country has ever imported a foreign film at that price. We won’t take such a risk."
"But I heard *The Tai Chi* was very well-received in your country. The first film was admittedly a bit thin, but the second one expands on the late Qing Dynasty, foreign invaders, Western oppression, and the struggle to save the nation... You’ll understand it, and the action is even better. Doubling the price is more than fair."
Why did period martial arts films sell well in East and Southeast Asia?
Because many of these regions were deeply influenced by Chinese culture, even sharing the Confucian cultural sphere—they *got* it.
South Korea’s peak spending on Hong Kong films was in the '90s, with top-tier star movies easily exceeding a million dollars.
Now, a decade later, Chen Qi wasn’t asking for a million.
After much back-and-forth, Chen Qi held firm at $600,000. Finally, Kim Min-yong gritted his teeth.
"Fine! $600,000 it is!"
"Excellent! This film will absolutely be worth it."
"I hope so..."
Kim Min-yong shook Chen Qi’s hand, gambling once again, just like last time.
Next was Nakamura Shinji.
Before the mainland market rose to prominence, Japan had always been the world’s second-largest film market, as well as the second-largest music market.
Japan’s entertainment industry was highly developed—and extremely insular.
Very few foreign products could penetrate it, while their anime and gaming industries dominated globally.
That part was truly impressive.
These days, Chen Qi had been reviewing *The Tai Chi 1*’s box office performance in the West.
It did well in some countries—Poland saw a staggering 12.78 million admissions, while Colombia’s capital, Bogotá, exceeded 100,000. But in places like the U.
S. and U.
K., the numbers were middling.
U.
S. theatrical earnings hovered around $1.5 million.
However, video rentals performed decently, even cracking the top ten in the still-nascent market.
The guy from 20th Century Fox had bought the rights for Western Europe, North America, and Australia, including video and cable TV.
Overall, it was profitable, but demand for the sequel wasn’t as high as in Japan or South Korea.
This was also why Chen Qi planned to shift to modern action films.
This time, he set his sights on Japan—they had money!
Jackie Chan’s films could sell for $3–5 million there.
Nakamura Shinji entered, exchanging polite pleasantries in heavily accented English.
Unlike the previous two, he wasn’t stingy—having paid $1 million for the first film, he proactively raised his offer for the sequel: "$1.5 million!"
Seeing Chen Qi remain silent, he added, "We’ve shown great sincerity!"
"You have, but I believe $2 million is a fairer price."
"$2 million?! No, that’s far too much!"
"*The Tai Chi 1* earned ¥3.6 billion in Japan. You must’ve made at least $9 million in profit—$2 million isn’t excessive at all."
"The first film is the first film. The second is the second. You can’t guarantee it’ll perform as well. Films are high-risk with many unpredictable factors—you know this."
After a long stalemate, Chen Qi said, "Think it over. We’ll talk again tomorrow. If we can’t agree, I’ll have to approach Toei or Shochiku instead."
Japan had five major studios: Toho, Toei, Shochiku, Nikkatsu, and Kadokawa.
Toho was the leader, but the others weren’t pushovers either.
"......"
Nakamura Shinji frowned, wrestling internally.
Judging by the trailer, *The Tai Chi 2* maintained the same high quality and would undoubtedly turn a profit in Japan.
Paying $2 million would just mean slightly lower margins.
But he couldn’t decide alone—he needed his superiors’ approval.
"I’ll consider it."
"Very well."
Lastly, Thailand.
Nothing much to say here—the market was small.
They settled on $120,000.
Calculating all deals at 15%, Singapore-Malaysia ($30,000), South Korea ($90,000), Thailand ($18,000), and Japan ($300,000) totaled $438,000—roughly ¥700,000+ in RMB.
The exchange rate was about $1 to ¥1.7 (official rate, at least—the actual rate was, well, those who knew, knew...).
With this extra cash, Chen Qi wouldn’t be strapped for funds before the payments came through.
He’d have more breathing room for future projects, plus concrete achievements to report.
Yes, upon returning to the mainland, he’d have to submit reports—including Xiao Mo and Xiao Geng.
"How did it go?"
Fu Qi entered.
Since *The Tai Chi 2* was independently produced by their studio, he hadn’t been involved.
"Not bad. The Japanese are stubborn, but they really want it. Last time, I managed to swindle the Americans—that was a one-time thing. Getting high prices from them again would be tough, so Japan’s the best bet now."If *The Tai Chi 2* performs as well as the first, that’s enough.
The real focus is *The Orphan*.
Combined, these two films should bring in..."Chen Qi abruptly stopped, then spat three times for luck."Better stay humble.
Pretend I didn’t say that."Fu Qi laughed heartily."When are you heading back?""*The Orphan* is wrapping up soon—November or December.
Oh, Uncle..."Chen Qi added,"I’ve written a script already set for Andy Lau.
He’s filming *Boat People* now.
After I leave, if there’s any news about him, please let me know.
I’ll come back if needed."
(End of Chapter)