Chapter 00269: Turmoil in Hong Kong
# Turmoil in Hong Kong
Chapter 269
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 269: Turmoil in Hong Kong
Hong Kong.
In Jackie Chan’s luxurious mansion, he angrily threw a newspaper onto the floor and stomped on it twice, cursing, “Nonsense! Talking out of your ass! You’re the one who’s finished, your whole family is finished!”
The large shoe print covered an article analyzing the box office performance of this year’s Lunar New Year releases.
All four major film studios had debuted their works, each screening in their respective theater chains, maintaining a peaceful coexistence:
First was Shaw Brothers’ *The Eighteen Martial Arts*, directed by Lau Kar-leung, with a box office of 7 million HKD, projected to settle around 9 million.
The leftist-backed *The Shaolin Temple* still had considerable momentum but failed to surpass *The Tai Chi Master*, currently sitting at 13 million HKD, projected to reach around 15 million.
Golden Harvest’s *Dragon Lord* had come in with great fanfare but ended up as all bark and no bite, with current earnings at just 8 million HKD—if it could break 10 million, that would already be a blessing.
Cinema City’s *Aces Go Places* was a massive hit, having already surpassed 20 million HKD, with attendance rates still soaring.
The number of viewers was expected to break Hong Kong’s historical records.
This achievement finally let Cinema City hold its head high, exceeding everyone’s expectations—well, except for *that guy*.
“Jackie Chan is past his prime. He keeps making the same Republican-era martial arts films without innovating. The content is repetitive, and audiences are tired of it.”
“He flopped in Hollywood and thought he could still be the big boss back in Hong Kong. Turns out, he’s flopping here too!”
Each word stabbed into Jackie Chan’s heart like a knife.
He was so agitated he wanted a drink when he suddenly heard shuffling footsteps behind him.
Joan Lin, dressed in a beautiful nightgown, walked over.
She wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and said softly, “What’s wrong? Not happy?”
“The newspapers are spouting nonsense. It’s pissing me off!”
“That’s just how Hong Kong newspapers are. You should know better than me. Don’t stoop to their level.”
“This time is different…”
Jackie Chan didn’t like discussing work with women.
He patted her cheek and said, “You should head back tomorrow. I’m going to be busy.”
“I came all this way to see you, and now you’re chasing me away? I’m not asking you to spend more time with me—I just want you to be happy. I want to see you smile…”
Joan Lin cooed sweetly, her affectionate demeanor soothing his mood somewhat.
The two had only met last year and quickly became involved.
But Joan Lin knew she was just one of his many girlfriends.
Unlike the others, she had a plan—to have his child.
Jackie Chan would later write in his autobiography: *“Back then, I had many girlfriends. I was trying to figure out who was the best fit. Then, before I knew it, Jaycee (his son) was on the way. I didn’t even want to get married at the time—it felt like I was forced into it…”*
It was this very year that Joan Lin would retire from acting and secretly marry him.
By the end of the year, Jaycee Chan would be born.
Late at night.
Jackie Chan walked out of the bedroom, still unable to sleep.
He wanted a drink.
Sitting on the sofa, he opened a bottle and poured himself a glass.
He picked up the newspaper again.
He had personally watched all these films—*The Eighteen Martial Arts* was just Lau Kar-leung showing off his usual tricks, while *The Shaolin Temple* had flashy but hollow fight scenes.
*Aces Go Places* had genuinely surprised him.
He never expected Hong Kong to produce such a structurally sound, richly layered, and highly entertaining commercial film.
The kind of film he had only ever seen in Hollywood before.
Then he thought of *that guy* again, and his heart skipped a beat.
“Even if he was just guessing, how could he be *this* accurate? Said *Dragon Lord* would hit 10 million, and it did. Said *Aces Go Places* would explode, and it did. I heard mainlanders like studying paranormal abilities—could his real identity be some kind of special envoy sent to Hong Kong for united front work?”
The more Jackie Chan thought about it, the wilder his theories became—and the wilder they got, the more plausible they seemed.
Hong Kong people were superstitious!
At this time, the fame of Thailand’s White Dragon King hadn’t yet reached Hong Kong, but Jackie Chan had consulted many fortune-tellers before.
All they ever gave him were vague, roundabout answers—none as precise as Chen Qi’s predictions.
“What else did he say?”
Jackie Chan thought for a moment.
Oh, right—he also said Shaw Brothers should shut down and focus on developing TVB, that Golden Harvest and Shaw Brothers combined still couldn’t beat Cinema City, and that no foreign film would break into the top ten this year!
“He even told me to join the leftists. How could I possibly do that…”
Jackie Chan’s mind began to stir. *But meeting him for a chat couldn’t hurt.*
————
Clearwater Bay Studios.
*Boat People* was nearing completion, with some footage already in post-production.
In the office, Hsia Moon and Ann Hui sat in silence.
They had gone to Hainan and Guangdong to film without issues, but somehow the news had leaked, exposing them to the Hong Kong media.
Filming in the mainland? How outrageous!
The Free General Association was furious!
Taiwan’s Government Information Office was furious!
It was said they would launch a full investigation.
Hsia Moon had great confidence in this film and didn’t want it compromised.
After a long silence, she said, “Director Hui, what I’m about to say might sound selfish, but I feel I must say it.”
“...”
Ann Hui looked up at her.
“The Free General Association bans Hong Kong filmmakers from associating with us. If discovered, they threaten to blacklist you—but the blacklist is just a front. What they really want is extortion. The company pays up, the actors write letters of repentance, and it blows over. *Boat People* has become public knowledge, so they can’t extort me. But they’ll pressure all of you to make concessions. Since *Boat People* won’t be sold in Taiwan anyway, and both of us have high hopes for this film, why not just ignore them? Use your real names, finish the film, and create a cinematic masterpiece.”
“...”
Ann Hui thought it over seriously, then smiled. “I make art films—I never had much of a market to begin with. I don’t care either way!”
“Then it’s settled?”
“I mean it from the bottom of my heart!”
Both women laughed.
Hsia Moon sighed in relief—Ann Hui was the soul of this film.
As long as she stayed, the film would survive.
But Ann Hui asked, “What about the actors?”
“I’ll talk to them. No matter what, we must finish the film.”
With that, Hsia Moon left and entered another room.
George Lam, Cora Miao, and Andy Lau were waiting inside, all looking glum.
When Hsia Moon entered, they immediately stood up—she was a senior figure, after all.
“Sit.”
Hsia Moon waved her hand and spoke first. “Given the circumstances, I won’t make things difficult for you. You’re under contract with me, so please finish the remaining scenes. What you do afterward is none of my concern.”
“Thank you for your understanding!”
“Thank you!”
“Can we go back to the company first to discuss? Everyone’s panicking.”
“Go ahead.”
After the brief talk, the three immediately returned to TVB.
That’s right—they were all TVB artists.
George Lam had originally been with Commercial Television, but after its collapse, he jumped to TVB.
Cora Miao had competed in Miss Hong Kong before joining TVB.
Andy Lau had already signed a formal contract and was now officially with TVB.
When the three returned, they were met with a furious scolding: “I must’ve been cursed in a past life to end up with you three ‘heroes’! And that damn newspaper—where the hell did they dig up this news? Now the Association knows, Taiwan knows, the whole of Hong Kong knows!”
“...”
Andy Lau was new and stayed quiet, but the other two felt wronged.
They had sought permission from the company before taking on outside projects.
Now that trouble had arisen, they were the ones getting yelled at.
“Isn’t writing a letter of repentance enough?” Cora Miao asked.
“This time is different! I’m taking you to the Association right now to gauge their stance!”
(That’s it!
July has come and gone.
This month’s updates were about the same as last month’s.
My back is killing me—I need a break tomorrow…)
(End of chapter.)