Huayu: A master director who debuted as a singer

Chapter 63 If ​​you shut up, I'll stop?

In PolyGram's Cheng Tung-han's office, Cheng Tung-han also held a copy of Ming Pao in his hand, with a satisfied expression on his face.

Director Feng stood opposite him, reporting the latest situation.

"Mani Fok just responded, said a lot of polite words, and then announced that she would not respond further."

"It's quiet now?" Zheng Donghan put down his newspaper.

"It seems they intend to wait until things calm down."

Zheng Donghan smiled and said, "If he wants to quiet down, that's his business. When did I ever say that I would stop just because he quieted down?"

Director Feng was taken aback.

"For me, there are only two attitudes."

"If the opponent is still moving, then I will keep fighting until he dares not move."

"If the opponent doesn't dare to move, then I'll go up and stomp on him while he's lying down, making sure he can never get up again."

He looked at Director Feng: "You think this is over? This is just the beginning."

"They wanted to let it cool down, didn't they? Very well."

"Go find someone and keep writing articles in the newspaper. Make Yinghuang's silence seem like a sign of guilt."

"For example, faced with questions from the entire Hong Kong public, Ying-jeou and Nicholas Tse chose to remain silent. Doesn't that mean they tacitly acknowledged the media's criticism? Would a truly open and honest person be afraid of debate?"

Director Feng quickly jotted it down in his notebook.

"Go to those entertainment magazines again, spend some money to find a ghostwriter to pretend to be an acquaintance of Nicholas Tse and apologize on his behalf."

Director Feng looked up, somewhat puzzled.

Zheng Donghan continued, "You have to apologize in the way he hates and despises the most."

"Just write it like this: Nicholas Tse has been looking gloomy for days. People close to him revealed that he has actually seen the reports and knows that it is a fact that his home environment is different from that of ordinary people."

"Some friends advised me to be honest and admit that I am luckier than many people, so that the public would think I am honest."

Director Feng's eyes lit up; he seemed to understand.

Zheng Donghan continued, "But Tingfeng felt that doing so would be tantamount to admitting defeat. So Bai preferred to continue pretending and stay at home sulking."

That was a really vicious move.

This is tantamount to telling the public that Nicholas Tse is not rebellious, but just a child who can't accept defeat.

All his coolness and indifference were an act.

Deep down, he cared a lot and felt wronged, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it.

This hurt him more than if he were directly scolded.

"Finally, tear the word 'rebellious' off him and replace it with a different label."

"Go find a psychologist, the kind who likes to be on TV, has a good image, and is eloquent."

"Let him interpret Nicholas Tse's behavior patterns from a psychological perspective."

"Don't use complicated theories, just use the simplest analogies."

"Tell the audience that Nicholas Tse's behavior is not some kind of rebellion of the new generation, but rather the behavior of a spoiled child."

""

"A child who has had everything he wanted since childhood will throw a tantrum, smash things, and use confrontation to attract the attention of adults when he encounters the slightest setback."

This is essentially no different from a three-year-old child lying on the ground rolling around begging for candy.

With these three blows, Nicholas Tse's rebellious image, built up with money and a carefully crafted persona, will be completely deconstructed into a joke.

A spoiled, sore loser, and temperamental rich young master.

Zheng Donghan looked at Director Feng: "Do you understand?"

"Understood, Mr. Zheng." Director Feng closed his notebook.

"Go and do it."

At Hung Hom Railway Station, Zheng Hui walked out of the gate with the bustling crowd, with Li Zongming following behind.

Zheng Hui's gaze swept over the row of newsstands in the station hall.

"etc."

Zheng Hui stopped and walked towards the newsstand.

"Ah Hui!" Li Zongming was anxious and wanted to pull him away. It was perfectly normal for a few paparazzi to suddenly appear while they were sitting here.

Zheng Hui ignored him. He stood in front of the newsstand and pointed to several newspapers hanging on the shelf: "Boss, I want all of these."

The shopkeeper was busy calculating accounts when he heard the noise. He casually grabbed a few newspapers and handed them over: "Ten dollars."

Zheng Hui took out some coins and placed them on the counter, then picked up a newspaper.

Oriental Daily News, Sing Tao Daily, Next Magazine.

He unfolded the first one.

I expected to see headlines like "Zheng Hui avoids battle and leaves Hong Kong" or "coward." After all, he disappeared the day after Emperor Entertainment launched its attack and didn't show his face for six whole days; I could guess what the media would write about him.

But when his gaze fell on the front page headline, Zheng Hui paused for a moment.

His name wasn't mentioned, and no one even brought up that pretentious and empty label.

The page featured a photo of Nicholas Tse wearing sunglasses and his famous distressed T-shirt, giving the middle finger to the camera.

The title is in bold black font:

Rebellion or Privilege? The Commoner's Game of the Xie Family's Young Master

Zheng Hui opened the second copy.

The Sing Tao Daily's headline was even more direct:

From Central to Housing Estates: The Common People's Hardships That Nicholas Tse Doesn't Understand

The subtitle reads: While all Hong Kong citizens are tightening their belts to pay their mortgages, Mr. Tse is worried about not paying his management fees for four months.

Zheng Hui picked up that gossip magazine again.

The cover features a photo of Nicholas Tse celebrating his birthday as a child, surrounded by gifts, accompanied by a photo of unemployed Hong Kong citizens queuing at the Labour Department.

The middle line reads: "For some people, the starting point is the end point you can never reach in several lifetimes."

Zheng Hui stood in the bustling train station, quickly browsing the contents.

The article contained not a single word criticizing Nicholas Tse's songs, nor did it mention Zheng Hui.

It's all about accounting.

Let's calculate how much the clothes Nicholas Tse wears cost, how much the car he drives costs, and how much the management fees for his luxury mansion cost.

Then compare these figures with the current monthly salary of an average office worker in Hong Kong.

Every word is piercing to the heart.

Li Zongming also came over to take a look, his eyes widening: "What—what's going on? Why is everyone cursing Nicholas Tse?"

Zheng Hui closed the newspaper: "PolyGram."

In his past life, he knew that PolyGram was a major player, and even after being acquired by Universal, it remained a giant. But all he knew was that those three words represented money and resources, and countless hit songs.

Only today, standing in front of this newsstand and looking at the newspapers in his hand, did he truly realize his own strength.

This is the power of capital.

There's no need for explanations or insults.

You attack my singers for lacking depth? I'll attack your character for lacking groundedness.

You've molded my singer into a fake person? I'll mold you into a giant baby.

Zheng Hui rolled the newspaper into a roll and held it in his hand.

He needs to reassess the capabilities of PolyGram as a distributor.

Zheng Hui walked out of the newsstand, took out his mobile phone, and dialed Manager Chen's number.

"Hey, Manager Chen, I'm back. I just arrived in Hung Hom."

Manager Chen's voice on the other end of the phone was filled with excitement: "Mr. Zheng, please wait a moment, I'll drive over to pick you up right away."

"No need, I'll just take a taxi to find you."

"No, just wait for me at the station entrance. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Mr. Zheng instructed me to see you in person."

"Mr. Zheng?"

"Our boss, Mr. Zheng Donghan."

A short while later, Manager Chen drove to the train station entrance and picked up Zheng Hui.

"Mr. Zheng, you've worked hard!" Manager Chen got out of the car and bowed to invite Zheng Hui inside.

Zheng Hui got into the car and threw the newspaper he was holding onto the empty seat: "Manager Chen, that was a clever move of yours."

Manager Chen glanced at the newspaper, his eyes narrowing into slits with a smile: "This isn't my achievement; it's what the person above said."

He pointed to the roof of the car.

"Mr. Zheng Donghan?" Zheng Hui asked.

"Yes." Manager Chen's smile faded, and he said seriously, "Mr. Zheng wants to see you. He says he wants to talk to you in person."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Go straight to the company."

The car started, drove out of the train station, and merged into the rolling traffic.

Zheng Hui leaned back in his chair, looking at the city.

Six days ago, he left like a deserter, filled with rage.

Six days later, he returned with ten songs.

His opponents, on the other hand, have already been crucified by public opinion.