Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 155 The Feast at Hongmen and the Parachuted-In Movie Queen

Harbin, Songhua River Hotel.

Second floor banquet hall.

Twelve brass chandeliers cast a dim glow.

The walls were covered with dark red velvet wallpaper, the seams of which were peeling up.

The muffled sound of water flowing came from the heating pipes, and the indoor temperature was pushed up to twenty-five degrees.

Thick frost flowers covered the glass windows, isolating them from the blizzard outside and the street.

A huge mahogany round table was placed in the center of the banquet hall.

The table was covered with an embroidered tablecloth and filled with delicacies from land and sea.

The rich sauce of the braised sea cucumber with scallions glistened on the white porcelain plate, while the eyes of the steamed grouper were whitish.

Twenty-three men sat around a round table.

They are the owners of independent cinemas in the three northern provinces.

No one touched their chopsticks.

Zhao Jianlin, the owner of Changchun Hongqi Cinema, was huddled in a mahogany armchair.

He raised his hand and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

The bone dish in front of me was empty, with only a few drops of spilled tea.

Wang Biao sat in the main seat.

He was wearing a black leather jacket with the buttons undone, revealing a chunky knit sweater underneath.

He was twirling two patina-covered lion's head walnuts in his hand.

The wood grain pressed against each other, producing a teeth-grinding scraping sound.

"Boss Zhao, the food is getting cold."

Wang Biao stopped what he was doing and slapped the walnuts onto the table.

Zhao Jianlin raised his head, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Brother Biao, the people from China Film Group went to Changchun this afternoon. They took all the film prints we had scheduled for screening. Tomorrow is the weekend, the cinemas won't be showing any films, and the ticket windows will have to put up a 'Closed' sign."

Wang Biao reached out and picked up the pack of Zhonghua cigarettes on the table.

He knocked out a cigarette and put it in his mouth.

The crew-cut man standing behind him stepped forward, striking a blue flame with his brass lighter.

Wang Biao brought the flame closer and took a puff.

The tobacco burned with a faint crackling sound.

He exhaled a grayish-white smoke.

Smoke rose in the halo of the chandelier.

"The copy is gone, but we can give you another one."

Wang Biao tapped the table with his finger holding a cigarette. "General Manager Zhang Jianguo has spoken. As long as you merge your cinemas into my Northern Alliance, you can have access to films from the five major cinema chains. You can also get a share of Hollywood blockbusters."

Li Ming, the owner of Shenyang Oriental Cinema, rubbed the fabric on his thigh.

"Brother Biao, we've already signed a letter of intent with Yanying. Director Chen promised to get us the latest digital projectors and also import European commercial films."

Wang Biao pinched the cigarette holder between his fingers.

He pressed the half-smoked cigarette into the white porcelain soup bowl in front of him.

The cigarette butt made a soft "hiss" as it touched the warm chicken soup and went out.

"Digital projector?"

Wang Biao stood up, his leather shoes clicking on the carpet. "All the equipment is stuck in my building materials warehouse. Chen Yan can't even get through the highway exit in Harbin, how can you expect him to replace your equipment?"

He walked up behind Li Ming.

He placed both hands on Li Ming's shoulders.

The thick knuckles pressed down forcefully.

"Although President Lu has been arrested, the rules in this northern territory still belong to us."

Wang Biao bent down, his cheek close to Li Ming's ear, "Follow Chen Yan, and your cinema will become a junkyard tomorrow. Follow me, and the five major cinema chains will guarantee you food on the table."

Li Ming's body slid down.

He dared not break free from Wang Biao's grasp.

Zhao Jianlin looked at the "Northern Cinema Alliance Franchise Agreement" on the table.

A Parker pen was placed next to the agreement.

"Brother Biao, the franchise fee is five million, and we have to hand over 70% of the box office revenue."

Zhao Jianlin's voice trembled, "Under these conditions, we can't even earn back our water and electricity bills."

Wang Biao straightened up.

He walked over to Zhao Jianlin, picked up the pen, and put it in Zhao Jianlin's hand.

"It's better than closing down."

Wang Biao looked Zhao Jianlin in the eye and said, "Sign it, and tomorrow morning, the China Film Group's copy will be delivered to your screening room. If you don't sign, you won't even be able to leave this room."

In the shadows surrounding the banquet hall stood a dozen or so men in military overcoats.

Their hands were in their pockets, and the hems of their clothes bulged out in a hard silhouette.

Zhao Jianlin held a fountain pen.

The pen tip hovered above the signature bar of the agreement.

The ink bled onto the paper, leaving a black dot.

Li Ming sighed.

He reached for the agreement in front of him.

The double carved wooden doors of the banquet hall were pushed open.

There was no knocking.

The door hinges made a dull turning sound.

A cold wind blew through the corridor, carrying a few snowflakes, directly into the stuffy room.

All eyes turned to the doorway.

Chen Yan stood outside the door.

He was wearing a dark gray cashmere coat, with unmelted snow clinging to his shoulders.

He didn't look at the men in military coats around him; his gaze went over the round table and landed on Wang Biao's face.

Su Wan stood to his left.

She was wearing a business suit and carrying a silver metal briefcase.

Lin Qingqiu stood to his right.

She was wearing a minimalist black haute couture suit.

Short haircut.

The sleeve of his right arm was rolled up to his elbow, revealing the hideous scar left by the quarry.

The scar appeared dark red under the light, creating a stark contrast with her pale skin.

Following behind them were more than a dozen reporters carrying cameras and microphones.

The equipment was decorated with the logos of Le Figaro, The Hollywood Reporter, and several domestic independent media outlets.

The flash went off.

White light flashes.

The sound of camera shutters clicking was continuous.

The man in the military overcoat standing in the shadows pulled out a steel pipe from his lower back.

They had barely taken a step when they were blinded by a barrage of flashes of light.

Several people raised their arms to shield their eyes from the bright light and stopped in their tracks.

Chen Yan stepped into the banquet hall.

Leather shoes stepped onto the thick wool carpet.

He walked to the head table.

I pulled out an empty mahogany chair and sat down.

"Boss Wang, the food is good."

Chen Yan looked at the leftover food on the table.

Wang Biao squinted.

He walked back to the head of the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

"Director Chen, you've got some nerve. You dare to come and cause trouble at my event with just a few reporters. Do you think this is the Cannes red carpet?"

Chen Yan turned his head and looked at Su Wan.

Su Wan placed the silver briefcase on the turntable.

She pressed the combination lock.

The latch popped open.

She took out a thick stack of documents and pushed them toward Wang Biao.

The document slid across the smooth glass turntable and came to a stop in front of Wang Biao.

"have a look."

Chen Yan spoke.

Wang Biao did not touch that document.

He leaned back in his chair.

"Director Chen, I, Wang Biao, have been in Harbin for twenty years. You think you can scare me with a few pieces of scrap paper?"

"Turn it over."

Chen Yan looked at him.

Wang Biao snorted coldly.

He reached out and turned to the first page.

The above is a record of fire safety violations by thirty franchise stores of Red Star Cinema.

Detailed photos were attached: blocked safety exits, expired fire extinguishers, and aging electrical wires that were illegally installed and connected.

Wang Biao turned to the second page.

A comparison chart of Red Star Cinema's actual ticket sales and tax records over the past three years.

The amount of tax evaded is circled in red, accurate to two decimal places.

Page 3.

Before Hengtong Building Materials went bankrupt, Wang Biao forcibly distributed substandard cement to more than a dozen construction sites. The victims of this incident signed a joint testimony.

It includes transfer receipts showing funds flowing to overseas underground banks.

Wang Biao's finger stopped at the edge of the page.

He looked up at Chen Yan.

"Lu Haiming has been arrested, and I have a very clear understanding of his account books."

Chen Yan leaned back in his chair. "Do you think he'll absolve you of all responsibility when he transfers his assets?"

Wang Biao closed the document.

He grabbed the teacup on the table and smashed it on the ground.

The porcelain shards shattered.

Tea splashed everywhere.

Men in military overcoats gathered around.

He gripped the steel pipe tightly in his hand.

The reporter's camera was pointed at these men carrying weapons.

The flash went off again.

Lin Qingqiu took a step forward.

She stood in front of Chen Yan.

There was no retreat.

She looked at the steel pipes, her eyes devoid of emotion.

"Let's do it."

Wang Biao pointed at the reporters, "Smash their cameras. Lock the door shut."

The man in the military overcoat raised a steel pipe.

The screen of Chen Yan's phone, which was on the table, lit up.

Caller ID: Wu Gang.

Chen Yan pressed the answer button and turned on speakerphone.

Push the phone to the center of the table.

"We've received the equipment."

Wu Gang's voice came from the speaker.

The background sounds included howling wind and snow, as well as the dull thud of heavy objects hitting sheet metal.

Someone is screaming in agony.

Chen Yan raised his eyelids and looked at Wang Biao.