My teacher is Bruce Lee, who dominated Hollywood.

Chapter 168 Qin and Han's Invitation

Off-Broadway, an unnamed dark alley on the edge of 42nd Street.

Here, there are no neon lights, no sunlight all year round, and a pungent smell of urine permeates the air.

"Damn it! How many times have I told you, the color of this seashell is wrong! It's pink, a pearly pink!"

A furious roar pierced through a graffiti-covered wooden door and echoed through the narrow alley.

Qin Han followed behind Alan Menken, his leather shoes treading on the waterlogged ground, like a European nobleman who had stumbled into a slum.

Allen also changed into the new suit that Qin Han had sponsored for him. Although his tie was tied a little crooked, his overall demeanor was noticeably different.

He pushed open the half-closed wooden door and led Qin Han into the backstage area of ​​the children's theater.

The backstage space was extremely cramped, with the floor piled high with poorly made cardboard trees and big-headed dolls.

In the middle of a messy pile of props, a man wearing black-rimmed glasses was waving a paper seashell in his hand, frantically attacking two trembling crew members.

"Howard!" Alan Menken took a deep breath and shouted.

The irritable man turned around abruptly. When he saw his old friend looking completely different, he was stunned for a moment, then immediately turned his gaze to Qin Han, who was standing behind Allen.

"Alan, is this the Hollywood big shot you were talking about on the phone last night?"

He casually tossed the seashell in his hand onto the prop box, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked very wary.

"That's right! Howard, you won't believe it!" Allen's voice trembled with excitement as he strode forward, trying to share his elation with his best friend: "Disney! It's a fully-funded, A-list production by Walt Disney! Mr. Qin specifically requested that the two of us be responsible for all the music and lyrics! Even—even the theme song is sung by Elvis Presley!"

The two production assistants looked at Alan Menken as if he were an idiot, not even daring to breathe loudly.

Howard Ashman neither screamed nor cheered; behind his thick glasses, his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked Qin Han up and down.

A mocking sneer escaped from his nostrils.

"Alan, I always thought you were just stubborn about music, but I never imagined your brain had been ruined by cheap whiskey."

He walked around the debris on the ground, stood in front of Qin Han, raised his chin, and looked at him with a mixture of mockery and wariness.

"A Disney talent scout? Looking for people in a basement where there's more rat droppings than dust?"

He pointed a finger at Qin Han's fine trench coat without any politeness, his tone extremely sarcastic: "Sir, how much would you charge to rent this outfit for a day? If you're here to scam investors, you've come to the wrong place."

We don't have a single cent here; we survive on rock-hard, leftover hot dogs every day.

"There's no such thing as a free lunch. I learned that on the streets of Brooklyn when I was twelve. Now, take your Hollywood star dreams and get out of here!"

Faced with this barrage of taunts, Alan Menken broke out in a cold sweat and desperately tried to step forward and explain.

Qin Han raised his right hand and stopped Allen.

Instead of being angry at Howard's rudeness, he showed a hint of admiration.

Without rushing to prove his identity, he walked straight to a folding iron chair against the wall and sat down: "You're very vigilant, Mr. Howard."

"On the streets of New York, maintaining this kind of wild-blooded vigilance is a necessity for survival."

"But there's one thing you have to understand. In this world, con artists can impersonate Wall Street bankers, and they can impersonate Washington politicians."

"But absolutely no one would dare to sign a commercial contract on American soil under the name of Walt Disney."

.

"Disney's legal department is a bunch of sharks that go crazy at the smell of blood. Anyone who dares to use their trademark to commit fraud will be sent to jail and stay there until the next century."

Howard's eyelid twitched involuntarily.

Although he was a low-level creator, he was well aware of the ruthless reputation of Disney's legal department in the industry.

The aura of this Asian youth in front of me is something that a conman who makes a living on the streets could never fake.

Even so, he kept his lips tightly pressed together, stubbornly maintaining his defenses and refusing to give in easily.

Qin Han was too lazy to waste words on meaningless debates. The most effective way to deal with such a clever and suspicious genius was to prove his point with facts.

He walked to the stage crew station, where there was an old-fashioned rotary dial telephone covered in dust.

With a whirring sound, the phone was connected.

"It's me, Qin."

He then handed the microphone to the two men, and a deep, resonant southern accent came through: "Hey, Qin, my old friend! God, I just got back to Hawaii."

That was Elvis Presley's voice.

No one in the United States could mistake this voice.

Elvis seemed to be in a great mood on the other end of the phone; you could even hear the sound of waves crashing on the beach in the background.

When are you going to send me the sheet music for that underwater story? I can't wait to soothe my throat.

"My little Lisa asks me every day, what does that beautiful mermaid with red hair look like?"

Howard Ashman was completely petrified.

The face, which had been flushed with anger, turned deathly pale in an instant. His mouth gaped open, and he didn't even notice that his thick black-rimmed glasses had slipped half an inch down his nose.

Alan Menken, standing next to him, covered his face with his hands and collapsed onto the prop box behind him.

Elvis! It really is Elvis!

Moreover, judging from their tone, this music king and the young man in front of him are clearly very good friends!

Qin Han chuckled softly into the receiver: "Elvis, I'm in New York selecting top-notch songwriters for you. The sheet music will be delivered to your bedside soon. Please give my regards to Lisa."

After hanging up the phone, Qin Han turned around, put his hands back into the pockets of his trench coat, and looked at the two "geniuses" opposite him who had completely lost their ability to speak.

"Now, Mr. Howard," he tilted his head slightly, a smile playing on his lips, "can we sit down and have a serious talk about this windfall?"

Howard Ashman's attitude underwent a complete 180-degree turn.

The guarded attitude vanished without a trace, and a fervor, like a volcano about to erupt, was brewing deep in his eyes.

He chased away the two troublesome production assistants, hastily wiped a slightly cleaner table with his sleeve, and pulled Qin Han to the table.

"Mr. Qin—my God, please forgive my rudeness." His voice was a little dry, and he swallowed hard. "The underwater story you mentioned on the phone earlier?"

"Yesterday, I had a brief chat with Allen about the script, which is called 'The Little Mermaid'."

"6

Forget about those delicate princesses who just sit in their castles singing and waiting for a prince to come and rescue them on a white horse. That kind of thinking doesn't work in America today.

"Our protagonist, Ariel, is a red-haired mermaid girl who longs for the human world and is full of teenage rebellion."

""

"She was not content with being confined to the ocean by her father. In order to pursue the unknown world, she made a deal with the devil using her most precious voice."

Howard's eyes lit up instantly.

Rebellion against patriarchy! Adolescent rebellion! These are the keys to unlocking the hearts of contemporary American youth!

Qin Han continued his description, every word seemingly tailor-made for him: "Rebellion alone is not enough. We need top-tier pop music elements to package this fairy tale."

Over the next half hour, Qin Han recounted the story of The Little Mermaid to the two of them from beginning to end, explaining the characteristics of each character clearly.

"Pop music, Broadway musical numbers, a rebellious spirit, plus Disney's top-notch animation technology." Qin Han looked directly into Howard's eyes, which were already burning with passion: "This is the story we're about to create."

The resonance between geniuses is extremely terrifying.

Howard Ashman began to tremble.

He grabbed a pencil from the table, jerked his head up, and shouted at the top of his lungs, "This is absolutely a devastating feast!"

"Mr. Qin, you are a genius! Bringing Broadway soul and reggae into Disney animation? This will shatter all stereotypes and have audiences across America shaking their butts in theaters!"

Alan Menken, standing to the side, was also so excited that his fingers unconsciously began to strum in the air.

Looking at these two music fanatics who were completely ignited, Qin Han straightened up with great satisfaction: "I'm the one who provides you with the ammunition."

"You have three days to clean up this mess. Get your rent refunded and forget about those pointless puppet shows."

"After I've finished dealing with everything in New York, fly back to Los Angeles with me."

"Get ready, gentlemen. Embrace your time."

As night falls, the lights of Manhattan come on.

On the top floor of Rockefeller Center, inside the famous "Rainbow House" revolving restaurant, soothing saxophone jazz music flows.

This place and the basement on 42nd Street are two completely different parallel worlds.

Arnold Schwarzenegger sat in a booth by the window, looking slightly cramped.

He deliberately wore his largest size black suit, but because of his muscular physique, it still looked very tight.

Although he was an invincible king in the bodybuilding world, sitting in this upscale restaurant frequented by the wealthy and powerful, facing this young Chinese man who had recently become very popular, still made him a little nervous.

A waiter pushed a silver trolley and placed two tomahawk steaks, each exuding a strong rosemary aroma, in front of the two people.

"This is the best dry-aged tomahawk steak in all of New York, Arnold. I think you should love this kind of food the most."

"Cheers to our meeting in New York."

-

Schwarzenegger raised his glass, and the rich taste of the fine red wine, along with Qin Han's respect, finally allowed the muscular man's tense nerves to slowly relax.

He put down his knife and fork, looked out the window at the galaxy of cars on Fifth Avenue, and sighed deeply.

"Mr. Qin, people in Hollywood think I'm a simple-minded, muscle-bound idiot, and that I only take on those bad movies to make a living."

He gave a self-deprecating bitter laugh and shook his head: "Actually, I don't lack money at all."

"When I first came to the United States, I started a brick and tile construction company with my friends and made my first fortune by taking advantage of the reconstruction after the Los Angeles earthquake."

"After that, I used that money to invest in real estate and to start a mail-order business for bodybuilding equipment. The amount in my bank account is more than enough for me to live comfortably for the rest of my life."

He turned his head and looked at Qin Han with utmost seriousness.

"I stood in front of the camera simply because I love film. I longed to leave my mark on the big screen."

C

"But----"

"In the eyes of those directors, my accent is the biggest joke. I can't do anything but smile at the camera and show off my muscles."

Qin Han was naturally very familiar with Schwarzenegger's situation.

"Arnold, stop this pointless self-pity. You don't need to change your accent; it will be your unique mark in this world."

"What you're missing is a story that amplifies your strengths."

—A script tailor-made for you.

Before Schwarzenegger could react, Qin Han directly unveiled a corner of the greatest sci-fi action masterpiece in film history that was on his mind: "For example, if I asked you to play an assassin—not a human, but a cold-blooded robot!"

"Expressionless, their only guiding principle was to keep firing at the target, and firing again!"

"No matter how many times we are knocked down, we can rise again from the flames and continue to carry out our orders!"

"You represent not heroes, but a devastating, absolute force of destruction!"

In Schwarzenegger's mind, following the depictions of the Qin and Han dynasties, he began to conceive each frame of the scene:

No expression? No emotion? A cold-blooded killing machine?

This not only perfectly concealed the flaw of his stiff facial muscles, but even his rigid and mechanical Austrian accent would become an extremely oppressive mechanical voice under this setting!

Blood surged wildly through his veins, and his massive pectoral muscles heaved violently with extreme excitement.

"Mr. Qin—Hanshi Film Studio—will you really make a movie like this?"

"Han's Films never makes empty promises to anyone."

Qin Han leaned back in his chair and made his promise: "When the time is right, I will get my hands on this script. No one but you is qualified to star in it."

As for now?

James Cameron is probably driving a truck somewhere in America.

The computer technology needed for filming is far from mature, and all of this will only come to fruition after Lucas's Star Wars is released!

After watching this masterpiece, James abandoned his job as a truck driver and officially entered the film industry, injecting a shot of adrenaline into Hollywood.

The creation of Star Wars was just a prelude to bringing American Graffiti to the big screen.

Seeing Qin Han's calm smile, Schwarzenegger was overwhelmed with immense joy, like a tsunami.

After being ridiculed by everyone for a day, he finally met his mentor in this city.

"I swear, I'm at your service whenever you need me!"

Qin Han smiled and waved his hand, then pushed the black envelope with a dark gold octagonal cage pattern in front of the giant.

"We're not really providing services; we're partners. Right now, we do have an opportunity to deepen our understanding of each other."

""

"Take your VIP invitation. On the day of the UFC event, I hope you can sit in the front row, and we can have a proper talk then."

Looking at the invitation, a gift brimming with violent aesthetics, Schwarzenegger burst into excited laughter: "Hahaha! Mr. Qin, you're too kind! It's my honor to witness your and Bruce Lee's epic fight!"

"I'll bring all my bodybuilding champions and powerlifting friends to Los Angeles and book the entire support stand for you and Mr. Li!"