My teacher is Bruce Lee, who dominated Hollywood.

Chapter 186 Return to Hawaii

Sidney Sinberg sat frozen in the large boss's chair, the Cuban cigar in his hand having slipped from his grasp with a "thud."

It fell onto the carpet with a thud.

A charred hole was burned into the carpet, sending up a wisp of acrid smoke, but the Hollywood mogul who had just been yelling into the phone was completely oblivious.

On the screen, the haggard-looking old man with droopy eye bags sat behind the famous Resolute Desk in the Oval Office of the White House.

The highest authority in the United States of America, addressing tens of millions of television viewers across the country, recited his political epitaph in a weary tone.

"I hope my resignation will accelerate America's healing process. This is what our nation needs most right now—"

The Qin and Han dynasties observed this political upheaval that would be recorded in human history: this was already the best possible outcome.

Thanks to his fabricated image as a counter-terrorism hero, Nixon did indeed weather the devastating media storm that followed the release of the Watergate tapes.

But as long as the evidence from that tape remains, once the independent prosecutor and Congress launch a judicial investigation, the lies, cover-ups, and obstruction of justice hidden beneath the surface will eventually be brutally torn apart layer by layer.

Nixon was an extremely shrewd and pragmatic old politician. He preserved his last shred of dignity and did not choose to fight to the bitter end in the White House like a maddened beast, letting Congress's impeachment hammer shatter his last bit of dignity.

Resigning voluntarily may seem like surrendering, but it is actually the most precise way to cut off one's own arm to survive.

He used relinquishing the presidency as leverage to stop the judicial strangulation: the laws of this country have always been very flexible.

He preserved his historical status as a mastermind in the great power game and an icebreaker in the East. His political enemies got the power they wanted, so naturally they stopped relentlessly pursuing and uprooting the entire Republican Party.

With this old man's departure from office, Washington's political scene is about to experience a magnitude 10 earthquake.

Those "Japanese gangs" who took dirty money from Japanese conglomerates have been severely weakened by the recent crackdown.

Now, the new government is eager to demonstrate its determination to fight corruption and its new image to the public, and these remnants of the old regime will definitely be further weakened.

As for his successor—a hint of amusement appeared in Qin Han's eyes.

According to constitutional order, the next vice president to enter the White House is Gerald Ford, who is known as the "best-tempered" US president in history.

In an effort to mend the nation's wounds, the first thing the new president did upon taking office was to announce an unconditional pardon for his predecessor.

This uproary of politics is about to come to an end in an extremely frustrating yet helpless way.

"My God—what's wrong with this country?"

Sidney finally snapped out of his shock, stomped out the still-smoking cigar on the carpet, and vigorously rubbed his already thinning hair with both hands.

"Qin, did you see the news? The president has resigned! The stock market is definitely going to crash tomorrow morning! Consumer confidence will plummet!"

"Families who originally planned to spend a pleasant evening at the movies this weekend will probably all be huddled on the sofa like quails, staring blankly at the TV!"

"The entertainment industry is going to have a winter! We poured so much money into Game of Death, and that damn teen movie by Lucas—"

"Calm down, Sidney," Qin Han calmly advised, watching the news on TV. "Stocks will indeed fall, the dollar may depreciate, and people will completely lose faith in Washington politicians. But for us, this is not a winter, but rather an unprecedented golden age."

When reality becomes incredibly ugly, and lies and deception fill newspaper headlines, where can people find solace?

He bent his index finger and tapped the table twice, making a crisp "knock knock" sound.

"The movie theater. That sanctuary where you can escape reality for two hours in the dark for just a few dollars."

"The emptiness after the collapse of faith needs to be filled with extremely strong emotions. In *Game of Death*, the underdog triumphs over the strong..."

The violent aesthetics that break down class barriers; the idyllic 1960s depicted in *American Graffiti*; and the sensory stimulation in *Jaws* that allows you to release all your stress through screams.

"These are the very things that this country, filled with anger and confusion, needs most."

Sidney stopped pacing and looked at the Chinese man who was thirty years younger than him. Instead of fear, his eyes gleamed with extreme excitement.

Clearly, that's what he truly believes!

"So, put aside your panic and focus all your energy on Studios Seven and Eight." Qin Han straightened up. "Keep a close eye on Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's scenes; we only have less than two months. For any resources that need to be coordinated, call Michael directly."

"And what about you?" Sidney pressed.

"Me?" Qin Han glanced at the cloudless California blue sky outside the window: "Since there's been an earthquake in Washington, it's time to go to Hawaii again."

Honolulu, Hawaii.

Qin Han rode in a convertible westward along the coastal highway and entered the private beach area of ​​the Hilton Resort Hotel.

On the soft white sand beach, there were no crowded tourists. Several burly bodyguards wearing sunglasses were spread out vigilantly under the shade of the surrounding palm trees.

Under a huge white parasol in the middle of the beach, a man, shirtless and with his back to the sun, strummed a wooden guitar.

When Qin Han approached on the sand, he didn't even immediately recognize the figure from behind. The once bloated and obese body had undergone an astonishing transformation.

The thick layer of fat has completely disappeared, replaced by muscle lines that subtly emerge with each playing motion.

The vibrant life force that once belonged to the "King of Rock" is now burning anew within this body.

Hearing footsteps, the man stopped playing the zither and turned around: "Qin! You've arrived!"

Upon seeing the person approaching, Elvis immediately put down his guitar, jumped up from the beach chair, strode forward, and gave Qin Han a solid hug.

"Look at your physique, Elvis." Qin Han felt the strength in the other's arm. "If those tabloid paparazzi took a picture of you now, female fans all over America would probably flock to Caesars Palace in Las Vegas to buy tickets tomorrow."

"To hell with Caesars Palace, I haven't decided whether I want to go back yet!" Elvis burst into a hearty laugh, pulling Qin Han to sit down under the parasol.

He picked up a bottle of mineral water from the ice bucket next to him, instead of his usual indispensable whiskey, and tilted his head back to gulp it down.

One mouthful.

"Right now—I feel like I'm twenty years old again, back when I was recording my first album at Sun Studios."

"I don't care about box office numbers, I don't care if those crazy fans tear my clothes. I just live for music."

"So, are you ready to accept the new challenge?" Qin Han took out a cassette tape from his briefcase and gently placed it on the rattan round table.

"Is this the big project you've mentioned to me countless times on the phone?" Elvis picked up the cassette tape, a strong curiosity flashing in his deep blue eyes: "Disney animated film soundtrack? Good heavens, you actually got the King of Rock to sing lullabies to a bunch of kids."

"Listen to what I say before you draw a conclusion."

Elvis snapped his fingers, and his bodyguard immediately brought over a portable tape recorder, pushed the cassette into the cassette slot, and pressed play.

The first sound wasn't the melodious yet somber symphony found in traditional Disney animation, but rather a very lively Caribbean steel drum percussion.

Accompanied by the crisp sound of the marimba, a strong tropical island atmosphere instantly filled the air.

This is what Alan Menken and Howard Ashman worked on for several days and nights in a recording studio in Los Angeles.

First version of Demo.

Elvis Presley's casual sitting posture instantly straightened. As a master who perfectly blended black rhythm and blues with white country music, his sensitivity to rhythm was almost ingrained in his bones.

The moment he heard that chord, his right foot started tapping uncontrollably on the sand.

"The seaweed is always greener, In somebody else's lake——

When Howard's voice mimicked a crab's tone and sang his lines, Elvis immediately grabbed the acoustic guitar beside him and his fingers flew across the strings: "Good heavens, Qin! You've given me another surprise!"

He shouted excitedly, and his fingers plucked the strings harder and harder.

His body swayed to the beat, and with his incredibly magnetic voice, he drowned out the vocals from the recording and began to improvise.

"Under the sea! Under the sea!"

It was a completely new attempt, distinct from classic rock, that perfectly blended the weight of soul music with the lightness of Caribbean music.

Even the bodyguards standing around couldn't help but sway their shoulders slightly to the infectious rhythm.

When the song ended, he opened his eyes, panting heavily, with a layer of glistening sweat on his forehead and a terrifying light burning in his eyes.

"Genius—the person who wrote this piece is absolutely a fucking genius!" He grabbed Qin Han's arm with astonishing force.

"I'm going to sing this song! Not only this one, but I'll take over the entire soundtrack of 'The Little Mermaid' and handle all the production." Qin Han smiled and pushed the cassette tape in front of Elvis: "It's yours, Elvis. Get ready, fly back to Los Angeles next month, and we'll go into the studio to record together."

After confirming that the animated film's biggest musical weapon was in place, Qin Han declined Elvis Presley's invitation to dinner, got into a rented Chevrolet sedan, and drove away from the bustling tourist area of ​​Waikiki Beach, heading towards the slums on the west side.

More than an hour later, the car stopped in front of an old building: the Pacific Veterans Home.

Pushing open the creaking wooden door and stepping into the stuffy hall, the previously noisy room fell into a brief silence.

A dozen or so veterans, some with disabilities and some even in wheelchairs, were gathered around a billiard table with a missing corner.

They stopped playing golf and looked at the young Asian man in a suit who seemed out of place in his surroundings, but soon someone recognized him.

"Sir!" A veteran who had lost his left arm suddenly stood up straight, and even though his body was hunched over, he still managed to give Qin Han a military salute with his right hand.

The other veterans also stopped what they were doing, their rough faces revealing a deep respect.

A few months ago, it was this young man in front of them who led them to precisely hunt down Japanese assassins during a beach party.

More importantly, he brought his brothers who were still capable of fighting to Los Angeles, where they regained their dignity as soldiers.

Qin Han smiled and nodded to the veterans, then walked straight through the hall to the medical area at the back.

In a stuffy hospital room, an old electric fan was emitting a sickening buzzing sound.

General Samuel, wearing a military green vest, was bending over and gently wiping the atrophied legs of an old comrade who was paralyzed from the waist down.

Hearing footsteps, he straightened up, threw the towel into the basin, and casually wiped his calloused hands on his trousers.

"With that outfit of yours, walking on my turf makes you look like a damned sitting duck, Qin." The old general's voice was still rough, but his eyes gleamed with undisguised joy.

"So, I'm here today to dismantle this firing range." Qin Han walked to the bedside, pulled a thick file folder from his pocket, and handed it to Samuel: "Take a look at this."

Samuel suspiciously untied the seal on the document bag.

The first document is a land title deed issued by the Hawaii State Land Administration. It clearly states that a prime piece of land, located on the outskirts of Honolulu, nestled against the mountains and facing the sea, covering a full twenty acres, has been transferred to a fund called the "Hans Veterans Fund".

Next came a stack of complex architectural blueprints.

The facility boasts a modern rehabilitation center, independent convalescent apartments equipped with state-of-the-art barrier-free facilities, an underwater therapy pool with a constant temperature system, and even a quiet garden specifically designed for veterans with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

At the very bottom of these documents was a Citibank cashier's check.

"A month from now, I will deposit one million into this account as funding for the first phase of the project."

The old general's fingers, which were holding the promissory note, began to tremble uncontrollably.

In this dilapidated welfare home, he had seen too many politicians come here before elections to put on a show, make countless empty promises, and then leave without a trace after the flashing lights.

When Qin Han promised to build the best sanatorium for the veterans on the island, Samuel was grateful, but deep down he only thought it was a boastful remark made by a young man in the heat of the moment.

But now, land deeds, blueprints, and real money have all been dumped in front of him.

"This is the money taken from the box office revenue sharing of the first installment of 'Enter the Dragon'." Qin Han looked at the disabled veterans lying on the simple hospital beds.

"You will personally oversee this money, and Han's Film Industry will make up the difference if it's insufficient. I believe this will be of even greater use in the future."

As more and more people returned to the United States from the Vietnam War, Qin Han believed that the welfare home would soon become a profitable place—unlike the veterans who had helped him establish Han's Security, who enjoyed high-quality welfare facilities for free.

Samuel calmed himself down, took out the flask he always carried, and twisted it open with his teeth: "To Mr. Han."

"Respect for veterans," Qin Han said with a smile.

"I've accepted the land deed and blueprints, Qin. You've kept your promise so quickly, you're a good lad."

"I was wondering why Bill suddenly sent a telegram saying he wanted our distinguished guest to stay on the island for a few more days. Turns out he was talking about you!"

Qin Han's eyes narrowed slightly: "Why did he make me stay here?"

"Because he's flying over to see you in person, and he's not coming alone. He's accompanied by Richard Nixon, who just gave his resignation speech."