This director only directs blockbusters.

The jolt of the plane landing woke Yang Ning up.

He squinted at the porthole; the sky over Hong Kong was hazy gray, and the sea in the distance shimmered with an iron-gray light.

Xu Qin, who was sitting next to me, had already woken up and was applying lipstick in front of a small mirror.

"Twenty minutes left on the ski run." She closed her makeup mirror. "Jiang Zhiqiang's men are waiting at the exit. Head straight to the hotel; dinner is at seven."

Yang Ning rubbed his temples.

I stayed up until 3 a.m. last night monitoring the rendering in the server room, and only managed to close my eyes after boarding the plane.

Who's at the dinner party?

"Several cinema owners from Hong Kong, the distribution manager from Edko Films, and two local media outlets," Xu Qin said, flipping through her schedule. "Jiang Zhiqiang said they're all family, so there's no need for formalities."

Yang Ning unbuckled his seatbelt: "That's good."

---

The person who picked me up at the airport was a young man in his late twenties who introduced himself as Amin, Jiang Zhiqiang's distant nephew.

He drives a silver Toyota and talks a lot.

"Director Yang, Ms. Xu, you must be tired from your journey," Ah Ming said as he drove.

"Uncle Jiang originally wanted to come and pick you up in person, but he had a meeting this afternoon and couldn't get away. He asked me to make sure to apologize to you both."

"You're too kind." Yang Ning looked out the window.

As the car drove onto the Tsing Ma Bridge, the sea breeze, carrying a salty and damp smell, blew in through the cracks in the car windows.

"Uncle Jiang is particularly keen on this premiere." Ah Ming glanced in the rearview mirror. "He invited the managers of the top 20 cinema chains in Hong Kong, as well as distribution representatives from Malaysia, Singapore, and Thailand. They're all here."

Xu Qin asked, "Are any people coming from North America?"

"Yes, but not many," Amin said. "Two independent theater owners and a Chinese distributor came. Uncle Jiang said the North American market is tough, so we should test the waters with small theaters first."

The car drove to Tsim Sha Tsui and stopped in front of the Langham Hotel.

The doorman opened the door, and the bellhop took the luggage. Ah Ming handed over the room key: "The room is on the ninth floor, a sea view room. Uncle Jiang said you two should rest first, and he'll come to pick you up at 6:30."

---

The room did indeed face the sea, but Victoria Harbour was shrouded in fog in the afternoon, making it difficult to see clearly.

Xu Qin put down her luggage, drew back the curtains and looked around for a while: "The humidity is 85%. It's hard to decide on the actresses' makeup for the premiere tomorrow."

"That's the makeup artist's problem." Yang Ning took off her coat and lay down on the bed.

"You're quite carefree," Xu Qin turned to look at him. "Do you know how many screens those theater owners control tonight?"

"How many?"

"Eighty percent of Hong Kong's total." Xu Qin walked back to the table, opened her laptop, and said, "Jiang Zhiqiang set up this event to let them see the quality of the finished film with their own eyes. If they see it well, they'll get screenings. If they see it badly..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but the meaning was clear.

Yang Ning sat up: "Then let them see. Gold will shine no matter what."

---

At 6:30, Jiang Zhiqiang knocked on the door right on time.

He was wearing a dark blue suit without a tie and looked more relaxed than he did in BJ.

"Let's go, it's not far, we can walk there."

The three walked south along Nathan Road. The streets of Hong Kong were bustling with people in the evening, neon lights gradually lit up, and the air was filled with the smells of cooking oil from tea restaurants and car exhaust.

"This is it." Jiang Zhiqiang stopped in front of an old-style tenement building.

The storefront is unassuming, but stepping inside reveals a hidden gem. Three floors, the wooden staircase creaks underfoot, and old black-and-white photographs of Hong Kong adorn the walls.

The private room was on the top floor, with a large round table, and seven or eight people were already seated. They all stood up when they saw them come in.

"This is Director Yang Ning, and Ms. Xu Qin," Jiang Zhiqiang introduced. "These are Chairman Chen of the Hong Kong Cinema Chain Alliance, General Manager Lin of Edko Films' Distribution Department, and these are distribution representatives from Singapore, Malaysia, and Thailand."

They shook hands with each other and exchanged business cards.

Chairman Chen was in his fifties, bald, wore gold-rimmed glasses, and shook hands very forcefully.

"Director Yang is young," he said. "I've seen the trailer for the film, and the special effects are pretty good."

But a trailer is a trailer, and the finished film is the finished film. Hong Kong audiences are very discerning and not easily fooled.

"Don't worry, audiences everywhere are not easily fooled. I have confidence in this film. So please come and see it; I certainly won't disappoint you," Yang Ning said.

"We definitely have to watch it." Chairman Chen sat down. "But let me make this clear beforehand—during the Lunar New Year season, Hong Kong people will either be traveling or playing cards at home."

Of those going to the cinema, less than three out of ten will actually see a film. If your film doesn't have anything truly substantial, I can't give it many screenings.

"No problem, take a look first, and then we'll talk. If you don't like it, you can do whatever you want with it."

"But if you think it's possible, I hope you can provide more support in terms of screening schedules," Yang Ning said.

The dishes arrived one after another: steamed grouper, typhoon shelter-style stir-fried crab, honey-glazed char siu, and slow-cooked soup. All were authentic Cantonese dishes.

The conversation revolved around industry jargon: revenue sharing, marketing strategies, and piracy control. Yang Ning didn't say much; he mostly listened.

Mr. Lin is the head of the distribution department at Anle Publishing House. He is in his early forties, wears frameless glasses, and speaks slowly and deliberately.

"Director Yang, are there many films being released in mainland China during the Spring Festival?"

"Not many," Yang Ning said. "We were the first to try it."

"Your courage is commendable." President Lin adjusted his glasses. "But market education takes time. The special effects are a major selling point of your film, but whether ordinary viewers will buy into it depends on the story."

"There's a story too, and it might even exceed your expectations," Yang Ning said with a smile. "Of course, I won't spoil it here; you'll have to see for yourself."

Chairman Chen interjected, "We should watch it. But Director Yang, let me ask you one more question—does your film contain any politically sensitive content?"

In Hong Kong, while the censorship is more relaxed, it's not without its limits.

"No," Yang Ning said firmly. "It's just about survival in the apocalypse, the struggle of humanity, individual heroism, and a glimmer of hope at the end. Nothing more. You can rest assured about that; you know, the censorship on the mainland is much stricter."

"That's good." Chairman Chen picked up a piece of char siu. "The media will ask about this at the premiere tomorrow. Prepare your answer."

After a few rounds of drinks, they gradually opened up and started talking more freely.

The Thai distributor is named Somchai, who is in his fifties and can speak a little Mandarin.

"Director Yang, your film might have a chance in Thailand." He took a sip of beer. "Young people in Thailand like to watch special effects blockbusters. But Chinese-language films... haven't sold very well in recent years."

"That's why I need your help even more." Yang Ning raised his glass. "I'm not familiar with the Thai market. You are.

Somchai clinked glasses with him: "No problem, no problem. As long as the film is good enough, I guarantee that Thai cinemas will give it plenty of screenings."

The Singapore representative spoke little, but every word he uttered was true.

"There are many Chinese people in Singapore, but they are also picky about Chinese-language films," he said. "Of the dozen or so Chinese-language films released last year, less than three made money."

If your film is as explosive as the trailer suggests, I can help you secure a prime-time slot during the Spring Festival.