My teacher is Bruce Lee, who dominated Hollywood.

Chapter 7 A True Dragon Hidden in a Ragged Car

"nailed it?"

"nailed it."

Qin Han walked to the wine cabinet, poured himself a glass of ice water, and quenched his thirst.

"In three days, Lorna will arrange for Universal Pictures Vice President Sidney Sinberg to meet with us."

Bruce Lee stroked his chin: "Three days... that's a bit tight."

"Ah Han, since we're going to meet with the top executives at Global, we need to have some leverage. My face alone probably won't be enough to get them to spend money."

"Master is right," Qin Han nodded. "Those people in Hollywood are the type who won't act until they see results."

Now, kung fu movies are like novel toys in Chinatown grocery stores in their eyes—attractive enough, but not enough to prove they can fetch a good price.

He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked down at the dazzling night view of Los Angeles, a bustling scene of cars and people, flowing with countless amounts of money and desire.

"If we follow the conventional approach and beg Universal to buy the distribution rights to 'The Big Boss,' the buyout fee would be at most ten or twenty thousand US dollars, which is too little."

Bruce Lee walked up to him, put his arm around his shoulder, and said, "So what are your plans? Stop beating around the bush."

Qin Han laughed: "The most valuable things in the world are often free."

"Free?" Bruce Lee clearly did not understand Qin Han's meaning.

"That's right. We don't need Universal to pay even a penny in copyright fees. In fact, Golden Harvest covers all the costs of converting the film, dubbing it into English, and re-editing the promotional materials."

"On this condition, we will sign a performance-based agreement with Global."

Bruce Lee frowned, not interrupting his student, his eyes becoming incredibly focused.

"We'll shoulder all the upfront risks. Universal just needs to provide theater resources and distribution channels." Excitement gleamed in Qin Han's eyes.

"In exchange, we want a share of the box office revenue, at least 10% of the total profits of 'The Big Boss' in North America."

"Of that 10%, 3% must belong to you personally, Master, as your 'Hollywood Special Consultant Fee'."

Bruce Lee remained silent. Although he was focused on martial arts, he was also very familiar with the film industry.

In 1973, the cost of importing a foreign-language film in the United States was not low.

Re-dubbing, making copies, posters and promotion—all these things combined will cost at least $8 to $10.

If Golden Harvest were to bear all the costs, it would mean that a huge sum of money would have to be spent before the film was even released in North America.

If they only take 7%, working backwards, this movie would need to make at least $150 million in profit for Golden Harvest to break even.

"Boss Zou can only make money if he earns more than $150 million in profit," Bruce Lee muttered to himself, a rare moment of hesitation on his face.

In this day and age, it's a miracle for a non-English film to gross over a million dollars, let alone make a net profit.

This will be a huge gamble.

If they lost, Golden Harvest would suffer a double loss, becoming a laughing stock in Hollywood.

"Master, don't you have confidence in yourself?" Qin Han asked rhetorically.

"Of course I'm confident." Bruce Lee smiled proudly when talking about his movies. "Even if Martians watched my movies, they would applaud."

"That's right." Qin Han pressed his advantage. "Mr. Raymond Chow is a smart man. He was stifled at Shaw Brothers for so many years, and then he came out to start his own business. What was his purpose? Wasn't it to promote the films he admired to the world?"

"Now, the door to Hollywood has been opened a crack; once you step through, a whole new world awaits!"

"And..." his voice was full of confidence, "once this movie explodes at the box office, Warner Bros.' attitude will definitely change immediately!"

"At that time, the initiative will be in our hands."

The hesitation in Bruce Lee's eyes was gradually burned away by a flame called "desire".

He was so eager to prove himself.

Not just in Hong Kong, but also in Hollywood, the city that had once rejected and discriminated against him.

He wants to show the world what true Chinese Kung Fu is!

Bruce Lee turned and walked to the telephone, grabbed the receiver, and quickly dialed the dial: "Han, this involves Golden Harvest's hard-earned money. I can't make the decision for Boss Zou; he has to come here in person."

The call connected, and the operator's sweet voice came through.

"Connecting to Hong Kong, Golden Harvest Film Company President's Office. This is Bruce Lee."

The person in charge of Jiahe across the ocean was even more charismatic than Qin Han had anticipated.

Raymond Chow, the man who single-handedly built the Golden Harvest empire and dared to snatch food from Run Run Shaw's jaws, boarded a flight to Los Angeles within four hours of receiving a call from Bruce Lee.

……

As night falls, crowds throng the exits of Los Angeles International Airport.

Because of the upcoming Oscars season, this place has been particularly crowded lately.

A beat-up Chevrolet made a "coughing" sound as it pulled up on the side of the road at the airport arrival area, attracting the attention of several luxury car drivers nearby.

This is the best car Qin Han can afford to rent.

"Master, I'm sorry to trouble you." He said somewhat apologetically, "Lona's car was impounded, so we'll have to make do for now."

"A car is just a means of transportation; as long as it works, that's fine." Bruce Lee took off his sunglasses and looked at the exit through the windshield. "Boss Zou should be coming out soon."

A few minutes later, a middle-aged man wearing a dark gray suit and gold-rimmed glasses came out.

He was not tall, a little chubby, and always had a shrewd smile on his face, his eyes quickly scanning the crowd of people waiting to pick him up.

It was Raymond Chow, the head of Golden Harvest.

Behind him followed a young assistant, pushing a luggage cart.

"Raymond!" Bruce Lee pushed open the car door, got out, and waved as he called out.

Upon hearing the familiar voice, Raymond Chow immediately walked over quickly.

He opened his arms and hugged Bruce Lee: "Brother, you've worked hard. How did it go? How were the negotiations with Warner?"

"It's a long story, let's talk in the car. This is the apprentice I mentioned to you on the phone, Qin Han."

Qin Han had already gotten out of the car and politely took the bag from Zou Wenhuai's hand: "Hello, Mr. Zou, I've long admired your name."

Raymond Chow adjusted his glasses and looked at Chin Han.

He could tell at a glance that this young man had a different temperament from ordinary martial artists, but his posture and eyes also revealed a toughness.

"Hmm, not bad, a handsome man." Raymond Chow nodded, and was about to get into the car when he stopped.

The Chevrolet in front of me looked particularly pitiful under the streetlights, with its mottled paint and even several layers of black tape wrapped around the door handles.

As a bigwig in the Hong Kong film industry, even during the most difficult early days of his business, he had never ridden in a car of this caliber.

He glanced at Bruce Lee, then at Qin Han, who was standing to the side, struggling to stuff his luggage into the trunk.

"Ah Long, you told me on the phone that your apprentice is very capable, and that he's your right-hand man in Hollywood."

He pointed to the Chevrolet that looked like it might fall apart at any moment:

"If you're so capable, why did you send such a piece of junk to pick me up?"

Just as Bruce Lee was about to explain, Qin Han slammed the trunk shut, dusted off his hands, and turned around calmly.

"Zou Sheng, as the saying goes, 'A fine sword is given to a hero, and a broken cart hides a true dragon.'"

"This car may be old and worn out, but it can take us to earn that million dollars, don't you think?"

Zou Wenhuai looked at the humble yet confident young man in front of him, his eyes behind his glasses narrowing slightly.

A few seconds later, he suddenly burst into laughter, his voice hearty, all his previous disdain gone.

"What a 'hidden dragon in a wrecked car'! Ah Long, your apprentice is quite something!"

He no longer showed any disgust, and with a quick bow, he crawled into the musty-smelling carriage, not forgetting to call out to his assistant:

"What are you standing there for? Get in the car! You want to walk to the hotel?"