"As provincial TV stations across mainland China have begun satellite broadcasting in recent years, the television industry is entering a period of remarkable growth. This is the best opportunity for the Jins书 system to rise to prominence. After all, the threshold for entering the TV market in China is far lower than for films, yet the demand is far greater. However, other capital players won't miss this opportunity either. For Jins书 to stand out, it needs sufficient competitiveness.
"In my view, the core competitiveness of Jins书 should lie in the professionalization of every aspect of the television and film pipeline, from project incubation to production, marketing, and distribution. The goal is to form a mature and integrated industry chain."
"You must remember: this is a business."
"Any business needs excellent products to succeed, but beyond that, you must also minimize costs during production and maximize visibility during marketing. The ultimate goal is, of course, to generate higher returns."
"Now, you might be wondering, how exactly do you do that? Can I teach you more than just these broad concepts?"
"Of course, I know how to do it—I've climbed up from the very bottom. While the entertainment industries in the U.S. and China are vastly different, at their core, business principles remain the same. However, I don't have the time to teach you everything. I only care about results."
"If you have the drive, given the positions you currently hold and the resources at your disposal within the Westeros system, you can learn any professional methodology you need. Again, I only look at results. If you succeed, I'll reward you handsomely—more than you can imagine. Due to various regulatory restrictions in China, the Westeros system cannot hold a majority stake in most Jins书 companies. I hope the shares will instead go to the people who are actually doing the work. Of course, if you fail, you get nothing. I firmly believe that rewards should be proportional to effort."
In the study of the West Lake villa, Simon wasn't there to build rapport. He dove straight into business, primarily delivering his thoughts to the top executives of Jins书 Media.
Toward the end of the meeting, Simon flipped through a document Lin Su had delivered earlier, then continued: "The final topic is Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils (Tianlong Babu). This is one of my favorite novels, and in fact, I enjoy most of Jin Yong's works. So, aside from the business aspect, I want this project to reflect my personal passion. I want it to be treated as a true work of art.
"Fortunately, this project is a three-way collaboration between Hong Kong's TVB, mainland China's CCTV, and us. That means it's not purely a commercial venture, but something with greater cultural significance. Achieving the best quality aligns perfectly with my personal aspirations."
"Since this is my personal passion project, let's talk budget. I'm committing $15 million."
Hearing this, Wu Shanlin and Luo Qian, along with the others seated across from Simon, couldn't help but be taken aback.
Fifteen million dollars—roughly 120 million yuan.
For a TV series expected to run about 40 episodes, this was unprecedented. To put it in perspective, CCTV's ongoing production of Water Margin (Outlaws of the Marsh), a nationally funded prestige project, had a budget of less than 60 million yuan. Moreover, Simon's $15 million was just the portion coming from Jins书 Media. The contributions from CCTV and TVB hadn't even been factored in yet.
Such a lavish investment made it clear: Simon wasn't expecting to make a profit.
Simon allowed the executives a moment to digest this information before handing the document to Wu Shanlin. "So, there's no need to rush production. Two to three years is fine—treat it like how CCTV produced the Four Great Classical Novels. Choose the best actors and the most capable production teams.
"Finally, there's this." Simon tapped the document. "I'll be personally donating a set of digital filming and post-production equipment for this project. The centerpiece is Sony's latest digital camera, capable of 1920x1080 resolution—cinematic-grade HD. Well, not entirely; the vertical resolution is closer to 800 pixels and requires additional hardware adjustments to improve quality. But it's already far superior to the current standard of 640x420 for most TV productions. I want you to find a suitable team to start practicing with this equipment as soon as possible."
For Simon, one of the biggest regrets about past adaptations of classic works—including CCTV's Jin Yong series—was the poor image quality. Stunning landscapes, beautiful costumes, and dramatic scenes all lost their impact due to the grainy visuals.
This time, Simon intended to address that issue.
By leveraging CCTV's extensive national resources, Hong Kong's professional production expertise, and Jins书 Media's deep pockets, Simon wanted to create a definitive version of Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils. This adaptation would set the gold standard: there would be no Jin Yong series before it, and none better after.
The foundation for this vision was picture quality.
In the original timeline, the first 1080p digital cinema camera wasn't released until 2000, developed by Sony at George Lucas's request for Star Wars. However, the technology for such cameras had long been available. This time, thanks to the success of Tinkerbell's i-Cam series, the digital imaging industry had advanced more rapidly. Major electronics companies had increased investment, and Sony had released a 2-megapixel, 1080p professional digital camera three years ahead of schedule.
While this camera still lagged behind traditional film in quality, it was a massive improvement over the 420p standard for TV production at the time. Even though TV broadcasts of the era would compress the footage, shooting in 1080p ensured the series would remain visually stunning decades into the future.
To support this initiative, Simon was donating three of Sony's newest digital cameras, along with a full suite of lenses, storage accessories, and post-production equipment. The total value of the donation was $1.8 million—nearly 15 million yuan—enough to produce two or three low-budget TV series in China at the time.
As the executives crowded around the equipment list, Simon asked, "By the way, have you spoken with Zhang about this? What did he say?"
The "Zhang" in question was Zhang Jizhong, also known as "Big Beard Zhang."
At this point, Zhang was still working within the state broadcasting system and was the executive producer of CCTV's Water Margin.
Fortunately, Water Margin was nearing completion, and CCTV had no shortage of producers. Inviting Zhang to helm Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils was an opportunity he couldn't refuse, given the project's significance.
Simon hoped Zhang would not only take charge of this series but also oversee future Jin Yong adaptations.
In the original timeline, Simon had always been baffled by the criticism and even vitriol directed at Zhang's adaptations of Jin Yong's works. Both as an industry insider and as a viewer, Simon considered Zhang's versions to be the best—bar none. Nostalgia for the 90s Hong Kong versions wasn't about aesthetics; it was purely sentimentality.
Wu Shanlin replied eagerly, "Zhang has already agreed, boss. We've been meeting with him regularly, and he's very eager to meet you as well. Unfortunately, we couldn't arrange that this time."
"That's fine," Simon said. "If he's willing, consider bringing him into Jins书 Media officially."
"He's expressed interest in that," Wu Shanlin said. "I'll follow up with him when I return."
"Go ahead."
By mid-morning, Simon had wrapped up all his meetings and began his journey back. Lin Su stayed behind to spend more time with her family, planning to return to North America after the Lantern Festival.
As Simon's Boeing 767 ascended into the sky, he retreated to his onboard office to review another matter.
Once again, it was the "Westeros Effect."
Coincidentally, on February 4—the day after Simon arrived in China—South Korea's 14th-largest company and its second-largest steel producer, Hanbo Steel, suddenly declared bankruptcy. The news sent shockwaves through South Korea's stock market, triggering declines that spread to Japan, Singapore, and other Southeast Asian markets.
The collapse of Hanbo Steel, and the broader Hanbo Group, stemmed primarily from unsustainable debt.
To fuel its rapid expansion, Hanbo Steel had financed 98% of its projects through loans from domestic and international financial institutions, using only 2% of its own capital. This 50x leverage, much of it obtained through questionable means, left the company highly vulnerable. When its cash flow dried up, the entire Hanbo Group came crashing down.
The timing couldn't have been worse.
While South Korea was also celebrating the Lunar New Year, its government scrambled to manage the fallout. To prevent the $7 billion debt of Hanbo Group from triggering a systemic financial crisis, the government injected 1 trillion won ($1.2 billion) to stabilize the situation.
This was just the beginning.
Since the 1980s, Southeast Asia's economic boom had led to over-investment across industries. This not only drained domestic wealth but also forced investors to borrow heavily from international markets, creating a dangerous debt bubble.
Debt, however, must eventually be repaid.
When repayments fail, companies go bankrupt. If the resulting bad debts
overwhelm financial institutions, those institutions risk collapse as well.
The Hanbo incident was a warning shot. While South Korea managed to contain the immediate damage, other countries in the region—particularly Thailand—were also showing signs of trouble.
During the 10-hour flight, Simon reviewed a thick stack of analysis reports on Southeast Asia's economy but chose not to intervene directly.
He would remain a detached observer for now.
Simon had already allocated $3 billion to Soros and allowed Cersei Capital to manage additional positions. As long as the overarching strategy was sound, Simon saw no need to micromanage.
This time, Simon's primary focus was South Korea.
Though Japan's economy was even more enticing, its scale and insular nature made it difficult to penetrate. South Korea, on the other hand, was more accessible.
The looming crisis would force South Korea to open its economy further, and with a GDP of around $600 billion, its market was well within the Westeros system's appetite.
Most importantly, South Korea's key industries—electronics, shipbuilding, construction, and entertainment—aligned perfectly with Simon's long-term plans.
For electronics, Simon intended to prevent South Korea from developing a full industrial chain. Companies like Samsung would be limited to specific sectors—perhaps semiconductors or displays, but not both.
For shipbuilding and construction, South Korea's global leadership and cost advantages made these sectors highly attractive.
And in entertainment, Simon planned to dominate completely—music, film, television, and gaming.
South Korea would serve as the perfect cultural bridgehead for the Greater China region. While China's entertainment market needed time to mature, and Japan remained too insular, South Korea was an ideal fit. Control over its entertainment sector would provide both cultural influence and strategic leverage.
Of course, the occasional indulgence—like playing with an idol or two—would simply be a bonus.
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