In order to make money and earn foreign exchange, Zhou Qingfeng can be said to do everything. He went through the laws and picked out the simpler and feasible ones.

The 'environmental' industry is the most enduring and indispensable for human existence. Now that the comics are all printed, then film and television products should also follow.

The girl with the stage name 'Susu' went to the bathroom and came back again five minutes later. She filmed "The Survivor Next Door". The original painting is twelve volumes, but the screenwriter I found is very good at irrigating, and it won't be finished without filming fifty or sixty episodes.

Each episode is about half an hour, short and concise, and the content is compact, equivalent to a serial.

Because of this drama, the midnight show of HK cinemas has been extremely popular recently, and the entire East Asian cinema chain has set off a craze.

Hearing that the video tape can earn a lot of foreign exchange, Xiao Jinlang couldn't help but be distracted. He glanced at Director Chen who came with him, and his heart was pounding, and he actually had the idea of shooting more and earning more.

"Do you want to write this in the report?" Chen Mu asked in a low voice.

Lao Xiao was still awkward and disgusted just now, but after a while, he regarded 'Su Su' as a good girl who dedicated herself to the development of the country. He didn't even look at Chen, and said honestly like a pine: "If you want to write, you write." I don't think I saw it. ”

Xiao Jinlang, you old fox!

Director Chen thought to himself, "How do you ask me to write this?" If something goes wrong and the boss blames it, who is it? Didn't I discuss with you and unify my voice? ”

The studio for the warehouse renovation worked late. The crew is all night owls, and the more late they are at night, the more energetic they become. Lao Xiao watched the shooting, and he really gained knowledge, but he still came out after staying for half an hour.

"Ouyang, didn't Mr. Zhou come to HK? Where the hell is he? ”

Ouyang Jun also spread his hands, "I don't know." When I went ashore, I called Mr. Zhou's number in HK, but I couldn't get through.

The wharf received the goods and said that the 'environmental protection' industry has been booming recently, and HK has produced a lot of inferior pirated copies, which has caused us a lot of losses. The president came this time to deal with piracy. ”

Piracy?

Loss?

Xiao Jinlang was suddenly furious, and even Director Chen on the side was furious.

Is it easy for Lao Tzu to earn some foreign exchange? I don't want to lose face, and I worked hard to find a way to make a fortune. It's only been a few days since someone came to grab food, and I'm impatient.

"Who's so bold?" Director Chen hurriedly asked, "Do you want to help?" The mainland still has some influence in HK. ”

Ouyang shrank his neck, shook his head and said, "I don't know very well, it is said to be a group of poor and crazy Vietnamese."

They are bold, they are not afraid of death, and they do whatever they make money. Mr. Zhou only said 'oh' after knowing this, and then disappeared.

The local staff at HK said that it was not us who should be worried about now, but the Vietnamese. They were even very happy, as if they were waiting to see a good show. ”

Lao Xiao and Chen Chu glanced at each other, completely incomprehensible.

In the 70s, with the end of the 'Vietnam War' and the withdrawal of US troops from South Vietnam, a large number of Vietnamese refugees fled to Hong Kong. These people were poor and miserable, and they often fought in the downtown area, which caused considerable chaos in law and order for a while.

Because the poor have only one rotten life left, Vietnamese overseas migrants have traditionally lived at the bottom of the ladder. Their footprints are all over the world, giving outsiders the feeling of 'black and thin, forbearing, and fierce'.

This time, I saw that the 'environmental protection' cartoons on the market came out quickly, and there was no technical content, and some people wanted to get a piece of the pie.

The HK local gang was beaten twice by Zhou Qingfeng. Especially the second time he washed the mourning hall in blood, the entire hall disappeared without a trace overnight, which really frightened many people.

But the Vietnamese were not intimidated. They have a closed circle, hardly communicate with the outside world, don't care or even hear the rumors in the market, and only see the opportunity to make money.

So in the middle of the night, a 'Jialing' motorcycle carrying a young man rumbled towards the northern district of the New Territories. This is an area close to the Shenzhen River, and a large amount of farmland is still preserved thirty years later.

With no GPS and no familiarity with the roads, the young man walked around the residential buildings in the North District with a map. It took a long time to find a cluttered residential area.

The dilapidated streets are mostly built from the fifties and sixties. The signs on the shops are lacking in brushstrokes, and I don't see anything to do with the cosmopolitan city.

It was late at night, and only the warblers standing on the street were walking around. Occasionally, people appear in the market, either salty wet guys who are looking for fun, or unruly little ruffians.

The young man stopped in front of the warbler on a motorcycle, took out a large amount of Hong Kong dollars, and beckoned.

"Boss, come with me." The scantily clad warbler carried a small bag and walked up to the young man with his feet on his feet. She couldn't see the young man's helmeted face, so she could only glance at the other man's motorcycle.

This motorcycle is so big, it is larger than the normal 'Jialing' motorcycle. Its shape has also undergone some changes to become more streamlined. The engine is more muffled and represents a lot of power.

The young man didn't get out of the car and stuffed the money into the button of his underwear on Liuying's chest.

He didn't take off his helmet either, he just spread out the map in his hand and asked, "I'm in an underground printing factory, which should have been opened by Vietnamese, but I don't know where it is?" ”

Hearing that she was looking for a Vietnamese, the warbler turned around and left.

The young man grabbed his arm and forced the warbler to turn around, begging, "Big brother, give you back the money." I don't want to cause trouble. ”

"You're in trouble." The young man pressed his hand and asked, "Either you tell where that underground printing house is?" Or do I pinch off your hand? You pick one. ”

The young man's strength pinched the warbler and shook his head vigorously. The other warblers in the market were frightened.

It didn't take long for two skinny little ruffians to run out of the dark corner, pointing at the young man and scolding, "Decrepit boy, don't make trouble." If you don't play with women, hurry up and get out. ”

It was only then that the young man realized that he seemed to have reached the territory of the target group, because the Cantonese accents of the two little ruffians were obviously strange.

"I'm looking for an underground printing shop, and I guess there are a few old machines, seven or eight workers, led by a group of Vietnamese."

The young man stepped forward on his motorcycle and grabbed the little ruffian on his left by the throat. The little ruffian on the right didn't see the opponent's movements clearly, and immediately realized that something was wrong, turned around and ran, shouting along the way.

The young man stunned the little ruffian in his hand. The heavy motorcycle unhurriedly followed the fleeing one, and turned into the alley next to the community street.

The alley is narrow, less than two meters wide.

There is domestic sewage flowing from the ground, and the sewer pipes here must have been blocked.

There were a number of drying racks on both sides of the alley, and the escaped ruffians were screaming and pulling the dried clothes to the ground. The tires of the heavy-duty motorcycle run over all the way, splashing sewage and leaving clear wheel marks.

At the end of the alley was an open house, and from behind the rusty tin door came several thin, short, but fierce fellows. They heard the ruffian's cry and pounced on the fellow.

The tin house is quite large, and under the light, you can see several working printing presses in it. The sound of paper printing is incessant, and it is very rhythmic.

When the young man's motorcycle drove forward, a fierce leader burst out of the tin house, holding an AKM-47 in his hand, screaming viciously.

It's scary.

Finally in the right place.