mijobooks Chapter 104 Uprooted
Chapter 104 Uprooted
Chapter 104 Uprooted
Am I mistaken?
After a moment's thought, Qin Han understood the meaning behind Fred's words.
Yes, that's politics: in the giant arena of Washington, money is a universal bargaining chip, but at the real top-level games, the exchange of interests is the core.
If a "political donation" can hand someone a sharp knife to stab their political enemy, or provide them with a stepping stone to gain a foothold in factional struggles, then its value is far greater than boxes of greenbacks.
As his gaze swept past the rapidly receding California palm trees outside the window, Qin Han's thoughts drifted to the future, more than a decade from now.
It now appears that MacArthur's followers, who view Japan as their "own son," remain an incredibly powerful force within the Pentagon and the CIA.
So the fact that the Reagan administration was able to gather such a powerful force to force the Japanese to sign the Plaza Accord means that the power dynamics at the top of the White House had undergone a huge reversal in the past decade.
Some people want to keep a dog to guard the house, while others complain that the dog barks too loudly and may even want to kill the dog for meat.
As long as we can find those who want to "eat meat" in advance and hand them the knife, the petty actions of the Japanese right wing are nothing more than a mantis trying to stop a chariot.
"Fred," Qin Han withdrew his gaze, feigning ignorance, "Is the infighting among those bigwigs in Washington really that intense these days?"
Fred had just opened the freezer in the car refrigerator when he heard this, and let out a sarcastic sneer.
"Intense?" He picked up two swim chunks and tossed them into his crystal glass. "Qin, 'intense' is far too mild a word for those politicians."
"That place is a crocodile pit, a gladiatorial arena, a sewer filled with lies and betrayal."
He poured some whiskey into his glass, took a sip, and the strong taste of alcohol made him squint: "Even just reading the newspaper can reveal the struggles behind the scenes."
"Take President Nixon for example," Fred said, pointing east. "He's a Republican, so he should be the most conservative one."
"But he did something that shocked all conservatives—he visited that great Eastern country!"
"This is a risky move, but also a good one. Think about it, its success could win us this Cold War!"
Fred swirled his glass, his expression growing increasingly disdainful: "But will the people of Washington cheer for this?"
No. Those die-hard hardliners would love to tear Nixon apart.
"So, you saw it too." He spread his hands, shook his head, and looked at him with pity: "Were those listening devices in the Watergate building really discovered by chance?"
"Even a three-year-old wouldn't believe it. Now, The Washington Post is like a shark that's smelled blood, clinging to this story relentlessly."
"Even though Nixon just won re-election, even though he wields immense power, he's now completely overwhelmed by this fire. That's Washington for you!"
Fred slammed his glass down on the small table and concluded, "Even the person sitting at the highest position in the White House can be shot through the throat by a hidden arrow from behind if they are not careful."
"Not to mention the generals in the Pentagon and the CIA directors, there are always explosives buried under their chairs."
Qin Han listened quietly, a slight smile playing on his lips.
The muddier the water, the easier it is to catch fish.
"Since that's the case—" A glint of light flashed in his eyes: "Fred, can you help us contact those people who are at odds with the Japanese gang?"
"For example, pragmatists like General Bill Gates, or industry representatives who are worried about Japan taking away the American market?"
"Connecting people is no problem, of course." Fred's eyes darted around, knowing that this young man must have some trick up his sleeve again: "Warner is one of the Democratic Party's biggest donors, and he has a few influential friends on Capitol Hill."
"Moreover, it's no secret in the industry that the Jewish community in Hollywood doesn't like Japanese people."
"But Qin," he lowered his voice and said seriously to Qin Han, "what happens after you meet them? You need to have a plan."
"Those people aren't philanthropists. If you want them to take action against the forces behind the Qinglan Society, you'll need to offer them something truly compelling."
"Getting something for nothing might work in Hollywood, but in Washington, it's suicide."
Qin Han smiled.
chips?
He holds a trump card in his hand, a trump card that will reshuffle the entire Western world – the oil crisis!
If we calculate the time, it is now the end of March 1973.
It was only about half a year away from that October that would make the world tremble—the outbreak of the Fourth Middle East War.
That was the most united and fierce counterattack by the Arab world against Israel, this "man-made state," since World War II.
OPEC will use oil as a whip, lashing the faces of Western industrialized nations.
Oil prices will skyrocket, and this crisis will be the first stumbling block on Japan's path to economic take-off.
Japan, which is heavily reliant on energy imports, will be severely impacted by this crisis, with inflation and soaring prices.
The so-called "economic myth" will, for the first time, reveal its fragile nature.
What kind of signal does this send to the pack of hungry wolves in Washington?
This means that by making plans in advance, one can not only make a fortune in the financial market, but also give the Japanese a good warning in terms of geopolitics.
If you operate it properly, there are so many ways to make a difference.
"I have a plan," he said, pointing to his temple. "And it's a big plan."
"However, Fred, you're right. Having information alone isn't enough to get a table at the dinner table; we also need to have our own resources."
"If we don't have any steel in our pockets, even if we tell them where there's a gold mine, we can only be guides and end up not even getting a sip of soup."
It is necessary to accumulate a sufficiently large cash flow within the next six months.
It's not just that Hans Film Studio needs money for its development; in order to get a share of that oil boom, it also needs a massive amount of ammunition.
Thinking of this, he looked at Fred: "By the way, how's the Disney stock you bought going?"
Upon hearing the word "stocks," Fred, who had been somewhat serious, instantly broke into a wide grin, his chubby face blossoming into a smile.
"Haha! Qin, even if you hadn't brought it up, I couldn't help but report this to you!"
He slapped his thigh excitedly; if they weren't in the car, Qin Han suspected he would have stood up and done a tap dance.
"My God, you're practically a prophet of Wall Street! Just as you instructed, I sold all my shares in Disney when the stock price peaked in early March!"
"You know what? Just three days after I sold my shares, the stock price started to fall! Those greedy guys are probably lining up on the rooftop right now!"
Fred held up two fingers and waved them in front of Qin Han, his boastful tone impossible to hide: "After deducting the money spent on this Lincoln and that Bentley, I still have a full 100,000 in profit on hand!"
Keep in mind that at that time, a villa in a middle-class neighborhood in Los Angeles cost only thirty or forty thousand US dollars, which was an absolute fortune.
"Qin, I'm itching to get my hands on the stock market right now." Fred rubbed his hands together, looking at Qin Han expectantly. "Is there some inside information lately? Can we go back into the stock market and make a killing?"
Having tasted success before, he now blindly idolizes Qin Han's investment advice.
Even if Qin Han asked him to buy sand from the Sahara Desert right now, he would probably pay without hesitation.
However, Qin Han slowly shook his head. "No, Fred. Put away your greed."
"For the next six months or so, no matter how the stock market fluctuates, even if you see opportunities everywhere, you absolutely must not get involved."
"Why?" Fred was taken aback, somewhat puzzled. "Although the market seems to be fluctuating right now, everyone says it's still a bull market—"
Seeing the fat man so engrossed in making money, Qin Han quickly poured cold water on his enthusiasm: "Remember the 'risk' I mentioned to you? That's no joke."
"Hold onto cash tightly, deposit it in a bank, or exchange it for gold; in short, maintain maximum liquidity. For the foreseeable future, cash is king."
Fred looked into Qin Han's deep eyes, and although he still felt a tickling sensation in his heart, he nodded anyway.
66
Okay, whatever you say.
"As for the Japanese—" Qin Han glanced at Bruce Lee, who had been listening attentively, "Master, just like Fred said, we can't move the dog leash right now."
"Once we have enough leverage and have woven that net in Washington, it will be time to settle accounts with them."
Bruce Lee slowly exhaled, his tense muscles relaxing. "I understand, Ah Han. The one thing martial artists have in abundance is patience."
"I'm willing to wait three or five years as long as these scourges can be eradicated."
"It won't take that long." Qin Han smiled confidently. "Right now, our primary task is to make Han's Film Company a stronger and larger ship."
"Post-production for 'Enter the Dragon' is of paramount importance!"
"It's not just a movie, it's a stage for us to showcase Chinese culture to the world, and it's also a treasure trove for us to earn our first pot of gold."
The car drove off the highway and into the West Hollywood neighborhood.
The neon lights along the roadside were already on, and huge movie posters shimmered in the night.
Looking at the familiar yet unfamiliar street scenes, Qin Han suddenly turned his head, a mysterious expression on his face: "By the way, Fred."
"What?" Fred replied casually, still pondering the upcoming "big plan."
"Do you remember that bet we made about the Vietnam War ceasefire agreement?"
"Of course I remember!" Fred laughed. "That bet gave Ted a real heart-stopping night. You said if Kissinger didn't sign it, you'd write a script for Warner for free."
"However, you're the winner now." He patted Qin Han on the shoulder: "Kissinger publicly announced the armistice the very next day, and you became our co-producer."
"Why bring this up all of a sudden?"
Qin Han laughed: "Although I won the bet, I think we can still have a proper talk about the script."
Produce