Chapter 122: Glacier Spring Water

“Ha, we’ve invested. Let the lawyer handle the rest.”

Old Bushu wasn’t really concerned about how well the mineral water sold; he was investing in people. William White had been incredibly helpful to him. A mere one million was just a way to strengthen their connection.

“Not bad at all. I’m very satisfied,” William White nodded as he gazed at the crystal-clear glass bottle in his hand.

“Master, how much production are we looking at?”

“Twenty million units of 500ml bottles, ten million units of 1,000ml bottles. Production can start immediately.”

“Understood, Master. The grape juice bottles will be ready soon as well. This time, I don’t expect any mistakes.”

“Let’s hope so.”

The square-shaped juice bottles presented considerable manufacturing challenges, and the factory was truly struggling. But as the saying goes, everyone loves the greenback. If you want to make big money, it’s best to toe the line. PVC bottles were the mainstream now, and orders for glass factories had dropped sharply. If someone was daring to go against the tide, it was wise to seize the opportunity quickly.

“Glass bottles? I’m starting to regret the investment. Won’t that hike up the shipping costs?”

“George, you’re such a short-sighted fool. Do you know why laboratories always use glass containers?”

“Because they offer the greatest stability and aren’t affected by chemical elements. Can PVC do that?”

William White looked utterly disdainful, as if George were a bumpkin unworthy of conversation.

“Alright, alright. When it comes to wasting money, you’re no match for a nouveau riche like me.”

“Come on, George, let’s go have a fancy lunch.”

As for how the contracts were signed, the two young masters didn’t concern themselves with such details—that was what all those lawyers were for.

“This is the advertising strategy plan. Absolutely no leaks.”

Being shareholders, there could be no secrets; that was the foundation of their partnership.

A group of wealthy classmates had pooled together to acquire a 5% stake. This Glacial Mineral Water Company was probably the one with the most shareholders under William’s umbrella.

Industry giants paid no mind to a suddenly emerging mineral water company; their scales simply didn’t compare. What use was a single factory when everyone else was playing at a different level?

“Hmph, let me show you country bumpkins the power of product placement.”

Although production hadn’t started, that didn’t stop him from embedding advertisements. The spy comedy was too rushed; the Mr. Bean agent film was just right.

Using an environmental theme naturally attracted eco-conscious advocates. All he needed was to fan the flames.

William White returned to campus life. Though he often took leaves, his academic performance was impeccable. His professors believed he could graduate on his own—except his fundamentals weren’t fully solidified; there wasn’t much more to teach.

The school had its own considerations. His presence brought many benefits, especially to the Film Academy, which didn’t want him graduating early.

The school simply didn’t have enough commercial film internship opportunities—those were priceless and couldn’t be bought. So, he had no choice but to keep attending classes, albeit with more flexibility.

Because William had classes, the Mr. Bean agent film could only shoot scenes on set for the time being—a strong enough reason that no one could argue.

Rowan Atkinson had heard from the boss that next year’s competition would be brutal. The summer blockbuster season would be lively enough; there was no point in rushing production.

Another crucial point William hadn’t mentioned was that audiences were growing more discerning and demanding. If you couldn’t innovate, you were bound to flop.

Several recent comedy films had indeed tanked. Seen from another angle, many were quite good but simply ill-timed.

Whether they flopped or not didn’t matter much; White Studios had gained several very talented screenwriters. Others viewed things through tinted lenses; he refused to be so superficial.

This summer’s blockbuster was Star Wars. Strangely, they hadn’t even begun promotion yet, and it was nearly April. Such calmness was remarkable!

He didn’t understand their mindset. Everyone was different. His films were self-financed, breaking Hollywood’s curse.

No one invested in their own films, and those films usually flopped. Yet William White seemed immune—this was already his second film, and “The Spy’s Business Trip” had received high praise, which was baffling to many.

“Boss, here’s the progress on the ‘Foot Basin’ comic, along with their work schedule.”

“Hmm, let me see. How’s the equipment calibration down under? Have them print a batch using better coated paper.”

“And Suzuki, that outfit today looks good on you.”

“Thank you, Boss.”

Tsk, tsk. Such impeccable service. It was hard to fathom how they had been so brutal during World War II. Could the atomic bomb have altered their genes?

Someone said, “Aren’t you against nepotism? Why aren’t you holding to that now? What if it’s a toxic relationship?”

That wouldn’t happen. Beyond the many agreements, their national character wouldn’t allow it.

“Foot Basin” was the country with the highest number of perverts. Their trams frequently witnessed such scenes—not as exaggerated as in action films, but common nonetheless.

“Foot Basin” people preferred aisle seats on planes, partly for easy access to the restroom and not inconveniencing others with frequent comings and goings.

Another reason was the slight physical contact with the flight attendants along the aisle. Their lechery was ingrained in their souls; many took great pleasure in such contact.

Ridiculous, isn’t it?

But it was widespread.

“Foot Basin” women had incredible tolerance. Unless things got too extreme, they usually wouldn’t slap offenders—at most, they’d move away. Loudly calling for help was considered highly rude.

Bizarre, isn’t it?

The temperament of “Foot Basin” women certainly enabled some bad behavior.

Haha, but on the other hand, those crowded subways were truly frustrating. It was understandable with older folks, but young people really reacted. The worst part was not being able to pull your hand away—it was truly embarrassing.

It wasn’t that the guys wanted to get so close; the doors were being pushed by others, and the entire cabin was like a sardine can. One wrong move and someone could get pregnant—no joke.

Some said it was shameless.

That was unfounded. The guys were just acting naturally, with no inappropriate intentions.

Well, maybe a little!

But who doesn’t have a little?

If young people didn’t have fantasies, how would the world progress?

Why was “Foot Basin” so Westernized yet had so few homosexuals? That was clearly abnormal!

Credit their action film directors—everything you can imagine and more, they had portrayed.

The scene of Sun Wukong picking the peaches of immortality, if filmed by a “Foot Basin” director, would probably stretch to three hours of filler.

If “The Invisible Man” were filmed there, the visuals would be stunning to the point of being unfair.

“Suzuki, this part won’t do—the dialogue is too lengthy. And this scene, the art style’s off. You can’t just be cool all the time. There needs to be some hardship. Who keeps a cool front after heartbreak? That’s not cool—that’s…”

“Understood, Boss. Should I fax this to them?”

“Yes, for now, that’s the only option.”

Used to emails, he felt helpless. The current efficiency was really absurd.