HK$1 billion — nearly US$240 million.
Originally, Lin BaoCheng had planned to invest this money into a home appliance company. But after abandoning that plan and turning to Hollywood, Morning Star Pictures had only cost US$50 million. Naturally, Lin wouldn't leave the rest sitting in a bank earning interest.
The first profits from Donkey Kong alone were tens of millions of dollars. Lin gathered US$200 million and, through Goldman Sachs channels, leveraged it tenfold to go long on gold futures.
Recently, after gold prices fell below US$160/oz, they rebounded and stabilized above that level. Lin judged that further declines this year were unlikely.
This money wasn't needed as margin, nor would he leave it idle in a bank. Investment was the only option. Before 1980, gold futures were the most profitable and reliable choice.
This leveraged investment could be canceled at any time, so interest was higher. Lin chose this because he wasn't sure when he might need large sums of cash. He avoided long‑term financing to prevent complications.
In effect, the money was as liquid as a bank deposit — but with leverage, profits would be far greater.
Though risky in theory, Lin was confident the risk was negligible.
Meanwhile, after Morning Star Pictures was founded, Sherry Lansing began integration. Casting the lead boy for Home Alone was proving difficult, so progress required patience.
By day, Lin worked on office software. At night, he drafted outlines for the Home Alone trilogy. He remembered the first two films vividly, so he could script them. For the third, he could only provide a rough outline.
Even so, the first two scripts would need professional screenwriters to adapt. As American family comedies, cultural nuances mattered. Hollywood writers knew best how to make them funny.
Lin refused to be careless. The better the groundwork, the higher the fidelity to the original, and the greater the chance of success.
Time passed quickly, and July arrived.
Within two weeks, Lansing completed Morning Star's integration and began producing two low‑budget films. Though Lin had said she could decide such projects herself, she still reported them to him for input.
Lin didn't recognize the titles or plots — unsurprising, since low‑budget films rarely left an impression unless they became hits.
So he offered no comment, telling her to decide freely.
Lansing was pleased. Her boss had kept his word: small films were hers to manage, without interference. She could now act boldly to grow the company.
At New Century Software, office software was in its final stage, nearing completion. Lin devoted more energy there. Unless a suitable Home Alone actor was found, he wouldn't intervene in Lansing's projects.
He focused on pushing the software to completion.
During this time, Qin Lan reported news from Hong Kong.
One of the city's three major TV stations, Commercial Television (CTV), had suffered from mandatory educational programming. Ratings were so low that for half a year the station couldn't profit from advertising. In response, executives launched the "July Offensive."
Beforehand, CTV's actors paraded in flower‑decked cars under the summer heat, visiting 92 districts across Hong Kong to promote programs. Newspapers ran constant ads.
The campaign created a sensation. Citizens couldn't ignore it, and ratings surged.
Huang XiZhao reported this to Lin. He wasn't worried about Asia Television's ratings, but had learned that CTV's finances were dire. If the "July Offensive" failed, their already weak finances would collapse further.
CTV had received board funding only last year. Now, with new troubles, another injection seemed unlikely. Bankruptcy loomed. With mandatory educational programming slots, acquisition prospects were slim.
Believing CTV might fail, Huang prepared to poach its talent for Asia Television. He sought Lin's approval to act quickly if crisis struck.
Lin didn't object. He told Huang to proceed as he saw fit. Any talent useful to the station — on‑screen or behind the scenes — could be recruited.
"Was it August or September when CTV collapsed?" Lin wondered, unable to recall. But it didn't matter.
Once CTV folded, Asia Television's only rival would be TVB. Unlike CTV, TVB had no educational programming restrictions, and its shareholders were wealthy. Defeating TVB would require superior dramas and programs — no shortcuts.
For Lin, beating TVB wasn't essential. Suppressing it enough for Asia Television to become Hong Kong's largest station, with higher ratings, was sufficient. TV stations didn't earn much directly. Their value lay in publicity.
Leaving Hong Kong matters aside, Lin pressed forward at New Century Software. He led Aiden Sherlan, Peter Roslin, and the team in the final sprint.
All the developers admired their boss's computing skills. They couldn't understand how someone from Asia — a "computer desert" — could be so advanced.
Whenever asked, Lin only smiled and stayed silent. He was the boss. No one dared press him for answers.