"Oh, what is this? That novel written by Hu in China?" Scott pointed at Badala with a laugh. He was holding a stack of manuscripts that Hu Wenhai forced to him.

It can be seen from the traces and handwriting of the copied paper, that the time span of these manuscripts must be so long that there are often curled shadows on the corners of these copies. However, the beautiful handwritten English fonts show that the author should have a good English education background, which surprised Badala a little.

"It's really hard to believe that China has such excellent English literature education? So young people like Hu can write so many works in English. Hey, even these things are unsightly garbage, it would be amazing to be able to write so many words!"

"In Hollywood, there is no shortage of hard-working screenwriters. I think you are doing useless work in Badara." Scott shook his head and said, "Can a young man in mainland China understand what the American spirit is? Without the influence of a cultural atmosphere, I don't think there will be anything valuable."

"Ha, Scott, you have a little too high demands." Badala shrugged indifferently and smiled: "You know that what we producers do is this kind of work. The nonsense scripts I receive every day can fill a room! In fact, I am not going to read them all. Whether a person has talent can be confirmed by reading the 100 words he wrote."

"Let me take a look." Scott pulled out a manuscript from Badara's arms and gently read the title on it: "Da Vinci Code? Oh, an interesting name."

"It's quite like that. How come there are no guards at the night of the Louvre in Paris..."

Scott was able to pick and pick on the spot at first, but as he read, his complaints gradually became less and less. Taxis in New York stopped and walked through the congested and slow city, but it was a decent reading environment.

It was not until the taxi suddenly stopped that Scott's hand shook and heard the black driver in front of him claim the fare, and then he suddenly woke up.

Not only Scott, but I don’t know when it started, Badala also looked at the manuscript with relish. Until this time, the two looked at each other and saw a hint of surprise in each other’s eyes!

Scott paid the fare and opened the car door and walked down. Their destination was his friend's house in New York, but at this time he lost interest in calling his friends. He shook the manuscript in his hand, looked at the stack in Badala's arms, swallowed and asked, "Hey, Badala, you seem to be very interested in this novel of Hu in China? Why, what's the name of the story you read?"

"X file." Badala spitted out a word, subconsciously hugged the stack of documents in his arms tightly, and said dryly: "I think it's not just me who is interested, aren't you fascinated?"

"I have to admit that this Chinese storytelling is very good." Scott nodded helplessly and smiled: "Why should we find a place first and read all these novels?"

"Okay, this is a good idea." Badala also knew that it was impossible for him to leave Scott and do this alone, and now he regretted it. Hu Wenhai handed all the manuscripts to him at that time, but in order not to let the news leak, it seems that he had to let Scott get involved.

The two of them found a hotel nearby, then opened a room under the strange eyes of the front desk waiter, and then both walked into the elevator.

There are about a dozen novels that Hu Wenhai gave to Badala, but not all of them are novels, some are similar to movies and TV series scripts.

These manuscripts are not easy to recall for him, and most of them were works from the 1990s and early 21st century. After all, his career reached the peak of his life, and the corresponding entertainment time was greatly compressed. The number of novels and movies he had read was limited. Several more popular literary works were bought by his wife for him to read to her when she was pregnant. This really helped Hu Wenhai.

Fortunately, he spent a lot of time on memories and re-creation. Since he went to school, he had gone out of his parents' sight and began to prepare for this. After all, as an ordinary person, in China in the 1970s and 1980s, he searched for safer money-making opportunities in society, which is the most reliable way to shake the pen.

However, compared with the domestic manuscript fee, English novels not only have the right reason to learn English, but also have much more expected returns. Hu Wenhai was fucked and even created them with memories, so he got together such a little text. If you want to expect him to continue writing, it would be better to wait until the original author grows up before talking about it.

It's also true that these novels and scripts were originally Hu Wenhai's first pot of gold. He originally planned to find an opportunity to come to the United States to make money after he graduated from college. Who knew that the plan did not change quickly, and suddenly a new Sigu came to pull the model aircraft. Of course, you must seize the opportunity to come to your door.

So after arriving in the United States, the value of these words seemed a bit unfavorable to Hu Wenhai. After all, Hollywood screenwriters all had assembly line assignments and were not favored by producers at all, and were pitifully low in rewards.

As for the novel, even if it is the Song of Ice and Fire or the Da Vinci Code, how can the royalty income be comparable to that of industrial business? So now, Hu Wenhai has no idea about this pile of things, and has given it to Scott and Badara purely with the mentality of dealing with waste.

As for asking him to continue writing these things, sorry, he might as well go to Japan to speculate on land with this energy. As for how Scott and Badala would deal with these words, Hu Wenhai had already left it behind.

As the receptionist watched, Scott and Badala walked into the elevator and appeared again, it would take two days to wait.

In an ordinary guest room on the fifth floor of this ordinary four-star hotel, Scott and Badala didn't even know how they came here in the past two days. It seemed that they had already existed in this room at the beginning of their lives. And the whole meaning of their life is to read all the manuscripts in their hands.

When they finished reading the last page of the manuscript, an indescribable void swept across their hearts.

"Oh, I really hope this is not the last page." Scott looked very frustrated and sighed, "Batala, do you have any stories in your hand that I haven't seen before?"

"It's gone, it's gone!" Badara seemed to have a bird's nest on her head, and there were thick dark circles around her eyes. She pointed to the other two manuscripts on the table and said, "Scott, you're reading the third part of the Matrix. This novel only has a trilogy!"

"Well, I hope the Chinese Hu still has its prequel and legend in his head. Of course, other novels are best equipped with sequels."

"It's possible. I only saw three seasons of the scripts in x file. I think it should be fine to write five seasons. There is also the Da Vinci password, and there are also many branches to dig. But what I like the most is this one-"

Badala searched through the pile of documents and suddenly laughed like a treasure: "I like this American gods, this background setting is so interesting!"

"The American gods are really good, but I like this more!" Scott also has his own favorite work, holding up a novel and sighed: "The Song of Ice and Fire, it has simply created a period of history!"

Speaking of this, Badala suddenly stood up, not like a person who hadn't slept for two days. He was so energetic that he searched in his business card holder, and then pulled out a business card: "Look, Scott, I think we can go and ask him for help. There is no doubt about the talent of the Chinese Hu. Why don't we just pull him over and set up a publishing house?"

"Set up a publishing house? Badala, you're crazy!" Scott looked at him incredible and shook his head, "We can't put our hope on an author, such a publishing house has no future."

Scott is right. No matter what, the publisher cannot have only one author. Unless the author is the owner of the publisher, Isn’t it a publisher to work for the author? Any publisher with some ambitions will not accept such a reality.

"What about him?" Badala put the business card in front of Scott and said, "Douglas Edwards, former deputy editor-in-chief of New York Business Press, is now preparing a company called Scholars Press. I think we can use this to mix it with it."

"Well, this is not bad. But this matter must be kept secret. You can't let Douglas know about China Hu too early."

"Of course, don't worry about this issue."

...

Hu Wenhai has not been idle for this period. He went in and out of the streets and alleys of New York, looking for what he needed. However, unlike a real-life machine, his real goal has never been much clue.

"Cold Spring Laboratory rejected the commissioned R&D project, and the price of millions of dollars is probably not in their eyes." Iverson stood in front of Hu Wenhai helplessly and exhausted, reporting a series of bad news.

"The New York University Institute of Biology is of some interest, so I can ask for the molecular formula of the trial compound first."

"Jacopolo Laboratory is willing to cooperate with us, and the commission cost of R&D was only $500,000. However, the company's record is not very good, and there have been incidents of stealing customer results."

Hu Wenhai listened quietly to Iverson's report and kept thinking about the conditions of these laboratories in his mind. Corder Spring Laboratory is his first choice. It is an old laboratory with a long history and rich scientific research results and experience. However, like all famous brands, it is expensive and has a proud attitude.

The New York University Institute of Biology is a research institution at New York University. They don’t have to worry about research funds. The price may be lower, but they are more picky about the project itself.

As for Jacopolo Laboratory, it can only be a choice without any choice. For Hu Wenhai, money is not a problem. Assessing a lawsuit causes a waste of time, so the opportunity cost will be greater losses.

Logically speaking, the Institute of Biology at New York University should be a good choice, but Hu Wenhai still crossed it out of his list. Perhaps other projects can be cooperated with them, but the project he prepared was really important. He could not accept the risk of showing the molecular formula in advance!

So now there is only one problem left. It is said that as long as money can solve it, it is not a problem. But what should I do when the problem is short of money?

It was easy to deal with, Hu Wenhai touched his backpack. There was a money grab plan he had saved for 18 years. Anyone throwing it out would be enough to cause a storm.
Chapter completed!