He understood that such pictures would not top the box offices, and he had the inspiration to design a number of supportive projects to keep his enterprises afloat. As president of Central Motion Picture Corporation, he established a wax museum, a film processing plant, and, more important, restructured ancient Chinese streets as a set also for lease to other motion picture and TV producers. He was the first CMPC president to keep the company in the black.
His ability and talent were appreciated by government leaders as well as the general public. In 1980, he was appointed president of the China Television Corporation. His appointment brought his spirit and high principles from the movie establishment to the TV industry. He improved CTV's programming, made all the preparations for construction of modern facilities designed to raise the level of the ROC television industry, and, only weeks before ground for the new and gigantic construction project was to be broken, died, on February 22, 1983.
While he was president of CTV, every year he would lead a movie and TV star group to Japan to join ROC National Day celebrations together with the patriotic Chinese there.
Last September, he began to feel uncomfortable; a workaholic, he uncharacteristically remarked to one of his subordinates that he needed some rest. But when his subordinate tried then to push him to rest for a few days, he replied, "The October celebrations will begin soon; I cannot afford a rest before these busy days are over." By October, he had begun to cough and to experience fevers. Nevertheless, he continued to attend meetings and to oversee the details for the Tokyo-bound mission. Later, in Tokyo, he spoke at the National Day rally and led a street parade. When the procession passed by 8 Chinese Communist facility, he waved the ROC flag he held, ready to lead the group in patriotic songs. But as he raised his arm, he felt pain like a strong current cutting through his chest.
After returning from Tokyo, he continued to work as hard as usual. But because he was pale and often massaged his chest with his hands, his subordinates pressed him to enter a hospital. He invariably deflected their concern with some other topic.
In mid-November, his physical condition turned from bad to worse. Despite the pleas of his colleagues, Mei did not go to a hospital until November 22. The doctors X-rayed his chest and found half his right lung was white on the film. Though the doctors advised him to be hospitalized, Mei insisted on returning to his office. Three days later, a nurse at the company had to escort him to another hospital, where the doctors also advised him to be hospitalized. He refused again, but under pressure from friends and colleagues, he finally agreed to go to Veterans General Hospital. Even at that time, he did not tell his wife why he needed to be hospitalized.
At that time, the hospital told Mei's oldest friends that the CTV president was in the terminal stage of lung cancer. After some hectic discussion, his friends decided to ask the doctors not to tell the tragic news to the patient and his next of kin.
In those days, Mei carried on his day as usual. He rose up early and had a hike on a hill in back of the hospital. Since he gasped, the doctors told him not to do such heavy exercise. So, he changed the hikes on the hill to walks in the garden.
Friends and colleagues flocked to the hospital to see him, and Mei began to feel indebted for their kindness. On December 4, he asked for a half day's leave and returned to his office to say thanks to his colleagues. He assured them that his determination to combat the disease, joined to intensive care by the doctors and the wonderful effects of new medicines, would result in recovery—he would join them again.
The episode reminded his colleagues of the courageous visit to Capitol Hill by cancer-stricken U.S. Senator Hubert Humphrey, who left his hospital bed in order to personally express his appreciation to his colleagues for their concern. In a trembling voice, the late Senator said:
"The greatest gift in life is the gift of friendship, and I have received it. And the greatest healing therapy is friendship and love, and over this land I have sensed it. Doctors, chemicals, radiation, pills, nurses, therapists, are all very, very helpful, but without faith in yourself and in your own ability to overcome your difficulties...and without the friendship and the kindness and the generosity of friends, there is no healing. I know that."
Like Humphrey, Mei told his colleagues, "I am much better now. My disease has been brought under control by chemicals."
His colleagues believed that Mei did not know that the disease he had contracted was cancer, and that it had reached the stage beyond cure. So when they faced their boss in the office, they had to muster restrained smiles in response to his words of gratitude.
They never knew that they themselves, not their president, were in the dark. On the day of Mei's death, a ranking CTV official opened Mei's desk and found a poem he had written on November 22, the day of his first trip to Veterans General Hospital. It read:
Reading over half of my lifetime turns
out to be useless.
And the sword sharpened for 30 years
fulfills no purpose.
I shall die before the Chinese mainland
is recovered;
As a warrior, I rue my tragedy and wet
my lapels with tears.