Pan Li felt there was something wrong with Xu Mei.
After being mistreated for so long, now that she was being treated kindly, she still lacked confidence?
But Xu Mei acted obedient in front of Mr. Guan, while her gaze toward Pan Li was dark and brooding. Seeing Mr. Guan treat Xu Mei kindly again, Pan Li didn’t dare disobey her.
Pan Li went all out to gather information and learned that the copyright fee negotiations had fallen through.
Though Xu Mei still had doubts, since everyone said the same, she thought she was overthinking.
Fair enough.
They say heaven is just. Li Mengjiao had so much good luck; it was finally Xu Mei’s turn.
Xu Mei let go of her worries and began looking forward to Jade Forest’s broadcast.
Perhaps because her mood improved, Xu Mei could sleep at night.
When good things happen, spirits lift. Xu Mei found new energy, and even Cao Shao, who had been increasingly cold toward her, warmed up a bit.
Cao Shao had hit many walls with Li Mengjiao. Unlike Liang Dan, who didn’t care who Xu Mei dated, Yuan Fenghui kept a close eye on Li Mengjiao. Let alone a playboy like Cao Shao, even a scheming male mosquito couldn’t buzz near her.
Li Mengjiao was Yuan Fenghui’s biggest project, the star she was determined to build. Anyone trying to derail Li Mengjiao’s career was as serious as blowing up Yuan Fenghui’s house, no, worse than that, like desecrating her ancestral grave!
Everyone at Mr. Guan’s company was thrilled, except Zhang Yangning, who felt uneasy.
She had tipped off Teacher Yuan, so how did Jade Forest get scheduled first?
Zhang Yangning didn’t believe Yuan Fenghui was so incapable.
Perhaps Yuan Fenghui had other plans.
Maybe another station offered a higher price, and Yuan Fenghui didn’t want to sell to Hunan TV cheaply!
Either way, Zhang Yangning achieved her goal. Yuan Fenghui explicitly acknowledged her favor. When to call in that favor depended on what Zhang Yangning wanted. For now, she wasn’t in a rush and would watch the situation.
Mr. Guan’s company, despite its fierce competition, was backed by Hunan TV and had no shortage of resources, focusing mainly on the music market.
Tianjiao was good, but as a new film company, Zhang Yangning feared she’d still miss out on music resources if she jumped ship.
Unlike Xu Mei, Zhang Yangning had no interest in acting. Her goal was to release albums and make the music she loved, and that hadn’t changed.
If Yuan Fenghui could guarantee Zhang Yangning a steady release schedule, she’d pay the breach-of-contract fee herself to follow her.
Wait a bit longer.
Zhang Yangning told herself.
Now wasn’t the best time.
Besides, the breach-of-contract fee was steep, and Mr. Guan didn’t value her much. Why should she let the company profit so much?
Among last year’s signees, several shared Zhang Yangning’s thoughts, but none had her boldness or initiative. Barring surprises, they’d waste years at Mr. Guan’s company, forced to accept they were ordinary.
That’s the cruel truth of the entertainment industry. Only a rare few achieve stardom; talent and luck are both essential. Many think they’re the one-in-a-million lucky ones, but they’re just foils for the chosen few!
,Exclusive broadcast rights?
Hunan TV was clever.
Wen Ying wasn’t too surprised when she heard the news from Li Mengjiao.
Exclusive drama rights seemed to be gaining traction this year.
This was a year of reshuffling for mainland dramas, or rather, for TV stations’ viewership shares. Wealthy stations could pay high prices to secure good dramas, boosting ratings and ad slot prices, which gave them bigger budgets to buy more dramas. High-quality dramas aired yearly, and audiences would habitually stick to that station, even accepting its other programs, building loyalty.
Rich stations were in a virtuous cycle, while poorer ones were in a vicious one, unable to afford good dramas, losing viewership share. Audiences lost interest, quickly changing channels if they accidentally tuned in.
Good dramas depend on the production company, the cast, and the scriptwriter.
Of course, some dramas bought at high prices for exclusive rights still flopped, while others bought cheaply became surprise hits. Such dark horses were unpredictable.
Thinking this, Wen Ying’s mood turned complex.
Being a plagiarist went against her morals.
But she remembered plenty of dramas that would later become huge hits. If she had spare cash and access to production companies, could she invest?
She wasn’t greedy, just sipping the broth while others ate the meat.
Wen Ying noted this idea and asked Li Mengjiao, “No issue with exclusive rights. How much is Director Fan offering?”
“Director Fan gestured a three, then a five. It was so quick I almost missed it!”
35 million?
Honestly, Director Fan’s offer wasn’t low.
The Princess’s New Clothes had 28 episodes, with a per-episode production cost of 650,000, totaling 18.2 million. At 35 million, Tianjiao’s first drama would nearly double its investment. Wen Ying calculated her 500,000 investment and figured a Shanghai apartment was in the bag, but if Director Fan offered 35 million right away, only a fool would accept immediately. Hunan TV’s budget ceiling was surely higher!
The 650,000 per-episode cost was known only to Tianjiao’s executives and investors like Wen Ying. Publicly, they claimed a million per episode. So Hunan TV’s 35 million for exclusive rights was a bit low!
Wen Ying’s heart raced.
“Did Hunan TV say how many years they want to buy out?”
,Huh?
Li Mengjiao was clueless.
Exclusive rights meant selling it all to Hunan TV, right?
Even at her most confident, Li Mengjiao didn’t think her first drama could compare to classics like Journey to the West or Legend of the White Snake, which rerun every summer and winter.
“Forget it, I won’t talk to you. Go do your thing. I’ll talk to Teacher Yuan.”
Not only should there be a time limit, but they needed to retain online streaming rights.
In 2005, drama distribution relied on TV broadcasts and pirated DVDs, limited by slow internet speeds. Downloading an episode was painfully slow, and no platform supported smooth online streaming. But in a few years, people would chase dramas online, first on computers, then on phones and tablets. Some dramas would skip TV entirely, targeting online platforms from the start. Online streaming rights weren’t valued by most film companies yet, but since Wen Ying knew their future importance, she wouldn’t let Yuan Fenghui give them away carelessly!
Wen Ying, dreaming of her Shanghai riverside apartment, eagerly went to strategize with Yuan Fenghui, momentarily forgetting her lawsuit. Meanwhile, Aige’s editorial department received a court summons, over terminating a contract with a new author. They didn’t take it seriously, though this was the first time an author had sued them, and the author’s attitude was unusually fierce!
