Under the encouragement of Wen Ying and the others, Zhang Liqun decided to try starting a domestic services company. It did not need to be large-scale. Zhang Liqun was not short of money now. What she lacked was confidence and, even more, a platform to realise her self-worth.
Although Pang Zhigang had divided the shares with Zhang Liqun, he was not afraid of her causing trouble at the company at all. He knew Zhang Liqun understood nothing about company matters and felt very secure in this. Recently, he even wanted Zhang Liqun to sell back her allocated shares to him at a low price.
Zhang Liqun felt very uncomfortable being looked down upon by her ex-husband like this, but Pang Zhigang’s words were rough yet reasonable. She indeed knew nothing about it.
Some people had suggested to Zhang Liqun that she could let her son Pang Jinglong manage it, cultivating Pang Jinglong early since he would take over eventually anyway!
One could not say the advisors were malicious. Most people genuinely thought this way. After all, if Pang Jinglong did not take over, would not Pang Zhigang’s remaining assets benefit the two illegitimate sons instead?
Zhang Liqun truly had no such thoughts.
In the past, Pang Zhigang had not valued Jinglong at all. Could she count on him after the divorce?
Zhang Liqun had had enough of her ex-husband’s attitude. Deep down, she did not want her son Pang Jinglong to suffer the same. If one had motives, one had to grovel and please. With no motives, there was naturally no need to bother!
Jinglong was doing very well now, pursuing a career he loved with like-minded friends, full of vitality every day. There was no need to deal with Pang Zhigang again.
Zhang Liqun just thought that if she tried hard and still understood nothing, she would consider selling the shares. And even if selling, she would not sell to Pang Zhigang. At the same low price, Zhang Liqun would rather sell the shares to someone else!
After finishing this meal, Zhang Liqun asked Zhu Xiao and Dong Runfang if they wanted to invest in the domestic services company.
“I know this is a very small business. Working hard for a year might not even make much money. I just want… to thank you.”
Zhu Xiao and Dong Runfang were not short of money and would not take Zhang Liqun’s money.
Zhang Liqun had been receiving help from her two new friends and did not know how to repay it.
It would be great if everyone could work together.
For long-lasting friendships, without shared endeavours, what if friends grew distant?
Zhang Liqun did not know if the domestic services company could succeed or how much money it could make if it did. She just thought there was no need for Zhu Xiao and Dong Runfang to work. She would distribute some money to her two friends each year.
Dong Runfang aside, in Zhang Liqun’s view, Zhu Xiao’s situation… was actually a bit precarious.
Though Zhu Xiao was very beautiful, very smart, and very sociable, she was also a full-time housewife!
Having known Zhu Xiao for so long, Zhang Liqun had never once seen Zhu Xiao’s husband.
Zhang Liqun worried that Zhu Xiao’s marriage might have hidden risks. If one day something happened to Zhu Xiao’s marriage, having a bit more money on hand would never hurt.
Zhu Xiao did not know she was being worried about by Zhang Liqun. Zhu Xiao thought: This is Zhang Liqun’s first time trying something on her own. She might lack confidence and need friends’ encouragement?
Zhu Xiao gave Dong Runfang a glance. The two agreed to become shareholders in the domestic services company.
They would contribute a token amount of money, serving as a reassurance for Zhang Liqun, allowing her to go all out with the company.
It must be said, this was truly a beautiful misunderstanding. Both sides in the partnership felt they were helping the other!
…
On the weekend, Wen Ying was summoned to Tianjiao by Yuan Fenghui.
“If I didn’t call you, you wouldn’t come on your own. Have you noticed your office is already gathering dust?”
Wen Ying showed no remorse. “Gathering dust? Has the company been deducting the cleaning auntie’s salary, so she’s openly slacking off like this!”
Yuan Fenghui gave a cold laugh, then turned to mention that the company had already submitted Zhang Guangzhen’s cross-strait marriage drama “Love Across the Sea” for the Television Golden Eagle Award. The Golden Eagle Award is given every two years. It was awarded last year, so the next is next year.
The Chinese-language TV drama market has always been highly competitive. In recent years, good dramas have emerged frequently. Yuan Fenghui had no confidence that “Love Across the Sea” could win the “Best Television Series” at next year’s Golden Eagle Award. After all, this award is given every two years, and only one work receives it each time.
“If we can’t get Best, getting an Outstanding Television Series Award is no problem.”
The Golden Eagle’s “Outstanding Television Series Award” can go to more than one drama. Yuan Fenghui had this much confidence.
“What about Best Screenwriter? We can at least fight for that for Teacher Zhang, right?”
Wen Ying said it lightly. Yuan Fenghui was amused into anger. “It’s not as simple as you think. ‘Best Screenwriter’ is usually bundled with ‘Best Television Series’. If a drama’s script isn’t good, how can it win Best Television Series?”
So “Love Across the Sea” would either sweep Best Screenwriter and Best Television Series, becoming a big winner at next year’s Golden Eagle, or lose both awards.
Originally, Yuan Fenghui was quite confident. “Love Across the Sea” had an advantage in theme.
Who knew that in September this year, another satellite channel aired a marriage-themed drama with excellent reputation and ratings, directly clashing with “Love Across the Sea”.
The silver lining in the misfortune was that, though both marriage-themed TV dramas, “Love Across the Sea” aired two months earlier. Otherwise, the latter would have competed for ratings with “Love Across the Sea” too!
Wen Ying secretly regretted. “If Teacher Zhang Guangzhen wins another Golden Eagle for Best Screenwriter—”
“Then even more people would want to poach him. He’s so naive. Other companies would definitely exploit him ruthlessly!”
Yuan Fenghui waved her hand, skipping the topic of Zhang Guangzhen. “What about the profit-sharing agreement I mentioned last time? Have you considered it? That’s 5% of the adaptation revenue from ‘Teen Idol’, whether TV drama or film, all giving you a share.”
“Teacher Yuan, whether naive or smart makes no difference. Even if I’m not naive, you’d still exploit me!”
Wen Ying muttered.
Yuan Fenghui wished she had a stick to knock Wen Ying with. Her gaze searched the office, spotting only a pot of vibrant blooming gladiolus. Yuan Fenghui considered for two seconds whether to uproot the gladiolus to whack Wen Ying, but ultimately gave up. The gladiolus was a gift from Director Fan of Hunan Satellite TV, congratulating Yuan Fenghui on her new office.
Wen Ying slowly backed away, nearly pressing against the office door, ready to bolt at any moment.
“It’s not my fault. You didn’t explain clearly. You just said share based on adaptation revenue. How was I to know if it’s gross or net? For example, if adapted into a TV drama and broadcast rights sell for 100 million—we’re just assuming it could sell for 100 million—that’s 5% of 100 million versus 5% of 50 million production costs. The difference is huge!”
5% of 100 million is 5 million.
5% of 50 million is 2.5 million.
Shui Mingyue’s novel adaptation rights sold for at most 2 million per book. Logically, even 2.5 million in adaptation share should satisfy Wen Ying.
If Wen Ying did not know how adaptation rights would skyrocket in a few years, she should be content with 2.5 million—but she knew they would!
Wen Ying was not short of money now and in no hurry to sell “Teen Idol”‘s film/TV adaptation rights. It was Yuan Fenghui who proposed buying them, so Wen Ying could only price according to her own ideas.
Yuan Fenghui thought carefully. “For the TV drama, we can give you 5% of gross revenue. Youth campus dramas’ broadcast rights, I estimate, can only sell for tens of millions. Film cannot be 5% of box office. You know most box office goes to cinemas. Whatever remains for Tianjiao, we’ll give you 5% of that portion!”
“That works… but I want to include online streaming rights revenue.”
Youth campus dramas might not sell much on TV stations, but they explode on online platforms!
Wen Ying held firm on this point without yielding. Yuan Fenghui found it amusing. “I thought you’d want other derivative revenues, like DVDs, songs, etc.”
Wen Ying was very generous. “No need. I’ll concede other derivative revenues to the company. No share in those.”
Hehe, conceding to the company still meant Wen Ying could get money.
Being both original author and film company shareholder was so great. If she hadn’t invested that 10 million in Tianjiao shares back then but rushed to buy a Modu sea-view house, how could she now earn multiple times from one book!
Wen Ying suddenly became generous. Yuan Fenghui pondered thoughtfully.
When Tianjiao first signed “Princess’s New Clothes” with Hunan Satellite TV, they retained online streaming rights.
Wen Ying seemed to always care about this point.
Now personal computers were gradually popularising—not just desktops, many white-collar workers and university students used laptops. With computers widespread, internet users naturally increased. Indeed, many chose to watch dramas on computers.
But were online streaming rights that valuable?
From ads?
Or pay-per-view.
For pay-per-view, a few yuan per drama—who knew if people would buy.
Watching on computer was limited by internet speed and device. Picture quality was still too poor, not as clear as TV screens. Film viewing experience was even worse. The web was full of pirated movies—just for the plot, unable to showcase cinematic aesthetics. Not to mention effects-heavy films. Without cinema viewing, effects were invisible!
Yuan Fenghui knew the entertainment industry well and could game various forces, but she could not foresee the future.
In just a few short years, barriers Yuan Fenghui thought insurmountable were overcome.
Internet speeds faster, devices upgraded, online platforms went legitimate with charges!
Wen Ying snickered inwardly. Yuan Fenghui thought: The little fox probably knows some insider info she’s keeping secret. Hmph, if she won’t say, fine. In future, tighten grip on online streaming rights for company productions!
Yuan Fenghui, as Tianjiao director, finalised the contract with Wen Ying, then as Wen Ying’s agent helped sign it. The role switches were remarkably smooth.
Wen Ying sold “Teen Idol”‘s film/TV adaptation rights to Tianjiao. She saw not a penny in cash upfront, but no matter. Wen Ying would get this money eventually.
Selling adaptation rights to her own invested film company had another benefit: No way to fake the revenue calculations!
This agreement was signed smoothly. Both sides felt they had struck gold.
Wen Ying returned to school. Passing the playground, she again encountered the school basketball team captain.
Originally, Wen Ying only found him vaguely familiar, paying no more attention. But after Xie Qian mentioned someone resembling Rukawa Kaede, Wen Ying glanced more at the playground each time, trying to spot a real-life Zhendan Rukawa Kaede.
Basketball team captain, rich second-generation senior, and journalism department genius—the three all saw each other as strong rivals. In pursuing Wen Ying, the three started from the same line.
Wen Ying had only glanced at the playground a few times more. The rich senior and genius nearly had their hearts shatter on the spot.
The basketball team captain was thrilled, feeling he had already pulled ahead of the two rivals, successfully leaving a deep impression on Wen Ying.
This Zhendan Rukawa Kaede thought long and hard, deciding to strike while the iron was hot by giving Wen Ying a ticket to the Modu college basketball league semifinals. He would win her heart with his performance on the court.
Closer, closer. Wen Ying junior was approaching.
Zhendan Rukawa Kaede classmate caught sight of Wen Ying from the corner of his eye. Deliberately, he sent the basketball flying to block Wen Ying’s path.
Next, he would chase the ball, ask if she was startled, then smoothly offer the semifinal ticket as compensation for the “apology”, leaving Wen Ying with the most romantic first impression—
The ball flew out as planned, blocking Wen Ying’s path.
“Rukawa Kaede” strode over with long legs, reaching out with a long arm to catch the basketball in a move as cool as the manga protagonist in person!
“Classmate, sorry—”
Wen Ying’s phone rang. She interrupted “Rukawa Kaede”‘s carefully prepared lines. “Sorry, I need to take this call.”
Well, this deviated a bit from the script.
But no problem. “Rukawa Kaede” was willing to wait.
Athletic did not mean barbaric. He had great gentlemanly demeanour.
Whatever the caller said, Wen Ying’s expression changed slightly. Ignoring the “Rukawa Kaede” standing before her, she turned and ran.
“Rukawa Kaede” stood there, one hand holding the basketball, the other clutching the semifinal ticket, bewildered and at a loss.
This was not how the script was supposed to go!!
