What did 2.8 million mean in 2005?
With that kind of money, unless Mr. Liu wanted the absolute top-tier Chinese celebrities, he could hire just about anyone else.
Wen Ying was utterly shocked.
She’d guessed Yuan Fenghui would aim for seven figures, but 2.8 million?
A 2.8 million endorsement fee, locked in for two years, meant Li Mengjiao would pocket 5.6 million.
Even after taxes, it was a hefty sum, and the share for Tianjiao Films could cover the company’s operating costs for two years.
A single star supporting an entire company wasn’t unheard of, but Li Mengjiao was a rookie!
“How did you pull that off?” Wen Ying asked.
Never one to look down on others despite her reborn perspective, Wen Ying knew strong women like Yuan Fenghui thrived without needing a second chance.
Take this 2.8 million deal—Wen Ying, despite her eloquence, couldn’t have done it!
If she’d negotiated with Mr. Liu, she’d have started at 2 million tops, haggled a few rounds, and settled for 1 million, or even 800,000 if pushed— not because she was incompetent, but because 2005’s prices weren’t like 2019’s, housing hadn’t skyrocketed, nor had celebrity fees, top stars maxed out at a few million, a nearly blacklisted rookie like Li Mengjiao had little leverage.
If Wen Ying were in Mr. Liu’s shoes, she’d think 500,000 was plenty.
In Chengdu, Sichuan’s capital, 500,000 could buy an apartment with an elevator, in Beijing or Shanghai, half a new flat, for a small-time rookie, 500,000 wasn’t bad—normally, rookies didn’t even qualify for endorsements, brands preferred famous stars.
Even if Li Mengjiao’s cut wasn’t 500,000, the client only cared about paying enough.
Negotiating 800,000 showed Wen Ying’s skill.
1 million would’ve taken everything she had.
But 2.8 million… Yuan Fenghui was incredible! Wen Ying was eager to learn.
Having worked with Wen Ying multiple times, Yuan Fenghui had never seen such raw admiration in her eyes.
She wanted to laugh but held back, not revealing her negotiation details with Mr. Liu, instead asking if they’d eaten.
Li Mengjiao shook her head honestly, “Station staff asked, but since you hadn’t eaten, we waited.”
At least she had some conscience.
Yuan Fenghui took them to a clean restaurant outside the station, ordering light dishes for Li Mengjiao, while she and Wen Ying ate fish and meat, seeing Li Mengjiao’s longing gaze, Yuan Fenghui warned, “Don’t think that 2.8 million is easy money, signing with Mr. Liu makes you a registered rookie, this industry looks glamorous but isn’t easy, for one, you’ll have to curb your appetite!”
Li Mengjiao, pursuing both acting and singing, had to maintain her figure and protect her voice.
Burgers, fried chicken, and cola were off-limits.
Hotpot, BBQ, and skewers—best avoided.
High sugar, salt, and oil were to steer clear of, her diet stricter than Wen Ying’s weight-loss plan!
Some people might eat anything and stay slim, but Li Mengjiao, already lucky, couldn’t expect to be that exceptional.
Not gaining weight now was due to teenage metabolism burning calories fast, but past 25, with a slower metabolism, eating freely would pack on pounds!
Yuan Fenghui wasn’t starving Li Mengjiao, but building habits now would ease future struggles.
Wen Ying, picking fish into her bowl, agreed with Yuan Fenghui.
“I’m talking to you, why sneak glances at Wen Ying? You’re not her, she relies on talent, fat or thin doesn’t affect her smarts, but you? A camera adds ten pounds, if you gorge like Yun Chen, see how I deal with you!” Yuan Fenghui, fresh off securing 2.8 million, had the authority to say this.
Li Mengjiao knew she was right, Wen Ying, ever humble, flattered Yuan Fenghui, using public chopsticks to pick a tender, boneless piece of fish belly for her, “My little smarts are nothing compared to you, I need your guidance.”
Guidance on what?
How to land a 2.8 million deal?
Yuan Fenghui accepted Wen Ying’s gesture, quickly finished lunch, and took them back to the station.
“The price is set, but we need to make Mr. Liu feel his money’s well spent, he said record the song this afternoon, Mengjiao, no matter how many takes, get it perfect.”
Song recording in the afternoon, ad shooting tomorrow, Mr. Liu was the paying boss, so they followed his lead.
Yuan Fenghui wouldn’t spill how she secured the fee, dangling it like a bone to keep Wen Ying curious, sending her on errands all afternoon, Wen Ying, eager to learn, fawned over her.
To others, Wen Ying’s actions looked like brown-nosing.
The station had no secrets.
While Li Mengjiao recorded, Yuan Fenghui and Mr. Liu signed the contract.
A 2.8 million annual fee—who’d dare say Li Mengjiao wasn’t a big deal?
Mr. Guan, hearing the news, felt his heart, liver, and spleen ache.
2.8 million!
Xu Mei’s album sold well, with acting and gigs since last year’s show, but her total earnings for the company didn’t hit 2.8 million.
The album’s revenue wasn’t due yet, Mr. Guan could only estimate, but production had costs, Xu Mei’s promotion fees were high, plus resources swapped for publicity—all upfront company costs.
Acting was even less profitable, it was for fame, not fees.
Taiwan idol dramas had tight budgets, leads got the most, followed by the second male lead, Xu Mei, as second female, ranked fourth, earning less than a fraction of Li Mengjiao’s fee after two months in Taiwan!
Commercial gigs brought some cash, with the company taking 80%, Xu Mei’s packed schedule since the show left her with little after buying presentable clothes, her glamour was surface-deep, no wonder Young Master Cao’s private extra payment for a gig moved her.
Thinking of letting go of Li Mengjiao, with her 2.8 million fee, Mr. Guan found Xu Mei less appealing.
But in front of his wife, Liang Dan, he’d never admit his mistake, blaming Mr. Liu’s foolish spending, 2.8 million for a rookie!
“Who could’ve guessed? Xu Mei really lacks some luck,” Mr. Guan grumbled, dabbling in superstition, blaming her bad fortune.
Liang Dan looked at her husband coldly, too angry to speak.
