“Invest more now, profit more later!”
Yuan Fenghui’s voice was full of persuasion, “Look, you invested 500,000 before, right? Got back over a million with profits. Where would you find such returns in a bank?”
Of course, banks offered little interest.
But wait, that’s not what Yuan Fenghui said before.
She used to talk about investment risks and caution.
Now, to empty Wen Ying’s wallet, she’d tossed aside all restraint.
“Teacher Yuan, you’ve been keeping tabs on *Teen Idol*’s sales, haven’t you?”
As long as Yuan Fenghui wanted to know, she had ways to get rough sales figures for *Teen Idol*. Sponsoring the writing contest had brought her closer to Zou Weijun, and Wen Ying doubted Zou could fend off Yuan’s prying.
Knowing the sales data meant estimating Wen Ying’s royalty income, leading to today’s push for another million in investment!
Wen Ying’s question dodged the point. Yuan Fenghui smiled slightly, “No, I’m concerned about you.”
, Concerned about you, so I track your book’s sales. Touched?
Hardly.
Wen Ying felt small, pitiful, and helpless.
Making a wronged expression, her mind raced.
Another million was affordable, but it would tie up all her funds in *Galaxy and You*. With a drama’s filming cycle, it’d take at least six months to recoup the investment… If she earned a bit more, could a Shanghai riverside flat turn into a luxury mansion?
Everyone’s greedy.
Gamblers say: take a chance, turn a bike into a motorbike—win big, live large; lose, work hard.
Cough, not that extreme. At worst, she’d earn less. With Li Mengjiao and Yun Chen’s popularity, plus *The Princess’s New Clothes*’s peak % rating, *Galaxy and You* would have to try hard to lose money!
Wen Ying agreed inwardly but replied reluctantly, “Teacher Yuan, I’ll follow your lead and add another million. Now you’ve really cleaned me out.”
The little fox played it well!
Yuan Fenghui laughed, “Come on, I’m helping you earn more, why the sulky face? I’ve always treated your investments seriously. When *The Princess’s New Clothes*’s peripheral copyrights settle, you and Xie Qian will get profit shares.”
A drama’s revenue wasn’t just from broadcast rights.
A hit like *The Princess’s New Clothes* made money from DVD sales, though that market was tough. Legit DVDs couldn’t compete with pirated ones; most viewers rented pirated discs, with only a few collecting legit ones.
The soundtrack album sold better, thanks to Li Mengjiao and Yun Chen’s fame.
Wen Ying and Xie Qian’s share from the soundtrack was tiny, but Yuan Fenghui said the album sold well post-drama success. Even a small percentage added up.
Having profited from *The Princess’s New Clothes*’s soundtrack, Yuan Fenghui valued *Galaxy and You*’s album, actively involving Huang Yongjuan to boost its quality for another profit wave!
Looking ahead, beyond DVDs and soundtracks, future broadcasts on other platforms would bring copyright fees, a steady income stream tempting Wen Ying to resist Shanghai’s low housing prices and pour more into *Galaxy and You*!
Having agreed, Wen Ying belatedly realised she hadn’t told Xie Qian.
What if his logistics company needed funds?
The next day at school, she mentioned it to Xie Qian, who supported her, “Invest more if you want. Weren’t you eyeing Tianjiao shares? When *Galaxy and You* sells its broadcast rights next year, your profits will cover the shares.”
, No, I also want a riverside mansion! At least a riverside flat!
Wen Ying felt torn.
Shares were a must—laying hens that produced eggs.
But a riverside flat… her obsession. She just hadn’t earned enough to satisfy her desires.
A high schooler earning millions in a year, complaining it’s too little—good thing Wen Ying didn’t say it aloud, or the Versailles vibe would’ve been overwhelming!
She looked up at Xie Qian.
The closer they got, the more she dreaded something happening to him.
One or two Shanghai flats wouldn’t avert his fate—not necessarily a money issue. Riverside flats wouldn’t cut it. Money didn’t guarantee influence; social impact did.
Fame, status, and societal value combined into social influence.
In that moment, Wen Ying followed her heart. Her obsession with a riverside flat faded. Buy it if possible, fine if not. This life’s joy of reliving youth and fixing regrets was worth more than any flat.
Wen Ying let go, prioritizing Tianjiao shares over a riverside flat, indefinitely postponed!
“You’re right. Invest more, earn more, buy Tianjiao shares first, other things later.”
Before deciding, she was reluctant. Once resolved, she stopped fretting, eagerly anticipating tomorrow’s writing contest promotion.
Xie Qian, though, pondered her unspoken words.
Other things—Shanghai housing?
The hamster was still hung up on that.
He agreed housing could wait. Wen Ying wasn’t even 18, a minor. Buying a house would involve guardians.
There was a way to buy without tying up funds: a down payment with monthly repayments!
But as a minor with no steady job, Wen Ying wouldn’t qualify for a bank loan.
Unless she turned 18 next year, became a Tianjiao shareholder, and used her shares as collateral—Xie Qian wasn’t thinking of ordinary Shanghai flats. Those cost a million or so, no need for loans. Either don’t buy, or buy a prime location with a big layout, including a large study!
Wen Ying had shelved housing plans to focus on her career.
Xie Qian thought, career first, but housing too.
Waiting for logistics profits was less promising than hoping the Hongqiao Airport land got requisitioned soon.
As before, Xie Qian kept the riverside flat in mind.
On November 3 morning, Wen Ying, Li Mengjiao, Yun Chen, and Zhang Yangning updated their blogs simultaneously, launching the first wave of “Tianjiao Spark Cup” promotion.
The portal site gave some traffic support, with the “Tianjiao Spark Cup” keyword appearing on its homepage!
