Chapter 107: Stirring Ambitions (Please Subscribe)

With Song Baineng’s arrival, Little Yellow Fish suddenly seemed to find a backbone, and all discussions about various plans began revolving around her.

First came the contract signing. Given Song Baineng’s special demands, after thorough deliberation, Little Yellow Fish decided to adopt a reciprocal approach: for every song successfully recorded by Song Baineng, the company would pay her a royalty of one hundred thousand yuan.

All commercial performance rights to the songs would be firmly held by Little Yellow Fish to prevent Song Baineng from privately accepting gigs and earning money on the side.

Other terms stipulated that Little Yellow Fish was obligated to help promote and beautify Song Baineng’s image.

If concerts were organized, Little Yellow Fish would negotiate pricing with Song Baineng based on her market value and sign contracts accordingly—provided she was willing.

Similarly, if Song Baineng agreed to shoot advertisements, Little Yellow Fish would unhesitatingly assist with contacts but would take a high commission.

The contract duration was set for three years, conveniently coinciding with Song Baineng’s university graduation.

If the cooperation went smoothly, they would draft a new contract at that time, to everyone’s satisfaction.

It appeared that Song Baineng was treated more like a machine; what Little Yellow Fish wanted was merely her voice to interpret the songs written by Liao Yuan.

At this stage, both parties met their needs, but upon closer examination, Song Baineng stood to gain more fame and fortune.

After all, with her vocal abilities in three years, the likelihood of becoming a popular singer was much higher.

However, due to copyright restrictions, even if Song Baineng switched companies after three years, she would have no right to perform Little Yellow Fish’s songs commercially.

In other words, whether for commercial performances or concerts, if Song Baineng sang a song, she would have to pay a breach of contract penalty.

The penalty was set quite high: ten million yuan per song.

This figure was determined by Fu Xiaoci.

In her words, to deal with rogues, one must use rogue methods.

This left Liao Yuan and others speechless.

What was even more baffling was that Song Baineng agreed to this outright.

Well, what a bunch of eccentrics.

Once the contract was signed, they quickly moved on to the first step for the singer’s debut: song production.

Liao Yuan composed several songs one after another, combining Song Baineng’s vocal qualities with her preferences.

Meanwhile, Little Yellow Fish had already added a list of recording equipment purchases to their agenda and put it into action. Once the machines arrived, they would immediately schedule Song Baineng to record.

Though the record industry had long since declined, the rise of digital music allowed singers, while continuously performing live gigs, to gain new income streams. Moreover, with proper copyright protection, digital music revenue gradually became the main source of income for popular singers.

In this model, Little Yellow Fish would launch the works on major music platforms with paid downloads. If a song went viral, the profits would be considerable.

At the same time, after two days of relentless effort, Tian Xingde, Xu Beihong, and others finally secured a buyer for the script "Signal."

Following the contact information provided by Liu Hai, they had met seven directors and four investors within two days.

In the end, only one person was willing to take it on.

“They all praised the script, but upon hearing that the company was owned by President Liao, everyone lost the desire to cooperate,” Tian Xingde adjusted his glasses and said helplessly, “President Liao’s recent remarks were just too impulsive.”

Liao Yuan pondered; of course, the remarks referred to his public outburst over the Han Yu incident some time ago.

“Yes,” Xu Beihong added, “I never expected that President Liao’s sister was Liao Meiqi. President Liao, I respect you as a man of principle. Do you know what your nickname online is right now?”

“What?” Liao Yuan asked curiously.

Xu Beihong paused, then said, “The ‘Overprotective Brother.’”

Liao Yuan rubbed his forehead. He rarely went online these days, seldom checking Weibo or even Jing Station, precisely to avoid encountering heated online comments.

Having experienced the peak of internet chaos, he was well aware of the terrifying nature of public opinion.

Fortunately, this time it was just “Overprotective Brother.” Had it been another word, Liao Yuan might have been furious enough to vomit blood.

“Fortunately, Meiliyuan Film and Television is still willing to negotiate with us. I’ve arranged with Director Liu to come to our company this afternoon to discuss specific cooperation.”

Tian Xingde continued, “They want to see the follow-up script for ‘Signal.’ If they’re satisfied, price won’t be an issue.”

“Does Meiliyuan Film and Television have strong backing?” Fu Xiaoci asked with curiosity. “Other companies hesitate because of Han Yu, but they don’t?”

Tian Xingde smiled, “Meiliyuan Film and Television has quite a history with Lemon Entertainment. To put it simply, back in 2013 when Meiliyuan was just starting, Lemon Entertainment poached the only talented actress from Changhe Film and Television, sparking a longstanding feud. When I met Director Liu Changhe, upon learning it was President Liao’s company, he kept giving thumbs up and praised you as a man of character.”

In the meeting room, Liao Yuan reviewed Meiliyuan Film and Television’s credentials, focusing especially on Chief Content Officer Liu Changhe’s resume.

Liu Changhe was a television director, relatively unknown domestically and considered a second-tier director. Though not famous, his company had long cooperated with Youxun Video Network, initially gaining traction through online mini-series, including a hit mini-series with two billion views.

At thirty-seven years old, he was at the peak of his career.

“Is there no other option?” Liao Yuan asked.

“There is,” Tian Xingde replied. “Hualong Film and Television showed interest initially; one of their producers agreed to negotiate with us. But after two days, we still haven’t heard back.”

Liao Yuan exchanged a glance with Liu Hai.

They had just snatched someone from Hualong’s vice president that morning; now they were hearing the name again in the afternoon.

After hearing the situation, Tian Xingde smiled bitterly, “So for now, Meiliyuan is our final choice.”

At three in the afternoon, Meiliyuan New Media Film and Television’s negotiation team arrived at Little Yellow Fish Cultural Company, led by Director Liu Changhe.

Liu Changhe was of average appearance, slightly overweight, with an unkempt look favoring plaid shirts.

Compared to the elite team that accompanied him, he seemed somewhat on the sidelines.

In the reception room, Liao Yuan and others welcomed them personally. After some polite exchanges, everyone took their seats.

“President Liao, I was actually more interested in ‘Ghost Blows Out the Light,’ but unfortunately Director Fu got it first,” Liu Changhe smiled.

“Still, it’s good to have this cooperation today. If it succeeds, I hope you’ll give us priority on your future scripts.”

Following Liu Changhe’s request, Liao Yuan handed over the follow-up script for "Signal" for him to review. The script was registered with the copyright center, so Liao Yuan wasn’t worried about Liu Changhe remaking it behind his back.

After skimming several storyboard segments, Liu Changhe exclaimed, “Are these cases real?”

“Entirely fictional,” Liao Yuan replied noncommittally.

Liu Changhe was amazed. “I’ve never seen a script with such strong suspense before. And each case is so systematically fictionalized. Haha, President Liao, you’re truly a storyteller.”

After further reading, he said, “Before coming here, we assessed the script’s price. Depending on the quality of subsequent episodes, we would pay between 50,000 to 100,000 yuan per episode. But since I really like this script, I’ll make a decision here: 150,000 yuan per episode. What do you think, President Liao?”

At 150,000 yuan per episode, with fifteen episodes planned, that totaled 2.25 million yuan.

Not only Liao Yuan, but even Fu Xiaoci and the others looked a bit displeased.

This price was already quite good for an average screenwriter.

But comparisons were inevitable. Liao Yuan’s “Ghost Blows Out the Light: The Lost City” had sold for seven million yuan in copyright fees after tax, and Director Fu had to adapt it carefully for filming.

“Signal” was a ready-made script, lacking the popularity background but comparatively priced rather low against “Ghost Blows Out the Light.”

Seeing their reaction, Liu Changhe quickly added, “Also, once the series is produced, we’ll give you a 5% share of the profits.”

If an episode sold to a TV station for five million yuan, Liao Yuan would receive 250,000 yuan per episode in royalties.

If sold to a video website, the 5% would vary depending on views, entirely based on final performance.

“Or, you could invest directly,” Liu Changhe offered again as Liao Yuan and the others remained silent.

He genuinely wanted to buy the script and build a good relationship with Liao Yuan, so he made his biggest concession: “I can decide to give you 15% of the final profits. President Liao, this is my utmost sincerity. If you’re still not satisfied, I’m afraid I have no other options!”

This was precisely the outcome Liao Yuan hoped for.

After asking a few questions, he didn’t haggle and agreed immediately.

As a newcomer, to make a name for himself and the company, he had to pay the price.

Moreover, 15% was already the share of a top-tier screenwriter. And since Liao Yuan had a fully formed script, unlike a staff writer, anything less would be wishful thinking.

After discussing contract details, both parties formally signed the agreement.

Meiliyuan Film and Television would initiate the project tomorrow, form a crew within a week, complete actor auditions within a month, and begin filming shortly after.

This rapid pace promised high efficiency and quicker returns.

“If this series succeeds, Little Yellow Fish can continue to survive—and thrive,” Liao Yuan thought.

That evening, Liao Yuan returned home and opened his laptop, searching online for information about Xinyuan Entertainment.

He had recently heard some news that made him uneasy.

Apparently, it wasn’t just Liao Yuan who wished to reclaim Liao Meiqi’s contract someday. All major agencies in the market were mobilizing, targeting the vulnerable Xinyuan Entertainment.

Everyone shared the same goal: to obtain Liao Meiqi’s management contract.

Xinyuan Entertainment was a new, easy target, so the industry was rife with restless undercurrents, as if whoever secured Liao Meiqi would rule the world.

Online rumors ran rampant. In just the past week, no fewer than ten agencies had negotiated with Xinyuan Entertainment, illustrating just how valuable Liao Meiqi had become.

And today marked only two months since the premiere of "Produce 101."