Chapter Fifty-Two: The Second Generation of Wealth

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Liao Yuan woke up early in the morning, only to have his phone crash completely from the barrage of notifications popping up endlessly from the Jili Gulu app. With every button rendered useless, he had no choice but to remove the battery, restart the device, and log back into the base station.

“Master, could you carry me through a few rounds?”
“Hey friend, interested in joining the ‘One Emperor Four Kings’ event?”
“Damn, whose alternate account are you?”
“J Station UP Creators Chat Group: 63390160. You’re welcome to join.”
“Big bro, where did you buy your S-277 Steinway?”
“Hey handsome, do you remember me? I’m Fu Xiaoci! The beautiful, busty streamer you met the other day at the Steinway showroom…”
“Hello, Uncle A, we’re from Zhiyuan Music. We’d like to discuss an advertising collaboration—would you play one of our pianos in your next video? Payment will be based on click rates. If interested, please reply.”

…

Staring at the deluge of messages, Liao Yuan hesitated for a moment, then deleted them all with a single tap. He set his phone to block further messages and returned to the main page to check the stats for “The Fact That You Left” and “Unravel.”

After three days of going viral, “The Fact That You Left” had reached 150,000 plays, and “Unravel,” only uploaded yesterday, had already surpassed 80,000. This was the result of the official editor’s recommendation on the homepage of the music section.

For an ordinary newcomer, these numbers would have been cause for wild celebration, but Liao Yuan took it all in stride, almost with a Zen-like detachment. Still, since he did intend to make money from this, he knew he had to post piano pieces regularly to attract an audience.

So, what should he play today?

The first slanting ray of morning sunlight crept through the window as Liao Yuan pondered his next piano piece while getting up to wash.

As for the “One Emperor Four Kings” piano competition, announced across all platforms the night before, Liao Yuan did find it somewhat intriguing. But the moment he saw that it required an in-person showdown at the opera house, his interest faded away entirely.

Today was a rest day. At noon, Liao Yuan had arranged to meet Fu Yuntao, the director of “Produce 101,” at a private farmhouse restaurant to discuss the film rights price for “Ghost Blows Out the Light.” Besides his assistant Liu Hai, Fu Yuntao had also brought a lawyer friend specializing in copyright deals.

“Ding Qiang, if Mr. Liao isn’t satisfied with the copyright fee, adjust the price as needed,” Fu Yuntao said, pouring tea for the lawyer with a friendly smile. “As long as it’s not outrageous, it’s fine to go above market rate.”

“Director Fu, the current offer is already sky-high, you know? And you still want to be generous?” Ding Qiang replied in surprise. “I found time yesterday to listen to a few episodes of ‘Ghost Blows Out the Light’—it’s certainly strange and fascinating. But Liao Yuan is still a newcomer, and he doesn’t have an agency. The fee you’re offering is already quite good for the company, let alone for an individual!”

Fu Yuntao waved a hand and laughed. “So long as Mr. Liao is satisfied, price isn’t an issue. You must understand, we’re only acquiring the rights to one installment of the ‘Ghost Blows Out the Light’ series. If I want to buy the rights to the entire series, I have to leave a good impression on Mr. Liao first.”

Ding Qiang looked seriously at Fu Yuntao. “Director Fu, is variety television not profitable anymore? Why the move into film and TV dramas?”

Clearly, Ding Qiang was skeptical about Fu Yuntao’s pivot to scripted projects. But Fu Yuntao wasn’t bothered in the least.

Only by trying will you know what’s possible. He believed in his own abilities as a director. Be it drama or film, as long as he was given the right script and team, he was confident he could deliver.

He had high hopes for “Ghost Blows Out the Light.” Even though Liao Yuan was a nobody until now, this one stunning work was enough to make Fu Yuntao take notice. In his eyes, both the vivid imagery and the storytelling of “Ghost Blows Out the Light” set it apart as a rare gem in recent years. What’s more, as the first ever “tomb-raiding” novel, it stirred his creative passion all the more.

Liao Yuan arrived at the farmhouse with a newly purchased black briefcase, and Fu Yuntao and his party greeted him with the utmost enthusiasm. But before they could get down to business, Liao Yuan took a bank card from his briefcase and handed it to Fu Yuntao, who looked at him in bewilderment.

“Mr. Liao, what’s this?”

“There’s a hundred thousand yuan on this card,” Liao Yuan replied. “Director Fu, don’t misunderstand—this isn’t for you, it’s pocket money for my sister. The show doesn’t allow contestants to contact the outside world, but since you and I are acquainted, this was the only way I could think of.”

“One hundred thousand…” Fu Yuntao was visibly startled, then patiently explained, “Mr. Liao, you may have misunderstood our program. For the contestants, everything—food, clothing, lodging, and travel—is covered. Whatever treatment our staff gets, the contestants receive as well. So I don’t think your sister will really need this money.”

At that moment, Fu Yuntao’s impression of Liao Yuan subtly shifted. At first sight, he’d pegged him as an ordinary office worker—perhaps a bit more handsome than most. Yet here he was, casually handing over a hundred thousand as pocket money for his sister. This was unmistakably the behavior of a wealthy heir.

If that was the case, then ordinary copyright prices would never appeal to someone who wasn’t short of money.

“Is that so?” Liao Yuan raised his brows, then took back the bank card with a satisfied smile. “That’s wonderful, then. I hope you’ll keep your word, Director Fu. I watched the premiere of ‘101’ last night, and frankly, my sister’s attire was disappointing compared to the other contestants. She’s been sensible and independent since childhood, but she pays little attention to her appearance. If what you say is true, then please ask your stylists to take better care of her. For the sake of the show, don’t keep making her wear the same two outfits. Even if nothing else, the audience will get tired of seeing the same thing. Don’t you agree?”

“Mr. Liao, you’re absolutely right.” A faint sheen of sweat appeared on Fu Yuntao’s forehead. He coughed, then barked at his assistant, Liu Hai, “Did you hear that? Make a note—it’s a priority!”

Liu Hai felt wronged but hurriedly agreed.

Ding Qiang, observing this scene, now looked at Liao Yuan with newfound seriousness. Though Liao Yuan appeared no more than twenty-four or twenty-five, his sophistication in handling people and matters was remarkable—like a seasoned hand who’d been steeped in society’s ways for decades.

In just a few sentences, he’d not only voiced his concern at his sister’s unfair treatment but also, indirectly, raised his own value.

How many ordinary people could casually give a relative a hundred thousand for pocket money?

At that moment, Ding Qiang began to understand why Fu Yuntao insisted on being generous. The usual prices would never impress someone with such resources. If they wanted to secure the rights for the second and third installments of “Ghost Blows Out the Light,” they’d have to show genuine sincerity from the very start—otherwise, there would be no future cooperation.