raknovel Chapter 82 Choice
Chapter 82 Choice
The more she thought about it, the clearer it became for her—she had never had any roots.
To outsiders, she seems to hold considerable importance, but when it comes to crucial moments, she is never the indispensable core figure.
It's just a link that can be replaced at any time; whoever takes over, things will still run smoothly.
When Jingcheng first approached her, he immediately talked about resource integration.
They said they could help her replan her career path and create a business empire unique to her.
The words sound nice, but the subtext is blunt and hurtful.
You are replaceable here, but you are unique here.
So at that time, she didn't directly refuse.
Now that this supplementary explanation is on the table, it has effectively blocked most of her escape routes.
The cause and effect flashed through her mind, and she clearly calculated the pros and cons of signing or not signing.
She picked up the pen, gripped the handle tightly with her fingertips, and wrote her name stroke by stroke.
The legal representative put away the documents and nodded politely.
"Thanks."
The legal representative quietly got up, closed the door, and left.
Yang Shanshan remained seated, motionless.
The water glass on the table was still more than half full of water, with fine water droplets condensing on the glass. The droplets slid slowly down the glass, leaving a shallow mark on the table.
She didn't regret signing the document; it was a correct move. But her heart felt heavy, and she felt no relief whatsoever.
That guy surnamed Zeng will never let her off easily.
---
The setting of the Nine Heavens was even more magnificent than Dilireba had imagined.
The props team set up three artificial peach trees, with layers of silk petals piled on the branches. Looking up, they almost covered most of the roof, with only a few metal lamp holders showing.
The crew ran back and forth setting up camera positions, while the photographer squatted beside the track adjusting the lens.
Occasionally, someone would shout out directions at the top of their lungs, the sound echoing around the shed before quickly dissipating.
Dilireba leaned against the set, and a stagehand tiptoed to help her adjust her hair ornament.
She turned to the side and looked into the depths of the set.
Her jawline is sharp and well-defined, her nose is straight, and her eyes naturally have a slight curve at the corners. When she doesn't smile, she has a cool and aloof air, exuding an ethereal beauty; when the corners of her lips are slightly upturned, she is both soft and charming.
Dressed in ancient costume, she looked perfectly natural and so dazzling that it was impossible to look away.
A thin gauze wall stood in the ninth heaven, directly facing the main light source.
The light filtered through the gauze curtains, spreading a soft glow that made the peach trees appear even more vibrant.
Even the edges of the petals were tinged with a light sheen.
She stared at that soft light for a long time.
The question I wanted to ask was stuck in my throat, churning over and over, but I couldn't find the right moment to speak.
"Sister Dilraba, it's done."
The stagehand gently reminded him and took two steps back.
She withdrew her gaze and slowly stepped into the set.
"Stand here."
The director waved to her from behind the monitor, "Let me check the composition."
She walked to the designated spot and stood under the peach tree.
I turned my face to face the main light source, and the screen wall was just two steps behind me.
The soft light enveloped her, and the tassels on her headdress swayed gently before coming to rest.
Standing there, she looks exactly like Bai Qian who stepped out of the book.
After a few seconds of silence in front of the monitor, the director immediately spoke:
"Yes, right here, don't move."
The assistant leaned closer and asked in a low voice:
"Sister Dilraba, what were you thinking about just now? I called you twice and you didn't answer."
"Following the word." She replied with two words indifferently.
The assistant nodded and tactfully stepped aside.
Actually, she wasn't even reciting the lyrics.
Bai Qian's lines were memorized perfectly three weeks ago.
The first scene only has two lines of dialogue, a question and an answer, which can be memorized in three minutes.
There's no need to improvise on the spot.
She found herself thinking of that person again without even realizing it; she's been doing this a lot lately.
"Ready!"
The director's voice suddenly rang out, "Take one, action!"
The camera's red light flashed instantly.
---
In the Shanghai Theatre Academy's acting classes, improvisation exercises are always based on questions given by the teachers on the spot.
No pre-prepared scenes are allowed; if you say you've prepared, you'll lose the spontaneity of improvisation.
This time it was Chu Ran's turn, and the scenario the teacher presented was very simple.
Waiting for something uncertain for a long time, there may be a result, or it may be all for nothing.
She walked onto the stage in her canvas shoes and stood in the center of the classroom.
The warm yellow light shone evenly on my face, without any extra layers.
But she stood there quietly, her figure slender and upright, her eyes carrying the gentleness of a girl from Jiangnan, yet also revealing the keenness of an actress, cool and clean.
She didn't deliberately show off her skills; she just stood there with her eyes downcast, letting the emptiness of waiting seep into her very being.
Waiting for something that has no future.
She had waited like this in the courtyard before when she played Yu Wanyin.
It wasn't in the script; the director didn't yell "cut" after the lines were spoken.
The camera was still rolling, and she stood there alone, feeling utterly lost.
Later, when I watched the rough cut, that sense of bewilderment and helplessness was completely captured by the camera.
She extracted that emptiness and merged it into her current state.
It's not about deliberately recalling, but simply capturing the essence of the emotions.
It spreads upwards from the feet, enveloping the entire body.
The audience was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
The teacher leaned against the podium, saying nothing.
She stood on the stage for forty seconds before the teacher spoke:
"Okay, get down now."
She walked back to her seat, and the classmate next to her leaned over and whispered:
"What were you thinking about just now? Your eyes looked completely different than usual."
"I wasn't thinking about anything."
She twirled the pen between her fingers, responding calmly.
The classmate curled his lip, not believing it at all:
"You're really not just imagining things? Who are you kidding?"
"No, really."
She wasn't lying; she really wasn't overthinking things.
That emptiness wasn't acted out; it came directly from Yu Wanyin. It's indescribable, but just being in the right place is enough.
Some emotions, once explained clearly, lose their charm.
She's recently figured out this principle.
Just as Chu Ran was taking a break between classes, her phone vibrated.
It was a message from Tian Xiwei, and the words were so sweet and gentle.
"You practiced the physical action method again today, and it went much better. How was your performance class?"
Chu Ran stared at the screen for two seconds, then typed four words:
"One passed."
Tian Xiwei replied almost instantly, her tone carrying a hint of dissatisfaction:
"That's it? Will talking a little more hurt you?"
Chu Ran lightly tapped the screen with her fingertip and replied simply:
"Let's talk after class."
Tian Xiwei didn't dawdle:
"Okay, call me when you're free."
Chu Ran placed her phone face down on the corner of the table.
The backpack strap slipped off the back of the chair, and she caught it.
I stuffed a handout into my bag, zipped it up, and waited for class to start.
---
Suddenly, Xu Wen outside shouted at the top of his lungs:
"There's been a new development from Jingcheng's side."
Zeng Hao got up from his chair and walked to Xu Wen's table.
Xu Wen turned the computer screen around and tapped the page with his fingertip:
"The business registration change: three days ago, Jingcheng acquired 8% of the shares of a small company. The price was ridiculously low; they weren't interested in the company itself at all."
Zeng Hao glanced at the company name but remained silent.
"I did some research on the background."
Xu Wen leaned back in his chair and continued.
"The founder of this company had worked with another agency three years ago. Later, the company dissolved, and one of the employees went to Yang Shanshan's former company."
Zeng Hao went through the chain of relationships in his mind and instantly understood.
Jingcheng bought this small company because of the middleman.
The relationships are layered, and while they appear to be all normal business dealings, when put together, they form a well-laid web.
Instead of rushing to find a breakthrough, the other party slowly built up channels, waiting for the right opportunity to take action and close the net.
What does this company mainly do?
Zeng Hao spoke, his tone flat.
"Accompanying artists in business ventures and facilitating brand endorsements."
Xu Wen glanced down at the screen and replied truthfully.
Zeng Hao understood the situation and didn't ask any more questions.
Just then, Chen's business representative called, his tone polite but perfunctory:
"The platform has stopped mentioning revenue sharing and is now asking for a window of opportunity, wanting to extend it from 30 days to 60 days. They say they need to invest heavily in promotion, and a shorter window wouldn't be worthwhile."
Zeng Hao moved the documents beside him to the left, not interrupting the other person, and listened quietly.
"I understand you," Chen continued, seemingly oblivious to the situation. "You're definitely going to try and pressure people with the contract terms again."
"No," Zeng Hao said calmly. "No terms this time."
Chen Shangwu paused for a moment, his tone full of doubt:
"So how do you want to discuss this?"
"The peak viewership for the premiere is entirely within the first three days; this is the platform's own data. If you look at the viewership curves of similar period dramas, you'll see how drastically they drop after three days. The 30-day and 60-day windows have absolutely no impact on the peak viewership."
There was no response from the other end of the phone. Zeng Hao held his phone and waited quietly.
Twenty seconds later, Chen's voice trailed off:
"...It really didn't have any impact."
"That's right." Zeng Hao leaned back in his chair and said slowly, "30 days is already enough to cover the peak period. Extending it to 60 days would be a complete loss."
The platform's content department knows this stuff inside and out.
"Then why did they make this request?" Chen, the business manager, had abandoned his negotiating stance and was simply asking for advice.
"Because they think you'll obediently agree," Zeng Hao said casually, directly exposing the other party's ulterior motives.
Chen, the business manager, sighed, feeling both helpless and resigned to his fate.
"Okay, I understand. It'll be 30 days. We can discuss the promotion separately."
"Take the promotional talks if possible, but don't tie it to the window of opportunity. Keep these two things separate and don't mix them up."
"What are you arguing with me about? I'm just a mouthpiece," Chen Shangwu couldn't help but complain.
"Just send it over."
"...Alright then."
After hanging up the phone, Xu Wen looked up from the chair in the corner.
He put the documents on his lap onto the table.
"Can the platform be finalized today?"
"Uncertain." Zeng Hao tossed his phone back onto the table and said casually, "The content department has to go through procedures, so it won't be until tomorrow at the earliest."
"If the schedule is locked in, then we can calculate the payment time, right?" Xu Wen asked, resting his chin on his hand.
"The first batch of revenue sharing will arrive 60 days after the premiere." Zeng Hao mentally reviewed the progress. "Ning An Ru Meng will air at the earliest in the second quarter of next year, and the payment will be received in the third quarter. With the final payment for Cheng He Ti Tong added, the books will look much better."
Xu Wen silently calculated in his mind, a smirk secretly creeping onto his lips.
He quickly suppressed the urge and continued flipping through the documents.
Many people in the industry have been tricked by this platform.
Historical dramas attracted 40-50% of viewership in the first three days, but then the viewership declined steadily.
Changing the timeframe from 30 days to 60 days is a complete loss for the production company.
Only Zeng Hao, a seasoned veteran, could see through the trick at a glance.
At 2 PM, Chen, the business manager, sent me a message.
The content department has agreed to a 30-day window of opportunity, with promotion details to be discussed separately.
Xu Wen leaned over to look at the phone, and said with a smile:
"It's done."
He turned around, sat back down at his workstation, and continued working.
Zeng Hao delegated the task of contacting the brand to Xu Wen.
He hid in his office and didn't show up.
Xu Wen made three phone calls in a row. The first two business representatives both asked:
"Can't we go through an intermediary? Why does it have to be a direct contract?"
Xu Wen followed Zeng Hao's instructions:
"The company integrates resources, direct signing is efficient, and there are fewer disputes."
Neither of the business representatives agreed on the spot, saying they needed to discuss it internally.
Xu Wen went back to report, and Zeng Hao asked her to add a condition:
"The next promotional slot will be prioritized for these two companies."
Xu Wen dialed the number again and settled the matter with both companies in twenty minutes.
The third company, which was already following the direct signing process, sent the contract attachments on the same day.
The signature and return were completed in one smooth motion.
Zeng Hao carefully put away the three contracts, and the matter was finally settled.
Jingcheng went to great lengths to find loopholes in the business.
As a result, the road was blocked as soon as the channel was laid.
Xu Wen didn't understand these intricacies and simply thought it was a normal process of integrating resources.
After compiling the contracts, I sent a notification to each artist's team.
Going forward, all brand collaborations will be conducted through direct contracts with the company.
Feedback from the artists has been coming in one after another, with several sending their thanks.
This new regulation has saved them a lot of trouble.
Xu Wen compiled the screenshots and gathered them at the door of Zeng Hao's office.
He poked his head in and said with a smile:
"Everyone is quite happy."
"Um."
Zeng Hao stared at the document without even looking up.
"Do you want to see the screenshot?"
"Need not."
Xu Wen put his phone back in his pocket and stood at the door muttering to himself.
You're just doing this to block Jingcheng?
Zeng Hao moved the contract to the corner of the table and didn't reply.
Xu Wen glanced at him, muttered something under his breath, and quietly slipped out, closing the door behind him.
The final scene of "Three Lives Three Worlds" is scheduled for evening.
Six rows of palace lanterns hung from the crossbeams of the Ninth Heaven, their wicks a warm yellow, casting swaying shadows on the ground when the wind blew.
The props crew jogged past Dilireba, carrying two spare incense sticks in their hands, and didn't have time to greet her.
She stood in the waiting area, her back to the set, holding a script card in her hand, the corner of the card already curled up.
She memorized this scene forty times.
It wasn't because the words were difficult, but because the last sentence always seemed off-key to her.
Peng Bing walked over from beside the monitor. "Dilraba, are you ready?"
"alright."
She tucked the script into her sleeve and turned to walk into the set.
The lights shone down, the warm yellow of the palace lanterns and the white light of the ceiling lamps overlapping, and she stood in the light, closing her eyes for a moment.
Turn on.
This scene was filmed in two takes.
The first clip was accepted. Peng Bing didn't say anything. The assistant cameraman pushed the monitor screen in front of him. "Second clip."
After the second clip was collected, he spent even less time looking at the monitor. "Okay, package the scene."
Dilireba took out the script card from her sleeve and tore it up.
The fact that the set was taken over means that all of her scenes in "Eternal Love" have been completed.
The production manager shouted from the side, "Dilraba's scenes are all done! Thank you all for your hard work!"
The applause from the crew was scattered; some were clapping, some were packing up equipment, and some were scrolling through their phones.
Dilireba raised her hand and pulled the hairpin out of her hair, letting her hair fall down and rest on her left shoulder.
She didn't change her clothes immediately.
The temple banquet was held at a private restaurant near the film set. Two round tables were reserved, and the core members of the film crew, several lead actors, and Zeng Hao were invited.
Zeng Hao arrived early.
When Dilireba entered, Zeng Hao was leaning back in the corner of the private room, holding his phone with the screen facing him, his face expressionless.
She stood at the door for a second.
The costume and props staff came in and handed her a coat. She took it, walked to the table, and sat down, two seats away from Peng Bing.
As the dishes were served and the wine was poured, Peng Bing raised his glass and said, "Thank you all for your hard work." A chorus of clinking glasses erupted from below, filling the private room with lively chatter.
Zeng Hao remained silent.
He took a sip of tea, turned his phone over, and placed it face down on the table.
Dilireba turned her head to the side and just happened to see this action.
She picked up a piece of food with her chopsticks.
As the banquet progressed into its second half, the assistant director began selecting entertainment. Some people picked up the microphone to sing, while others declined to sing. The laughter in the private room was even louder than when the banquet had started.
Zeng Hao got up and walked towards the door.
Dilireba glanced at the teacup beside her, stood up, and said, "I'm going to get some fresh air."
The lights in the corridor were dimmer than in the private rooms, with only a row of recessed lights on the ceiling casting shadows from above.
Zeng Hao leaned against the window at the end of the corridor. The window was open, and outside was the backyard with a few low trees whose shadows swayed in the wind.
Dilireba walked over and stood next to him.
It was quiet outside, but the singing inside seemed very distant through the door.
She hadn't figured out how to start the conversation.
I actually thought about it for a long time. On set, in the dormitory, when receiving the script, and while waiting for the camera to start rolling, I came up with many different versions of the script, arranged them in order, then overturned them and rearranged them again.
It's all useless now that we're here.
She began, "Do you know why I came to this film crew?"
Zeng Hao didn't make a move. "The schedule is right, and the script is right."
"Yes." She nodded. "That's how it was at first."
The shadows of the trees outside the window shifted slightly, and light filtered through the gaps in the branches, casting fragmented shadows on her profile.
"That wasn't the case later," she said. "Later, every time I thought about coming to the set, I thought about you being there, and that made it all worthwhile."
Zeng Hao took his hand down from the windowsill.
She continued, "I know you don't like hearing this kind of talk. I also know that saying it might not be helpful. But I want to finish what I'm saying, because if I don't say it today, I'll remember this corridor, remember standing here, swallowing my words."
"I don't want to remember that."
The corridor was quiet for about four seconds.
Zeng Hao turned his head and glanced at her.
She didn't dodge.
He raised his hand, brushed the strands of hair that had fallen over her left shoulder behind her ear, paused his fingers near her ear for a second, and then withdrew them.
Just this action.
He didn't speak.
Dilireba's heart pounded heavily in her ears. She remained standing, her gaze still fixed on his face.
He gestured with his chin toward the private room. "Go in, the food's getting cold."
She followed him back, and at the door, the assistant director shoved a microphone into her hand, saying it was her turn to sing. She took it, smiled, and said she could sing whatever she wanted.
Throughout the second half of the banquet, she smiled normally, discussed her next film's schedule with Peng Bing, chatted with the photographer next to her, and stopped the production manager from offering her a drink.
Everything is the same as it was three hours ago.
Only when she sat back down did her hand touch the back of the chair and she noticed that the coat was still draped over it, collar facing out.
He hung it up when he came in.
She didn't touch it.
The banquet ended at 9:30.
They dispersed in the parking lot, with Zeng Hao waiting for Xu Wen to retrieve the car.
Dilireba walked past him, paused for a moment, and without turning around, said, "I'm done."
Then go.
Xu Wen shoved the car keys into Zeng Hao's hand. "Boss, what did Sister Di just say?"
"It's nothing."
Xu Wen glanced up at the parking lot. "Oh, okay, I'll go call a designated driver—"
"No need." Zeng Hao opened the car door and got in.
Xu Wen stood there, holding the folder, rolled his eyes at the sky, and said to the air, "The contract terms are all clearly stated, but they won't say a word more about this kind of thing, sigh."
Then I jogged to catch up.
The next morning, in the conference room of Sunshine Entertainment.
Xu Wen placed the publicity and distribution schedule for "Ning An Ru Meng" in front of Zeng Hao, saying, "Director Peng has confirmed the rough cut and submitted the film. Color grading will be finished this week, and it will be submitted for review next week."
"Have the submitted materials been reviewed?"
"It's been approved. The three lines of dialogue will be handled according to the previous plan, and the visuals are fine."
Zeng Hao flipped to the third page of the progress chart. "Move the pre-release promotion timeline for iQiyi forward by a week. Don't push it to the approval results; build up buzz first."
Xu Wen wrote in the notes section, "Do you need to communicate directly with General Manager Chen, or should I handle it?"
"Go tell them, I'll send you the plan this afternoon."
The meeting room door wasn't completely closed, and footsteps from the corridor outside leaked in through a crack.
Xu Wen paused for a moment, then said, "Boss, at the temple banquet last night, I thought Sister Di seemed to have spoken to you about something—"
"Publicity and marketing plan."
"...Never mind." Xu Wen put the progress chart back into the folder. "Then I'll ask one last question. For the promotional materials for the male lead of Ning An Ru Meng, should we make a set of Zhang Linghe's own posters to differentiate him from the general version used by the production team, and create a separate hashtag for him?"
Zeng Hao glanced at him and said, "Do it."
"Okay." Xu Wen stood up, walked to the door, turned back, and said, "By the way, boss, after the show ended last night, Sister Di posted a message on her WeChat Moments. It was just one word, 'Okay.' I just glanced at it casually; I didn't mean to peek at her Moments. I really didn't—"
"roll."
Xu Wen opened the door, a smile he had been holding back for a long time on his face, and went out.
At the other end of the corridor, Sister Liu placed a detailed expense statement on Zeng Hao's assistant's desk, with Yang Shanshan's management team's monthly appearance fee settlement request slip at the bottom.
The requested amount is incorrect.
An extra column was reported.
Sister Liu circled the number in that line, but instead of reporting it immediately, she went to find the contract appendix to retrieve the business revenue sharing clause.
Shanghai Theatre Academy, rehearsal hall.
Chu Ran threw her backpack on the steps, found a corner to sit down, flattened the analysis draft she needed to submit for her acting class, and flipped through it again.
Tian Xiwei sidled up beside her, "Finished writing?"
"Finished writing."
"What were they talking about?"
"The misalignment between the character's external actions and inner intentions in 'To Live'."
Tian Xiwei's eyes lit up. "I'll copy a section."
"No."
Just one paragraph.
Chu Ran stuffed the manuscript into her bag, with Tian Xiwei's hand still resting on it. The two tugged at it for three seconds before Chu Ran won and zipped up the bag.
"You said last time that the filming style felt different, what was different?" Tian Xiwei rested her arms on her knees and asked seriously.
Chu Ran stared at the mirror opposite the rehearsal hall. In the mirror, there were seven or eight people rehearsing their lines. When they reached an emotional moment, their voices rose and fell.
"That's right," she paused for a moment, "Before, we'd wait for the director to yell 'cut,' but now sometimes we wait for the scene to stop."
Tian Xiwei didn't speak, but pondered the sentence over and over.
Someone in the hallway called out that class was starting. The two stood up. Chu Ran picked up her backpack, and Tian Xiwei leaned closer and whispered, "Who posted that 'guaranteed pass' message on your WeChat Moments last time?"
Chu Ran walked in, waved her hand, and said, "Go to class first, we'll chat later."
"Tch." Tian Xiwei rolled her eyes subconsciously.
...
Xu Wen slammed the payment request form on Zeng Hao's desk. "Boss, Sister Liu asked me to transfer the money to you. There's a problem with the settlement of Yang Shanshan's team's appearance fees this month."
Zeng Hao picked it up and turned to the last page.
There's an extra column: Brand Business Event Attendance Fee, 120,000, corresponding to the event date of the 19th of last month.
On the 19th of last month, Yang Shanshan was in Hengdian for a full-day script reading.
Zeng Hao put the payment request form back on the table. "Is there a contract for this event?"
Xu Wen: "No, my agent said it was a verbal agreement, and we'll complete the paperwork later."
Zeng Hao tapped his finger on the table. "Article 6, Paragraph 1 of the contract."
Xu Wen immediately stated, "All business activities must submit a complete contract seven working days in advance; verbal agreements do not incur any payment obligations."
"Send an agent."
"Sent, three minutes ago."
Xu Wen put the folder away, paused at the door, and said, "Boss, this path won't work. They'll find another one."
"Um."
Xu Wen pulled back from the doorway. "Do you know what they'll do next?"
Zeng Hao pulled over another document. "Go check Yang Shanshan's private schedule for the past three months, compare it with the contract schedule, and compile all the discrepancies."
As Xu Wen left, before his footsteps faded in the corridor, he muttered to himself, "Asking was pointless."
This matter itself is not a big deal; 120,000 is not even a fraction of what Sunshine Entertainment is making now.
The trouble is the act of probing itself.
The agent has changed. It was just changed three months ago. The new agent is named Chen Ming. He worked at Dingsheng for two years before. His resume is clean, but his background is not.
Yang Shanshan has been signed with Sunshine Entertainment for nearly two years. She was well-behaved in the first year, but started to make moves last year. From small moves to big moves, her path is so clear that it's as if someone was teaching her.
Verbal agreements to make up for lost orders are an old trick used by the Dingsheng Group, specifically to test the tightness of a company's financial management.
If the test shows relaxation, the subsequent actions will be more significant.
If the test shows it's tight, try a different approach.
Zeng Hao opened the document in front of him, which was the final confirmed schedule for the broadcast of "What Kind of System" at the end of the year. It was scheduled to premiere on December 22nd in prime time on a satellite TV channel. The next time slot was occupied by a period drama with a male lead, and the competing lineup was not weak.
He circled the premiere date.
So what if the competition isn't weak? He knows better than anyone that Douban rating is 8.6. There's only one question—whether the amount of hype generated in the two weeks leading up to the broadcast is enough.
"Xu Wen".
Xu Wen peeked out from outside and said, "Hey."
"What kind of pre-show promotional material is this? We've added Chu Ran's personal interview to the series, which will consist of four episodes, with the first episode airing ten days before the premiere."
"Have you spoken to the PR team yet?"
"Go and tell them."
Xu Wen pulled his head back in, then poked it back in two seconds later. "Boss, the PR manager asked whether the interview focus should be on student actors making breakthroughs or on established new talents?"
Zeng Hao said, "Don't report it. Report that Chu Ran has a storyline in the drama where she cries from beginning to end, and have people find out what that storyline is."
Xu Wen paused for a second, wrote a note on the folder cover, and read it aloud to confirm, "Creating suspense and triggering viewers to search spontaneously... Boss, this is a despicable tactic."
"Um."
Xu Wen disappeared.
Zeng Hao had been thinking about this direction for more than just one day.
He knew that "What Kind of System" would reach a Douban rating of 8.6 after it aired. But he also knew that in the original timeline, the topic of Chu Ran's storyline started to gain traction very slowly, relying on word-of-mouth in the first week and only going viral in the second week.
By creating suspense in advance and turning the initial stream of organic traffic into targeted search traffic, the premiere's viewership will be even better than the original timeline.
A better show means the TV station has more leverage in negotiations for the second season.
He wouldn't tell anyone this chain of logic, including Chu Ran.
The corridor of the Acting Department at Shanghai Theatre Academy.
Chu Ran leaned against the door of the water room, her phone screen facing up in her palm. The screen lit up briefly; it was a message from Xu Wen.
[Hello Ms. Chu Ran, the PR team is planning four solo interviews to promote the premiere of "What Kind of System is This?". The first episode is scheduled for December 12th. Would it be convenient for you to confirm your availability?]
She peeked into the washroom and saw Tian Xiwei filling a container with water, her back to her.
"Weiwei," she called out, "what do you think of my crying scene?"
Tian Xiwei closed the lid on her water glass, turned around, and asked, "Why are you asking this?"
"It's nothing, just asking."
"It's alright," Tian Xiwei said as she walked out. "It's just that my face swells up quickly after crying, and I don't have time to touch up my makeup."
Chu Ran glanced at her, then put her phone in her coat pocket. "I was asking about acting skills."
"Oh," Tian Xi thought for a moment, "that's no problem, but my face will still be swollen."
Chu Ran's face darkened for once. He pushed open the door to the water room, turned on the tap, bent down, scooped up a handful of water, and splashed it on his face. It was cold, but it sobered him up.
She replied to Xu Wen, "Sure, I don't have classes on the 12th, I can cooperate."
Send it out, then put your phone in your pocket.
What kind of behavior is this? She filmed for four months, with a total of eleven crying scenes. The longest one was NG six times before it was stopped on the seventh take. Peng Bing didn't say anything, but the cinematographer patted her on the shoulder.
She thought it was comforting.
I later learned that when the photographer patted my shoulder, he meant, "Keep this one, don't touch it."
She didn't know what that post would become, or whether anyone would even read it.
But there was one thing she knew—she truly cried in every single one of those eleven performances.
At 3 PM, at Sunshine Entertainment, Xu Wen placed the compiled documents on Zeng Hao's desk.
According to the contract schedule, there are four discrepancies in Yang Shanshan's private schedule over the past three months.
Zeng Hao flipped through the four entrances one by one.
Article 1: A certain brand made private contact, and the timing overlapped with a certain brand client that the company was negotiating with. The client is the same.
Article 9 of the contract: Artists shall not make independent contacts with the company’s existing or potential clients without the company’s written authorization.
Article 2: I privately attended an industry forum, which was hosted by an organization under the Jingcheng Culture Foundation.
Article 12 of the contract: Artists must notify the company in writing three working days in advance of any public or semi-public industry activities they participate in.
Articles 3 and 4 have different triggering clauses but the same nature.
The direction is clear.
It wasn't the agent testing the financial situation; Yang Shanshan was looking for a backup plan, and she had been doing so for some time.
Jingcheng's route wasn't completely blocked; they only blocked one entrance. They opened a new route from the side, this time directly to the artist's side.
Zeng Hao flipped the document back to the first page. There were four entries, each with two words written next to it: "For record".
Xu Wen stood to the side, glanced at the two words, and asked, "Not sending a lawyer's letter?"
"wait."
Xu Wen, "What are you waiting for?"
"Wait until they agree on a price."
Xu Wen repeated the sentence to himself, something forming in his mind, "...So you're waiting for the fish to swim in?"
"Send an email to Chen Shangwu. After Ning Anru Meng's submission for review is completed, go through the terms of the subsequent distribution and revenue sharing window again. Mark any ambiguous terms in advance."
Xu Wen took notes. "Okay, anything else?"
"On the day of the premiere of 'What Kind of System!', prepare a real-time data set of competitors, updated hourly."
"It's ready."
Xu Wen walked to the door, then turned back. "Boss, if Yang Shanshan really does leave in the end, who will fill the position of the company's pillar?"
Zeng Hao pushed the documents aside. "Chu Ran."
Xu Wen, "...She's only seventeen."
"What kind of behavior is this? It's not the same after the premiere."
Xu Wen stood at the door, pondered those words for about three seconds, then nodded, closed the door, and left.
After the door closed, the office became quiet.
The afternoon light outside the window was slanted, casting a bright line on the floor, slowly moving from left to right towards the base of the wall.
Zeng Hao leaned back in his chair and laid out the four documents on the table one by one.
What kind of scheduling is this? The progress of Ning Anru's submission for review, Yang Shanshan's schedule comparison, and a message forwarded by Xu Wengang from Xue Zhijian's side - the Spring Festival Gala program team has received Xue Zhijian's new song demo, internal review has been completed, no revisions were requested, and the position on the program list has been confirmed.
Of the four events, the closest one will be on December 22nd, and the furthest one will be next year's Spring Festival Gala.
Everything is proceeding according to plan.
Zeng Hao straightened up in his chair and picked up the top document.
Yang Shanshan's agent, Chen Ming, received a reminder letter from the company's legal department regarding Article 6, Paragraph 1 of the contract in the parking lot.
He held his phone screen up to Yang Shanshan, "Here I am."
Yang Shanshan glanced at the phone, then handed it back to him. "The sixth one is blocked. How many more are there?"
Chen Ming, "There are still two paths we haven't taken: one is the brand side, and the other is the platform side. But for the brand side, they signed a direct contract last time—"
"The platform side." Yang Shanshan opened the car door. "Go ask Jingcheng if they have a direct interface on the platform side."
...
Jingcheng's reply came two days faster than Zeng Hao had expected.
When Xu Wen forwarded the message, Zeng Hao was looking at the pre-release data for "What Kind of Circumstances". There were still nine days until the premiere, and the organic traffic of the topic had just exceeded 300,000, which was low and at the bottom of the normal range.
"Boss, Yang Shanshan's side has made a move," Xu Wen handed over his phone. "On the platform side, iQiyi, Jingcheng has a content cooperation opportunity there. They want to get Yang Shanshan a supporting role in a platform-produced drama, bypassing the company and negotiating directly."
Zeng Hao returned the phone. "Does Chen's business department know?"
"I don't know. Jingcheng works in a different department, not through General Manager Chen's line."
Zeng Hao pushed the incoherent data sheet aside and said, "Call Chen, the business manager, and ask him to check if anyone on the platform has recently used Yang Shanshan's name to discuss projects."
Xu Wen wrote two words in the memo column: "What happens after the attack?"
"Wait for him to come back."
Xu Wen put his pen away and walked out. He paused at the door and asked, "Boss, what should we do if General Manager Chen's side confirms it?"
Article 14, Paragraph 3 of the Contract.
Xu Wen mentally reviewed the terms and conditions, his eyes lighting up. "Artists are prohibited from participating in any form of negotiations for film and television projects that are not authorized by the company during the contract period, including verbal communication or through intermediaries. Violation of this clause will be considered a breach of contract, and the company has the right to invoke the penalty clause."
"Um."
"...Jingcheng bypassed the company by using the platform, which is tantamount to directly stepping on this path." Xu Wen tucked the folder under his arm. "Then that path is also closed to them."
Zeng Hao didn't respond to that sentence, but pulled the data table back up.
With 300,000 hashtag views and a premiere nine days later, the organic traffic on the premiere day should reach around 800,000, based on a normal decay curve, which is insufficient.
He wrote a number next to the data: 1.2 million.
This is the minimum number of topics he wants to generate on the day of the premiere.
The shortfall of 400,000 yuan needs to be squeezed out from the pre-event interviews.
"Xu Wen," he called towards the door, "could the recording date for the first episode of Chu Ran's interview be moved up to this Friday?"
Xu Wen peeked out from outside, "Let me ask, she has class."
"After class."
"it is good."
Chen's business reply arrived at 2 PM.
It was a phone call, not a message. The caller answered directly, "Mr. Zeng, someone used Yang Shanshan's name to negotiate a project with one of our content departments. I checked, and the intermediary is a cultural fund called Jingcheng. Do you know them?"
Zeng Hao: "I know."
"So...what's going on inside your company?"
"Yes. Mr. Chen, could you please do me a favor and compile a list of the negotiation timelines and contact records for that project? I also need your platform to provide a written explanation."
There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone. "No problem, but if this written explanation is to go through the formal process, I need a reason."
"Evidence collection for contract disputes."
"Okay, I'll have my legal department contact you."
After hanging up the phone, Zeng Hao put down his phone, picked up the pen on the table, crossed out the word "Record" next to the first entry in Yang Shanshan's itinerary comparison document, and wrote "Trigger".
There are four entries and exits, and now the first one has become "trigger".
The other three are still "on file".
He wasn't in a hurry to trigger all three; he left them for Yang Shanshan to complete the rest of the journey on her own.
This account is not complicated.
Yang Shanshan's contract has 14 months remaining. The penalty for breach of contract was agreed upon at the time of signing and is calculated according to the tiered system agreed upon by both parties. If the current point is triggered, the amount will be around 4.8 million.
Four million eight hundred thousand is not a small amount for Yang Shanshan, but it's just a drop in the bucket for Jingcheng. They can easily cover it for her.
In other words, the penalty for breach of contract itself cannot stop her from leaving; the only thing that can truly stop her is whether there are better options than staying after she leaves.
Zeng Hao pondered the question for three seconds and concluded that: there isn't one now, but if we wait another six months and wait for the complete set of data, then there might be one.
Therefore, the time window is within six months.
He put down his pen and picked up the next document.
Shanghai Theatre Academy, small classroom for the Acting Department.
Chu Ran leaned against the wall in the last row, with an open script in her hand. The cover read "Selected Plays for Graduation Presentation," and someone had drawn a question mark in pencil below it. The handwriting was Tian Xiwei's.
The teacher was explaining the physical action method, saying that every action an actor takes on stage must have a specific physical purpose. It's not "I want to express sadness," but "I want to fold this letter, put it in the drawer, and lock it."
Tian Xiwei nudged her with her notebook and handed her a piece of paper that read: "Interview to be recorded this Friday?"
Chu Ran folded the paper and wrote: Xu Wen said yes, but I haven't confirmed it yet.
Tian Xiwei took it and wrote below: I also didn't have class that day, I'll go with you.
Chu Ran glanced at it, tore up the paper, and put it in her pocket.
The teacher said earlier, "The actions need to be specific for the emotions to be believable. Remember, the audience doesn't watch what you want to express, but what you are doing."
Chu Ran pressed the script down on her knees and re-examined the question mark on the cover, making it more prominent.
She was choosing a piece for her graduation performance, and that's what Tian Xiwei was asking with that question mark.
She herself was unsure. She had three options. The first was a classic play recommended by her teacher, which was a safe bet. However, after filming "The Unorthodox Style," she felt that the safe options were too narrow.
The second one was one she found herself; it was a contemporary drama, which was difficult, with a lot of lines and three crying scenes.
The third one was given by Tian Xiwei. She said it was a script left behind by a senior student. It was the best-received script among the graduation performances of the Shanghai Theatre Academy over the years. It was ready-made and only needed to be rearranged.