Chapter 152: The Money Tree
Xie Ran’s eyes turned slightly red. Ever since he had his accident years ago, his close friend had stabbed him in the back at a critical moment. Others, while not directly taking advantage of his downfall, had distanced themselves from him.
Xu Youyou was the first person willing to stand by his side against Xingzuan.
Although she had promised to help him seek revenge when he agreed to work for her, he had never placed too much hope in it. Instead, he had secretly planned to use his work for Xu Youyou to build his own strength.
Now, with two major gaming platforms bidding for the publishing rights, Xu Youyou could have easily earned hundreds of millions more. But she chose to turn down that money without hesitation. In this moment, Xie Ran finally believed—she truly intended to help him get revenge.
“Xingzuan has always been vengeful,” Xie Ran said. “Who was the person that just called you?”
“Someone named Li….” Xu Youyou thought for a moment before saying, “Li Huairen, I think.”
Xie Ran’s expression shifted.
“You know him?” Xu Youyou asked curiously.
Xie Ran’s lips curled into a cold smirk. “Know him? How could I not?”
“A personal enemy?” Xu Youyou guessed.
“A deep grudge,” Xie Ran confirmed.
Xu Youyou tilted her head. “Then you must know him well. Can we set a trap for him?”
Xie Ran shook his head. “It’s better to stay still than act recklessly. Proactively creating an opportunity might expose too many weaknesses.”
Xu Youyou didn’t insist. “Alright, if you say so, I won’t interfere. You already know my financial backing—just tell me when you need money.”
Sitting beside them, Lu Jingyao watched this exchange. He knew Xu Youyou was winning Xie Ran over, but why did it feel so… off? He suppressed his jealousy and waited until they finished their heartfelt conversation before sending his negotiation team to discuss pricing with Xie Ran.
Lu Jingyao himself stayed in the living room, drinking tea with Xu Youyou. Casually, he asked, “You seem to rely on Xie Ran a lot?”
Xu Youyou didn’t think much of it and answered naturally, “I don’t have many people working under me. One person has to do the job of several.”
She glanced enviously at the negotiation team in the next room.
Lu Jingyao suggested, “Talented people tend to gather together. You can have Xie Ran build a team for you—his eye for talent is sharp.”
Xu Youyou nodded and changed the topic.
“You’re planning to remake Dream of the Red Chamber?” Lu Jingyao’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Then, as if something occurred to him, he nodded. “That makes sense. Now that you have the full manuscript, you can film a version that matches your vision. If it succeeds, your company’s reputation will skyrocket.”
Of course, if it failed, she’d probably get criticized online.
Xu Youyou figured that even if her version had some flaws, it would still be better than the disastrous adaptations from recent years.
She pulled out several of Zhang Laoye’s research manuscripts. “I plan to base the script on these and find a screenwriter who deeply understands Dream of the Red Chamber.”
“My mother has a friend who studies Dream of the Red Chamber—a professor named Wang from Hu City University,” Lu Jingyao suggested.
Xu Youyou frowned slightly. Hu City University was her alma mater, and the name “Professor Wang” didn’t bring back good memories.
“Wang Qianshu?”
“You know him?” Lu Jingyao asked.
“I don’t want to work with him,” Xu Youyou said bluntly.
Lu Jingyao saw her expression turn cold and sensed she didn’t want to discuss it further. His heart sank slightly.
Xu Youyou moved on. “I’m planning an open audition.”
Lu Jingyao commented, “Several versions of Dream of the Red Chamber have already been made, and they’ve held open auditions before. But the chosen actors always seem… lacking.”
Xu Youyou replied, “There’s no rush. We’ll take our time finding the right people. And actually, I need your help with something.”
Lu Jingyao was intrigued. “What can I help with?”
“It was Xie Ran’s idea, actually,” Xu Youyou explained. “Co-branding is really popular now, right? Your company’s signature snacks could do a Dream of the Red Chamber collaboration, and we could use the packaging to promote the auditions. You could do the same in your hottest mobile game.”
Lu Jingyao raised an eyebrow. “That’s a huge marketing effort. You really want to do this properly. But this will push the production costs way up.”
With such an extensive promotion campaign, it was clear that Xu Youyou was determined to find the best actors.
Xu Youyou shrugged. “This is Dream of the Red Chamber. Even if I lose money, I still want to do it.”
Lu Jingyao understood. Dream of the Red Chamber was a shared cultural memory for all Chinese people. He nodded. “I want to contribute to this too. While I can’t adjust snack prices easily, I could do a 50% discount on game skins during the promotion.”
Xu Youyou was stunned. “That’s too big of a discount! You might lose money!”
Lu Jingyao chuckled. “Not necessarily. I’ll just earn a little less. Plus, it’s a nice way to reward our loyal players. And if your drama becomes a hit, I’ll end up benefiting from it anyway.”
“Businesspeople don’t think that way. A 50% discount might upset players who bought skins earlier—you could take a hit,” Xu Youyou murmured.
Lu Jingyao smiled. “If you’re worried I’ll lose money, then count it as my investment in the drama. Give me a 1% profit share.”
“1% is too little. At least 10%,” Xu Youyou countered.
Lu Jingyao laughed. “With 10%, you won’t make much yourself. Just 1% is enough for me.”
Xu Youyou found this kind of bargaining strangely familiar. In the past, whenever she and Lu Jingyao negotiated, they always tried to be fair, worried about the other taking a loss.
Meanwhile, in the other room, Xie Ran’s negotiations wrapped up quickly. The initial pricing for the domestic publishing rights had been decided. Since Peter, as the CEO of the overseas company, had given the rights to major shareholder Xu Youyou, the money from the deal would go directly into her account.
Xie Ran structured the deal around revenue sharing—an initial publishing fee of 10 million per year, plus a 10% revenue share, with annual price adjustments.
Ten million per year didn’t seem like much, but given the game was still in its early stages, it was already a high price.
More importantly, the 10% revenue share was based on total revenue, not profit.
Lu’s company would have to invest heavily in promotion, making the upfront costs high. But Xu Youyou wouldn’t lose out on this deal.
The house was bustling with activity. Both Lu Jingyao and Xie Ran stayed behind.
Lu Jingyao wanted to stay for dinner, while Xie Ran had more updates to report.
“As of now, our short drama platform has generated over 100 million in revenue shares,” Xie Ran reported.
Xu Youyou paused. A hundred million—this was the amount distributed to short drama production teams, meaning the platform itself had earned even more.
Xie Ran knew what she was thinking and added, “The platform’s revenue has reached 1 billion, with an estimated profit of 800 million.”
Xu Youyou immediately turned and shouted, “Aunt Zhang! Open a bottle of champagne!”
