Chapter 49: Entrepreneurship Is the Ultimate Infinite Flow (Part 1)

"I was born into a family of educated youth exiled to the Great Northwest. It wasn't until I was almost six or seven that my parents finally saved enough to return to the inland. My family was very poor back then, and we didn't qualify for the household registration transfer policy, so we couldn't even apply for public housing. I started acting when I was nine to help support my mom and dad.

I've been acting for ten years now. I can't really say whether I like it or not, I'm just used to it. If I stop working for too long, I actually start to panic. Besides, I only went to a vocational arts school; if I don't act, I don't know how to do anything else."

As Jiang Xin spoke, she slumped backward onto the bed. Her long, straight black hair scattered evenly across the sheets, though her lower legs maintained a bird-style seiza posture.

"Let's not dwell on this anymore, let's talk about some real substance. In this industry, once you've been around for a long time, as long as you don't intend to claw your way up, it's really not as dark as you think—just like grassroots civil servants; as long as they don't want to flatter superiors and become high-ranking officials, there isn't that much corruption either. Actors who have been acting for a long time, as long as they aren't trying to rush to the very top to fight for fame and fortune, or dramatically break through their current status overnight, why would they freely give themselves away to be slept with? Who doesn't want to live an honest, peaceful life?"

Gu Cheng didn't completely buy her argument: "Weren't you a bit player for so many years, yet you still managed to get the role of Mu Wanqing from Producer Zhang? Didn't you start getting famous?"

It was partly because CCTV's Producer Zhang had such a stinky reputation in later generations—rumored inside and outside the industry as a notorious womanizer—that Gu Cheng was naturally a bit curious.

Jiang Xin suddenly straightened her face, looking as if she had been insulted: "What a joke—let me ask you, four years ago in the Wong Yat-wah version of *Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils*, who played Mu Wanqing?"

"It was that one—" Gu Cheng blurted out an answer, only to realize he truly didn't recognize the actress who played Mu Wanqing in that older version. "Uh, I can't remember her name, but if you showed me a photo, I'd definitely recognize it."

"Even her name wasn't remembered by the audience; can you call that famous? For decades, have you ever seen any actress who wasn't famous to begin with, suddenly become a star just by playing a small supporting role like Mu Wanqing, who doesn't even show her face in eighty percent of the later plots?" Jiang Xin paused, turned her head to glance at Gu Cheng, and after confirming that he had nothing to say in return, she proudly continued:

"If roles like this require sleeping around, then that would be a miracle! Of course, to make this version a bit more popular than previous ones, they added some scenes. In the sequence where Mu Wanqing and Duan Yu are captured by Duan Yanqing and locked in a secret room, previous scripts never dared to shoot the scenes after they were fed aphrodisiacs, but this script did. I showed a little skin too, and if you look down on me for that, I have nothing to say."

"Why would I look down on you? If the script requires actors to be slightly bolder, that's for the sake of art. Thank you for letting me know about the daily routines in this industry; I'm indeed rather lacking in this area, especially from my perspective—I only know that I keep my own hands clean, but I have no idea how dirty my peers can be."

As Gu Cheng finished speaking, he heard a rustling sound from the direction of the bathroom. Che Lizi had finished her makeup and emerged. He then very gallantly invited the two young women to go get dinner together.

Jiang Xin told Gu Cheng to go out first, then slipped into the bathroom to quickly change her clothes. She was actually quite fast, tidying herself up in just five minutes.

On the way to the restaurant, Gu Cheng was afraid of awkwardness, so he made small talk: "You should watch yourself sometimes too. I know you also look down on those who sleep around to trade for roles, but there's no need to voice it out loud."

Yet Jiang Xin gave him no face at all: "I'm only telling you because I consider you a friend! You want me to learn how to put on airs like those flashy bitches? This lady just can't do it!"

Gu Cheng barely choked back his own saliva. Subconsciously, he tightened his grip on the keychain in his pants pocket, then immediately let go: If Jiang Xin were a time-traveler, how could she have mixed in such a miserable state? He was just being too suspicious...

This girl had been bombing at the box office for too long; her psychology was probably a bit warped.

...

Gu Cheng ordered a simple bowl of shredded pork and vegetable noodles with shrimp, along with a few small cold dishes, and chatted with Che Lizi while they ate.

Following Gu Cheng's instructions last night, Che Lizi had already notified the headquarters, letting the negotiation team start operating to find channels and gather information on those target projects as much as possible.

Right now, during lunchtime, the latest follow-up quotation info had already been received from the front line.

"The shell company we entrusted has made inquiries. Currently, the permanent agency rights for the Chinese region offered by *MU Online* are priced at 2 million US dollars. Furthermore, this does not include technical support or subsequent version upgrades. If upgrades are desired, an additional 15% of operating revenue must be shared as a technical service fee. They refuse cooperation models that do not open source code and engine application technology routes. Moreover, besides our company, a gaming community website company from Shanghai has already taken out a loan and is currently in negotiations.

The creators of *Ragnarok Online* have a lower asking price—500,000 US dollars—but they only sell a two-year agency right. Within the two years, 10% of the operating revenue will be collected as a technical service fee for version upgrades. If we choose not to upgrade versions, this fee can be waived. However, a new round of negotiations and signing will take place after the two-year term expires."

Hearing this, Gu Cheng knitted his brows even tighter.

Ever since he lucked out and picked up *Legend of Mir 2*, over the past year and a half, those gaming companies in East Yi had all gotten much wiser.

They were all counting on the Chinese agency to buy the agency rights, operate the game successfully, and then come back to fleece another heavy profit.

The developers of *Ragnarok Online* were clearly typical practitioners of this approach—they stubbornly refused to sell permanent agency rights, only selling them one-off for two years. Obviously, they were betting that once the game became popular after two years, they could use the threat of cutting off supplies to blackmail the agency and ruthlessly gouge them.

Gu Cheng was a person who greatly respected copyright, but he also knew that making something popular didn't just depend on the product being good.

Take the internet literature field, for example: a masterpiece by a platinum grand god might have 100,000 regular subscriptions, but in reality, works with this objective strength could be twenty times that number. It's just that one of them was operated well and received so many promotional resources that it grew to this tier.

Or take the countless Hollywood films; the ones whose objective quality qualifies them for nominations every year might be close to a hundred. Yet, with brokers, lobbying, and promotional advantages, unwritten rules squeeze them into the top five or ten to secure nominations.

If the quality of the item itself isn't solid, no amount of powerful publicity is of any use. To apply unwritten rules to the Oscars, one must at least make a good movie first.

However, works with more than enough quality that lacked sufficient promotion and failed to take off were roughly twenty times the number of those that did. Every media field roughly maintained this proportion.

The East Yi people wanted to butcher him, the "publisher," and he simply wouldn't accept it.

If the other party dug their heels in on these negotiation terms, he had no intention of spending many promotional resources to thoroughly hype *MU Online* or *Ragnarok Online*. At worst, they would just drain the pond to catch all the fish and walk away after making a quick buck.

In any case, two years was enough for gaming technology to undergo earth-shattering changes, and these two items were originally just stepping stones before entering large-scale 3D productions.

Gu Cheng deliberated for a moment and gave his handling opinion: "How about this: a two-year agency period is acceptable, and 10% of the revenue can also be given, but our people must participate in the development work for upgrading the various versions of *Ragnarok Online*—if they agree to this, we can just put on a show and haggle a bit over the agency fee."

Che Lizi thought about it and said with a fair amount of confidence: "This condition should be negotiable. Anyway, even if we master the development technology after two years, they can still use the contract term to blackmail us; they aren't afraid. Then—what about *MU Online*? There's no way they will accept a cooperative model that opens up the technology."

Gu Cheng didn't answer immediately. Instead, clutching a shred of wishful thinking, he confirmed, "What is the name of that peer company negotiating with Webzen?"

Che Lizi didn't even have to think: "The9, and the boss is Zhu Jun."

Gu Cheng closed his eyes bitterly.

The collusion between the Ideal Department and the Legend Operations Department had ruined his major plans!

"Let's change strategy. We'll step forward directly in the name of 'Legend Entertainment' to contact Webzen, and stop using front companies. Then, in a few days, I'll talk to Zhu Jun personally."

Che Lizi was stunned, completely baffled: "Talk to Zhu Jun? If you really think highly of this project, Zhu Jun's little bit of strength is nothing at all. At worst, if they offer a one-time agency fee of 2 million, we can offer 3 million. When it comes to splashing cash, how could Zhu Jun possibly outspend us?"

Gu Cheng calmly analyzed: "That's not how you look at it. Since the game *MU Online* might not have a very long shelf life, we always have to prepare for the fury that players might unleash when they jump into the trap and the agency rights eventually terminate. If someone else is willing to bear this blame, we'll just toss them a few bones and let them take the fall."

Che Lizi didn't quite grasp Gu Cheng's meaning, but after watching his resolute gaze for a moment, a sense of trust welled up within her for no apparent reason.

"I'll go back and sort out the situation, then report it to President Pan," Che Lizi said, before fiercely shoveling a few bites of noodles into her mouth, looking as if she were in a great rush.

Jiang Xin sat on the side, completely unable to understand what they were discussing. Seeing how solemn Che Lizi was just then, she finally thought to ask: "Um... do I need to excuse myself while you two are busy?"

She suddenly found that Gu Cheng looked even more handsome when he was working than when he was acting.

"It's fine, we're all done talking." Gu Cheng waved his hand magnanimously.

Having positioned *MU Online* and *Ragnarok Online* as "make a quick buck and run," Gu Cheng figured he had to channel all the company's future independent R&D strength into *Angel Online*. This was the essential path for the company to gradually acquire independent R&D capabilities.

Based on the information Che Lizi had inquired about so far, the R&D status of *Angel Online* was even worse and its completion level lower, but the agency rights could also be bought out for 500,000 US dollars. If he went up to around 2 million US dollars, he could even completely buy out the overall copyright and all source codes.

This cost wasn't expensive for Gu Cheng.

There was another thing that had to be done immediately: have his cousin prepare to register a new game company under Cumpas Holdings right away, to stand alongside the current "Legend Entertainment." By then, "Legend Entertainment" would focus primarily on hardcore hack-and-slash online games, while the new company would focus on cute-style games.

A company's brand image could never please enthusiasts across all dimensions. Hardcore powerhouse gamers definitely wouldn't like the brands recognized by young girls and nerdy otakus. Yet many gaming companies in the early years failed to notice the issue of differentiated positioning, turning their businesses into an incoherent mess.

There was no need to discuss this with Che Lizi. Gu Cheng stood up directly and called his cousin: "Sis, go ahead and apply to register a new online gaming company. I'll take some time to head back during this stretch and get the paperwork sorted out."