Chapter 59: Depths of the Mind

"It seems that the day to return to the mainland will be postponed once again," Gu Cheng quietly told himself after seeing the investment proposal for "Meteor Garden." This was a television drama from the early 2000s, one that even those born after 2010 had heard of. In his previous life, Gu Cheng vaguely remembered that its rights had been sold to several countries, and the return on investment was surely impressive.

Although from the perspective of contemporary critics, idol dramas were seen as somewhat lowbrow—before 2000, people in Taiwan mostly produced romance dramas based on Qiong Yao's works, rarely experimenting with the new genre of idol dramas, since the leading directors in the industry still clung to their reputations and were unwilling to lower themselves to shoot those flashy, ostentatious stories of domineering young men.

But Gu Cheng only wished to be an investor; whether it was considered lowbrow or not was irrelevant to him. He could foresee that in the first half-year after the legendary game launched its paid operations, most of the gross profit would be funneled back into promotional expenses. For example, installing "Alipay" recharge systems in internet cafés across the country would require considerable subsidies.

Therefore, a work described in history books as "phenomenal" was certainly worth investing in if one could gather the funds. Earning eight or nine million in dividends would be a helpful supplement for Gu Cheng, who still faced the risk of running short of money within the next year or so.

"Do you know how far along this production team is? Who's involved at present? How much money are they short of? What's the current equity structure among the initiators?"

Gu Cheng put aside the proposal and fired off three questions in quick succession.

Lin Zhiling was slightly flustered, hurriedly flipping through her notes. "The production company is Fulong Films, with Chai Zhiping as producer and director, both from the same company. The script is adapted from the Japanese manga 'Boys Over Flowers.' But the production team is still uncertain about the prospects, so they're reluctant to pay cash for adaptation rights. They're only negotiating for the rights to be included as equity."

Other than that, there was no more information available from public channels. "If you need, I can ask a friend to arrange a meeting with their company."

"Alright, set that up," Gu Cheng replied, signaling Lin Zhiling to make the arrangements.

Lin Zhiling's intelligence work this time was rather lacking—she didn't even know the budget or the fundraising gap. But since this was her first time, Gu Cheng didn't fault her. With experience, she'd improve.

Anyone familiar with small productions knew that scripts and actors were always variables—the key was how much money could be raised. With funds to burn, large-scale scenes and prominent actors could be added. Without funding, they'd have to use newcomers and shoot mostly indoor scenes, with no expensive props.

"It seems 'Meteor Garden' uses amateur actors. The team probably isn't valued much—this must be Fulong's attempt at experimenting with the new genre," Gu Cheng thought.

...

Three days later, Lin Zhiling managed to arrange a meeting with the producers of "Meteor Garden" through her few industry contacts. She also obtained extra insider information by treating people to dinner and offering red envelopes.

Reportedly, "Meteor Garden" wasn't favored by Fulong's shareholders, but Chai Zhiping, the general manager and actual operator, was eager to give it a try.

It was the classic scenario of an entertainment company executive risking shareholders' money to gild her own résumé—regardless of profit or loss, the money belonged to the company; but if the show succeeded, the reputation would be hers. Moreover, the rookie actors she gathered and trained would gain some fame in the industry, possibly even becoming rising stars.

Where there is disagreement, the need for external investment grows stronger. Chai Zhiping needed the news that "outside investors are optimistic and willing to put real money in" to create a smokescreen for the shareholders.

The day of the meeting arrived quickly. Perhaps Lin Zhiling was thoughtful, knowing Gu Cheng might not want to drink with an older woman, so she arranged the venue at Wisteria Residence.

Wisteria Residence stood at the corner of Da'an Forest Park in the southern part of the city; though technically in the urban area, its surroundings were tranquil, long acclaimed as Taiwan's premier tea house.

Meeting in a teahouse meant there was no risk of getting drunk. Gu Cheng and Lin Zhiling, as hosts, arrived twenty minutes early. But when they entered the private room, Chai Zhiping was already waiting.

Chai Zhiping was an older woman, nearing forty, well-preserved and made-up. Yet from the first glance, Gu Cheng disliked her way of looking at men—especially handsome men.

Unfortunately, business is business. One had to admit, it was women like her who best understood what other women wanted to see, especially what could strike the G-spot of inexperienced girls.

A veteran in the field, Chai Zhiping greeted them with a smile, probing for information: "It's an honor to have Mr. Gu's invitation. They say only true dragons cross the river. Coming from the mainland and making moves in the circle lately, your capital is enviable."

"Chai Auntie, you're too kind. I was originally in the internet business, but you know how the bubble burst recently. So now I'm switching gears, looking for opportunities in the content industry—consider it paying some tuition."

Calling her "Chai Auntie" instantly pushed her attempt at intimacy away, leaving the moment awkward. Chai Zhiping was a bit annoyed, but then remembered that the handsome young man before her was not some naïve newcomer, but an investor, so she restrained her frivolity.

The three settled down for tea. Lin Zhiling, observing the situation, noted the lull and, after sipping her tea, shifted the conversation back to business, gently saying, "Sister Chai, our President Gu is just teasing you. His investment instincts have been spot on lately—he even secured the mainland agency rights for Jay Chou."

"Oh? You signed Jay Chou as well?" A flicker of anticipation passed through Chai Zhiping's eyes.

Seeing this, Gu Cheng realized trouble was brewing and quickly added, "Actually, it was a scattershot bet—I signed agency rights for three or four new singers, all for less than a few hundred thousand each, and it just happened that Jay Chou worked out. I even considered signing Jolin Tsai, who'd just cooled off, but her agency was unreasonable, asking for a million to terminate the contract, so I didn't bother."

As he spoke, he casually put his arm around Lin Zhiling's waist, squeezing gently, playing the role of a carefree playboy.

Lin Zhiling stiffened but forced herself not to react; she realized she'd misspoken earlier.

Chai Zhiping glanced at them, thinking, "So he's just a venture capitalist casting a wide net, not likely to spend extravagantly on any one project. He must have several options lined up, so I'd better not ask for too much and scare him off."

By rights, with her experience and shrewdness, Chai Zhiping shouldn't have been so easily misled. But Gu Cheng's youthful appearance was deceptive—who would suspect a boy not yet seventeen to possess such cunning?

Had Gu Cheng slipped, and Lin Zhiling stepped in to cover for him, Chai Zhiping would certainly have become suspicious, especially since Lin Zhiling looked like a consummate socialite. But with their roles reversed, the effect was entirely different.

The parties then candidly discussed their intentions and current gaps in funding.

Gu Cheng learned that "Meteor Garden" was aiming for a production cost of four million (all in RMB), but the total equity would exceed five million, with Chai Zhiping as producer and director, both contributing their labor without pay, to be compensated later through equity. The adaptation rights to the original "Boys Over Flowers" manga were valued at over seven hundred thousand and included as equity.

This "valuation" was clearly inflated—Chai Zhiping's personal labor and the director she brought in could not possibly be worth a million RMB, since neither were yet big names.

Chai Zhiping's bottom line was to raise two million externally, offering thirty percent equity.

Gu Cheng didn't mind the partners padding the valuation by a few hundred thousand—everyone has their own interests, and cutting off their chance to profit would make them less eager to work. But only thirty percent seemed a bit stingy. He didn't want to control the project, just so long as it was less than half, he was open to negotiation.

He thought for a moment and said, "How about this—since the original Japanese author is being given equity valued at seventy thousand, give me their contact. I'll buy the adaptation rights outright for cash, and you can increase the budget. Once I see the script, I want forty-five percent equity."

The adaptation rights, valued at seventy thousand, could surely be bought outright for less, perhaps even at a discount.

Chai Zhiping considered: buying the rights outright would at least prove to the shareholders that someone genuinely believed in the project. As for adding to the budget, that was also beneficial. Originally, due to insufficient funds, she planned to shoot twenty episodes as a test run, with a second season if it succeeded. If someone was willing to invest more, she could bring forward some plots for the second season and improve the props and sets.

She decided, "Alright, let's settle it like this. May I ask, Mr. Gu, if we proceed, when could your investment be in place?"

Gu Cheng replied, "Your show will take a long time to shoot, right? This year, I can manage up to a million, but starting next year, my cash flow will loosen up—I can add a hundred thousand each month."

Chai Zhiping calculated, "In that case, we could consider starting production in December, since other preparations are nearly complete."

They signed a preliminary framework agreement, after which Chai Zhiping took her leave.

Lin Zhiling began to pack up, but Gu Cheng gently pushed her back onto the sofa. "Do you realize what you said wrong just now?"

Lin Zhiling blushed. "I think I have some idea."

Gu Cheng spoke earnestly, "You shouldn't have emphasized that I only bought Jay Chou's agency rights. If the other party knows I only focused on one deal, signed it, and it turned out successful, they'll think I'm extremely confident in my judgment and will stop at nothing to get what I want. Never let your opponent believe you'll do anything 'at any cost.'"

Lin Zhiling meekly admitted, "I'll be sure to correct it next time."

"That's settled, then. Oh, and by the way, I wasn't intentionally holding you just now."

"I know—you wanted Chai Zhiping to see your taste, so she wouldn't get any ideas." This time, Lin Zhiling was quick to grasp his intention, her tone gentle and sweet, her eyes sparkling as if to say: I know you're a gentleman, I don't blame you.

With that, there was no need for further explanation.