Traffic Star Development Program

Chapter 69 The Strongest Lineup!

"No problem." Zeng Hao closed the draft. "But if this clause isn't changed, there's no need to discuss the subsequent clauses."

These words were spoken lightly, without any threatening tone, but they were still hard to accept.

Chen, the business manager, remained silent for a moment before finally nodding: "I understand. I'll take this back and handle it."

The atmosphere immediately relaxed.

Xu Wen secretly turned to the side and whispered in Zeng Hao's ear, "Are we just going to stay like this?"

Zeng Hao didn't turn his head, but glanced at him lightly to the right.

Xu Wen immediately sat up straight.

The negotiations for the revenue-sharing structure have officially begun, and the pace has quickened considerably.

iQiyi's bottom line is clear: the platform pays the full production cost, the platform takes 60% of the revenue from advertising, the production company takes 40%, and revenue sharing based on viewership is calculated separately.

Zeng Hao mentally reviewed the numbers the other party had given him.

A 40/60 split isn't the lowest in the industry, but it's hardly fair either.

Paying the full production cost seems like a concession, but in reality, it's exchanging upfront investment for greater control later on.

The funds all come from the platform, so even if the production company has objections, it can't easily voice them.

"Regarding the production costs," he began, "the platform can cover all of them, but the maximum production cost must be written into the contract. Any amount exceeding that should be split 50/50 between both parties, not entirely dumped on the production company."

Chen, the business manager, frowned: "Exceeding the limit poses an execution risk for the production team—"

"Then let's define the risks clearly." Zeng Hao turned to the last few pages of the draft, "What are the production issues, and what are the rework caused by the platform's review requirements? Let's make a clear distinction and let each party bear the responsibility."

The legal department started taking notes again.

When discussing artist contract ownership, Chen, the business manager, leaned forward, his tone becoming more serious than before: "Our platform has a practice where, during the talent show, contestants sign with production companies, but the platform has priority in signing the top three, with contracts lasting three years—"

"Priority contact right," Zeng Hao interrupted, his tone flat. "It's not a priority signing right. You can send out offers first, but the final contract terms are decided by the artist and the production company."

This difference, though only one word, represents the difference in who has the initiative.

Chen Businessman stared at him for two seconds.

"In addition," Zeng Hao continued, "a clause should be added to the contract: if a contracted artist withdraws due to force majeure or policy reasons, the production company has the right to replace him with the artist with the platform's informed consent, and the schedule and production plan will proceed as usual. The platform may not unilaterally terminate the contract on this ground."

This was something he added last night while he was thinking about it. The wording was very ordinary and wouldn't be surprising in any project.

But Chen Shangwu didn't think too much about it and just nodded: "This makes sense, we can include it."

The legal department should take notes.

Xu Wen sat next to him, not understanding what was special about this clause, but he knew that Zeng Hao never added things arbitrarily, so he stared at the legal document for a few more seconds.

The negotiations went on until after 2 p.m., and most of the core terms had been agreed upon.

Chen, the business manager, closed the folder, rubbed his temples, and smiled with a professional weariness. "President Zeng is more difficult to negotiate contracts with than most production companies I've met."

"The production company is difficult to negotiate with because the contract isn't clearly written." Zeng Hao straightened the draft. "If it's written clearly, there will be fewer problems later."

Chen Shangwu smiled meaningfully, then stood up to say goodbye without continuing the conversation.

After seeing them off, Xu Wen closed the conference room door, turned back, and looked on with a face full of questions:

"Is that 'force majeure leading to artist withdrawal' clause specifically for the Korean boy group from Dingsheng Entertainment? If they really sign it, and their shows clash, what if…?"

"no."

"Who is that aimed at?"

Zeng Hao put the draft into a document bag and stood up.

"spare."

Xu Wen stared at his back, repeating the word twice in his mouth, completely unable to figure out where the "backup" was. Knowing that asking would be useless, he went to pour himself a glass of water, muttering as he drank, "Backup. Okay, backup, I understand, I won't ask anymore."

The message came over around 9 p.m.

It wasn't Chen Business, but Xu Wen who sent it in as a screenshot from an industry group. It was a single image with a few dozen words: Dingsheng Media has officially completed a framework agreement with a Korean boy band agency, planning to bring in a five-member boy band to participate in a domestic customized talent show in 2016. The schedule is expected to be in the second half of the year, and iQiyi has already made contact.

Xu Wen added a line of text below the screenshot: "President Zeng, Dingsheng is locked up. It ran into us. What should we do?"

Zeng Hao placed his phone screen-down on the table.

What to do?

He picked up the draft contract with iQiyi from today and flipped to the clause that had been added that afternoon—

If a contracted artist withdraws due to force majeure or policy reasons, the production company has the right to replace them with the artist after obtaining the platform's informed consent. The schedule and production plan will proceed as usual, and the platform may not unilaterally terminate the contract on this ground.

iQiyi's legal department has noted down this clause today, and there are no objections.

Dingsheng is probably still calculating how much buzz the Korean boy band can generate. Once they've done the calculations, they'll be very satisfied and think they made a brilliant move.

Zeng Hao closed the draft again.

Let's leave the THAAD issue for later; there's no need to rush.

...

During the second round of negotiations, Chen, the business leader, presented the revised draft, his tone noticeably more relaxed than before.

Regarding the settlement of production costs,

"We discussed internally that a 50/50 split of the overspending is acceptable, but the settlement cycle will still follow the platform's usual practice—the final payment will be made after the broadcast based on the viewership data."

Zeng Hao flipped to the corresponding clause without looking up.

"Depending on the viewership data." He read those six words aloud. "How do you define 'data'?"

Chen Shangwu paused for a moment.

"Industry practice—"

"Industry practice isn't the language of contracts." Zeng Hao flipped the draft back to the cover, pressing his fingertips down. "It's also common practice to delay the final payment by six months after the broadcast. Delaying it by a year isn't considered unusual either. What's written into the contract must include figures."

The legal counsel's pen moved again.

Chen, the business manager, exchanged a glance with his assistant but did not respond immediately.

Xu Wen sat next to Zeng Hao, with an untouched cup of tea beside him. His eyes darted back and forth between the draft and Chen Shangwu, his lips pursed, and he remained obediently silent.

Having followed Zeng Hao for so long, he had figured out a pattern: at times like these, the quieter the better.

"The payment will arrive within 30 days of the premiere," Zeng Hao continued, his tone still flat. "Write down the specific number of days, not 'depending on the situation.' A penalty of 0.3% of the total final payment will be charged per day for overdue payments."

Chen, the business manager, paused for a few seconds, then changed his approach: "Thirty days is a bit short; it's an internal platform process—"

"Forty-five days." Zeng Hao didn't wait for him to finish, taking a step back. "That's the bottom line."

This concession was made cleanly, without any unnecessary words or preamble.

Chen, the business manager, frowned, circled a number on the draft, whispered a few words to the legal department, and finally nodded: "Forty-five days, that's fine."

The remaining clauses have progressed much more smoothly.

The two sides went back and forth over the definition of "effective play" as the basis for calculating revenue sharing based on play counts.

The platform wanted to include videos with high bounce rates, but Zeng Hao requested that invalid plays shorter than 30 seconds be removed.

The final decision was that "watching continuously for more than two minutes counts as one valid play," which the legal department noted down without objection.

Finally, I turned to the clause regarding artist replacement.

This clause was added by Zeng Hao last time, and the wording was quite ordinary. Chen, the business director, didn't think much of it last time, but after reviewing it again this time, he frowned: "Isn't the trigger condition for this clause—'force majeure or policy reasons'—too broad?"

"The broad scope is to protect both parties." Zeng Hao turned to the definition page of the draft. "Force majeure is governed by the general rules of contract, while policy reasons specifically refer to written restrictive documents issued by the competent authorities. Both conditions must be met simultaneously to trigger the substitution."

Chen, the business manager, glanced at the line of text, stopped hesitating, and nodded.

"Okay, this one is fine."

The legal representative put a checkmark on the notebook.

The final draft of the contract was completed at 3 p.m., in two copies, which were signed on the spot, with each party keeping one copy.

After signing and stamping the contract, Mr. Chen pushed it back, stood up, and extended his hand: "President Zeng, it's been a pleasure doing business with you."

"It's a pleasure working with you."

Shake hands, see the guest off, and close the door.

Xu Wen tucked the contract into a folder. When he returned, his face was contorted with barely suppressed rage. He sat down next to Zeng Hao and whispered, "Signed it!"

"Um."

"The artist replacement clause is also included, it's in black and white." Xu Wen paused on the table, as if celebrating the document, "President Zeng, you mentioned 'backup' before, is that what you're using here?"

Zeng Hao put his copy of the contract into a file folder and didn't answer.

Xu Wen waited three seconds and came to his own conclusion: "I understand, but I still can't ask."

He stood up to pour water. Halfway through, his phone vibrated. He glanced down at it, his expression froze, and he remained silent.

Zeng Hao: "What is it?"

It's not a question.

Xu Wen flipped his phone over, screen up, and pushed it up. It was a push notification from an industry media outlet, with the headline in large letters—

Dingsheng Media joins hands with top Korean boy group to enter the market and announces the strongest lineup of customized talent show in 2016.

Below are photos from the press conference. Five people are standing on the stage, with plenty of lighting and camera attention. The host's loud voice can be heard even in the pictures.

The caption was simple: Cast announced, release date confirmed, co-produced by iQiyi, second half of 2016.

Zeng Hao flipped through his phone and put it back.

Xu Wen stared at him for a few seconds, but didn't get any reaction, so he had to speak up himself: "This... the lineup is indeed quite impressive, it's sure to generate a lot of buzz, and the media will probably keep hyping it up for days."

He paused, then lowered his voice, "Should we do something about this?"

"What are you doing?"

"It's just... a little promotion? To let everyone know that we're also working on this project—"

"Wait."

Xu Wen swallowed back the words he was about to say, nodded, and sat back down in his chair. His phone screen was still lit up; the trending topic of the Dingsheng press conference had climbed to third place, and the comments section was full of "This lineup is invincible" and "The domestic talent show is about to change."

There wasn't a single word from Sunshine Entertainment.

Around 5 PM, another message popped up in the industry group. It was from a colleague who works in artist management. He was quite blunt: "I heard that a small company also got this slot on iQiyi. This is going to be interesting. It takes courage to try and stop a chariot."

Below were seven or eight smiley faces.

Xu Wen gripped his phone, his face turning grim for a moment. He secretly took a screenshot of the message and saved it without showing it to Zeng Hao.

Zeng Hao was looking at the contract backup next to him without looking up.

But Xu Wen knew he had seen it; President Zeng could see everything.

"President Zeng," Xu Wen hesitated for a moment before finally speaking, "they said we—"

"I know."

"That……"

"What kind of behavior is this? Has the server opening time been set over there?"

Xu Wen was stunned for a moment, then realized what was happening and immediately checked his phone for Peng Bing's message: "It's settled, next Monday. Director Peng said that Chu Ran is already memorizing her lines. She even messaged me last week asking about the blocking for the scene in the library, saying that we need to prepare in advance."

He didn't say much about Chu Ran's audition and memorizing lines.

She had so many failed auditions, but the boss insisted on casting her as the female lead.

What can be done...?

Zeng Hao closed the copy of the contract.

"I'll go on the day filming starts."

"Okay." Xu Wen noted it down, then looked out the window. The third most searched topic, "Ding Sheng Press Conference," was still trending, with comments still rolling. "So... if it keeps trending there, should we ignore it?"

Zeng Hao pushed the file bag aside.

"Manage it." He stood up, his coat draped over the back of the chair, not taking it with him. "We'll talk about it after they've warmed up enough."

Xu Wen watched him walk towards the door, then looked down at his phone. Under the Dingsheng entry, someone asked: Who is iQiyi's other partner for this time slot?

No one answered.

Zeng Hao's hand was on the doorknob. He wasn't in a hurry to leave and casually asked, "How's Xu Kunkun's training lately?"

Xu Wen checked his messages: "The teacher said my sense of rhythm is stable now. I recorded a cover song last week, and everyone in the group said it was pretty good."

"Okay, go ahead and keep a close eye on his progress."

...

The incense smoke from the opening ceremony was the first thing to seep in.

Mixed with the smell of paint and new wood, the set construction was just finished, the paint wasn't completely dry, several light stands were set up on both sides of the corridor, the lighting hadn't been adjusted yet, and the voice of the scriptwriters could be heard intermittently from the walkie-talkie. The whole crew was like a machine that had just been wound up, not yet running, but already humming.

Zeng Hao followed behind Peng Bing as they walked past the altar. Cigarette smoke drifted upwards, making his eyes sting.

"President Zeng came specifically to start filming, which greatly encouraged our entire crew," Peng Bing said as he walked, his voice sincere and not just polite. "I have confidence in this film."

"Um."

Peng Bing smiled, said nothing more, and led him towards the main shooting area.

The first scene today is the scene of a concubine serving her husband in a side hall of the imperial bedchamber.

Yu Wanyin (Wang Cuihua after transmigrating into the book) is forced to enter the palace to serve the emperor, where she has her first direct encounter with Xiahou Dan (originally named Zhang San), a tyrant who is also a transmigrator.

It wasn't the main attraction, but it set the tone.

This scene needs to establish Yu Wanyin's beautiful disguise and her panicked struggle for survival.

Xiahou Dan's sinister and mad criticism and his hidden expectations.

The two time travelers successfully connected via their coded communication, which facilitated their subsequent alliance.

Zeng Hao stood next to the monitor and glanced around.

The lighting team was still adjusting the color temperature to highlight the alluring feel of the candlelight in the hall and to accentuate Yu Wanyin's panic beneath her feigned composure.

The props were undergoing a final check. The glass cups on the table had to be arranged in a staggered manner to match the luxurious yet oppressive atmosphere of the Tyrant's Palace. The script supervisor waited with a sign in hand.