Chapter 87: Bargaining

Perhaps because Cao Sheng's terms were too outrageous, Zhu Weilian, Wang Jing, and Lao Zhang all fell silent for a moment, staring at each other like bewildered fruits on a bewildered tree, with you and me beneath it.

Cao Sheng's terms had completely nullified all the arguments they had prepared in advance.

Zhu Weilian gave Wang Jing and Lao Zhang a glance, signaling them to speak.

Wang Jing smiled bitterly and said to Cao Sheng: "Cao Sheng, we truly came here with sincerity, so we hope you'll show some sincerity too. We can give you shares, we can offer you discounts, we can make it even more favorable—but you can't ask us to give you shares for free, can you? What do you think?"

Lao Zhang chimed in: "Exactly, Mr. Cao! You're still a student, but we know a bit about your income—you're definitely not a poor student, right? Cooperation must be mutually beneficial; one side can't laugh while the other cries. Who's ever heard of equity without payment?"

Zhu Weilian forced a smile as he looked at Cao Sheng.

Cao Sheng spread his hands. "If you think my terms are too extreme and can't accept them, then forget the equity deal—I don't care."

Retreat to advance.

Zhu Weilian and the others had come here specifically to seek out Cao Sheng to discuss equity precisely because they wanted to tie him to Rongshu Xia—not because Cao Sheng wanted to be tied to them.

Cao Sheng knew perfectly well who held the initiative.

Wang Jing: "..."

Lao Zhang: "..."

Both instinctively turned to look at Zhu Weilian.

Zhu Weilian frowned, silent.

At this moment, Zhu Weilian felt a knot of frustration in his chest.

He didn't want to accept Cao Sheng's terms—who likes giving away their own shares for free?

But he also clearly understood the current situation of Rongshu Xia.

The original path of Rongshu Xia was no longer viable; the entire website's atmosphere had been thrown off course by Cao Sheng's "I Wish to Become an Immortal." Once a literary site centered on prose, poetry, and short stories, it now had almost no one writing those short forms anymore because of Cao Sheng's "I Wish to Become an Immortal."

Most had begun following the trend and writing long serialized novels.

But few of these imitations could meet the publishing house's standards.

The authors writing these novels could rely on love-powered electricity.

But could Rongshu Xia, as a website, survive on love-powered electricity? Rent, utilities, staff salaries—all these expenses had to be paid on time.

Transformation and financing had become his only viable option.

If he couldn't secure funding quickly and find a financial backer for Rongshu Xia, its cash flow would soon break, and the site would collapse.

So the key issue now was to increase Rongshu Xia's fundraising leverage.

Binding the hottest new writer in China, both online and offline—Zhongyuan Yidianhui—to Rongshu Xia was the best leverage he could think of.

If he could bind Zhongyuan Yidianhui to Rongshu Xia, he could use this leverage to tell investors stories, paint grand pictures, convince them that Rongshu Xia's future was bright, and thus win their generous investment.

So the most crucial step in his plan was to bind Zhongyuan Yidianhui to Rongshu Xia.

If binding succeeded, subsequent fundraising would become easier.

Otherwise, as an internet literature site, Rongshu Xia was inherently a light-asset cultural company with wildly fluctuating value—how many investors would dare invest?

Amid a whirl of thoughts, Zhu Weilian sighed inwardly and forced a faint smile. "Mr. Cao, we'll offer you 15% of the shares at half price. How about that?"

Cao Sheng: "I really have no money."

Zhu Weilian: "..."

Lao Zhang couldn't help asking: "If we can't reach an agreement this time, you won't immediately leave Rongshu Xia, will you?"

Cao Sheng shook his head. "Not at all. Since I already promised to serialize 'I Wish to Become an Immortal' for free on your site, I'll finish the serialization."

Lao Zhang asked again: "What about your next book? I remember you asked us to help you contact mainland publishers for 'I Wish to Become an Immortal,' and you promised your next book would also be serialized for free on Rongshu Xia. That won't change, right?"

Cao Sheng nodded. "Of course. A verbal promise is still a promise—I won't break my word."

He paused, then added: "But my next book will be about two hundred thousand words—similar in length to 'Living with the Air Hostess'—so it'll be serialized quickly."

His original plan for the next book was "The Divine Tomb," which was far longer than two hundred thousand words.

But writing a two-hundred-thousand-word novel on short notice posed no difficulty for him.

After all, Rongshu Xia didn't know his original next work was a massive epic like "The Divine Tomb."

So he could fulfill his promise.

What he was betting on now wasn't just Rongshu Xia's claim to his two serialized novels.

Otherwise, they wouldn't have come here specifically to discuss equity.

After all, even if they didn't come to discuss equity, his previous promises would likely have remained unchanged—so why did they come to talk about equity?

Now it was up to Zhu Weilian to choose.

Zhu Weilian fell silent for a moment, then asked: "Mr. Cao, if we give you 10% of the shares, can you guarantee writing at least how many ten thousand words on our site?"

Cao Sheng replied: "What do you think?"

Zhu Weilian thought: He produces about two to three chapters per month in Taiwan, each around sixty thousand words—that means he can write no more than two hundred thousand words per month, and about two million per year at most. That's probably his limit.

Three years would be six million words.

Five years would be ten million words.

But the vast majority of writers in China never write ten million words in their entire lives. He's likely in his creative peak now; once this peak passes, he might not even write a million words a year.

"Ten million words. If you can guarantee writing at least ten million words on Rongshu Xia from now on, I'll hand you the 10% shares—no payment required from you. How's that?"

Ten million words?

Cao Sheng was surprised by Zhu Weilian's ambition.

He chuckled lightly and countered: "Are you trying to buy out my entire career? Ten percent shares won't do, then."

Ten million words—if he pushed himself to the limit—would take at least three or four years.

It's almost 1999 now.

Qidian Chinese Website was founded in 2002 and launched its VIP subscription service in 2003—exactly three or four years from now.

So he thought promising to serialize ten million words on Rongshu Xia wasn't impossible.

Even if he delayed going to Qidian by one or two years, it wouldn't be a big problem.

He could accept the time and word count.

But ten million words…

In this day and age, besides himself, Cao Sheng, which writer would dare sign such a contract?

Who else could guarantee they'd write this many words in their lifetime?

"Then how many shares do you want?"

Zhu Weilian asked.

If he could bind the next ten million words of Zhongyuan Yidianhui to Rongshuxia, his chances of securing funding afterward would be very high.

Cao Sheng smiled, "At least 20% of the shares."

"Too many! No way!"

Zhu Weilian shook his head and rejected it.

Cao Sheng chuckled, "Then reduce the word count: five million words, 10% shares."

"Five million words is too few! No way! At your pace, you'd finish it in two or three years—no way! Absolutely not!"

Zhu Weilian objected again.

Cao Sheng laughed, "This won't work, that won't work—then forget it! Come on, Director Zhu, Sister Wang, Old Zhang, let me toast you again. You've rarely come to Huizhou—tonight, eat well, drink well! Come on—cheers!"

He realized Zhu Weilian was determined to tie him to Rongshuxia for years.

If that was the case, what was there to rush about?

Right then, he raised his glass to toast, and let's see if Zhu Weilian could hold his ground.

Could Zhu Weilian hold his ground?