Chapter 17: This Guy

This three-choice selection likely originated from Zhu Yuanyuan’s child’s hundred-day banquet.

Not many celebrities attended back then; Li Mingqi was one of them, having collaborated with Zhu Yuanyuan on Yang Yazhou’s directed drama “Family of Nine Phoenixes.”

Among Zhu Yuanyuan, Xin Baiqing, and Li Mingqi, there’s no need to hesitate—choose one.

Obviously, Teacher Li Mingqi.

Try to avoid the TV drama “Bad Pig Princess” at the time.

Otherwise, Teacher Li might poke you with a needle and make you scream like a stuck pig.

Qi Hao slurped up the last of his instant noodle broth, and Zhang Nan swiftly came over to clean up.

Though the second-generation service made one uneasy, it felt genuinely good—a peculiar kind of thrill.

“Zhang Nan…”

“Brother Hao, just call me Xiao Nan.”

The second-generation not only provided excellent service but also had a great attitude.

If not for Lao Tian’s resume noting he’d already confirmed with relevant parties, I’d suspect he was an impostor.

This is a second-generation with ideals, ambition, and the ability to adapt.

“Alright, Xiao Nan, here’s your first task…”

Layered outsourcing means the system assigns the task to Qi Hao, and Qi Hao then delegates it to the laborers.

In a certain sense, he now finds task execution easier than when he first got the system in 1997.

Back then, getting even a single line as a background extra wasn’t easy.

Shooting commercials also depended on luck—not just because you were good-looking did someone hire you.

As for shooting calendar photos…

The difficulty was unknown, but overall, female stars found it easier than male stars.

Some more explicit ones were even hung on bathroom walls.

I can’t fathom what the boss was thinking.

It was just incredibly awkward.

“Brother Hao, you say!”

Was he really being entrusted so soon? Could he now fulfill his duties as an agent?

Zhang Nan couldn’t believe his luck.

“Help me contact someone—I plan to shoot a calendar photo set,” Qi Hao observed Zhang Nan closely.

To see if he showed any look of contempt.

The first requirement for being his agent was to endure his bizarre demands.

With this broken system, there’d be more to come.

“Calendar? Why do you want to shoot a calendar?”

In fact, any sentient being likely felt similar confusion—Zhang Nan was no exception.

He wasn’t some puppet who’d do anything you told him.

“Hmm…”

Just as Qi Hao was thinking how to fabricate an excuse, Zhang Nan suddenly understood: “Oh, I get it.”

Qi Hao immediately clamped his mouth shut.

What exactly did you get? I haven’t even figured it out myself.

“You’re shooting calendar photos as gifts for fans, right? Wow, that’s brilliant—celebrating the studio’s launch and rewarding fans, it’s a genius way to win more followers!”

Zhang Nan clapped his hands, utterly awed by Qi Hao.

He felt he had too much to learn.

Planning an artist’s career development should be his responsibility as an agent, but his lack of experience meant he needed the artist to remind him.

“Yes, exactly…” Qi Hao nodded vigorously.

This agent was excellent—so considerate.

“Later, pick some lucky fans and mail them the calendars—they’ll be ecstatic; also, authorize free digital versions for everyone to use as desktop wallpapers…”

Zhang Nan pulled out a sheet of paper and quickly jotted down the project’s key points.

From start to finish—contacting designers, stylists, photographers… applying for publication numbers with publishers…

“Is this considered a publication?” Qi Hao asked, surprised.

“Yes, you need a publication number. Brother Hao, don’t worry—I know people in this field. Getting the number isn’t hard; publishers can prioritize and rush it—we’ll have the calendars ready by New Year’s Eve…”

Zhang Nan didn’t find applying for a publication number at all troublesome.

He even claimed he’d finish it before New Year’s Eve, even though it was already mid-December.

“Alright, you handle it—do a good job!”

Next year, I’ll get you a sister-in-law.

Qi Hao was extremely satisfied with Zhang Nan—nothing like that Lao Tian guy, who couldn’t help him solve a single problem and spent all day scheming to steal Ao Bai.

He couldn’t even help come up with a decent excuse.

Useless!

“Um… shouldn’t I consult with Brother Tian?”

Zhang Nan had gotten so carried away he forgot he was still an intern—everything had to be guided by Lao Tian.

“No need—it’s a small thing, don’t tell him.”

Qi Hao said dismissively; Lao Tian would probably be relieved someone else handled such annoyances.

“You’re hiding something from me!” Lao Tian walked in just as he heard this.

His anger spiked sharply.

So this is how it is.

Just a few days ago you had my agent status revoked, and today you’re scheming behind my back with a new agent.

And you won’t even tell me!

This is too much!

“Brother Tian, Brother Hao came up with an idea—to shoot a calendar photo set to reward fans now that our studio has launched, and make digital versions freely available online…”

Without needing Qi Hao to speak, Zhang Nan spilled everything, one detail after another.

Then he explained how, as a “probationary agent,” he planned to execute the boss’s vision.

He even criticized himself for not thinking of such a low-cost, high-efficiency promotional plan himself.

From now on, he’d work hard and learn from Brother Tian and Brother Hao.

Lao Tian listened, stunned.

But he didn’t believe a single word.

Not quite—he at least knew “calendar” came from Qi Hao’s mouth.

And then…

This Zhang Nan was a brain-assuming weirdo.

He didn’t expose him, only nodded with feigned composure: “You did well—I’ll hire you an assistant later.”

As for why Qi Hao wanted to shoot calendars, he’d grown used to it by now.

"When does Zhan Qi Lai Deng start work?" Qi Hao asked.

The studio was nearly ready.

New agent Zhang Nan was in place; adding an assistant and driver would form a small team centered around Qi Hao.

The agent primarily managed Qi Hao’s daily affairs, coordinated cooperation with other companies and institutions, and arranged promotions and performances.

Public relations would be handled by Zhan Qi Lai Deng—An Yu.

Mainly image maintenance, management, and crisis PR.

Due to An Yu’s nature, Lao Tian hired another man, Shi Feng, to complement him.

Shi Feng differed from An Yu—he focused more on planning promotions and marketing strategies, communicating and cooperating with media, fans, and other institutions to increase Qi Hao’s exposure and fame.

Relying on An Yu to communicate with others wasn’t PR—it was inviting hatred.

Probably because he was beaten so much as a child, his talent for causing trouble grew daily; An Yu was top-tier in crisis PR, and Lao Tian valued him for precisely that.

He also hired an old legal expert named Yao Weihong and a financial officer named Fan Xuexue.

Lao Tian temporarily handled other duties…

Qi Hao, Lao Tian, An Yu, Shi Feng, Zhang Nan, Yao Weihong, Fan Xuexue—seven people for now. Once assistants, drivers, and stylists were hired, the studio would exceed ten people.

Though few in number, they already surpassed the normal size of most celebrity studios.

Most celebrity studios had only three to five people.

Other functions could be outsourced.

Mostly because Qi Hao’s status demanded it—he was one of the Four Little Kings and a Best Actor; he deserved the proper prestige.

“Heh, one of the Four Little Kings—I’ll remove that title soon enough.”

Qi Hao didn’t care about the other four Little Kings—he now had a system.

Does Huang Dahan have one?

Nie Yuan… Nie Yuan was practically dead.

Tong Dawei was nothing special.

All the heroes under heaven… Hmph!

“Good! Brother Hao is awesome!” Zhang Nan’s face flushed with excitement.

He had chosen the right person.

If you want to be the top agent in the entertainment industry, choosing the right person is key— as Qi Hao rises, so will he.

I don’t need to come from a wealthy family—I am the wealthy family!

“Eh! (ε=(´ο｀*)))” Lao Tian felt exhausted and utterly superfluous.

If it weren’t for Aobai, he would’ve left long ago.

“Why are all these people men?!” Qi Hao didn’t understand—he counted and counted, and not a single woman appeared.

Even the finance position, usually filled by women, was held by a man.

“How can you ask why there are no female employees? You’re hoping to start rumors with them too, aren’t you?” Lao Tian was being deliberate.

“Damn, no women? Fine, no big deal. Why get so mad?”

Qi Hao instantly caved.

Zhang Nan turned away and went back to admiring Lao Tian.

Brother Tian is mighty and awesome—he’s the absolute model for all agents.

When he got home that night, Qi Hao kicked Aobai out of the room, lay down, and prepared to begin today’s training.

Unexpectedly, he received a system prompt the moment he entered.

The training mode had upgraded.

Did it upgrade this easily?

The first time was Zhou Xun, the second Liu De, the third Li Lianjie—only three times total.

Still, Qi Hao wouldn’t refuse an upgrade.

After confirming, he quickly learned what had changed.

In simple terms, it went from a single plug to a dual plug.

Previously, he could only spar with training NPCs; now he could embody an NPC and spar with anyone outside the system.

This upgrade was extremely effective.

Take Li Lianjie—he could definitely improve his martial acting by sparring with him, but Qi Hao always played someone other than Li Lianjie.

What he truly wanted to learn was Li Lianjie himself.

Now that it was dual plug, Qi Hao became Li Lianjie inside the training space.

Because of the sudden upgrade, today’s training suddenly became interesting.

Originally, if he chose Li Mingqi, there’d be no need to pick “The Bad Pig Princess.”

Whether you chose Ziwei or Xiaoyanzi, you’d still get poked by Rong Jiao.

Now he could embody Teacher Li Mingqi.

Then…

What are we waiting for?

Ziwei, Xiaoyanzi, get your asses up right now!