Chapter 310: A Billion-Dollar Business

During the release of *The Brave's Game*, Wei Ming, as a newcomer to the industry, received a 9% royalty share, shared among the original author, translator, and illustrator.

By the time *The Lion King* was released, Melinda's efforts adjusted it to 10%.

Now, Wei Ming's works enjoy a 15% royalty share.

*Jurassic Park* won't be adapted into an illustrated book, eliminating the illustrator's share, and translation fees can be increased to reduce the translator's cut—Wei Ming alone securing over one-tenth of the total revenue from *Jurassic Park* is no problem at all.

Wei Ming handed the new contract to Wei Lingling for review; his English reading, writing, listening, and speaking were no longer problematic, but professional legal terminology still exceeded his grasp.

Everything before was fine, but Wei Lingling focused closely on the global distribution clauses.

For example, releasing *The Lion King* in Taiwan—should it be translated from the English illustrated version into traditional Chinese, or directly from the Chinese version of *The Lion King*? That was the issue.

Wei Lingling preferred the latter, as it would maximize Wei Ming's earnings, while the publisher favored the former to avoid review risks.

It's not easy for mainland authors to publish in Taiwan, but if you route it through Britain first, it becomes feasible.

Wei Lingling also paid close attention to the term of cooperation.

An author's book contract with a publisher has a fixed term, usually five to ten years; Melinda secured five years for Wei Ming, which Wei Lingling found satisfactory.

That means after five years, Macmillan loses the right to print and publish the book; Wei Ming can choose another publisher or continue with Macmillan.

For a fleeting bestseller, it doesn't matter much—but if you aim for a long-selling book, this issue must be handled with care.

It's similar to an artist signing an agency contract; anyone with ambition avoids signing too long a term.

Five years—by then, the *Jurassic Park* movie probably hasn't even hit theaters yet, and the true peak sales period for this book series is still far off.

After lengthy discussions and negotiations, the contract, which Wei Ming originally thought was flawless, was revised over ten times, making it overall more favorable to Wei Ming and securing his status as a global bestseller author.

For the first time, Melinda gained a completely new appreciation for her aunt's professional competence; even though these issues weren't deliberately targeted by the company, correcting them early was better than fighting over them later—and Melinda also developed new, special feelings toward Wei Lingling for the first time.

On the fourth day in London, Melinda brought Wei Ming and Wei Lingling to the New London Theatre in London's West End; the collaboration with Andrew Lloyd Webber on the musical *The Lion King* carried weight in Wei Ming's heart no less than the novel's royalty.

Whether now or in the future, ticket revenue from musicals and plays far exceeds that of films, since they require live performances repeatedly, with zero tolerance for errors.

Fortunately, Wei Ming's group had complimentary tickets, and they sat in the front row, allowing them to experience the musical's charm more clearly.

Britain, the birthplace of Shakespeare, already had a strong foundation in stage theater; combined with *Cats*, which had gone viral since its premiere last month and sold out completely, nearly every seat was filled when they entered, including many children dressed in formal attire.

*Cats* was adapted by Webber from T. . Eliot's children's poetry collection *Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats*; its successful performance revealed to Webber the immense influence of children's or family-friendly musicals.

If London's old gentlemen wanted to cultivate their children's appreciation for musical theater, even if they adored Shakespeare, they had to admit that *Cats*, with its cast of cats, was far more suitable than Shakespeare's tragedies and comedies.

But what if this play was connected to Shakespeare, featured animals, and appealed to children's tastes?

Webber first learned of it because one actress in *Cats*, Sarah Brightman, played a minor role—but suddenly her song became a hit, and many came to see *Cats* just for her; she even became famous in North America.

It was a song commemorating John Lennon; even without the celebrity tribute element, it was still an excellent song.

Thus Webber discovered this unknown musician, and through Sarah Brightman, learned he was also a children's author—and from distant the East.

Coincidentally, Wei Ming's new book *The Lion King* was selling wildly in Britain; Webber bought a copy on a whim, and upon reading it, was awestruck.

Although the plot didn't follow Hamlet's tragic arc exactly, Shakespeare's influence was clearly visible in this fairy tale; moreover, the story was vivid and engaging, with richer animal characters and a more mysterious African setting than *Cats*, which featured only cats.

He felt the illustrated version was too abbreviated, so through Sarah's connection, he obtained the complete translated text of *The Lion King* from Melinda; after reading the entire novel, Webber firmly decided: after *Cats*, he would create a musical of *The Lion King*!

This story, created by a Chinese author, set in Africa, yet infused with British heritage, held immense commercial potential and was ideal for global promotion.

When Wei Ming and the others were seated, Andrew Lloyd Webber, the musical maestro, had already been peering over from the side of the stage.

"Mr. Webber, what are you looking at?" came a pure voice from behind; Webber described it as having a childlike quality.

"Sarah," Webber said gently to the little cat behind him, "give a great performance, and afterward I'll introduce you to someone."

At twenty-one, Sarah Brightman played a cat named "Jemima" in *Cats*; her role was small, but due to her unexpected success in pop music, many young audience members bought tickets just for her.

Soon, the performance began; *Cats* was a two-act musical, 140 minutes long, including a 20-minute intermission.

"Act One: The Jellicle Ball at Midnight."

As a musical, it naturally featured beautiful songs; the opening number introduced the Jellicle cats' gathering through singing, and each cat's self-introduction was a song.

The rock cat's "Rum Tum Tugger," blending dynamic jazz and rock, showcased his rebellious, narcissistic personality, and the dance was visually striking and explosive.

The theater cat's "Gus: The Theatre Cat," a lyrical, nostalgic piece, filled with melancholy and memories of past glory.

There was also the railway cat's "Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat," a tap-dance number, light and cheerful.

Of course, the one Wei Ming most anticipated was "Grizabella the Glamour Cat" singing "Memory"; as soon as the song began, the entire audience's emotions were stirred, and Wei Ming was fully immersed.

Elegant, so elegant!

This song, centered on loneliness, regret, and redemption, was the core theme of *Cats*; Webber composed it in a single night—truly a genius.

In just a few minutes, it told Grizabella's entire life: young and dazzling, she rejected mediocrity, left her clan to explore the world, suffered setbacks, returned in old age empty-handed and faded, and her own kind refused to accept this wanderer.

The actress portraying Grizabella on stage was Elaine Paige, the undisputed queen of the global musical theater stage, who had collaborated with Webber multiple times; later, Barbra Streisand and Sarah Brightman also performed this song, and it was frequently attempted by female singers on Chinese singing shows.

The lyrics and melody were flawless; its emotion transcended language and reached every listener's heart; as long as the singer was skilled, the result was rarely poor.

"Memory" appeared once in Act One and once in Act Two; the first time, you heard regret; the second, release; the intensity built layer by layer, and Elaine Paige's performance nearly tore the theater ceiling apart.

Even though old Londoners still maintained their gentlemanly decorum, the audience couldn't help gently applauding, offering their respect for her performance.

Finally, Grizabella calmed the other cats' hostility toward her, and she was successfully sent to heaven by the "Leader Cat."

At the end of the performance, all actors—including the director and Webber—took the stage to bow to the audience; the crowd finally unleashed unrestrained, thunderous, and prolonged applause.

Sarah Brightman also spotted her new friend Melinda, beside whom stood a tall, handsome Eastern man—could he be Melinda's ex-boyfriend?!

Could Mr. Webber be introducing me to him?!

As expected, shortly after removing her makeup, Sarah met Melinda and the others in a reception room behind the theater.

After introductions, her identity was confirmed; the other Eastern woman was his lawyer.

Since Sarah had become globally famous singing Wei Ming's song, Webber brought her along to foster closeness and facilitate future negotiations.

At first, they simply got to know each other; Webber now learned Wei Ming wasn't an overseas Chinese from Europe or America, but a native of mainland China—yet he spoke fluent English and even composed music.

"Are there Lennon fans in mainland China?" both asked, curious and probing.

"Yes, but not many; I work at a university and have many international student friends, and some people with overseas connections can hear the latest Western music."

Webber asked curiously: "If we bring *Cats* to perform in China, would there be a market?"

This guy hasn't even conquered Broadway yet, and he's already eyeing developing countries for profit.

Wei Ming shook his head regretfully: "It'll probably take a few more years; China's English proficiency isn't yet sufficient to cultivate enough audiences, and purchasing power is still inadequate—but Hong Kong could be tested."

Webber nodded; he recalled the recent visit of a Chinese theater troupe with *Teahouse* to Europe—he'd gone to see it; though the stage design was excellent, he couldn't understand it at all, and most of the audience were still Chinese.

After discussing minor topics, Webber turned to *The Lion King*.

He opened with a price he believed Wei Ming couldn't refuse.

One million pounds to buy out the stage adaptation rights for *The Lion King*.

For a novel that hadn't yet reached true million-copy sales, this was an extremely high price; even though *Cats* was now so popular, its total box office hadn't yet reached one million pounds, and it hadn't even turned a profit yet—such a sum was a significant investment even for a major company.

Melinda and Wei Lingling, neither yet fully aware of *The Lion King*'s future value, found the price astonishing; one million pounds was nearly equivalent to ten million Hong Kong dollars!

Especially Wei Lingling, who began reevaluating her nephew: the musical rights to a single novel could instantly outmatch that Hong Kong toy factory.

If other rights were included, and if he wrote a few more such works, wouldn't his wealth rival that of his uncle?

Could a writer possibly compete financially with a family entrenched in politics and business for decades?

Unbelievable!

Webber said: "I offered a direct buyout because you're Chinese; participating in performance royalties would be inconvenient."

Box office figures are easy to manipulate, but costs and profits have vast room for adjustment—it's better to settle it outright.

You're in China; how generous could you be expected to be without taking advantage?

But Wei Ming said: "I'm not afraid of inconvenience."

His meaning: I truly want to participate in the royalties.

Wei Lingling was the first to realize: yes, if it truly has potential, even if it reached only half the popularity of *Cats*, the royalty share might be more profitable than the buyout.

In reality, the total box office of the *The Lion King* musical was about four times that of *Cats*—and its run was over a decade shorter!

Even if Wei Ming received only one or two percent of the box office revenue, that would be a billion- or two-billion-dollar business!

In the world of musical theater, a successful show can run indefinitely; similarly, before his rebirth, Wei Ming had seen *Teahouse* still commanding enormous box office appeal on stage, with every performance sold out.

If Shakespeare were alive today, his income from stage performances alone would make him the wealthiest writer in history.

Webber primarily wanted to make things convenient for Wei Ming; offering a direct million-pound buyout was already a heavy burden for his company; since Wei Ming insisted, he didn't refuse.

Wei Lingling immediately proposed: "We can establish a copyright company overseas through a trusted person; the company would directly collaborate with Mr. Webber to develop the *The Lion King* musical, collect royalties, and pay royalties."

This company should ideally be based in the UK or US for easier accounting.

Webber had no objection; the question now was: who would hold the company on Wei Ming's behalf?

Wei Ming looked at the British Melinda, then at the American Wei Lingling, and finally fixed his gaze on Melinda: "Melinda, if you were to start this company, would it interfere with your current job?"

Wei Lingling's expression darkened; Melinda beamed: "It wouldn't interfere at all; I have little business anyway."

Wei Ming: "Then good—you two start the company together. You'll be the Europe director, she'll be the North America director. Not only will *The Lion King*'s musical rights be managed by this company, but all my future overseas rights will be handled by it."

It can be a functional shell now; when the time is right, Wei Ming might even use it as a foundation to expand overseas operations and build a global entertainment empire!

(End of Chapter)