Chapter 283: This Woman Isn

The activity room fell silent; the foreign guests had left, and many people were stunned.

Although Yang Chen and the others weren't from the English department, who wouldn't understand "one million dollars"?

"Is this book really worth one million dollars?"

Several members of the campus debate team held the trial edition of A Song of Ice and Fire, turning it over in their hands, reluctant to let go, as if they were clutching a stack of green one-million-dollar bills.

Wen Leyu glanced calmly at everyone, then smiled triumphantly at Li Ye, her eyes brimming with quiet pride.

【See, when one million dollars is laid before us, I don't even blink.】

Suddenly, Qin Yongsheng from the Philosophy Department turned around: "Li Ye, you said your book The North Wind Soars sold for how much? Five thousand dollars? You really got ripped off!"

I just passed it from left hand to right—how could that be a loss?

Li Ye smiled and said: "The price of literary works isn't fixed. When someone comes to you voluntarily to buy, it's not the same as you going out to sell."

"Whether it pleases today's readers is another matter—even world classics often lay buried for years before they're rediscovered."

"That's true," Qin Yongsheng nodded, then added: "So how much do you think your book The Lonely Army Longing for Home could sell for?"

Li Ye smiled: "How would I know? It all depends on how much the production company wants it."

Qin Yongsheng pondered, then murmured: "It seems we've all underestimated the true value of literary works. If one book sold for a million dollars, yours should fetch at least three or four hundred thousand!"

Li Ye: "."

Yang Chen said: "Three or four hundred thousand is too high—this one English edition only sold for a million."

"So what if it's English? We're one of the Four Ancient Civilizations—we must report this to Director Xiao. This time, we can't get ripped off. We can't lose our assets."

"."

Watching several enthusiastic classmates rush off to report this urgent matter to the school faculty, Li Ye couldn't help but laugh and sigh.

If Wu Jinyuan were still here, she'd probably be furious enough to drop dead.

They got her to deliver video tapes and TVs, helped explain debate techniques—and now they wanted her to spend more money.

The Lonely Army Longing for Home does have film adaptation potential, but if you asked Wu Jinyuan to spend three hundred thousand dollars on the film rights, Li Ye thought this collaboration might hit a snag.

Sure enough, the next afternoon, Li Huai and Yang Yu came to see Li Ye, their expressions grim.

"Li Ye, today we negotiated rights with the foreign guests from Lijiapu. There's a huge gap in expectations. The school offered three hundred thousand dollars, and Ms. Wu walked out on the spot."

"And then?" Li Ye said calmly. "This isn't just our school's issue—if the project collapses, the other units won't be happy either."

"That's exactly why it's a problem," Yang Yu said. "The TV station and other units are furious—they blame us for ruining this film collaboration."

"Key costumes and props have already started being sampled, designed, and produced. Several major units have even held mobilization meetings. Now it's suddenly falling apart—it's a big blow."

"High price, low offer—negotiate further if three hundred thousand is too much!" Li Ye chuckled. "Besides, why the rush? Even if it falls through, the blame won't land on you."

"It already has," Li Huai said bitterly. "This is fundamentally about the rights to The Lonely Army Longing for Home. From now on, our Lone Army Literature Society will handle all communication with the TV station and Wu Cultural Communications Group."

Li Ye blinked, then grinned: "You've been given authority?"

Yang Yu said: "Yes."

Li Ye asked: "And the benefits? We can't work for free."

Li Huai held up three fingers: "Thirty percent. We keep thirty percent, to distribute as we see fit."

"That works," Li Ye said immediately. "But the individual allocations must be clearly documented by the school, or we'll face criticism later."

"What documentation? Isn't it up to us to decide?"

Li Huai said: "Like our school's research funds—when a thousand is approved, researchers always end up buying fish and pork legs. It's just tradition."

"Still no," Li Ye insisted. "I think fifty to eighty thousand is reasonable. Thirty percent means ten to twenty thousand. There are nearly ten people involved in writing The Lonely Army Longing for Home—how do you split it?"

"Equally."

Li Huai looked at Li Ye: "Before, thirty and ten dollars didn't matter much, but this time, we can't hurt friendships among classmates."

Yang Yu also spoke seriously to Li Ye: "My and Lao Yang's position is: no matter how much money, we split it equally. We need your opinion."

"Then split it equally—I have no objections."

Li Ye was worth millions now—he didn't care about a few thousand.

Besides, Yang Yu and Li Huai's move likely aimed to bind everyone together—if some got more and others less, resentment would grow, and they might not even get paid at all.

But Li Huai looked at Li Ye, hesitated, then said: "What if we can't reach an agreement with Ms. Wu? Can you contact Hong Kong Tap Lang?"

Li Ye finally understood. "You mean, sell the film rights to Tap Lang too?"

Yang Yu and Li Huai nodded together.

Needless to say, both of them possessed strong decisiveness and realized they could no longer put all their hopes on one person.

"You negotiate first. If it fails, I'll ask Hong Kong for you."

Li Ye agreed readily. He felt The Lonely Army Longing for Home's sales were rising steadily across Southeast Asia and the Chinese cultural sphere. Wu Jinyuan had matured distribution channels there—she wouldn't likely pass up this opportunity.

But things took an unexpected turn: Li Huai and Yang Yu couldn't meet Wu Jinyuan for several days. When they finally did, she said she was considering abandoning The Lonely Army Longing for Home to collaborate with a southern film studio on a martial arts film.

Yang Yu sighed: "Now many people demand we transfer the rights for free, saying we shouldn't ruin this hard-won international cooperation. Others say we don't even need to be consulted—just shoot it anyway. They know we won't dare sue."

Li Huai also worried: "Even if we try to sell the rights to Hong Kong now, we'll be criticized. But the Lijiapu guests won't make an offer. I just sent a telegram summoning all our literature society members to finish the ending—and now this happens."

Li Ye was stunned. He'd encountered moral blackmail again. Wu Jinyuan seemed so gentle and refined—but she wasn't a good person at all!

"She hasn't said no yet—then keep negotiating!" Li Ye said coldly. "Have we been too nice these past few days? Has she forgotten whose territory this is?"

Li Huai and Yang Yu pondered long but didn't grasp Li Ye's meaning. They could only reluctantly continue negotiating with Wu Jinyuan—but still got no firm answer.

Then a series of explosive updates arrived, increasing the pressure on the Lone Army Literature Society members.

"You know, Li Ye, our national debate championship footage will air on Lijiapu TV—we're going global!"

"And get this—I heard Ms. Wu is actively negotiating with several universities in Lijiapu to launch an exchange student program. Soon we'll be able to study in Lijiapu!"

"By the way, Li Ye, when's your literature society's The Lonely Army Longing for Home filming? I have a classmate at film school—can he be an extra?"

"."

Days passed. Wu Jinyuan occasionally came to Jingda to discuss with the campus debate team, and even had several cheerful, lighthearted chats with Li Ye—as if nothing unpleasant had ever happened.

But after the September semester began, Li Huai and Yang Yu suddenly stopped chasing Wu Jinyuan for talks—as if they'd given up on adapting The Lonely Army Longing for Home.

This puzzled Wu Jinyuan.

She considered that Li Ye had good ties with Hong Kong Tap Lang, but Tap Lang was just a magazine publisher—it had no film adaptation capacity.

The Lonely Army Longing for Home was a historical costume battle story—its funding needs were enormous. How could a publishing house that made money selling magazines afford it?

But Wu Jinyuan didn't know that a favorable wind was coming—Pei Wencong of Hong Kong was already standing at the Fengkou.

(End of Chapter)