Chapter 152: The Terrifying Distribution Power and the First Batch of Signed Artists

In August, The Detective Di Renjie finally premiered on CCTV-8.

Although it aired in a non-prime slot, it still achieved impressive ratings, averaging around 3% and peaking close to 5%, consistently ranking in the top three during its timeslot.

Don't forget, this is CCTV-8.

Ratings are calculated as the percentage of target viewers watching a specific program during a given time period relative to the total target audience.

For example, if 100 million TVs are installed nationwide and 3 million are tuned to the same channel watching the same drama at the same time, the rating is 3%.

Therefore, the same rating carries different influence depending on each broadcaster's penetration rate.

For instance, if a channel has 300 million TVs installed, a 3% rating means nearly 10 million TVs are actively watching.

In this regard, CCTV has a clear and decisive advantage over local satellite channels.

At this time, satellite dishes and cable TV had not yet become widespread, and due to technical and signal limitations, the number of satellite channels accessible on each TV varied widely.

Some households could receive forty or fifty channels, nearly all available satellite stations, while others could only access a dozen or so, mostly local channels.

As one of the most popular CCTV channels, CCTV-8's penetration rate was undoubtedly among the highest.

Thus, although The Detective Di Renjie's rating figures might not seem dazzling, that doesn't mean it wasn't popular.

Others might not feel it deeply, but the main creative team of The Detective Di Renjie certainly did.

Liang Guanhua, a pillar of the People's Art Theatre, had been called Zhang Damin for the past two years rather than by his real name.

Within just a few days, whenever he went out, people now called him not only Zhang Damin but also Di Renjie, and some even questioned how he'd gotten so young.

Zhang Zijian, who played Li Yuanfang, had been in the industry for a long time and had starred in several well-received leading roles, such as Yan Shuangying in Hero, but none had brought him fame as quickly as Li Yuanfang.

Qian Yanqiu, the director, had also gained more weight.

Previously, when people called him "Director Qian," it was out of politeness; now, it was genuine respect—in his own words, he'd become a real figure.

Yan Li didn't enjoy the spotlight like these front-facing figures; he kept quietly earning money.

The investment for The Detective Di Renjie was just over 10 million yuan; CCTV's acquisition price was low, recovering only about half the cost.

That was understandable—CCTV's self-produced dramas were designed to save money; pouring heavy funds into its own productions would be either foolish or money laundering.

Although CCTV took the lion's share, the drama's success still left room for profit.

Especially on local terrestrial channels, the CCTV brand was extremely effective; if the price was reasonable, many stations were eager to buy.

Yi'an's marketing department had already secured some contracts, but after the drama exploded in popularity, Yan Li personally took charge and directed operations.

Many in the marketing department knew their boss, Yan Li, was not only skilled at negotiation but even more exceptional at selecting precise partners.

Other distributors, upon acquiring a project, first tapped their old connections, then approached TV stations one by one, engaging in contact, communication, and negotiation to eliminate those uninterested or insincere.

It was time-consuming and exhausting, and often resulted in wasted effort.

Once, the marketing director Xiao Guan led a team aiming to secure a one-million-yuan contract.

After spending half a month narrowing down to two strong prospects, they spent weeks negotiating, wasting money, time, and even their health (drinking), yet still failed to close the deal.

The entire marketing department's morale plummeted, and when Yan Li found out, he gave them a lesson.

Three days!

Strictly speaking, it was a bit over two days—Yan Li found new potential partners.

Within two negotiations, totaling less than a week, he secured a one-million-yuan contract, with a final price nearly 40% higher than the one Xiao Guan's team had failed to land after weeks of effort.

In Yi'an Company, while other departments didn't fully grasp it, the marketing department was the most awed by their boss, Yan Li.

Yan Li openly appointed two deputy directors within the marketing department; when the department head, Xiao Guan, went to see Yan Li and confirmed he still held absolute authority, he continued leading his team without hesitation.

Previously, it was said that if Xiao Guan left, half the marketing department would collapse—this was true, but only if Yan Li wasn't involved.

If Yan Li stepped in, even if the marketing department had only two low-level clerks, it could still stand firm against any distributor.

Yan Li now primarily handled satellite channel business.

Even for non-critical projects, he only oversaw initial target screening and final negotiation or pricing; all intermediate liaison work was delegated to subordinates.

If the deal succeeded, the final negotiation and contract signing still counted as the subordinate's achievement, and they shared in the profits.

If the deal failed and no obvious mistakes were made by the subordinate, Yan Li said nothing and simply moved on to find new targets and tried again.

Thus, within Yi'an's marketing department, some projects involving Yan Li were remarkably smooth.

Xiao Guan was the head of the marketing department, but Yan Li was the big brother in the hearts of many.

This time, Yan Li personally directed the terrestrial channel distribution of The Detective Di Renjie.

It signaled his high regard for the project and allowed many marketing staff, especially newcomers, to witness the terrifying power of Yan Li's distribution ability.

As of August, before The Detective Di Renjie's premiere:

Yi'an's marketing department secured six contracts with terrestrial channels or county-level stations, including one one-million-yuan deal, totaling approximately 2. million yuan in sales; according to the 10% distribution share agreed with The Detective Di Renjie's production team, Yi'an earned 250, 00 yuan.

After The Detective Di Renjie premiered, Yan Li personally directed operations.

Within just over a month, he secured firm intentions from eleven additional local and county-level stations, with six more progressing steadily and showing high likelihood of cooperation.

Among these seventeen stations, six were one-million-yuan contracts, with total receipts exceeding 12 million yuan, yielding 1. million yuan in distribution income.

Additionally, negotiations were underway for second-run broadcast rights with two satellite channels, though coordination with CCTV was still needed; once finalized, this would bring another few million.

Although the marketing department had laid groundwork beforehand, the drama's popularity boosted distribution, and Yan Li, as boss, had greater authority and boldness, etc.

But even accounting for all these factors, Yan Li's performance over the past month left Yi'an's marketing department stunned.

The Detective Di Renjie production team, upon hearing the news, felt like they'd lost their minds.

According to a system alert Yan Li received, Qian Yanqiu, upon learning Yi'an had sold over twenty stations (from his perspective) at prices exceeding ten million yuan and turned a profit, couldn't help slapping himself.

"When did TV dramas become this easy to sell?!"

Then he did something—he called CCTV's producer and said, "If anyone tries to keep Yan Li out of The Detective Di Renjie 2, I'll fight them."

Correct—after the first season's success, preparations for the second season had already begun.

But compared to the first season, the second faced some Liyijiuge.

First, CCTV, implementing its separation of production and broadcasting reforms, had tightened internal funding, causing some projects to be abandoned.

The Detective Di Renjie, by performance, shouldn't have been abandoned, but for reasons unknown, the producer ultimately secured it and planned to restart production with new investors.

However, whether the copyright resided with CCTV or the producer was unclear, and no consensus had been reached between the two sides.

But CCTV agreed to let the producer film a sequel, without investing or participating, only agreeing to air it on CCTV.

Meanwhile, Yi'an held 40% of The Detective Di Renjie's copyright.

Although they had signed a coordinated action clause with CCTV, CCTV's copyright status was now ambiguous, whereas Yi'an's position remained clear.

How can coordinated action exist without a coordinated party?

Thus, a strange situation emerged, significantly affecting preparations for The Detective Di Renjie 2.

Originally, Qian Yanqiu favored the CCTV producer's side—they were old friends and longtime collaborators—but after witnessing Yan Li's distribution power, he now leaned toward Yan Li.

Now, The Detective Di Renjie was not a CCTV self-produced drama; it bore its own profits and losses.

Relying solely on CCTV, the project couldn't make much money; profitability depended entirely on post-broadcast distribution.

Yan Li held only the copyright; Qian Yanqiu and his team held both copyright and production crew—they could still bypass Yan Li if needed, even at the cost of some losses.

But with Yan Li's terrifying distribution capability, they had no desire to bypass him—after all, who turns away from money?

If the CCTV producer weren't also a formidable figure and if their personal relationship weren't good, Qian Yanqiu would have kicked him out entirely and partnered directly with Yan Li—one handling production, the other investment and distribution, splitting profits, perfectly.

Not just The Detective Di Renjie 2—they were now even considering bringing Yan Li on board for their new project, The Great Song Mystery: The Legend of the Squirrel Switching the Prince.

Coincidentally, their new drama had a female lead role that suited Dong Xuan perfectly.

Qian Yanqiu was close to Zhao Zhigang, Dong Xuan's classmate, and naturally knew the relationship between Dong Xuan and Yan Li; by offering this favor, their ties would only grow stronger.

"So you see, if you master distribution, you can still thrive."

Yan Li shut down his intelligence system and looked at Dong Xuan, who was examining herself in the mirror.

"I've secured a project—I want to negotiate the female lead for you. Do you have time to shoot?"

In September, Beijing Film Academy opened for the semester, and Dong Xuan and Guan Yue became honored people's teachers.

Of course, they were still teaching assistants, under probation, without formal positions.

But if they successfully stayed on, and no major issues arose, following the routine for a few years, adding credentials and polish, it was only a matter of time.

"Female lead?"

Dong Xuan hesitated: "I'll ask my superiors and see if they'll approve leave."

After all, she'd just started; taking months off to film a female lead role sounded bad.

But in truth, this was common at Beijing Film Academy—teachers and students frequently went out to shoot.

Compared to the more "conservative" Central Academy of Drama, Beijing Film Academy strongly encouraged "practical experience."

Moreover, as a junior assistant, Dong Xuan's school duties were limited; if she became a famous star-teacher through acting, it would benefit the school even more.

Dong Xuan thought she could try to Zhengqu; if denied, she could let Yan Li offer the role to someone else in exchange for favors.

While she was still debating, Yan Li tapped his watch: "Hurry up and eat—you'll be late for work."

"Oh."

Dong Xuan snapped back, biting into the egg Yan Li had peeled, mumbling:

"Do you think this outfit works?"

Since she was still young and had just transitioned from student to teacher, she now dressed more maturely to avoid being overwhelmed by her students.

Yan Li glanced at her: "Not as good as the suit I bought you."

"Pfft."

Dong Xuan, annoyed, threw the half-eaten egg at him—her parents had just returned to their hometown, and Yan Li had moved back into the Beiying compound.

The first thing he did was pull out a women's suit, made her wear it, put on gold-rimmed glasses, and gave him a lesson in respecting teachers, then acted out a whole scene of reverence.

Other playful antics were fine, but since she was a real teacher, she felt more shame about this.

That time, moved by Yan Li's "homelessness," she'd reluctantly given in to his persistent begging, half-pushed, half-persuaded,

But since then, Dong Xuan had firmly resisted, hiding the outfit away and forbidding Yan Li from mentioning it.

Yan Li took the egg, didn't think much of it, and shoved it into his mouth on the spot before offering a serious evaluation.

"Not bad, just a bit plain."

"Plain is better."

Dong Xuan sat down to eat: "That bag you brought me from Europe—I took it to school last time and everyone recognized it. I had to pretend it was a knockoff just to get out of it."

"It's just a bag, isn't it?"

Yan Li didn't care. At other schools it might be unusual, but at their arts school, there were plenty of wealthy teachers and students—carrying a designer bag or wearing expensive jewelry wasn't rare.

Besides, Dong Xuan herself was already a moderately famous actress. She couldn't earn money and not spend it.

"I just started. My position isn't even official yet. Better keep a low profile."

As the most well-known among the new teachers, Dong Xuan was under close watch, so she preferred to avoid attention until she'd firmly established herself at the school.

"I was even thinking of getting you a car—would that be too much too?"

Yan Li bit into a bun. Dong Xuan replied as if it were obvious: "We're less than five minutes' walk from school. Or we go out to shoot. I've got no place to drive it and no time to use it."

Besides, Yan Li already owned two cars, and the company provided a company vehicle.

When Dong Xuan occasionally needed a car, she just had to ask—someone would drive her, even pick her up. She saw no point in buying one.

"Do as you like."

Yan Li ate calmly. Every time money came up, he found it pointless to consult Dong Xuan.

He'd just toss the keys at home. If he didn't drive it, it'd rust. She'd still have to drive it to work, even if it meant taking a detour.

Yan Li understood Dong Xuan, and Dong Xuan understood Yan Li—she warned him not to buy anything foolish.

Earlier, Yan Li had brought her many things from Europe, most of which she didn't recognize. She spent hours poring over her computer and fashion magazines with Guan Yue, checking every item, her heart trembling at the sight of it all.

It cost more than a whole apartment in Beijing!

Yan Li's lavish spending had genuinely frightened her. Even if you made money, you couldn't waste it like this.

Compared to all these flashy things, she still preferred when Yan Li gave her gold—stable, reliable, and if disaster struck, it could be lifesaving money.

Seeing Dong Xuan about to launch into another "wise household management" lecture, Yan Li quickly changed the subject.

"Teacher Dong, it's time. If we don't leave now, we'll be late."

"Oh no."

Dong Xuan checked the time, stuffed an egg into her pant pocket, slipped on her shoes, and hurried out.

Sipping her soy milk slowly, Yan Li thought it wasn't bad that Dong Xuan was a teacher—she went to work on time every day, keeping her busy enough.

Otherwise, for the sake of their relationship, if she took few roles and stayed home idle, she'd spend all day thinking about him—and that'd be worse.

…

After eating, Yan Li watched TV for a while, then went downstairs around nine, driving his Mercedes G500 to the company.

Yi'an Film & Television

The previous 300-square-meter office had already become inadequate for Yi'an's rapid growth.

So the company rented another office upstairs. Staff numbers officially surpassed a hundred, and the company underwent further restructuring.

Originally, there was only a Marketing Department and a Film & Television Department, with everything else under Deputy General Manager Yue Zhaoyang.

Now, the 【Personnel】 and 【Finance】 departments had been split off separately, and two new departments added: 【Screenwriting】 and 【Artist Management】.

Although departments had multiplied, Marketing and Film & Television remained Yi'an Film & Television's two largest.

Yan Li arrived at the company, walked up and down the floors, observing and admiring the company he'd built from scratch, reinforcing his presence as boss.

Then he returned to his office to handle work, hold meetings, or go out as planned.

He brewed a cup of tea, browsed emails and morning documents, when a knock came at the office door.

"Come in."

A woman in her early thirties with glasses pushed the door open—Jia Qian, Director of Yi'an Film & Television's Artist Management Department.

Though her name had a slight drawback, her resume and abilities were solid.

A 1990s university graduate, she had spent years in Hong Kong and Taiwan's entertainment companies handling publicity and marketing.

Yan Li hired her as Yi'an's artist management lead precisely for her connections and networks in Hong Kong and Taiwan, and her skill in packaging and promoting artists.

Times had changed. The film and television industry had become the entertainment industry.

The old-school mainland agent style wasn't outdated, but it had clear drawbacks.

Especially since Yan Li placed high value on an artist's commercial monetization and star appeal.

This wasn't something Wang Jinghua or Chang Jihong's style—focused on film and television, neglecting packaging—could achieve.

So Yi'an's artist management emulated the more advanced, entertainment-driven Hong Kong and Taiwan model: film and television as the base, with heavy emphasis on packaging, promotion, and marketing—prioritizing star status over acting ability, seeking higher commercial returns.

"Manager Yan, here are the artist contracts for Wang Ou and Zhou Yiwei."

Jia Qian's first task upon joining was finalizing the initial artist signings and setting up their teams.

Of course, these artists' current fame was modest, so their team setups weren't complicated.

Each had one assistant, then assigned under an agent or executive agent.

Currently, Yi'an Film & Television had only two official agents: Jia Qian personally handled Wang Ou; the other three were managed by another agent.

Later, when more agents joined or new artists signed, they'd be reassigned accordingly.

Yan Li didn't need an agent—his contract offers and invitations were handled by his secretary Hu Ya; he decided which roles to take and which interviews to accept himself, with no involvement from Artist Management.

It was said that because of this, Hu Ya and the other secretaries had clashed with Jia Qian, who wanted to take over Yan Li's personal management affairs.

In the end, Jia Qian, having just joined the company, didn't want to alienate Yan Li's inner circle, so she backed down.

This was how things went in a growing company. Yan Li didn't bother with these petty moves.

He flipped through the contracts. Jia Qian had already explained most terms to him; the differences were mostly details.

Lin Jiachuan and Zhang Songwen signed six-year contracts with favorable 50-50 splits, but no guaranteed resources.

In short, they were treated as ordinary character actors.

Basically, they'd be versatile supporting roles—probably not earning much, but given a decent split due to Yan Li's connection.

Zhou Yiwei and Wang Ou signed eight-year contracts with a 30-70 split—the company takes 70%—but the company would provide certain resource support.

So even though they only got 30%, if they truly became popular, they'd earn far more than Zhang and Lin.

Of course, these were just the official contracts. In reality, Yan Li would certainly give them special treatment, and as the company's first artists, they received additional benefits.

Future signings would mostly be standard business deals—even if the contract terms were identical, their treatment wouldn't match Wang Ou's.

"Alright, let's finalize it. Contact two media outlets to release press releases."

They weren't famous artists, so no need for grand fanfare—press releases were enough.

"Also, I'll instruct the Film & Television Department to coordinate resources with you. If Marketing has suitable projects, negotiate them—take them if they're good."

Yi'an Film & Television currently had no shortage of ordinary film and television resources.

Especially after establishing its distribution reputation, it had built relationships with many production teams—placing a few actors wasn't difficult.

Take Wang Ou, the current main push—she wasn't short of roles, and the resources were all high-quality.

She was even cast in Tang Ren's "New Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio" and Zhou Yi's sequel to "Water Moon Cave Heaven," titled "The Legend of the Spirit Mirror."

If a suitable role appeared in "Detective Di Renjie 2," she could be placed there too—same for Zhou Yiwei.

"By the way."

Yan Li stopped Jia Qian: "Contact your Hong Kong and Taiwan contacts—see if there are any commercial endorsements or films. If nothing comes up, we'll pay to invest."

"You mean…?"

"I've spotted a big fish. Need to cast some bait to catch her."

"Understood. I'll arrange it."

(End of Chapter)