Chapter 69: Flawless Tactics: Securing the Rights to

A restaurant in Jingcheng

Gao Qunshu saw off his guests, returned to the private room, his face dark as death, muttering curses under his breath.

“Fucking bastards, taking advantage of misfortune, fucking….”

Liu Weiwei, knowing he was in a foul mood, patiently soothed him: “If this doesn’t work, go back to that XX company.”

Gao Qunshu rubbed his hair in agitation: “3.5 million is too low. If I sell at this price, I’ll lose over 700,000 net, not even counting the time and energy I’ve poured in.”

Liu Weiwei fell silent. As someone close to Gao Qunshu, she understood his pressure.

“Conquest” originally had investors, but when some pulled out, Gao Qunshu had no choice but to cover the costs himself.

Though Gao Qunshu had directed several dramas, they were all low-budget productions; only “Thirteen Murders” had any real impact, and most of the time, he was just a hired hand.

So Gao Qunshu’s savings were modest. The total cost of “Conquest” was 4.2 million, and he bore more than half.

Gao Qunshu didn’t have that much money—he borrowed heavily and mortgaged his house.

With “Conquest” struggling to sell, if it lost money, Gao Qunshu wouldn’t just be ruined—he’d be financially shattered.

By now, Gao Qunshu had long given up on making a profit from “Conquest.” He only hoped to break even, at least avoid massive losses.

“Four million. Minimum three hundred and eighty.”

Gao Qunshu stated his bottom line, smiling bitterly: “I’ll accept the loss—but I need enough to pay off my debts and redeem my house.”

Watching Gao Qunshu smoke one cigarette after another in despair, Liu Weiwei had no solution—she could only sit in silent company.

The two stayed in the private room for over half an hour, until the waiter politely reminded them, then rose to leave—only to hear a shout as they reached the lobby.

“Director Gao? Sister Wei?”

Gao Qunshu and Liu Weiwei turned—and were startled: “Little Yan? What are you doing here?”

“Just met a client, stopped by for a quick meal. What a coincidence! I’ve missed you two so much.”

Dressed sharply, Yan Li warmly grabbed Gao Qunshu’s arm, pulled him and Liu Weiwei to his table, and called the waiter to order more dishes.

Liu Weiwei said they’d already eaten, stopped him from ordering more, then studied Yan Li curiously.

“Little Yan, you’re doing well now. What are you up to? Not acting anymore?”

“Still acting, but I’m also doing some behind-the-scenes work.”

Gao Qunshu remembered someone had inquired about Yan Li before—his mind stirred: “Did you go to Huayi?”

“No.”

Yan Li shook his head. He knew what Gao Qunshu meant and smiled: “Sister Hua wanted me to be her agent, then she wanted to sign me as an artist. I’m too lazy and free-spirited—I turned them down. I started my own little thing, just for the freedom.”

“So you’re a boss now.”

Liu Weiwei flattered him. Yan Li waved it off: “Can’t say that. I just earn my sweat money.”

Gao Qunshu asked casually: “What’s your main business?”

Yan Li had been waiting for this question. He smiled: “TV drama distribution.”

TV drama… distribution?!

Gao Qunshu and Liu Weiwei exchanged glances, eyes narrowing—this was too convenient.

Had they not been sure they had nothing worth stealing, they’d have suspected Yan Li was lying in wait for them.

Gao Qunshu, older and more composed, stayed silent. Liu Weiwei didn’t care—she’d try anything, even if it was a long shot.

“How’d you get into this?”

“Ah, it’s a long story.”

Yan Li began his rehearsed tale: luck had favored him—he met a few good seniors who helped him run errands, and from there, he built connections, gradually picking up small jobs, accumulating funds and contacts with TV stations.

Out in the world, your identity and resume are what you make them!

Yan Li had used this tactic of bluffing before—yet he wasn’t entirely deceiving Gao Qunshu.

Some embellishment was inevitable, but overall, it was half-truth, half-fiction—after all, Gao Qunshu wasn’t a fool; he might verify a few things.

So most of Yan Li’s claims had some basis in fact!

The “good seniors” were real: Li Peng, producer of “Snow Goddess Dragon”; Cheng Lidong, producer of “The Treasure Basin”; Meng Ji, director of “Spring Sunshine, Pig Eight.”

No matter which one Gao Qunshu asked about, they all claimed to have a good relationship with Yan Li.

His TV station contacts weren’t fake either—he’d been cultivating them these past days.

Even if most were just drinking buddies, they couldn’t get real work done, but they could still speak well of him when needed.

As for whether anyone could verify any projects or side jobs he’d done with them—

That was exactly right. Yan Li was a young man—why should his connections be obvious? Some things are understood, not spoken.

Truth and falsehood, real and illusory!

Unless Gao Qunshu had his own intelligence network, after checking everything, he’d fully believe Yan Li’s story.

This was the most critical part of Yan Li’s plan.

His story had flaws—but Gao Qunshu was desperate. With even a fraction of hope, he’d ignore every inconsistency, clutching Yan Li like a lifeline, refusing to let go.

The best trick isn’t flawless design—it’s exploiting human weakness.

Hmph!

Yan Li realized he’d just invented a new career through his system—if he went into fraud, he could talk Gao into handing over Liu Weiwei too.

In truth, what Yan Li was doing now was still deception—or rather, getting something for nothing.

But others scam and run. Yan Li wanted profit, but he had no intention of screwing over Gao.

He preferred to call it mutual benefit, win-win cooperation…

…

After learning Yan Li’s story, Liu Weiwei wanted to reveal everything—but Gao Qunshu quietly stopped her.

As Yan Li had predicted, Gao Qunshu, a seasoned veteran, was wary—he wouldn’t believe a word without verification. He planned to investigate first.

Yan Li wasn’t in a hurry. He waited patiently.

Sure enough, less than three days later, Gao Qunshu invited him to dinner and brought up “Conquest” distribution.

“Director Gao, no one else knows, but I know the quality of our drama—it’s truly excellent.”

Yan Li heaped praise on Gao Qunshu, making the old man’s eyes nearly tear up.

For weeks, he’d been battered—distribution stalled, TV stations rejected him, so-called “friends” turned into armchair critics, tearing apart “Conquest.”

Worse, Gao Qunshu even heard whispers calling him a documentary director unfit for TV dramas, saying this loss would finally teach him his place.

His mood, as can be imagined, was dire.

So Yan Li’s affirmation now felt like rain after a drought. For that alone, Gao Qunshu would gladly cooperate—even if it meant losing more.

But Yan Li had no intention of letting Gao lose money. His terms were generous.

Gao Qunshu would transfer all rights to “Conquest” to Yan Li’s Yi’an Film & Television for 4.5 million.

The price stunned Gao Qunshu.

He’d expected to sell for 3.8 to 4 million. Even 3.6 to 3.8 million would’ve been acceptable, just to thank Yan Li for understanding him.

Yan Li offered 4.5 million—enough to cover his costs and net him 300,000 profit.

But Gao Qunshu didn’t celebrate long. Yan Li quickly added conditions.

The 4.5 million would be paid in installments: only 500,000 as a deposit, the rest to be settled within two years.

“This…”

Gao Qunshu was uneasy. Installments were normal in the industry—he’d never expect full payment from anyone else either.

But he hadn’t expected Yan Li to offer so little upfront, and stretch it so long.

He still had debts to pay and a house to redeem!

“Director Gao, you know I’m just starting out. My funds are limited—I can’t pay more now. But I guarantee: as soon as the project moves forward, I’ll pay you quickly. If you’re in trouble, say so—we’ll work it out together.”

Yan Li had thoroughly researched Gao Qunshu’s situation. He’d asked high, left room to bargain—the initial terms were designed to leave space for negotiation.

The hope of breaking even, the personal validation, Yan Li’s reasonable tone—all held Gao Qunshu in place, and now they began negotiating back and forth.

After prolonged back-and-forth, Yan Li made several “concessions.”

The deposit remained 500,000, but the total rose to 5 million, and the second payment—no less than 1 million—must be made within six months.

Most importantly: if the 5 million wasn’t fully paid within two years, the rights to “Conquest” would be jointly held by Yan Li and Gao Qunshu.

Liu Weiwei read the final terms and glared at Gao Qunshu, indignant on Yan Li’s behalf.

“He does all the work, you sit back collecting money, and the risk’s all his? That’s not fair.”

Yan Li grinned sheepishly: “It’s fine, Sister Wei. Business always carries risk. Director Gao’s already been kind to me. I believe this drama will make money—maybe you’ll envy me someday.”

“Envy you for what? You deserve every cent.”

Liu Weiwei thought Yan Li was too honest. Gao Qunshu added: “Contract’s signed. Profit or loss—it’s fate. We both accept it.”

“Exactly.”

Yan Li raised his thumb high: “Director Gao, you’re sharp.”

He’d spoken plainly, taken the loss himself, and silenced any future complaints—should “Conquest” become a huge hit, there’d be no pointless disputes…

(End of Chapter)