Chapter 93

The next morning

Yan Li opened his eyes to see Qin Lan leaning over beside him, watching him—surprised.

"You're up so early today?"

"You're the one who slept in—it's already past nine."

Yan Li glanced at the wall clock in the bedroom; it was true, and he couldn't help but sigh.

"Probably exhausted from last night."

Qin Lan remembered what happened yesterday, her cheeks flushing red as she scolded, "Nonsense—you just couldn't get out and got lazy."

"True."

Yan Li nodded; normally he rose early to exercise, but now he couldn't leave the apartment or go downstairs, so he had no reason to wake up early.

Still, he needed to move—morning exercise was a good habit.

Watching Yan Li start fidgeting again, Qin Lan sighed helplessly: "Don't you have anything else on your mind?"

"Stuck inside, no work today—what else should I think about?"

…

After finishing exercise and lingering a while longer, they got up just as lunchtime approached.

Qin Lan couldn't cook, and couldn't go out to buy food, so unless Yan Li ate instant noodles every day, he had to cook himself.

But he actually enjoyed it a little.

Mostly because Qin Lan gave him such high emotional value—each time she gazed at him with adoring, happy eyes, raved about how delicious it was, and took care of all the cleanup, including washing dishes, so Yan Li no longer found cooking a bother.

"See if anything's missing?"

After eating, Qin Lan scribbled on a piece of paper, then handed it to Yan Li, asking if he had anything to add.

Yan Li had prepared ahead and stockpiled some items, but hadn't expected to be locked down—so he still fell short in places.

But the neighborhood lockdown didn't mean they were left to starve; each day they could collect vegetables and daily necessities, and for special needs, they could pay staff to buy things for them.

Yan Li scanned Qin Lan's list—it was mostly fine, but one item was missing; he took the pen and added it.

Qin Lan leaned over to peek, stammering: "Don't we already have that at home?"

When this person moved in, he'd had ulterior motives and pre-stocked plenty of things; Qin Lan had secretly seen them—there were quite a few.

"Who knows when we'll be released? What we have at home might not be enough—better safe than sorry."

Saying this, Yan Li smirked: "By the way, should we add a few extra sets of sheets? Saves you washing…"

Before he finished, Qin Lan clamped her hand over his mouth, furious and flustered: "Don't you dare mention that."

Yan Li nodded, put down the pen; Qin Lan gave him a warning glance before releasing his mouth.

The moment he was free, he struck back, humming the tune of last year's new song, "Blue Lotus."

"Water orchid, hua la la la la la la~"

After singing, he ignored Qin Lan's furious flailing, slipped into the bedroom, locked the door—both to escape her chase and to steal a moment to chat with Dong Xuan.

Keeping another phone hidden was hard, but hiding the SIM card was easy; though receiving calls was inconvenient, making calls wouldn't expose him.

Yan Li had already thought up his explanation—since Dong Xuan couldn't leave campus, he'd just tell the truth.

We're locked down!

Because the rules are strict and forbid much contact with the outside world, he could only call every two days to report safety and so on.

That was true—but they hadn't banned phone calls; they'd just warned against spreading rumors to avoid causing panic outside.

Dong Xuan grew very worried for Yan Li; he spent a long time explaining and soothing her before finally calming her down.

Then Yan Li sent a text to Huang Shengyi, making up a flimsy excuse to ask her not to call—only text, and he'd reply when he saw it.

Next, he swapped the SIM card back in and dialed Liang Guanhua's number.

"Hello, Teacher Liang… Look, do you have Qian Yanqiu's contact info? No no no—not for filming—I have other business with him…"

Ever since he learned Liang Guanhua's "Wu Chaomi Case" was actually "Detective Di Renjie," he'd been fixated on the drama.

"Detective Di Renjie" had cast Liang Guanhua as the older Di Renjie—Yan Li couldn't play that role, nor could he steal Liang Guanhua's part.

The character similar to Zhan Zhao was already promised by Qian Yanqiu to his old classmate and close friend—Yan Li couldn't get that either.

But Yan Li wasn't that eager to act in the drama; he was more interested in the project itself.

According to monthly intelligence reports, the drama's budget was low—under ten million yuan.

Yet its performance was outstanding: it did exceptionally well on CCTV, later aired on multiple satellite channels, and ranked among the top for reruns among that year's new dramas.

After reaping profits from "Conquest," Yan Li favored low-budget, high-return dramas.

But unlike "Conquest," "Detective Di Renjie" wasn't some floating piece—it was clearly marked in the intel as a CCTV production.

Backed by that giant tree, he couldn't just waltz in and grab a share.

Still, Yan Li kept a good attitude: if there's a date, hit it three times with a stick—best case, he joins the investment; if not, landing the distribution rights would do.

Yes, distribution rights could also make money.

Here's the thing: normal TV drama distribution wasn't like how Yan Li had distributed "Conquest"—buying the rights first, then selling to TV stations.

That approach carried too much risk.

It meant guaranteeing the producer's losses—if the drama didn't sell or lost money, you'd be stuck with it.

So unless you were extremely confident in a drama's profitability, most distribution companies avoided this method.

In this era, most distribution companies acted more like film and television intermediaries.

Major studios and top-tier production teams didn't need to worry—they had their own distribution channels, and TV stations, distributors, and advertisers often came begging for collaboration.

But the vast majority of mid- and small-sized studios, or small crews formed by producers or directors scrambling for investment, had no independent distribution capability.

Go to TV stations? They wouldn't even look at you; even if you sold it, you'd rarely get a good price.

That's when distribution companies stepped in.

These distribution companies often have their own television network connections and channels, allowing them to leverage relationships to help sell dramas and profit from them.

The exact profit depends on the method used.

For example, some rely on guaranteed minimums, similar to the cooperation model between Yan Li and Gao Qunshu.

However, the copyright remains with the production side; the distributor pays nothing, but agrees with the producer on a guaranteed minimum price.

For instance, five million: if the drama fails to sell for five million within a certain time, the distributor charges only a nominal fee or nothing at all, but if it exceeds five million, the first five million goes to the producer, and anything above goes to the distributor.

When Yan Li distributed "Conquest," he originally intended to play it this way.

But Old Gao was eager to repay his debts and feared the drama would flop and become completely unsellable, so he only wanted to transfer the copyright and avoid the risk of poor distribution.

Thus, with his system's advantage and knowledge of the future, Yan Li chose to take a big gamble.

Guaranteed minimums still carry relatively high risk, so distributors generally prefer profit-sharing.

No matter how much it sells, the distributor takes a fixed share, usually 10% to 20%, though many exceptions exist depending on the project.

In this model, whether they lose or profit, the risk falls entirely on the producer; the distributor takes only a small cut, earning more with more effort, achieving mutual benefit.

Yan Li, having distributed "Conquest," had already built up some connections and gained a bit of reputation in the industry.

Coupled with his intelligence system as a major advantage, he was exceptionally well-suited for distribution.

At a 15% share, if a drama sells for twenty million, he could earn three million; with a few projects a year, he could easily make ten million annually.

And nearly all of it was pure profit—public relations expenses would go through official accounts; the only costs were maintaining daily relationships.

Still, Yan Li felt the earnings were too low; drinking broth was never as satisfying as eating meat.

Moreover, he was too constrained, merely shuttling between television stations and producers, passively reacting to others.

There was also a certain risk: what if a television station official got caught up in scandal and started naming names? This wasn't something a simple industry unwritten rule could wash clean—even if Yan Li was extremely careful, with no evidence found, just being tainted by association was painful enough.

Therefore, Yan Li preferred film and television investment/production combined with distribution—earning more and securing long-term, stable growth.

Of course, now was the startup phase, with no suitable investment projects available; taking on distribution work to earn some small profits, accumulating connections and industry prestige, was still a viable option.

Yan Li planned not only to contact "Detective Di Renjie."

He also wanted to try his luck with "The Treasure Basin," "Fortune Star Zhu Bajie," and "Snow Goddess Dragon," projects he had previously engaged with and understood relatively well.

Especially "Snow Goddess Dragon"—this drama had been verified monthly by his intelligence system as a hit.

Moreover, the production team itself had low costs and limited connections, making the success rate and returns highly promising.

As for the distribution rights of "Emperor Wu of Han," Yan Li never even considered it.

Projects of this scale had already been snapped up by television stations, and the producer itself was China Film Group—a giant in the industry with far superior channels than Yan Li's.

…

Liang Guanhua readily gave Qian Yanqiu's contact information; Yan Li immediately called the man.

Qian Yanqiu was quite interested when he heard Yan Li wanted to invest.

As a director, he naturally hoped for as much filming funding as possible, but this decision wasn't his to make—he could only help make introductions and speak with the CCTV officials.

But given the sensitive timing, it was hard to arrange a meeting, so they'd first assess the situation; if that failed, they'd talk by phone.

Having made contact and learned of the opportunity, Yan Li was no longer in a hurry.

There were plenty of profitable projects; with money, he could invest in any project; with ability, he could manage any project—he didn't need to beg for cooperation.

At the same time, Yan Li needed time to use his system to gather intelligence and learn more information.

With his intelligence system, his greatest advantage was knowing both himself and his opponent, ensuring victory in every battle.

He put away his phone, guessing the water… no, Qin Lan had calmed down.

Yan Li opened the door and stepped out; sure enough, Qin Lan was washing the bedsheet in the bathroom. She rolled her eyes at him, splashed water to shoo him away, but no longer acted as wildly as before.

Seeing Qin Lan playing with water, Yan Li wanted to tease her a bit more, but feared she might truly lose her temper.

After all, their relationship had just broken through; Miss's pride was still thin—some things were too awkward to face directly. Better not provoke her; time would soften things later.

(End of Chapter)