Let us bet on the ratings!

"Brother, just tell me, how much can you offer?" Wu Xiang maintained a clear head, cutting straight to the chase without any unnecessary hesitation.

"Hehehe..." Old Shi chuckled at the question. "Well, my brother, you see, things aren't easy at the station either. We have a lot of heavy industries in our region, and none of those bastards buy advertisements. Plus, we took heavy losses over the past few years, so the station is genuinely struggling. But your big brother won't treat you unfairly. How about this: three million for the exclusive premiere rights. What do you think?"

"What kind of channel's premiere rights go for three million?" It sounded simple, but Wu Xiang's question was extremely professional because different channels had vastly different values. If it were a local regional channel, three million at this time would be a pretty good price. But if it were a satellite channel, that price was absolute nonsense!

Yes, it was complete nonsense. Wu Xiang wouldn't dare boast about much else, but given his current reputation, the moment he put a production on the market, television stations would practically break their doors down fighting over it!

He wanted to buy the satellite television premiere rights for three million? Did he take Wu Xiang for a child?

"Of course I'm talking about our satellite television channel!" Old Shi gave his answer, effectively treating Wu Xiang like a child after all.

"..." Wu Xiang's face went completely blank. He said nothing, acting almost like a drunkard ready to pass out and go to sleep.

"Well? What's this, brother? Do you think it's no good?" There was a hint of drunkenness in those words, but also a touch of genuine intent.

"Brother, your proposal lacks any appeal!" Wu Xiang finally spoke. "Didn't you want to help Liaoning Television turn a profit? Didn't you look at how well Mango TV is developing? Let me tell you, if this TV series of mine goes on your satellite channel, Liaoning Television will undoubtedly become a massive hit!"

"Huh?" Old Shi wasn't actually drunk at all, but hearing that, he wondered if Wu Xiang really had drunk too much.

Who dared to brag like that in this day and age?

That older show, *My Fair Princess*, honestly, no one really knew how it managed to become such a massive sensation. But nowadays, the ratings for any single television series simply couldn't reach that level. There were too many competitors; the domestic television market was booming, with tens of thousands of series produced every year, many of which never even made it to broadcast.

Such fierce competition meant it was simply impossible for a single show to make a television station popular. The success of Mango TV could not be replicated.

However, at that moment, Wu Xiang declared, "I have confidence in my TV series. I know you might not see it that way, brother. How about this—let's make a bet. I'll propose a different arrangement, and you tell me if it works."

"Speak!" Old Shi was straightforward.

"I don't want much. For the satellite premiere rights, I want ten million!" Before Wu Xiang could finish, Old Shi interrupted him.

"You call that not much? Oh mother!" Old Shi instantly transformed from a cultured intellectual into a blunt northerner.

"Brother! Let me finish." Wu Xiang showed no signs of drunkenness whatsoever at this point. "We'll bet on the ratings. If the national satellite broadcast ratings for *Sword Breaking Out* fail to exceed ten percent, you only give me one million, which will prove I lost. But if the ratings exceed ten percent, I want ten million! What do you think?"

Ten percent—such ratings were unimaginable in later eras, but they still happened in 2002. Even so, it wasn't something you could just claim casually; it required a show to be sensationally, blazing hot to achieve.

"Are you really that confident?" By this point, Old Shi looked just as sober as if he hadn't drunk a drop.

"Do we have a bet or not?!" Wu Xiang was extremely direct, having no desire to beat around the bush anymore.

"This..." Truth be told, Old Shi's mind was racing. For a regional station like Liaoning Television, even with a satellite channel, very few shows ever hit ten percent ratings—those kinds of numbers usually belonged exclusively to CCTV.

Yet there was a problem: they weren't a private television station where a single person's word was law. Besides, how could they even place such a bet?

Our country banned gambling, after all. For a state-owned television station to enter a wager with an individual was something that simply couldn't be justified.

Fortunately, Wu Xiang was clever. He immediately offered an alternative solution: Liaoning Television would still pay ten million to purchase the broadcast rights, with a single clause added. If the national ratings failed to reach ten percent, Studio 307 would grant nine rounds of secondary broadcast rights as compensation.

In other words, the business deal remained valued at ten million, but those nine sets of secondary broadcast rights would allow Liaoning Television to sell them off to other networks. Securing around one million per secondary broadcast round shouldn't be a problem, especially given that this was a major production by Wu Xiang.

However, the catch was that the moment they agreed to this conditional agreement, they had to pay Wu Xiang the ten million upfront!

Couldn't Old Shi see through that? Of course he could, but it was still a very sound proposal.

If the ratings exceeded ten percent, Liaoning Television profited. Even if they failed to reach ten percent, having nine rounds of secondary broadcast rights meant they still profited. No matter how you looked at it, it was a favorable arrangement for them, and furthermore, the drama was directed by the prominent Wu Xiang, giving it a massive inherent advantage.

Therefore, let's do it!

There was a reason Old Shi was considered a capable man—he possessed the decisive judgment to make such a call. The only remaining issue was that Old Shi couldn't make the final decision alone; he had to return and discuss it with the station leadership.

Thus, their meal concluded right there. The Maotai liquor and chrysanthemum-infused dishes had all honorably fulfilled their missions...

Actually, helping out his hometown television station wasn't a big deal, but as a time-traveler, Wu Xiang harbored a certain psychological resistance toward someone who would later be brought down for severe disciplinary violations. To be honest, anyone would feel that way, and besides, he couldn't afford to take a loss himself. After all, *Sword Breaking Out* was a meticulously crafted production; selling it cheap would be far too wasteful.

Wu Xiang didn't have to wait long. Three days later, Liaoning Television gave their response: they were ready to sign the contract.

Wu Xiang was delighted. His television series hadn't even finished post-production yet, and the production costs had already been entirely recovered—how wonderful was that? Making television series really was a quick way to earn money!

Back in 2002, ten million for a television premiere wasn't unheard of. Even bearded director Zhang Jizhong had pulled it off several times. Therefore, the price Wu Xiang offered was truly a fair one, perfectly honoring his hometown roots.

That being said, once this contract was signed, Wu Xiang was effectively guaranteed a profit. He already had the product-placement revenue from the Fenjiu distillery, and the real goldmine would be the rebroadcast rights. Let's not forget the record held by *Sword Breaking Out* for the highest number of domestic rebroadcasts—it was essentially a golden mine. Wu Xiang had just swung the first shovel. Even if his version of *Sword Breaking Out* failed to surpass ten percent nationally, he was still guaranteed to turn a handsome profit.

All of this, however, was built upon Wu Xiang's absolute confidence in his own production. What he needed to do right now was finish the post-production work on the series, and additionally...

It seemed television dramas were truly lucrative—exceptionally profitable!

Shouldn't he strengthen his position in this area? Studio 307 ought to establish a dedicated television production team.

Who should lead such a team?

Upon returning to Beijing, Wu Xiang immediately sought out Guan Hu.

That's right, it was him—director Guan Hu, with whom he had previously collaborated. This guy was quite cocky now; his previous film *Goin' to Town* had unexpectedly achieved massive success in Europe. Not only did it rake in a tidy sum of money, but his personal stock had risen accordingly.

Right now, this fellow was practically the domestic director with the highest overseas box office earnings. One must never underestimate such achievements, as they directly tied into investment profitability. Consequently, Guan Hu was now in a position to pick and choose his scripts.

"I say, you're living quite comfortably, aren't you?" As soon as he met Guan Hu, Wu Xiang teased him.

"Hehe, naturally. Several companies are coming to me right now, asking me to direct their films. Your senior brother here is living the good life." Guan Hu really was acting quite arrogant.

"Care to come work together?" Wu Xiang stated his purpose directly. He had actually entertained this thought before, but Guan Hu was a naturally free and unrestrained person and hadn't agreed back then.

"Didn't I say? I've got it pretty good right now. Look at me—I draw a regular salary, and whenever I have free time, I can go out and pick up side gigs. Why on earth would I want to join some Studio 307 of yours?" Guan Hu's logic made sense; he was still under Han Sanping's wing, while other companies seeking him out allowed him to make extra money on the side. In short, he had both security and high earnings.

"Look at your lack of ambition!" Wu Xiang chided his senior brother.

"You don't need to try to provoke me; it won't work!" Guan Hu had long since seen through those tactics.

Yet Wu Xiang ignored him completely, continuing relentlessly, "Have you never thought about setting up your own studio and going solo? I can offer you assistance, and if you lack funds, I can provide the capital. We can become partners—you direct the films, I provide the money, and then we'll make big money together, stacks and stacks of cash..."

"Stop talking... it's useless... don't tempt me..."

Guan Hu kept trying to interrupt, but Wu Xiang wouldn't stop, making the two of them sound like they were talking to themselves.

"Hey!" Guan Hu shouted loudly, genuinely angered. What was Wu Xiang playing at? "What do you mean by this? Trying to disgust me?"

"I don't mean anything else. I'm just offering you a chance to make big money."

"I've got plenty of chances to make money right now."

"Then why haven't you filmed anything?"

"Haven't encountered a good script!"

"Then why won't you cooperate with me? I've got scripts in abundance!"

"You have scripts? You wrote them yourself?" Guan Hu grew interested because good scripts were notoriously difficult to come by, and Wu Xiang clearly excelled in that area. Ever since his debut, Wu Xiang had been renowned for his brilliant writing, even though his primary identity was that of a young director.

"I didn't write them myself, but I can tell you this—I have scripts to spare, and you'll never have to worry about finding material!" Wu Xiang was overflowing with confidence. Just what gave this guy such unwavering self-assurance?

"Are you just bragging?" Guan Hu asked with lingering doubt.

Wu Xiang smiled faintly and dropped a hint: "Senior brother, if you have time, go online and check out a website called 'Qidian'. Search for it, and you'll see. Let me tell you right now, I'm an investor in that website!"

"A website?" Guan Hu still didn't understand.

"Just go take a look, and you'll understand." With that, Wu Xiang left him with those words.