Chapter 158 Playing a Long Game

Wu Xiang relied on the Qidian website, affectionately known as Dianniang, to rope Guan Hu into his venture.

After receiving two million from Wu Xiang without a moment's hesitation, Yu Baimei, Ning Caishen, and Mi Ke went straight to work on Qidian. They knew that if they pulled off what Wu Xiang proposed, they would become major shareholders, and building a website like this seemed entirely feasible.

Why were they so confident? It was too simple—they couldn't forget who Wu Xiang was at the moment.

"China's top internet novelist, Wu Xiang, alongside renowned Chinese internet writers Yu Baimei, Mi Ke, and Ning Caishen, joining forces with prominent web authors Jian Jianfeng, Jiangnan of the Sword, Dark Heart, Dark Left Hand, and others, recently launched an organization named the Chinese Fantasy Association. A few days ago, this association established a website called Qidian, specifically built for the online literary market. The website proclaims that anyone can create works on the platform, and anyone can browse and read..."

This piece of news quickly spread across all major media outlets.

On one hand, it was due to Wu Xiang's current fame; on the other hand, Wu Xiang was truly a pioneer of internet literature. Whether a reading website could succeed was directly related to the authors it could attract—you needed books to draw readers, and you needed a multitude of books to spark a craze. Brandishing Wu Xiang's name was undoubtedly a massive draw for the vast pool of writers.

The most prominent feature of this news, however, appeared on Tencent's homepage because when Wu Xiang invested in Qidian, Ma Huateng also seized the opportunity to get a foot in the door.

Ma Huateng still didn't have much money, but by now he had mastered a particular trick: making a wolf out of an empty hand, or pulling off a venture with zero capital.

This fellow proposed tying his platform directly to Qidian, offering traffic and free advertising.

Wu Xiang did the math and figured, *Fine, you kid is going to covet Dianniang like crazy in the future anyway, resorting to high-salary headhunting tactics and all sorts of fancy tricks that will drive Dianniang to absolute ecstasy.*

Wu Xiang was naturally well-aware of this piece of history. He had spent time mingling among internet writers; though he wasn't famous, he knew the ropes and kept an eye on related news. What troubled him most was the later news of Master Big Brother becoming a Buddhist monk, which left anyone who read it sighing with emotion.

Wu Xiang simply went with the flow. Since Ma Huateng was so optimistic about it, he decided to leave all the technical aspects entirely in Tencent's hands.

In this way, Wu Xiang's stake in Dianniang settled at 30%. He didn't have to manage anything; he just sat back and counted money. Wasn't that wonderful?

Actually, what Wu Xiang truly valued about Dianniang wasn't just the money, but the resources it would bring him—namely, scripts!

Many film scripts were originally novels, and Wu Xiang now essentially possessed the most terrifying inventory of future domestic fiction. With this foundation, would he ever have to worry about lacking source material for movies and television dramas?

Although many of them were transmigration stories, plenty were not—such as numerous military-themed works, fantasy, immortal cultivation, wuxia, and titles like *Candle in the Tomb* and *The Grave Robbers' Chronicles*... There was nothing impossible about taking these out and adapting them!

Of course, for now, figures like 'Tianxia Bachang' hadn't arrived yet, but if he prepared the phoenix tree first, would those phoenixes fail to come?

Under Tencent's technical support, the current version of Qidian was merely a beta, with the official version slated for release in March 2002—several months earlier than in history. This little butterfly, Wu Xiang, had finally stirred up a tiny wave in the historical timeline.

Watching a grand plan progress steadily felt truly exhilarating for Wu Xiang. The future was bright, the future was full of promise...

"Can this thing actually work?" Guan Hu had checked out the Qidian website, but he still held a deeply skeptical attitude.

***

"Don't you trust me?" Wu Xiang pulled out his own prestige, hoping to convince Guan Hu.

"This has nothing to do with trusting you or not. A website like this where anyone can post a book—what on earth is written in those pages? What kind of quality could it possibly have?" Guan Hu had hit on a crucial problem. Because, in reality, literature or scripts—no matter how vulgar they might be, even if they reached the level of folksy comedy masters like Zhao Benshan—were still art. At the very worst, they were a form of performance art, a craft with a high barrier to entry. It wasn't something just anyone could do.

Yet the internet was doing the exact opposite, smashing lofty things down onto the floor where anyone could play with them. Wu Xiang even knew that later on, many people survived simply by writing shallow, easy-to-understand content, winning purely through sheer volume.

Dianniang's Central Plains Five Whites—that reputation was deafening!

Wu Xiang didn't want to comment on the right or wrong of this phenomenon. The fact that they could succeed proved there was a market demand. As the saying goes, existence is perfection; there was logic to it.

However, preaching these grand principles to Guan Hu right now was useless. Persuading him was the goal.

"Brother Guan, how about this: I have a script right here, why don't you try directing it? This script comes from the internet. I'll invest, and you direct. If this show hits and makes money, we split the profits down the middle. If it bombs, I'll take the loss entirely on my own." Wu Xiang dangled yet another massive pie.

"How can that be? No, no. Let's do this instead: I'll invest a little money too, and then we split it fifty-fifty. I've got a million in liquid cash on hand, that should cover the investment, right?" Guan Hu was hardly the type to suffer a loss, and he said this without a shred of embarrassment.

Investing one million to shoot a television drama and demanding a 50% stake—that was utter nonsense. How many TV show investments were still that small nowadays?

Yet Wu Xiang agreed, and he agreed with a smile. "Alright, it's a deal then, Brother Guan. The script is called *Netizen Diary*. I plan to turn it into a sitcom. Take it back and have a look. I can also have the original author follow the crew so you two can hash things out together."

"..." Guan Hu's expression at that moment couldn't have been more colorful.

A sitcom naturally didn't require a massive investment, and set design was relatively easy to handle. To put it bluntly, most of the time it was shot in a single room, and camerawork was straightforward. If you were truly dirt poor, you could even use a wedding videographer's camera and it would still work.

Therefore, claiming a 50% cut for a one-million investment—no one in their right mind would believe he was taking a disadvantageous deal, especially not Guan Hu, an industry insider who had already directed television dramas.

"Xiangzi! You're still the most badass!" Guan Hu gave Wu Xiang a thumbs-up on the spot. Whether he was praising him or mocking him, the thumb was up, and the deal was struck.

Wu Xiang wasn't done yet, though. He continued, "I've already cast all the actors, and made all other necessary arrangements. All that's left is for you to direct. For the subsequent work, I'll have Li Xue'er coordinate with you. Rest assured, this show is guaranteed to make money."

"Fine!" How could he say no after all that had been said? And so Guan Hu, currently the domestic director with the highest box office earnings overseas, returned to direct a television series—and a sitcom at that.

How did the script for *Netizen Diary* end up in Wu Xiang's hands?

Actually, earlier when Yu Baimei and his crew came to Wu Xiang, it was precisely for this matter. They hadn't intended to sell the script to Wu Xiang, but rather, someone else had taken a fancy to it.

Who was that? It was a rather famous director and actor: Ying Da.

He was the bespectacled, pot-bellied, chubby, and humorous man whose other notable identity was being Song Dandan's ex-husband.

At the time, Ying Da had taken a liking to this script—or rather, the internet novel, since he discovered it online. At the same time, however, he had noticed people online claiming that the stage play *Cuihua, Serve the Pickled Cabbage!* shared similar plots with *Netizen Diary*. That was why Ying Da brought this issue up to Yu Baimei; he wanted a work with clean copyright credentials. Otherwise, wouldn't lawsuits down the line be a huge headache?

Great minds think alike, so Yu Baimei and the others had approached Wu Xiang. However, the benefits Wu Xiang offered them far outweighed simply selling the script, causing this bunch of fellows to abandon all moral integrity entirely.

Actually, the one who felt most smug was undoubtedly Ning Caishen, because this fellow hadn't even written the piece; his name merely appeared as a character in it due to everyone using each other's pen names for fun. Yet somehow, he still received a handsome payout out of thin air. Where was the justice in that?

As for Wu Xiang seeking out Guan Hu, it was simply because he had set his sights on the television industry—an extremely lucrative trade. Back in this era, television stars didn't command the exorbitant paychecks they would demand in the future.

Wu Xiang had previously moved in this circle, and in fact, he had initially thought about rising to prominence through television dramas. But precisely because he had experienced that world firsthand, he knew its chaotic nature, and that things weren't as simple as one might imagine.

Television dramas seemed cheaper to produce than movies—no celluloid film required—and plots were easier to churn out since the runtime was longer, sparing creators the pressure of cramming conflicts into a tight two-to-three-hour window. However, the industry had countless hidden rules.

You couldn't just shoot a show whenever you pleased; you needed official approval, which required connections with the authorities above. And even if you finished filming, did you think you could just sell it? Did you have the personal connections within television stations?

Wu Xiang knew from his time in the TV circle that out of over 80,000 episodes of domestic television produced annually, only 20,000 to 30,000 actually made it to the screen. In other words, a vast number of series couldn't be sold at all, meaning audiences never got to see them. These unseen dramas weren't necessarily poorly made; many produced by top-tier producers and major stars still failed to air because broadcasting resources were limited, and everyone naturally vied for the absolute best.

Thus, riding to prominence through the film *The Great Flood* had been relatively smooth and quite fortunate for Wu Xiang.

That being said, if he wanted to make television dramas and cash in quickly, was relying solely on Guan Hu and himself enough?

That force was indeed a bit thin. Wu Xiang currently held a small amount of capital and was fully capable of stirring things up further.

In fact, Wu Xiang had also thought of Director Shang Jing. Thinking of him was only natural; Wu Xiang currently had Ning Caishen on his side, and he had previously collaborated with Yan Ni during the production of *My Chief and My Leader* (Note: *Drawing Sword* context adjusted implicitly or kept natural), so it would be stranger if he *didn't* think of Director Shang Jing.

However, Shang Jing couldn't make it right now because he was busy shooting *The Story of the Cooking Squad*. That project had been settled long ago, and it was quite a lengthy shoot.

It was a classic sitcom, but Wu Xiang couldn't wedge his way in because it was a collaboration between CCTV and the Political Department of the Air Force. Did Wu Xiang have the clout to force his way into that?

Still, Shang Jing had promised that once he wrapped up his current project, they could sit down and have a good chat.

***

**Author's Note:**

Thank you all for your support; the Black Car is truly grateful. But these last few chapters have genuinely been about laying out the groundwork. Please give the Black Car a little time. All I dare say is that these current plots are definitely not written blindly. Suffering from the inability to drop spoilers, I can only hope for your understanding. Give the Black Car some time, thank you, thank you very much! Additionally, to get through this phase quickly, the Black Car will also release three chapters tomorrow. I hope everyone will continue to support me. Thank you all!