Chapter 48: Advantage of Proximity

Although Bai Renzong had said a great deal to his parents, what ultimately persuaded them was, in the end, his income. Of course, his parents might not have insisted on him earning tens of thousands a month from his videos in order to let him continue as a content creator; a few thousand would have sufficed for their approval. Still, the higher his income, the more time he could dedicate to this pursuit.

Consequently, Bai Renzong no longer had to make his videos in secret, hiding them from his parents—a fact that brought him immense relief. After all, the most terrifying thing isn’t living under the shadow of a ticking time bomb, but rather one whose explosion is entirely unpredictable.

Given the outcome, Bai Renzong felt a measure of gratitude toward Yu Ruili, for her involvement meant he no longer had to operate behind his parents’ backs.

After hanging up with his parents, Bai Renzong let out a long sigh of relief.

“My parents were just as opposed when I said I wanted to enter the entertainment industry back then,” Han Jiayi said with a smile from beside him.

“So now you realize your parents were right?” Bai Renzong asked curiously.

“What I mean is that you have to stick to your beliefs!” Han Jiayi huffed, giving him a playful punch. “Even if I didn’t succeed, at least I—well, you know… at least…” She faltered, her mind going blank at the crucial moment, and began to stammer.

Bai Renzong chuckled, casting a sidelong glance at her, enjoying her awkwardly adorable demeanor.

Then he noticed the batter in Han Jiayi’s hands. “What are you making?”

“I’m working on a new dessert recipe,” Han Jiayi explained. “I want to create something with the texture of a cloud.”

“No one’s ever eaten a cloud—how do you know what it should taste like?” Bai Renzong rolled his eyes.

“You’re so annoying!” Han Jiayi gritted her teeth, stomping on his foot with her small one. “Shouldn’t you be encouraging me right now, instead of always making fun of me?”

“But…” Bai Renzong replied innocently, then broke into a smile. “Good luck.”

With cheeks puffed in mock annoyance, Han Jiayi shot him a glare, then carried her bowl of batter back to the kitchen. Bai Renzong returned to his room to finish the remaining script for the video he planned to shoot that afternoon, hoping to make the filming process smoother.

As noon approached, Wang Bei returned carrying a bag, drenched in sweat from exertion.

“Where have you been?” Bai Renzong asked in confusion. “I haven’t seen you all morning.”

“I went to do a follow-up, of course!” Wang Bei retorted defensively. “I checked out Wang’s Pancake Rolls!”

“And?” Han Jiayi poked her head out of the kitchen curiously.

“There were so many people—the line stretched from the alley all the way to the street, visible from a great distance,” Wang Bei said with a mysterious air. “The owner’s started ordering three times as much stock every day, but it still sells out by morning.”

She lifted the bag in her hand. “The owner insisted on giving me this, told me to thank you for the publicity.”

“He was so reluctant when we gave him suggestions,” Han Jiayi said, grabbing a roll for herself. “But in the end, he adopted every one of Old Bai’s ideas without hesitation.”

“Old Bai, Sis, don’t you think it’s time we started accepting some sponsorships?” Wang Bei said excitedly. “Last night I saw a really good business proposal: they’re offering fifty thousand as an appearance fee, just to have us try their food and give our honest opinions.”

“Fifty thousand… is that a lot?” Bai Renzong scratched his head, uncertain. He truly had no experience with these things; after all, no creator ever reveals to their audience how much they’re paid for sponsored content—a kind of unspoken rule.

“It’s quite a lot,” Wang Bei replied. “You don’t have that many followers yet—on D-Station, sponsorship rates are based on the number of active fans and video views. For top creators with millions of followers, like Jing** or Ao**, the fee is usually between two hundred and five hundred thousand.”

She paused, then explained, “That’s a reference range, not a fixed number. Even those with millions of followers might get only a few hundred thousand. You’ve only got a little over a hundred thousand, so fifty thousand is already very good. Most creators at your level would get just a few thousand per sponsorship. I think it’s because your active fan ratio is high—your fanbase may be small, but your viewership is strong.”

“Then let’s accept it!” Bai Renzong let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, he’d established a studio; otherwise, he’d have no idea what was reasonable and would waste endless time researching instead of making videos.

“Lanwa House?!” Han Jiayi glanced at the restaurant’s name in the proposal and was instantly stunned. “That’s a two-star Michelin place! They’re super famous around here—do they really need you for advertising? I heard they’re aiming for a third star this year…”

At that, Han Jiayi suddenly realized: this restaurant wanted to use Bai Renzong’s legendary palate to improve their menu…

A surge of mixed feelings welled up in her chest.

She herself had considered enlisting Bai Renzong’s help to develop her own restaurant, but in the end, she hadn’t done so. On one hand, it felt like she’d be taking advantage of him, which troubled her conscience. On the other, it meant admitting defeat—accepting that she needed his help with her cuisine.

Neither of these was something she could accept, so she’d resolved to rely on her own abilities to win that second, even third Michelin star.

But seeing their competitors openly and shamelessly pay to use Bai Renzong’s godly palate to refine their dishes, she couldn’t help feeling anxious, as if she were falling behind…

And at that moment, Bai Renzong had to add his own commentary.

“See how smart they are?” Bai Renzong tapped Han Jiayi’s forehead lightly. “You should do the same.”

“I just didn’t want to use you…” Han Jiayi mumbled, rubbing her forehead. This guy, always hitting where it hurts.

“What’s wrong with that?” Bai Renzong frowned. “You’re a chef; striving for better cuisine is your calling. Besides, we’re partners—the better you are, the more material I have.”

“Exactly, Sis!” Wang Bei chimed in. “The closer you are to the source, the sooner you benefit. Old Bai has such an amazing palate, and you’re not seizing the opportunity? Letting others profit instead? Showing mercy to competitors is cruelty to yourself!”

“What are you saying? That sounds a bit strange…” Han Jiayi muttered, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, though inwardly she felt somewhat relieved. “Well, then I’ll take advantage of you in the future.”

“I’ll say this now,” Bai Renzong warned, “don’t blame me for being honest when the time comes.”

“You… You can’t be too harsh…” Han Jiayi wilted, looking at him pitifully.

“If I’m not strict, how will you get that second star quickly?” Bai Renzong laughed, reaching out his hand. “Let’s give it our all together.”

“Hehe.” Han Jiayi, acting shy as a young girl, placed her hand atop his.

Wang Bei, always the straightforward one, slapped her hand down on theirs. “Let’s do it! First, let’s nail this sponsorship!”

(Thanks to Wang the Clown A, Jing|Shang, and Erya for the two monthly tickets, and to Ghs and Qishui Xiaoran for the monthly tickets.)