Perfect Divorce [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 38

Yuan Xingzhou’s “cultivation” (experience) was insufficient; he was nearly killed in one move by the other party’s “counter-attack technique.” Consequently, he showed no intention of resisting that afternoon and headed out with Ye Huai in tow.

The two first went to President Deng’s company to discuss the matter of releasing a record.

“Yunhai is my brother,” Deng Bass said. On the top floor of Bass Records, Deng Bass sported a head full of dreadlocks, wore a flamboyant outfit, and hung a thick gold chain around his neck. He looked very “real,” yet his voice was unexpectedly gentle and approachable. “If he says you’re good, then you definitely are.”

“Not at all, President Deng, you flatter me,” Yuan Xingzhou said with trepidation. “I haven’t practiced for several years, and my voice isn’t quite up to par yet. I still need to train more…”

Deng Bass chuckled. “No need to be so modest. I trust Yunhai’s eye. I just don’t know what your intentions are?”

Yuan Xingzhou was stunned. He hadn’t expected the CEO to be so blunt, but on second thought, a CEO is busy and their time for seeing guests is limited. They mostly likely get straight to the point to keep efficiency high.

Before coming, Yuan Xingzhou had thought it through. Although he could sing, he was a far cry from those who graduated from professional academies. He hadn’t practiced in years; if he bought songs to release an album and ended up with “KTV-level” vocals despite the massive expense, it might not turn a profit.

If the first attempt didn’t make money, it was uncertain whether he could release another. Thinking this way, it was better to cherish this opportunity and release his own original compositions. Even if his career ended right after it began, he’d at least have something to remember it by.

It was just that lyrical pop was somewhat out of fashion now; he feared the other party wouldn’t agree.

Now that Deng Bass had asked, he planned to go straight to the theme and give him the demos of two songs he had recorded later.

Ye Huai had been sitting on the sofa beside him, but he suddenly spoke up: “President Deng, you are the professionals in this field. We’d like to hear your suggestions first.”

Yuan Xingzhou was startled and glanced at him.

Deng Bass laughed. “There aren’t many suggestions to give. Our company’s singers all sign ten-year contracts with a 50/50 profit split.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

A 50/50 split—this ratio was quite ruthless.

After all, he already had his own fame and heat; he wasn’t a newcomer who hadn’t debuted yet.

“I’m afraid I can’t use what others have signed as a reference.” Yuan Xingzhou understood Ye Huai’s intent. He suppressed his urge to hand over the demos and changed his tune: “My management contract is with Huayu. Right now, I still don’t know if my manager will agree to me releasing songs.”

Deng Bass raised an eyebrow and glanced at him.

“Haven’t you told the company yet?” Ye Huai cooperated by asking from the side. “I thought you had already mentioned it to Brother Li.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “No. I was afraid President Deng wouldn’t think I’m the right material, so I thought I’d meet him first and see…”

Ye Huai shook his head, expressing disapproval: “Brother Li worries every day about you being scouted. What if he proactively finds you another label?”

Deng Bass: “…”

The two of them playing “good cop, bad cop” couldn’t have been more obvious, yet now that the words were out, he had to pick up the thread.

“If everyone has this intention, someone will talk to your manager,” Deng Bass finally said. “We’ve encountered situations like yours before. We can arrange for us to release the songs and act as the performance agent. Everything is negotiable.”

Ye Huai gave an “oh,” then said: “I thought so. It’s best if things can be tailored to the individual.”

Deng Bass: “…”

Yuan Xingzhou also breathed a sigh of relief.

Fortunately, Ye Huai asked directly. He had been a bit impulsive at the start; if he had come in, spilled all his ideas, and handed over the demos only to haggle over contract terms at the end… it would inevitably make him look too calculating.

Luckily, Ye Huai knew to wait and strike later, forcing President Deng to soften his stance.

Deng Bass had initially only looked at Yuan Xingzhou, but now he focused his attention on Ye Huai.

“Ye Huai, you used to be the ‘visual’ of the group,” Deng Bass looked at Ye Huai with interest. “I’ve watched your performances too. They were very striking.”

“Is that so?” Ye Huai smiled with an air of indifference. “But our group’s album quality wasn’t great. It was a far cry from Zhou Quan’s Sun, Moon, and Sea. Will Xingzhou’s album be produced to the standard of Sun, Moon, and Sea?”

Deng Bass: “…”

Zhou Quan was the top star of Bass Records; his album sales even broke several records last year. While not everyone bought into his records, his MVs were famous for being high-end, sophisticated, and exquisite productions.

Deng Bass hadn’t expected these two to be so daring in their thinking.

Yuan Xingzhou was also secretly shocked. He had originally thought of doing something small-scale, fearing that if it didn’t sell, he would cause the record company to lose money. He hadn’t expected Ye Huai to raise the requirements instead.

With the three of them in the same room, he couldn’t give Ye Huai any hints. He could only remain silent and let the man work his magic.

“Of course,” Deng Bass laughed and played it off. “You can mention any ideas you have. Although the final result might not be exactly identical, the company will definitely strive for high-quality production.”

“There are ideas. Since Xingzhou is going to release original compositions, can the company see if it can hire several internationally renowned producers to oversee the quality? Furthermore, for the MV filming, the locations need to be high-end. The more investment, the better; if not, we can do it as a joint venture. After all, Xingzhou’s fame and traffic are here. If it isn’t done well, it’ll look bad, and the fans will complain.”

Ye Huai acted practically like a manager, speaking with total sincerity. “Bass Records is very professional in this regard, which is why we prioritized cooperating with Bass.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…”

Yuan Xingzhou had barely said a few words since entering the room; Ye Huai had arranged everything for him.

A flash of hesitation crossed Deng Bass’s eyes, but he still said: “It’s fate. I personally like Xingzhou’s improvised performance very much.”

After saying this, they chatted for a bit, and he had his secretary bring in a stack of materials. He selected two: a recording and performance contract, and an explanation of copyright ownership and royalty splits. He had clearly been prepared.

Ye Huai took them composedly, stating he’d take them back to read through slowly.

Yuan Xingzhou had thought they might finalize things on the spot today. Hearing him say this, he had to follow suit and stand up to take his leave.

As he was leaving, he couldn’t help but glance at the “real” looking Deng Bass. He secretly wondered: if he had handed over the demos from the start and humbly requested to release songs, would he have received a different contract?

“Let Wen Ting look at it for you later.” Only after the two had left Deng Bass’s office and entered the elevator did Ye Huai speak. “These kinds of contracts have verbal traps. I don’t have time to check them for you, so let Wen Ting review them. If he thinks they’re reliable, then tell Li Yu.”

“You’re truly incredible,” Yuan Xingzhou took them and couldn’t help but say. “I wouldn’t have thought of that myself.”

“Is it that I’m incredible, or is your mind too focused on your ‘concubine’?” Ye Huai said with a look of disdain. “Do I still need to teach you this? How did you sign your previous contracts?”

Yuan Xingzhou: “Brother Li told me to sign, so I signed. I never raised any objections.” Li Yu had never taught him, and he hadn’t dared to speak up.

Ye Huai was surprised. “Li Yu isn’t even good to you. Why do you let him be your manager?”

Yuan Xingzhou froze, feeling a bit wronged. “When I chose him, I didn’t know he wouldn’t like me…”

Ye Huai: “…”

As a manager, Li Yu’s reputation was actually very good—low-key yet powerful. Wen Ting had once mentioned that Li Yu watched at least two hours of film every day to maintain his aesthetic sense and acuity. That’s why he was so strong at picking scripts.

But while Li Yu was capable, he didn’t like Yuan Xingzhou; he often neglected him and occasionally mocked him. In Ye Huai’s view, the help and the harm this man gave Yuan Xingzhou existed simultaneously. The harm was invisible, and someone with a tough personality wouldn’t be affected much.

But Yuan Xingzhou’s personality wasn’t tough; he likely just digested it all himself most of the time.

“Although Bass is a bit ruthless with the profit split, their packaging and promotion are excellent. Think clearly about the image and positioning you like, and let them package you.”

Ye Huai was already fantasizing. “You sing well and look good. When you release songs, they’ll definitely be hits across the country, sweeping the charts and variety shows. Every time you appear on camera, you should play that thirty-second improvisation. Rub Yuan Cheng’s face in the dirt.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…” Yuan Xingzhou was quite excited at first, but hearing the end, he nearly burst out laughing. Ye Huai really held a grudge.

But he remembered it too; thinking about it that way did feel quite refreshing.

“In the future, when you see people, you have to maintain your ‘airs’ (status),” Ye Huai instructed again. “Don’t pour your heart out to everyone; some people aren’t worth it.”

“Okay,” Yuan Xingzhou smiled. “I was too anxious just now. I thought CEOs were all very busy and only gave you three minutes to talk…”

He was afraid big shots would be too busy and kick him out before he could finish the main points. He was also afraid of being rejected after raising conditions and losing the opportunity.

Maintaining an appropriate distance can sometimes facilitate negotiations, but the balance is hard to strike; if done poorly, it looks like you’re being ungrateful or offending people.

Yuan Xingzhou replayed the scene just now in his mind. The look he gave Ye Huai was full of admiration and gratitude. He wondered: when would he be able to be so confident and handle conversations so effortlessly?

“Brother Huai, you’re so amazing,” Yuan Xingzhou turned his head and said earnestly. “You were literally glowing with coolness just now!”

Ye Huai was about to speak to him, but being looked at like that, he froze for a second, then turned back awkwardly.

“Don’t look at me with that kind of gaze…” Ye Huai snorted, straightened his back, and glanced at Yuan Xingzhou through the mirror-like elevator doors. “If you love me, just say it. Hints are useless.”

Yuan Xingzhou: “…” He’s at it again. This time, Yuan Xingzhou remembered “K-sis’s” suggestion.

“Yes, I love you very much,” Yuan Xingzhou looked at him through the reflection in the elevator door and emphasized, “And the most, most, most important point…”

Having said that, he raised his index finger, mimicking Ye Huai’s look from that day, and said with mock solemnity: “I only love you.”