Big E! No dodge!
Ding!
Early in the morning, Su Mengyao sent a selfie: “It’s over, brother, look, my lips are so swollen I look like a little dog stung by a bee.”
Pfft!
Li Jie, in the middle of brushing his teeth, spat a mouthful of foam onto the wall.
He quickly rinsed his mouth and sent a voice message: “Why don’t you take the day off and ask for leave tomorrow instead?”
“Alright, then can I come over to your place today?”
“I’ll come pick you up.”
“Yay~~”
Lounging in bed at home, Su Mengyao ordered breakfast delivery, one for herself, and of course, one for her mother.
Li Jie filled up at the cafeteria for just three yuan—truly, the perks of being a college student are many.
“Old Li!”
“Rong, you’re at the cafeteria too?”
“Old Li, what’s going on? Bad mood today, eating so little? Here, have a poached egg, you need a boost.”
Guo Rong carried a stainless steel bowl containing six poached eggs.
Li Jie, sipping his porridge, didn’t stand on ceremony: “Thanks, Rong!”
“About the sports meet, Old Li, I’m counting on you.”
“No problem, winning a prize is in the bag.”
Suddenly, Li Jie remembered that Guo Rong had become a counselor through his own merit, and asked, “By the way, Rong, does your dad have any part-time jobs for upperclassmen?”
“Got some work to recommend?”
“My godfather’s a director. He’s got work—graphic design, book layout, illustration, art design… needs a few people.”
“Damn, how big a project is this?”
“The current budget is two million.”
“Two million? Damn…”
Guo Rong perked up, then asked, “Anyone suitable in our department?”
“Why, you looking for someone, Rong?”
“Of course.”
Stirring fermented tofu into his porridge, Guo Rong organized his thoughts and said, “Here’s the thing—‘social practice’ is being used to select outstanding students this year. I wanted to ask, is your project suitable?”
“There must be criteria for being selected, right?”
“Our school judges by the quality of the work, its reach, influence, and any awards. That’s pretty much it.”
“That’s hard to say…” Li Jie hesitated.
“Never mind then.” Guo Rong was straightforward.
“Isn’t there any evaluation for ‘work-study’ performance?”
“There is, but it’s got nothing to do with me. I’m just a counselor.”
“Rong, with your bearing and talent, it’s a pity you’re not a homeroom teacher.”
“I think so too.”
Though it didn’t pan out for himself, Guo Rong assured Li Jie he’d discuss it with his father, Vice Dean Guo Wei, that evening.
In truth, the School of Industrial Design had been having a rough time in recent years, struggling to compete with similar majors at engineering universities. The reason was simple: Jianye Academy of Art’s Industrial Design leaned toward art, while engineering universities focused purely on technical skills. They didn’t come up with those “I think so” anti-industrial logic proposals.
In Sanjiang Province, Nanzhili University—nicknamed “Taihu Road Light Industry Vocational School”—stood alone among industrial design programs, and the rest were left to sort themselves out.
Guo Wei was vice dean of the School of Industrial Design and in charge of student employment, which constantly worried him. The job prospects for graduates were too narrow, holding back his advancement.
It was all Dean Liu Gao’s incompetence, making it impossible for the School of Industrial Design to flourish!
If Li Jie wanted to shoot “Masked Calabash Hero” and save costs, he really did need help. Even using the most frugal special effects filming methods, each episode would cost at least half a million; a two-million yuan budget wouldn’t last long.
Usually, shooting a show meant securing investment. Self-funding was extremely risky. For TV, you needed a top-tier station; for the big screen, a powerful investor. That’s how you minimized risk.
That’s why big stars and directors could rake in money so easily—not because their work was especially good, but because they guaranteed steady output and a basic rate of return.
Take Ai Shoujin, for instance—he could shoot a ridiculous mess like “Fairy Monkey” and everyone knew it would be a flop, but his track record in TV still attracted a swarm of investors.
Making movies isn’t about creating art; it’s an investment project, a platform, no different from a factory product.
Why had Li Jie been ignoring that damned system? Because it offered no guarantees of return. What was he supposed to do? He’d milk it for what he could, but investing his own money meant dancing on a knife’s edge.
But things were different now. What flowed in Li Jie’s biceps wasn’t hemoglobin—it was the heady scent of romance.
Of course, maybe it wasn’t love, maybe he was just infatuated by a pair of impressive E-cups.
One thing’s for sure—they were indeed impressive!
“Boss Li!”
Just as he was about to pick up Su Mengyao, Chen Pi called. “Boss Li, guess what? Old Sima’s interested—he wants to invest in this project.”
“Old Sima” was Sima Rui, deputy director of Pingjiang TV Station, mainly responsible for drama acquisitions. He’d been put in charge of program production before, but it was all small scale, never making any waves.
Still, to Chen Pi, “Old Sima” was the man.
“Invest in the project?” Li Jie was not only well-built but sharp-minded, and immediately caught on. “How much kickback does the old guy want?”
“He’s quoting according to prime-time prices at the Big Seven stations…”
“Speak plainly.”
Prime-time drama acquisitions at the Big Seven TV stations usually went for seven hundred thousand per episode—those were classics, the best of the best, perennial hits.
And what was Pingjiang TV Station? It couldn’t compare to the Big Seven.
Clearly, Sima Rui was talking nonsense.
Of course, Pingjiang TV paid much more than smaller local stations, which might pay only a few thousand per episode. Tens of thousands, even a hundred thousand, wasn’t impossible.
Quoting a high price was all about inflating the kickback.
A procurement price of fifty thousand per episode, reported as one hundred fifty thousand, meant the extra hundred thousand landed in someone’s pocket.
“Eighty thousand an episode. We get thirty.”
“Can you give me two days? I have another TV station I can negotiate with. If that works out, we won’t need to bother with Old Sima.”
“What? Old Li, whose sugar mama did you hook up with in the past few days?”
“Screw you! Someone just recognized my talent.”
“Talent? You? Wait, you wrote this script yourself?”
“Of course.”
“Didn’t hire a ghostwriter?”
“You seem pretty ghostly yourself.”
“Damn! Old Li, you’ve blossomed again? The ‘child prodigy’ is back?!”
Chen Pi cheered in excitement. “Three years! Three whole years! Do you know what I’ve been through? Every night, I dreamt you were still that genius boy. I—”
“Stop making a drama out of your own life. Can you keep Old Sima steady?”
“Mission guaranteed!”
“Hanging up.”
“Take care, Boss Li~~”
Hanging up, Li Jie shifted gears and headed off to pick up Su Mengyao. Meanwhile, in a cramped office at Pingjiang TV’s third-party business center, Chen Pi hummed a little tune as he looked around the room. After a moment, he grinned smugly: “Time to find myself a bigger office.”