Novellv Chapter 1627 His reputation is ruined
Chapter 1627 His reputation is ruined
Zhao Lanxin felt no sympathy for Guyan. In her opinion, Guyan had brought this upon herself by being used by her, and she was also smug about her decisiveness in sacrificing the pawn to save the king.
However, the smile on her face didn't last long before it was shattered by a phone call from Ling Yikai.
"Zhao Lanxin, many authors in the company have requested to terminate their contracts. What exactly is going on?"
many?
She frowned, opened her contacts, and called Xiao Wang from the operations department.
"Xiao Wang, what's the situation at the company right now?"
The voice on the other end of the phone sounded flustered: "Mr. Zhao, please come back quickly—Liu Zhiyuan, Chen Ming, Zhou Xueru… many authors are waiting at the door, saying they want to see you."
Zhao Lanxin's pupils contracted slightly.
Liu Zhiyuan, Chen Ming, Zhou Xueru.
She was familiar with all three names.
Liu Zhiyuan is currently the company's highest-earning fantasy author, with royalties exceeding one million yuan last year, making him one of the company's top performers. While Chen Ming's achievements are not as high as Liu Zhiyuan's, he has two books whose copyrights have already been sold, and the royalties alone are enough to sustain the company for several years. Zhou Xueru, on the other hand, is a highly influential ancient romance novelist among female readers, boasting extremely high reader loyalty, with each of her books consistently achieving an average subscription rate of over ten thousand.
These three are all core assets of the company.
How could they both request to terminate their contracts at the same time?
The taxi suddenly slowed down—there was a traffic jam ahead.
Zhao Lanxin glanced at the time, gritted her teeth, and said, "Master, just drop me off at the intersection ahead, I'll walk."
She paid the bill, then quickly crossed the sidewalk in her high heels, almost running back to her office building.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, she heard a cacophony of voices coming from the direction of the conference room.
"We're not unreasonable people, but you've seen the policies on Earth. How much commission do they take? Look at our company, not only are the commissions high, but the authors don't even have a say..."
This is Liu Zhiyuan's voice.
Zhao Lanxin took a deep breath, straightened her hair and collar, put on a professional smile, and pushed open the conference room door.
There were seven or eight people sitting in the conference room.
Besides Liu Zhiyuan, Chen Ming, and Zhou Xueru, there were several other mid-level authors, and each of them looked rather grim. Liu Zhiyuan held a cup of tea in his hand, but hadn't drunk from it; he was gently swirling the teacup between his fingers.
"Oh, Mr. Zhao is back." Liu Zhiyuan put down his teacup when he saw her, his tone polite but distant: "We were just talking when you arrived."
Zhao Lanxin smiled and walked to the main seat, her gaze sweeping over everyone's faces.
"Teacher Liu, Teacher Chen, Sister Xue Ru, why are you all here today? Is there something you want to tell me?"
Her tone was relaxed, as if she were chatting about everyday things.
But Liu Zhiyuan had no intention of beating around the bush with her.
He leaned forward and said frankly, "Mr. Zhao, we've been working together for so long, so I won't go into the formalities—we're here today to discuss terminating the contract."
As soon as she finished speaking, Zhao Lanxin's smile froze for a moment.
She quickly adjusted her expression, her tone remaining gentle: "Terminate the contract? Brother Liu, aren't we working together perfectly well? The sales of 'Supreme Ruler of All Realms' have been steadily rising, and last month's average subscriptions were almost 50,000, right? Terminating the contract at this time wouldn't be worthwhile for you."
Liu Zhiyuan shook his head.
"The results are improving, but Mr. Zhao, you know better than I do how much money I can actually earn. Zhixing only takes a 10% commission, plus year-end bonuses and various other benefits. Not to mention all that, there's their new partnership system—anyone with an annual income of over 500,000 can become a partner, and they can get stock options for three consecutive years."
"And look at our side, besides receiving monthly royalties, what else do we have?"
Zhao Lanxin's face darkened.
But she didn't react. Instead, she turned to Chen Ming and Zhou Xueru and asked, "Teacher Chen, Sister Xueru, is this the reason you're here too?"
Chen Ming adjusted his glasses: "Pretty much. I've talked to the people at Zhixing, and their terms are indeed much better than ours. And—I heard that after Teacher Qin Hao took over Zhixing, he not only changed the revenue sharing ratio but also set up a copyright management department specifically for authors, helping them connect with various adaptation resources. Mr. Zhao, when can we have those here?"
Zhou Xueru added, "President Zhao, it's not that we absolutely have to leave. If you can offer similar terms to Zhixing, we'd definitely be willing to stay. After all, we've worked together for so long, and we have a bond with each other."
Zhao Lanxin sneered inwardly.
emotion?
Talking about relationships in the online literature community is the stupidest thing to do.
These authors are polite on the surface, but they're all after their own interests. Today they might turn against Zhixing for her conditions, but tomorrow they might betray her for an even higher price.
But she still had a smile on her face.
"Gentlemen, I have heard your opinions. To be honest, the company has been considering reforms, including stock incentives, and we are already drafting a plan."
She paused, her tone softening slightly: "But as you all know, the company is currently in a period of business adjustment, and many things take time. But I can assure you that the company will definitely launch a corresponding equity incentive plan, and we certainly won't let you down when that happens."
Liu Zhiyuan and Chen Ming exchanged a glance.
Liu Zhiyuan frowned: "President Zhao, you're not just trying to fob us off, are you?"
"When have I ever lied to you?" Zhao Lanxin stood up with a smile, walked to Liu Zhiyuan's side, and gently patted his shoulder. "Teacher Liu, we've known each other for so many years. You should know what kind of person I am, Zhao Lanxin. I assure you, the equity incentive plan will be out soon. If you're not satisfied by then, you can leave, okay?"
Liu Zhiyuan pondered for a moment, and finally nodded.
"Alright, then I'll wait for you to say that, Mr. Zhao."
Chen Ming and Zhou Xueru didn't say anything more. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, they got up and left the meeting room.
Once the meeting room door closed, the smile on Zhao Lanxin's face vanished instantly.
She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
Qin Hao.
It's Qin Hao again.
She gritted her teeth, her fingers slowly tightening on the table.
That bastard, he's already achieved great success and is practically retired, why does he have to come back and cause trouble?
Acquiring Zhixing is one thing, but then they come up with a partnership system and equity incentives—isn't this just blatantly trying to steal her talent?
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became, and her chest felt tight.
The most important thing now is to keep these authors calm and buy ourselves some time.
However, before she could catch her breath, the conference room door was pushed open again.
Ling Yikai stood at the door with a dark expression.
"Zhao Lanxin, come out here for a moment."
His tone was as cold as ice.
Zhao Lanxin frowned and followed him into the office.
Ling Yikai closed the door, turned around, and questioned him bluntly: "You agreed to the shareholding reform without even discussing it with me? Do you think the company is still just the two of us in charge?"
"That was just a delaying tactic, can't you tell?" Zhao Lanxin said impatiently. "If Liu Zhiyuan and the others leave, our company will fall apart. What else can I do if I don't say that?"
"A delaying tactic?" Ling Yikai sneered. "You should at least discuss your delaying tactic with me first, shouldn't you? Do you know I just had a meeting with investors this afternoon? They even asked me if our company's equity structure had changed, and I said no. And then you turn around and start making empty promises to those authors—if word gets out, how am I supposed to explain this to the investors?"
"Anyway, the shares definitely can't be divided. You'll have to figure out how to handle things with the author."
Ling Yikai slammed the door and left after saying that.
With a bang.
The office door slammed heavily against the doorframe with a loud bang.
Zhao Lanxin stood there alone, her body trembling slightly.
She looked at the door that was still swaying slightly, and tears suddenly streamed down her face.
But she quickly wiped away her tears with her fingertips, sat back down in her chair, and turned on her computer.
She needs to come up with a plan as soon as possible to keep the authors on their side.
However, things took a far greater turn than she had anticipated.
That very afternoon, a message leaked from within the Zhixing organization, quickly causing a stir in the online literature community—
Zixing has reached strategic partnerships with several short drama production companies. Zixing is responsible for writing the scripts, while the short drama production companies are responsible for filming and distribution, jointly opening up the short drama market.
What does this news mean for most authors?
This means that as long as your work is selected by Zixing for adaptation into a short drama, you can receive an adaptation fee.
While this amount of money is barely enough for a top author like Liu Zhiyuan, since the adaptation fee for a short drama is only tens of thousands of yuan, it is a windfall for many mid-level authors.
Moreover, adapting short dramas is not a one-off transaction.
Unlike traditional film and television adaptations, the timeframe for a short drama series, from scriptwriting to filming and release, is as short as one month and no longer than three months. If the work is suitable for adaptation, the same book can be adapted into different short dramas multiple times.
Every adaptation costs money.
Over time, the profits become quite substantial.
The news caused an uproar throughout the online literature community.
In various author groups, messages about the discussion kept flooding the screen.
"Holy crap! This planet is about to do something big!"
"Adapted into a short drama? I heard that the cost of making a short drama is only a few hundred thousand yuan, but if it becomes a hit, the revenue can be several times higher!"
"The key is the adaptation fee, guys! Tens of thousands of yuan per adaptation, hundreds of thousands over ten, what's the difference between that and getting it for free?"
"It's a pity that Zhixing only adapts the works of its contracted authors, while we outsiders can only watch and drool."
"How about... we try going to the planet Chuxing too?"
When Zhao Lanxin saw these messages, she was completely stunned.
She sat at her desk, staring at the screenshots of chat logs on her computer screen, her fingers trembling slightly.
Short drama?
Qin Hao is actually making short dramas?!
She suddenly remembered that Ling Yikai had mentioned the development trend of the short drama market during a company meeting. At the time, she thought it was too small a concept and not worth paying attention to. After all, a short drama episode was only a few minutes long, with a production cost of hundreds of thousands of yuan—how much profit could it possibly make?
But now she realizes she was wrong.
That's completely wrong.
While individual short dramas may not generate high revenue, their advantages lie in their large volume, short production cycle, and replicability. This is especially true for online literature platforms, which have no shortage of content—a single novel can be adapted into more than a dozen short dramas.
Moreover, short dramas have low production barriers; they don't require big-name actors, sophisticated special effects, or even complex scenes. As long as the script is good, the pacing is fast, and it can capture the audience's emotions, it has the potential to become a hit.
That afternoon, Zhao Lanxin's phone was ringing off the hook.
First, Liu Zhiyuan called: "President Zhao, you've heard about Zhixing's short drama project, right? I won't beat around the bush—if you can't come up with a better plan than Zhixing within a month, we'll have to part ways amicably."
Next, Chen Ming said, "President Zhao, I'm sorry, Zhou Xueru and I have discussed it and decided to terminate the contract early. Zhixing has already given us clear terms, and we feel there's no need to wait any longer."
Then came more mid-level authors, calling one after another, their tone shifting from polite to impatient, from probing to outright confrontation.
Zhao Lanxin answered phone calls all afternoon, and her voice became hoarse.
But she still didn't budge.
She knew that if she gave in, the company would be completely finished.
In the evening, the last group of authors who wanted to terminate their contracts were called to the conference room.
Zhao Lanxin stood in front of the conference table, looking coldly at the dozen or so authors in front of her.
Her eyes were sharp and cold.
"I'll say it one last time—you can terminate the contract, but according to the contract, you should carefully consider the penalty for unilateral termination."
She opened the contract in her hand and read aloud: "If Party B unilaterally terminates the contract during the contract period, Party B shall pay Party A a penalty equivalent to 300% of Party B's cumulative income on Party A's platform..."
The meeting room erupted in an uproar.
"Mr. Zhao, this is unreasonable!" A young author suddenly stood up. "That's not what you said when we signed the contract!"
“It’s all written clearly in black and white in the contract. How am I being unreasonable?” Zhao Lanxin looked at him coldly. “If you’re not satisfied, you can sue me. But let me remind you, those who want to unilaterally terminate the contract should look at what happened to Guyan. He is a cautionary tale.”
The entire conference room fell silent for a moment.
All eyes were on Zhao Lanxin, their eyes filled with anger, resentment, and fear.
They certainly knew about Lone Smoke's situation.
If it weren't for Zhao Lanxin poaching him, Guyan could have become a top author on Zhixing, but now he's burdened with tens of millions in debt, while Zhao Lanxin hasn't shed a single hair. That woman is simply vicious.
"Go back now." Zhao Lanxin closed the contract, her tone calm. "Think it over and come back to me. But by then, it won't be as simple as it is now."
The authors looked at each other, and eventually left the meeting room in silence.
Zhao Lanxin stood there, looking at the empty conference room, and let out a long sigh.
But her phone rang soon after.
It was Xiao Wang from the operations department calling.
"Mr. Zhao... what you said in the conference room just now was recorded."
Zhao Lanxin's pupils suddenly contracted.
"recording?"
"Yes... someone has already posted about it in the group. Now the entire author community is discussing this, saying that our company is disloyal and is threatening authors with contracts... Mr. Zhao, our reputation is ruined now."
Zhao Lanxin's hand holding the phone trembled slightly.
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end, she said nothing.
The phone screen lit up; it was a message from Ling Yikai.
"Zhao Lanxin, take a look for yourself."
Below is a screenshot—a message being frantically forwarded in the authors' group, with the title prominently displayed:
"Breaking News! Boss Zhao of XX Company Threatens Author: If You Dare to Terminate the Contract, I'll Sue You Until You're Bankrupt!"
The comments section was full of insults.
"Does this kind of company even deserve to be called a company? Do they really think the author is just a sucker?"
"Brothers, stay away from these companies! Anyone who signs with one of these is doomed."
As Zhao Lanxin looked at the comments, her fingers slowly tightened until her knuckles turned white.
She knew she was finished.
At least within the author community, her credibility has completely collapsed.
-
Meanwhile, at the headquarters of the planet Ephemeral Star.
Qin Hao was sitting in Lin Zhanqiao's office, with the progress schedule of the short drama project open on his laptop.
Lin Zhanqiao sat opposite him, her face showing barely concealed excitement: "Old Qin, guess how many contract applications we received today?"
"How much?" Qin Hao asked without looking up.
“Four hundred and twenty-one.” Lin Zhanqiao’s tone carried a hint of pride: “And it’s still increasing. I just glanced at the backend, and this afternoon alone, more than three thousand authors registered on our official website.”
Qin Hao then looked up, raising an eyebrow: "So many?"
“That’s right.” Lin Zhanqiao leaned back in her chair, shaking her head with a smile. “You wouldn’t believe it, my phone has been ringing off the hook since the news of the short drama collaboration got out.”
She paused, her smile deepening. "But what really makes me happy is that Zhao Lanxin's side is in an uproar too. I heard that several of her top authors want to terminate their contracts, and she threatened them with those contracts, but someone recorded her, and now the entire industry is cursing her."
Qin Hao smiled but didn't say anything.
He had long anticipated this day would come.
Zhao Lanxin is a person with a narrow mind and shallow vision. She thought she could retain authors through contracts and threats, but she didn't realize that in this industry, reputation and word-of-mouth are the most valuable things.
“However—” Lin Zhanqiao’s tone changed, becoming serious: “Uncle Fan has found out about the short drama.”
Qin Hao's fingers paused on the keyboard.
"Xiao Cai called me this afternoon and said that Uncle Fan would like to have a chat with you."
Qin Hao remained silent for a moment, then closed his laptop.
"Okay, let's talk then."
He had barely finished speaking when there was a knock on the office door.
The young woman at the front desk poked her head in: "President Qin, President Lin—President Fan from Dingqi.com is here. He says he wants to have a chat with President Qin."
Qin Hao and Lin Zhanqiao exchanged a glance.
Lin Zhanqiao couldn't help but chuckle: "Speak of the devil, and he appears. Old Fan, he's here fast enough."
Qin Hao stood up and straightened his shirt collar: "I guess he can't sit still anymore."
He walked out of his office, through the corridor, and into the reception area.
Uncle Fan was sitting on the sofa, holding a cup of tea in his hand, looking calm and composed.
Seeing Qin Hao come out, he smiled and put down his teacup: "Teacher Qin Hao, I'm sorry to bother you."
"Mr. Fan, you're too kind." Qin Hao sat down opposite him. "What brings you here?"
Uncle Fan didn't rush to speak. Instead, he picked up his teacup, took a sip, and then slowly said, "Teacher Qin Hao, why didn't you inform me before making such a big move?"
Qin Hao smiled, leaned back on the sofa, and sighed: "Hey, Mr. Fan, you're talking about the short drama adaptation, right? Actually, I didn't want to do this either, but I was forced into it."
"Oh?" Uncle Fan raised an eyebrow: "What do you mean?"
Qin Hao smiled wryly and said, "President Fan, as you know, when I took over Zhixing, Lin Zhanqiao signed a large number of new authors. To put it nicely, these new authors are potential stars; to put it bluntly, they are a burden—it's basically impossible for them to achieve success in long-form online novels in the short term."
“I also considered laying them off, but Lin Zhanqiao absolutely refused. As you know, President Fan, she's a good person in every way, except she's too soft-hearted. She feels that since people have signed contracts, she has to be responsible for them.”
"But I can't keep supporting them like this forever, can I?"
Qin Hao shrugged: "We had no other choice but to come up with this idea. Short drama adaptations don't require much in terms of long narrative skills; a month or two of training is enough to get the hang of it. It can provide a way out for newcomers without increasing the company's costs, killing two birds with one stone."
After he finished speaking, he added with a smile, "Besides, Dingqi.com has always been committed to film and television adaptations. I thought President Fan looked down on the market for such poorly made short dramas."
These words, spoken subtly, successfully shut Uncle Fan up.
Uncle Fan was silent for a few seconds, then finally shook his head with a smile: "Teacher Qin Hao, your mouth..."
He did not press the matter further.
Although Qin Hao's words sounded reasonable and well-founded, he still felt that things were not so simple.
Qin Hao is the kind of person who never fights a battle unprepared. The fact that he chose to launch the short drama project immediately after acquiring Zhixing shows that he had planned it all along and it was definitely not a spur-of-the-moment decision.
However, Qin Hao was right about one thing.
The top management at Dingqi.com really doesn't think much of short dramas.
In their view, these poorly made dramas only cost a few hundred thousand yuan each. How can they compete with the hundreds of millions of yuan invested in film and television dramas? These small-scale productions are not worth Dingqi.com's resources at all.
However, what Dingqi.com looks down upon as meager sums is a veritable feast for many lower- and middle-level authors.
Over the next month, Zixing received hundreds of contract applications almost every day.
The authors who came for the interview were of all kinds—there were veteran authors who had been working in the online literature circle for seven or eight years, newcomers who had published one or two successful works, and novices who had no writing experience at all and were purely attracted by the short drama market.
Lin Zhanqiao and her editorial team worked from morning till night every day, interviewing, reviewing manuscripts, signing contracts, and arranging training. She was like a wound-up toy, with her feet never touching the ground.
Xiao Liu bumped into her in the break room one day and, noticing her dark circles, couldn't help but ask, "Ms. Lin, have you not slept for days?"
Lin Zhanqiao yawned and waved her hand: "It's okay, I'll be fine after this busy period."
To be honest, Lin Zhanqiao felt she had never been this busy before.
She never felt this tired when she was all alone on the planet.
But now, she feels—though tired, she feels more at ease than ever before.
Because she could clearly sense that the planet was developing in a direction she had never imagined.
It was a vigorous, life-giving growth.
It's not a false prosperity propped up by one or two top-tier authors, but rather a reasonable system and a clear direction that allows every author to find their place here.
This feeling is wonderful.
Uncle Fan later sent people to investigate the data of the short drama market.
I don’t know, I’m scared.
Although the short drama market is still in its infancy, the leading production companies that entered the market early have already reaped considerable benefits.
One production company invested 600,000 yuan to shoot a sweet romance short drama, which earned over 8 million yuan in revenue within three months of its release. Another production company produced a 12-episode suspense short drama with a budget of less than 1 million yuan, which garnered over 200 million views.
These numbers, taken individually, are nothing compared to the billions of views that TV dramas and movies often have.
But the sheer volume is overwhelming.
The production cycle for a short drama series can be as short as one month or as long as three months. Over a year, a company can produce dozens of short drama series. Even if only one-tenth of them become hits, the profits are still considerable.
While Zhixing, as the script provider, doesn't earn as much as a production company, its advantage lies in stability—as long as the adapted script is selected, Zhixing can receive a certain percentage of the adaptation fee.
More importantly, the short drama project brought far more than just direct economic benefits to Zhixing.
It has brought a large number of new authors, gained industry reputation and attention, and attracted more capital investment.
Within a month, the number of signed authors at Zhixing doubled, and the company's valuation soared accordingly.
When Lin Zhanqiao mentioned these figures at a weekly meeting, he said with a touch of emotion, "To be honest, I never imagined that short dramas could have such a huge impact."
Qin Hao sat in the main seat and smiled: "There are many things you haven't thought of yet."
"What do you mean?" Lin Zhanqiao looked at him curiously.
Qin Hao didn't answer directly. Instead, he stood up, walked to the whiteboard in the office, picked up a pen, and drew a large circle on it.
"Short dramas are just the first step."
He wrote a word in the middle of the circle: Content.
"In the next three to five years, the core competitiveness of the content industry will not lie in the size of your platform or your powerful traffic distribution capabilities."
He paused, then turned to look at Lin Zhanqiao.
"It depends on how much high-quality content you have."
"Short dramas, animation, film and television, games... all forms of entertainment are essentially extensions of content. Whoever controls the source of content controls the discourse."
Qin Hao drew several lines on the whiteboard, extending outwards from the circle. At the end of each line was written a word: short drama, animation, film and television, game, audiobook, overseas distribution...
Lin Zhanqiao stared blankly at the increasingly complex diagram on the whiteboard.
She suddenly realized that Qin Hao's acquisition of Zixing was definitely not just for "making some money for baby formula".
This man was orchestrating a grand scheme from the very beginning. (End of Chapter)