Chapter 118 I Do Not Want the Endorsement Fee

After confirming it several times, Lan Lun finally stopped acting strangely and returned to his naturally icy demeanor. Only then did he fully believe that Chu Luoxi had agreed without even asking him for a reason.

Although it was a little childish, Chu Luoxi rarely got to see Lan Lun lose his composure, so she patiently played along with him. She simply had not expected him to require so many confirmations before believing her. Did she really seem that untrustworthy?

“But they’re only offering three hundred thousand,” Lan Lun continued expressionlessly. He truly had not expected Chu Luoxi to show him so much consideration, completely unaware that the young woman was already calculating furiously in her head.

Chu Luoxi raised an eyebrow. At last, she understood why the company had been unable to find an endorser. With such a paltry sum, even newcomers would turn it down. “For one year?”

“Yes.” Lan Lun also felt that the offer was embarrassingly low. Unless they sought someone with absolutely no experience—someone brand-new to the point of being unknown—there was no way to hire anyone at that price. But having such a person endorse the game would hardly serve any purpose.

“That’s not too bad.” A light flickered in Chu Luoxi’s dark eyes. “From the way you put it, your friend must be short on funds for developing this game, right?”

“Yes, to some extent.” Lan Lun’s brows shifted almost imperceptibly. Somehow, there was something odd about the way she had phrased that.

“In that case, would he be interested in investment? I’ll waive the endorsement fee. Just let me invest and receive a share of the profits.”

Her eyes brightened, narrowing slightly like a fox’s.

Although Chu’s father had only established a modest company, he had benefited from good timing and had accumulated a comfortable amount of capital. Since the company was in the technology sector, making investments was a perfectly normal avenue for growth.

Lan Lun was stunned once again. He had never imagined that Chu Luoxi would make such a proposal. It seemed to have strayed completely from the original purpose of their discussion.

Still, he knew that his friend was genuinely short of money. Hiring someone to endorse the game was already the cheapest form of publicity; all other promotional expenses would probably have to be cut entirely.

If Chu Luoxi truly wanted to invest, it would solve their immediate crisis. They had tried seeking investors before, but no one had believed in the project. As for a bank loan, they had already borrowed once and could not take out another.

The game market itself had reached saturation, some would even say overrun. Many developers simply made a quick profit and disappeared. Games as good as Seeking the Path were exceedingly rare, not to mention that the team seemed to be researching some new technology as well. Attention to detail required money. His friend and the others had nearly bankrupted themselves for the game, pouring in a tremendous amount of capital without knowing whether they would ever recover it.

The reason Lan Lun had come to Chu Luoxi in the first place was to help his friend in whatever small way he could. Beyond that, there was little else he was capable of doing.

“Do you even have time to invest?” Lan Lun asked suspiciously, secretly struggling with the situation.

“If I don’t have time, does that mean my father doesn’t either? My father already owns a technology company, you know.” Chu Luoxi rolled her eyes. She was even waiving the endorsement fee, so why was he still asking so many questions?

Three hundred thousand—tsk. After taxes and the school’s share, hardly anything would remain in her hands. She might as well call it free and gain a favor in the process. Besides, if the game truly became successful, who could say who would ultimately benefit more?

“Then I’ll ask him for you.” Lan Lun sounded faintly helpless, and his icy expression grew even stiffer. He still could not understand how a discussion about an endorsement had somehow veered this far off course.

Chu Luoxi would have liked to sign the agreement immediately, but everything had to proceed step by step. All she could do was patiently wait.

Still, Director Lan was always highly efficient. The next day, Chu Luoxi received a definite answer. Naturally, she did not need to handle the matter herself. She merely called her father and left everything to him, adding only that they could contact her if they needed her to film a promotional video.

Seeking the Path would not be released anytime soon, so there was no urgency about filming the advertisement. The reason they had approached her at this point was simply to secure a lower price. Judging by the momentum of Empire, Chu Luoxi’s value was bound to rise dramatically.

Amid an endless chorus of anticipation, countless television viewers began counting down the days, eagerly awaiting Empire’s premiere. The trailer had already begun to reveal its power. Many people found that the other dramas currently airing suddenly seemed uninteresting by comparison, as though they had lost all flavor overnight.

Despite how fiercely Empire was being discussed, most people were still watching from the sidelines and reserving judgment. With even the internet now requiring users to register under their real names, people could no longer spread nonsense recklessly. Even in real life, they had to be more measured in what they said.

Thus, aside from the devoted fans of the leading actors, most people remained neutral. They neither praised the drama excessively nor openly criticized it. Instead, they cautiously insisted that they would have to watch it before forming an opinion. Unwittingly, this cultivated an even larger audience.

After all, a trailer was only a trailer. It was condensed entirely from the finest moments of the plot, and that did not mean the full drama would truly be good. Similar incidents had occurred countless times before: a production would generate tremendous excitement beforehand, disappoint viewers from the very first episode, and then be cursed relentlessly halfway through its run. In this age of rapid information exchange, audiences had become exceptionally discerning. The higher something was lifted, the harder it fell. Many people were even quietly waiting to watch it become a laughingstock.

Ordinarily, when public interest became too intense, a production team’s publicity department would find a way to cool things down, lest excessive hype damage the drama’s reputation. But Qiu Xian was clearly overflowing with confidence and ambition. Rather than dampening the flames, he poured on more oil, making the beginning of spring blaze with heat.

When Chu Luoxi heard that Director Qiu had taken a group of leading actors and actresses onto various programs, and had even organized a small fan meeting where they distributed autographed posters of Empire, she was left speechless for a moment, torn between amusement and helplessness. She knew that Empire would certainly not disappoint its audience, but where had Qiu Xian found such overwhelming confidence?

For a time, the entire entertainment section was flooded with news about Empire. The coverage was utterly overwhelming. With attention of this magnitude, was there any need to worry about its ratings?

Sure enough, on the day Empire aired its first episode, the streets that were usually prosperous and bustling were noticeably quieter. It genuinely felt as if the entire city had emptied out. Even the phenomenon surrounding Auntie’s The True and False Princess years ago paled in comparison.

This was the reward for such intense publicity. The television station that had secured the premiere rights watched the ratings climb higher and higher, grinning so broadly that its executives nearly split their faces. They were even confident that they could bring home the year’s ratings championship.

Everyone had repeatedly overestimated Empire’s popularity and influence, yet when the moment actually arrived, they discovered that they had still underestimated it. It was like rain after a long drought, or water found in the desert. It was only a television drama, yet its popularity erupted like a volcano.

After being misled and disappointed for so long, viewers were utterly swept away upon encountering a drama they genuinely loved. They treated it like a priceless treasure and almost wished the station would air the entire series in one day, so they could indulge themselves to the fullest.

For that reason, the station airing the premiere changed the evening’s prime-time schedule from two consecutive episodes to three, pushing all its other regular programs later. Such a thing was exceedingly rare in the history of any television station.