Chapter Sixty-Nine: Irresistible!

Rental Apartment.

Chen Qi received another call from Zhao Qingqing.

The first thing she did was share the good news: in less than thirty-six hours, “Wanwan” had already surpassed ten million clicks.

The enthusiasm from the online audience was overwhelming, and their humble team suddenly became the focus of intense curiosity, with people everywhere trying to dig up information about them.

Perhaps sensing a business opportunity from this fervor, several entertainment media outlets had reached out to request interviews.

Just like the advertisers, unable to find Chen Qi’s contact information, they all ended up going through Simple Video.

“Interviews? I’m not going,” Chen Qi refused without hesitation.

He didn’t even need to be asked to guess what those reporters wanted to know. It was nothing but the usual bland questions—how did he come up with those plots, was the rough production due to a lack of investment, were there plans for a sequel, and so on.

He had no interest!

At this stage, it was best to maintain a little mystery.

At the end of the call, Zhao Qingqing brought up the subject of a sequel again.

“So many people love this show. It’d be such a pity not to make a sequel,” she said.

“I really don’t have any plans for a sequel,” Chen Qi replied, half amused, half exasperated.

Why make a sequel?

There were countless classic works from Earth; he didn’t need to squeeze every last drop out of this series!

Who said that a successful project must have a sequel? He wouldn’t do it.

No sequel!

Absolutely not!

Seeing how firm he was, Zhao Qingqing didn’t press the issue.

After hanging up, Chen Qi did feel he should open a Weibo account.

Without one, it would be difficult to develop future plotlines…

With that in mind, he immediately downloaded Weibo onto his phone and registered an account. After thinking it over, he called Bai Xiaoke and Zhao Wu as well, telling them to register and get their accounts verified.

To his surprise, they already had Weibo accounts.

“Just get them verified, then. That way, fans who like you can find you more easily. If you need any documents, just ask Mr. Xu directly.”

“Alright.”

Neither Bai Xiaoke nor Zhao Wu had any objections. Ever since learning he had his own independent studio, Chen Qi’s status in their eyes had risen several notches. And now, with “Wanwan” a blazing hit, it was no exaggeration to say their admiration for him was as boundless as a river.

Weibo’s efficiency was impressive; shortly after Chen Qi submitted his verification documents, he received a confirmation text.

He casually posted his first message: “Hello everyone, I am Chen Qi.” Then, with interest, he explored the app’s features.

Hmm, it was simple and intuitive—almost identical to the Earth version.

A few minutes later, just as he was about to log off, he noticed some numbers on his notifications. He clicked out of curiosity and saw comments under his post.

“Chen Qi? The one from ‘Never Expected’?”

“Is this real or a fake?”

“Looks like a new account—just registered?”

Most of the comments were questions or expressions of doubt.

Since he’d seen them, Chen Qi replied casually.

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m that Chen Qi from ‘Never Expected.’”

As he responded, that same user immediately commented again: “Whoa! I didn’t notice the verification badge—so it’s really you!”

“Haha, I can’t believe I actually found you by searching! ‘Never Expected’ is so hilarious—my whole dorm was in stitches!”

“I admire you so much! When is the sequel coming out?”

“Why is your following list empty? Is there a Weibo for Wang Dachui?”

“I have just one question: how did you come up with those cross-dressing ideas?”

Perhaps because they had confirmed it was really him, the previously quiet comments section suddenly became lively. In just half a minute, a dozen more comments appeared.

“There’s no sequel planned.”

“You come to my Weibo looking for Wang Dachui—have you considered my feelings?”

“Cross-dressing… that really needs an explanation. Mainly, the crew was too poor and the budget was too tight! Anyway, I’ll never work with such a broke crew again, so you really shouldn’t expect a sequel.”

After replying a few more times, Chen Qi was about to log off again. But just then, he received two private messages.

One was from an advertiser, sincerely expressing a desire to collaborate. The other was from a reporter, politely requesting an interview.

Chen Qi glanced at them and exited Weibo, heading to prepare lunch.

He hadn’t gone out much the past couple of days, spending most of the time planning his next steps.

His goal of building publicity had been smoothly achieved, and now he was debating what kind of program to produce with Simple Video.

As lunch was ready and he was about to eat, Xu Bunian called.

“Want to grab a meal together?” Xu Bunian asked.

“No, I’ve cooked for myself and am just about to eat,” Chen Qi replied, ladling soup into his bowl while waiting for Xu to get to the point.

He knew Xu wouldn’t call just to invite him to a meal; there had to be something more.

In this world, Xu Bunian probably knew him better than anyone else—he understood Chen Qi’s dislike for socializing, so unless there was something important, he rarely bothered him.

“Oh,” Xu replied, and being so familiar with Chen Qi, he didn’t beat around the bush. He got straight to the point.

“It’s like this: over the past two days, several advertisers have contacted me, mainly to ask if we have plans to produce a second season of ‘Never Expected’…”

Hearing this, Chen Qi couldn’t help but pause.

He wasn’t surprised that advertisers were inquiring about a second season; what surprised him was that Xu Bunian would call specifically about this.

It was expected that advertisers would reach out to Xu Bunian—after all, Future Film was also a producer of “Never Expected.” They couldn’t reach Chen Qi, but it was much easier to contact Future Film, and Xu had connections in the industry.

But back when they were filming at Future Film, he’d made it clear there would be no sequel. Why was Xu calling about it now?

Based on what he knew of Xu Bunian, Chen Qi had a hunch this matter wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

“I told the earlier advertisers clearly that there wouldn’t be a sequel, but then a few others came along—maybe they’d heard something—and they immediately offered three hundred thousand for a single pre-roll ad…” Xu paused for two seconds, then continued, “I thought that was a pretty high price, so I wanted to see what you thought.”

“How much did you say?” Chen Qi, in the midst of ladling soup, suddenly froze.

“Three hundred thousand! For one opening ad—like ‘Sponsored exclusively by Chen Qi Studio’ or something,” Xu explained.

Chen Qi’s jaw dropped in shock.

Three hundred thousand?

For a five- or six-second opening ad, they were willing to pay three hundred thousand?

He found it hard to believe.

Was it really that easy to earn money from advertisers?

Three hundred thousand for one pre-roll ad—for ten episodes, that’s three million! If you add the end credits, that’s six million!

That’s more than winning the lottery.

Chen Qi stood there, stunned, unable to recover for a long time.

This was the first time he truly realized just how enormous the value of quality content could be.

But… wasn’t this a bit much?

If this project was handed over to an established team, wouldn’t its value be even greater?

Chen Qi put down the ladle and forced himself to calm down.

Three hundred thousand…

And that was just the first offer. If they really negotiated, the price could go even higher.

He had to admit, the number was tempting—even someone with no plans for a sequel like Chen Qi was wavering.

After a not-so-fierce internal debate, he made up his mind.

He’d do it!

Why turn down easy money? He needed it now more than ever.

The tens of thousands he’d earned from Blueprint were almost gone after paying for office rental, renovations, and producing “Never Expected.” Although he’d just received fifty thousand transferred from Simple Video, after taxes and splitting with Xu Bunian, there wasn’t much left.

He still needed to buy office furniture, computers, and invest in new projects in the future…

He needed money!

He’d make the sequel.

As for all the hints he’d dropped about there being no sequel… well, he’d just pretend he’d never said anything.

“Mr. Xu, have you assigned any work to Bai Xiaoke and the others recently?” he suddenly asked.

At this, Xu Bunian was delighted and quickly replied, “No, they’re available!”

“Good, get them ready—we’ll start shooting the second season immediately.”

“Alright!” Xu Bunian was overjoyed.

“Mr. Xu, you handle negotiations with the advertisers. I don’t know much about these things and don’t have the time.”

“No problem, that’s my specialty,” Xu agreed without hesitation.

Negotiating with clients was what he did best.

“Then announce that we’re preparing to shoot a second season,” Chen Qi outlined his plan.

He intended to make fifteen episodes for season two, with each episode’s opening and ending ad priced at five hundred thousand!

Only opening and ending ads—no in-episode product placements.

“Five hundred thousand?” Xu was a bit surprised at the price. “Isn’t that a bit high?”

At that rate, just from ads, the second season would bring in fifteen million! For a newcomer, such advertising revenue was staggering.

“It’s not too high,” Chen Qi shook his head. “Quality content is worth it.”

“Alright!” Seeing Chen Qi’s confidence, Xu didn’t argue further and carefully jotted down his requirements.

“Also, all ad placements must be at my discretion—no custom requests. Make that clear to them: if they accept, we’ll take the deal; if not, so be it.”

“Got it!”

“Release the news and test the market’s response. Meanwhile, I’ll start working on the scripts for the first few episodes.”

“No problem.”