This producer has no bottom line.

The phone call ended, and the busy tone went off.

Dapeng leaned closer. "What did he say?"

Ren Pingsheng didn't answer. He stood at the hotel entrance, holding his phone, with only that one sentence running through his mind.

She's only with people for money—do you think that's fair to rich people?

This is not a casual question.

A person with 500 million yuan in pocket money is evaluating someone who makes videos for the "poor." He is testing Ren Pingsheng's underlying logic—is he just an opportunist selling resentment towards the rich, or does he genuinely understand something?

"Brother Peng, you go back first."

"what?"

"I have something to take care of."

Da Peng glanced at him, wisely refrained from asking further questions, patted him on the shoulder, and left.

Ren Pingsheng sat down on the steps at the hotel entrance, took out his phone, and opened the text message editing interface.

The cursor blinked for three minutes. He deleted two versions and finally left only four lines of text.

"Mr. Wang, let me answer your question."

"That statement is certainly unfair. But fairness is not an obligation of content creators. Consumers pay to watch content not for fairness, but for emotions."

"But the real question you should ask isn't whether it's fair or not, but rather—why did 100 million people fall silent after reading that sentence? It's not because they hate rich people, it's because they hate themselves."

"The losers don't curse Wang Dachui, they curse Wang Duoyu in the mirror."

send.

The phone screen went dark, reflecting his own face.

In his past life, he had seen too many peers who used resentment of the rich as a code for gaining popularity, making quick money but also dying quickly. Wang Sicong had seen even more. If his answer remained at the level of "low-class economics," he wouldn't get the three million.

But that's not what he's betting on.

He was betting on a 21-year-old rich kid who must have been looked at with strange eyes during his years studying in the UK.

The rich are no less lonely than the poor; it's just that no one films or shows it to them.

Ten minutes passed, and the phone didn't ring.

Twenty minutes passed, and still no sound.

Ren Pingsheng stood up, dusted off his pants, and hailed a taxi to return to the company.

He didn't look at his phone again on the way. He had said what needed to be said; the rest was beyond his control.

It was already 7 p.m. when I got back to the office area, and only Sister Zhao was still keeping the desk lamp on.

"I've revised the data report and added semantic analysis of user comments." Sister Zhao placed the USB drive on his desk.

"Sister Zhao, you said you'd be with me today, have you thought it through?"

"I've thought it through." Sister Zhao's tone was calm, as if she were discussing what to have for lunch tomorrow. "I've been at Sohu for eight years, and my employee number is among the top 500. But the first thing Alex will do after taking over is to take stock of the fixed assets, and the second thing will definitely be to transfer personnel files. At my age, being laid off and having to find another job is less appealing than taking a gamble with you."

"It's not gambling, it's an investment," Ren Pingsheng said, putting the USB drive into his pocket. "Sister Zhao, your industry resources and production experience are worth an option."

Sister Zhao paused for a moment.

"How many?"

"Three percent, to be paid out in installments over four years."

Sister Zhao didn't say anything, but Ren Pingsheng noticed that her lock screen wallpaper was a picture of a primary school student, a boy, who was smiling with a missing front tooth.

A 42-year-old single mother, she has been working at Sohu for eight years, and the numbers on her paycheck have never given her a good night's sleep.

Three percent may not sound like much, but if Wanhe Tianyi reaches the scale Ren Pingsheng remembers from her previous life, that three percent would be enough for her son to study from elementary school all the way to studying abroad without worry.

"OK."

In short, it was decisive and efficient.

At 11 p.m. that night, Ren Pingsheng stared blankly at the ceiling in his rented room. There were still no new messages on his phone.

He turned over and forced himself to sleep.

The next morning at 10 a.m., Ren Pingsheng was sitting at his workstation revising the script when his phone vibrated.

It wasn't a text message, it was a phone call.

An unfamiliar number, but the caller ID shows it's from Beijing.

"Mr. Ren, this is Liu Lei, Mr. Wang's assistant," the voice on the other end of the phone was very professional. "Mr. Wang asked me to tell you three things."

Ren Pingsheng sat up straight.

"First, he read your text message from yesterday."

"Secondly, he agreed to the investment in principle, but the amount and shareholding ratio need to be adjusted."

Ren Pingsheng tapped his finger lightly on the table.

"Three million, fifteen percent."

It's not twenty, it's fifteen.

Ren Pingsheng's first reaction was not joy, but vigilance. Actively lowering his shareholding meant the other party was inflating the valuation.

The valuation rose from 15 million to 20 million.

A company that hasn't even been registered yet was valued at 20 million by a 21-year-old rich second-generation.

This isn't charity; it's escalating the stakes. Escalating the stakes means higher expectations, and higher expectations mean even harsher betting clauses.

"And the third one?"

"Third, Mr. Wang said he thought about your text message from yesterday all night, and there's one sentence he disagrees with."

Which sentence?

He said that the losers weren't cursing Wang Duoyu in the mirror, but rather the person who made the mirror.

The phone hangs up.

Ren Pingsheng held his phone for two seconds, then smiled.

The person who made the mirror was himself.

Wang Sicong said: I know you are manipulating emotions, but I don't care, because manipulating emotions is a business in itself, and you are the best person I have ever seen at doing this business.

The investment has been finalized.

Ren Pingsheng immediately dialed Da Peng's number.

"Brother Peng, the money has arrived."

"How many?"

"Three million, fifteen percent."

There was a five-second silence on the other end of the phone.

"Fifteen? Less than twenty, which you offered?"

"right."

"Then wouldn't that mean... a valuation of twenty million?"

"right."

Da Peng's voice suddenly rose eight octaves: "Damn it! Ren Pingsheng, are you hiding something from me? What kind of spell did you cast on him?"

"The company registration is tomorrow. Bring your ID card, and the shareholders need to be present to sign."

"Wait, wait, wait! Let's get this straight first. What percentage of the company do I own?"

"Fifteen percent, the same as Mr. Wang."

"The same amount?" Da Peng's tone changed, carrying a seriousness Ren Pingsheng had never heard before. "Pingsheng, are you giving me the same proportion as you're giving him?"

"You are a co-founder, he is a financial investor; the nature of your relationship is different."

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

After a long while, Dapeng finally spoke, his voice a little muffled.

"Okay, see you tomorrow."

After hanging up the phone, Ren Pingsheng turned on his computer and created a new folder.

Name: Wanhe Tianyi.

He looked at those four words and took a deep breath.

In his previous life, Wanhe Tianyi rose and fell because of Xiao He, ultimately fading into mediocrity due to the disintegration of its core team and the influence of capital. In this life, he will not repeat the same mistakes.

My phone vibrated again; it was Sister Zhao.

"Alex just came by with people from the legal department. They want to check the copyright ownership documents for all the projects in the innovation team."

Ren Pingsheng's fingers paused on the keyboard for a moment.

coming.

Alex couldn't wait until November 1st; he wanted to act ahead of time. Once the copyright ownership was checked, if it could be proven that the IPs of "Unexpectedly" and "Men's Diary" belonged to Sohu, Ren Pingsheng wouldn't be able to take anything with him when he left.

But Ren Pingsheng's lips curled up slightly.

When he registered the "Life Story" account, he used his personal identity. Although all the videos were first released on Sohu, he never signed any content copyright transfer agreement.

When Gong Yu was around, no one paid attention to these details.

Now, these details are his life.

"Let him investigate," Ren Pingsheng replied to Sister Zhao with four words, "He won't find it."

He turned off his phone, stared at the four characters "Wanhe Tianyi" on the screen, and the image of Alex's ashen face after searching through all the filing cabinets flashed through his mind.

Then he opened his browser and searched for a term—

Wanda Group, Investment Department, Contact Person: [Contact Information]

The three-million-dollar contract had to be signed within three business days. Because by the end of October, he needed to leave Sohu cleanly, with all his people and all his leverage, before Alex could make his move.

The phone vibrated one last time.

Wang Sicong's message consisted of only one line.

"Next time, if you make a film about a rich person, I'll double my investment."