Chapter Forty-Four: An Unexpected Invitation

The explosive sales of Zhou Huimin and the Taiji Band’s albums were beyond Yan Xu’s wildest expectations. In just a single week, the thirty thousand copies originally ordered for each of them had completely sold out. Achieving gold record status within a week was rare—almost unheard of for newcomers. Yet even this quantity could not satisfy the market’s demands; album sales were still on the rise, with the manufacturing plant working overtime to keep up. At this rate, reaching platinum status was only a matter of time.

Although the record company took sixty percent of the proceeds from each album, leaving forty percent for the artist—with adjustments for top-selling singers—this sixty percent wasn’t all profit for the company; it also covered copyright fees, promotional expenses, production costs, and more. The management agency would then take thirty percent of the artist’s earnings. Each album sold for twenty-five yuan; after all the deductions, Zhou Huimin and the Taiji Band each pocketed about seven yuan per copy.

The first batch of sixty thousand albums sold out, meaning Zhou Huimin and the Taiji Band each earned over two hundred thousand yuan—an enormous sum for that era. Of course, the Taiji Band had to split their share among seven members, so each received just over thirty thousand. Should both albums reach platinum, their earnings would double.

These phenomenal sales left Yan Xu and Lu Guanting grinning from ear to ear. Their Dragon Clan Records had taken the industry by storm. On every major music chart in Hong Kong, songs from the two albums made the rankings. The Taiji Band’s “I Believe” held the top spot on the Hong Kong Radio Dragon-Tiger chart, with Zhou Huimin’s “Lonely Heartache” at second. On the Commercial Radio charts, “Lonely Heartache” and “Zhong Wuyan” by Zhou Huimin claimed first and second place, with the Taiji Band’s “I Believe,” “Stormy Red Lips,” and “Red Sports Car” following closely, sweeping the top five. On other song charts, both artists’ tracks consistently landed in the top three.

The film had finished its run, and Yan Xu received his share of the profits—far surpassing what he’d earned from “Butcher on a Rainy Night.” This time, Baizhan Film had struck a percentage-based deal with the theaters: fifty percent of the first week’s box office, forty percent for the second, and so on. By the old formula, thirty-five percent of the box office would yield about 6.9 million, but with the percentage split, the first week alone took in over nine million, netting more than 4.7 million for the studio. The second week brought in over five million, meaning another two million-plus; in just two weeks, they matched the usual thirty-five percent share. Adding in thirty percent of the third week’s three million and twenty percent of the fourth week’s one million, they gained another 1.4 million. Altogether, “Taxi Judge” brought Baizhan a total income of 8.2 million—just from Hong Kong.

Under the new contract between Baizhan and Yan Xu, he would receive thirty-five percent of profits (after costs) for box office under ten million, but sixty-five percent for any amount over that. This time, he personally pocketed over 4.3 million, instantly recouping his investments in two companies and a new property.

As for overseas distribution, being Hong Kong’s first Category III film, it would take some time; but that was no longer Yan Xu’s concern—he could leave everything to the company, including the distribution of related audiovisual products.

Brother Jiu from Baizhan’s film department was now managing Yan Xu’s new talent agency, having secured a ten percent stake as promised. He threw himself into the business, leveraging his connections to quickly build a respectable company with its own agents, assistants, and scouts spread across the city, while remaining nominally attached to Baizhan. At Baizhan’s film department, Bald Qiang had fully handed over operations to Chicken Feather, while the distribution division was run by Ghost Dong. Baizhan was developing rapidly; both men now held managerial titles, drew high salaries, and enjoyed considerable prestige wherever they went.

With Brother Jiu at the talent agency and Lu Guanting and his wife managing the record company, and so much cash on hand, Yan Xu’s days were exceedingly comfortable: money poured in until his hands cramped from counting it, and he woke naturally every morning without a care. The only disappointment was that Zhou Huimin, busy with promotions, left him little chance to chat up his favorite “little sister.” Instead, he idled around the office, flirting with the receptionists, joking with them, learning about music from Lu Guanting, and practicing guitar. Though his playing was far from perfect, he could now strum a recognizable tune.

Bored after chatting with the front desk girls, Yan Xu retreated to his office and leafed through a Gu Long novel. In this era, without computers or the internet, much of life’s entertainment was missing—no endless scandals or celebrity photo leaks—so only these martial arts novels could keep him entertained, especially since Gu Long himself would pass away this very year.

“Ah Xu, Ah Xu, we got it! We got it!” As Yan Xu envied Chu Liuxiang, who was always accompanied by three beautiful women and could slip away for adventures at will, the office door burst open. Very few people in the company would enter without knocking, but the excited voice belonged to only one person; Yan Xu didn’t even need to look up.

“What’s got you so happy, Ting? Did your environmental rally finally succeed?” Yan Xu teased Lu Guanting, who, besides his musical talent, was also a passionate environmentalist. His commitment to green principles was evident throughout Dragon Clan Records—everything was renewable and eco-friendly.

“The environmental rally is still under discussion,” Lu Guanting replied offhandedly. “But you know what I’ve been working on lately, don’t you?” He looked at Yan Xu with a hint of mystery.

“Aren’t you busy promoting Amin and the Taiji Band? So what did we get?” Yan Xu asked.

“You know about TVB’s Top Ten Golden Melody Awards, right?” Lu Guanting said.

“Of course,” Yan Xu nodded. The Top Ten Golden Melody Awards had only begun the previous year, but had already gained influence and authority in the music scene. Among the four major music award ceremonies, the Metro Hit Awards and the Ultimate Song Chart Awards had yet to launch. The Top Ten Golden Melody and Top Ten Chinese Hits Awards each dominated half the industry. However, their two albums had been released in January, so no matter how popular, they’d only be eligible for next year’s awards.

“The second ceremony is about to be held. I managed to secure a performance slot for our company—Amin has been invited as a guest performer,” Lu Guanting announced excitedly.