"There's profit to be made here. I thought this would just be a money pit, but after a week, the daily active users are still holding steady at around 250,000. Registered users have stabilized at 17 million," Fei Ge analyzed from a financial perspective. "How much money can this make? Not bad, not bad at all."
[Orange Home] itself wasn't a direct revenue stream, but the registered user base and daily activity meant announcements, concerts, and other events could be promoted at minimal cost.
The expenses for software operation and server leasing were offset by the savings in marketing convenience—at least, that's how Fei Ge saw it.
"Brother Chu is different from those other stars who don't plan ahead. Take Liu Pei, for example—he's in his thirties and still has no long-term strategy," Fei Ge scoffed.
"Fei Ge, let's not talk like that. We're all under the same company," the network operations manager quickly interjected.
Right now, Chu Zhi was Taiyang Chuanhe's top star, but Liu Pei was still the former number one—even a broken ship has some nails left.
"At first, I didn't understand why we added a 'study room' feature to the app, but now I get it. It increases the app's value even further," Fei Ge mused, increasingly impressed by Chu Zhi's foresight.
The study room was a pre-built feature that had been cut before [Orange Home]'s launch—a smart move, since you shouldn't reveal all your cards at once.
That said, Fei Ge's perspective was still a bit narrow. Chu Zhi was building a personal brand, and having his own fan app was a major advantage.
"Fei Ge, Douyin agreed," the deputy advertising manager suddenly announced.
"Making money isn't easy. That move to South Korea was brilliant—otherwise, these capitalists wouldn't have loosened their grip," Fei Ge sighed, exhausted from the negotiations.
Douyin, with its massive influence, had already signed a slew of celebrities as "Chief Operating Officer," "Chief Recommendation Officer," "Chief Discovery Officer," and so on—seven or eight in total, all A-listers.
But Chu Zhi's deal was even bigger. He wasn't just another "Chief Something Officer"—he was Douyin's official spokesperson. Initially, Douyin had been torn between him and the visual member of a certain K-pop group.
Why did female idols dominate short videos? Because Douyin's user base skewed toward "precious metals" (code for thirsty viewers), giving girl groups a natural advantage.
But after Chu Zhi's storming success in Korea, Douyin finally caved:
[1-year endorsement fee: 30 million RMB.
Official account operation fund: 18 million RMB.
Signing bonus: 2 million RMB.]
Half a billion RMB wasn't free money, though. Douyin had demands—like the official account operation fund requiring at least three short videos per month for a year.
"The tables have turned. Before, Korean stars came to steal our endorsements. Now, we're stealing theirs," Fei Ge gloated as Douyin sent over the draft contract.
"Uh, Fei Ge… there's something I'm not sure I should say," the deputy advertising manager hesitated.
"Then don't," Fei Ge shot back bluntly.
"…Alright." The deputy manager swallowed his words, feeling as uncomfortable as holding in a fart.
"Tables have turned"? More like Chu Zhi is the exception. Everyone else is struggling. The deputy manager sighed inwardly. Last year, when Chu Zhi was mired in scandals, he didn't even make the top 20 on Forbes China Celebrity List. This year, he'd probably take the top spot.
With enough star power, money came fast—especially for a top-tier celeb like Chu Zhi. Before the Douyin contract was even finalized, South Korea was already throwing cash his way.
MBC TV, notoriously stingy, offered 1 billion KRW (about 5 million RMB) for the three-year Korean broadcasting rights to the nine MVs from 25,117 Possibilities.
If Niu Jiangxue hadn't been plotting a "counterattack on the Korean peninsula," they'd never have accepted such a lowball offer.
This wasn't quite a fire sale, but it was close to giving it away for free.
Cultural influence worked subtly. Even Chinese viewers who'd never watched Korean variety shows had seen their formats—Infinite Challenge, I Am a Singer, King of Masked Singers, We Got Married—all MBC productions, later adapted by Chinese networks.
MBC had made a fortune selling formats to China but rarely spent money importing Chinese content. This 5 million RMB was practically their first time seeing returns from China.
A few million wasn't much for Niu Niu's team, but for MBC's procurement department, it was a hefty sum.
In Korea, TV stations held absolute power over local celebrities. Letting your MV air was considered an honor—if they didn't make you drink in gratitude, you were lucky. Asking for payment? Dream on.
Because they'd actually paid, the stingy network was extra invested in promoting the content. Two days of hype, ads during prime-time shows:
"China's mega-star Chu Zhi—10 million fans! The Demon King's MVs return to Korea!"
Nine MVs, totaling 42 minutes, were edited by MBC's post-production team into a 67-minute special. Beyond Korean subtitles, they added celebrity reaction segments—a clear nod to Japanese variety formats, letting viewers see both the content and stars' responses.
The broadcast slot? Quiz to Change the World—not quite prime time, but still a solid silver-tier slot.
"Ah, ssibal! Does our great Korea lack outstanding works? Why import that wild dog's trash?"
The familiar impotent rage came from none other than MBC's infamous PD, Myung Nam-jik. Under his leadership, the network had been vocally anti-Chu Zhi.
Now they were airing the Chinese star's MVs? Even split personalities weren't this extreme.
"PD Myung," Secretary Choi knocked and entered.
Sensing the tension and his boss's foul mood, Choi quickly blurted out for self-preservation: "PD Myung, President Yoon wants to see you in his office."
President Yoon? Myung Nam-jik's anger stalled. His brain short-circuited. "Why would President Yoon want to see me?"
"I'm not sure, but he seemed urgent, so PD Myung, you should…" Choi's trailing words were obvious.
"Urgent? Then why the hell didn't you lead with that?!"
Myung straightened his potato-like appearance in his office's full-length mirror and rushed to the president's office.
President Yoon, one of MBC's three vice presidents, oversaw procurement and MBC.FM4U.
"President Yoon," Myung bowed respectfully.
"PD Myung, the network has a project for you," Yoon cut straight to the chase. "Understanding Chinese Stars: Special Edition. You'll be the PD."
Understanding Chinese Stars: Special Edition—wasn't that just the MV broadcast? Myung's face turned ashen—no, green.
Seeing his hesitation, Yoon's tone darkened. "What? Is this assignment beyond PD Myung's capabilities?"
"N-Not at all! It's just… half a month ago, our network publicly criticized that Chinese star. Now, suddenly—"
Before he could finish, Yoon cut him off sharply: "Fool! Chu Zhi disrespecting seniors has nothing to do with us airing his MVs!"
"My apologies, President Yoon. I was being stupid," Myung hurriedly backtracked, his mood crashing.
"Chu Zhi's MVs have 2 billion clicks on Chinese platforms. Do you even comprehend how big that is?" Yoon's voice rose, spittle flying in his excitement. "This is a 1 billion KRW project, PD Myung. Are you saying you can't handle it?"
"Understanding Chinese Stars: Special Edition will be a massive success! I guarantee it, President Yoon!" Myung declared loudly.
And so, the situation became: You hate me, but you still have to work with me to build the new China…