Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]

A popular microblogger named "Riding a Little Donkey" posted a blog a few days ago: 【What’s the most outrageous thing you’ve ever encountered?】

This is a common tactic used by influencers to attract followers. Even if the topic doesn’t go viral, it can still encourage fans to actively comment. Once the number of comments under the post reaches a certain level, the blogger selects the most outrageous and eye-catching comments, screenshots them, arranges them into a nine-square grid, and creates a new post full of highlights.

The strategy itself is sound. The problem is that "Riding a Little Donkey" has recently seen a decline in traffic, with the number of fan comments dropping sharply. It’s been almost a week, and he’s only managed to gather a little over two thousand comments.

People love to flock to popular posts. The more viral a post is, the more eager people are to comment. Conversely, the quieter a post is, even if someone stumbles upon it while scrolling, they’re less likely to leave a comment or hit the like button.

This lukewarm situation has left "Riding a Little Donkey" feeling helpless. Nevertheless, he still opens the comment section, going through each comment one by one, trying to find the nine most explosive ones among the two thousand or so comments.

In real life, "Riding a Little Donkey" is named Wu Yun. An ordinary name, an ordinary appearance. He doesn’t know how other influencers made it big, but he’s well aware of his own situation. He doesn’t have a natural sense of humor, nor does he have the confidence that comes from being well-read. All he can do is strive to do his best, to put in the utmost effort, and to improve the quality of his posts as much as possible to attract attention.

For example, right now, with over two thousand comments, Wu Yun is reading through them while taking screenshots and making detailed notes. His notes are categorized by factors such as popularity, how engaging the comment is, the likelihood of making people laugh, whether it has the potential to go viral, and if the potential is significant enough, and so on.

When his eyes start to hurt, he takes a break, then continues. Because of the extensive note-taking, Wu Yun has been at it from 9 PM until 2 AM. Even though, as a freelancer, he’s used to staying up late, it’s well-known that staying up late playing games is very different from staying up late working.

Wu Yun is completely drained. His state of mind has shifted from “The moon doesn’t sleep, I don’t sleep, I’m a diligent little treasure” to “I want to cultivate immortality, see you in the ICU.” But procrastination is a major taboo in his line of work. Although he really wants to stop and rest, he knows that if he stops, he won’t be sleeping—he’ll just be procrastinating and fooling around. So, he grits his teeth and keeps working.

It’s in this half-conscious state that a long comment with an attached image suddenly catches his eye.

A user named "A Flower by the Roadside" commented: 【I’ve got to speak up on this one! I never leave comments, but today I just have to share this! It’s too long, so I’ve put it in a memo and attached a screenshot! You’ll understand once you read it! It’s seriously outrageous!】

The screenshot reads: 【Here’s what happened. I love reading novels, and there’s one novel I absolutely adore. I joined the reader group for it, and everyone in the group chats and jokes around every day, which is pretty fun. The novel is being adapted into a TV series, and we’re all worried it might ruin the original story. Our joking around turned into a discussion about crowdfunding the series—like, everyone pitching in 50 cents to pick the actors they want for the roles. There’s this really lively girl in the group who’s always super vocal about it. Let’s call her S.

S’s favorite character in the book is a guy named Qin, and she’s always calling him “Brother Qin.” The actor originally cast to play Qin had to drop out due to scheduling conflicts, and S got really worried. Since filming had already started, she was afraid the production team would just pick someone random and ruin Brother Qin’s image.

Here’s the kicker! One day, she said she saw a guy at a pancake stall who looked just like Brother Qin. We all egged her on to get his WeChat. Two days later, during our crowdfunding jokes, S joked that she had invested 10 million and the production team agreed to let her pick the actor for Brother Qin. We all joked along, but no one took it seriously.

Then, two days after that, S suddenly posted a photo of a handsome guy asking if he looked like Brother Qin. She said it was the pancake stall guy, and she had signed him. We all thought it was just a random photo she found online, so we played along and said he looked like Brother Qin. She then said in a relieved tone: “Then he’s the one. The director said the pancake guy is a great actor. I’m sure he can capture Brother Qin’s essence.”

Sounds like a normal joke, right? But here’s the twist!! That very night!! The production team officially announced that the pancake stall guy would be playing Brother Qin!!

And the craziest part? Before this, the pancake stall guy was a complete nobody. No one had ever heard of him!! Which means S had to be telling the truth to get that photo!

We were all stunned!!

Everyone started frantically tagging S. When she finally responded, she was just as confused, saying she had been updating us all along. She even said it was her first time signing someone, so she had been asking for advice.

Outrageous, right? Outrageous!! We were all just joking, but she went ahead and did it for real!

And—we were even seriously advising her on how much to pay the actor, telling her the salary she offered the pancake guy was too low. Ahhh!! Is this the difference between a rich fan and a regular fan like me? I’m over here begging the director not to ruin the adaptation, while the rich fan drops 10 million to cast someone who perfectly fits the character.

Ahhh, this is probably the most outrageous and envy-inducing thing I’ve ever encountered! But I guess it’s also lucky, because at least the book I love has S, a super fan, making sure it’s done right. It’s outrageous but also so satisfying hahahaha】

This comment is incredibly long, even as a screenshot in a memo. But Wu Yun’s eyes light up as he reads it. He may not have the natural instinct for chasing trends that some influencers do, but after reading this lengthy screenshot, he can’t help but feel a sense of vicarious satisfaction.

Even though the protagonist isn’t "A Flower by the Roadside," he still feels the thrill.

He has a hunch that this comment could bring him massive traffic.

With that thought, Wu Yun’s spirits lift, and all traces of drowsiness vanish. He grabs a pen and starts analyzing:

Hot topics: Entertainment industry, wealthy people

Engaging points: Plot twist, wealthy fan protecting the original work

Conflict: Original fans vs. adaptation

Satisfaction level: 99%

Wu Yun slams the pen down, his eyes gleaming. Based on his experience, this comment has all the makings of a viral hit. If he gives it a little push…

“Let’s do it!!”

The next day at noon, during peak traffic hours, Wu Yun, who had stayed up all night brainstorming and was now overly excited, uploads a new post.

No nine-square grid this time—just this one long, detailed comment.

The caption reads: I declare this the most outrageous comment of all. Just one question: Is this for real?

Tempted by the potential for massive traffic, he abandons his usual cautious approach and decides to take a gamble. If he loses, he’ll just waste a few days and some money. But if he wins, this explosive topic could bring him a huge surge in followers.

After posting, he clicks on the promotion tab, grits his teeth, and spends money to boost the post.

Once everything is set, Wu Yun feels less nervous. He tosses his phone aside and lies down to sleep.

His sleep is restless, filled with nightmares. He dreams that the post he pinned his hopes on doesn’t go viral at all. Instead, it’s met with silence and harsh comments criticizing the declining quality of his content.

Wu Yun wakes up at 10 PM, still feeling like he’s in a dream. After a second, he bolts upright and grabs his phone to check the backend of his Weibo account.

A few seconds later, deafening laughter fills the room.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—”

In the midst of his laughter, his mother, who keeps a regular schedule, yells from the next room: “Wu Yun!!!!! It’s the middle of the night! Do you want a beating?!!!!!”

Wu Yun immediately clamps a hand over his mouth, but he can’t help letting out a few quiet giggles.

As he’s giggling, Sheng Quan is also browsing "Riding a Little Donkey’s" Weibo. She can’t see the backend data, but the frontend stats are enough.

This is the fastest-rising post in "Riding a Little Donkey’s" history. In just ten hours, it’s garnered an impressive number of clicks and comments. It’s easy to imagine how much hotter it’ll get after a few more days of fermentation.

Sheng Quan taps her phone: “The results are slightly worse than I expected.”

Late at night, Yu Xiangwan was still working overtime, dressed impeccably. Every part of his outfit was neatly ironed, without a single wrinkle. Even his hair was meticulously styled, making him look all the more like a cultured yet cunning individual.

He swiped to the PowerPoint presentation on his screen, which displayed various solutions: "If you want the hype to grow further, perhaps we could consider buying retweets. I've asked ten influencers related to this topic about their rates for reposting blog posts. Here's the price list."

"The price list for trending topics that you inquired about earlier is on this page. Based on past data analysis, it's most appropriate to buy a spot around the 15th position for this kind of topic. It won't seem too deliberate, and it can still attract a lot of traffic."

That's right, this was all orchestrated by Sheng Quan.

Even the account "A Flower by the Roadside" was selected by Yu Xiangwan from his collection of alternate accounts. As for why someone as refined and meticulous as him would have an account called "A Flower by the Roadside"—well, who in this line of work doesn't have a few throwaway accounts specifically for leaving comments?

Perhaps because the entertainment industry's ecosystem was slightly more harmonious than in Sheng Quan's previous life, the methods for hyping up promotions were relatively limited. At the very least, the tactic Sheng Quan was using now had likely never been seen before.

Even though her previous job wasn't in entertainment promotion, as a professional "melon eater" (someone who follows celebrity gossip), the marketing strategies she had observed while indulging in gossip were more than enough for her needs.

She felt that the results were a bit underwhelming, but Yu Xiangwan believed the outcome was already quite surprising. "Riding a Little Donkey" must be over the moon right now.

In the entertainment industry, there's such a thing as overnight fame, but that usually happens after a work has been released.

Building a skyscraper without a foundation is, as you can imagine, incredibly difficult. No matter where you are, being noticed and liked always requires a reason, especially in the fiercely competitive entertainment industry, where beauty is abundant. Relying solely on looks isn't enough.

But Sheng Quan was determined to promote Yan Hui, who didn't yet have a proper work to his name, and Yu Xiangwan was fully committed to supporting this endeavor. He said, "The current progress is already quite good. I suggest we let the hype simmer for a while before pushing further. The effect will be even better."

Sheng Quan smiled. "You're right. It's better to take things step by step."

She wasn't in a hurry, but 006 was.

"Host, time is running out for you."

Sheng Quan remained calm. "Don't worry. Everything needs a proper buildup. Do you watch dramas? I'll turn on the TV for you."

How could 006 not worry? It really liked its host. This was its first time being a system, and all its knowledge about systems was extracted from novels. But it had never seen a host in any novel quite like its own.

Sheng Quan would chat with it, take it shopping for clothes, play TV dramas and movies for it, and sometimes even appreciate beautiful people together, ranting at the screen about the heartless scriptwriters.

Sheng Quan had even lent her account to 006, giving it permission to post its own reviews online.

So while Sheng Quan wasn't in a hurry, 006 was. If it weren't for the fact that 006 couldn't take the next step on its own, it would have gladly opened a backdoor to extend Sheng Quan's life, given how her lifespan was dwindling day by day.

Unfortunately, it was Sheng Quan who had to complete the tasks. 006 couldn't understand the complexities of human thinking. In its mind, why not just throw money at the problem? It's not like the host was short on cash!

Sheng Quan was quite skilled at calming 006 down. She took it out to watch a night shoot, and sure enough, 006 was soon completely absorbed in the beauty of the actors.

Despite Wan Bao's scruffy appearance, his aesthetic sense was truly exceptional. It's just that he had never had the funds to fully realize his vision before. Now that he had sufficient resources, the first thing he did was hire several makeup artists and stylists, and all the main characters' costumes were custom-made.

Don't get the wrong idea—he wasn't aiming for high-end fashion. Instead, he tailored the outfits to fit the characters' requirements, ensuring they not only matched the setting but also enhanced the characters' charm within that framework.

For example, Yan Hui's character, Qin Heng, was a police officer. The custom-made police uniform was largely similar to those of the era in real life, but the details were adjusted according to Wan Bao's vision. While the overall look was the same, when Yan Hui wore it, he looked undeniably handsome—the kind of handsome that perfectly matched the character's righteous demeanor.

Tonight's scene was a farewell.

When Sheng Quan and the others arrived, the soft, dim lighting illuminated the scene. A man in a crisp police uniform stood quietly, willow catkins drifting in the air above him. The light and shadows played across his face, conveying a gentle sadness.

When he turned to look amidst the flurry of willow catkins, it was enough to tug at everyone's heartstrings, including 006, who had a soft spot for beautiful people.

Sheng Quan was also moved, but she was quickly brought back to reality by Wan Bao, who was watching the monitor while frantically gesturing to the crew to scatter more willow catkins.

She thought to herself, "..."

The scene was indeed beautiful, but it would have been even more perfect if not for the crew members standing on ladders, each holding a bag and tossing handfuls of willow catkins downward.

"Cut—"

After Wan Bao happily called "cut," Qin Heng, who had just been "resilient yet tender, tender yet sorrowful," sneezed and quickly ran out of the flurry of willow catkins. He carefully removed his police uniform and then began patting and rubbing himself to deal with the irritation.

Seeing him flustered, Sheng Quan quickly realized that the willow catkins had gotten inside his clothes.

She stepped forward to help pat him down, but the costume and makeup crew, who had been about to assist, immediately backed off.

The young investor was now the most important person on set. If she wanted to help personally, they weren't going to get in her way. Rumor had it that Sheng Quan was a fan of the original novel, so who knew if she might develop feelings for the actor because of his role?

Sheng Quan noticed Yan Hui's arms were already turning red. "This won't do. There's too much. You should go take a shower."

Yan Hui shook his head. "Thank you, Ms. Sheng, but I'll pass. We have another scene coming up, and I need to use this time to get into character."

What a tough guy. With the way the crew had been scattering the catkins, he must be itching all over. To endure that and still stay in character—he was truly a wolf (a play on the Chinese internet slang for someone who is exceptionally tough or ruthless).

As Sheng Quan was thinking this, a willow catkin floated to her nose, and she couldn't help but sneeze. This made her admire Yan Hui even more.

She had only been exposed to a few catkins and already sneezed, but Yan Hui had been covered in them and still managed to deliver a flawless performance until the director called "cut."

Seeing that he had caused Sheng Quan to sneeze, Yan Hui quickly took a few steps back. "Ms. Sheng, I'll handle this myself. I don't want the catkins to bother you."

Before Sheng Quan could respond, a tall figure suddenly appeared in front of her.

It was the quiet, burly driver. "Ms. Sheng, let me handle this."

Without waiting for a reply, the driver stepped forward. Facing the stubborn willow catkins that would float back down no matter how many times they were brushed away, he pulled out what appeared to be a pet hair remover and began effortlessly picking the catkins off Yan Hui's clothes.

Sheng Quan thought to herself, "The driver is as reliable as ever... but why does a tall, silent driver have a pet hair remover?"

Come to think of it, she had forgotten to assign an assistant to Yan Hui. After all, she wasn't originally from this industry, so it was easy to overlook small details.

When Sheng Quan was younger, she used to think it was cool for actors to have assistants. But as she grew older and became a "melon-eating" enthusiast, she gradually learned that most well-known actors had assistants. For actors with significant roles, not having an assistant could make daily life quite difficult. For example, if Yan Hui's clothes were filled with willow catkins, it would be hard for him to deal with it alone.

And this was just a modern drama. For period dramas, the wigs, heavy costumes, and other elements would make it even harder for actors to manage on their own. Add to that the challenges of filming winter scenes in summer and vice versa, maintaining a diet that differs from the crew's, and so on, and the importance of an assistant becomes clear.

While crew members would usually try to help if an actor didn't have an assistant, not every crew was accommodating, and there were always moments when they couldn't provide enough support. Even when they did, the crew was usually swamped with work, so it wasn't fair to burden them with extra tasks.

After understanding this, Sheng Quan immediately decided to get Yan Hui a few assistants. She couldn't let such minor issues hinder his career development.

Oh, and a manager too. Although her company was just starting out, as someone backed by a funding system and determined to make a mark in the entertainment industry, the company's growth was inevitable.

As for what kind of assistants and manager to hire, and the details of their salaries and benefits—those were trivial matters she didn't need to worry about.

Sheng Quan only needed to give the order, and Yu Xiangwan would naturally handle it for her.

Yu Xiangwan's efficiency was truly impressive. Sheng Quan had sent him a message late in the evening, and since he had previously worked on many film sets and had extensive connections, finding a few assistants who were competent, had suitable personalities, and met the salary requirements wasn't difficult for him. By noon, he had already found three assistants—two men and one woman—each with their own responsibilities, and had negotiated their salaries.

Moreover, it seemed he had taken Sheng Quan's preference for good looks into consideration. While the three assistants weren't stunningly attractive, they were all quite pleasant-looking, the kind of people who make you feel comfortable just by looking at them.

Since Sheng Quan had emphasized that quality was the priority and salary wasn't an issue, after the contracts were signed, Yan Hui's three assistants rushed over immediately. The latest one arrived by 9 p.m. that same night and jumped straight into work, following Yan Hui around during the night shoot, attentive and considerate, and incredibly enthusiastic.

Yan Hui was overwhelmed by the attention. Even the female lead, Lin Aike, couldn't help but feel a little envious: "Yan Hui, your company is treating you so well, sending you so many assistants, and they're all so meticulous and dedicated."

The three assistants thought to themselves: With salaries 20% higher than the industry average, how could they not be meticulous and dedicated?

Besides, they weren't personally contracted to Yan Hui but were instead employed by Starlight Company. Sheng Quan had also mentioned that they were still in the probation period, and once that was over, their salaries would increase. There would also be year-end bonuses, and they had full benefits, including social insurance and housing funds. In the underpaid and overworked world of celebrity assistants, landing such a stable and well-paying job was nothing short of a stroke of luck.

In the real world, working professionals are pragmatic. With good pay, great benefits, and room for growth, only a fool wouldn't give their best.

With the three of them diligently taking care of him, Yan Hui, who had been overwhelmed by the intense filming schedule, quickly realized the benefits of having assistants. At the same time, he felt even more overwhelmed by the generosity.

Yan Hui had always handled everything himself in the past. During winter shoots, after filming a scene where he fell into water, he had to walk a distance to find his clothes. In summer, even when heat rashes broke out, he had to endure until the shoot was over before tending to them. Even after being signed by Sheng Quan, he had already been incredibly grateful for the contract terms and had never imagined having assistants.

After all, even Lin Aike only had one assistant, yet Sheng Quan had given him three in one go.

Sheng Quan's response to this was: "You need to understand that you're an actor. Your time should be spent on your craft. These trivial matters aren't for you to worry about. You just need to focus on improving yourself, and the company will handle the rest."

—Focus on your career and don't get distracted. Work hard and earn me those career points, young man~

Yan Hui was momentarily stunned, and his already gentle eyes softened even further. Did Sheng Quan really trust his abilities so much?

He responded softly, his heart filled with gratitude: "Alright, thank you, Sheng Quan. I'll work hard."

How could there be such a kind person?

No suppression, no traps, just focusing on ability. As long as the actors performed well, everything else would be taken care of. This was almost like a dream company in the entertainment industry.

When he called his mother that evening and she asked how he was doing on set, whether he was overworking himself and not getting enough sleep, and reminded him to take care of his health, Yan Hui, who had always been reserved, found himself talking more than usual.

Everyone on set was very kind to him, his clothes were always clean, and the company had assigned him three assistants. All he had to do every day was focus on acting, which he loved, and he didn't have to worry about anything else.

"Sheng Quan said she's signed me up for acting classes and physical training. Once this drama wraps up, I can start attending them. The company is already arranging my next project. They're really investing in me, Mom. You don't have to worry about money anymore. Sheng Quan said I can get an advance on my salary, so it's definitely enough."

"Good, good..." Yan Hui's mother kept nodding on the other end of the line. "We've met a true benefactor. If only I hadn't charged her for that pancake that day. Yan Hui, they're investing so much in you. You must repay them properly, understand? Don't be like those celebrities in the news who jump ship as soon as they become famous. Sheng Quan might not care, but we must remember this kindness."

"Don't worry, Mom. I remember."

Yan Hui didn't say much more to his mother. He was a reserved person, and even if he felt immense gratitude, he wouldn't express it in words but through actions.

After hanging up, Yan Hui's nose tingled with emotion, and he realized his eyes were slightly red in the mirror.

He hadn't cried during the countless hardships and moments of despair he'd endured over the past ten years, but now, tears had come.

Yan Hui smiled as he wiped his eyes, recalling how Sheng Quan had laughed while helping him brush off willow catkins earlier that day. He then turned back to his script, practicing in front of the mirror.

He was eager to repay Sheng Quan, to be as helpful to her as Yu Xiangwan was. But as an actor, all he could do was focus on his craft.

Yan Hui forced himself to calm down and concentrate on his practice.

Take it step by step, Yan Hui. As long as you work hard to improve and perform every role well, you'll be able to bring value to Sheng Quan and repay her.

Meanwhile, Sheng Quan, who was out enjoying a massage with her driver, heard a notification from the system:

[Ding! Yan Hui's favorability has exceeded 80. Note: The system will no longer announce favorability once it surpasses 80.]

Sheng Quan took off her eye mask: [Wow, it seems Yan Hui really likes those three assistants. Not bad, not bad. Make a note to give them a bonus at the end of the year.]

As she enjoyed her massage, she pulled out her phone.

It was indeed a double celebration.

On Weibo, the hashtag #WhatItFeelsLikeToHaveAFanWhoIsARichFanOfTheOriginalWork was also starting to gain traction.