Back to 17, My Brother is the Cult Leader

Chapter 108 Permanent Copyright

The next day, Fang Yuan met Liu Cixin.

Liu Cixin is currently working at the Niangziguan Power Plant.

When Liu Cixin first contacted him, he was clearly surprised.

He was taller than Fang Yuan had imagined, rather thin, and wore ordinary metal-framed glasses.

He was wearing a dark blue jacket over a white shirt, dark gray trousers, and his leather shoes were dusty.

Fang Yuan met Liu Cixin at the entrance downstairs from the company building.

"Welcome, Teacher Liu."

"President Fang." Liu Cixin nodded.

The three of them got into the elevator. Li Xinyu followed behind, holding a folder in her hand.

I entered the office. Xiaomei had already prepared tea and placed it on the coffee table.

Fang Yuan invited Liu Cixin to sit on the sofa, and then sat down opposite him.

Li Xinyu sat on the chair to the side, opened the folder, but did not interrupt.

Liu Cixin glanced around the office, his gaze lingering on the large bookcase behind the sofa for a long time.

Fang Yuan smiled and gestured, then got up and led him to the bookshelf.

Looking at the rows of books, most of them were in English.

"These are all books I published. I put them here so that friends can come and take them if they like."

"Mr. Fang, actually, everyone in the industry admires you very much."

"What's there to admire? Domestic science fiction still has to rely on yours."

"That's because you didn't want to publish them in China. Your science fiction novels would be very popular if they were published in China."

""

"Domestic channels are inferior, and the royalties are too low."

"Yes, you're right," Liu Cixin said.

Fang Yuan didn't exchange many pleasantries and went straight to the point.

"Teacher Liu, I invited you to Beijing today to discuss something."

"Your works, film and television adaptation rights. I would like to purchase the perpetual film and television adaptation rights to all your published and unpublished works, including all future works."

Liu Cixin picked up his teacup, but didn't drink from it, and then put it down.

"All works? Including those yet to be written?"

"Including those that haven't been written yet."

Liu Cixin remained silent for a few seconds.

He's not the type of person who haggles at the negotiating table.

The other party's terms were indeed beyond expectations.

Fang Yuan didn't rush him. He knew the weight of this request.

The combination of the words "permanent," "entire," and "future" indicates that this is not an ordinary copyright transaction, but rather the transfer of an author's entire creative career.

"Mr. Fang, may I ask what you plan to do?"

Liu Cixin shifted his gaze from his teacup to Fang Yuan. "With so many works, you can't possibly film them all."

"Just because we can't make it now doesn't mean we can't make it in the future," Fang Yuan said. "The fact that 'The Wandering Earth' can't be made now doesn't mean it can't be made in ten years. In twenty or thirty years, someone will make it."

As long as there are people involved, and the copyright is in our hands, we can launch it whenever we want.

Liu Cixin looked at Fang Yuan.

"Moreover," Fang Yuan continued, "the adaptation period for your work is not something that can be completed within ten years."

The technology, funding, and market that they require will take Chinese cinema at least another twenty years to absorb.

We acquire the copyright first, not to monetize it immediately, but to establish a foothold in this field.

A good science fiction film cannot be made in one or two years.

"Mr. Fang, I understand what you mean. But I have a question. How much are you offering?"

Fang Yuan glanced at Li Xinyu.

Li Xinyu took a document out of the folder, placed it on the table, and pushed it in front of Liu Cixin.

The document's cover bears the words "Copyright Purchase Agreement," with the smaller print below stating "Perpetual Film and Television Adaptation Rights—"

All works.

"One million RMB. This includes all your published short stories, novellas, and novels. Copyright fees for future publications will be discussed later. In addition, you will receive 5% of the net profit from any successful adaptation of your work."

This ratio is at the highest level in the entire industry.

The contract is for permanent use. It's a one-time buyout; no further renegotiation is required.

The office quieted down.

The window was ajar, and the breeze blowing in from outside made the edges of the curtains sway gently.

Liu Cixin picked up the document, but didn't open it; he just held it in his hand and felt its weight.

He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the cover, then spoke.

"Mr. Fang, other people have asked about the adaptation rights to my works before, but no one has asked for all of them at once."

I've never signed a contract like this before. I need to think about this.

Fang Yuan did not urge him.

Liu Cixin remained silent for a few minutes, slowly tracing circles on the rim of his teacup with his finger.

"Mr. Fang, I have another question." He put down his teacup. "Why do you believe my future works will also be worth filming?"

Fang Yuan paused for a moment, then slowed down his speech.

"Teacher Liu, each of your works, such as 'The Wandering Earth,' 'The Rural Teacher,' 'The Chinese Sun,' and 'The Micro Era,' constructs a world system of different natures."

"The Wandering Earth" is about taking the Earth with you, that's about survival; "The Rural Teacher" is about the inheritance of civilization, that's about faith.

"The Chinese Sun" is about ordinary people driving history, and that is progress.

These systems share a common foundation: a profound concern for reality and a resilient human nature.

Those who are used to writing space operas wouldn't know how to construct this kind of structure.

Your work possesses a consistent quality, rather than being inspired by impromptu creations.

This is tied to a person's knowledge base and their respect for the logic of how the world works.

It didn't come from nothing. Therefore, I believe your future works will be no worse than today's.

Liu Cixin looked at Fang Yuan and remained silent for a long time.

He opened the document and looked at it page by page.

Li Xinyu was about to explain the terms when Fang Yuan raised his hand, preventing her from speaking.

About ten minutes later, Liu Cixin closed the file and placed it on the table.

"Mr. Fang, I'll sign."

Liu Cixin picked up a pen and signed his name on the last page.

Li Xinyu put the signed documents into a folder. Fang Yuan stood up and extended his hand.

Liu Cixin stood up without saying anything more.

Fang Yuan saw Liu Cixin downstairs. Fang Yuan said, "Professor Liu, I'll have Li Xinyu take you to the station."

"No need to see me off, I can take the subway myself."

Fang Yuan did not persist.

He watched Liu Cixin walk out of the hall, his back disappearing through the revolving door and around the street corner.

In early September, Beijing was still sweltering, and the sunlight made the sidewalks appear white.

Fang Yuan turned and went back to his office. Li Xinyu had already locked the contract in the safe.

She asked, "Mr. Fang, do you really think his work can be filmed?"

Fang Yuan sat down at his desk, picked up the sample copy of "The Wandering Earth," flipped through it, and placed it on the desk.

"It's not a question of whether it can be filmed or not. It's a question of whether it's worth it. No matter how much you spend on the rights, you can earn it back tenfold or a hundredfold later. And it's not just about making money."