The Heiress's Game

Zhou Bingwen worked in publishing for twelve years; he'd seen all sorts of monsters and demons.

He profited from the bubble in the variety show market from beginning to end, from the early days when satellite TV stations spent money to grab top IPs, to the later arms race among video platforms to acquire S+ projects.

Then, in the last two years, reality shows suddenly made a comeback—he sat in the office of the vice president of the distribution company, always one step ahead of everyone else in every wave.

So when his assistant placed the "Our Home" project proposal on his desk, he only flipped through three pages before laughing.

"Starlight Media." He pronounced the name as if savoring a cheap, unheard-of liquor. "When did this company appear out of nowhere?"

The assistant stood in front of the table, holding two other documents to be signed: "I checked, and it's a newly registered company with a considerable amount of registered capital, but it has no prior works."

The legal representative is a professional manager, and the controlling shareholder behind them is a multi-layered offshore structure, making it impossible to trace the actual controller.

Zhou Bingwen closed the project proposal, which featured a family photo of Chen Cui and her five children on the cover. The mother sat in the middle, surrounded by her five children, all dressed in simple but clean casual clothes, smiling at the camera in the main room of their old house.

The photos were well taken, and he even glanced at them a couple more times, but that was all.

"Apart from Chen Cui, who has some reputation, the rest are all complete novices."

He tossed the project proposal onto the corner of the table and leaned back in his chair.

"A brand new distribution company, a group of outsiders, and they're filming a never-before-tested subject—a family reality show. What is this if not just a hobby?"

"What did you say about the finished product they sent last week?" he asked.

"I've seen it, and to be honest—" the assistant carefully considered his words.

"The image quality is indeed not very good."

"Not quite right?" Zhou Bingwen chuckled.

"That's really not good. The whole film feels like watching a slightly more refined rural stage."

The argument was real, the crying was real, but the visuals, the lighting, the editing—I'd believe it if you told me it was a documentary filmed by the county TV station.

He picked up his teacup, took a sip, and added,

"What's the use of being good-looking? There's no shortage of handsome men and beautiful women in the entertainment industry. Any one of the girls queuing up for extras at Hengdian World Studios could easily score a 90 out of 100."

If good looks alone can carry an S+ project, then what's the point of having a production team?

After he sent his assistant away, he brought up the matter again when he was drinking with Zhao Mingyuan that night.

Zhao Mingyuan was an old acquaintance of his, a partner in another publishing company. The two would meet up every few days at that Japanese yakitori restaurant in the south of the city.

Zhao Mingyuan has also been looking at new projects recently. When Zhou Bingwen mentioned Xingyao Media, Zhao Mingyuan's chopsticks stopped in mid-air.

"A family reality show?" Zhao Mingyuan frowned as he swallowed the chicken cartilage.

Has anyone in China done this before?

"No, it never happened from beginning to end."

"That's innovation."

"What innovation?" Zhou Bingwen poured himself another pot of wine.

"Innovation means that you have a mature team, market-tested operators, and a platform willing to back you up before you dare to touch a theme that no one has touched before."

What do you think Xingyao has? A newly registered shell company and a bunch of production staff cobbled together from who-knows-where.

Who's behind this? It's true they poached two producers from Hunan TV, but there are tons of producers from Hunan TV, and more projects on the platform have flopped than succeeded.

In this industry, a good producer can make a project work, while a bad producer can ruin the whole thing.

To put it bluntly, even a wedding video edited by a roadside wedding planning company would have more variety show appeal than this first episode.

Zhao Mingyuan took a sip of his drink and thought for a moment: "But Chen Cui's face—"

"Face, face, you're judging people by their looks now, aren't you?" Zhou Bingwen tapped Zhao Mingyuan's wine glass with his chopsticks.

"I admit that Chen Cui is good-looking, and her younger siblings are all very capable."

But looks aren't everything. A beautiful face placed in a tacky, unfashionable scene will only make people feel that it's a waste of talent.

What do viewers watch for in variety shows? It's the conflict, the rhythm, and the hook that keeps them glued to the sofa for an hour, unwilling to change the channel.

If you give me a hundred minutes of rural drama right now, even if I want to see some melodramatic catfights, can I stand the scenes?

"Let me tell you, if this project succeeds, I'll eat this glass."

"When are you going to get rid of this 'poisonous milk' habit of yours?" Zhao Mingyuan shook his head with a smile.

"What if they suddenly ramp up their efforts? Are you aware of the pre-order situation on the platform?"

"I asked around," Zhou Bingwen said, his tone shifting from joking to leaning forward slightly.

"Of the three mainstream platforms, two rejected it outright, saying that the subject matter had not been verified and the risk of scheduling it was too high."

Another company said they were open to negotiation, but their offer was less than half the production cost, clearly indicating they were looking for a bargain. Do you know who rejected you the most decisively?

Old Zheng, don't you know that guy? He'll take any lousy project back and study it for three days, afraid of missing out on the next big hit.

This time, he watched the sample video for twenty minutes and then closed the link, replying, "I can't take it anymore."

Zhao Mingyuan paused for a moment after hearing this. Old Zheng was recognized in their circle as the "King of Finding Bargains," willing to gamble on any obscure topic.

If even he couldn't stand it, then it's not just prejudice; the finished film really has problems.

"Then why are they still filming?" Zhao Mingyuan asked.

"Who knows?" Zhou Bingwen picked up a skewer of chicken cartilage and chewed it twice.

"Maybe the boss has too much money to burn. It's the kind of company that's just starting out. They think that having popularity is everything."

But popularity comes and goes quickly.

How much of the online buzz surrounding Chen Cui, after the initial backlash and subsequent reversal, is still there? How many times have you seen her on social media? None.

The internet has no memory, but it is also not sentimental.

If you don't produce new content today, someone will replace you tomorrow.

If they really want to make this happen, they need to improve the visual quality by at least two levels, re-edit the rhythm, and completely wash away that incredibly tacky vibe.

But the question is, who will do it? Do those people at Xingyao have the ability?

Zhao Mingyuan poured the last bit of sake from the sake bottle into his cup and said slowly, "Don't generalize. What if they change teams?"

"Change teams?" Zhou Bingwen scoffed. "Do you know what the prices are for good variety show production teams these days? The top teams are booked until next year. Who would take a job from a new company with dubious origins?"

He raised his glass and clinked it against Zhao Mingyuan's. "Want to bet? If they can produce a second version of the finished film next month, with a significant leap in quality, this meal is on me."

Zhao Mingyuan finished his drink. "But to be honest, I'm a little curious. Outsiders who do variety shows either fail miserably or live outrageously."

Think back carefully, in our industry, which of those truly rule-breaking blockbuster products wasn't created by 'outsiders'?

Zhou Bingwen didn't reply. He finished the drink in his glass in one gulp, picked up his phone, and glanced at the unread messages in the industry group chat.

Someone is forwarding the first wave of promotional materials for "Our Home", with the caption "Chen Cui's family's amateur reality show is about to be launched, produced by the new company Xingyao Media".

There were three comments below, two with question marks and one asking, "What's the background of this?"

He turned off the screen and placed the phone face down on the table. Who cares what its origin is? With that kind of build quality, it's not going to cause any trouble.

I'd love to update every day, but this book is destined to be updated irregularly, hahaha, sorry everyone.