Love Variety Show: The despised me exploded in popularity

Hearing this, the agent couldn't help but touch his forehead.

"Brother Chuan, do you really have no idea how thin our studio's resources are? It's true what they say—'One never knows the cost of fuel and rice until one becomes a householder; a child who sells his ancestors' fields without regret.'"

"We've only just managed to save some money, and it's reserved for producing an album over the next half year."

An album is the foundation for a singer; no matter how many variety shows he does, or how much stage time he gets, it's all useless without a consistent output of work. His reputation will decline."

He knew very well that Lin Chuan could sometimes be too idealistic, so occasionally he had to be a bit harsher. Otherwise, the studio simply couldn't survive.

Throwing this claim out there, if the other party asks for too much in return, that would be the end of everything.

While the agent's heart was in turmoil and he was feeling anxious,

Xu Qingyan suddenly smiled and said.

"This song was originally written for you. With our relationship, why talk about a price? When I asked for your help with my sister's part-time job, I didn't discuss price with you either."

"That's different, this is your hard work," Lin Chuan insisted.

Hearing this, Xu Qingyan waved his hand.

"Making no money from it, how about two hundred thousand plus royalties? How does that sound?"

Two hundred thousand?

Lin Chuan was stunned. There wasn't a set standard for the cost of producing a song. It varied depending on the quality and the fame of the composer and lyricist.

Typically, a high-end custom song cost about five hundred thousand.

The cost of producing a song was usually under two hundred thousand. Foreign singers placed more emphasis on production costs and were willing to spend on both production and MVs, while it was the opposite in Xiaguo.

Major expenses weren't on composition or production but on promotion. The promotional cost had no limit and would usually account for thirty percent, sometimes even fifty percent, of the budget.

At first glance, two hundred thousand seemed expensive. But Xu Qingyan had produced eight hit songs in two months. Those outside the circle might not know him, but everyone within the circle knew of Xu Qingyan.

The circle was only so big. It's like touching a wire to see if it's live—you can tell right away if a song is good, just from the sample.

Honestly asking himself, "The Big Fish" could be the song he wanted the most. With all factors combined, two hundred thousand could even be considered a bargain.

These days, even a plagiarized pop song on the internet could audaciously ask for a price of sixty or seventy thousand.

What more for a fine work?

"Brother Xu, isn't that too low?" Lin Chuan asked. In truth, the price wasn't actually low; he was just being polite. Any higher, and he wouldn't be able to afford it.

Sure enough, when the agent heard Lin Chuan's comment, he almost fainted.

That's enough, rein it in, Brother Chuan.

"It's not low, there's also royalties," Xu Qingyan said, "Talking about money hurts feelings. I've always used this price; I'd worry that you might mind if I took less."

"Since you can accept it, let's go with this price."

The two settled on the price, then moved on to discuss royalties. Xu Qingyan took thirty percent of the songwriting royalties, which was just from the songwriting income, and not the total earnings of the song.

The deal was struck, successfully settling all matters.

Frankly speaking, this deal wasn't particularly profitable, but for Xu Qingyan, selling "The Big Fish" to Lin Chuan had long-term benefits far more valuable than money.

"The Big Fish"—if he kept it, no one else could sing it. It was better to sell it.

Moreover, Lin Chuan had indeed helped him a lot recently. If this song could help Lin Chuan climb another rung on the ladder, it would be beneficial for Xu Qingyan.

Money can't be earned in full, and he couldn't always rely on selling songs to make money. In the short term, it was profitable and quick cash. But in the long term, it was more likely to lead to a loss.

Good songs are in short supply, and the chance of overnight success is slim. If you want to earn money, you can't just rely on selling songs; you have to focus on the people.

On the way back,

Pei Muchan was sitting in the passenger seat and, taking advantage of a red light, she asked,

"Why did you suddenly decide to write a song for Lin Chuan?"

"... That song can only be sung by him; it's just wasting away otherwise," Xu Qingyan replied as he drove, "Lin Chuan is a good guy; I hope it can help him catch a break."

After the last experience, Xu Qingyan made sure to escort Pei Muchan up to her apartment before leaving.

The day after the Mid-Autumn Festival coincided with the National Day holidays.

The studio was bustling for a day then returned to a quiet state as the holiday continued. Xu Qingyan spent those days running back and forth, busily working on their individual albums.

It's the same old truth—a singer's roots lie in new works, and original creativity is the soul of a singer.

An album typically contains five to six songs but can have as many as a dozen or more.

Because of this, Xu Qingyan couldn't possibly handle all the album songs for both women by himself. The individual albums of both women added up to over a dozen songs, perhaps even twenty.

Such a massive workload would have him busy to the point of collapsing.

What's more, if he wrote all the songs, what would Pei Muchan and Lin Wanzhou do? Even a phoenix would become a caged canary if confined for too long.

If a singer loses the ability to create, it means they've lost the power to express.

The National Day holiday was halfway over.

Lin Wanzhou covered her head in the arrangement room, her face showing pain as she muttered, Explore more at empire

"Ah, why does your brain have so many inspirations?"

Initially, she was quite happy; she could see Xu Qingyan almost every other day. But after writing a song for the first time, she realized something was amiss. She felt completely overshadowed!

No matter what ideas she came up with, the songs she produced were always a step below his.

Every time Xu Qingyan opened his mouth, it was inevitably better material.

"Don't ask. If you ask, it's because I like to spend a little money, buying them from others," replied Xu Qingyan, sitting next to her and pointing at the computer, "We still have time, let's continue."

"I feel like I'm turning into a pig. Compared to you, I don't know how to write songs at all," Lin Wanzhou's head thumped down on the computer desk, "You write the songs. I don't want to do it anymore."

Xu Qingyan immediately shook his head in refusal, "A singer-songwriter can't lose their desire to express and create. They'll go to waste."