Chapter Eleven: Lu Xun: I Did Say Those Words

The conference room was oppressively silent.

What Xu Ming said touched upon an area beyond their knowledge, leaving them utterly lost.

If it were a discussion about suona or erhu, that might have been manageable.

But variety show production?

The room was filled with hardly any college students, and even fewer high schoolers...

“It sounds simple when you say it, but is it really that easy to invite a team? Why would they listen to your arrangements?” Liu Shuangping was somewhat flustered.

He had been managing Benshan Media’s personnel, mainly because there were no professionals available.

Within the media company, it was mostly Uncle Benshan’s word that went unquestioned; as president, loyalty was valued more than competence.

“Why wouldn’t they listen? Are there any other comedy shows nationwide? If they want exposure and a stage, they have to participate. They should even be grateful to us because we’re the ones making the cake,” Xu Ming said, turning to his master and speaking loudly.

“Moreover, given Master’s status in the comedy world, I believe even if someone objects, no one dares to speak up.”

“Most importantly, as the industry leader in comedy, Benshan Media must embody the spirit of a trailblazer. If there’s no stage, we create one; if there’s no cake, we bake one.”

He knew well that despite all the talk about media and management, it was ultimately Master Benshan who made the decisions.

His words struck a chord deep within Uncle Benshan’s heart.

If Uncle Benshan only cared about himself, there would be no need for Benshan Media. In the early days, the company mostly operated at a loss—why? It wasn’t charity; in the end, it was about power.

He might remain low-profile in the future, but right now, at the peak of his influence, if he lacked ambition, the phrase “After crossing Shanhaiguan, find XXX” would never spread.

“Xiao Ming has a point. We can’t always be content with picking up leftovers from others. There’s a saying: with great power comes great responsibility. While looking out for our own, we also have to contribute to the industry’s development,” Uncle Benshan declared, setting the tone clearly in favor of Xu Ming.

Liu Shuangping opened his mouth but swallowed his retort.

Everyone knew their boss’s mindset.

“Does anyone else have any thoughts?” Uncle Benshan looked at his disciples.

They all shook their heads; even the least savvy among them understood that more stages meant more benefits.

Not only did they not oppose it, but they also felt grateful to Xu Ming.

“That project is settled then. Xiao Ming, you explained everything thoroughly; you’ll be responsible for liaising with Liaoning TV. You’re capable, so more work for the capable,” Uncle Benshan said.

On the surface, he was placing a burden on Xu Ming, but it was also an opportunity for him to grow and be entrusted with more authority.

Liu Shuangping became president in 2007, and Xu Ming became an apprentice that same year.

In terms of closeness, Xu Ming had formally bowed in apprenticeship and signed an eight-year contract, gaining good rapport among the disciples.

For the group’s stability, balance had to be maintained.

“Thank you, Master, for your trust. I won’t let you or my brothers down,” Xu Ming said, bowing slightly.

This was an unexpected delight; he had only presented the “Happy Comedians” plan to stir things up within the media company.

“Even if we do it online, it won’t conflict with offline tours. I think both can be done simultaneously. I believe Xu Ming sacrificing some personal rest time for the media company is acceptable, right?” Liu Shuangping said in a low voice.

“Of course it’s a problem. I can sacrifice for the media company, but I won’t make meaningless sacrifices,” Xu Ming sneered. “I’m popular this year; people like watching me. But what about next year? Your attitude is disgusting—it’s like you’re afraid I’ll lose my heat and stop making money, so you want to milk me dry while you can.”

“We’re a media company. Do you understand what that means? We look at long-term development. Filming a ‘Country Love’ series might not earn as much as Master does through commercial performances in the same time, but it drives the entire company’s growth.”

“By next year, the year after, five years, even ten years from now, this IP will continue generating profits. Do you understand what an IP is?”

He didn’t know exactly how many nationwide tour dates had been planned for him, but he guessed it wouldn’t be few.

He didn’t oppose milking the cash cow, but he opposed being the cow.

“So, all this talk boils down to you not wanting to tour, just looking out for yourself,” Zhang Jiahao said.

“Hey, you’re not wrong. Who here doesn’t look out for themselves? If you’re so selfless, don’t take a salary or be vice president—go clean toilets. It’s easy to speak without pain standing on the sidelines,” Xu Ming said brazenly, nodding.

The surrounding brothers nodded in agreement, giving him thumbs-up in front of a few others.

They all came from the bottom, fiercely fighting for every bit. Talking about sacrifice and dedication sounded like nonsense to them.

Frankly, joining Benshan Media was like finding a patron; the monthly earnings were like protection money paid upward.

With Xu Ming raising the protection fees, naturally, some would feel sorrow at the fox’s demise when the rabbit dies.

“How many shows are scheduled for the tour?” Uncle Benshan asked.

“Actually, not that many...” Zhang Jiahao mumbled, trying to evade the question.

Uncle Benshan looked at Liu Shuangping, who hesitated but then said, “One hundred thirty-three.”

The room drew in a collective sharp breath, as if the air grew warmer.

There were 365 days in a year, and Xu Ming was scheduled for 133 shows—not counting other activities.

This was treating a person like livestock.

No wonder Xu Ming reacted so strongly; if it were them, they would have revolted long ago.

Even Xu Ming smirked a little at the absurdity; it was like they had found a sheep to shear to death.

Looking at it this way, it was no surprise that Xiao Shenyang had fallen out with the company.

Thankfully, Xu Ming was savvy; otherwise, once trapped in this pit, escape would be nearly impossible.

“Remove the leading ‘1’—make it 33 shows,” Uncle Benshan said.

Before this was clearly stated, he could turn a blind eye. But since it was brought up openly in the meeting, it couldn’t be ignored.

Otherwise, how could he continue as their master? Which disciple would trust the company or him?

“This...” Zhang Jiahao was reluctant; they had calculated that milking Xu Ming this year could bring in at least two hundred million yuan.

A hundred fewer shows would not look good on the books.

“Are my words useless in the media company?” Uncle Benshan glanced sideways at Zhang Jiahao, whose forehead broke out in cold sweat.

“Yes,” Zhang Jiahao replied.

Uncle Benshan then looked at Xu Ming and asked, “Any more questions?”

“I’ll follow Master’s decision,” Xu Ming promptly conceded.

He hadn’t expected to avoid it entirely, and a reduction of a hundred shows already met his expectations.

Master Lu was right: if you want to break through the roof, first tear off the ceiling—this way, others are more willing to compromise. Truth be told.

Lu Xun: I really said that.