Chapter Three: Truly Lost in Delusion

With Xu Ming’s interruption, the prototype of "No Money Problem" was completed two days earlier than in the previous life.

The Spring Festival Gala censors glanced over the content and, finding nothing sensitive or vulgar, quickly gave it the green light.

After all, they couldn’t really bar Uncle Benshan from the Spring Festival Gala stage, could they?

There was no need for the entire nation to get involved; the chief director would make them take the fall themselves.

The next day.

Xu Ming stepped out of the rehearsal room as one call after another came through.

“Hello, Sohu Entertainment? Sorry, 11,000 yuan per episode for ‘Loser Gentleman 2’ just won’t sell.”

“Ku6? Five thousand one per episode? Thanks, but no thanks.”

“12,000 per episode, I know it’s quite high, let’s talk again after the New Year.”

He ended the call from Sina Entertainment. All were aiming for the online premiere rights of "Loser Gentleman 2" that he held.

Though Xu Ming was a minor figure in the entertainment industry, he was undeniably the god of comedy online.

The first season of "Loser Gentleman" had amassed over fifty million views across the internet and was still climbing, sparking a cultural phenomenon known as the “loser culture.”

Netizens no longer called themselves grassroots; instead, they proudly identified as “losers.”

Out of three hundred million internet users nationwide, at least a third had watched or heard of "Loser Gentleman." The premier video site Youku even broke even for the first time through pre-roll advertisements.

Every aspiring video platform aiming to go public had set its sights on this lucrative prize.

Yet the offers remained conservative.

After all, these days a star-studded drama’s online premiere rights fetched only about three thousand yuan per episode. The award-winning "Golden Marriage," for example, only reached twenty-one thousand per episode in its second season next year.

For Xu Ming, such money was barely worth a crumb; he certainly didn’t treat his show like mere sustenance.

Though each episode was just fifteen minutes and cost less than five thousand yuan, with staff and equipment all at Benshan Media’s discounted rates—excluding his own salary—the guest stars mostly played cameos.

At most, they spent ten thousand yuan inviting the Japanese star Aoi Sora to join as a guest. She agreed without demanding a fee upon learning it wasn’t an adult film, only asking for her airfare and accommodations.

Of course, if he sold the rights, it would be to all platforms simultaneously. Profit was guaranteed; the difference was only how much.

The phone rang again. Xu Ming casually answered, “‘Loser Gentleman 2’ isn’t for sale yet, we’ll talk after the New Year.”

“What’s this loser show you’re selling?”

The voice on the other end was unmistakably from home—his mother.

“Work stuff, Mom. What’s up with your call?” Xu Ming asked.

“When will you be home for the New Year? Your father and I are already tidying up your room,” she said.

“I won’t be coming back. I’m on the Spring Festival Gala stage, yes, with my master. When the time comes, tell everyone to gather in front of the TV and watch your son’s grand performance,” Xu Ming chuckled.

Though the Spring Festival Gala would later be criticized, at this point it was still at its peak, vibrant and prestigious.

Any artist who made it onto that stage could write it proudly into their family history.

More calls from his fellow apprentices followed.

Some congratulated him with envy, others with jealousy so bitter it seemed they might bite through their own teeth.

Xu Ming replied uniformly that he followed the master’s arrangements entirely, and besides, the comedic burden lay with Yadan; he was just a supporting role.

Believe it or not, that was the truth.

When the caller ID showed Xiao Shenyang, Xu Ming’s heart skipped a beat.

Though the other party was unaware of the opportunity he had missed, as an insider, Xu Ming felt somewhat uneasy.

“Brother Shenyang, what’s up?”

“Congratulations, I heard the master brought you to the Spring Festival Gala.”

“Just luck. If you and Wang Xiaoli hadn’t collided with the censors, it wouldn’t have been my turn. Besides, this time the master is really pushing Yadan.”

Xu Ming calmed himself as he spoke. He owed this guy nothing and had no reason to feel guilty.

In the previous life, such a great chance fell to the other, and it was wasted; he never took the reins of Benshan Media. It was better this way, with himself in charge.

What is given by heaven and not taken, is a curse in disguise.

“Yeah, just one step short. I’ll have to settle for the Beijing TV Spring Festival Gala,” Xiao Shenyang sighed, then changed the subject, “By the way, there’s a commercial performance on New Year's Day. Ten thousand yuan per person for one song. They specifically want us to sing together—interested?”

Normally, he would charge thirty thousand per gig, and during the New Year season, maybe fifty thousand.

Xu Ming rarely did commercial gigs, so a ten-thousand-yuan fee per person was a big boost. Xiao Shenyang was riding on the coattails of the more successful, so naturally, he modestly lowered his tone.

In fact, this price was not low. Tu Honggang only earned sixty thousand per show this year, and the skyrocketing star Wen Zhang just forty thousand.

Hong Kong and Taiwan artists generally commanded higher fees, with the top three—Cheng Long, Liu Dehua, and Zhou Naicha—each charging one million yuan per appearance.

“You’re not going to the Beijing Spring Festival Gala?” Xu Ming asked in surprise.

“No big deal, just taking a little free time,” Xiao Shenyang said nonchalantly.

“Have you told the master?” Xu Ming pressed.

“It’s just a commercial gig, not a big deal. No need to ask for permission,” Xiao Shenyang replied.

That was arrogance—no, he had swollen with pride to an excessive degree.

But considering his hard years, Xu Ming understood.

Back in the day, he performed on the Scala stage, having to play effeminate roles and clowns daily, earning little and forced to drink heavily to keep up appearances.

When filming "Mr. Guandong," wearing black-rimmed glasses and shorts, he was nothing at Benshan Media.

If anything, his life improved only after Xu Ming coaxed him into singing "My Good Brother" together, earning money through gigs and regaining dignity.

“You haven’t told the master because you’re not around, right? I’ll talk to him later,” Xu Ming said firmly.

At this critical moment, he didn’t want such a small matter to ruin his big opportunity.

Xiao Shenyang was noncommittal. Honestly, he looked down on Xu Ming’s timidity. If he had a work like "Loser Gentleman," he would have gone independent and made a fortune long ago.

What he didn’t realize was that without the backing of Benshan Media, where would his stage and resources come from?

Xu Ming knew well that to stand firm in the entertainment world without biting the hand that feeds, he needed his master’s protection.

Thinking he could make it on his own after leaving the safety net was a joke.

Returning to the rehearsal room, Xu Ming opened the door to find his master chatting with a burly man—none other than Cheng Long.

“You want to play here?” Uncle Benshan asked with a smile.

“Of course, I want to play with you and follow your lead,” Cheng Long replied.

Laughter filled the rehearsal room. Cameras were set up all over, all focused on the two.

Watching their camaraderie, an unspoken thought rose in Xu Ming’s heart: a true man should be like this.

And there was an unspoken addendum: one day, he could take their place.