Chapter 25: Laoi Is a Treasure Trove of Ancient Romance Resources!

It takes an hour and a half to travel from the airport to the headquarters of Mammoth Media.

Inside the car.

Qian Jida’s expression was fierce, giving off the impression that he was about to unleash a tirade. In truth, ever since he received Zhou Wanming’s call yesterday, he’d been feeling anxious inside.

As a top agent at the company, he was well aware of the direction their strategy was headed. It wasn’t exactly abandoning Su Mu, but rather, this was something every artist had to face as their contract neared its end: the so-called operational strategy adjustment. All very dignified excuses, of course.

Unless Su Mu renewed his contract early and bound himself completely to the company, his resources would inevitably be slowly siphoned away. Those artists with ability might be able to set up their own studio after fulfilling their contract, but the ones who hadn’t made it, without connections or capital, would have no choice but to keep relying on the company. Even if they wanted to stop working for the company, they simply couldn’t.

It wasn’t that Mammoth’s methods were underhanded; this was simply the way entertainment business operated. No company was willing to watch the top-tier star they spent years grooming end up dressing up for someone else’s wedding.

Of course, there were exceptions—companies with a broader vision—but only when both sides trusted each other and their interests were mutually satisfied.

At this moment, the atmosphere inside the car was stifling. Even with a seat between them, Su Mu could sense Qian Jida’s anger.

Su Mu said, “Mr. Qian, don’t get worked up. I really don’t think it’s that serious. It’s just a period drama, right? Once I’ve worked with Director Zhang, won’t we have plenty of offers?”

“‘Not serious’?” Qian Jida shook his head, his stubble twitching in agitation. “I think it’s very serious! I can’t swallow this humiliation!”

Su Mu: “…”

Little Orange: “…”

Why did he suddenly call himself a woman?

Qian Jida continued, “You need to be more alert, Su Mu. You know how tough the entertainment industry is nowadays, don’t you? If you earn over a hundred million a year, you’re top-tier. A couple years ago, that number would've been at least ten times higher!

So, in this business now, it’s not about us and them; everyone’s on edge, and everyone’s a competitor! The moment you step away, someone’s ready to push you out and snatch your role. Is that how things should be?”

Su Mu gave a dry chuckle.

He understood exactly what Qian Jida was saying. The entertainment industry was profitable, but not nearly as lucrative as it used to be. Otherwise, so many celebrities wouldn’t be live-streaming, competing with internet influencers for a slice of the pie.

It was getting harder and harder to survive. If a top star couldn’t make over two hundred million a year, what was the point?

Su Mu said, “But ultimately, it’s Zhou Wanming’s decision. He’s still the boss. When we get to the company, we have to discuss things calmly.”

Qian Jida snorted, “I’m not angry at him—it’s Li Hui! I know that guy better than anyone. Always eyeing what’s not his, stealing resources from his own people. I bet it was him who pressured Zhou Wanming this time. And Zhou Wanming actually agreed? That’s blatant bullying!

Besides, you still have over two years on your contract, and you’re in your prime. Even if there’s an operational adjustment, it shouldn’t be now!”

Su Mu said, “Mr. Qian, if you think about it, this period drama won’t make us much money. At most, seven or eight million, and after fees and taxes, it’s barely worth the effort.”

Qian Jida replied, “But it’s not about money—it’s about our standing in the company. They can’t wait to use you to boost their newcomers. What does that say about their attitude toward me? Do they even respect me anymore?

You’re my artist! I’m responsible for everything about you. If you don’t earn, that’s on me. If your resources are stolen, that’s even more my responsibility!”

Listening to Qian Jida, Su Mu felt genuinely moved. Though Qian Jida usually acted flamboyant, even calling himself “old lady” when agitated, when it came to real issues, he showed the grit and responsibility of a seasoned agent.

For a star, choosing an agent wasn’t just about connections and PR skills. More importantly, the agent had to be reliable. Someone with integrity, a sound character, and the courage to take responsibility—those were the qualities of a good agent. Even if they skimmed a bit off the top, as long as it was within reason, it didn’t matter.

After all, in this society, aside from making money, what else is left?

Su Mu said, “Mr. Qian, calm down and listen. I’ve actually looked at this period drama. Honestly, it’s not something I must do. To be blunt, the company’s investment in this show is almost certainly going to flop.”

Qian Jida was stunned. “It’ll flop? What do you mean? Even if you act in it, it’ll flop?”

Su Mu nodded, unwavering. “Really. Trust my instincts about the market. I’ve specialized in period idol dramas for the past two years, so I know what audiences want.”

Qian Jida said, “Even with you, it’ll flop? That can’t be. Isn’t the trend now ‘sweet period romance’? The guy’s a prince, the girl’s a lowborn, they meet and fall for each other, showering the audience with sweetness—isn’t that it?”

Su Mu shook his head with a smile. “That was the trend a couple years ago. Sweet romance is important, but it’s no longer the core element.

I’ve read the script adapted from the novel the company bought. The plot is flat, completely uneventful, and the content is childish. Unless you have a top-tier star carrying it, there’s no real selling point.”

Qian Jida said, “...Go on.”

Su Mu continued, “Recently, audiences’ tastes for period dramas have risen. They want not just sweetness, but solid story structure. Without it, in the next year or two, no one will want to watch these brainless period romances.

So with this script, whoever takes the role is just a fool. It’s a single-platform exclusive web drama, so the traffic is already limited. There’s no point wasting time on it.

If I’m going to do a period romance, it has to be a major production with an absolutely compelling plot. Otherwise, these lukewarm shows are as tasteless as chewing wax.”

Qian Jida was left speechless by Su Mu’s analysis.

“You’re something else—the way you read the market is more professional than I am.”

Su Mu shrugged.

It wasn’t that he was particularly professional, but rather, after his past life’s experience of binge-watching countless period web dramas, he’d gained some insight.

Every year, period dramas were a mixed bag, from fantasy epics to divine battles. But the ones that truly swept the net and dominated all platforms were always multidimensionally excellent.

That meant:

The actors were handsome enough, the traffic strong enough, the romance was sweet or tragic or both, the script was solid with suspense and no plot holes, the villains weren’t idiots, there were no toxic daily scenes, the heroine was always pure, and the director and production team paid attention to detail.

Only by ticking off these eight or nine boxes could a drama stand out.

Otherwise, even with a massive fanbase, if you slapped Victoria’s Secret wings on it, the audience would still reject it.

Qian Jida said, “You’re right, but good scripts are rare. If there’s one or two in a year, that’s already amazing—and the competition is fierce.”

Su Mu just smiled.

Period scripts… aren’t there plenty of those?

If he really wanted, writing something like “Nirvana in Fire” would crush all those brainless romances.

Of course, those sticky-sweet fantasy dramas like “Jade Dynasty” or “Three Lives, Three Worlds” were good too…

If produced well, they could have those young ladies crying for a whole year.

Stealing my resources?

Su Mu sneered.

I’m a walking resource bank—are you going to compete with me?

Sorry, from now on, anywhere I, Su Mu, am in the period drama circle,

Everyone else will have to keep a low profile!