Chapter 47: Zhao Tiantian Sent Another Message Again
Chapter 47: Zhao Tiantian Sends Another Message
Zhao Tiantian’s attitude was sincere, repeatedly insisting on paying him; in truth, he could have compromised and accepted just 150,000 yuan. More importantly, he wanted to hear how the song had turned out—after all, if it was released, his name would be credited for the lyrics and composition.
“No problem. When I say 300,000, I mean 300,000. I’ve done several albums before, each making 300,000, but none of those songs compare to the one you wrote for me. So in my eyes, it’s worth more than 300,000.”
Zhao Tiantian spoke honestly. Over the years, hadn’t she been wronged enough? But this 300,000 yuan, she truly believed it was worth every bit.
...
That afternoon, a call came from an unknown number, but Li Jingkun was in class and missed it. After class, he returned the call; it was indeed Sister Zhang, Zhao Tiantian’s manager. They arranged to meet that evening at a nearby café by the school.
Li Jingkun arrived on time; Sister Zhang was already there. She was a woman in her early thirties, exuding a serious and capable aura.
Most men often fail to pick up on others’ moods, which is why many girls complain, “I was in a bad mood that day, but my boyfriend just didn’t notice, wouldn’t comfort me!” In reality, most men lack that skill. Those who do are usually either trained by their professions, serving all kinds of people and honing an acute perception, or they’ve encountered enough women to develop it naturally.
Having been there a while, Li Jingkun didn’t sense anything off; he thought she was simply a serious person. Besides, he hadn’t been paying close attention unless selecting actors or admiring beauties, when he’d study faces more carefully.
“Are you Sister Zhang? I’m Li Jingkun, Zhao Tiantian’s junior...” he began.
“I know. Just call me Manager Zhang. Don’t know what kind of coffee you like; I just ordered one for you,” she replied.
“That’s fine; I rarely drink coffee, anything’s okay.”
“Do you want to see the contract now?”
“No need. I heard the song’s already recorded. Could I listen to it?”
Sister Zhang took an MP3 player from her bag and a brand-new headphone cable—still sealed from the package. Li Jingkun appreciated her thoughtfulness and plugged it in. The song playing was “Hello, Tomorrow.”
He pressed play.
Since Zhao Tiantian had paid a premium, Li Jingkun had been considerate enough to detail the musical arrangement and instrumentation to ensure high fidelity. Essentially, the production work was done; if the accompaniment team followed his notes strictly, the result would be consistent.
Listening now, the effect was indeed good, closely matching the original. Zhao Tiantian sang earnestly, but due to her vocal skills, the overall impact was slightly less powerful than the original. However, it was vastly better than her previous songs.
“Not bad,” Li Jingkun said, removing the headphone cable and handing the MP3 back to Manager Zhang.
“Not bad?”
Manager Zhang frowned but said nothing, quietly taking the device. She then produced two copies of the contract and a bank card. “Here’s the song licensing contract—two copies, one for each party. This bank card contains the full 300,000 yuan; the password is six ones. The bank is right next door if you want to verify.”
Only now did Li Jingkun feel something amiss. That sounded less reassuring than Zhao Tiantian’s earlier insistence.
What did she mean by “you can verify at the bank next door”? Sister, your big star insisted on this price, and I was the one ready to slash 150,000. Now you’re backtracking in front of me? Thinking 300,000 is too much?
He didn’t take the card but flipped through the contracts—quite lengthy, probably over ten pages. He wasn’t worried about traps; at worst, it was a one-time buyout. As an unknown creator, 300,000 was already a generous sum. But as always, it wasn’t like he had to sell. If he wanted to make money through songs, performing them himself could earn him multiple multiples of 300,000.
“I’m not in the mood to read this now. I’ll take the contract home, study it carefully, and get back to you, okay?”
Manager Zhang grew impatient; she didn’t want to fuss over the contract. What was there to read? They wouldn’t cheat over this amount. Even if there were pitfalls, so what? 300,000 yuan was already plenty.
“You can take your time. If you don’t understand, you can have a lawyer look it over. If you don’t have a lawyer you trust, I can recommend one,” she added.
Ha, as if trying to intimidate him.
Li Jingkun didn’t want trouble and preferred to avoid bothersome people. But that didn’t mean he’d tolerate being pushed around.
“You don’t think 300,000 yuan is too expensive for this song, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I want to understand your position. For a deal worth 300,000 yuan, I need to carefully review the contract and think it over.”
“Of course you can look at the contract. Like I said, you can hire a lawyer if you want.”
“Fine, then. That’s that.”
Li Jingkun was tired of the back-and-forth and got up to leave, not even taking the contract with him.
Manager Zhang hurried after him. “Hey, what’s this? The song’s recorded already. You’re not planning to raise the price, are you? Tiantian’s pretty straightforward—she agreed to 300,000, and although we think it’s expensive, we can afford it. Don’t think you can scam Tiantian and then jack up the price. Some people you just can’t mess with.”
Li Jingkun ignored her and walked out without looking back.
Manager Zhang stomped angrily, and the waiter, sensing trouble, came over. She didn’t even glance at him, packed up her things, and prepared to leave. She tossed the headphone cable to the waiter. “This is dirty; please throw it away.”
...
That evening, while Li Jingkun was reviewing notes at home, Zhao Tiantian, probably having some free time, messaged him: “So? Have you listened to the song? Is it okay?”
Li Jingkun glanced at the message and put his phone down.
After a while, Zhao Tiantian called him, but he declined.
“What’s wrong? Are you busy?” she messaged again.
What was she implying? Playing dumb?
Li Jingkun wasn’t sure if she knew the contract hadn’t been signed or if Manager Zhang’s message reflected her true feelings—that maybe she regretted the price and was pretending to be nice around him.
He decided to be straightforward; there was no need to waste time on this.
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(End of chapter)