Chapter Sixty: Signing the Contract

Zhang Chao and the others surged forward, ushering Liao Yuan into the store, their faces alight with excitement. There are not many pianists who can astonish passersby with a single piece, and Liao Yuan was undoubtedly among them. Even now, half a month after that performance of “Unravel,” its echoes lingered in everyone’s ears.

The brilliance of his technique, the fleeting shadows of his fingers dancing across the keys, left a lasting impression on all present that day. And then, as if that weren’t enough, Mr. Liao struck again: collaborating with the renowned domestic director Zhang Yichi, he composed “Journey to the Western Regions,” which sold for a staggering 1.43 million. It was nothing short of astonishing.

Afterwards, as people learned more, they realized Mr. Liao had no prior fame in the music world. For a newcomer to sell a single composition for over a million was a rarity in the industry. Thus, Liao Yuan’s name—spread by Zhang Chao’s loose tongue—quickly circulated among the pianists of Donghai, earning him a modest notoriety.

“Mr. Liao, is the S-277 working well for you?” Zhang Chao asked hopefully. “If you need anything while you’re here, just let me know. I’ll personally handle all after-sales service for your S-277.”

“It’s not about the piano,” Liao Yuan replied, pointing to the back of the crowd where Fu Xiaoci was jumping and waving. “I’ve come to meet her. There’s some private matter to attend to, and it just so happens the meeting’s here.”

Her? The crowd turned to see Fu Xiaoci, her makeup flawless, excitedly squeezing forward to Liao Yuan. Facing everyone, she spoke with poise, “Hello, everyone! I’m Mr. Liao’s agent—my name is Fu Xiaoci. Please take care of us!”

“Agent?” Miao Bizhu asked in surprise, turning to Liao Yuan, “Are you planning a concert?”

“Not at all, don’t listen to her nonsense,” Liao Yuan waved them off, then patted Fu Xiaoci’s shoulder. “Let’s find a quiet place to talk.”

Watching Liao Yuan and Fu Xiaoci depart, the group exchanged glances. Zhang Chao, who’d sacrificed sleep to rise so early, had no intention of letting Liao Yuan slip away. To him, a piano frame that understands composition was a veritable treasure trove—he wanted to keep Mr. Liao close at hand. Besides, he’d already bragged to his friends: once Liao Yuan showed up again, he would introduce this great pianist to them.

So, he hurriedly greeted the clerks, then stepped outside to follow Liao Yuan.

On the street corner, within a café, gentle music played as Liao Yuan spoke slowly, “Your suggestion yesterday was good, but its execution may be more difficult.”

“Not difficult at all—leave everything to me!” Fu Xiaoci cradled her cheeks in her hands, her large eyes blinking at Liao Yuan as if she wished to memorize his entire being.

“For your participation in the ‘One Emperor Four Kings’ competition, all you need to do is submit a piece to the Jili Gulu platform. Remember to select the ‘One Emperor Four Kings’ entry option on the submission page, then upload your work—that’s it, you’re automatically entered.”

“As for the offline competition, that’s even simpler. First, the mask: I’ll have someone design a few patterns for you, or you can order whatever style you like. During interviews and interactions at the event, you don’t need to say a word. With me as your agent, everything will be handled.”

Liao Yuan nodded, “And what about the commission?”

“You take eighty, I take twenty,” Fu Xiaoci said, a bit embarrassed. “I don’t have many resources—it’s my first time in this field, just testing the waters. Don’t worry, even if I have to work myself to the bone, I’ll get you at least ten gigs in a month.”

Liao Yuan was surprised. In the entertainment industry, agents typically take thirty to seventy percent, except for superstar artists who command eighty or ninety percent due to their own resources and steady demand. Liao Yuan was well aware he was no superstar.

So for Fu Xiaoci to take only twenty percent was a clear vote of confidence in his future potential. Liao Yuan certainly didn’t underestimate her resources; with Fu Yuntao—the king of variety shows—behind her, as long as Fu Xiaoci put in the effort, his bookings would be endless.

In truth, ability and talent alone don’t guarantee easy riches in this business. Simply put, the entertainment world’s cliques, alliances, and opportunism are more ruthless than those in ordinary professions. Competition is fiercer, the pressure greater. Most outsiders only see the glamorous side of celebrities.

Liao Yuan understood this well. In such a situation, a capable agent can smooth an artist’s path to stardom—even if Fu Xiaoci seemed a little unreliable.

The contract Fu Xiaoci presented listed the second party as Little Yellowfish Cultural Agency Ltd. According to her, she had personally established Little Yellowfish Culture. She was its president, sole employee, and sole proprietor—all herself.

In short, it was a shell company, with even the registered address marked as her own apartment. The legal representative, executive director, and manager were all Fu Xiaoci. Clearly, it was a one-person limited company.

Of course, even a one-person company requires a supervisor by law; the legal representative cannot serve as supervisor. So the supervisor listed was Fu Yuntao.

Liao Yuan silently read through the contract, then signed his name. Seeing Fu Xiaoci so jubilant, he couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. The contract was simplistic, riddled with loopholes—more like a child’s game than a legal document. Even without a law degree, Liao Yuan could instantly spot three or five flaws and, if he wished, could take over the entire company.

Such a naive child.

Perhaps Fu Yuntao regarded his sister’s venture as just harmless fun, not worth much concern. Liao Yuan now seriously doubted the claims of world-class work experience Fu Yuntao had made when introducing her.

He casually asked, “Xiaoci, where did you work before? You seem so efficient and experienced—very mature for a professional.”

“Really?” Fu Xiaoci’s eyes sparkled with delight. “After graduation, I couldn’t find a job, and I love streaming, so I’ve been muddling through the live broadcast industry. Fortunately, I’ve done okay. You say I’m mature and experienced? Haha, thanks for the compliment—it’s probably because I meet so many people while streaming.”

Liao Yuan fell silent. He was already regretting signing the contract, but the abundance of “traps” in its clauses brought him some comfort.

Let it be.

Fu Xiaoci continued, “The ‘One Emperor Four Kings’ has five major regions, but within our Huaxia region, there are six competition sites. Donghai City is one of these sites. According to tradition, the offline PK match will be held in the second month after the event starts, at the Mercedes-Benz Cultural Center…”