Chapter Fifty-Three: Appearance Fee Skyrockets

Chapter Fifty-Three: Soaring Appearance Fees

Zhang Le was not the kind of workaholic who didn’t know how to enjoy life; it was just that, right now, he simply couldn’t. Without making a mark for himself, his relationship with Yang Xiner was like a small boat adrift on the open sea—threatened with capsizing at any moment. What he needed to do now was reinforce this “boat” before the storm struck.

If he couldn’t match her in family background, he had to be outstanding in his own right. Otherwise, what right did he have to be with someone as exceptional as Yang Xiner?

The promotion for “Crazy Stone” was gradually underway, with the main focus online. There was already a bit of buzz on the internet.

The first season of “With You All the Way” had finished recording, and Yang Xiner had wrapped up filming and returned. The skepticism in the media, magazines, and online regarding Zhang Le was also gradually fading. No matter how loud the doubts had been, more and more people were accepting the fact that he and Yang Xiner were together.

Perhaps it was due to Zhang Le’s performance, or perhaps time had simply washed it all away.

Yang Xiner’s return to Yanjing after wrapping up her scenes was very low-key, drawing no attention from the press. In truth, when reporters or fans wait at airports for a celebrity, nine times out of ten it’s an orchestrated publicity stunt by the star or their team. Even when it is the media genuinely pursuing them, the tip-off usually comes from the celebrity’s own side.

“Filming in the desert must have been tough?” Zhang Le greeted Yang Xiner with a smile.

“It wasn’t too bad, just a lot of sand and wind,” she replied, removing her mask with a smile.

“Your childhood friend is quite bold, making a martial arts film as his first movie,” Zhang Le remarked. “Martial arts films aren’t what they were ten years ago.”

“He’s just making the kind of movie he wants to make, with nothing to worry about. Even though he’s the director, budget size and box office success don’t put any real pressure on him,” Yang Xiner said.

“Envy, jealousy, and hate!” Zhang Le smirked. “That’s every director’s dream.”

“You’ll get there too, though your path is different,” Yang Xiner said, squeezing his hand.

Zhang Le knew what she meant. Yue Yang had no worries about financing or box office failures, all thanks to his family background. For Zhang Le, achieving the same meant relying on his own abilities.

Once his films built up a reputation and box office pull, he wouldn’t have to worry about finding investors or box office returns. At that point, the name Zhang Le alone would attract endless investment and guarantee ticket sales.

“Oh, right. He asked you to do the theme song, and I already accepted on your behalf,” Yang Xiner said with a smile. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“Would it matter if I was?” Zhang Le laughed.

“Want to try?” Yang Xiner teased, pinching him.

“Any specific requirements?” Zhang Le asked.

“None,” Yang Xiner replied. “This film has a big budget, and they’ll be putting a lot into promotion. The theme song is a key part of that, so he agreed the song would be sung by you.”

Zhang Le looked at her and squeezed her hand tighter, knowing she was once again creating an opportunity for him.

When a theme song is good, it's never the composer or lyricist that audiences remember first—it’s the singer. If Zhang Le hadn’t sung “Fireworks Fade Easily,” perhaps so many film fans wouldn’t have remembered him back then.

Being both the songwriter and the singer is more than just adding one and one together.

“So, tell me the story of that martial arts film in a nutshell,” Zhang Le said after a pause.

“You want to hear it now?” Yang Xiner asked with a playful pout.

“Oh,” Zhang Le said sheepishly, “we can talk about it when we get home.”

“Alright, I’ll stop teasing you,” Yang Xiner laughed. “In short, the story is about a former number one martial artist who retires from the martial world for the sake of a woman, and together they open an inn in the desert. The story revolves around this inn: martial heroes fighting for supremacy, a loyal minister exiled to the frontier after being framed, the chivalrous swordsmen plotting his rescue, and the treacherous officials’ lackeys determined to finish him off for good...”

“The inn isn’t called ‘Dusty Inn,’ is it?” Zhang Le joked.

“‘Dusty Inn’?” Yang Xiner was puzzled for a moment, then shook her head. “No, it’s called ‘Dragon Gate Inn.’”

“Dragon Gate Inn!” Zhang Le was surprised, then smiled. Clearly, this film had nothing to do with that classic martial arts movie from his previous life. The name was the same, perhaps simply due to the location’s name, with no other connection.

In his past life, the classic “Dragon Gate Inn” was a den of thieves, but this film obviously was not.

“How did you think of ‘Dusty Inn’? Why not ‘God of Wealth Inn’ while you’re at it?” Yang Xiner laughed.

“God of Wealth Inn?” Zhang Le paused, realizing that was also the title of a movie from his previous life, though nowhere near as classic as “Dragon Gate Inn.”

“Because I’m thinking of calling the song ‘Dusty Inn’!” Zhang Le declared.

“Dusty Inn” was about a hero who had retired from the martial world, hanging up his sword to live in peace, no longer caring who ruled the martial arts world, only wanting to drink tea with his beloved and hold her in his arms. The lyrics were profoundly melancholic, evoking the desolate imagery of a lone horse on an ancient road.

When people think of martial arts and the pugilistic world, this isn’t the first song that comes to mind. But after hearing Yang Xiner’s brief outline of the film, Zhang Le couldn’t shake this song from his mind. The more he thought about it, the more fitting it seemed.

When they returned to the apartment, Yang Xiner began unpacking while Zhang Le started preparing dinner.

“Sister Wen called. Beijing TV is hosting a New Year’s Gala and invited us to perform. Should we accept?” Yang Xiner asked between bites.

“Let’s do it! ‘With You All the Way’ is Beijing TV’s hottest show, and we’ve both benefited a lot from it. It wouldn’t be right to turn them down. Plus, we’re not that busy lately,” Zhang Le nodded.

For this kind of commercial performance, Yang Xiner would always accept. She only asked because she knew Zhang Le rarely took such gigs.

“We’ll do one song each and a duet,” Yang Xiner added. “The appearance fee is pretty good—one point three million.”

“One point three million? Your performance fee has gone up that much? Wasn’t it only seven hundred thousand not long ago?” Zhang Le exclaimed in surprise.

“My current rate is close to nine hundred thousand,” Yang Xiner shot him a look. Seven hundred thousand had been a long time ago. Especially now, with several nominations at the Chinese Golden Melody Awards at the end of the year, her fee had skyrocketed.

“How did it jump so much?” Zhang Le wondered, then suddenly realized, “If yours is nine hundred thousand, does that mean my fee is four hundred thousand? How is that possible?”

“Don’t you know I’ve been nominated for Best Female Singer and Most Popular Female Singer this year? And several of my songs are up for Song of the Year. You’ve also been nominated for Best Lyricist, Best Composer, and Best Newcomer!” Yang Xiner looked at him meaningfully.

“Best Newcomer?” Zhang Le stared at her in astonishment, suddenly understanding why both their appearance fees had surged so dramatically.