Chapter 115: Where to Find a Ten-Million Investment?

Night. The air conditioning in the room was blasting.

Jiang Lun had finally finished organizing the scripts for the first ten episodes. Holding them in his hands, he reviewed them repeatedly, as if he could already see piles of cash raining down upon him. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he mocked himself, "You are so shallow!"

Just as he was lost in his reverie, the phone on the table suddenly rang. Picking it up, Jiang Lun answered with a grin, "It's so late, why aren't you asleep yet?"

"It's too hot to sleep. What are you doing?" It was Chen Yingying's voice on the other end.

"Writing a script!" Jiang Lun replied casually, then immediately regretted it, guessing that Chen Yingying would surely pounce on the topic.

"What? A script?" Chen Yingying was just as he had expected. "What kind of script are you writing? Why would you want to write that stuff?"

"It's nothing, just preparing to film a web series," Jiang Lun said with a laugh. "It's only in the preparation stage."

"A web series?" Chen Yingying's interest was piqued. "What's the genre? Urban romance? Fantasy? Or one of those suspense thrillers?"

"None of the above," Jiang Lun chuckled. "It's a historical light comedy."

"A historical light comedy?" Chen Yingying paused, then curled her lip. "What's the fun in filming that? I doubt anyone will watch it!"

"Hey? How can you say that?" Jiang Lun asked, puzzled. "You haven't even read the script, how can you dismiss it?"

"I just feel that way! You should trust a woman's intuition!" Chen Yingying said earnestly. "Look at the web series they're making now—'The Sweet CEO of the Long-Legged Campus Belle,' 'The Little Fairy and the Second Prince,' and that very popular one, 'Ghost Spirit Investigation.' Haven't you watched them?"

"Of course I haven't!" Jiang Lun gave a wry smile. "I didn't even want to watch them just by reading the titles!"

"You! That mindset is wrong!" Chen Yingying lectured. "Since you want to make a web series, you have to align with the current trend of web dramas and find the tastes that appeal to today's young people. You can't just rely on your own assumptions!"

"Uh..." Jiang Lun was truly rendered speechless. She was right. Whether a show is good or not is ultimately up to the audience. He couldn't represent everyone, or even a small fraction; he could only represent himself.

Yet, he still had confidence. *My Own Swordsman* had, after all, been market-tested in another world. Bringing it here, it definitely wouldn't be bad. It was the same with songs; if people's aesthetic standards were vastly different, the songs he had brought out wouldn't have achieved such success today. Therefore, he firmly believed that everyone's taste was similar. At the very least, as an audience member in this world, he still found *My Own Swordsman* quite captivating.

The next morning, Jiang Lun went to find Cai Fei and Wang Qilin, then took them to the studio Zhao Rong had rented. Following the address, the three got out of the car in front of an office building on the East Fourth Ring Road and took the elevator to the 28th floor.

As they stepped out of the elevator, they discovered the floor was divided into over a dozen units. There was a sign directly opposite the elevator; some spots already had company names posted, while others were still blank, presumably unrented. Jiang Lun called Zhao Rong, who appeared before them shortly after.

"A-Lun!" Zhao Rong had dark circles under his eyes, but his gaze showed no signs of fatigue; his excitement had not yet faded.

"These are my two buddies!" Jiang Lun introduced Cai Fei and Wang Qilin to him.

"Director Zhao, hello!" The two immediately stepped forward to shake hands with him.

"Just call me Old Zhao!" Zhao Rong smiled. "Let's go inside and talk. There are quite a few companies on this floor, and there's a lot of foot traffic!"

The four entered. The newly rented studio was completely empty. The glass windows were streaked with the marks of wind and rain, but the floor had clearly been mopped, and a bucket and mop were tucked in the corner.

Jiang Lun couldn't help but ask, "You cleaned this?"

"Yeah!" Zhao Rong nodded. "That's a small matter. Tomorrow I'll find someone to clean the outside windows so it looks a bit more professional."

"Alright, let's get to work on what we need to buy!"

"Let's split up!" Zhao Rong pulled out a list and handed it to Jiang Lun. "We'll work in pairs. You go buy the office supplies; I'll go register the license, pay the rent, and contact the renovation crew to come and look at the layout."

Although a studio needed to be registered with the industry and commerce bureau, it wasn't as restricted as a film and television company, and all the procedures were free. Zhao Rong knew the ropes and could get it done by finding a few industry insiders to help.

The tasks Jiang Lun had to handle seemed troublesome, but in reality, it just meant spending money. He hadn't told anyone about starting the studio, not even Mai Le or Wu Chao Yang. From the moment he made the decision to the point of actually investing, only three days had passed. It seemed reckless, but to Jiang Lun, it felt like the natural course of events.

By the end of the day, the room that had been empty was completely transformed. Six desks were set up, the computers had arrived, and there were many cardboard boxes piled on the floor. Fortunately, the space was large; the advertised 180 square meters included the balcony and common areas.

"Let's settle the accounts!" At seven in the evening, the four met up and sat right on the floor.

Zhao Rong asked, "How much did we spend on furniture today?"

"Including the tables, chairs, and computers, it cost sixty thousand in total!" Jiang Lun produced the receipts.

"Okay!" Zhao Rong recorded it in a notebook. "The license will be ready next Monday. I've already negotiated the renovation plan with the crew, and I've paid a five-thousand-yuan deposit to the building materials supplier. The materials will be delivered tomorrow, and we can start the renovation."

"I have to get back to work next week, so I'll have to leave the renovations to you!" Jiang Lun said. "I've written ten episodes of the script so far. I'll try to rush through the rest at home these next few days. Once it's done, I'll look for investors immediately. Once the funding is secured, we can start filming!"

"You've already started writing?" Zhao Rong was surprised. "How many episodes do you plan to write?"

"I don't know yet, I'll just write until it's done!" Jiang Lun coughed lightly; he didn't dare reveal the true number.

"I contacted a few friends last night too. They have some scripts on hand, and I'll go check them out later. But if your script is good, we'll use our own. After all, if we use theirs, we have to pay them first!" Zhao Rong said jokingly. Although friends might be willing to defer payment until the investment was secured, Zhao Rong didn't like owing people. If he were to use someone else's script, he would want to negotiate the price and settle it upfront.

After chatting for a while longer, the four went home. Once home, Jiang Lun buried himself in his work again, continuing until two in the morning before he finally climbed into bed, unable to keep his eyes open any longer.

Over the next few days, Jiang Lun didn't return to the studio. He trusted Zhao Rong to oversee the renovations, so he gave his all to rushing the script at home. During these days, he wasn't just writing; he watched the original *My Own Swordsman* repeatedly, studying it in depth. Specifically, the background music—unlike songs that could be learned by singing, he had to transcribe the score note by note, feeling as if he were back in school. Since he was going to adapt it, he wanted to do it thoroughly; he would feel guilty if he ended up with a half-baked imitation.

Finally, on Monday morning, the entire script was finished. Jiang Lun took this "grand production"—ahem, this low-budget sitcom script—to Liu Xia Hui's office. When Liu Xia Hui understood Jiang Lun's intentions, he took the script. Like Wang Kai, he frowned at first, then relaxed, and at certain points, couldn't help but laugh out loud. Once he started reading, he couldn't tear his eyes away, leaving Jiang Lun sitting opposite him for a full half-hour before he finally set the script down and flipped through the end.

"So many? Eighty episodes?" Liu Xia Hui asked in surprise. "Did you write this?"

"Yes!" Jiang Lun nodded. "Do you think this show is worth investing in?"

"Hiss..." Liu Xia Hui took a breath. He knew the costs of such a sitcom, but if it had been twenty or thirty episodes, he would have invested without hesitation—not just for Jiang Lun's sake, but simply because he had enjoyed reading the script so much. But an eighty-episode production required careful consideration.

"How much investment are you looking for?" Liu Xia Hui was an old hand at the negotiating table. He had produced many low-investment, high-return shows, such as *The Fair Lady*, which hadn't cost much but generated three times the investment in advertising revenue. While he couldn't be 100% sure that Jiang Lun's script would be a hit, he saw the potential for profit. After all, a businessman in the film industry is ultimately playing for money. Even bad movies could rake in millions, not to mention this interesting *My Own Swordsman*.

"I've made a rough estimate. At 250,000 per episode, an investment of 20 million should be sufficient," Jiang Lun said. This figure was based on the production costs of *My Own Swordsman* from the other world. According to the original producers, it was 250,000 per episode, which included production costs, salaries for the cast and crew, post-production, distribution, marketing, and the development of related games. Here, Jiang Lun and Zhao Rong could forgo their salaries initially, and the peripheral projects could be put on hold. He had also seen data suggesting that the writer, Ning Caishen, later wrote *Longmen Express* with a budget of 50 million—five times that of *My Own Swordsman*. By that logic, the cost per episode of *My Own Swordsman* might have been only 120,000 to 130,000, with a total investment of less than 10 million.

Jiang Lun only dared to ask for 20 million because he wanted to spend more on the sets and be more generous with the costumes, props, and actor salaries.

"20 million?" Liu Xia Hui's eyes widened. That was the budget for a decent film. He decided decisively, "I'll give you 5 million. You can choose to film twenty episodes first to test the waters, or you can find other investors to co-invest. That's all I can put in. Also, to save your face, I'll handle the distribution. Once you've finalized your plan, come back and sign the contract!"