This Girl Forced to Become an Entertainment Company Boss - Chapter 54: 054

Chapter 54

“Title: Gossip Discussion / Feeling that Random Entertainment’s business strategy planner really has something.”

“Seven hours after the launch of the fan shop function, the trainees gained more than forty fan accounts, with Ye Pei Gao’s three people dominating half the field. This morning, people were saying the show’s popularity was about to decline, but in the afternoon, as soon as this function was launched, it directly revitalized the entertainment circle. Oh my god!”

“Your Random Entertainment really knows how to make money!”

Comments section:

“This idea is really clever. It gives the fan circles a legitimate channel for output, with official backing and responsibility. This will attract a large number of fan accounts wanting to make money. The more fan accounts, the more output, and the more output, the more active the fan circles will be.”

“I’m dying of laughter. Less than an hour after the announcement went live, Ye Xing suddenly got three new fan accounts.”

“Fan account managers from all over the Chinese entertainment industry are coming to Random Entertainment to buy shops.”

“It’s so lively, really lively. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the entertainment circle this bustling.”

“Giving fans a chance to have a seat at the table, who wouldn’t be happy about that? The designs look good, fans are willing to buy, and Random Entertainment is known for its low prices. Buying good products at low prices, I’m already looking forward to it.”

“Limiting new releases to once a month, I can already imagine the bloodbath that will ensue.”

“I’ve noticed that Random Entertainment really delves deep into fan circles. The promise of never reselling items is something that makes every fan itch with excitement.”

“I’m in the comedy circle and even I’ve been alerted to this. The Chinese entertainment industry’s waters have suddenly heated up today!”

“Then let’s hope Random Entertainment reviews carefully and doesn’t let garbage items get on the shelves.”

“They say they’re only releasing nineteen new merchandise items each month for now, but there are sixty-three trainees. How are they going to distribute that?”

“Let them fight, I love to watch.”

“This card trader is already prepared. The fortune-telling sister says she’s passed the review, hahahahaha!”

“Currently, only Pei and Ye’s teams have people who’ve passed the review, right?”

“PLM’s is a hand banner, YX’s is a photo album. I guess YX’s will sell more.”

“These two were already competing for first and second place, and now it’s gotten even more intense.”

“Fight! This drama lover is already prepared with sunflower seeds and soda!”

When the announcement went live, the first to react were those always on the frontlines of fan circles. As the only survival show last year, “21 Heartbeats of Youth” attracted many fans from other fandoms through round after round of performances.

The show was just to open up the circle and attract fans, but the tour was what really solidified the fan base. Only fans who’ve been to concerts can experience the joy unique to offline fan activities. “21 Heartbeats of Youth” was also known as the youngest and most talented batch of a survival show, with each stage giving people an extremely strong viewing experience, which would be amplified when seen offline.

Online, everyone was criticizing Random Entertainment’s no-photography rule, but only fans who had been to many artists’ concerts knew how good it was to have a concert where there were no raised phones blocking the view, the whole venue was a uniform color, and there were no dazzling light boards.

Because the concert tickets were priced low, even casual fans with a slight interest would want to go see it. The result after watching was a vertical dive into the fandom.

During the tour, the show’s popularity seemed to decline, but the number of die-hard fans for the trainees was rising sharply.

With fans, you certainly need to retain them. In fan circles, apart from official content releases, the fans’ own output is the most important and accounts for the highest proportion. Random Entertainment announced the fan merchandise shop at such a crucial moment.

This move not only surprised their own fans but also attracted fans from other fandoms to come and observe. The most straightforward evidence was the newly opened fan accounts in the super topic.

Everyone knows that fan accounts make money. They can easily rake in millions by selling a few things. People are very disgusted with such accounts, and this emotion ultimately stems from treating other casual fans as leeks, selling low-quality items, having no after-sales service, non-transparent and high pricing, and the profits made by the accounts may not even end up being spent on their idols.

But Random Entertainment changed this. From now on, there’s no need to worry about these things. Fans just need to prepare money to buy the merchandise they like.

Tonight was like a carnival. Everyone was constantly refreshing for news, and various platforms were calculating which trainees’ merchandise had passed the review.

Liu Yue, who had passed the review, looked at her notification messages, then glanced at the Weibo post she had just sent out.

She posted a fans-only message, with the image being the review approval picture sent by Random Entertainment. The text read: “Didn’t expect the review to be so fast [confused]”

Liu Yue was quite confused because the photo album she produced included some stage fan photos from previous performances and concerts. She thought it wouldn’t be approved, but not only was it approved, she even got a reply in less than two hours.

“Random Entertainment: Your submitted merchandise design has passed the review. If you agree to mass production, please upload the following information within twelve hours. The information must be consistent with the current account.”

What needed to be uploaded wasn’t anything else, it was her identity information.

This might not be a problem for others, but she was Liu Yue! Jiang Juyou had been her roommate, eating and living together for more than three years!

Liu Yue sat up in bed, anxiously biting her fingertip. “…I shouldn’t think like this. Jiang Juyou is the artistic director, the producer. She shouldn’t be involved in contract signing. Contract signing is the legal department’s work, and after I sign the contract, it goes directly to the legal department. How could Jiang Juyou possibly see it?”

It was almost eleven o’clock, and she still hadn’t slept. She was so worried about this that she couldn’t sleep, afraid that Jiang Juyou would discover her fan identity.

Liu Yue didn’t consider herself a sasaeng fan. She had never inquired about the artist’s privacy, at most buying flight information from scalpers. And after returning to the country to follow this show and learning that Jiang Juyou was their boss, she hadn’t asked anything, fearing being blacklisted as a sasaeng fan.

Being blacklisted was secondary; the main thing was how embarrassing it would be.

It didn’t matter how crazy she was online because nobody knew each other there. But if her real-life friends found out what she was like online – Liu Yue just thinking about it made her want to bang her head against a wall.

After agonizing over it for a long time, she still uploaded her identity information and signed the contract.

Although this bit of money wouldn’t cover her fan expenses, Liu Yue really wanted to share the concert fan photos she had taken. Some were even very good, and it would be a shame not to show them off to others.

She steeled herself, comforting herself that Jiang Juyou definitely wouldn’t notice, and clicked confirm.

Almost simultaneously, Jiang Juyou received the contract on her end.

The merchandise shop design version of the APP would display the number of contracted designers. Jiang Juyou was trying to design a light stick herself when she saw a broadcast float across the top of the site:

“A red-letter day~ Welcome to our first designer [Today’s Fortune | Lucky] joining the merchandise shop!”

This was the content others could see.

Jiang Juyou could see a bit more than them; she could check each designer’s identity information.

But Jiang Juyou’s attention wasn’t on that at the moment. She frowned and asked the system, “Will every designer be announced like this?”

“…Only the first or hundredth, thousandth, ten thousandth, and such round numbers will be broadcasted.”

She hadn’t noticed before, but now she could increasingly feel the world-weariness and frustration, or perhaps exasperation, in the system’s tone.

She was afraid she was mistaken in her perception, so she had never asked before. This time was no different; she quietly ended the conversation.

After immersing herself back in the joy of designing hand banners, Jiang Juyou chatted idly with the system while drawing on her iPad. “I heard from the variety show department that the new survival show that’s supposed to go live this week was originally scheduled for the end of the month. But to counter us and grab the spotlight, they’ve moved it up. They’re also selling photo cards.”

The office, shrouded in darkness, was only lit by a few ambient lights. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, she could see the distant street scene. The bustle outside didn’t penetrate the room; she was alone in the office, enjoying her solitude.

She lay on the carpet, feet up, hugging her iPad as she wrote and drew, her mouth never stopping.

“It seems they even came to investigate which factory produces our photo cards. It cracks me up. How would the variety show department know these things? It’s not under their jurisdiction.”

“Oh, right, you’re also in charge of the peripheral production, aren’t you? When you’re filtering, remember to use big data to weed out those that are plagiarized or AI-generated.”

Most of the time, Jiang Juyou chatted with the system like this. She said her piece, and whether the system listened or not was its own business.

She thought it would be like usual with no reply, but the system suddenly spoke up and asked her, “Do you hate artificial intelligence?”

“Huh?” Jiang Juyou, who was lying on the carpet, suddenly looked up.

The unexpected question interrupted Jiang Juyou’s train of thought. It took her a few seconds to answer, “No, it’s not that I hate you! It’s just that if everyone uses AI, why would I bother with fan designs? I might as well just use AI directly!”

“…” The system didn’t speak again, just like it usually did.

Jiang Juyou slowly sat up straight. “System! Are you still there?” She tried calling out a few times, but there was no response.

“Too aloof,” she muttered, then flopped back down to continue drawing her fan support stick.

On the other side, Liu Yue, who had been anxiously waiting, looked at the message confirming her successful contract signing, then glanced at WeChat. Jiang Juyou hadn’t sent any messages, so it seemed things were just as she had thought.

“Phew…”

Her heart had been pounding all night, but finally, it could settle down a bit.

Liu Yue relaxed and lay back down on the bed, pulling the covers up, then started composing a Weibo post.

“@Today’s Fortune | Lucky: The review has passed! They said it will be launched next Monday. I can show you all a preview. This is what I made myself, A4 size, 129 pages, with pictures of going to and from work, stage performances, and even concert photos! Thank you all for your support!”

“What? What did I just see? Concert?!”

“Great Fortune Sister!!!”

“Random Entertainment is so strict, how did you manage to take photos? [Shocked]”

“I raised my phone to take an encore photo that day and was asked to delete it. How on earth did you manage to take these? [Jaw drop]”

“The fan site admin in front of me that day had their memory card confiscated… Fortune Sister, you…”

“Thank you thank you thank you!!! Finally, something we can collect as a memento!”

Other fan site admins: How on earth did she manage to bring a camera in and take photos?