bdsm-fiction Chapter 32 The Running Money Tree
Chapter 32 The Running Money Tree
"Teacher Wang, this is your payment." The finance staff handed Wang Bo an envelope.
Wang Bo took it, felt its thickness, and nodded his thanks.
Once he was in the car on the way back, he opened the envelope and counted the money—eight thousand in cash, just as stated in the contract.
Adding the 6,000 from the mall promotion this morning, my total income for today is 14,000.
We're one step closer to paying off Su Xiaoxiao's 100,000 yuan debt.
But remember to file your taxes later.
"Brother Wang, there's a real estate opening event at 10 AM tomorrow, a car dealership anniversary celebration at 3 PM, and an invited performance by a university club at 7 PM." Assistant Xiao Lin reported the schedule from the passenger seat, his tone tinged with concern. "Isn't this schedule... a bit too packed? President Su said you should take care of yourself and not overwork your voice."
"It's okay," Wang Bo leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, "I can handle it."
He was really tired.
He has been singing four shows since he got up at six in the morning. Although he only sang two or three songs at each show, the frequent changes of venues, the need to adapt to different sound equipment, and the need to deal with different audience atmospheres have taken a toll on his energy and voice.
But whenever I think of my father in the hospital, my mother's helpless voice on the phone, and the 100,000 yuan I owe Su Xiaoxiao...
He felt that it was all worth it.
My phone vibrated; it was a WeChat message from Su Yiyi: "How many shows did you sing today? How's your voice? I made some rock sugar pear stew; do you want me to bring some over?"
Wang Bo felt a warmth in his heart and replied, "Three games, that's alright. No need to send them, it's too much trouble."
Su Yiyi replied instantly: "No trouble at all. I happen to be taking a class near your apartment. I'll be there in twenty minutes. Are you home yet?"
Wang Bo glanced out the car window; the apartment was still a ten-minute drive away.
"Soon."
"Then I'll wait for you."
After putting down his phone, Wang Bo said to the driver, "Driver, please drive a little faster."
He wanted to drink that bowl of rock sugar pear soup as soon as possible.
I also want to meet that gentle and considerate person soon.
three days later.
Wang Bo's commercial performance schedule is already booked until next weekend.
As the popularity of "Once Upon a Time" continued to grow, his commercial performance fee also rose from the initial few thousand to tens of thousands. Su Xiaoxiao strictly controlled the process, only accepting events with relatively good venues, sound systems, and audience atmosphere, and rejecting invitations from those who were just trying to ride the wave of popularity and whose conditions were poor.
Even so, Wang Bo still runs at least three events every day, like a spinning top that keeps going non-stop.
That afternoon, he encountered a minor accident while performing in an open-air plaza at a shopping mall.
Halfway through the song, it suddenly started raining.
It wasn't a drizzle, it was a downpour.
The audience scattered instantly, running faster than rabbits.
The organizers panicked and quickly had people set up rain shelters and protect the equipment.
Wang Bo stood still.
The rain quickly soaked his white shirt, his hair clung to his forehead, and his guitar was covered in water droplets.
But he kept singing.
Whenever I feel sad—I look at the sea alone—
The sound traveled through the rain and had a strange power about it.
Several spectators who hadn't run far hid under the eaves, recording with their phones.
The rain was getting heavier and heavier, and Wang Bo was soaked to the bone, but he sang with even more passion, as if the torrential rain was not an obstacle, but the most natural stage effect.
After singing the last line, he bowed deeply to the empty square and the few scattered spectators under the eaves.
The applause rang out, sparse but very enthusiastic.
"Wang Bo is awesome!" someone shouted.
Wang Bo straightened up and wiped the rain off his face.
Backstage, the organizer apologized and thanked them profusely, insisting on paying more money.
Wang Bo waved his hand: "Just follow the contract."
After changing out of his wet clothes and drinking a cup of ginger tea, he got back into his car and headed to the next location.
On the way, he checked his phone.
The video of Wang Bo singing in the rain has become a trending topic on local social media.
The comments section was filled with praise: "This is a true singer!" "Dedicated!" "I'm a fan now!"
But some people mocked, "Just trying to get attention." "Is this staged?" "They'll do anything to become famous."
Wang Bo swung past without paying attention.
In these three days, he witnessed too much of the coldness and warmth of human relationships.
There are enthusiastic fans, sincere partners, sarcastic competitors, and merchants who want to take advantage of the situation to lower prices.
He remained calm throughout.
Because he knew exactly what he was doing—earning money, paying off debts, and taking care of his family.
At the same time, they use each performance to improve their live performance skills and build a good rapport with the audience.
Su Xiaoxiao is right. Relying on the popularity of just one song won't last long. He needs continuous exposure and more works.
All of this requires money and time.
The last commercial performance ended at 9 p.m.
Wang Bo dragged his tired body back to his apartment. As soon as he entered, his phone rang.
It was an unfamiliar number.
He hesitated for a moment, then answered: "Feed?"
"Hello, is this Mr. Wang Bo?" A capable female voice came from the other end of the phone. "I am Liu Wei, the director of the artist management department of Starlight Media."
Wang Bo raised an eyebrow.
Starlight Media.
The company that poached his ex-girlfriend was also the company Li Xuan signed with.
"Hello, Director Liu," Wang Bo said calmly, "What can I do for you?"
"Mr. Wang, we've noticed your outstanding performance at the recent provincial celebration and the tremendous response to your song 'Once Upon a Time'," Liu Wei said directly. "Starlight Media is a top-tier entertainment company in China. We have the most professional team, the best resources, and the most mature talent development system. We have high hopes for your potential and hope to have the opportunity to work with you."
Wang Bo leaned against the door without saying a word.
Liu Wei continued, "We can offer you top-tier contract terms in the industry—a signing bonus of one million, a guaranteed annual income of three million, and a profit-sharing ratio that can be negotiated up to 70/30 (you get 70%). The company will invest at least tens of millions in promotional resources to create your personal album, arrange a national tour, and connect you with film and television resources..."
The conditions are indeed tempting.
If it were Wang Bo from two weeks ago, he might have been tempted.
but now……
"Director Liu," Wang Bo interrupted her, "thank you for your company's appreciation. However, I have already signed a contract."
There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone.
"Signed a contract? Which company?" Liu Wei's voice was clearly surprised. "We've investigated, and your contract with Yuji Entertainment should have automatically terminated with the company's dissolution. Did you sign a short-term cooperation agreement? If so, we can pay the penalty for breach of contract..."
"It's not a short-term contract," Wang Bo said. "It's a formal full-term contract. I signed with Xiaoyi Culture Media."
"Xiaoyi Culture?" Liu Wei seemed to be thinking about which company this was. "Never heard of it. Mr. Wang, I suggest you reconsider. A small, unknown company can only offer you very limited resources, which might hinder your development. As for our Starlight Media..."