Huayu: This producer has no bottom line.

Chapter 62 Master Drinks Tea

The atmosphere in the private room froze instantly.

Da Peng was sweating profusely.

Anyone who dares to try and get something for nothing from this guy probably hasn't even been born yet.

Ren Pingsheng met Zhao Bensan's sharp gaze and spoke frankly.

"Teacher Zhao, Brother Peng is indeed in trouble. I recommended him, but the people at the station think he comes from a humble background and that he lowers the standard of the World Expo program, so they won't let him on."

Zhao Bensan rested his fingers on the folding fan without saying a word.

"But they forgot that the founder of grassroots comedy is in Northeast China. If Brother Peng is fortunate enough to become your disciple, then they will not only have to accept this observer position with a heavy heart, but they will also have to carry him over in a sedan chair."

That's a pretty blunt statement.

Even Zhao Benshan himself didn't expect that this kid could reveal all his cards while flattering him.

Only Na-young's singing could be heard in the private room.

Suddenly, Zhao Bensan laughed. "Young man, you're quite honest," he said, picking up his folding fan and lightly patting his thigh. "So, you've come to see me today to use this old man as a stepping stone for those TV people in Shanghai?"

Da Peng's face turned pale.

Ren Pingsheng remained calm and waited for Zhao Bensan to finish laughing before continuing the conversation.

"Teacher Zhao, the 'key to getting in touch' isn't accurate."

"Oh?" Zhao Bensan raised an eyebrow.

"When Brother Peng became your disciple and went to that stage, he no longer represented himself. When he sat there, Northeast Errenzhuan, Zhao Family Troupe, and folk grassroots art all followed him onto the stage."

"Those people from Shanghai think he's unsophisticated? Then they're not just criticizing Brother Peng, they're criticizing the entire grassroots culture of Northeast China."

Zhao Bensan paused for a moment while tapping the folding fan.

"Teacher Zhao, that show is called 'China's Got Talent'."

Ren Pingsheng then offered his real bargaining chip: "The program has been licensed from the UK and will be broadcast during prime time at the World Expo next year. It is currently the only program in China that can bring folk Errenzhuan art into the mainstream and allow the most fashionable idol groups to shine in front of audiences across the country and even the world."

Upon hearing the words "idol group," Zhao Bensan abruptly stopped tapping his folding fan.

Ren Pingsheng's heart tightened—he had won.

These four words are Zhao Bensan's biggest worry at this moment.

He didn't give Zhao Bensan time to digest the situation and continued to escalate the bets.

"If Brother Peng sits in the observer's seat, it would be like having one of your own people planted in the highest-rated show next year for the idol group you are preparing."

"You understand the value of these hidden resources better than I do: creating memes, engaging in conversation, campaigning, and getting screen time."

"Moreover, my Life Media can also serve as the internet power of this group. Television is responsible for creating stars, and the internet is responsible for creating idols. By joining forces, we can promote this group nationwide."

The private room fell silent again, and Na-young's singing voice drifted in through the glass.

Zhao Bensan squinted and looked at the young man in front of him, who was only twenty-three years old, again.

"You little rascal, you've got a pretty shrewd plan."

Zhao Bensan picked up the folding fan again, twirled it twice in his palm, and suddenly turned to look at Dapeng.

"Little Dong."

Dapeng shuddered. "Here!"

Zhao Bensan looked him up and down, and his tone softened.

"Actually, when we were making the show last year, I thought you were a clever kid with a straightforward Northeastern vibe. When I said I'd take you on as my apprentice, I wasn't just being polite."

Da Peng's eyes immediately reddened.

"And you, you little rascal, actually kicked me out," Zhao Bensan said with a laugh.

"Teacher Zhao, I really felt unworthy at the time, afraid of embarrassing you!" Da Peng's voice was trembling.

"Alright, alright, you're a grown man, stop this nonsense."

Zhao Bensan waved his hand, glanced at Ren Pingsheng, then looked at Dapeng, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

"With such sincerity on your part today, and such a smart brother protecting you, if I don't accept you, it would make me, Old Zhao, seem stingy."

He picked up the teacup in front of him and pushed it towards Dapeng.

"Still calling him Teacher Zhao?"

Dapeng paused for a second, then suddenly realized what was happening.

He bent his knees and knelt firmly on the ground, took the teacup with both hands, raised it high, and made a sound so loud that the entire private room could hear it.

"Master! Please have some tea!"

Zhao Bensan laughed heartily, took the teacup, and took a sip.

Get up.

Dapeng didn't move, he knelt on the ground, tears streaming down his face.

He wasn't being pretentious.

Having left a small town in Jilin Province, I drifted north, sleeping in basements and enduring the hardships of surviving on instant noodles. After finally making a name for myself at Sohu, I was called a traitor, a slacker, and a makeshift team because I followed Ren Pingsheng to start a business.

This kneeling is more than just a gesture of becoming an apprentice.

It was the first time in over twenty years that he had finally been recognized.

"Get up!" Zhao Bensan emphasized, but he couldn't stop smiling. "From today onwards, you are the 53rd disciple of my Zhao family troupe. If Dragon TV dares to use seniority to pressure you again, just say my name and see who dares to stop you."

"Hey!" Da Peng wiped his face, stood up, and turned to look at Ren Pingsheng.

His face was covered in snot and tears, but his mouth was stretched to his ears in a wide grin.

Ren Pingsheng nodded to him without saying anything more.

This risky move worked.

Zhao Bensan picked up the folding fan again and pointed at Ren Pingsheng.

"Young man, your name is Ren Pingsheng?"

"Yes."

"With a brain like yours, you'd be wasting your talent even as a con artist back in our area."

Ren Pingsheng smiled and said, "Teacher Zhao, you flatter me."

"It's not a compliment, it's just a reminder," Zhao Bensan said seriously, his smile fading. "It's fine to be shrewd in your calculations, but don't get yourself involved. I'm protective of my own, and now that Xiao Dong is in my circle, I'll cover for him if anyone bullies him. But if you ever betray him, I won't be so lenient."

"Don't worry, Teacher Zhao."

Ren Pingsheng stood up and bowed deeply.

This isn't just polite talk; it's from the bottom of my heart.

People who are willing to lay bare their flaws upfront are the most worthwhile to befriend.

Just then, a deafening roar erupted from the stadium outside the VIP box.

Nayoung's New Year's Eve concert has entered its final countdown.

Through the one-way glass of the private room, numbers were jumping on a huge electronic screen.

"5!"

"4!"

"3!"

Da Peng wiped away his tears and started shouting.

"2!"

"1!"

"Happy New Year!!!"

Colorful ribbons rained down from above the stage.

2010 arrived.

Inside the private room, Zhao Bensan smiled and wished everyone a Happy New Year.

Amidst the deafening cheers, Ren Pingsheng's phone vibrated in his pocket.

He took out his phone; it was a New Year's greeting text message from Bai Ke.

Below the message of blessing, an industry news article was also shared.

With the Super Girl craze fading and the Korean wave sweeping in, where is China's domestic idol industry headed?

Ren Pingsheng stared at the words, his thumb hovering over the screen. Amidst the commotion, his thoughts had already drifted elsewhere.

2010 years.

Dapeng's becoming an apprentice was only the first step.

No matter how big the hype was surrounding Zhao Benshan's Chinese idol project, it wouldn't last more than three months.

Warner Music only cares about pressing records and earning copyright fees, while Taiwan only cares about pointing fingers and making quick money, and Benshan Media itself has no experience in idol management.

With conflicting interests among the three parties and a lack of adaptation to local conditions, there was only one outcome for this project—it was shelved.

By then, all the money invested in the early stages had gone down the drain, and Zhao Bensan was furious with nowhere to vent his anger.

Looking across the entire country, who can take over this mess?

Who has internet marketing skills? Who has the ability to produce viral content? Who knows how to use a persona to turn an ordinary person into an idol?

Ren Pingsheng turned off the screen, and several names flashed through his mind.

Those trainees on the peninsula were all locked into SM's ten-year contracts.

Those two from XJ are promising talents; at 17 years old, they have stunning looks and dance skills.

Ren Pingsheng shook his head, suppressing these thoughts for the time being.

You have to eat one bite at a time, and you have to go step by step.