“Hold up, you still haven’t expined what this company’s even gonna do,” Yang Haonan said, his eyes still gleaming as the realization hit him.

  “Wait a sec, let me figure it out,” Xu Nuo replied, rubbing his nose sheepishly.

  “What the—? You’re screwing with me?” Yang Haonan’s gre turned feral, his eyes scanning for something to chuck.

  “Chill, chill.” Xu Nuo fired up his ptop, searching through various media ptforms and skimming the results.

  “How about a cultural creative company? Focus on ad campaigns, pnning, short dramas, livestreaming,” Xu Nuo said confidently. “Over here, whether it’s Kuaishou or Bilibili, this stuff’s still niche. If we catch this wave, we might not hit giant status, but we’ll carve out a solid spot.”

  Yang Haonan nodded thoughtfully. He wasn’t just some pyboy leech—his upbringing had sharpened his nose for business.

  Yesterday’s negotiation proved it: even a seasoned agent like Liu Shun couldn’t get the upper hand.

  “Light assets, heavy on creativity—low costs, exponential returns if it takes off,” Yang Haonan mused, tapping the table. “Pump out products fast, grab traffic. If they flop, swap ‘em out quick. No obsession with quality—just speed and volume.”

  Xu Nuo shot him a surprised look. “You’ve got some brains, huh? Why haven’t you tried this before?”

  “Ideas are one thing—creativity’s the bottleneck,” Yang Haonan said, looking up. “You know me, I’m only into balling.”

  Xu Nuo smirked inwardly. Real cssy way to say you’re obsessed with flirting—practicing your ‘two-handed control,’ huh?

  “How much cash you got?”

  “Lemme count.” Yang Haonan scratched his head, flipping through his phone. “Roughly 300,000 or so.”

  Xu Nuo nodded. Not bad. The money from selling “The Wind Rises” to Lin Wanqing hadn’t hit yet, but once “Those Bygone Years” sold, plus his own stash, it’d be enough.

  “Cool. Go register the company ter. You put in 300,000, I’ll toss in 400,000, and I’ll handle the initial pns.”

  “What’s the name?”

  Xu Nuo pondered. “How about Heritage Culture Co., Ltd.?”

  “Heritage Culture?” Yang Haonan paced a bit. “Kinda cool.”

  In the end, Yang Haonan offered 300,000 for 30% equity, while Xu Nuo put in 400,000 plus the creative juice for 70%.

  Yang Haonan would manage the company.

  “Xu Nuo, that’s my wife-fund you’ve got there. If this tanks, I’m crashing at your pce for meals every day.”

  “Get lost! A rich kid like you crying broke to me—have some shame!”

  “Two different things. My dad’s money is his—mine’s mine.”

  Xu Nuo didn’t bother with his whining. “If you’re free today, scout some offices. Nothing huge—200 square meters or so.”

  “Tomorrow, maybe.”

  “Busy today?” Xu Nuo asked, puzzled.

  Yang Haonan rubbed his nose. “Uh, not really. Just meeting someone to… spar some ball skills.”

  “…” Xu Nuo waved him off, suddenly doubting if teaming up with this guy was a mistake.

  “Scram.”

  Yang Haonan slinked out, looking sheepish.

  Funny thing—he was a rich kid with plenty of suck-ups dying to lick his boots, yet he couldn’t stand any of them.

  But Xu Nuo, who never kissed ass, somehow felt just right.

  That afternoon, Lin Wanqing sent a short recording—her song was done.

  She asked when he could interview at the company.

  Xu Nuo set it for the morning after next.

  For him, breaking into entertainment and carving out a space couldn’t just rely on the system.

  With its track record, who knew what junk the lottery might spit out? No banking on that.

  Joining Haiyin Entertainment was twofold: build a rep and tap into their network to boost his singing and composing skills.

  His voice was solid—he just sucked at technique.

  The next morning, Yang Haonan hauled breakfast back to the dorm. Pushing the door open, he found Xu Nuo hunched over the computer, browsing something.

  Seeing him, Xu Nuo gnced up, smirked, and went back to the screen.

  “Xu Nuo, breakfast.”

  “Leave it there—I’ll grab it ter.”

  Yang Haonan peeked over. His face flushed a bit—Xu Nuo was researching nearby offices and company registration stuff. Compared to him, he felt like a scker.

  Wait, I am a scker, he thought, instantly regaining his swagger.

  After eating, they headed out. Yang Haonan drove his “bathhouse-special” Cadilc.

  His words: only this car matched his vibe—Benz or BMW felt off, not quite reflecting his status.

  “Set the GPS.”

  “On it.” Yang Haonan tapped a few times.

  The speakers chimed: “Now navigating to Royal No. 1 Club.”

  “Whoops, wrong one.” He grinned, unbothered, and reset it.

  They drove straight to a tech park near campus—close, with subway access, not too suburban. Perfect spot.

  But the vibe was off. The ground floor was packed with e-bikes, and the park was a bit grimy.

  Xu Nuo and Yang Haonan shook their heads in sync. A creative company needed a decent environment.

  A shabby setup kills mood and inspiration.

  They moved on to the next park.

  No middleman—early startup days meant pinching pennies.

  “This pce looks decent,” Yang Haonan said, parking.

  “Let’s check it out.”

  Xu Nuo asked the property manager about 200-square-meter offices.

  The manager showed them a few options.

  At a floor-to-ceiling window, Xu Nuo peered out—high-rises everywhere, a bustling commercial street below, and a riverside park across the road.

  “How’s this?”

  Xu Nuo nodded, stepping out to scope the floor’s other tenants.

  Sometimes, picking an office meant checking the neighbors—company image mattered.

  He even poked around the bathroom.

  “Now I believe you’re serious about this,” Yang Haonan said out of nowhere.

  “No shit. You think I’ve got time to mess with you?” Xu Nuo rolled his eyes.

  Rent was 8 yuan per square meter—48,000 a month.

  Xu Nuo winced. Startups were money pits. Doing nothing, just waking up cost 1,600 a day in rent.

  Yang Haonan signed the lease and handled the registration—all under his name.

  Keys in hand, he gnced at the office, feeling like it was a dream.

  Who starts a company this recklessly? His dad had drilled in how tough it was—months of research and prep were the norm.

  Yet here they were, hashing it out yesterday, jumping in today. Kinda absurd.

  Xu Nuo cpped his shoulder, teasing, “Boss Yang, it’s all on you now.”

  Yang Haonan sighed. “Why do I feel like I’ve boarded a pirate ship?”

  “You’ll thank your lucky stars for this decision someday.”

  “Tch!”

  (End of Chapter)