The final negotiated price was 1.2 million yuan. To encourage creators of art and entertainment to continually produce high-quality works, this world only levied a single transaction fee on copyright royalties.
For such a substantial copyright income, the fee would likely be less than 30,000 yuan, leaving the vast majority as personal earnings.
Yang Chaoyue's company acquired exclusive rights to the song, including the right to perform it under her own name. Officially, "Chinese" would henceforth be strongly associated with her.
Yang Chaoyue was free to use the song for commercial performances in any form, and Ye Huanqiu would have no claim to the earnings from these performances.
Furthermore, Yang Chaoyue's company held the right to adapt the song. They were permitted to modify the version or lyrics for television appearances or other performances.
Once the song was released on music streaming platforms, Yang Chaoyue's company would receive 30% of the streaming revenue. Of the remaining 70%, 20% would be taken by the music platforms, and the remaining 50% would go to Ye Huanqiu.
If Ye Huanqiu were still working for Nuocheng Company, he wouldn't see a single penny of this money!
With the contract signed, Sister Zhang finally breathed a sigh of relief. "Teacher Ye," she said cheerfully, "the finance department will wire the funds this afternoon. Please keep an eye out for the text message notification."
"Alright," Ye Huanqiu replied.
Sister Zhang hurried off to report to her boss, leaving Ye Huanqiu and Yang Chaoyue alone in the café.
"I brought the master recording," Ye Huanqiu said, holding out a palm-sized CD containing the original version of "Chinese" he had recorded.
Yang Chaoyue took the CD, but her mind was elsewhere. "You're about to become financially independent," she remarked. "How does that feel?"
Over a million yuan might not mean much to Yang Chaoyue now, but when she first arrived in the Demon Capital alone, working as a dishwasher and later joining a showgirl group, she had never seen such wealth.
Early in her career, when she saw tens or even hundreds of thousands of yuan deposited into her account, she had been far more ecstatic than Ye Huanqiu seemed now. She had nearly gone crazy with joy back then.
Watching Ye Huanqiu's calm composure, Yang Chaoyue couldn't help but marvel at the value of education. She herself had dropped out of junior high.
"Not much to say. They're still building the house back home, so I'll probably have to send some money."
"Huh? I thought you were from the Demon Capital!" Yang Chaoyue exclaimed in surprise.
"...Do I look like I'm from here? I'm from the countryside. If I work another year, I might be able to get a Demon Capital *hukou*, but it's tricky since I'm a freelancer now."
Hearing that Ye Huanqiu was also from the countryside, Yang Chaoyue's chatterbox opened up.
She rarely encountered fellow rural migrants these days. Most of her colleagues were graduates from second-tier cities or larger urban centers. While they were good to work with, Yang Chaoyue struggled to find someone she could truly connect with. Even when they tried to engage with her stories about village life, they simply couldn't grasp the realities of rural life.
Ye Huanqiu, however, proved to be an excellent listener.
Before they knew it, lunchtime had arrived. This time, Yang Chaoyue insisted on treating Ye Huanqiu to a meal. The two country kids, united by shared experiences, found plenty to talk about.
Afterward, Yang Chaoyue added Ye Huanqiu on WeChat. Seeing his sparse profile—just five lines long—she realized he probably didn't have many friends, much like she used to.
Yang Chaoyue's WeChat contact list had grown considerably.
After handing the master recording to the staff for processing, she uploaded the song that afternoon to Guoyue.com, China's largest music platform. Unlike the fragmented landscape of Earth's music platforms, plagued by copyright disputes and territorial rivalries, where songs migrated between services each month, requiring users to juggle multiple apps for a complete listening experience, this parallel world's Earth Star operated differently.
Here, the Music Association, backed by official support, had developed a unified software platform with standardized features and a single fee structure.
Guoyue.com, the largest music platform counterpart to Guochuangwang, offered dedicated apps for both web and mobile. Its streamlined interface featured five major charts: daily, weekly, monthly, quarterly, and annual.
These charts were clearly divided into two categories: listening and downloads. To listen to a song in full, users paid one yuan to unlock it. While downloading wasn't possible, they could stream that specific track indefinitely.
Downloads cost three yuan, allowing users to store the file on their phones or computers for personal or family use only.
Commercial establishments like shop owners couldn't play the song publicly unless they paid ten yuan for public performance rights.
KTV karaoke rooms use music from Guoyue.com, paying royalties to the platform. Guoyue.com then distributes these royalties proportionally based on how frequently each song is requested.
Similarly, revenue from song streams and downloads is pooled quarterly. After deducting the platform's share, the remaining profits are distributed to the artists and creators.
Guochuangwang and Guoyue.com are interconnected, sharing user account information. This ensures that payments reach the rightful recipients without fail.
After leaving Yang Chaoyue's company, Ye Huanqiu didn't rush home. Instead, he went to the Rank Assessment Office. Creator rankings are based on the quality of their published works.
Now that his song had been released, Ye Huanqiu officially had a certified "Renowned Far and Wide" track. He applied for a promotion at the Rank Assessment Office.
It was time to upgrade his "Bronze One-Star" status. Ye Huanqiu intended to leverage the show's platform to rapidly advance his rank.
Once his application reached the Music Association, it would be reviewed by a panel of Platinum-tier arrangers, lyricists, and composers who jointly oversaw rank adjustments.
Normally, cases involving artists below Gold-tier wouldn't require the Music Association's full attention; a decision could typically be made by a small group of members. But this time was different. The immense impact of "Chinese" had already reached the higher-ups, and the Association had just discovered that the composer was merely a Bronze One-Star.
An investigation into Ye Huanqiu revealed no significant background beyond a Bronze-tier mentor from his early years. No prestigious teachers, no influential connections. How could someone with such limited credentials produce a song that had become Renowned Far and Wide?
Accusations of plagiarism were quickly dismissed. Guochuangwang, the national copyright platform, wasn't easily fooled; a simple check would reveal any such wrongdoing.
"He should be promoted to Gold-tier," declared an elderly member with a snow-white beard.
"Hold on," countered another Platinum-tier committee member. "This song might be a legacy piece unearthed by this kid. Even if it's not outright plagiarism, I personally doubt someone of his skill level could have composed it." This dissenting member was none other than Li Yuanjie's former teacher.
The members exchanged uneasy glances before turning to the Association President, a Diamond One-Star figure seated at the head of the table. "As you wish," he said. "Let's suppress the promotion to Silver Five-Star. Any objections?"
Silence filled the room. Even the dissenting member remained silent.
In the end, the unanimous decision was made: Ye Huanqiu would leap directly from Bronze One-Star to Silver Five-Star. To be honest, this was still a suppressed evaluation. Anyone with a discerning eye knew the immense value of a song like "Renowned Far and Wide." Even Platinum-tier writers would consider themselves fortunate to produce two or three such masterpieces in their entire careers.
Moreover, "Chinese" was a song celebrating China, making it all the more rare and precious.