The two of them muttered to the side for a while. Finally, Guo Ziyi smugly smoothed his hair and walked over energetically at the front.
"Hello, Eason. Let me reintroduce myself. I’m now my brother’s temporary agent, fully in charge of the negotiation for this song." Guo Ziyi said with a grin.
Eason Chan was taken aback for a moment. He extended his hand and shook Guo Ziyi’s, and the atmosphere instantly turned formal.
Of course, it looked ridiculous—a thirty-year-old guy like Yang Yi sitting in the back without a word, letting a little fat kid with barely any hair on his chin speak for him, while the big star Eason Chan showed no airs at all. The scene was just too incongruous!
"Actually, I’m not too familiar with how things work on the mainland." Eason Chan pulled out a contract, looking sincerely at Yang Yi and Guo Ziyi. "Before I came, my agent prepared this set of contracts."
Guo Ziyi took it and flipped through it. He hadn’t actually dealt with this type of contract before, but the kid was sharp and quickly found the key points.
"Fifty thousand yuan to buy my brother’s song? That’s way too cheap, isn’t it?" Guo Ziyi pursed his lips and said. "Eason, don’t think I don’t know the ropes. Earlier this year, Hong Kong media exposed that Heavenly King Lau paid Teacher Lin Chiqing a million yuan in writing fees for the song he wrote, let alone the royalties written into the contract."
Eason Chan was a bit stunned. "There’s no comparison there. Teacher Lin is Hong Kong’s top genius; he’s already written many classic works. But Mr. Yang, with all due respect, we’ve already offered a very high price for a newcomer."
"But my brother isn’t an ordinary newcomer!" Guo Ziyi gave a sly smile and said. "Eason, you gave this song a pretty high rating, didn’t you? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come all the way to Jiangcheng yourself, right?"
Eason Chan wasn’t really good at negotiating either; his agent usually handled it. But this time, he’d come in a hurry, and his agent had to stay behind to clean up the mess he’d left, so Eason Chan had to go it alone.
"Yes, I really like Mr. Yang’s song." Eason Chan said sincerely. "Whether it’s the Hong Kong or mainland circles, there are strict rules. I can push the royalty fee to a maximum of eighty thousand yuan—it can’t go any higher."
Afraid Yang Yi might take offense, he added proactively, "Of course, if Mr. Yang’s song achieves great results, and we collaborate again next time, that amount will increase significantly! Because by then, Mr. Yang won’t be a pure newcomer anymore."
"How about letting my brother write a slightly worse song for you and save this one for the next sale?" Guo Ziyi said with a grin. "My brother’s song is good enough to be your lead single. Selling it cheap would be such a pity!"
Eason Chan was at a loss. He felt this little fat kid was too cunning, and his own straightforward nature couldn’t keep up. "So, what do you think we should do?"
Guo Ziyi glanced at Yang Yi, who gave him a slight nod.
They’d discussed it earlier. Yang Yi didn’t plan to set harsh terms—after all, this was recommended by Old Master Hu. He owed the old man a big favor, and making exorbitant demands wasn’t Yang Yi’s style.
Guo Ziyi understood. He cleared his throat twice and said, "Eason, you have your difficulties, and I can understand that. How about this: let’s change the terms and raise the royalty split instead?"
"How would we raise it?"
Guo Ziyi patted his chest and said boldly, "Eason, we won’t take advantage of you. If this song doesn’t help you get a platinum record, we’ll stick to the original contract’s eight percent split!"
In this world, copyright income was very high, and that high value came from the sales split. Record companies still took the biggest share, but it wasn’t as extreme as in Yang Yi’s past life. Record companies could take up to forty percent at most, while record stores or other channels took fifteen to twenty percent.
The remaining forty percent was divided among the singer, lyricist, composer, producer, and the copyright association.
The copyright association’s cut was high, reaching two percent, but that was precisely why they had enough financial resources to maintain the operation of this massive organization, ensuring creators got their due returns!
The split for lyricists and composers wasn’t fixed; it depended on negotiations between the creator and the record company. However, eight percent was indeed the standard for a newcomer—after all, lyricists and composers each got four percent, which was relatively low even on the mainland!
Of course, this eight percent would still need to be calculated through a complex weighted algorithm based on the number of songs in the album and the performance of Yang Yi’s song, to precisely determine his share of the income.
"As far as I know, Eason, you haven’t released a platinum album in three years, right?" Guo Ziyi hit the nail on the head.
Eason Chan nodded silently. He didn’t deny his strong desire to return to his peak.
"If this album of yours reaches platinum record status, we’re asking for a sixteen percent split!" Guo Ziyi dropped a bombshell. "And that has to be written into the contract!"
"Sixteen percent?" Eason Chan was shocked. "That’s too much! Even top-tier lyricists and composers don’t get that split."
Sixteen percent was indeed high. As a singer, Eason Chan typically only got fifteen to twenty percent, and the twenty percent high split was from when he was at the peak of the Hong Kong music scene.
"Eason, we’re talking about after achieving results! If my brother’s song helps you sell a platinum disc, don’t you think that split is worth it?" Guo Ziyi said with a grin. "If it’s not platinum, we’re actually losing out with the eight percent split!"
Eason Chan smiled bitterly. He felt completely at a disadvantage in the negotiation with Guo Ziyi, who had firmly grasped his eagerness to prove himself.
"I need to make a call and discuss it with the company." Eason Chan stood up and said flatly.
After Eason Chan walked away, Guo Ziyi let out a long sigh of relief, his serious expression turning back into a lazy one. "Oh my god, that was so nerve-wracking."
Yang Yi chuckled and patted him on the shoulder, giving him a thumbs-up.
"Brother Yang, since I worked so hard, can I skip work later?" Guo Ziyi shamelessly grinned.
Yang Yi squinted and chuckled. "No."
"Ah? Come on!" Guo Ziyi flopped onto the sofa and wailed. "Boss, even if I don’t get credit, I’ve got the effort!"
A hint of a smile crept onto Yang Yi’s lips. He said, "You still have to work, but since you put in so much effort, I’ll make you a French feast today!"
That was the biggest motivator. Guo Ziyi perked up in surprise and sat up. "Really? Then I want medium-rare pan-seared steak, pan-fried foie gras, escargot..."
Yang Yi rolled his eyes and said, "No foie gras, no escargot. I’ll cook whatever I make, and you eat it!"
Foie gras and escargot—Yang Yi wanted them too! But in Jiangcheng, he still hadn’t figured out where to buy such top-tier ingredients.