Seeing that Mr. Pei seemed to be deep in thought, Zhao Xuming didn’t dare ask further questions and waited patiently.

Obviously, this matter was of no small importance and must involve certain other industries within Tenda Group, as well as the overall strategic layout.

Otherwise, for a simple matter of exclusive broadcasting rights, couldn’t they just raise the price and sell it?

With Mr. Pei’s intelligence, he surely wouldn’t need to think for so long.

Zhao Xuming felt reassured again—it seems his decision to come and ask for guidance was correct.

Now this thorny problem had been handed to Mr. Pei, letting him make the decision. How wonderful.

However, after a moment of silence, Mr. Pei asked: “Mr. Zhao, let me ask you a question. Feel free to speak your mind.”

Zhao Xuming was stunned: “Huh?”

What happened to Mr. Pei making the decision while I just needed to cooperate?

Why is Mr. Pei testing me?

After a moment of surprise, he nodded: “Alright, Mr. Pei. Please go ahead.”

Pei Qian stroked his chin, pondering as he spoke: “Mr. Zhao, do you think there might be a way…”

“To sell the broadcasting rights very cheaply, at a very low price, even basically giving them away to these streaming platforms, while still making it seem reasonable and well-justified.”

After careful consideration, Pei Qian had concluded that none of the three methods were reliable.

The first two weren’t even worth discussing—too much profit.

Exclusive broadcasting rights might fetch an astronomical price, and while selling broadcasting rights to multiple platforms might not reach such heights, the combined sum from all these platforms would still be substantial.

The third option seemed good, but Pei Qian’s long-developed instincts told him this method carried the greatest risk, with potential profits likely coming from long-term effects.

Rabbit Tail Live had finally begun to show results under his brilliant guidance and Ma Yang’s supervision. It had just grown into a seedling of a money-burning tree. If they used it to handle the fire that was the GOG Global Invitational, what if the fire wasn’t contained and instead burned this small seedling?

This consequence would be unbearable!

After all, no matter how high the price for broadcasting rights, it was only a one-time deal, but if the money-burning tree disappeared, that would create endless troubles.

If the money-burning tree turned into a money-making tree, that would be an eternal regret stemming from a single misstep.

So Pei Qian wasn’t willing to choose any of these three methods.

What he wanted most was to give away the broadcasting rights as cheaply as possible, earning as little as possible.

But the problem was, how could they just give away something so valuable to those streaming platforms? Aside from whether people would be suspicious or have objections, the System wouldn’t approve it either.

Since Pei Qian couldn’t think of a better solution himself, he decided to ask Mr. Zhao.

To see if there was a way to sell the broadcasting rights as cheaply as possible while still appearing reasonable and well-justified, thus earning less.

Ideally, all platforms would broadcast the GOG Global Invitational without spending much money, so Tenda wouldn’t earn too much, and Rabbit Tail Live wouldn’t gain too much popularity—that would be perfect.

Zhao Xuming was stunned for a moment, then his mind began racing.

What? Judging from Mr. Pei’s tone, it seemed he wasn’t satisfied with any of the three options provided?

Mr. Pei’s tone suggested he was making a bold assumption, seeking my opinion, implying such a method might not necessarily exist—if it didn’t exist, so be it; if it did, even better.

But how could that be possible!

When a leader asks if something can be done, they’re actually expecting only one answer from you.

Zhao Xuming wasn’t stupid; he certainly wouldn’t think Mr. Pei was asking casually.

Mr. Pei’s meaning was clear—he already had a rough idea and was testing me!

This was a hint, and if I couldn’t pick up on it, my days as a department head were likely numbered.

Zhao Xuming didn’t dare slack off. Assuming Mr. Pei had already thought of a better solution, he began carefully analyzing Mr. Pei’s words.

Evidently, Mr. Pei wasn’t very satisfied with any of the three options.

Upon reflection, Zhao Xuming realized it might be because these three options were too ordinary—exactly what any mediocre company would do, not in line with Tenda’s characteristic of doing the unexpected.

So Mr. Pei was hinting at a more special approach.

What approach could that be?

Mr. Pei had said to sell the broadcasting rights very cheaply, at a very low price, even basically giving them away to these streaming platforms, while still making it seem reasonable and well-justified.

This requirement seemed quite unreasonable on the surface.

Who would actively seek to undersell their own broadcasting rights?

By saying this, Mr. Pei was clearly hinting that: money wasn’t the primary consideration; instead, they should look further ahead.

The deal itself absolutely couldn’t result in a loss, but the content of the transaction needed to change from money to something else.

What was more important than money?

Obviously, it was popularity, or in other words, more long-term profits.

In other words, Mr. Pei was suggesting they forego the immediate money from selling exclusive broadcasting rights and instead find a way to gain higher popularity or broader influence, thus earning more money in the future.

This future money might come from GOG’s market expansion, Rabbit Tail Live’s popularity, or perhaps some other industries.

Zhao Xuming’s brain worked rapidly, with many potential solutions immediately coming to mind.

He was actually quite good at developing strategies.

Previously, many proposals had been his ideas, though Eric had been the one to make the final decisions.

Now, with Mr. Pei’s inspiration and a bit of divergent thinking, he immediately came up with some ideas.

“Mr. Pei, how about this?”

“To achieve the effect you mentioned, the best approach would be to avoid fixed pricing and instead provide a dynamic price range.”

Pei Qian’s eyes lit up as he listened.

Indeed!

With fixed pricing, the income would be very stable and predictable. Regardless of size, these streaming platforms would either be able to afford it or not. With uniform pricing, setting it too low wouldn’t be approved by the System.

But if they made the rules complex and ambiguous, establishing a dynamic price range, wouldn’t it be normal to nudge prices downward within those rules? The System wouldn’t have much to say either.

Once the rules became complex, it would be easier to manipulate them.

Pei Qian nodded: “Continue.”

Encouraged by Mr. Pei’s affirmation, Zhao Xuming’s confidence surged as he continued: “This dynamic price range would ultimately result in large platforms paying more and small platforms paying less, otherwise it wouldn’t meet your requirement of being ‘reasonable and well-justified.'”

“My idea is as follows: we charge based on each platform’s viewership numbers—platforms with more viewers pay more, those with fewer viewers pay less. Of course, we’d need a specific conversion formula to ensure this coefficient is reasonable.”

Zhao Xuming meant that larger platforms inherently had more resources and would gain more popularity from the GOG Global Invitational, so paying more made sense; smaller platforms had fewer resources, so they should pay less.

But they couldn’t base it entirely on popularity, since larger platforms naturally had higher popularity. If large platforms had to pay exorbitant prices for broadcasting rights while small platforms could obtain the same rights for much less, it would seem unfair.

So while the fees would be dynamic, they would need a relatively fair formula.

“Additionally, we can require these streaming platforms to provide corresponding promotional resources based on these figures, which can be used for discounts.”

“This would satisfy your earlier requirement of ‘providing broadcasting rights to these streaming platforms at relatively low prices.'”

Pei Qian couldn’t help but nod slightly.

Well done, Mr. Zhao!

This approach seemed feasible.

The key to Zhao Xuming’s proposal lay in two points: first, incorporating viewership numbers into the fee standard, and second, converting money into promotional resources.

These two points perfectly met Pei Qian’s requirements!

First, Zhao Xuming’s original intention was to link fees to the platforms’ actual viewership, but Pei Qian thought it would be better to use popularity metrics instead.

This was because viewership numbers were inflated across all platforms, and Pei Qian didn’t want to ask these platforms for real numbers—he would just go by the popularity figures.

And popularity metrics were clearly adjustable.

If streaming platforms wanted to spend less money, they could simply lower the popularity index on their streaming pages, which wouldn’t have any substantial impact on the platform.

If streaming platforms secretly made an adjustment, wouldn’t Tenda receive less money?

Moreover, this approach also included smaller platforms that previously couldn’t afford to bid for broadcasting rights, which on one hand could make Tenda seem generous, and on the other hand, could be explained to the System as “high volume, low margin.”

Second, converting money into promotional resources was also a good approach.

This meant that platforms wouldn’t have to pay entirely in cash but could supplement with their own promotional resources.

But in reality, these platforms would have invested heavily in promoting the GOG Global Invitational anyway.

Because their promotion of the GOG Global Invitational would essentially drive traffic to themselves.

So if Tenda asked for these resources, it would clearly be redundant.

It would be like going shopping where the store already planned to offer a buy-one-get-one-free deal, and then you pay an extra five yuan to ask the store to give you the same deal. Wouldn’t that be a waste of five yuan?

But this approach was reasonable and convincing in itself.

It seemed to be a more satisfactory solution than the previous three options!

Pei Qian was very pleased with this: “Well done, Mr. Zhao, this is an excellent plan!”

“However, there’s one detail that needs adjustment: instead of charging based on actual viewership, charge according to each platform’s popularity metrics.”

Currently, almost all domestic streaming platforms no longer displayed actual viewer counts in their live streams; they had all uniformly switched to popularity metrics.

Except for Rabbit Tail Live.

But Rabbit Tail Live was a special case, being their own property. Unless they sold exclusive rights with a contract explicitly stating that Rabbit Tail Live couldn’t broadcast, they would certainly have broadcasting rights.

Zhao Xuming was taken aback.

According to each platform’s popularity metrics?

Those were all fake numbers! They could be changed at will!

If a company lowered their figures, wouldn’t they be able to pay less?

Could Mr. Pei not have thought of this?

That couldn’t be; he must have considered it.

But why specifically point this out and insist on making this change?

Zhao Xuming was puzzled, but he didn’t ask further.

Because asking would suggest his comprehension skills were lacking.

It was better to agree first, then go back and study it carefully. If necessary, he could consult Eric or Min Jingchao.

Even if he still couldn’t understand it in the end, it didn’t matter, since the decision was Mr. Pei’s, and he wouldn’t need to take the blame.

With this in mind, Zhao Xuming nodded: “Alright, Mr. Pei. I’ll go back and draft a proposal right away, exactly as you suggested!”