After hearing Zhou Muyan’s words, Sun Xi was stunned.

Mr. Zhou, you don’t have a humanitarian bone in your body!

When he first heard about the paid vacation, his immediate reaction was a polite refusal; but now after seeing the documentary and discovering it was about making employees suffer, he eagerly agreed!

Sun Xi’s only thought was regret.

Why did he have to open his big mouth and mention this?!

Thinking about it now, Min Jingchao wasn’t humble-bragging at the beginning—he was genuinely trying to warn him!

He had already said that this Suffering Travel wasn’t a good thing. It merely had a “paid vacation” label on the surface, but in reality, it was “paid suffering”!

Both involved payment, but there was a fundamental difference between them!

Sun Xi’s face instantly turned sour as he stared in shock, unable to speak.

Indeed, there was nothing to say—it was too late to back out now…

Zhou Muyan turned to Min Jingchao: “Brother Min, as the project’s lead designer, you’ll definitely join us too, to build rapport with the team.”

Min Jingchao’s face changed immediately: “That’s really not necessary!”

“Mr. Zhou, I’ll be returning to Tenda after this project is completed. I have too many such opportunities at Tenda—why not save this opportunity for your colleagues at Tianhua Studio!”

Zhou Muyan waved his hand: “How could that work? Tenda is Tenda, and Tianhua is Tianhua. How you’re treated at Tenda is Mr. Pei’s business, but here with me, I certainly can’t shortchange you on any benefits.”

“Paid travel is a benefit for everyone in the project team—how could we possibly leave just you out? If Mr. Pei found out, wouldn’t he say I was playing favorites and mistreating you?”

“No need to decline. Although Tianhua Studio isn’t wealthy, we can certainly afford this much!”

Min Jingchao: “…”

We’re doomed.

He had originally intended to divert the disaster elsewhere, but unexpectedly, he had brought the fire upon himself!

After Zhou Muyan left, Min Jingchao and Sun Xi looked at each other, both seeing despair in each other’s eyes.

This was getting out of hand!

It could only be described with one phrase: an endless cycle of retribution.

Originally, they both had their little schemes, but now they were both trapped, like grasshoppers tied to the same rope, unable to jump free.

Min Jingchao cleared his throat and asked, “Is there any way to remedy this… Given Mr. Zhou’s personality, what might make him cancel this trip?”

Sun Xi’s face was full of despair: “Now that he’s made up his mind, I’m afraid there’s no way to cancel it…”

“However…”

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck him: “There might still be a way—the price!”

“If Suffering Travel is priced extremely high, so high that it’s ridiculous… then Mr. Zhou might give up!”

“Or he might look for other relatively more affordable alternatives.”

“But the prerequisite is that the price must be very high—high enough to seem outrageous at first glance.”

Currently, the Suffering Travel official website had only updated promotional videos and documentaries, without introducing specific factors like pricing and itinerary options.

What if the price was especially high?

If Zhou Muyan calculated the cost of arranging this for the entire project team—several dozen or even a hundred people—and found the cost exorbitant, he would naturally consider giving up or finding alternative projects.

If it was another paid travel project, even if it still involved wilderness survival, it would be much more comfortable than Suffering Travel.

This was like the difference between descending to the eighteenth level of hell versus taking a stroll on the Bridge of Helplessness.

Min Jingchao’s eyes lit up: “That makes sense!”

This was wisdom born of desperation—the moment he heard he was going to be sent to Suffering Travel, he immediately thought of a solution.

And this solution was indeed feasible.

Zhou Muyan wasn’t like Mr. Pei. Although he was generally generous to employees after a project made money, he was still relatively calculated.

His generosity in giving bonuses was also based on careful calculation—the specific percentage of bonuses given was very fixed.

If he found that Suffering Travel exceeded the budget, he would most likely cancel the trip or switch to another travel company.

And the price of Suffering Travel… needless to say, it would definitely be expensive.

Based on Min Jingchao’s understanding of Suffering Travel, it not only required special training but also careful site selection, comprehensive safety plans, and future development of their own training bases.

With all these arrangements, the expenses would be enormous, and the price was unlikely to be cheap.

Moreover, Min Jingchao could find a way to hint at Bao Xu to further increase the price.

Of course, he couldn’t explicitly ask for a price increase, but he could suggest improving the quality of service!

When service quality goes up, the price naturally rises as well.

Min Jingchao, having thought of this solution, felt like he had found hope in a desperate situation.

“This plan is feasible! We still have a chance!”

Min Jingchao felt much more at ease and while working, he slowly calculated how to persuade Bao Xu to raise prices, thereby avoiding the tragedy of the entire “Bullet Hole 2” project team going on a paid suffering trip.

There was no rush—even if they were to go suffering, it would only be after “Bullet Hole 2” was completely developed, which was still several months away.

During this period, he would observe and choose the most appropriate time to act, so as not to make himself too obvious and be targeted by Bao Xu in return.

…

…

October 29th, Monday.

Fei Huang Studio.

The once bustling Fei Huang Studio now seemed a bit deserted, with many workstations emptied out—at a glance, it felt like a holiday.

This was actually because Huang Sibo was still suffering in Shennongjia, while Zhu Xiaocai had taken a group to the United States to co-produce “The Successor,” so there weren’t many people left at Fei Huang Studio, with a large portion being responsible for animation projects.

“Agent Academy” was also on Endpoint Chinese Network’s list of adaptation works, and Pei Qian’s original requirement was to acquire an animation studio for production.

At the time, he hadn’t thought much about it, simply feeling that acquiring an animation studio would cost more money.

Later, as Pei Qian became busy with other matters, he hadn’t managed this issue anymore and had handed it over to Huang Sibo and Zhu Xiaocai to push forward.

Both of them were also busy—one suffering in Shennongjia, the other busy filming “The Successor”—so they had delegated this task to a veteran employee who was relatively knowledgeable about animation, Wu Chuan.

There were many animation studios in the industry, but not every one could be acquired. Some animation studios were thriving and extremely popular—why would they need to sell themselves?

As for those animation studios that could be acquired, they all had various internal issues to a greater or lesser extent, making careful investigation necessary before making a decision.

This workload was enormous, so since receiving this task, Wu Chuan had been gathering information from industry insiders, flying all over the country to understand the specific situations of these studios.

Later, he had successively produced several reports and submitted them, but there had been no response.

Because Zhu Xiaocai didn’t quite understand these matters and couldn’t make decisions, he could only forward them to Mr. Pei, who might not necessarily see them…

Additionally, in Pei Qian’s view, matters related to animation studios were of very low priority, so he hadn’t paid much attention and had let things drag on a bit.

But this was fine—there was still plenty of time, and more investigation certainly wouldn’t hurt.

Now Pei Qian had finally found time to visit Fei Huang Studio to settle this matter.

In the meeting room, Wu Chuan handed his research report to Pei Qian.

“Mr. Pei, these are the situations of several animation companies I’ve investigated.”

“These animation companies all have average operating conditions and could be considered for acquisition.”

“Besides these, some excellent animation companies in the industry could also be considered. Although they can’t be directly acquired, we could act as the client and request them to produce ‘Agent Academy’.”

“Mr. Pei, if you’d like to know about any particular studio, I can provide detailed answers.”

Pei Qian casually flipped through the research report.

It was clear that Wu Chuan had done a lot of homework—the information was quite detailed, including the founding years of these studios, their representative works, and other content—everything that should be there was there.

And Wu Chuan was right—acquisition wasn’t the only option. They could also choose outsourcing, which meant not buying the studio but simply collaborating on the animation.

This way, although their control over the studio would be greatly reduced, the collaborating studios would definitely be first-class, top-tier studios in the industry. As long as they paid enough, the quality of the output would be even more guaranteed.

After quickly scanning through the representative works of these studios, Pei Qian frowned.

It seemed too reliable!

He had heard of or seen many of the representative works of these studios and knew that in the domestic animation circle, they were all considered very reliable choices.

If they were acquired, combined with Tenda’s reputation, wouldn’t that be too powerful?

Although Pei Qian thought the script for “Agent Academy” was pretty average, with the bonus of these animation studios and some inexplicable popularity, it might unexpectedly become a hit!

This risk still existed.

Pei Qian pondered for a moment, then said, “These animation studios… all seem to have their respective problems.”

Wu Chuan nodded slightly, thinking that Mr. Pei indeed had high standards.

For so many notable studios in the industry to be described as “each with their own problems” demonstrated Mr. Pei’s unique and sharp vision.

But the problem was… there weren’t any other options.

Wu Chuan said, “Mr. Pei, these are all the research results for now. If you’re not satisfied, there aren’t better options.”

“If necessary, I could look for foreign companies, but cooperation with foreign companies would certainly be more complicated.”

Pei Qian waved his hand: “That’s not necessary.”

“What I mean is, why don’t we just build an animation studio from scratch ourselves?”

Originally, he had wanted to buy something ready-made, preferably one that could lose a lot of money.

But after investigation, he discovered that such good opportunities weren’t easy to come by, and the risk was still a bit high.

If that was the case, why not do it themselves?

Animation was generally a field that required accumulation and professional talent. Rather than acquiring a studio that was already well-coordinated with established workflows, wouldn’t building an animation studio from scratch have a higher possibility of failure?

Wu Chuan hesitated, then said, “But Mr. Pei, as mentioned at the beginning, we don’t have any technical accumulation in this area. Making this studio operate smoothly would likely be quite difficult.”

“Many things can’t be solved simply by throwing money at them.”

Pei Qian chuckled—isn’t that perfect?

Problems that can’t be solved with money are the ones that burn the most money!