Lingling is Good

Young Master Cao was not joking.

He was genuinely prepared to sue them.

Was he being overly serious?

Not really.

It was more about having money to burn and nowhere to spend it.

He specifically hired a few slick lawyers, paid them to do nothing but keep an eye on those "rumormongers."

As soon as any gossip about Young Master Cao surfaced, the lawyers would hound them, dragging them to court relentlessly.

He wouldn’t let them have a single peaceful day.

Truth be told, Young Master Cao wasn’t afraid of rumors—he had an impenetrable reputation.

Gossip couldn’t touch him; at worst, a few envious netizens might curse him online, and that was it.

But Cao Cheng still insisted on suing these rumor-spreaders.

Negative attention? Might as well take it—it’s free!

...

Over the next few days,

Young Master Cao visited many places, even Lingling’s school.

Wearing masks, the two walked side by side, hand in hand, looking every bit like a young couple.

Later, they went to the Forbidden City to admire the central axis.

As for the Great Wall?

They skipped that.

It was way too damn cold.

But here’s the strange thing—if an old married couple braved the freezing cold, they’d be miserable, desperate to get back home and bask in the warmth of their heater.

But for young lovers newly fallen into the throes of romance, no matter how icy the world outside, as long as they were together, anywhere was a joyful adventure.

They could even convince themselves that the biting wind wasn’t so harsh—it was more like a matchmaker, pushing them closer… to huddle together for warmth!

Of course,

the two were just friends. Nothing romantic.

...

Officially, this was a business trip.

But work was the last thing on his mind.

It wasn’t until a week later, when Xu Qing called, that Cao Cheng suddenly remembered—

Oh shit, I’m actually here for work.

Ugh.

The comfort of a woman’s company—every man’s speed bump!

He’d been here a whole week and hadn’t even set foot in the headquarters.

This…

Wasn’t this a bit too irresponsible?

Whatever.

Who cares.

"Brother, are you starting work today?" Lingling asked softly over breakfast, a hint of reluctance in her voice after Cao Cheng hung up the phone.

She was understanding.

Obedient.

And kind-hearted.

She would never disrupt his real responsibilities just because she wanted his company.

"Not too busy, but I have a small meeting to attend—the final bidding war for the Spring Festival Gala ad slots. I just need to show my face, give the company some confidence."

"Want to come with me?"

"Can I?" Lingling’s eyes lit up.

"Of course."

Cao Cheng smiled. "Finish your breakfast, then we’ll go together."

...

At 10 a.m.,

Cao Cheng arrived with Lingling at the venue for the "2010 CCTV Golden Resource Advertising Bidding Conference."

The place was already packed with entrepreneurs.

Marketing teams from major corporations, even CEOs of big-name companies, had come in person.

After all, the advertising slots during the Spring Festival Gala were fiercely contested prizes for many industry giants.

Especially in traditional sectors.

Back then, the real economy still ruled.

Appliances, alcohol, beverages, pharmaceuticals—these were the big spenders in advertising.

Unlike later years, when internet companies would storm in, casually dropping massive sponsorships and tossing out billions in red envelopes to the entire nation.

...

As Cao Cheng entered the room,

eyes turned toward him—some surprised, some curious, some baffled…

It seemed many couldn’t figure out why he was here.

People knew him.

And precisely because they knew him, they were aware that Young Master Cao’s empire consisted mainly of financial investments and entertainment ventures.

Did those kinds of companies even need advertising?

Hardly!

He could just create another "The Voice" and rake in ad revenue while promoting his own brands.

Why bother with CCTV?

Too much free time?

The crowd murmured inwardly.

But soon, they snapped out of it, offering warm greetings—the atmosphere quickly turning congenial.

After all, there was room for collaboration.

Everyone wanted a piece of the next season of "The Voice."

They couldn’t let Wahaha Group hog all the benefits.

So,

before long, the group was chatting amiably.

Lingling, arm-in-arm with Cao Cheng, carried herself with the poise of a successful man’s leading lady.

...

The venue grew increasingly crowded.

It felt more like a high-society mixer than a bidding conference.

Soon, the massive hall was filled to the brim.

Alcohol companies clustered on the left.

Home appliance giants gathered on the right.

Pharmaceutical reps occupied the center.

Food and beverage brands took the back rows.

Of course,

this wasn’t about hierarchy—just industry groupings.

Which left Cao Cheng’s contingent somewhat isolated, with no cosmetics companies present to form a natural bloc.

...

A short while later,

CCTV’s representatives arrived.

Another twenty minutes of greetings and small talk passed before things got down to business.

The big screen displayed the various ad categories:

New Year’s Greeting Board Ads, Title Sponsorships, Prize Sponsorships, Scene Placement Ads, Prop Placement Ads, Dialogue Placement Ads, Backdrop Ads, and more.

Most of the gala’s programs had already been finalized in rehearsals.

So,

if a company secured a prop placement deal, they’d work directly with the show—like Liu Qian’s magic act, where the props themselves became ad space.

Or Zhao Benshan’s skits, where a well-placed brand mention in the dialogue could be worth millions.

Every second was money.

Unless you’d been part of these bidding wars, you’d never believe how much CCTV could make.

Even Young Master Cao was impressed.

But he didn’t bid on anything yet—he was waiting!

...

Soon,

one ad slot after another was claimed.

All by major brands…

The Spring Festival Gala Commentary Title Sponsorship went to Langjiu.

Zhao Benshan’s skit placements were snatched up by Guojiao, Sohu, and Sogou.

Liu Qian’s magic props were secured by Huiyuan Juice.

The products on the audience tables went to Wahaha Group—technically Cao Cheng’s money too, since he was a major shareholder.

And after "The Voice," Wahaha had skyrocketed to become the top beverage and bottled water giant in the country, rolling in cash.

Mengniu Dairy also secured spots on the audience tables.

The spending frenzy was unreal, with multiple rounds of bidding.

Finally…

it was time for the New Year Countdown Sponsorship.

In previous years, this slot had always gone to Midea, the home appliance titan.

This year, everyone assumed it would be no different.

But…

no one knew that Cao Cheng was gunning for it—and he wouldn’t be outbid.

...

The bidding process varied by category.

Some were sealed bids, others were live auctions, and a few were online purchases.

No fixed rules.

Just whatever worked best for the slot.

Earlier ads had been live auctions or direct negotiations.

But for the "Countdown Sponsorship," it was a sealed bid.

"Boss, how much should we bid?"

Xu Qing had done his homework, whispering to Cao Cheng, "Midea’s taken this slot for years. Whether there’s under-the-table dealing, who knows, but CCTV definitely favors them."

"Also,"

"last year, they won with 47.01 million."

"The year before, 42.81 million."

"Oddly precise numbers!"

"I wouldn’t be surprised if they had insider info on competitors’ bids."

Xu Qing approached everything with a healthy dose of skepticism.

And he wasn’t wrong.

In the business world, never assume your competitors play fair. The more cautious, meticulous, and shameless you are, the better!

Xu Qing added, "Based on this growth rate, this year's New Year countdown ad slot is estimated to surpass 50 million."

"Fifty million for ten seconds—that's five million per second at minimum."

"No wonder viewers joke that this ad is literally priced by the second."

Cao Cheng nodded, then turned to Lingling beside him and asked with a smile, "How much do you think we should bid this year?"

"Huh?" Lingling froze—she had no clue about these things.

Cao Cheng encouraged her, "Just say whatever comes to mind. You heard what your sister Xu Qing just said. How much do you think Midea will secretly bid this time?"

Lingling’s face scrunched up in hesitation before she stammered, "Fifty-one… fifty-one million?"

Cao Cheng chuckled. "And how much should we bid to secure it?"

"51.01 million. No, wait—51.02 million."

Cao Cheng burst into laughter.

Lingling was sharp.

From Xu Qing’s earlier remarks, she’d picked up that Midea had a habit of adding an extra 10,000 as a tail figure.

Whether it was 42.81 million the year before last or 47.01 million last year…

They always played it close.

So, if this year’s estimate was around 51 million, they’d need to outbid by at least 20,000 to edge them out.

Cao Cheng gently patted Lingling’s hair before turning back to Xu Qing. "What do you think, Qingjie?"

Xu Qing replied, "To be safe, 52.02! Or even 53.02!"

"But," she hesitated, "that price is honestly a bit steep. The cost-effectiveness isn’t great. With that kind of money, we might as well save it for next year’s The Voice and sponsor a smaller segment. That’d give us way more bang for the buck."

Xu Qing wasn’t wrong.

Her reasoning made sense.

The Voice was, after all, their young master’s own show. Even if advertising still cost money, they’d naturally get preferential treatment.

That’s just how things worked—spending the same amount but achieving vastly different results.

A casual mention by the host or a contestant could easily spark interest in a product.

That was the advantage of owning the platform.

...

However.

Xu Qing’s vision was limited.

At least compared to Cao Cheng’s foresight.

Truth be told, their cosmetics company had only just finalized its products and wasn’t fully prepared yet.

But Cao Cheng was eager to jump into the bidding war.

Because he had his eyes on this year’s Spring Festival Gala ratings.

Was 50 million for a ten-second countdown expensive?

Absolutely.

It was astronomical.

Five years ago, the same slot cost just 5 million.

In half a decade, the price had nearly multiplied tenfold.

Highway robbery.

But one had to understand the Spring Festival Gala’s current standing.

This year might be its peak—its highest viewership ever, if Cao Cheng remembered correctly.

Close to 40%.

What did that mean?

At least half the country would be watching.

Especially during the ten-second countdown to midnight. Though brief, the spotlight effect was unparalleled. Everyone’s eyes would be glued to those final seconds of the year.

It was the perfect moment to plant their brand into the public’s subconscious.

That was the key.

Making people instinctively recognize the brand later: This brand is huge! This brand is badass! This brand is the real deal!

Buy it!

Better than some no-name alternative, right?

No small variety show could match this impact. Even if Wahaha made a killing on The Voice, it still wouldn’t come close.

Especially for a new company.

Cao Cheng had more marketing plans lined up too.

He took the sealed bid document and, without hesitation, scrawled a figure.

"66.66!"

"..."