Chapter 88: "Spokesperson"

“All right! Here’s your breakfast, enjoy it at your leisure.”

There is a particular advantage to having breakfast at a shop around three or four in the morning—the food arrives incredibly fast. As soon as Li Mi and Zhou Ran decided what to order, the owner swiftly brought over their breakfast, leaving no time for waiting.

They stuck to their usual choices: two baskets of steamed buns, one basket of siu mai, and each of them had a bowl of tofu pudding. When the owner placed the dishes on their table, Zhou Ran and Li Mi exchanged a smile. This feeling was so familiar—it was just like the breakfasts they shared a few months before.

At that moment, watching the owner set down the plates, Zhou Ran felt as if he had traveled back in time to his trainee days. Everything was exactly as it had been: the same restaurant, the same owner, the same people, and the same food.

Though Li Mi used to be Zhou Ran’s superior, she never put on airs. She would still join Zhou Ran and his friends for breakfast at this very shop, or sometimes for dinner when they had time. During the meal, Zhou Ran and Li Li didn’t talk much. They simply tasted each other’s food and reminisced about the past.

For Zhou Ran, the meal was a rare moment of peace. For once, he didn’t have to think about his identity, his acting career, or any of his work responsibilities. In this instant, he was just an ordinary person, spending time with a close friend and older sister, going out for a simple meal just like anyone else, without worrying about paparazzi lurking nearby.

But leisure is always fleeting. No matter how slowly they ate, the breakfast eventually came to an end. After eating for more than half an hour, both of them were full.

Good times are always short; in the end, people must return to reality and their work. Zhou Ran understood this well.

After breakfast, Zhou Ran specifically asked Li Mi to take him back to the hotel, as he needed to rest before returning to the film set in the afternoon. Li Mi nodded in agreement, understanding that everyone had their own busy schedules to attend to. Rest was important, but their work remained the priority. After her own rest, Li Mi would also have to focus on Zhou Ran’s various affairs.

Zhou Ran already had enough on his plate, and now, with his six nominations for the Chinese Golden Melody Awards, he had become the youngest Best Male Singer in the country’s history—without exception. He was now unrivaled among his generation of young singers.

Naturally, every brand wanted him as their ambassador. Zhou Ran was the most obvious choice, and his workload only increased. Li Mi estimated that, at this rate, even if endorsements were scheduled out two or three years in advance, there still wouldn’t be enough time for all the offers.

However, Zhou Ran’s team had no intention of accepting any endorsements immediately. Their initial strategy was to take things slowly, not rushing into contracts with any company, treating Zhou Ran’s availability as something rare and valuable. As long as he maintained his current performance, his endorsement fees would only rise.

So far, their plan was working. Even before the Golden Melody Awards, Zhou Ran’s endorsement fee hovered around eighty million yuan for two years—a figure that was already top-tier in the Chinese-speaking world. After winning all six of his nominations and becoming the youngest Best Male Singer, Li Mi estimated that his endorsement fee could easily start at one hundred million yuan for two years. In just a day or two, his value had increased by another twenty million.

Brands are willing to pay such extraordinary figures because top celebrities have an astonishing ability to drive sales. If a brand fully utilizes a star’s potential, that star can single-handedly revive an entire company. This phenomenon had appeared many times in Zhou Ran’s previous life as well.

For example, a men’s wardrobe brand in a certain country once saw its market value skyrocket several times over after choosing the right celebrity ambassador. Such examples were common in his past life.

This demonstrates just how powerful top celebrities can be at generating income. Of course, these sky-high fees depend on the celebrity’s ability to boost sales for the brand. Zhou Ran’s exceptional endorsement fees were also a result of the incredible sales of his new album.

Both celebrity endorsements and album sales share a common thread: they rely on the immense purchasing power of fans. If Zhou Ran’s album could achieve such staggering sales, it was obvious what he could do for a product.

His team estimated that he would only start accepting endorsement deals after the release of his first film. For now, they were merely in the preliminary evaluation stage. No matter what, the quality of the products had to be rigorously vetted.

Quality was the top priority for Zhou Ran’s studio. Negotiations about price could come later; those were minor details. After all, the quality of endorsed products could greatly affect a celebrity’s reputation. Many stars had been vilified online because of problems with products they endorsed.

Some celebrities hadn’t even used the products themselves before lending their name to them. If something went wrong, who else could be blamed but the spokesperson?

With endorsement fees so high, responsibility had to be taken seriously, which made product selection especially crucial. This was precisely Li Mi’s responsibility. Whenever a new endorsement offer arrived, she would personally visit the company’s facilities, inspect the details, and purchase products to test their quality.

Li Mi firmly believed in the principle that real knowledge comes from personal experience. One must see things with their own eyes before having the right to speak. Their actions had to be worthy of their fans; otherwise, if even they didn’t want to use the product, how could they ask their fans to buy it? That would be truly lacking in integrity.