Chapter 31: A Turning Point in Life

The Breaking Cocoon Talent Agency almost always worked late.

As the only department in the company not required to work fixed hours, the entire staff of the Breaking Cocoon Agency spent their days rushing across the country, and sometimes even the world, to secure advertisements, solicit investments, and find brand ambassadors. They were the only department at Breaking Cocoon that directly generated revenue, and their high compensation was matched by equally high standards and rigorous demands.

Even on the last workday before the New Year, while other departments were busy cleaning up and hanging festive decorations, the agency remained busy until the final second.

"That is the gist of the contract. The company will handle the entire process for you; it will not impose any restrictions or have any negative impact on you. The advertisement will be placed via targeted traffic in the comment section, appearing just like a regular comment, except clicking it will lead to our book-buying link. Technically, this is platform promotion, which originally had nothing to do with you. However, the client specifically requested it be promoted under your videos, so we wanted to seek your consent."

Lin Ke had no idea what was written in the thick business contract. Just like when she first joined the company, the sight of these words gave her a headache.

"Is there anything I need to do?"

Michael smiled and pushed the contract toward her. "You don't need to do anything. You just need to be informed and agree to the terms. Consider it your advertising income; it will be paid directly to you."

The intern sitting nearby, showing great initiative, flipped the contract to the revenue-sharing page. In the small print, Lin Ke’s eyes immediately locked onto the bolded number.

"One hundred thousand? For me?"

Her voice wavered, losing its composure. Lin Ke truly couldn't help it; she had never seen so much money in her life!

Michael uncapped a pen and handed it to her, smiling. "You will need to pay your own individual income tax. You might need to settle the difference during next year's filing."

Lin Ke didn't hear a word of that; she simply picked up the pen and signed her name.

At a monthly salary of 5,000 yuan, 100,000 yuan was enough to last her a year and eight months! Had she not signed with Breaking Cocoon, she would have been killing herself working as a streamer for a mere 2,000 yuan a month!

With this 100,000 yuan, she wouldn't have to agonize over whether to go home for the New Year, and she could finally afford her father’s surgery! At this point, forget advertising—she’d even do live-stream sales if they asked!

"Understood, Director. I’m willing. I’ll do whatever the company says."

Michael was satisfied. The year had finally ended on a high note.

"Alright, that’s everything. You can head home once the money hits your account. Happy New Year."

Lin Ke couldn't hide her joy as she bowed deeply. "Thank you, Director!"

One hundred thousand! It was hers! And she didn't even have to do a thing!

Lin Ke had never been so grateful for choosing the path of a streamer, nor so thankful for that night when, after her landlord cut the power, she had marched out onto the street and eventually met the big shot, Cheng Guanzhi. Back then, Lin Ke could never have imagined that her life had changed irrevocably from that day on.

"Ugh, provincial," the intern, Bob, muttered once Lin Ke was out of earshot.

"She’s blinded by a hundred thousand yuan and didn't even read the contract. The legal team is right—these uneducated little streamers are so easy to fool."

Do good things really fall from the sky? You don't have to do anything, and you just get handed money for nothing? Once her traffic drops and her exposure fades, and the advertisers come knocking, she’ll realize just how hard that money is to keep. Besides, even if she maintains her current popularity, that’s the company’s performance and the company’s traffic. She wouldn't get a cut of whatever the company sells! Oh, wait—it’s not entirely unrelated. If the products turn out to be faulty, well, the streamer would probably have to take the blame, right?

Michael explained kindly, "They’re just best-selling books, not food or physical goods. There won't be any issues. For a streamer, it’s all gain and no pain. As for traffic and exposure, that’s entirely up to the company. When a windfall drops from the sky, no one can resist."

"It’s just a hundred thousand. That’s money the company is spending on her. When she eventually breaks her contract, she’ll realize how many times over she has to pay it back."

Michael shook his head. "My dear young master, not everyone has the family background you do, treating work as a mere life experience. You have no idea: someone who is drowning won't just reach for a straw—they’d grab a crocodile if they saw one."

Bob was the most difficult intern he had ever managed—incompetent, demanding, lazy, and incapable of shouldering any real responsibility. But then again, these gilded youths were useful for bringing in business.

The channel for these self-help bestseller books was thanks to the connections of that young master’s father. Otherwise, how could an intern become a director’s assistant so easily?

"Get going. It’s late. I’ll finish organizing these documents before I leave; you don't need to stay."

Bob had already unknotted his tie. "Is that okay, Michael? You’re the boss, after all; shouldn't you be letting someone else handle the paperwork?"

Michael laughed, "Get out of here. Do you think you’d even know how to handle it if I let you?"

"Oh, right, I just remembered I have plans. A girl is waiting for me. I’m off! See you next year!"

Bob scurried out of the office. Michael leaned back in his chair to rest for a while before pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.

Smoking wasn't allowed in the office building, but this was his private office, and the hallway was already deserted. The lights in the lobby were off, leaving only a few indicator lights glowing in the dark. The director’s office, encased in glass walls, cast the only light in the corridor through the blinds, until—*click*—it suddenly went dark.

Michael looked up.

It clearly wasn't a power outage; a blackout in this bustling part of the metropolis was unthinkable.

The building's central air conditioning had long since switched to night mode, and cold air, laced with dust, swirled through the empty hallway. The office door opened again, and a slender figure stepped into the room, silhouetted against the dim light of the corridor.

With a soft *click*, the door locked from the inside.

"Still busy?"

When Monroe pushed open the door to the director’s office, she intentionally let her heels click dully against the carpet. The file folder in her arms was held loosely by a single corner.

Michael frowned almost imperceptibly. Fortunately, there was no one else left in the agency department, so he didn't say anything, simply stubbing out his cigarette.

It was clear that this wasn't the first time this had happened; the visitor was obviously very familiar with every corner of the director’s office.

Monroe walked toward the desk with long, graceful strides, leaning over to place the file folder on the desk as her loose neckline dipped downward. The lighting was poor, but with the flickering neon lights from outside the building, the hint of her cleavage was visible.

"Director, I have a question about agency affairs that I don't quite understand. I saw you were too busy to check your phone, so I had to come and ask you in person."