Chapter 104: No Wonder Everyone Likes to Con Coal Bosses

Jingcheng, Yi’an Film & Television

Yan Li led several people into the company, walking as he introduced: “Boss Jin, Young Qian, Boss Bao, this is our company.”

Young Qian was a twenty-something fat man who glanced at the setup and looked slightly disappointed.

“It’s not very big.”

Yan Li’s expression didn’t change: “Young Qian, you don’t understand. We’re in cultural industry—light asset, don’t need so many staff. In all of Jingcheng, you can count on one hand the film companies with over a hundred employees.”

Boss Bao was a bald man in his thirties, with a fearsome appearance.

If he swapped his shirt for a colorful T-shirt and added a gold chain, anyone would believe he was a crime boss.

Yet his manner was refined, his voice soft and gentle: “Boss Yan, so young, started from nothing, and in just one year reached this level—truly admirable.”

“The market is booming; I’m just riding the wind. I can’t compare to your family’s vast enterprise, Boss Bao.”

Boss Jin, the oldest, was in his forties or fifties, with an ordinary face and a faint Shanxi accent.

“Your company is already sizable. The other film company I visited the other day had ten-odd people crammed into a residential building—yet that boss kept bragging how great he was. If he were truly great, how could he not even afford an office?”

Yan Li nodded in agreement: “Boss Jin is right. This industry is full of sharks and frauds. Investment projects must be carefully selected.”

After showing them around the company, seeing the packed, bustling workstations, all three men nodded silently in approval.

It really looked legitimate!

Yan Li’s office was small, so he led them to the conference room, which he’d pre-arranged to be set up as a reception lounge.

Secretary Hu Ya came in to serve tea, while Yan Li continued introducing his company.

“Since Yi’an Film & Television was founded, we’ve produced or co-produced multiple films and TV dramas.”

“You all know ‘Conquest’—it’s our company’s most successful work to date.”

“It recently aired on Jingcheng Satellite TV, ranking first in its time slot, and second in overall viewership for all TV dramas aired by Jingcheng Satellite TV this year. Before that, ‘Conquest’ already topped Jinmen Satellite TV.”

“For this project, we’ve already earned over thirty million yuan, with further revenue from licensing and nationwide influence still ahead.”

“Besides that, we have two other projects: ‘Detective Di Renjie’ and ‘Snow Goddess Dragon.’”

“‘Detective Di Renjie’ is a collaboration with CCTV, likely to air in their prime time slot. Total investment exceeds twenty million yuan—we’ve personally invested nearly ten million.”

“For ‘Snow Goddess Dragon,’ we didn’t invest; we’re handling only distribution.”

“So far, we’ve secured partnerships with over a dozen local channels and established contact with two satellite TV networks. Preliminary estimates suggest we’ll help the production team earn at least twenty million yuan.”

“...”

Yan Li had previously mocked Sima Qian’s biased historiography; now he was outdoing Sima Qian in embellishment and selective omission.

After his pitch, it sounded as if every Yi’an project was a golden tree dripping cash, and he himself was a living god of wealth—just invest and you’re set.

Faced with Yan Li’s bluff, Boss Jin and the other two men’s eyes gleamed with desire.

Yan Li didn’t pick his investors randomly.

With his intelligence system, he could select them deliberately and knew their circumstances well.

All three were genuine coal bosses, still operating several mines each.

Boss Jin had little education, so he craved what he lacked.

He loved squeezing into the arts scene: before investing in film, he’d been a major patron of multiple art exhibitions, cultural shows, and book publications.

Most impressively, he’d even funded avant-garde theater.

In his own words, though he didn’t understand it, he felt it was sophisticated, so he supported art.

For Boss Jin, whether these investments made money didn’t matter—he cared about boosting his “cultural depth,” shedding the crude image of a coal boss.

But he’d noticed these projects were niche, obscure, circulating only within small circles, failing to reach the public scale he wanted.

In short, he found bragging insufficient.

So Boss Jin wanted something high-end, famous, something people had heard of and understood, something that would earn him admiration.

Thus, he began investing in more visible film and TV projects. Before meeting Yan Li, he’d backed three: two films, one TV drama.

The films were art-house—never released in theaters. The directors claimed they’d entered international festivals, but it was just a free trip abroad with no impact.

The TV drama aired only on a few county-level stations, then got shelved to gather dust.

Boss Jin lost a lot of money—and worse, no one had heard of his projects. His money was wasted.

Since then, he’d become cautious. Losing money was fine, but being a fool? Not anymore.

Yan Li had connected with Boss Jin precisely because of the prestige of 'Conquest.'

Boss Jin had watched ‘Conquest.’ So had many of his friends and acquaintances.

So Boss Jin trusted Yan Li—if ‘The Seven Fairies’ became as popular as ‘Conquest,’ he’d have something truly impressive to brag about.

Young Qian had similar motives to Boss Jin.

Boss Jin wanted to brag, to show he had culture and taste—not the crude image of a coal boss.

Young Qian wanted to prove he wasn’t a lazy wastrel, and to make bragging easier; if he could date a few female stars, even better.

His family also started in coal, but now he invested in other local industries and was quite wealthy.

Before this, Young Qian had never invested in any film project and rarely came to Jingcheng. Yan Li only connected with him through the system.

Despite his complaints, Young Qian had the strongest investment urge of the three—his visit to the company was just a formality.

Put simply, before Yan Li reached him, Young Qian was the type who had money to invest in film but couldn’t find the right door.

Any other production team he met would’ve drained his wallet—or at least conned him out of a million or two.

And among the three, Boss Bao was the most straightforward—

He wanted to make money.

Boss Bao had once been a coal boss too, but now he had no mines—just a pile of cash, which he began investing everywhere.

He saw film as a promising industry and had invested in several dramas before, with mixed results, so he had relatively rich experience.

He was willing to invest now because Yan Li’s track record impressed him, and he believed in ‘The Seven Fairies.’

Honestly, though the coal boss and the spoiled heir were easier to fool and spent more freely, Yan Li actually preferred working with this knowledgeable, discerning Boss Bao.

He understood the business, knew quality, and didn’t cause trouble!

As long as he could make money, he’d be your most loyal supporter.

As for the first two, forget it—if possible, Yan Li hoped to make Boss Bao a long-term partner.

Back to ‘The Seven Fairies’—to win investment, Yan Li was blatantly lying.

“...For ‘The Seven Fairies,’ we plan to invite multiple popular young actresses to form an all-star cast. Specific names include Li Bingbing, Fan Xiaopang, Jiang Qinqin...”

Young Qian raised his hand: “Can we get Qing’er from ‘My Fair Princess’? I love her the most.”

Yan Li hesitated: “That’s difficult. She’s very popular, her schedule is tight, and her fee is a problem.”

Young Qian slammed the table: “If you get Qing’er, I’ll add three million yuan on top of the five million—just for her fee.”

Yan Li cleared his throat: “I’ll try.”

Wang Yan’s current status hovers between first- and second-tier; her market rate should be around 20,000 to 40,000 yuan per episode.

‘The Seven Fairies’ has thirty-eight episodes total; each fairy appears in twenty to thirty episodes. Her fee would max out at one million yuan—negotiate well, and fifty to seventy thousand yuan would suffice.

Worth a shot!

But Yan Li casually reminded Young Qian: “Wang Yan—Qing’er—is married, and her husband is quite wealthy.”

“Huh?”

Young Qian froze.

Yan Li shook his head—he figured this guy was a fake fan, just drooling over TV without reading gossip, unaware his goddess was already someone’s wife.

He didn’t press about whether the three million was still on the table, giving Young Qian time to recover, then continued discussing the project with Boss Jin and Boss Bao.

Boss Jin made no demands—just wanted his name on the credits, so he could take photos with the crew later for bragging rights.

No problem. Yan Li always prioritized investor experience.

He guaranteed Boss Jin’s name would appear prominently as producer, large and lasting. If needed, special thanks could be added at the opening and closing credits.

Boss Jin laughed heartily. The five million investment was practically secured.

Boss Bao was more practical—he cared about how much equity five million yuan would buy.

“Boss Bao, here’s the deal: our total planned investment for this drama is thirty-five to forty million yuan.”

“The TV station takes one share. We don’t have a broadcast license, so we have to pay to air. Plus other investors, plus distribution costs—and after all the work we’ve put in, we have to make a profit too.”

“For your five million, I can give you at most twelve percent equity.”

“Too little.”

Boss Bao refused: “Don’t think I’m naive. Your projected investment figures are padded. Five million? Minimum twenty percent.”

“Impossible.”

Yan Li replied firmly: “Since you understand the business, you know equity pricing varies—would the same percentage cost the same in angel round as in Series A?”

Boss Bao argued: “Twelve percent is too little. Even if we profit, it’s just a taste.”

Yan Li refused to budge, insisting there simply wasn’t more equity to give—what he offered was squeezed out of thin air.

If Yi’an Film & Television weren’t strapped for cash from running multiple projects, this surefire profit wouldn’t even be open to outside investors.

The more Yan Li refused, the more confident he seemed, the more Boss Bao wanted to fight for more equity—and he convinced Boss Jin and Young Qian to back him.

The other two weren’t fools. Though their main goal wasn’t profit, why not earn more if they could?

Their interests aligned—they had to stand together.

So the three united in pressure. Yan Li couldn’t hold out—he finally slammed his fist on the table.

“All three of you chip in another five million yuan together—total twenty million—and fully support my authority in the production team. I’ll smooth things over with the other investors.”

Boss Jin and Young Qian turned to Boss Bao, who hesitated, then whispered to them for a minute or two before nodding in agreement.

"Fine."

Yan Li sat down on the table with visible reluctance, unable to suppress a sigh.

Twenty million was enough to cover all production costs for the "Happy Heaven, Joyful Earth: Seven Fairies" project.

It meant he had secured full control of the project and claimed the lion’s share of the remaining 50% profit, without spending a single penny.

No wonder everyone loved conning coal bosses—pulling off a scheme with nothing but empty hands was truly satisfying…

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PS: 9,000 characters. Please vote for monthly tickets, and feel free to suggest actor candidates for the Seven Fairies—I’ll consider them at my discretion.

(End of Chapter)