Chapter 109: Drinking Horses at Hanhai, Sealing Langju Mountain, Regulating the Great River, Arranging the Ranks

In September, "Snowflakes Goddess Dragon" aired on multiple terrestrial channels and city-county stations; though not outstanding, its performance was quite respectable.

Due to the enormous disparity between the other distributor's TV station and Yi'an Film & Television, the production team directly terminated the contract.

The "Snowflakes Goddess Dragon" production team preferred to pay the breach penalty rather than entrust any distribution business to anyone but Yi'an Film & Television.

Because Yi'an Film & Television had already proven its distribution capability, the team believed that granting Yi'an exclusive rights would earn them more than the penalty fee.

Yi'an did not disappoint the team; after acquiring the territories previously handled by the other distributor, it quickly secured breakthroughs with two city stations.

But the most critical factor was Yi'an establishing contact with two satellite TV networks.

Yan Li personally met with one of the satellite stations showing strong interest.

Currently, negotiations are still at an impasse.

As a costume drama, "Snowflakes Goddess Dragon" had a higher starting price than modern dramas like "Conquest."

This was also the industry's conventional reality.

TV stations had their own logic for buying dramas: they estimated the production team's investment cost, assessed the profit margin, then made offers.

Modern dramas had lower costume, makeup, and set costs than costume dramas; unless they had other advantages, their prices were usually lower than those of costume dramas.

Meanwhile, the number of episodes also affected the price.

More episodes did not mean more profit; the total price might be higher, but the per-episode price would drop.

For example, a 40-episode drama might sell for 4 million total, but only 100,000 per episode.

A 20-episode drama might sell for only 3 million total, but 150,000 per episode.

Thus, most current TV dramas were 20 to 30 episodes; those exceeding 40 episodes were rare.

The reason was that more episodes lowered cost-effectiveness and return rates, and the high total price made TV stations perceive greater risk and reduced their willingness to buy, increasing distribution difficulty.

Of course, this applied to ordinary production teams; if one had confidence in the project or the drama became a hit, then more episodes meant more profit.

Each project required individual analysis.

Yan Li, after comparing the distributions of "Conquest" and "Snowflakes Goddess Dragon," realized there were many subtleties in TV drama distribution.

One needed both ability and market awareness, as well as luck.

A forgotten drama like "Conquest" could be turned from waste to treasure—low cost, high return.

It was not unusual for a highly anticipated, multi-million-dollar investment to end in total loss.

The more Yan Li pondered, the more he realized the film and television industry carried substantial risk—both production and distribution could fail.

It was better to have a stable platform, unshakable and in control; even if one or two attempts failed and brought minor setbacks, it wouldn't cripple the business.

If only the state allowed private entities to run TV stations!

But Yan Li soon discarded this unrealistic thought and refocused on the distribution of "Snowflakes Goddess Dragon."

Although it had the advantage of being a costume drama, "Snowflakes Goddess Dragon" suffered from multiple weaknesses: no satellite broadcast results, terrestrial channel data that wasn't a breakout hit, and a high episode count—all giving TV stations reasons to push the price down.

The most interested station, Chongqing Satellite TV, offered only 120,000 per episode; with 45 episodes total, the price amounted to just 5.4 million.

Considering "Conquest" sold to Hebei Satellite TV at 150,000 per episode, Yan Li still felt this price was too low.

He hoped to negotiate up to 6 million—130,000 or more per episode.

Since "Snowflakes Goddess Dragon" performed worse than "Conquest," few satellite stations would rush to bid.

Therefore, for every station that came to negotiate, profit must be maximized.

Although Chongqing Satellite TV had not agreed and negotiations remained deadlocked, Yan Li, through system research, felt the issue wasn't serious.

If Chongqing Satellite TV secured the deal and successfully launched it, with a pioneer in place and the drama gaining initial influence, Yan Li believed another satellite station might still be negotiated.

Yan Li calculated the finances for the "Snowflakes Goddess Dragon" producers.

The production cost of "Snowflakes Goddess Dragon" was around 8 million, given the cast lineup and costume, makeup, and set expenses.

If Yan Li could secure two satellite stations in the first round, one at 6 million, that would total 12 million.

Adding revenue from terrestrial channels, DVDs, and second-run broadcasts, the total income for "Snowflakes Goddess Dragon" could exceed 20 million.

Yi'an's distribution share was 15%, roughly 3 million.

After deducting production costs and Yan Li's distribution share, the producers could still earn several million; if later sales were strong, a 10-million profit was possible.

This return, though far below "Conquest," was still substantial.

The "Snowflakes Goddess Dragon" producers would surely be satisfied, and Yi'an could further build its reputation in distribution and secure more business.

But Yan Li's intense involvement wasn't primarily about distribution—he wanted to leverage this advantage to participate in quality projects.

Some projects lacked funds and could be funded with cash; others weren't short on money, or not that short; some wished to preserve creative independence and rejected outside investment.

At such times, money alone might not work—but if distribution became the entry point, it could yield surprising results.

Your production team may not lack money, but you still want to earn more, right?

If Yan Li could help you sell your drama at a higher price and greater profit, wouldn't the team be tempted?

Thus, Yan Li could retreat and take a cut through distribution, or advance and use this as leverage to invest in the project—earning money from both production and distribution.

TV stations are powerful—they can bully clients!

Producers are powerful—they can hold out for a better price!

If intermediaries are powerful, why not play both sides and profit from both ends?

Yan Li imagined that if he truly became the most formidable distributor in the circle, a single stomp could shake the entire film and television industry.

Perhaps he could even lead in setting industry rules for TV drama distribution, or unite all producers or TV stations to collectively pressure the other side and secure better cooperation terms and so on.

"..."

Yan Li stopped his daydreaming and slapped his own forehead hard.

Earning a little money had made him arrogant—now he fantasized about private TV stations, now about setting industry rules; was he really acting like some government bureau?

Didn't he fear being targeted by everyone and sent to operate a sewing machine—or get arranged for a truck ride…?

————

In mid-September, Yan Li put aside his company work and left Qin Lan and Dong Xuan behind to travel to Inner Mongolia's grasslands to film the war scenes for The Emperor Wu of Han.

The production team had already started shooting in early September and had urged him two or three times before Yan Li finally finished his current tasks and joined the set.

Yan Li also negotiated with the boss and producers of Lucky Eight Immortals Zhu Bajie, asking if he could be switched to a different role.

He used to think Niu Mowang was merely a standalone lead, but now he felt the role had too much screen time.

Yan Li had to manage the pre-production of Huan Tian Xi Di Seven Fairies, check in on The Detective Di Renjie, and handle other business and duties—his time was extremely tight.

So he planned to just play a minor supporting role in Lucky Eight Immortals Zhu Bajie, as long as he didn't break his promise.

His main goal was still to persuade Director Meng Ji and Fan Xiaopang to join Huan Tian Xi Di Seven Fairies.

Fan Xiaotian found it difficult—he had gained minor fame through the Southern Metropolis Daily report and wanted to ride the wave of publicity.

That's right, this guy was also a master of publicity stunts.

The online voting for the casting of The Piaozhong Hero, mentioned earlier, was entirely Fan Xiaotian's plan.

Back then, because he pushed it so hard, he had pushed Lu Yi to the brink; Lu Yi publicly declared he wouldn't participate in the selection, calling it a trashy publicity stunt, sparking a verbal feud with Fan Xiaotian.

But Yan Li was different from Lu Yi.

Lu Yi was famous, but only as an actor; Yan Li, though just starting out, was already the boss of a film company holding multiple projects.

Of course, Fan Xiaotian's seniority meant he had no fear of offending Yan Li—but there was no need to, since their relationship was already good; why create an enemy?

So Fan Xiaotian slyly chose to stall.

He would delay until Yan Li joined the set, then find a way to convince him to play Niu Mowang; if that failed, they could switch to another role.

Yan Li had an intelligence network and was fully aware of Fan Xiaotian's plan—he intended to respond flexibly when the time came.

To be honest, this was the first production team that had so eagerly wanted him to join.

No wonder everyone wanted fame—being famous meant entirely different treatment.

And it wasn't just Lucky Eight Immortals Zhu Bajie's crew that treated him differently; when Yan Li arrived at The Emperor Wu of Han set, he found his treatment had improved vastly compared to when he was in Hengdian.

Because he had delayed joining by several days, Yan Li went specifically to greet and apologize to the producer and director.

Both were very approachable; Hu Mei's smile had increased noticeably since before.

The producer even inquired specially about his health, asked whether he was adapting to the grasslands, and arranged for him the best accommodation on the entire set.

The other actors and crew members on the set were even more so.

Though they didn't flatter or grovel to Yan Li, they no longer treated him merely as a supporting actor—there was clearly more respect.

Ren Zhong, who got along well with Yan Li and was one year older, had previously called him by his name when they hung out; now, without realizing it, he had switched to calling him Brother Yan.

Several senior crew members no longer addressed Yan Li as Little Yan, but instead used his name, or more affectionately, Yan'er or Younger Brother.

Several staff members Yan Li had previously befriended expressed, directly or indirectly, their admiration and reverence for Boss Yan, eagerly awaiting The Emperor Wu of Han's wrap to join him.

Not just Yan Li himself, even Lin Jiachuan, who had accompanied him on two sets, felt deeply moved.

"Brother, you really have to make it big—when you're successful, everyone's nice, everyone's smiling."

"Conversely, if one day I fall from grace and lose my glory, these good people turn bad, and smiles turn to scowls."

Yan Li was still young, so he truly enjoyed the changes brought by success.

But thanks to his intelligence system, which gave him deeper insight into people's true thoughts, Yan Li did not become lost in it or lose his calm and reason.

To keep seeing smiles long-term, you must not only climb up—you must also ensure you never fall.

The Long March has only just begun; enjoying brief moments of joy is fine, but don't forget to stay alert.

So no matter how others changed their attitude toward Yan Li, he himself still tried his best to maintain his previous humble and low-key demeanor.

He filmed the same way he had in Hengdian—sometimes even more diligently than before.

This earned him higher regard from many observant people.

In the film and television industry, there are no shortage of those who became overnight sensations or made huge fortunes.

But many also, blinded by fame and wealth, changed their personalities, became arrogant and reckless, and ultimately vanished into obscurity.

At such a young age, still at the peak of his success, Yan Li maintained this attitude—whether genuine or feigned, it revealed an exceptional character.

…

As Yan Li's time on The Emperor Wu of Han set grew longer, and with the heavy filming schedule, public attention toward him gradually faded.

Yan Li was happy to have the relief.

Unlike generals like Li Guang who needed to fight on the battlefield, Huo Qubing primarily showcased his military command abilities.

So Yan Li had few combat scenes—he mostly directed troops, analyzed strategies, and at most led elite cavalry charges, with very few direct battle shots.

Although filming these scenes wasn't easy, it wasn't particularly grueling or exhausting.

Yan Li himself felt no hardship or fatigue at all.

Imagine: you're clad in armor, mounted on a fine steed, behind you a line of fully prepared cavalry, banners fluttering, hooves thundering, everyone shouting "General!" and faithfully obeying your orders; with one command, soldiers spur their horses and swing their blades, charging with you toward the enemy camp.

What man could resist such a temptation!

Truly, there were several scenes that gave Yan Li goosebumps—from his temples all the way down to his heels.

All the childhood fantasies of draping a sheet over himself, wielding a wooden stick to slash at grass, had been made real.

Exhausted?

Even if he died of exhaustion, he'd die smiling!

Not just Yan Li—even Lin Jiachuan, the deputy general who rode into battle with him, groaned every day from the jolting ride, yet the next morning he'd be bursting with energy the moment filming began.

Because the filming was so exhilarating, the youthful general Huo Qubing's bold, triumphant spirit radiated directly from Yan Li's face.

Even Hu Mei couldn't help praising him several times.

Previously, when filming in Hengdian, Yan Li had already performed well; now he had truly found the "soul" of the role—every performance felt natural.

This kind of thing had happened before on The Emperor Wu of Han—with one actor: Lu Shuming.

He told Yan Li himself that during the filming of Romance of the Three Kingdoms, his early episodes were decent but unremarkable; later, he couldn't recall exactly which scene.

It might not even have been acting—just standing beside with a knife, stroking his beard, when suddenly his whole being awakened, and he found the pulse of Guan Yu's role, embodying both form and spirit.

Yan Li had merely felt that leading troops galloping across the grasslands was exhilarating and refreshing.

Only after Hu Mei and Lu Shuming spoke did he realize that his own state of mind at that moment might have accidentally aligned with the character of Huo Qubing.

This born war god, the champion, when leading troops to hunt down the Xiongnu across the grasslands, was surely filled with passion, viewing the Xiongnu as meat on the chopping block, food on the plate.

Riding this momentum, Yan Li set aside his distractions and fully immersed himself in embodying and studying the major battles of Huo Qubing in the drama.

The first battle: the teenage Piao Yao Colonel Huo Qubing, fresh out of obscurity, led eight hundred elite cavalry, launched a surprise strike, and stormed straight into the Xiongnu's rear.

In the end, he beheaded and captured more than two thousand, including several high-ranking Xiongnu officials and nobles, achieving instant fame and topping all military achievements.

The Hexi Campaign: after being promoted to Biaoqi General, Huo Qubing led over ten thousand troops on another expedition, fighting the Xiongnu through spring and autumn.

In spring, he crossed Wuli, attacked Shupu, crossed Hunu, fought across five states, marched a thousand li in haste, severely crippled the Xiongnu's main force, killed two Xiongnu kings, captured the Golden Idol of Heaven's Worship, and struck terror across the grasslands.

In summer, he advanced deep alone, reaching the Qilian Mountains, capturing five Xiongnu kings and five Xiongnu queen mothers, taking over a hundred Xiongnu princes, officials, and nobles prisoner, beheading more than thirty thousand, then cooperating with the imperial court to force the Hunye King's surrender, bringing his entire force of tens of thousands into Han's fold.

The Xiongnu sang a lament: — Lost are our Qilian Mountains, and our livestock no longer thrive; lost are our Yanchi Mountains, and our brides no longer glow with beauty.

The Mo Bei Campaign: Huo Qubing joined forces with Wei Qing, leading fifty thousand troops to crush the Xiongnu army, pursuing them all the way to Langjuxu Mountain, performing the rites of Heaven's worship and earth's consecration, beheading over seventy thousand.

Watering horses in the Gobi Desert, consecrating Langjuxu Mountain, extending westward to the Great River, establishing commanderies along the Qilian Mountains.

Historical records state that after this battle, the Xiongnu retreated far away, the southern desert held no royal court, and Xiongnu power declined sharply.

Yan Li did not know what Lu Shuming felt after finishing filming "Romance of the Three Kingdoms."

But when he confirmed the day "Emperor Wu of Han" wrapped, Yan Li himself, still in costume, rode his horse and silently galloped across the grasslands all afternoon.

————

ps: Caught a chill and ran a fever yesterday, so fewer updates; I'll make up the word count later.

(End of Chapter)