Chapter 117: Two Soldiers Fight Over a Man—Definitely Front-Page News

North Film Academy, multimedia classroom

Yan Li had just spent a day alone with Dong Xuan, but the next day, his girlfriend was “taken” away by Guan Yue and others.

Today was the premiere night of “Snowflake Goddess Dragon” on satellite TV.

As the first student from the Class of 2000 at North Film Academy to land the female lead in a satellite-broadcast drama, Dong Xuan’s close classmates strongly insisted on celebrating and cheering with her.

They were now seniors, about to graduate, and many classmates no longer returned to campus at all.

This was also an excuse to gather some classmates who had time.

As an arts academy, North Film Academy encouraged students to watch and analyze outstanding films and TV dramas, so it had ready-made multimedia classrooms for viewing, and applying for one wasn’t difficult.

Guan Yue and other classmates booked a classroom, bought snacks and drinks, and chatted while waiting for the drama to air.

As the star of the day, Dong Xuan naturally drew plenty of attention.

A girl with thick bangs sipped orange juice and winked at Dong Xuan.

“Dong Xuan, is your guy coming today?”

As soon as she spoke, several men and women turned to look.

The name Yan Li might not have been widely known among other graduating classes at North Film Academy, but in the Class of 2000, everyone knew him.

In the vocational class, Yan Li was one of the most influential students—many girls got along with him, and many boys liked hanging out with him.

This could be seen from how he once led people to confront Du Chun.

Du Chun was two grades above Yan Li, had been at school longer, and knew more people.

Even though Du Chun’s star-child personality made him unpopular and gave him poor social standing, Yan Li couldn’t have silenced him with just a few guys from his dorm.

In the undergraduate class, Yan Li, a vocational student, stole their class’s most beautiful girl—enough to make the entire class remember him.

A few boys who liked Dong Xuan even clashed with Yan Li.

But precisely because Yan Li was so well-known in the Class of 2000, the article in “Southern Metropolis Daily” might have been unknown to many seniors and juniors at North Film Academy.

Yet nearly everyone in the Class of 2000’s performance department knew about it—even those who hadn’t read it had been specifically warned or recommended by classmates.

That “toad” from the vocational class had turned into a millionaire, becoming a boss and producer.

This revelation left Dong Xuan’s classmates with mixed feelings—and stirred up a few hidden motives.

Including today’s so-called celebration gathering for Dong Xuan, beyond the joy, reunion, and nostalgia, whether there were other reasons, only certain people knew.

Another girl with a slightly long face giggled and teased: “Old Dong, don’t hide your big boss from us—call him over, let us flatter him too.”

Before Dong Xuan could speak, Guan Yue interrupted: “Pu Yanli, Huyan, today’s just a class gathering—why bring up outsiders?”

Yin Xu also spoke up: “Yeah, none of you brought your partners—why push Dong Xuan?”

Peng Xinyi, another classmate close to Dong Xuan, dragged away the long-faced girl Huyan who had just been speaking.

With Guan Yue and the others blocking the request, the idea of calling Yan Li over was dropped.

But after this commotion, the classroom atmosphere was no longer as friendly and harmonious as before.

Dong Xuan watched this and sighed inwardly—graduation was near, everyone was half-stepping into society, and many thoughts and behaviors were no longer as simple as they’d been on campus.

Even Dong Xuan herself had changed somewhat since before.

In the past, she might have foolishly called Yan Li over, proudly showing him off to her classmates.

But now she worried these classmates might ask Yan Li for resources—given her connection, he’d find it hard to refuse, so she chose silence to avoid trouble.

Besides, she also had a sense of caution.

She knew her classmates fairly well, especially the girls—few of them were truly kind.

Many had never liked her, and now that they knew Yan Li had risen, some were surely envious or jealous.

If she truly introduced them as good friends to Yan Li, who knew how many might try to steal him—or if they couldn’t, at least spread rumors and stir trouble behind her back.

As previously mentioned, Dong Xuan was jealous and possessive.

Not just these ordinary classmates—except for Guan Yue, even Yin Xu and the other two roommates, she now subtly avoided letting them interact with Yan Li.

As for Guan Yue, one reason was their close friendship, and another was that Guan Yue had a boyfriend, and Tong Dawei got along well with Yan Li.

Although after the Huang Shengyi incident, Dong Xuan had lost some trust in Yan Li’s romantic conduct.

She still respected his character and believed he wouldn’t target her best friend or her friend’s girlfriend.

At prime time, “Snowflake Goddess Dragon” aired on Chongqing Satellite TV.

This drama hadn’t aired in Beijing before, but Dong Xuan and Guan Yue and a few friends had already watched it on DVD; most classmates hadn’t seen it.

Watching the cold, heroic female warrior Dong Xuan on screen, many classmates expressed admiration.

So beautiful!

Of course, even more beautiful was the Chongqing Satellite TV logo in the top-left corner of the screen.

A satellite-broadcast drama, a leading female role in a wuxia series—these were things they, no longer ivory-tower students, clearly understood the significance of.

Their Class of 2000 undergraduate class might soon produce its first star.

With this mindset, the classmates finished watching the two-episode broadcast; they barely remembered the plot, but Dong Xuan’s fierce, hair-biting fight scene with the forehead band remained vivid.

After the drama ended, many classmates didn’t want to leave—they planned to head to the next gathering.

But Dong Xuan didn’t want to go—Yan Li was waiting for her at home.

They’d been apart so long; if not for all these classmates, she wouldn’t have come to this gathering at all.

Yet as classmates persistently invited her, she was struggling to refuse when two sharp car horns sounded.

A BMW a short distance away flashed its lights; Yan Li rolled down his window and waved.

Dong Xuan seized the chance: “My boyfriend’s here to pick me up—I’m leaving.”

She grabbed her small bag and dashed to the car; Yan Li waved again, honked once more as a signal, then turned and drove off.

Watching the BMW slowly depart, the remaining classmates fell silent; it took half a minute before someone broke the quiet.

“He’s driving a BMW now—he really made it.”

“What luck Dong Xuan has—her own drama airs on satellite TV, and her boyfriend’s rich and powerful.”

“Luck? That’s just Dong Xuan’s good taste—don’t just see her sitting in a BMW now; remember, she was the one who once rode the bus with Yan Li at the school gate.”

“...”

On the other side, in the BMW, Dong Xuan looked curiously at Yan Li: “Aren’t school buildings off-limits to outside vehicles? How’d you get in?”

“I leave a couple boxes of cigarettes each time I come—I park right outside the president’s office, and they keep watch for me.”

Yan Li adjusted the steering wheel and grinned: “How’s my entrance today?”

“Cool.”

Dong Xuan recalled the expressions of her classmates as she got into the car and felt a quiet thrill.

As previously mentioned, because Yan Li was from the vocational class, when they first dated, they’d often been mocked behind their backs.

So Dong Xuan especially loved these “comeuppance” moments—but she’d always held back, only dipping her toes in.

But it didn’t matter—once Yan Li’s career grew bigger, her life would only get better, and there’d be endless chances to show off.

The more she thought about it, the happier she became; she kissed Yan Li: “Good job—this is your reward.”

“That’s it?”

Yan Li said it wasn’t enough; Dong Xuan rolled her eyes and pouted: “You messed with me all night last night for my birthday—wasn’t that enough?”

“What do you mean ‘messed with’? That was celebrating your birthday.”

Yan Li declared firmly: “When we get home, you have to reward me again.”

Dong Xuan pinched him, but didn’t refuse—North Film Academy was extremely close to North Film Village; after a short detour, they were home in minutes.

As soon as they entered, Yan Li didn’t do what Dong Xuan expected—no domineering, rough treatment.

Instead, he turned on the TV and pulled a DVD from a drawer in the entertainment cabinet.

Soon, the screen showed the same scene from “Snowflake Goddess Dragon” she’d just watched.

“Didn’t we already watch this?”

Dong Xuan frowned, then realized what he meant—her pale face instantly flushed red: “You’re doing this again?”

“No excuses—you promised me a reward.”

Yan Li ran to the bedroom, pulled out a small box from under the wardrobe, and took out a costume identical to the one worn in “Snowflake Goddess Dragon,” urging:

“Hurry up and change.”

Dong Xuan blushed and spat at him, but obediently went to the bedroom to change, putting on the Goddess Dragon’s forehead band and roughly fixing her hair.

Back in the living room, Yan Li handed her a feather duster, then twirled a feather duster like a sword.

“Lady Shangguan Yan, today I shall subdue the dragon with divine sword!”

Dong Xuan, embarrassed, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, bit her lip, and forced a cold, aloof expression.

“Villain—draw your weapon!”

Thus, a monumental battle between righteousness and evil unfolded in North Film Village…

————

The viewership data for “Snowflake Goddess Dragon”’s premiere in Chongqing wasn’t particularly dazzling, but it wasn’t bad either—solid, average.

National average viewership: 2.01%, ranking ninth for the same period.

Compared to “Conquest,” this was far behind, but relative to other dramas and Chongqing Satellite TV’s own positioning, it was acceptable.

More encouragingly, in the following days, the ratings steadily rose.

Though the increase was modest, it firmly held its top-ten position, occasionally even climbing a spot.

Yan Li no longer expected this drama to become a massive hit; if rerun ratings were decent, he could negotiate another satellite channel for multiple broadcasts—enough to call it a modest success.

For most TV dramas, reaching this level was already quite good.

Out of hundreds of dramas each year, only a handful could be called massive, blockbuster hits.

For small-scale, low-budget dramas like this, having some influence, allowing the producer to make money, and helping actors gain a bit of fame—that’s the true backbone of the TV market.

Then again, although “Snowflakes Goddess Dragon” didn’t perform well, it was better than other TV dramas at launching careers.

In particular, Dong Xuan, the female lead, received considerable praise and recognition thanks to her excellent looks and compelling character design.

Originally, Yan Li had only made a cameo as Dong Xuan’s agent, but that connection left behind contact information, and many invitations ended up reaching Yan Li.

These included interviews from print and online media, and even a production team wanted her to star in a drama.

Yan Li arranged two interviews for Dong Xuan, but when the production team looked into it, they found it unreliable and outright rejected it.

Even if it had been reliable, she couldn’t have taken it—“Happy Heaven Seven Fairies” was about to start filming, and Dong Xuan was still considering staying at school; she needed to impress her teachers before winter break, and her schedule was full.

Dong Xuan was somewhat confused about whether she had become famous—even after being interviewed by the media, she had no clear sense of it.

It wasn’t until she went shopping with Guan Yue and was recognized by two elementary school students, then saw pirated posters and stickers of her character in a stationery shop, that she truly realized she had become known.

Since newspaper coverage was too sparse, Dong Xuan went online; forums like Tianya and Catfish had scattered mentions of her in their entertainment sections.

Sina’s portal site even had a special feature on “Snowflakes Goddess Dragon,” and many fan and netizen comments focused primarily on her.

The feedback mainly came in two waves: one praising her beauty and expressing admiration and fondness.

The other criticizing her as blind, mainly due to the plot—they thought the third male lead, Ouyang Mingri (Qiao Zhenyu), was handsome and devoted, yet she ignored him and instead fell in love with the instant-noodle guy (Ren Tianye), clearly having lost her mind.

Dong Xuan read these comments, feeling happy, hurt, and amused, and even left replies to explain and interact—but few believed or responded to her.

Still, Dong Xuan herself was having a blast.

Every day, like a net-addicted teenager, she scrolled online constantly, checking for news about herself and “Snowflakes Goddess Dragon.”

She also read posts and news about Yan Li, assuming he was now only playing supporting roles or working behind the scenes, with low online discussion.

But she never expected his name was far more popular than she imagined!

Only after researching did she realize this “popularity” was different from what she imagined.

Online discussions about Yan Li, aside from the report in “Southern Metropolis Daily” and Li Bingbing’s gossip, mostly revolved around “Happy Heaven Seven Fairies.”

And Yan Li’s “popularity” stemmed entirely from this drama.

Many netizens who participated in the “Seven Fairies” voting were dissatisfied with Yan Li’s casting choices, shouting about casting scandals or accusing him of hype, while also nitpicking the selected actresses.

Among them, the loudest factions were two groups of fans—both were Li Bingbing fans.

Many netizens were delighted by the idea of pairing the two “Bingbings,” but both fan groups were unhappy.

Li Bingbing’s fans thought Fan Xiaopang had no right to be mentioned alongside their idol, accusing him of forced association and claiming the producer was deliberately hyping him up—his intentions were despicable.

Fan Xiaopang’s fans resented Li Bingbing’s fans’ high-and-mighty attitude and felt Li Bingbing looked ordinary—how could she possibly play a fairy? She must be sleeping with the producer.

The two fan groups insulted each other, then turned on the production team and Yan Li as producer; their Tianya threads were getting nearly as many clicks as Michael Jackson’s court verdict.

Dong Xuan panicked and went to find Yan Li, begging him to think of a way to calm the controversy quickly.

“Calming it? Why calm it? This is a good thing.”

Yan Li looked puzzled—this feud between the two Bingbings had skyrocketed attention for “Happy Heaven Seven Fairies,” and even Li Bingbing and Fan Xiaopang’s personal exposure had surged rapidly.

Calming it? Only a fool would calm it!

If Li Bingbing and her sister hadn’t been holding back because “The Mobile” was about to premiere, and if Hua Jie hadn’t wanted things to get too ugly, he’d have convinced Fan Xiaopang to stir up gossip with him.

Two Bingbings fighting over one man? That’s front-page headline material!

(End of Chapter)