Chapter 118: Four Dan, Two Bing? No—Two Bing, Four Dan (70)

Beijing, a hot pot restaurant

A Buick parked beside the restaurant; Wang Jing carried Yang Xue out of the car, speaking as they walked.

“At dinner, talk less, toast more, don’t act superior just because someone’s young.”

Yang Xue nodded: “I know, Sister Hua.”

When the two reached the entrance, they saw Yan Li waiting outside; Wang Jing was slightly surprised, quickened her steps, and said with concern and mild reproach:

“Director Yan, it’s so cold—why are you waiting outside? Don’t catch a chill.”

“Sister Hua, how could I dare call myself ‘Director’ in front of you? You’re scolding me.”

Yan Li warmly took Wang Jing’s arm and smiled: “This time, when I put together this production team, Bingbing and the others relied entirely on your coordination—and you even recommended Yang Xue to me. You’ve done me such a huge favor; I shouldn’t just be waiting outside—I ought to have gone to your home to pick you up myself.”

“That’s not my achievement; Bingbing and the others were all your own deals, and Yang Xue helped me—thank you should be coming from me.”

Wang Jing refused to take credit, but Yan Li disagreed: “If you approved their participation, that’s helping me. Today is specifically to thank you.”

The two exchanged polite refusals of credit, their atmosphere growing warmer and more intimate.

Yang Xue had no right to interject, but she quietly sized up Yan Li a few times.

In truth, Yan Li himself wasn’t fully aware that Yang Xue had known him for a long time.

He was in the 2000 intake of the Beijing Film Academy’s vocational program; Yang Xue was a year ahead, in the 1999 vocational intake.

But since the vocational program was two years long, though they were one year apart, they actually attended school together for one year.

Yang Xue worked as a part-time model during school, then was discovered and signed by Wang Jing, debuting in films in 2000, so she spent little time on campus during her sophomore year.

Yan Li only began studying hard in his freshman year, then got busy dating Dong Xuan, so he naturally had no memory of a classmate who rarely showed up.

Yang Xue had also seen Yan Li only a few times; she knew of him because he’d pursued the campus beauty of the undergraduate class—he was somewhat famous in the vocational department at the time.

After graduation, Yang Xue forgot about Yan Li entirely—until she applied to the “Seven Fairies” production team, when she remembered this classmate who was notorious for chasing girls.

But now, she dared not call him “classmate”; she could only respectfully address him:

“Director Yan.”

Yan Li smiled gently, exchanged a few casual remarks, then continued talking with Wang Jing.

Yan Li had reviewed Yang Xue’s file and interviewed her—he knew perfectly well she was his senior.

But so what?

The Beijing Film Academy had been around for decades; before the 2000 intake, there were dozens of graduating classes in the acting department, with undergraduate students numbering over a thousand, and vocational students even more—did he greet every senior as “senior”?

You speak according to your position; only those who helped him, he sincerely called “senior.”

Others? If you need to flatter them, say it twice; if not, treat each other as equals.

It may be harsh, but it’s the truth!

It was too cold outside; they didn’t linger, chatted a while, then went straight inside.

“You order first—they’ll be here soon.”

Yan Li handed the menu to Wang Jing, who refused it, saying they’d order once everyone arrived, then continued talking with Yan Li, even bringing up Dong Xuan.

“This girl is good—good looks, decent acting. I see your company doesn’t have talent management; why not let her come with me for now?”

Worried Yan Li might misunderstand, Wang Jing added: “No contracts, nothing formal—sister’s just helping you guide her; if other opportunities come up later, she can leave anytime.”

“With sister watching over her, you can rest easy—no messy, unpleasant stuff will happen.”

Wang Jing managed her artists with a nanny-style approach: handling every detail, from career resources to personal matters, bonding with artists through emotional ties.

Under her care, artists didn’t have to fear being forced into distasteful, unwanted acts.

Of course, normal social dinners like today were unavoidable.

If an artist had ambition and chose to cultivate relationships with directors or financiers for career gain, Wang Jing turned a blind eye.

Her philosophy centered on the artist: the agent’s role was to assist and guide, not to command or dominate.

This strategy had pros and cons, but her artists held her in high regard.

Yan Li believed Wang Jing’s assurance.

But times had changed; Dong Xuan wasn’t short of work or resources with him, so he didn’t need to hand his woman over to someone else—he politely declined.

“She’s not that famous yet, her workload is limited—I can handle it. Besides, she’s focused on staying on campus, so she doesn’t plan to take on many roles right now.”

Wang Jing caught the implication immediately and shifted the topic: “She’s staying on campus too? I remember Da Wei’s girlfriend is staying to become a teacher.”

“Yes, they’re close friends, planning to stay together.”

“Good thing—teaching’s a solid path. I’ll look around and see if I can find any connections for you.”

“Thank you, Sister Hua.”

“Don’t be formal with sister—I never signed you, but I’ve always treated you like family. If you need anything, just say it—I’ll give you everything I’ve got.”

Wang Jing’s words were polite, but held some sincerity.

After all, Yan Li was doing well—she hoped to cultivate a good relationship with him, so her own artists could benefit later.

“With your word, I feel much more at ease. Actually, I have something I’d like to ask your opinion on.”

Yan Li seized the opening, following Wang Jing’s lead to request help; Wang Jing smiled.

“I knew you didn’t invite me to dinner for nothing—speak up.”

“Don’t rush—I’ll hold back a little. Let’s wait until everyone’s here.”

As Yan Li spoke, his phone rang; he picked it up, glanced at it, then smiled at Wang Jing:

“They’ve arrived.”

He answered the call, gave the location, and soon Fan Xiaopang entered wearing a white down jacket, raising her eyebrows upon seeing the room.

“Oh? Someone’s acting like a big shot.”

“Don’t talk nonsense—it’s not even time yet.”

Wang Jing scolded her, then, seeing Fan Xiaopang peeling off the jacket because the room was too warm, expertly took it and hung it up, muttering about sweating, then went to her car and brought back a light coat for Fan Xiaopang to change into.

Yan Li watched from the side, gaining a clearer understanding of how Wang Jing interacted with her artists.

No wonder Li Bingbing and Fan Xiaopang held her in such extraordinary respect.

For girls who started working young, with families far away, such constant, attentive care was hard not to grow emotionally attached to.

Yan Li decided he should learn from Sister Hua.

For subordinates, incentives matter—but emotional bonds cultivate deeper loyalty.

…

Clearly, Fan Xiaopang was relaxed around Wang Jing, casually recounting her recent event.

Her scenes in “The Lucky Pig Zhu Bajie” weren’t finished, but she’d taken two days off for a commercial event, which Yan Li had unexpectedly invited her to.

Ten minutes passed, and the remaining guests still hadn’t arrived; Fan Xiaopang grew annoyed.

“It’s almost time—I can wait, but why make Sister Hua and Director Yan wait too?”

Wang Jing shot her a look and explained to Yan Li: “It’s rush hour—traffic’s heavy, probably stuck.”

Yan Li nodded, continuing the topic by discussing Beijing’s rush-hour traffic.

At the end of last century, Beijing already had rush-hour congestion, but it was less frequent and smaller in scale.

In the past one or two years, due to joining the WTO and winning the Olympic bid, the economy boomed, private cars multiplied, and traffic jams worsened—now a social issue; for people like Yan Li who owned cars, it was a serious nuisance.

For example, once he zigzagged desperately between Guanghua Li and Beiying Village.

A normal twenty-minute drive turned into thirty-five minutes due to traffic—he nearly missed his appointment.

Afterwards, shaken, Yan Li had his secretary Hu Ya write a formal complaint letter to the relevant authorities.

Traffic jams ruined people’s personal lives too easily!

As he complained, the last guests finally arrived: Li Bingbing and Li Xue rushed in, immediately apologizing—they’d been stuck in traffic and hit a road closure, forced to detour, hence the delay.

“No problem, no problem, it’s fine—we’re all family.”

Yan Li didn’t mind; Wang Jing said nothing; Fan Xiaopang, who had just been sarcastic, now became utterly meek upon seeing the real guests.

Yan Li glanced at her, thinking: Hmph, thought she was tough.

Turns out she’s just a coward who only talks behind people’s backs!

Fan Xiaopang caught Yan Li’s glance and understood his meaning—her pale face flushed red, and she glared back.

Who do you think you’re looking down on? I… I’m just showing Sister Hua respect!

With Wang Jing and Li Bingbing present, Yan Li didn’t bother arguing with Fan Xiaopang—he signaled the waiter to order, then engaged in polite small talk.

Fan Xiaopang said nothing; Li Bingbing, however, offered congratulations.

“Cellphone” is coming out in December’s New Year slot; Feng Xiaogang always delivers well in New Year films—this one won’t disappoint.

This year’s film market suffered greatly due to SARS.

The top-grossing Chinese film so far is “The Hero,” starring Jiang Wen and Xiao Yanzi, with 41 million yuan—fourth on this year’s domestic box office chart.

Compared to last year’s miracle hit “Hero,” which earned 250 million yuan, the difference is enormous.

The industry now pins its hopes on Feng Xiaogang’s “Cellphone,” expecting him to restore pride to Chinese cinema.

Not necessarily matching “Hero” or breaking 100 million, but at least cracking the top three—don’t let Hollywood sweep the top three spots.

Of course, that’s Huayi and Feng Xiaogang’s problem; Li Bingbing doesn’t need to worry—she just needs to wait for the film’s release, then her fame and exposure will surge, elevating her career.

Thinking of this, Li Bingbing felt cheerful and raised her glass to toast Yan Li.

“Thanks to you—if you hadn’t given me advice, I might not have gotten this role.”

“You’re talented yourself.”

Yan Li felt awkward drinking—he didn’t need to guess; he knew Fan Xiaopang was cursing him inside, maybe even slashing him with a knife.

Li Xue followed her sister and raised a glass too, adding: “Don’t be modest—you’re the main reason we got this role.”

Hmm—now Fan Xiaopang was probably already “chopping” him in her mind.

But Yan Li, seeing Li Xue sit down and lock eyes with Li Bingbing, understood that the sisters were doing this on purpose.

Gratitude was fake; the real goal was to provoke Fan Xiaopang and sow discord between him and Fan.

It seems dragging Fan Xiaopang into “Happy Heaven and Earth Seven Fairies” and organizing this dinner today has put immense pressure on the Li sisters.

Yan Li felt both surprised and troubled.

The surprise was that the two Bings truly disliked each other, their hostility and targeting so natural they didn’t even need to act.

The trouble was, could these two, in this state, cooperate with his plan?

…

Regardless of his inner thoughts, as the meal progressed and the atmosphere improved, Yan Li began steering the conversation toward today’s main topic.

Stir up the rivalry between the two Bings!

At this, Yang Xue looked startled, Wang Jing slightly surprised but composed, while Li Bingbing and Li Xue frowned, and Fan Xiaopang remained expressionless.

Yan Li took in everyone’s reactions without surprise.

Yang Xue was just an outsider; Wang Jing was an old fox who had already been probed earlier—she likely had a clear idea already.

As for the Li sisters and Fan Xiaopang, Yan Li had all previously spoken to them.

The Li sisters weren’t interested, even somewhat resistant; Fan Xiaopang originally refused too, but now she’d been convinced by Yan Li and was today’s supporter.

After gauging everyone’s reactions, Yan Li spoke calmly: “I’ve mentioned this before. Though the goal is to promote the ‘Happy Heaven and Earth Seven Fairies’ project, it’s also beneficial for you all—in my view, this is a win-win strategy.”

“You know the online controversy—it’s gotten loud, which proves the public is deeply interested in your relationship.”

“I’ll say it again: you two share the same name, the same agent, the same company, and both have a solid base of fame.”

“So you two are a natural pair—either become soulmates, or become bitter enemies.”

“Personally, I think you met as unknowns and share so many similarities—you’d make great friends.”

“But for various reasons, there are knots in everyone’s hearts. Since there’s no affinity, don’t force it.”

“If you can’t be friends, then be rivals—but the rivalry should not mean pulling each other down, but rather building each other up, advancing together from another angle.”

“Today I’ve invited Sister Hua; everyone here is family. Let me break it down for you, and if you have anything to say, lay it all out—we’ll solve what we can.”

After Yan Li finished, the room fell quiet: Yang Xue turned invisible, Fan Xiaopang looked intrigued, Wang Jing looked thoughtful.

The Li sisters exchanged glances; Li Bingbing stayed silent, while her younger sister Li Xue stepped forward as the vanguard.

“If you’re going to say it like that, don’t blame me for being blunt—our understanding of Director Yan’s meaning is clear: mutual hype, nothing we haven’t done before.”

“But whether you call each other enemies or rivals, there should be balance—a strong one and a weak one isn’t fair to my sister.”

Saying this, Li Xue cast a pointed glance at Fan Xiaopang, who immediately looked displeased, opening her mouth to speak—but Yan Li stopped her.

Yan Li looked at the Li sisters, his tone sincere: “I understand your dissatisfaction—it’s true.”

“Your sister is currently more famous; Fan Xiaopang benefits from that. To be blunt, it’s parasitism.”

He gave Fan Xiaopang a reassuring glance, then continued.

“But can you guarantee your sister will stay famous forever, always outshine Fan Xiaopang?”

Li Xue frowned: “What do you mean?”

Yan Li ignored her and turned to Li Bingbing: “What I’m about to say may be harsh, but I’m speaking from genuine concern for you. Please forgive me if I offend.”

Li Bingbing finally spoke: “Go ahead. I’m not that petty.”

“Good.”

Yan Li took a sip of wine, and his first sentence made Li Bingbing’s cheeks tighten as she bit her teeth silently.

“If I remember right, you’re thirty this year?”

“How many years can a thirty-year-old female actor remain famous? I know a senior who was once a top star—within a few years after thirty, she became yesterday’s news, reduced to playing leads in low-budget dramas with budgets under a million.”

Yan Li pointed at Fan Xiaopang: “She’s only twenty-two—eight years younger than you.”

Li Bingbing’s face darkened; Li Xue narrowed her eyes at Yan Li.

Even Fan Xiaopang opened her mouth slightly, gazing at Yan Li as if he were a brave warrior.

But Yan Li wasn’t done—he pressed on: “Let’s talk about appearance.”

“I’m blunt: you’re pretty, but only an ordinary beauty. Your fame comes from two things—hard work and good luck.”

He pointed once at Fan Xiaopang: “I said she was breathtakingly beautiful—yes, I was teasing her—but her looks are truly top-tier in this industry.”

“Qiong Yao agrees; Sister Hua agrees; I suspect you two sisters agree too.”

Li Bingbing’s face turned completely black; Li Xue glared at Yan Li; Fan Xiaopang looked impressed, with a hint of smug satisfaction.

Too brutal!

And too perceptive!

Leaving everything else aside, Yan Li had consistently affirmed her beauty, which delighted Fan Xiaopang deeply.

Now he was directly attacking Li Bingbing’s face—and the fact she hadn’t laughed out loud was already a testament to her self-control.

“Yes, you’re more famous than Fan Xiaopang now—but the age gap is here, the image gap is here, and you’re under the same company and agent, so the resource gap won’t be extreme. Given time, who can guarantee Fan Xiaopang won’t surpass you?”

Yan Li kept talking, but Li Bingbing finally couldn’t take it—she glared coldly at him.

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

Li Xue snapped too—no matter how much she liked Yan Li, at this critical moment, the sisters stood together.

“You’ve insulted my sister enough—do you think we’re easy to bully?”

“Don’t rush. Let me finish.”

Yan Li raised a calming hand and continued gently: “I know what you two sisters are thinking—you fear Fan Bingbing will replace Li Bingbing, so you’re wary, defensive, even suppressive.”

Before the Li sisters could rebut, Yan Li raised his hand to stop them: “I think instead of suppressing and fearing, you should change your perspective—seek cooperation and mutual gain.”

“The Chinese market is huge—it can accommodate two Bings. Your styles are different; you’re not direct competitors.”

“Why obsess over one Bing replacing the other? Why not create the concept of ‘Two Bings’?”

“You know the Four Heavenly Kings, or closer to you—the Four Little Flowers.”

“Bingbing, you’ve competed directly with them—except for that Zhao girl, which of the other three could truly beat you?”

“But once the ‘Four Little Flowers’ concept emerged, it pushed you behind—no matter how popular the others were, they were all half a step below them.”

“That’s group labeling and bundling marketing—transforming individuals into a collective. From then on, they were bound together; whether competing or cooperating, they generated endless buzz, and their status and commercial value rose together.”

“They can do it—we can follow. They’re the Four Little Flowers; we’ll be the Two Bings in Rivalry.”

“Through joint competition and other maneuvers, we’ll make you both intertwined—friends and rivals, inseparably linked.”

“When you hear ‘Li Bingbing,’ you think of Fan Bingbing; when you hear ‘Fan Bingbing,’ you can’t leave out Li Bingbing.”

“Right now, Bingbing is hotter—lift Fan Xiaopang up. When Fan becomes famous, she’ll feed back to you.”

“Don’t be naive—it’s not the past anymore. Just acting isn’t enough. Why are those Hong Kong and Taiwan stars famous? Because they know how to hype, how to grab attention—we must evolve, learn these entertainment industry tactics.”

“First, ‘Two Bings in Rivalry.’ Once we reach sufficient influence, we’ll latch onto the Four Little Flowers—‘Two Bings, Four Little Flowers.’”

Yan Li smiled at the Li sisters: “Trampling those four underfoot is far more satisfying than fighting with Fan Xiaopang.”

“Yan Li is right.”

Fan Xiaopang finally spoke. Though young and low in fame, her ambition was high, and she was bolder.

“No matter how much we fight, we’re just fighting over scraps inside the company—pathetic. If we’re going to fight, fight outside—take the resources of those other little bitches, enough for both of us.”

Stirred by Yan Li and Fan Xiaopang, Li Bingbing felt her blood boil, restless and eager.

But age tempered her—she wasn’t a girl easily swayed by emotion. She turned her gaze to her sister and Sister Hua.

Wang Jing immediately voiced support: “I think this has potential.”

She looked approvingly at Yan Li: “I always said you were born to be an agent—‘Two Bings, Four Little Flowers’—wow, the younger generation is formidable.”

From Wang Jing’s perspective, both Li and Fan were her top talents. Maintaining harmony while enabling mutual benefit was ideal.

In fact, Wang Jing had conceived the “Two Bings” idea long ago.

But her concept was vague—she’d initially wanted to turn them into a loving duo called “Big Bing and Little Bing.”

Yan Li’s “Two Bings in Rivalry” was clearly superior.

Loving each other was boring; rivalry and conflict were what the public loved.

Latching onto the Four Little Flowers, creating “Two Bings, Four Little Flowers”—that was a masterstroke, instantly placing them on equal footing with the hottest young stars, enabling not just internal rivalry but massive public debate between “Two Bings vs. Four Little Flowers.”

This kid Yan Li was a genius!

Li Xue pondered for a long while, then gave Yan Li a complex look and nodded to her sister.

“The benefits outweigh the risks.”

As Yan Li said, the Four Little Flowers were united.

Her sister fighting alone might not withstand their combined assault—finding an ally was smart.

But such allies weren’t easy to find; you couldn’t just call someone up. A weak ally wouldn’t form real strength.

Fan Xiaopang shared more common ground with Li Bingbing, making connection easier—and unforgettable.

Though not yet hugely famous, she’d starred in “My Fair Princess,” giving her solid popularity, strong looks, and outstanding potential.

Wang Jing and Yan Li’s endorsement proved it.

As for Wang Jing, no further explanation was needed; after Yan Li helped Li Bingbing land the female lead in “The Cell Phone,” the sisters deeply trusted his ability.

So when Yan Li endorsed Fan Xiaopang and proposed the “Two Bings in Rivalry” marketing plan, though hesitant, the sisters chose to believe him.

With Wang Jing and her wise sister’s support, Li Bingbing slammed her hand on the table.

“Fine. Let’s do it.”

“Good.”

Yan Li smiled, his hands slightly trembling with excitement: “First, we must promote the ‘Two Bings’ concept and establish a rivalry.”

“You both are in ‘Happy Heaven and Earth Seven Fairies’—that’s the perfect battlefield and topic. Fans’ disputes are already well-prepared, but it’s not enough—we need a breakout moment to capture nationwide attention.”

My suggestion is to stir up gossip—I already have gossip with Bingbing, and then stir up more with Little Fan; two women fighting over one man, packed with melodramatic romance, will absolutely draw countless eyes…

Before he finished speaking, Yan Li noticed that every woman in the room was staring at him with strange expressions.

Fan Xiaopang spoke quickly, bluntly retorting: “You’re talking so passionately—so you’ve been waiting for this all along? You’re saying we’re fighting over you? How presumptuous.”

Li Bingbing regarded Yan Li with a sly look: “Two Bings competing? Are you really looking out for us, or are you up to some trickery?”

Yan Li was speechless: “Look at you two—each of you has more scheming than the last. I have a girlfriend. Why would I be after you two?”

“Even if I do have a little ulterior motive, it’s mainly for the sake of our drama—I’m the producer, and I can smoothly redirect attention to the show.”

“Fine, if you two don’t like me, pick any other male actor from our cast.”

Wang Jinghua shook her head: “That would just hand an advantage to some other actor, and it’d feel too forced.”

As she spoke, she stepped forward and patted Yan Li on the shoulder: “I think Yan Li is the most suitable choice. The idea came from him, he can cooperate with all the subsequent hype, and it makes logical sense.”

After all, they’re two popular rising stars—so for the public to believe they’re fighting over one man, that man must have something extraordinary.

Yan Li has money, and he’s the producer of “Happy Seven Fairies”—the media and netizens would believe it more easily if two Bingbings were feuding over him.

Li Xue hesitated slightly: “Two women fighting over one man sounds good on paper, but it’s hard to hear. Won’t it damage my sister’s reputation?”

“If you’re in this industry, don’t expect to stay spotless. If you’re really worried, just blame it all on me—say I’m cheating on both of you.”

Li Xue was stunned: “Then what about you? That kind of reputation is terrible—it’ll hurt you badly.”

“If you want to make money, don’t care about your face.”

Yan Li was blunt: “Besides, I’m a man—this kind of scandal hurts less. Maybe some people will even envy me.”

Fan Xiaopang suddenly remembered the two silver lockets and the stack of embroidery he’d seen in Yunnan, and sneered.

Sounds great—but isn’t he just using them as practice runs?

“Enough, stop nagging.”

Yan Li didn’t want to argue further and declared directly: “Either stir up gossip, or you two fight on set—pull hair, tear clothes, and post it online. Pick one. Otherwise, no other angle is strong enough.”

Hearing this, Li Bingbing and Fan Xiaopang exchanged glances and spoke almost in unison.

“Stir up gossip!”

“Good.”

Yan Li praised them, then laid out the plan he’d already thought up: “Hype is like cooking—it has to be done in stages, step by step. You can’t dump all the ingredients at once.”

“Before filming starts, I’ll stir up some gossip with Bingbing first. Then, during production, rumors of you two clashing will keep leaking out—ideally, ‘insiders’ will post on the internet, spilling all kinds of details… This builds up gradually. When the drama’s about to air, I’ll be caught with Little Fan by paparazzi, igniting the explosion—and then…”

————

PS: This chapter is 7,000 words. One update today; the missing 1,000 will be made up tomorrow.

(End of chapter)