Chapter 122: The First Wave of Dual-Star Gossip: The

Yu Yanli said he’d stay two hours, but he genuinely stayed over two hours at Li Bing’s place before leaving.

When he left, he carried a bag of dried fruit.

The dried fruit was a specialty sent from Li Bing’s hometown in Heilongjiang; Yu Yanli had praised it while eating, so Li Xue packed him a bag to take along.

Li Xue wanted to see Yu Yanli off, but her sister pulled her back; after Yu Yanli left, Li Bing stared sternly at her sister and warned:

“I’m telling you straight: don’t even think about him—he’s not someone you can rely on.”

“He’s young and successful, full of arrogance right now; women are all over him. Be careful you don’t get burned.”

Li Xue gave a wry smile: “I like him, but he doesn’t like me at all, sis. Don’t worry—I get it.”

She had self-awareness: her looks weren’t outstanding, she was several years older than Yu Yanli, and she didn’t have the star aura her sister did—what could she offer to make a promising newcomer in the industry fall for her?

“You’d better understand.”

Li Bing glanced at her sister; the girl was smarter, but smart people weren’t immune to doing stupid things.

Sometimes, smart people dug themselves deeper into a rut than fools.

Li Bing was so worried because her sister had been hurt this way before—she didn’t want Li Xue to suffer twice.

But Li Bing had grown up with her sister, the two supporting each other for over twenty years, their bond deep; seeing her sister in pain hurt her too.

The woman was truly bold—she smacked her palm and declared bluntly:

“If you’re still thinking about him, I’ll help you sleep with him, satisfy your craving—but you must promise me: just play around, don’t fall in love. That’s like a moth flying into fire.”

Li Xue: “...”

She’d seen her sister act crazy before, but it still left her stunned every time.

She stared silently at her sister, then sidestepped past Li Bing and walked off to tidy the living room.

Li Bing thought her sister was angry, stepped forward to apologize, then heard Li Xue ask softly, slightly embarrassed:

“How?”

Li Bing: “...”

She knew it—women in the Li family were never mild-mannered!

————

Beiying Village

“Achoo~”

Yu Yanli sneezed; Dong Xuan handed him a tissue: “Caught a cold?”

“Maybe from the wind—we waited in the parking lot for a while, it was freezing.”

“I’ll make you some ginger soup to warm you up.”

“I’ll do it.”

Yu Yanli went to the kitchen himself; Qin Lan couldn’t cook—she could only boil frozen dumplings or noodles. Dong Xuan was a bit better, but barely—she could make a few basic home dishes, and did slightly better with Northeastern cuisine.

Making ginger soup wasn’t hard, but if you didn’t know how, the taste was awful, unpleasant to drink, and ineffective—so Yu Yanli chose to make it himself.

Soon, the ginger soup was ready; he drank a bowl, and whether it was psychological or not, he felt thoroughly warmed.

Then he added a bit of brown sugar and made Dong Xuan a brown sugar ginger tea—good for warming the stomach and nourishing blood; Dong Xuan’s period had just ended two days ago, perfect for replenishment.

Dong Xuan held her cup of brown sugar ginger tea and probed Yu Yanli for details about the gossip with Li Bing.

“Just holding hands? You didn’t even kiss? Then just put it on the front page—‘Li Bing Returns Home with Millionaire Boyfriend, Can’t Wait, Passionate Kiss in Parking Lot’—how much more buzz could you want?”

Yu Yanli stared at Dong Xuan strangely, unsure if she was being sarcastic or had developed a new trait.

Just moments ago she’d been frantically consulting her best friend on strategy, and now she was already fantasizing scenes.

Dong Xuan realized how bizarre her remark sounded, blushed, and tried to explain:

I’m just genuinely curious—it’s my first time witnessing real gossip and hype.

To prove her magnanimity, she added casually: “Besides, this is all acting. We’re professional actors—we know kissing and sex scenes are just performance forms. This is child’s play to me. I’m fine with it.”

“Good.”

Yu Yanli nodded, then said: “I was worried holding hands isn’t enough. Maybe we should add a kiss scene—what about a passionate kiss in the elevator? Let the surveillance footage leak.”

As he spoke, he made two gestures with his hands: “Should we add these too? Seems more realistic.”

“Realistic your ass!”

Dong Xuan couldn’t take it anymore; her good mood earlier had come from hearing they’d only held hands, so she’d pretended to be calm.

But now, with Yu Yanli’s suggestion, she imagined the scene—and wanted to chop up that pair of bastards.

She tolerated Qin Lan better than most, out of pragmatic compromise—not because she didn’t get jealous.

On the contrary, as mentioned before, Dong Xuan was a jealous woman; back in school, if Yu Yanli joked with a female classmate, she’d turn sour. If she could, she’d lock him at home so no other vixens could see him.

“Are you actually interested in that Li woman?”

Dong Xuan eyed Yu Yanli suspiciously; he didn’t waste words—explaining baseless suspicions was too much trouble. Better to just (sleep) with her.

So he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom; she kicked her legs feebly.

“I haven’t finished drinking.”

“Stop drinking—I’ll give you something better.”

…

The next day, the weather warmed slightly.

Zhao Chunling walked into the company with a cup of hot soy milk, about to return to her desk, when she saw a crowd gathered around another desk, talking excitedly.

She loved gossip, so she pushed through and asked curiously:

“Did you hear about Li Bing? The one from ‘Clever Little Don’t Know’—she’s dating someone.”

“I know, I know.”

Zhao Chunling didn’t even have time to drink her soy milk—she shoved it into the hands of the person at the computer and snatched the mouse to check the news.

Exclusive News from Beijing Entertainment News: Popular Actress Li Bing’s Secret Romance Exposed!

By Reporters: Cao Xuan, Ma Jin

【On a biting winter night in Beijing, our reporters caught the popular actress Li Bing in the midst of a secret romance!

… The couple walked hand in hand, heads close, and the man personally tied her scarf to keep her warm; Li Bing nestled her frost-nipped cheeks into the scarf, her eyes glowing with sweetness that seemed to melt the cold winter air of Beijing.

…

The man’s identity revealed: Yu Yanli once played Wu Tian in ‘Conquest,’ worth millions, young and accomplished…

Yu Yanli is currently producer of ‘The Seven Fairies,’ and Li Bing had previously confirmed her role in the drama—unclear whether she helped his career or he invested heavily to win her smile.

…

Will this ‘Bing-Yan Love’ lead to marriage? Our reporters will continue tracking—stay tuned.】

Photo *8

(Photo by Reporter Cao Xuan, taken in Chaoyang, Beijing)

Zhao Chunling zoomed in on the images—she had to admit, Cao Xuan’s photography lived up to Yu Yanli’s trust.

From hundreds of photos, the eight selected were flawless: clear, authentic, and aesthetically pleasing.

The man was handsome, the woman beautiful; Yu Yanli looked tall and rugged, with outstanding presence; Li Bing was spirited, yet added a touch of tender, love-struck femininity.

Especially one photo of Yu Yanli bending to adjust Li Bing’s scarf stood out.

Due to the angle, their faces were nearly touching—as if their noses were brushing—seeming to whisper; one tender and attentive, the other soft and affectionate. No wonder the article raved—it truly felt like a real-life idol drama.

Zhao Chunling wasn’t interested in Li Bing—she focused on Yu Yanli’s close-up: “He’s good-looking. Kind of like Koji Takahashi.”

Nonsense—I think he’s more like a young Ti Long.

Who are Koji Takahashi and Ti Long?

“You’re a Gen-Z kid—you wouldn’t know.”

A bespectacled older woman glanced and nodded: “He’s got real masculinity, tall, way better than that little punk Xie something.”

A young girl immediately defended her idol Xie Tingfeng.

In today’s mainland entertainment scene, the top young male stars were hard to name—Lu Yi, Li Yapeng, Huang Sanshi, Zhou Jie—all strong contenders.

But across the entire Chinese-speaking entertainment world, the new-generation heartthrob with the biggest name was still Xie Tingfeng.

Especially among the young, they admired his rebellious, untamed personality.

Plus, Hong Kong’s industry poured resources into him, propelling his rapid growth in film, TV, and music, with a massive fanbase.

Add his constant media exposure over his triangle romance with Queen Wang and Zhang Baizhi—and he was always topping headlines, commanding influence even among casual viewers.

But big trees attract wind—many loved him, many hated him too.

Especially conservative types and older folks looked down on him, equating him with Hong Kong’s “Young Thugs.”

In contrast, Yu Yanli’s rugged, upright looks, quiet demeanor (in reality, he was unknown), and early success were more admired.

Even the news comments section, though flooded with Li Bing’s angry fans, had many netizens expressing approval and blessings.

Talented man, beautiful woman—a popular actress plus a rising producer, their careers complementing each other—many thought they were well-matched.

Clearly, Yu Yanli’s “worth millions” label played a key role.

If he were just a minor actor, everyone would’ve mocked him as a gold-digger.

Now, aside from Li Bing’s fans, the mainstream public opinion leaned toward thinking Li Bing was too old for Yu Yanli—accusing her of being an old cow munching tender grass.

Soon, the boss arrived, forcing Zhao Chunling and others to scatter—but their gossip urge remained.

She sneakily glanced at the boss’s office—he was working—so Zhao Chunling logged onto Tianya Forum to find like-minded netizens to keep discussing.

At this point, Tianya Forum had already begun discussing the matter.

Compared to the news page, where fans dominated, here it was pure gossip.

Plus, with years of gossip-watching, their instincts and judgment differed from ordinary bystanders.

For example, some suggested this was likely a publicity stunt, since both were from the cast of “Joyful Seven Fairies,” and it was probably done to promote their new drama.

Or perhaps Li Bingbing was stepping out to boost exposure for her upcoming film “The Mobile,” with Yan Li as its producer—the two collaborating for mutual publicity gain.

Others dug up old rumors, claiming Li Bingbing was already taken.

Whether a mysterious tycoon, one of Hua Yi’s two Wangs, or her old classmate Ren Quan, suddenly appearing Yan Li looked clearly fake.

Of course, this was only one side; many others believed the rumor was real.

The details felt authentic, not staged for publicity; photos had surfaced over half a year ago—would anyone bother with such a long setup just to stir up gossip? Their statuses matched logically.

As for claims that Li Bingbing was already taken, the truth was unclear—even if true, couldn’t she break up?

Everyone voiced opinions, arguing endlessly—and this was exactly what Yan Li wanted.

He didn’t want congratulations; he wanted attention. The fiercer the hype, the higher the exposure, and the more it would help “Joyful Seven Fairies.”

…

As a top-tier actress in mainland China’s second tier, Li Bingbing’s fame and influence were undeniable.

After “Beijing Entertainment News” published the rumor, it was immediately republished by major portals and print media, and even some TV entertainment programs covered the story.

The name Yan Li received another concentrated burst of exposure.

Beyond his role as Wu Tian in “Conquest,” his rise to fame was also eagerly discussed by some media outlets.

Yan Li himself received many interview requests, all of which he ignored; Li Bingbing’s side faced even more media inquiries, including from Hong Kong and Taiwan.

Li Bingbing herself was somewhat surprised—she wasn’t new to gossip stunts.

Ren Quan was her longtime partner; whenever she needed exposure, she’d bring him in. Last year, during the filming of “In the Mood for Love,” she was linked to Lu Yi; this year, for the drama “Dynamic Passion,” she even rode the coattails of King Guo.

But except for King Guo, whose connection was minor and drew little attention, the other two cases didn’t perform as well as Yan Li’s.

“…”

Li Bingbing and her sister, along with Wang Jinghua, analyzed the situation and suspected the issue lay in money—and Yan Li’s own outstanding image.

In today’s era, actors may be famous, but not necessarily wealthy.

This year’s Forbes Celebrity Ranking listed fewer than ten artists earning ten million annually, most of whom were from Hong Kong and Taiwan.

Given the industry’s environment, the public perceived artists as rich—but not that rich.

Meanwhile, male celebrities and young tycoons naturally occupied different tiers in the public’s simple perception.

While many female stars dated wealthy men or heirs, few were as physically attractive as Yan Li; people are visual creatures—they like beauty, and a handsome man with a beautiful woman makes for a pleasing sight.

“Put simply, Lu Yi and others were routine gossip stunts—everyone’s grown tired of them. Your connection with Yan Li is fresher and offers more room for discussion.”

Li Xue summed it up. Wang Jinghua was delighted—this rumor’s success meant she’d saved on PR costs. She grew eager.

“Should we add more fuel and do it again?”

Li Bingbing was also tempted—being a star, seeing your name daily on the headlines, mostly with positive feedback—who could resist?

“Yan Li said, ‘Too much is as bad as too little. Hold off, then respond. No more secret photos—that’s fake.’”

Li Xue, seeing her sister and Miss Wang’s expressions, added a remark. Li Bingbing, hearing this, exhaled and pursed her lips.

“Listen to him.”

Yan Li’s gossip strategy succeeded brilliantly: it massively boosted her exposure, and even the “The Mobile” crew benefited—Hua Yi’s young boss and Feng Xiaogang both called to offer congratulations.

This also made Li Bingbing trust Yan Li even more; coupled with her sister Li Xue’s apparent opposition, Li Bingbing chose to follow his advice.

Wang Jinghua nodded in agreement, but her eyes subtly swept over the Li sisters.

These sisters seemed to listen to Yan Li a little too closely…

————

PS: These past few days, I’ve been staying up late—my eyes ache terribly, and staring at my phone too long makes me cry nonstop.

Requesting a one-chapter break to rest; if I recover tomorrow, I’ll make up with two consecutive 10,000-word chapters.

(End of Chapter)