Chapter 132: The Charming Jin Zha and the New Project

Wild forest

Yan Li stood before Zhang Li (Li Tianwang), who was disheveled and filthy, spear thrust forward, gazing at Dong Xuan, who regarded him with hatred and wariness—his eyes sorrowful yet resolute.

"Huang'er, I hope you'll no longer harbor resentment toward Jin Zha. Jin Zha had no choice—I… I love you."

Saying this, Yan Li tossed his spear upward, leapt into the air, seized it with one arm, spun around, and drove it into his own chest.

Everyone was stunned; Dong Xuan rushed forward in panic.

"Cut."

Director Chen Yongge recorded a few more shots, then suspended Yan Li in corpse-like posture and slowly lowered him.

Afterward came the performances by Dong Xuan, Li Tianwang, and the others; Yan Li had his makeup lightened, then lay still and played the dead body.

After this scene wrapped, Yan Li came back to life; it was cold, so Lin Jiachuan helped him put on clothes and asked casually.

"Bro, still taking the shock-recovery red envelope?"

On his soul and conscience, Yan Li truly felt he might have done something wrong.

In his previous dramas, whether hero or villain, he always died—never survived to the end.

This time, in "Happy Heaven Seven Fairies," he was the genuine lead, and the ending was a happy reunion—he'd finally made it to the end alive.

But even though he lived, he'd died once in the middle, then been resurrected—yet Yan Li still couldn't escape the death scene.

"Take it."

Yan Li nodded: resurrection or not, death was real—shock-recovery red envelopes were still necessary.

Other actors moved to shoot other scenes; only Zhang Li, portraying Li Tianwang, remained to film the part where the father forces his son's death and descends into remorse.

The screenwriter likely drew inspiration from Nezha's story of returning flesh and bones to his parents, making Li Jing force another death upon Jin Zha.

This caused Li Tianwang's Dao heart to shatter, leaving him dazed, numb, almost mad.

If you ask who suffered the most in "Happy Heaven Seven Fairies," Li Tianwang is unquestionably a top contender.

As the comic relief among the righteous side, he's the ultimate unlucky soul—everything goes wrong, he's constantly humiliated.

Zhang Li was cast precisely because he's a martial clown by training, with solid comedic skills, capable of balancing gravitas and humor to make Li Tianwang seem "endearing."

Li Tianwang, as a father, is miserable—but Jin Zha, as his son, is even worse off than any of the Seven Fairies' lovers.

As previously mentioned, Jin Zha and the Third Fairy's romance arc is the most richly developed among all the couples, possibly the most compelling.

Precisely because their relationship is more intense, filled with conflict and twists, and because their character designs are likable, it naturally becomes more engaging.

In "Happy Heaven Seven Fairies," Jin Zha is a celestial warrior, rigidly obedient, upright and impartial.

For this reason, the Queen Mother entrusts him with guarding the spirit stones of the Seven Fairies, who have been banished to the mortal realm.

According to the lore, the Seven Fairies' magical power mostly derives from these spirit stones, so the other fairies plan to steal them to help their sister.

Jin Zha, stiff and honest, is deceived by the fairies; when he realizes the truth, he immediately chases after the Third Fairy, who has taken the spirit stone to the mortal world.

The Third Fairy is fiery-tempered and desperate to help her sister; within moments, they clash.

She's no match for Jin Zha, suffers grave injuries, and seeing the celestial princess's immortal bones damaged, the loyal and filial Jin Zha sacrifices himself—exchanging his own bones for hers to save her.

Afterwards, Jin Zha is tricked by the Broom Star into assuming the identity of a mortal hunter named Jin Qi, tending to the Third Fairy's recovery.

The Third Fairy, never having interacted with a young man before, finds Jin Qi upright and kind, and gradually falls for him; Jin Zha, in turn, is stirred by the Third Fairy's bold, straightforward, and passionate nature.

Since both are injured and cannot use their magic, they endure hardships in the mortal world.

To save the Third Fairy, Jin Zha even loses an arm—and because of this act, she fully falls in love with the mortal hunter he has become.

Meanwhile, Jin Zha, who already loves the Third Fairy, finds himself in a painful predicament—

The woman I love loves another version of myself!

At the same time, the upright Jin Zha is bound by celestial law and dares not defy it, unable to confront the Third Fairy's feelings.

Just as he's torn, Li Tianwang descends to capture the fairies who have secretly come to the mortal realm.

Seeing Jin Zha there, he orders him to act as a spy; Jin Zha, loyal and filial, is pressured by his father with celestial duty and paternal authority, and has no choice but to comply.

Later, the Third Fairy discovers the truth, and they break apart.

Then, Li Tianwang forces Jin Zha to capture the fairies; the Third Fairy, seeing his "betrayal," regards him as an enemy.

On one side is the woman he loves; on the other, loyalty and filial duty—Jin Zha is torn, and ultimately confesses his love to the Third Fairy before committing suicide to atone.

After that, little else is said: the fairies manage to resurrect him, and he and the Third Fairy live together, fighting side by side against a great enemy.

Love and death, bone exchange and severed arm, forbidden loyalty and duty, disguise, betrayal, the agony of choosing between love and righteousness, separation and reunion, rebirth and renewed love, fighting shoulder to shoulder…

Thus, Jin Zha and the Third Fairy's storyline holds the most compelling elements, with the greatest obstacles and highest costs.

Though Jin Zha suffers terribly, he suffers brilliantly—especially compared to the other fairy lovers, whose roles are fewer and weaker, utterly overshadowed by him.

Even the male lead Dong Yong, and the more prominent roles of the God of Food (Eldest) and the Inventor (Fourth), are firmly outshone by him.

Love, when entangled with life and death—even if fake, even if followed by resurrection—is enough to move and etch itself into memory…

Though Yan Li is busy with behind-the-scenes work, he still acts with great seriousness, and recently has been especially diligent.

He's received word that "Heroes of the Sui and Tang Dynasties" may air on satellite TV in February or March.

When that happens, audiences lining up to see Yuwen Chengdu will grow even larger—Yan Li desperately needs a positive, admirable role like Jin Zha to redeem his image.

…

Today's shoot ended; the day's workload wasn't heavy, and the actors were eager for some entertainment.

The screen's beautiful dramas are filmed through long, tedious processes—especially when actors are stuck on set for months; without some recreation, their mental and physical health suffers.

The women's group is divided into many factions, so they each entertain themselves separately.

Dong Xuan, Yang Xue, and Jiang Xin whispered about which pedestrian street had good shops to browse.

Fan Xiaopang and Li Lin chatted and shared their cosmetics, planning to try each other's products and then watch a movie.

Liu Xiaoqing had no scene today; Hu Siyan had no companion, so she invited Li Bingbing, who also had no plans, to treat themselves to a better meal.

The men, meanwhile, acted as a group, debating whether to go drinking, play ball, or settle for cards, internet, or DVDs.

Usually, if Dong Xuan wasn't clinging to him, Yan Li preferred joining the men—relaxing and enjoyable.

But today was different—he had an appointment, so he politely declined the invitation and left the set with Wang Decai, Meng Ji, and others in a car.

Wushi, a restaurant

Yan Li warmly embraced Cheng Lidong: "Brother Cheng, long time no see."

Cheng Lidong, moved, gripped Yan Li's hand: "I always said you were a dragon lying low—once the wind and clouds come, you soar into the heavens, roaring across the nine skies."

"Brother Cheng, don't flatter me—I'm no dragon, I can barely manage to be a worm."

Yan Li kept humbling himself; it was fine to boast a little in front of others, but with Cheng Lidong—who'd watched him grow and offered help along the way—he had to stay modest.

After some small talk, they drank and ate; Cheng Lidong revealed why he'd come to see Yan Li.

He was starting a business!

After years in the industry, he'd built up considerable connections and capital; he refused to just coast in the system—he wanted to dive into the market and take a risk.

Yan Li knew this already; when he first befriended Cheng Lidong, it was because the intelligence network indicated he'd one day become the CEO of a successful film company.

So he'd anticipated this day—and even guessed what Cheng Lidong wanted from him.

No doubt: insufficient funds and limited distribution channels—he needed Yan Li's help.

"Brother Cheng, given our relationship, if you're starting a business, I'll fully support you."

Yan Li was straightforward: not only did he know Cheng Lidong's future success, but even on personal grounds, if he could help, he wouldn't hesitate.

"With your word, I'm at ease."

Cheng Lidong raised his cup in toast to Yan Li, then spoke of his purpose.

As mentioned earlier, Cheng Lidong was a veteran insider who'd overseen several projects and held strong influence in the industry, especially in Zhejiang and surrounding regions.

So this time, his startup wasn't short on funds or distribution channels.

He'd already prepared two projects, both progressing smoothly; one drama was even scheduled to begin filming in two months and had already been pre-purchased by Hangzhou TV.

Hearing this, Yan Li was confused.

If things were going so well, why come to him?

Was he being asked to act?

Yan Li felt a flicker of excitement—finally, someone saw his skill beyond minor supporting roles.

But quickly, Cheng Lidong doused him with cold water.

Not to act—he wanted to collaborate as a producer!

"These two projects of mine are small-scale—I know that myself. They'll break even and make a profit easily, but achieving massive success? Nearly impossible. My goal is just to establish my startup and give investors some return…"

As Cheng Lidong explained, Yan Li understood.

Cheng Lidong had abandoned his stable position in the system to enter business—he didn't want to settle for small gains.

Projects like "Conquest," with low investment and high returns, were rare; to make real money and build his company's reputation, the best path was launching a major project.

But while Cheng Lidong could fund a few million, a larger investment was beyond his capacity alone.

Yan Li had capital; "Conquest" and "Snow Goddess Dragon" had proven his distribution ability; combined with their personal bond, he was a highly valued potential partner.

So Cheng Lidong had come to build rapport, probe his interest, and see if cooperation was possible.

Yan Li asked Cheng Lidong: "How big is this major project?"

"At least 35 million yuan. If needed, investment could reach 50 million."

Yan Li remained calm, but Wang Decai and Meng Ji both sucked in a sharp breath.

A 35 to 50 million yuan TV drama was absolutely a major production in the industry.

Only large-scale historical costume dramas could justify such funding—and even then, only special ones; ordinary costume dramas didn't cost that much.

Brother Cheng's appetite is huge!

Yan Li had already guessed what major project Cheng Lidong intended to pursue.

After all, he had seen some of the company's information on the system—Yongle Film & Television—and the timeline matched up.

The Investiture of the Gods

Yan Li truly admired Cheng Lidong; the man had real guts. With the system in hand, he himself would only dare to pursue mid-to-upper-tier "original adaptations of myths" like The Seven Fairies, but Cheng had his eyes set on one of China's most famous mythological works.

Fortunately, financial pressure and the classic 1983 version stood in the way—otherwise, he suspected the man would dare to film Journey to the West.

Uh, the future information in the monthly intelligence reports only covers a five-year window.

If The Investiture of the Gods gets made, maybe Cheng will actually go on to film Journey to the West afterward.

Still, come to think of it, Yan Li was genuinely interested in The Investiture of the Gods project.

At this stage, the hottest historical genre is wuxia—audiences love it, and TV stations are eager to buy it.

But because of that, everyone's rushing to make wuxia dramas, and the competition is incredibly fierce.

More than half the historical drama sets Yan Li saw at Wushi Film City were wuxia-themed; if things continue like this, supply will far exceed demand, and the market will saturate quickly.

So Yan Li didn't want to make wuxia unless he had the rights to a famous novel or a renowned director or screenwriter on board.

Wuxia was too hard to break through; among the remaining historical genres, Yan Li favored mythological tales.

Famous mythological figures and stories come with built-in audiences; their plots and settings are inherently captivating, the action and visuals are stunning—they have most of wuxia's advantages, plus some that wuxia lacks.

That's why Yan Li invested in The Happy Seven Fairies and made mythological tales the primary focus for Yi'an's medium- to short-term film and television output.

Even if Cheng Lidong hadn't come to him, once Yan Li heard the news, he might have gone to Cheng himself.

"Come on, Brother Cheng, let's talk details."

Yan Li put on an expression of clear interest; Cheng Lidong was thrilled and laid out all his ideas.

Yan Li had guessed right—the project was indeed The Investiture of the Gods. Cheng planned two parts, 60 to 80 episodes total, with an estimated investment of around 80 million.

Cheng had already hired screenwriters to begin script development: the first part would cover King Zhou's campaign against Zhou, the second, King Wu's overthrow of King Zhou.

The basic approach followed the original novel—dynastic transition, divine battles—but to cater to modern audiences, they'd added some romantic subplots and the like.

If Yan Li was interested, Cheng could offer him a 40% stake in the project.

If Yan Li could also bring in funding, further negotiations on other rights were possible.

Yan Li didn't rush to divide stakes or rights—the project hadn't even started yet. First, lock in the deal, then take it slow.

Compared to those, he cared more about the script for The Investiture of the Gods.

He supported sticking close to the original—but this romantic subplot… you're not planning to make Jiang Ziya fall in love, are you?

Adaptation isn't nonsense!

The Seven Fairies falling in love? Fine. Sun Wukong, Erlang Shen, Nezha? Maybe. But making Jiang Ziya—a seventy- or eighty-year-old man—suddenly find romance? Don't shock the audience.

"Not Jiang Ziya. It's Ji Fa. We plan to give King Wu more screen time."

"Ji Fa?"

Yan Li paused. This King Wu had almost no presence in The Investiture of the Gods—he'd nearly forgotten the man existed.

But Ji Fa had no love interests either; there were barely any female characters in the novel.

Daji was too far removed. Was it Deng Chanyu? Then what about Tu Xingsun?

"We can create original characters. The other day I read a news article—you made up a wife for Qin Qiong and Luo Cheng in The Heroes of Sui and Tang, right? We can do the same."

Yan Li's face darkened. He'd seen how The Heroes of Sui and Tang ruined its story with forced romance—and that's exactly why he opposed messing up The Investiture of the Gods.

The character Li Rongrong in The Heroes of Sui and Tang was nothing but annoying—she added zero positive value to the main plot or characters, had negligible presence, and her only memorable moment was being queued up.

Such a character serves no purpose but to pad runtime!

The biggest selling point of The Investiture of the Gods is divine battles—not some king falling in love. If you must add romance, better to focus on King Zhou and Daji.

A cunning fox spirit, a king bewitched by her—both scheming, one greedy for beauty, both sinking into ruin.

Daji torn between emotion and reason; King Zhou, fully aware of her danger, still willingly succumbs.

If you give King Zhou a standout arc, let him choose to help Daji become immortal even as she betrays him. If you give Daji a standout arc, let her originally be sent to destroy the Shang dynasty, only to later go to desperate lengths to save King Zhou's throne.

This kind of adaptation, rooted in the original, is far superior to inventing some random new character.

It makes the villain more layered and ties the plot more naturally to the main storyline.

If you absolutely must create a new character, don't give Ji Fa a love story—give Erlang Shen a female immortal ally or lover, fighting beside him or locked in deadly rivalry.

Erlang Shen's popularity dwarfs that of any king!

Cheng Lidong looked at Yan Li in surprise: "Didn't know you understood screenwriting."

"Can't say I understand. But I like browsing online discussions—learn a lot."

"You can't create in a vacuum. You have to listen to the audience."

"And as for the scenes I mentioned, plenty of online articles and novels have similar ideas. Our crew's already borrowed some plot concepts from the web."

"..."

Yan Li was young and loved surfing the internet; similar online literary forums were his favorite haunts.

After becoming head of a film company, Yan Li deeply understood the importance of creation and actively scoured the web, hoping to discover talented writers and compelling stories.

The more he browsed, the broader his perspective and sharper his instincts became.

He couldn't write a script himself—but spotting flaws or offering sharp creative suggestions? That he could do well.

For a film company boss, that's enough. You don't need to write—you just need to understand, know the market's tastes, judge plot and character quality.

The Investiture of the Gods already had clear advantages; naturally, you should play to its strengths, not add unnecessary fluff.

"You're right. I'll call the screenwriter—we'll discuss it together."

For a project worth tens of millions, Cheng Lidong was cautious—he wasn't instantly convinced by Yan Li, but he wasn't dismissing him either. He planned to consult the screenwriter.

At this level, scripts are rewritten constantly—ten drafts is fast; dozens are common.

As they discussed plot, casting naturally came up; Wang Decai and Meng Ji offered suggestions.

Jiang Ziya was undoubtedly the top priority!

Cheng Lidong leaned toward Hong Kong and Taiwan actors; Yan Li thought there were plenty of seasoned mainland veterans who fit.

For big names: Li Xuejian, Chen Daoming, Zhang Guoli. For lesser-known but powerful actors: You Benchang, Wang Qingxiang, Zhou Lijing.

Shen Gongbao, Wen Zhong, and others were also being considered—until they reached Daji.

Cheng Lidong wanted to bring in Wen Bixia; years ago, Hong Kong made a version of The Investiture of the Gods where Wen played Daji—and it received great reviews.

Yan Li had seen her performance too; it was indeed excellent.

But if he remembered right, she was born in the 1960s—by the time this drama started filming, she'd be nearly forty. A bit old.

So Yan Li recommended someone else. When he thought of Daji, his first thought was her.

Cheng Lidong asked curiously: "Who?"

"Fan Bingbing."

Cheng Lidong heard the name, thought for a moment, and nodded.

"Bingbing is suitable."

Beside them, Meng Ji and Wang Decai exchanged glances. They'd expected Yan Li to recommend Dong Xuan—but instead, he'd pushed Fan Xiaopang.

He'd previously been linked to Li Bingbing in gossip, and now he was constantly seen with Dong Xuan on set—yet when a good role came up, he recommended Fan Xiaopang. Just who did Yan Zong prefer?

I like money!

If Yan Li knew what they were thinking, he'd answer exactly that—he kept personal and professional matters strictly separate.

Within reason, he'd support his women—but never force them.

For the role of Daji in The Investiture of the Gods, neither Dong Xuan nor Qin Lan was as suitable as Fan Xiaopang—and she was already popular. So he recommended her. That simple.

If Li Bingbing fit the role, he'd recommend her without hesitation.

Likewise, if Qin Lan or Dong Xuan fit, then even if they stripped naked in front of him… well, let them take off first…

(End of Chapter)