Chapter 132: The Charming Jin Zha and the New Project

Wild forest

Yan Li stood before the disheveled Zhang Li (Li Tianwang), spear thrust forward, gazing at Dong Xuan, who regarded him with loathing and caution, his eyes sorrowful yet resolute.

"Huang'er, I hope you won't harbor resentment toward Jin Zha anymore. 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, leading the others.

"Cut."

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

After that came the performances by Dong Xuan, Li Tianwang, and the others; Yan Li had his face whitened by makeup and lay still, playing the corpse.

After this scene wrapped, Yan Li came back to life; it was cold, so Lin Jiachuan draped a coat over him and asked casually.

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

For heaven's sake, Yan Li truly felt he might have done something wrong.

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

This time, in "Huan Tian Xi Di Seven Fairies," he was the genuine lead, and the ending was a happy reunion—he finally made it to the end alive.

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

"Take it."

Yan Li nodded; resurrection was resurrection, but death was real—shock-recovery red envelopes were still necessary.

Several actors moved to shoot other scenes, but only Zhang Li, portraying Li Tianwang, stayed behind to film the scene where the father forces his son's death and regrets it.

The writers likely drew inspiration from Nezha's bone-returning-to-father and flesh-returning-to-mother tale, making Li Jing force another Jin Zha to die.

This caused the drama's Li Tianwang to shatter his Dao heart, become dazed, even bordering on madness.

If we're talking about the most tragic character in "Huan Tian Xi Di Seven Fairies," Li Tianwang is definitely a contender.

As the comedic pillar among the righteous side, he's the ultimate unlucky guy—everything goes wrong, he's constantly humiliated.

Casting Zhang Li was because he's a Wu Chou by training, with solid comedic skills, capable of both solemnity and humor, making Li Tianwang seem "likable."

Li Tianwang, as a father, is unlucky—but Jin Zha, as his son, is the most tragic of all seven fairies' lovers.

As previously mentioned, Jin Zha and the Third Fairy's romance arc is the richest in turning points among all the couples, possibly the most compelling.

Because their relationship is more intense, with more conflicts and twists, and because their character designs are appealing, it naturally becomes more watchable.

In "Huan Tian Xi Di Seven Fairies," Jin Zha is a celestial warrior, rigidly rule-abiding, upright and impartial.

Thus, Jin Zha earned Wang Mu's trust and was assigned to guard the spirit stones of the seven fairies banished to the mortal realm.

According to the lore, the seven fairies' magical power mostly comes from their spirit stones, so the other fairies wanted to steal them to help their sister.

Jin Zha, stiff and honest, was deceived by the fairies; when he realized the truth, he immediately chased after the Third Fairy, who had taken the spirit stone to the mortal realm.

The Third Fairy had a fiery temper and was desperate to help her sister; they clashed within seconds.

She was no match for Jin Zha, was gravely wounded, and seeing the Third Fairy's celestial bones damaged, the loyal and filial Jin Zha resorted to bone-for-bone exchange to save her.

Later, Jin Zha was tricked by the Broom Star, transforming into a mortal hunter named Jin Qi to care for the Third Fairy while she healed.

The Third Fairy had never interacted with a young man before; she felt Jin Qi was upright and kind, and gradually fell for him, while Jin Zha, too, was stirred by the Third Fairy's proud, straightforward, and passionate nature.

Since both were injured and couldn't use magic, they endured hardships in the mortal realm.

Jin Zha even severed one arm to save the Third Fairy—and because of this act, she fell completely in love with his mortal hunter identity.

Meanwhile, Jin Zha, who already loved the Third Fairy, faced a humiliating predicament—

The woman I love loves another version of myself!

At the same time, the upright Jin Zha was bound by celestial law and dared not break it, delaying his response to the Third Fairy's feelings.

Just as he struggled, Li Tianwang descended to capture the fairies who had sneaked to the mortal realm.

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

Later, the Third Fairy discovered the truth, and they broke up.

Then, Li Tianwang forced Jin Zha to capture the fairies, while the Third Fairy saw his actions as betrayal and regarded him as an enemy.

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

After that, little more was said—the fairies managed to resurrect him, and he and the Third Fairy lived together, fighting the great enemy side by side.

Love and death, bone exchange, severed arm, forbidden imperial romance, disguise, betrayal, loyalty versus love, separation, resurrection, renewed love, fighting together…

Thus, Jin Zha and the Third Fairy's storyline has the most appeal, the greatest obstacles, and the highest cost.

Jin Zha may be tragic, but he's tragically brilliant—especially compared to the other fairy lovers, whose screen time and lore were weaker, utterly overshadowed by him.

Even the male lead Dong Yong, the more prominent God of Food (Eldest), and the Inventor (Fourth) were 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…

Although Yan Li was busy with behind-the-scenes work, he still acted with great seriousness, and recently even more diligently.

He had received word that "Sui Tang Hero Legend" might air on satellite TV in February–March.

When that happens, the audience queue for Yuwen Chengdu will grow even longer; Yan Li urgently 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 to find some entertainment.

The appealing TV dramas on screen are actually tedious to film, especially when actors are stuck on set for months; without entertainment, it harms their mental and physical health.

The girls had many factions, so they each did their own thing.

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 at home and then watch a movie.

Liu Xiaoqing had no scene today, Hu Siyan had no companion, so she found Li Bingbing—who also had no one—and they went out for a better meal.

The guys, meanwhile, acted as a group, gathered to discuss whether to go drinking, play ball, or, failing that, play cards, go online, or watch DVDs.

At this time, if Dong Xuan wasn't clinging to him, Yan Li would rather play with the guys—it was more relaxing and enjoyable.

But today was different; he had an engagement and could only politely decline the invitation, calling Wang Decai, Meng Ji, and others to leave the set by car.

Wushi, a certain restaurant

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

Cheng Lidong gripped Yan Li's arm with emotion: "I always said you were a coiled dragon in the depths—once the wind and clouds come, you soar into the sky, your dragon's roar echoing through the nine heavens."

"Don't humiliate me, Brother Cheng—I'm not a dragon, I can barely manage to be a snake."

Yan Li remained humble; it was fine to boast a little in front of others, but with someone like Cheng Lidong, who had watched him grow and supported him along the way, he had to stay modest.

After some small talk, the group drank and ate, and Cheng Lidong revealed why he had come to see Yan Li.

He was going to start a business!

After years of struggling in the industry, he had built up plenty of connections and capital—he didn't want to just drift along within the system; he planned to dive into the sea and take a risk.

Yan Li understood this well; when he first befriended Cheng Lidong, it was because the system's intelligence hinted that Cheng would one day become the boss of a relatively successful film and television company.

So he had long anticipated this day, and even guessed what Cheng Lidong wanted from him.

Nothing more than insufficient funds and limited distribution channels—he needed Yan Li's help.

"Brother Cheng, with our relationship, if you're starting a business, I'll give you full support."

Yan Li was straightforward; even without knowing Cheng Lidong's future prospects, just based on their personal friendship, if he could help, Yan Li wouldn't hesitate.

"With those words from my younger brother, I'm at ease."

Cheng Lidong raised his cup to toast Yan Li, then spoke of the purpose behind his visit.

As mentioned earlier, Cheng Lidong was still a veteran in the industry, having overseen several projects and maintained strong influence, especially in Zhejiang Province and surrounding areas.

So this time, his startup wasn't short on funds, and distribution channels weren't currently an issue.

He had already prepared two projects, both progressing smoothly; one drama was even scheduled to begin filming in two months, with Hangzhou Television already pre-purchased it.

Hearing Cheng Lidong's words, Yan Li was confused.

From the sound of it, things were going well—funding and distribution weren't problems, so why come to him?

Could it be he wanted Yan Li to act?

Yan Li felt a small surge of excitement—finally, someone had recognized his superb acting beyond minor supporting roles.

But soon, Cheng Lidong doused him with cold water.

It wasn't for acting—it was for collaborative production!

"These two projects I have are small-scale—I know my limits. Making back the investment and earning profit won't be hard, but achieving massive success or huge profits is nearly impossible. My goal is just to establish my startup's footing and give investors some assurance…"

As Cheng Lidong explained, Yan Li understood his intent.

Cheng Lidong had abandoned his stable position and career within the system to enter business—he certainly didn't want to settle for small-scale ventures.

Projects like "The Conquest," with low investment and high returns, were too rare; to earn more and build his company's reputation, the best way was to launch a major project.

But while Cheng Lidong could handle projects worth a few million or tens of millions, larger investments were beyond what he could manage alone.

Yan Li had capital; "The Conquest" and "Snowflakes Goddess Dragon" had already proven his distribution ability, and with their personal friendship, he was one of Cheng Lidong's most valued potential partners.

So he had come to build rapport, probe the waters, and see if he could secure a collaboration.

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

"At least 35 million, and if needed, investment could reach 50 million."

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

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

Only large-scale historical fantasy projects could justify such funding—and even then, only exceptional ones; ordinary historical dramas didn't require that much.

Brother Cheng's appetite is huge!

Yan Li had already guessed which major project Cheng Lidong wanted to pursue.

After all, he had once seen partial data from Cheng's future company, Yongle Film & Television, through the system, and the timeline matched.

"The Investiture of the Gods"

Yan Li truly admired Cheng Lidong—he had real guts. Even with the system, Yan Li only dared to pursue projects like "The Seven Fairies," a medium-to-high budget "original myth adaptation"; Cheng Lidong, on the other hand, was already eyeing one of China's most famous mythological works.

Fortunately, financial pressure and the brilliance of the 1983 version held him back—otherwise, Yan Li suspected the man would dare to film "Journey to the West."

Hmm, the system's future intelligence only covered a five-year window.

If "The Investiture of the Gods" succeeded, maybe Cheng Lidong would really go on to film "Journey to the West."

But then again, Yan Li himself was quite interested in "The Investiture of the Gods."

At this stage, the hottest historical genre was Wu Xia—audiences loved it, and TV stations were eager to acquire it.

But because of that, everyone rushed to make Wu Xia dramas, and competition was extremely fierce.

More than half the historical drama sets Yan Li saw in Wushi Film City were Wu Xia; if things continued like this, supply would soon exceed demand and the market would saturate.

So Yan Li didn't want to make Wu Xia, unless it had a renowned copyright or a famous director and screenwriter behind it.

Wu Xia was too difficult to break into; among the remaining historical genres, Yan Li favored mythological stories.

Famous mythological figures and tales came with built-in audiences, their plots and settings were inherently captivating, the action and visuals were stunning—they had most of Wu Xia's strengths, plus some advantages Wu Xia lacked.

That's why Yan Li invested in "Huan Tian Xi Di: Seven Fairies" and made mythological stories the core focus of Yi'an's medium- to short-term film and television strategy.

Even if Cheng Lidong hadn't come to him, Yan Li would likely have sought him out once he heard the news.

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

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

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

He had already hired screenwriters to develop the script: the first part would cover King Zhou's campaign against the Zhou, and the second part would depict Wu Wang's campaign against King Zhou.

The basic structure would follow the original "Investiture of the Gods," with dynastic change and divine battles—but to appeal to modern audiences, a bit of romance and emotional subplot had been added.

If Yan Li is interested, Cheng Lidong can cede 40% of the project's share.

If Yan Li can also bring in funding, we can discuss further—other specific rights can be negotiated.

Yan Li didn't rush to divide shares and rights; the project hadn't even gotten off the ground yet. Get the deal settled first, then take it slow.

Compared to these, he cared more about the script of "The Investiture of the Gods."

He supported sticking close to the original—would they really make Jiang Ziya fall in love?

Adaptation isn't random fabrication!

Everyone understands if the Seven Fairies fall in love; it's not impossible for Sun Wukong, Erlang Shen, or Nezha to do so—but having Jiang Ziya, a seventy- or eighty-year-old man, experience a springtime revival? Don't shock the audience.

"Not Jiang Ziya—it's Ji Fa. We plan to give Wu Wang more screen time."

"Ji Fa?"

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

But who would Ji Fa fall in love with? "The Investiture of the Gods" had very few female characters.

Su Daji was too distant—was it Deng Chanyu? Then what about Tu Xingsun?

"We can create original characters. The other day I saw a news report—you previously made 'Heroes of Sui and Tang,' right? The original had almost no female roles, yet you created wives for Qin Qiong and Luo Cheng. We can do the same."

Yan Li's face darkened. He'd seen how "Heroes of Sui and Tang" recklessly added romantic subplots—and that's why he opposed reckless changes to "The Investiture of the Gods."

The character Li Rongrong in "Heroes of Sui and Tang" was nothing but annoying—she contributed nothing positive to the main cast or plot, had low presence, and her only moment of glory was being queued up.

Such a character serves no purpose but to pad runtime!

"The Investiture of the Gods"'s biggest selling point is divine combat—not Wu Wang falling in love. Even if you must add romance, better to focus on Zhou Wang and Su Daji.

A cunning fox spirit, a king bewitched by her—originally one plotted malice, the other craved beauty, yet both sank into ruin together.

Su Daji struggled between emotion and reason; Zhou Wang knew her harm yet willingly embraced it.

If you give Zhou Wang more depth, have him choose to be destroyed by Su Daji so she can ascend to immortality; if you give Su Daji more depth, have her originally sent to destroy the Shang dynasty, yet later go to great lengths to protect Zhou Wang's throne.

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

It makes the villain more three-dimensional and integrates seamlessly with the main plot.

If you absolutely must create original characters, don't give Wu Wang a romance—give Erlang Shen a female immortal fighting beside him, or loving him, or killing him.

Erlang Shen's popularity far exceeds Wu Wang's!

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

"Can't say I understand—just like browsing online discussions. Very enlightening."

"You can't create alone—you must listen to the public's voice."

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

"..."

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

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

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

He couldn't write a script himself, but spotting flaws or offering sharp creative suggestions? He was quite skilled.

For a film company boss, that's enough—you don't need to create, but you must understand, know market tastes, and judge plot and character quality.

"The Investiture of the Gods" already had clear advantages; naturally, we should play to our strengths and avoid adding unnecessary fluff.

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

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

For a project of this scale, the script is rewritten and revised constantly; ten drafts are considered fast, dozens are common.

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

Jiang Ziya was Top Priority!

Cheng Lidong leaned toward Hong Kong and Taiwan actors; Yan Li thought there were plenty of seasoned mainland veterans suited for the role.

For example, well-known names: Li Xuejian, Chen Daoming, Zhang Guoli; lesser-known but powerful actors: You Benchang, Wang Qingxiang, Zhou Li Jing.

Roles like Shen Gongbao and Wen Zhong were also assigned. When they reached Su Daji...

Cheng Lidong wanted to invite Wen Bixia; a few years ago, Hong Kong made a "The Investiture of the Gods," and Wen played Su Daji—highly praised.

Yan Li had seen her performance as Su Daji—it was indeed excellent.

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

So Yan Li recommended someone else for Su Daji—his first thought upon considering the role was her.

Cheng Lidong asked curiously: "Who?"

"Fan Bingbing."

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

"Fan Bingbing is indeed suitable."

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

This guy had previously stirred up gossip with Li Bingbing, and now he was constantly cozying up to Dong Xuan on set—yet now, for a major role, he recommended Fan Xiaopang. Just who does Yan Zong really like?

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 reasonable bounds, he'd support his women—but never force-feed them roles.

For the role of Su 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 Fan Xiaopang. That's all.

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

Likewise, if the role suited Qin or Dong, even if both of them stripped naked in front of him... well, let them take off first...

(End of Chapter)