Chapter 145: When Did Beidian

After returning to Jingcheng in mid-April, Yan Li spent most of his time at banquets and social engagements.

He met with TV stations, investors, and industry insiders—everything he needed—and though it was tiring, he achieved some results.

A few of these were worth mentioning.

First, Yan Li secured distribution rights for two productions, one of which was precisely the show that appeared monthly in the Top 50 ratings of 2005.

If these two dramas distribute smoothly, they could bring Yian Film & Television 2 to 4 million yuan in revenue.

Second, the long-awaited *Railway Guerrillas* finally got approval from Shandong TV.

Yan Li secured 30% of the project's shares, co-producing with Shandong Film & Television and another Shandong-based company, under the terms of 3 million yuan plus free distribution.

With this investment and share, plus free distribution, Yan Li's profit potential was limited.

So everyone loves partnering with outsiders—they're easy to fool.

Companies like Tangren are hard to negotiate with; trying to get an edge over official partners like CCTV or Shandong Film is next to impossible.

But *Railway Guerrillas* already had Shandong Film in charge, so they didn't need distribution help—the so-called "free distribution" was just assisting Shandong Film.

Yan Li never expected to get rich off *Railway Guerrillas*.

Red-themed projects, if handled well, guarantee steady profits through policies and subsidies—but aiming for big gains is like winning a scratch-off lottery.

So Yan Li's goal was stability, plus securing some hidden official benefits.

But he still got some unexpected rewards.

Through this collaboration, Yan Li connected with Shandong TV and convinced them to lead the joint broadcast of *The Seven Fairies*.

Compared to *Railway Guerrillas*, this project was truly profitable.

Shandong Satellite TV would lead, Shanghai Satellite TV already leaned toward it, and Yan Li had existing connections with Tianjin Satellite TV from distributing *Conquest*.

If he secured one more satellite channel, he was confident he could push the first-run broadcast rights for *The Seven Fairies* to 26 to 30 million yuan.

If the production hype grew even bigger, landing 8 million yuan from a single satellite channel wasn't out of the question.

Beyond that, it'd be hard—four channels broadcasting together meant lower acquisition costs for each, but also lower ratings and ad revenue.

*The Seven Fairies* had a clear production cost, and TV stations were sharp and cautious—hard to fool.

Yan Li wasn't greedy.

This figure far exceeded Hunan TV's exclusive price, guaranteeing immediate cost recovery and substantial profit.

Most importantly, Yan Li had spent not a single yuan on *The Seven Fairies*—every cent earned was pure profit.

…

In May, Yan Li took time off to visit Northeast China.

*Survival: Migrant Workers* had been shooting for a while; as the project's first producer and someone who'd invested millions, he couldn't avoid visiting.

Jilin Province, Song City

*Survival: Migrant Workers* had rented a construction site to film most of its scenes.

When Yan Li arrived on set, had it not been for the crew and cameras, he almost thought he'd gone to the wrong place.

The actors, all grimy, sun-darkened, and rough-skinned, sat hunched over with humble, rustic smiles tinged with village cunning, speaking in their native dialects—indistinguishable from real migrant workers.

Not just similar—many background actors were actual migrant workers hired by the crew.

Yet even the professional actors blended in perfectly; unless you recognized a familiar face, you couldn't tell the difference.

Yan Li, rarely one to praise, gave Guan Hu a thumbs-up: "Guang Dao, great crew, great actors."

He saw that Guan Hu had put in real effort.

The actors were carefully selected, likely trained and prepared in advance—those skin tones? Definitely spent plenty of time in the sun before joining.

On set, they didn't fuss—they wore dirty, sweaty, stinking clothes without complaint, slept in dormitories, and worked with no half-hearted acting, chasing documentary-level realism.

Yan Li had encountered such a crew once before: Gao Qunshu's *Conquest*.

But *Conquest*'s subject was distant from the masses; *Survival: Migrant Workers* hit with far stronger documentary intensity.

From the perspective of an actor and film professional, Yan Li admired this crew.

But as a film company boss and distributor, the more he watched, the more uneasy he grew.

The subject matter was already unappealing, and now it was shot so… bluntly—no chance of broadcast on national TV, and even provincial channels would struggle to air it.

Yan Li even worried the drama might be banned and pulled.

Without disturbing Guan Hu's crew, Yan Li met with the producer, Li Xing, and quietly observed the set.

This unexpected visitor naturally drew attention from some actors.

"Who's that?"

"So handsome—he must be an actor. Isn't that Du Boss's nephew?"

"Bullshit. Have you ever seen an actor followed by the director and escorted by the producer?"

"He's an actor—I've seen his work. Wu Tian from *Conquest*."

"Yeah, now I remember—it's him."

As the actors chatted, a long-haired ugly man with big teeth and a fishy breath sidled over.

"What're you talking about?"

"Look, a new face."

The long-haired man glanced, then said: "No new face—that's the big boss."

The other actors froze. Compared to them, this long-haired man was close to Director Guan Hu and well-informed—they trusted him.

"Big boss? So young?"

The long-haired man looked at them in confusion: "Don't you watch the news? Yan Li—Li Bing's girlfriend. Never heard of him?"

Some actors looked blank; others suddenly understood: "Oh, that's him! I knew he looked familiar."

The long-haired man didn't care. He went on: "Now that you know who he is, watch yourselves. Cross him, and even Guan Dao can't save you."

…

At lunch, the crew took a break to eat. Yan Li got a box meal and joined them, eating as he asked Guan Hu:

"What time do you wrap tonight?"

Guan Hu glanced at the assistant director, who replied: "We've got night scenes—probably wrap around ten."

Anyone who'd worked on sets knew: if they said ten, finishing by ten-thirty was fast; twelve or even past midnight was common.

Yan Li had been on several sets—he could count on one hand the number of times they'd wrapped on time or early.

"Call two restaurants tonight. Add a special meal for the crew—I'll pay."

"Thank you, Brother Yan."

The assistant director beamed. Usually, investors came, took the director and leads out to dinner.

Seeing Yan Li eat the box meal at mealtime, they'd assumed he was frugal—turns out he was generous, treating the entire crew.

The assistant director was a loudmouth—or perhaps deliberately promoting Yan Li—and made sure the news spread.

Soon, the whole crew was cheerful. *Survival: Migrant Workers* had a tight budget—everyone knew the food was poor.

The leads earned well and occasionally treated themselves.

Most crew members, to save money, just endured the set's meals—so a free meal was a treat.

Yan Li stayed on set the afternoon, watching the filming—several actors delivered outstanding performances, trading lines like micro-theater, and he found it deeply satisfying.

During actor breaks, Yan Li went over to hand out cigarettes and chat.

Though *Survival: Migrant Workers* had a modest budget, it boasted many powerhouse actors.

Tao Zeru, who played in *Black Hole*; Ma Shaohua, the type-cast Sun Yat-sen; Sun Song, who portrayed Wang Husheng in *Longing*; veteran actor Sha Jingchang (the old man from *Sihe Academy*).

Yan Li had seen all their work. He also met unfamiliar actors.

Like the long-haired ugly man—if Yan Li hadn't read the script and known he played Xue Liu, a key role, he'd have thought he was a real migrant worker cast as background.

After chatting a bit, Yan Li was even more surprised: this actor named Huang Bao was actually his Beidian junior.

Wait—has Beidian's admissions become this… diverse?!

"I'm from the 2002 voice acting class—vocational."

Seeing Yan Li's shock, Huang Bao added an explanation.

He was used to it—when people heard he was from Beidian, their first thought was: "Has Beidian's standards dropped so low?"

"Then we missed our chance—I'm vocational too. You entered the year I graduated. Otherwise, you'd have called me senior."

Yan Li realized he'd judged by appearance and quickly tried to mend it, invoking their alma mater to build rapport.

Huang Bao was quick-witted: "Even after graduation, you're still my senior. Besides, meeting outside school makes our bond even stronger."

Yan Li smiled. He disliked calling seniors "senior," but loved calling juniors "junior."

Still—he'd never met a junior older than himself.

After chatting a while, Yan Li got a call, said his goodbyes, and walked off.

Huang Bao lit a Yuxi cigarette Yan Li had handed out. A fellow actor teased: "You just called him senior—don't you want his number?"

"Who am I to ask the big boss for his number?"

Huang Bao knew his place—a nobody actor. He'd flattered his way into calling Yan Li senior just to get noticed. To treat him like a real senior? That'd be asking for humiliation.

As they spoke, one actor suddenly sat up excitedly: "Jiahui's here!"

At once, many resting actors leaned over to look at the slender figure in a shirt and jeans.

*Survival: Migrant Workers* was a classic male-dominated drama—dozens of male actors, female actors barely enough to count on one hand.

That made every female actor a prized commodity.

Wang Ou, who played the female lead Wang Jiahui, was the most beautiful and had scenes on-site—leaving a deep impression on the male actors.

But Wang Ou rarely came to set—except to film her scenes, she stayed at the hotel, accompanied only by other actresses and assistants.

Even when she appeared, she rarely interacted with these male actors, her demeanor somewhat cold.

It wasn't just Wang Ou— the other two female actors with scenes on the construction site behaved the same.

One reason was the male actors' unkempt appearance; another was that there were too many of them— dozens of big, burly men staring at one woman, which made anyone uneasy.

But this didn't dampen everyone's admiration for Wang Ou.

The colder she was, the more noble and pure she seemed, like an otherworldly white lotus that one dared only admire from afar, never touch.

Yet under everyone's gaze, that white lotus today lost her usual aloofness and coolness, instead sprinting toward Yu Yanli like a blooming peony, flashing him an dazzlingly bright smile.

What broke hearts even more was that Yu Yanli, while on the phone, merely pointed at his mobile upon seeing her.

Wang Ou stood obediently beside him, her smile unchanged, eyes locked on Yu Yanli, radiating a docility no one on set had ever seen before.

"………"

Huang Bao tossed his smoked-out cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it under his foot— along with the hearts of countless others.

…

Finally ending the call, Yu Yanli noticed sweat on Wang Ou's forehead and gestured for her to wipe it.

Wang Ou took tissues from her bag, wiped her sweat, then noticed dust on Yu Yanli's clothes from the construction site and fetched fresh tissues to clean him.

She had served as his personal assistant for some time, attending to him by day and night, forming a habit.

Yu Yanli was slightly more composed, mainly because certain people's gazes were too intense, like thorns pricking his back.

"Cough, I'm on set."

"Oh."

Wang Ou felt a pang of disappointment; she didn't care how others saw her— she'd gladly play the role of boss's wife for a while.

The feeling of being the female lead on set was too intoxicating; having tasted it, she grew even more fervent and submissive toward Yu Yanli.

Though there was no physical intimacy between them, Wang Ou obediently trailed behind Yu Yanli, carrying his bag, handing him water— like a secretary, like a little wife— still drawing envy and resentment from many.

Yu Yanli could barely hold out, so he took Wang Ou away from the main set to visit another small crew.

This was also Wang Ou's primary filming location: a small hair-washing shop with an unimpressive storefront.

To be honest, Yu Yanli found it genuinely odd to see this low-end hair-washing shop alongside Wang Ou.

They were simply not on the same level!

Wang Ou explained the director had revised the script to make the plot more plausible.

The female lead didn't just work at this small shop— she had another job too, taking any job, big or small, to earn money to raise her child.

The shop's proprietor treated her kindly, so the female lead was willing to work there and became the top girl— sometimes she'd just wash hair and still get paid for "washing hair."

When Yu Yanli arrived, he happened to catch the scene where Huang Bao's character, Xue Liu's older brother Xue Wu, came to "wash his hair."

The actor playing Xue Wu was Song Wan from the CCTV version of *Water Margin*, tall and muscular, with a fierce yet innocent face.

Standing before the shop's entrance, he rubbed his bald head and grinned foolishly at the girl at the door.

"Sister, want a hair wash?"

The girl snorted teasingly: "Got long hair yet? Then wash it."

Xue Wu awkwardly patted his head and turned to leave, but the girl called him back and flashed him a sultry look.

"Come in."

Xue Wu's eyes lit up with delight, mixed with shyness and nervousness; he glanced around, then stepped inside.

"……"

Yu Yanli watched with keen interest— this scene was brilliantly executed; either the screenwriter or the actor had to be up to no good.

Seeing Yu Yanli so absorbed, Wang Ou leaned close to his ear and whispered a few words; Yu Yanli looked surprised.

"You really took them to observe?"

Wang Ou nodded; the crew sought authenticity, so for such a key plot location, they wouldn't cut corners.

It was said the proprietor originally wanted to hire a real madam to play the role, but the woman changed her mind and refused to come, so they switched to a professional actress.

Yu Yanli was genuinely curious about such hair-washing shops; he'd been to KTVs and nightclubs, but never to a place like this.

After filming wrapped, he specifically went inside to take a look— outside, it was no different from a normal hair salon, but inside there were extra rooms and beds; though it was a set, the environment was actually very clean.

Wang Ou followed behind him, watching his eager expression, and suddenly had an idea.

Seeing no one nearby, she stepped forward, hooked her finger around his belt, and whispered seductively.

"Brother, want a hair wash?"

Yu Yanli: "………"

This little vixen was getting increasingly flirtatious— there were still people outside the set, and she dared to hit on him.

"Fine."

But he certainly wouldn't wash his hair here— Yu Yanli took Wang Ou to a high-end hotel in the city.

Though the atmosphere wasn't as authentic as the hair-washing shop, it was cleaner and safer.

Wang Ou was as good as her word— she actually washed his hair.

Yu Yanli lay in the bathtub while she used the showerhead to rinse and massage his scalp.

Not only did she use her hands, but also her body— though her technique was average, she was diligent and meticulous, and Yu Yanli found it quite pleasant.

After washing his hair and bathing, Wang Ou added that she could also do foot massages.

Yu Yanli lay on the bed watching Wang Ou massage his feet; after a while, he grew impatient.

"Your technique's terrible. Let me teach you."

Yu Yanli got up from the bed, switched places with Wang Ou, grabbed her feet, and demonstrated each motion personally.

That night, Wang Ou mastered the Yu-style massage and improved dramatically…

…

Yu Yanli stayed in Song City for two days, then headed to Harbin in Heilongjiang Province.

The system triggered a message: Heilongjiang Satellite TV was interested in *Seven Fairies*.

Yu Yanli hadn't held out much hope; in his mind, TV stations in the three northeastern provinces favored period dramas, war stories, crime thrillers, historical series, and those with strong northeastern regional flavor.

For example, Zhao Ben Shan's *Liu Laogen* and *Ma Dashuai* series, after their CCTV premiere, were almost entirely rebroadcast by the three northeastern provincial stations.

But after actual contact, he realized he'd held some stereotypes.

Just as many didn't know, some more stylistically fresh TV dramas premiered first on Qilu TV in Shandong Province.

The three northeastern TV stations did have the traits he mentioned, but they also weren't lacking in the ambition to cater to younger audiences.

Though Yu Yanli had joined late, he quickly caught up.

Progress moved swiftly— he became the first satellite TV station to reach a joint-broadcast agreement with Shandong Satellite TV and *Seven Fairies*.

Had Shanghai and Tianjin not already made prior commitments and broken contracts been an issue, Yu Yanli, having tasted success, would have gone to Shenyang and Changchun…

————

PS: Ten-thousand-word update, requesting monthly votes

(End of Chapter)