Chapter 146: Hahaha, Next Year I

June 2004 was an extremely busy month for Yan Li.

At the beginning of the month, "Water Moon Cave Heaven" premiered simultaneously on Sichuan and Guizhou TV, achieving a national average viewership rating exceeding 3% and peaking as the fourth most-watched program among its contemporaries.

Almost while the drama was still airing, both stations began independently preparing for reruns.

Especially Sichuan TV, which planned to rerun it at least three times during daytime, prime time, and secondary prime time slots in the summer break.

Aiming for a virus-squeezing rerun strategy!

Many stations rerun shows aggressively if ratings hold, but Sichuan TV was particularly notorious for it.

Other stations might rerun more frequently, but at least they rotated different dramas.

Sichuan TV, however, ran them back-to-back: finish one episode, immediately start over from the beginning, sometimes merging morning and afternoon slots into one continuous daytime block, broadcasting a single drama all day long.

Surprisingly, this broadcast method had advantages—viewers found it satisfying.

Especially students on holiday, who found one or two episodes insufficient, preferred watching this way; if the plot held their attention, they wouldn't change channels for the entire day.

Sichuan TV's extreme rerun schedule indirectly confirmed that "Water Moon Cave Heaven" was genuinely popular.

Although it didn't top the ratings, its core audience was young people and teenagers, sparking considerable online and offline discussion with high viewer loyalty.

As always, high single ratings didn't mean everything back then.

Continuous reruns and sustained discussion were the true indicators of a drama's success.

Media also joined in, though print outlets tended to criticize more than praise.

It had become almost standard: any drama loved by youth or teens, with fresh plotlines but poor costumes, makeup, or props, would inevitably be labeled a "Thunder Drama."

"Water Moon Cave Heaven" had a decent plot, but its costumes, makeup, and certain settings invited unconscious prejudice.

Compared to producer Zhou Yi, distributor Yan Li didn't care much about the controversy.

Controversy wasn't a problem—as long as it wasn't a dead-end trash film, more controversy meant more attention.

Some stations feared hot potatoes; others loved eating this hot tofu—it burned the mouth, but tasted amazing.

Shenzhen TV, newly launched on satellite, urgently needed ratings and visibility, so they reached out to Yan Li.

They secured one of the remaining first-run broadcast rights for "Water Moon Cave Heaven" at 280, 00 yuan per episode, totaling 8. million yuan.

With "Water Moon Cave Heaven" popular, prices could be raised, but since Sichuan and Guizhou had already aired it and controversy existed, stations could push back on pricing.

Selling high or low depended entirely on skill.

Shenzhen TV's price fell within Yan Li and Zhou Yi's acceptable range.

Especially since Shenzhen TV, flush with cash, promised to settle the full payment within three months—this instantly won over Yan Li and Zhou Yi.

Fast payment was a huge advantage; for that alone, Shenzhen TV could have offered under 8 million and still negotiated.

After selling three satellite stations, the remaining first-run broadcast slot became harder to sell.

If the price was too high, stations thought it wasn't worth it and preferred waiting for second-run.

If the price was too low, it would offend Sichuan, Guizhou, and Shenzhen—the three stations that paid high prices; Yan Li wouldn't be so shortsighted.

After "Conquest" sold three satellite stations, they waited a while before landing the fourth, thanks to strong ratings, low episode count, low price, and the SARS special period.

But for "Water Moon Cave Heaven," Yan Li called every station, subconsciously nudging the system daily, yet saw no signs.

Considering all stations were preparing for summer slots with heavy financial pressure, and after summer, second-run was just around the corner.

Zhou Yi still held out hope; Yan Li had already shifted the distribution focus to terrestrial channels.

So far, Yi'an had secured three contracts with terrestrial channels for over one million yuan each, with dozens more worth hundreds of thousands, totaling an estimated 6 to 8 million yuan in revenue.

The only regret was that DVD rights remained unresolved.

After TV broadcasts, people simply burned pirated copies; legitimate audiovisual companies lost interest.

But Zhou Yi didn't care—compared to other successes, DVD rights weren't important.

Zhou Yi's boss, Jiang Xue, was beaming.

Three satellite stations: 18 million plus 8. million—just first-run broadcast rights brought in 26. million; adding terrestrial channel revenue, total reached 32 to 34 million.

With Yi'an's distribution capability, second-run plus remaining terrestrial channels could push "Water Moon Cave Heaven"'s total earnings toward 40 million.

This was easily Zhou Yi's most profitable project since its founding.

So Zhou Yi did two things.

First, began preparing to shoot a sequel to "Water Moon Cave Heaven."

Second, signed a strategic partnership agreement with Yi'an: for five years, all Zhou Yi dramas would be distributed exclusively by Yi'an.

The first point needed no explanation—any company that scored a hit immediately planned a sequel.

Besides, Zhou Yi had already planned a sequel to "Water Moon Cave Heaven"; the script had been brewing since the first season began filming.

Rumors even claimed Zhou Yi originally intended to film both parts together—or as one long epic—but due to tight funding and excessive risk, they played it safe.

The latter was rare in the industry.

Film and TV collaborations were typically project-based: if one project went well, the next would follow; if problems arose, everyone parted ways.

Zhou Yi's strategic bundling showed deep satisfaction and trust in Yi'an's distribution ability.

But while Zhou Yi wanted strategic partnership, Yan Li hesitated.

He preferred single-project deals; binding directly to a company meant stable work but inevitably dragged in low-quality projects he'd have to handle.

Still, considering Zhou Yi's strength and the need to build reputation, Yan Li agreed to the partnership.

They held a small press conference; the formation of the "Double Yi Alliance" drew attention from many insiders.

But soon after, Yi'an dropped another bomb.

…

Late June: "The Seven Fairies of Joy and Happiness" held a press conference, announcing joint broadcast deals with Shandong, Shanghai, Tianjin, and Heilongjiang TV.

The drama sold at approximately 840, 00 yuan per episode, totaling 32 million yuan—breaking the current publicly known record for per-episode TV drama pricing.

It was unclear if any private contracts exceeded this price, but since none were made public, the record belonged to "The Seven Fairies of Joy and Happiness."

Too bad "Emperor Wu of Han" had already announced its price via CCTV sponsorship; otherwise, Yan Li could have marketed it as the highest-priced drama of 2004.

Yes, Yan Li held a grand press conference and publicly revealed the price purely for marketing.

The 32 million yuan contract was real, but the four stations had viewership requirements.

To meet those requirements, Yan Li gritted his teeth and chose to publicize the contract, generating buzz for the drama.

A 32 million yuan drama would attract massive attention to "The Seven Fairies of Joy and Happiness."

Whether praised or criticized, it would generate exposure and heat.

Moreover, a 32 million yuan contract alone drew industry-wide attention.

Coupled with the success of "Water Moon Cave Heaven," Yi'an's reputation in the circle grew louder; though newly founded, it already resembled a notable company, greatly benefiting its future.

Of course, while mostly business-driven, Yan Li had a personal motive too.

Young people—who doesn't want to shine?

Landing a project that made the industry stare and brought massive profit, he couldn't resist showing off.

At the same time, Yan Li wanted to slap some people's faces.

When "Conquest" exploded, he became a millionaire overnight; after media reports, many sneered, calling it dumb luck, predicting he'd squander it all and return to obscurity.

Yan Li wanted those people to see: even if it was dumb luck, he'd keep the luck going, getting richer and richer, driving them crazy.

He spoke boldly, but after the press conference, Yan Li vanished.

Not only did media struggle to find him for interviews, even friends inviting him to dinner were politely turned down.

It wasn't intentional modesty—he was busy with something and had no time for distractions.

Beiying Compound

Yan Li watched Dong Xuan packing his suitcase and asked again: "You're really not coming to Europe with me?"

Dong Xuan sighed: "I want to go, but it's my graduation play—if I bail, do you think I'll get to stay on campus?"

Yan Li sighed. Rarely getting to travel abroad, he'd have to bring only a bunch of rough men.

Dong Xuan was tied up with graduation; Wang Ou was filming "Survival: Migrant Workers"; Qin Lan joined "The Great Song Inspector."

Others weren't unavailable, but Yan Li was going to Europe for the Euros; he couldn't trust ordinary women, so he gave up.

"Alright."

Dong Xuan kissed him reassuringly: "Good thing I'm not going—you might meet a European hottie and have a passionate foreign romance."

"Pfft, I'm not into foreigners."

Whether teasing or testing, Yan Li's tone was firm.

Dong Xuan gave him a long look, didn't say whether she believed him, but right before his eyes, slipped two boxes of protection into his suitcase.

"What's this?"

Yan Li was annoyed: "You don't trust me."

"Just in case—I don't want a mixed-race kid showing up years later calling me Mom."

"Watch less soap operas."

Yan Li was speechless. Rather than worrying about mixed-race babies, he should worry about diseases—foreigners were wild; who knew what germs they carried?

Thinking of this, his earlier restless thoughts cooled somewhat.

He'd just made so much money, was still young, and had a bright future ahead—he wasn't going to risk it.

After packing, especially checking his passport and documents, Yan Li bid farewell to Dong Xuan, met up with Wu Maowen and several other companions/bodyguards, and headed to the airport.

The 2004 Euros were hosted in Portugal; no direct flights existed, so Yan Li had to fly to Madrid, Spain, first, then transfer.

Wu Maowen and the others had flown with Yan Li before, but this was their first time abroad—they were nervous.

Yan Li was calm, quietly sitting in the first-class lounge, calculating.

Officially, he was going to Portugal to watch the Euros; actually, he was going to bet on football.

Domestically, betting small amounts—tens or even hundreds of thousands—is acceptable, but anything more risks unnecessary trouble.

Since last year, Yan Li had begun researching how to place large overseas football bets and safely repatriate the winnings.

The intricacies involved were beyond ordinary people's grasp, but Yan Li had the System.

After thorough research via the System, Yan Li didn't just understand betting and repatriating funds—he also knew how to manipulate odds, act as bookmaker, and launder money.

Still, understanding was one thing; execution depended on himself.

Previously, Yan Li had placed bets through System channels in Europe and Hong Kong; this trip abroad was to collect and bring back the winnings.

It was possible to avoid showing up in person, but the cut taken by intermediaries was too steep.

Yan Li ran numerous analyses via the System and judged the risks to be manageable.

For safety, he avoided extreme maneuvers, placing many dummy bets—both to spread risk and to divert suspicion.

Even if someone traced all his bets, they could only conclude he was lucky, knowledgeable about football, and skilled at calculation.

Thus, Yan Li's profits weren't extraordinary—barely a few million euros at most.

It wasn't a small sum, but compared to the entire 2004 European Championship market, it was negligible.

The total legal betting on the entire European Championship reached roughly 3 to 5 billion euros; a single popular match could generate tens of millions, not counting underground markets.

Moreover, during the European Championship, tourists flooded everywhere; Yan Li blended in easily, and as long as he was careful during operations, no one would bother him.

Thinking of this, Yan Li's heart grew hot.

A few million euros equaled tens of millions in RMB; adding income from Yi'an and other sources, even after accounting for expenses and reserving funds for company growth, Yan Li could muster 50 million in cash to invest in next year's bull market.

Hahaha, by then, he'd be a genuine billionaire.

Snap~

Yan Li opened his eyes in annoyance to see a bright, pure-faced fox-like girl smiling at him teasingly.

"Which beauty are you daydreaming about, Yan Boss? Drool's practically dripping."

"What are you doing here?"

This was the international airport terminal; Fan Xiaopang was supposed to be filming "Xiao Yuer and Hua Wuque"—why was he abroad again?

"No choice—last year I released a Spanish photo book; sales were strong and fans loved it, so they're pushing for another. This year, my company sent me to Europe to shoot another set, then I'll join the cast."

Fan Xiaopang was smug—back then, only artists with some fame could release standalone photo books; otherwise, no fans would buy them.

An artist like Yan Li, who couldn't even rank as a third-tier star, might strip naked in a photo book and still get no attention.

"By the way, Yan Boss, why are you abroad?"

After gloating, Fan Xiaopang asked Yan Li, who replied with a hint of envy.

"I'm not as famous as Teacher Fan—constantly busy with work, never get to travel abroad. I'm just a idle guy, coming to watch some football and sightsee, wasting time."

Fan Xiaopang: "..."

She glanced at Yan Li silently, then turned and sat in a corner seat, leaned back, put on headphones, and hid her face behind a magazine to sleep.

Little brat, still trying to challenge me!

Come to think of it, while photo books proved an artist's popularity, true top stars rarely had time to travel abroad for them.

Take Li Bing, who starred in "Cell Phone"—his schedule was packed; he couldn't even squeeze out time to shoot a photo book abroad.

Fan Xiaopang was still sulking; she didn't speak to Yan Li even after boarding the plane. Yan Li didn't care—he pulled out his laptop and watched saved TV dramas and movies.

The flight from Beijing to Madrid took over ten hours; sleeping alone wouldn't pass the time.

Midway, Fan Xiaopang went to the restroom and passed Yan Li's seat, glancing at his screen.

Yan Li was watching Zhao Ben Shan's "Ma Dashuai," where Fan Wei played Fan Debiao, scratching his fist.

Fan Xiaopang felt a pang of longing—she'd brought books and an MP3, but nothing beat watching TV dramas.

Soon, she noticed Yan Li packing up his laptop, as if preparing to sleep; unable to resist, she approached to borrow it.

Yan Li replied succinctly: "Dead battery."

Fan Xiaopang frowned: "I just saw it was still half-charged."

"No."

"Yan Boss, don't be stingy."

Yan Li hesitated, noticing a flight attendant approaching; he handed her the laptop bag.

"The TV series is in the player. Don't browse anything else."

Fan Xiaopang thanked him, took the laptop, and after watching one episode of "Ma Dashuai," stretched lazily.

Glancing back, she saw Yan Li asleep. Her curiosity, stirred by his earlier remark, got the better of her—she opened "My Computer."

After some investigation, she found a hidden folder named "." containing videos, images, and documents. She hesitated for a long while, then opened a few.

"..."

Fan Xiaopang was stunned—she'd assumed it was something lewd or Yan Li's private secrets.

Instead, it was edited highlights of his roles, posters, stills, and screenshots of media or netizens praising him.

Secretly vain and self-obsessed!

She muttered an insult, closed the files, and reopened the player to continue watching "Ma Dashuai."

Yan Li slept until landing; Fan Xiaopang returned the laptop. He took it, put it away, and asked casually:

"Didn't snoop, did you?"

Fan Xiaopang shook her head. Yan Li didn't care—if the laptop had contained real secrets, he'd never have lent it to her even if she begged on her knees. Anything he gave was meant to be seen.

Outside the airport, each group met their own people.

Yan Li's team consisted of Wu Maowen and several young men; Fan Xiaopang's group included five people: herself, two men, and two women—two photographers, one executive agent and assistant, and one tour guide and translator.

Fan Xiaopang's group hailed a taxi; seeing Yan Li's group still standing, she asked if they wanted to join.

Honestly, in a foreign land, traveling with Yan Li's crew felt very safe.

"We have someone picking us up. They're here."

As she spoke, two minivans arrived. The Chinese tour guide Yan Li had arranged stepped forward, shook his hand, and confirmed the hotel was booked—they'd rest in Madrid tonight, then fly or drive to Portugal tomorrow.

Yan Li turned to invite Fan Xiaopang's group: "Join us?"

The agent hesitated, but Fan Xiaopang grabbed her suitcase and walked over.

Though she held various "prejudices" against Yan Li, they were at least friends; she trusted his character enough to believe he wouldn't sell them out.

(End of Chapter)