Chapter 146: Hahaha, Next Year I

June 2004 was an extremely busy month for Yan Li.

At the beginning of the month, "Shuiyue Dongtian" premiered simultaneously on Sichuan and Guizhou TV, achieving a national average viewership rating exceeding 3%, ranking fourth highest in its time slot.

Almost while the drama was still airing, both TV stations began 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 vacation.

They were going for a virus-squeezing rerun strategy!

Many TV stations reran shows heavily if ratings held up, but Sichuan TV was particularly notorious for it.

Other stations' reruns might be frequent, but at least they rotated different dramas.

Sichuan TV, however, ran them in an endless loop: finish one broadcast, immediately start over without pause, and sometimes merged morning and afternoon slots entirely, airing one drama nonstop all day.

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

Especially students on break, who found one or two episodes insufficient, loved 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 proved that "Shuiyue Dongtian" was genuinely popular.

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

As always, high single-viewership ratings didn't mean everything.

Continuous reruns and discussion volume were the Top Priority for judging whether a drama was truly popular.

The media joined in too, though compared to praise, print media tended more toward criticism and complaints.

It had become almost standard: any drama loved by youth or teenagers, with a novel plot but subpar costumes, makeup, or sets, would inevitably be labeled a "Thunder Drama."

"Shuiyue Dongtian" actually had decent plotlines, but its costumes, makeup, and certain settings unconsciously invited prejudice.

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

Controversy wasn't a problem—as long as it wasn't a dead-on-bad film, the more controversy, the more attention it drew.

Some TV stations feared hot potatoes, but 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.

In the end, they secured one of the remaining first-run broadcast rights for "Shuiyue Dongtian" at 280,000 yuan per episode, totaling 8.4 million yuan.

With "Shuiyue Dongtian" now popular, prices could be raised, but since two stations had already aired it and controversy existed, TV stations could also 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 the well-funded Shenzhen TV promised to settle the purchase payment within three months, instantly swaying Yan Li and Zhou Yi.

Fast payment was such a huge advantage that even if Shenzhen TV had offered under 8 million yuan, negotiation would still have been possible.

After selling three satellite TV rights, the remaining first-run broadcast slot became harder to negotiate.

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

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

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

But after Yan Li called around and constantly subconsciously pushed the system to trigger, there was no sign of progress.

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

Zhou Yi still held out a sliver of hope, but 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 several more worth hundreds of thousands confirmed or highly likely, bringing cumulative revenue to roughly 6 to 8 million yuan.

The only regret was that the DVD rights remained unsecured.

After TV broadcasts, people simply burned pirated copies, causing major interest drops from legitimate audiovisual companies.

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

Zhou Yi's boss, Jiang Xuerou, was beaming with joy.

Three satellite TV first-run rights: 18 million plus 8.4 million—just from first-run broadcast rights alone, they'd earned 26.4 million yuan; adding terrestrial channel revenue, total reached 32 to 34 million yuan.

With Yi'an's distribution capability, second-run plus remaining terrestrial channels could easily push "Huan Tian Xi Di"'s total revenue toward 40 million yuan.

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

So Zhou Yi did two things.

First, they began preparing to shoot a sequel to "Shuiyue Dongtian."

Second, they signed a strategic cooperation agreement with Yi'an: for the next five years, all of Zhou Yi's dramas would be distributed exclusively by Yi'an.

The former didn't need explanation—any company that scored a hit immediately wanted a sequel.

Moreover, Zhou Yi had already planned a sequel to "Shuiyue Dongtian"; the script had been brewing since the first season began filming.

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

The latter was uncommon in the industry.

Film and TV collaborations were typically project-by-project: if one worked well, the next project continued; if problems arose, everyone parted ways.

Zhou Yi's move toward this strategic binding partnership clearly showed their satisfaction and trust in Yi'an's distribution capabilities.

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

He still preferred project-by-project deals; binding directly with a company, though offering stable business, inevitably meant handling low-quality projects too.

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

They held a small press conference; the founding of the "Shuang Yi Alliance" brought Yi'an Film & TV into the eyes of many interested parties.

But not long after, Yi'an Film & TV dropped another bomb.

…

In late June, "Huan Tian Xi Di Qi Nüxian" held a press conference, announcing a joint broadcast deal with Shandong, Shanghai, Tianjin, and Heilongjiang TV stations.

The drama set a new record for publicly known single-episode pricing at approximately 840,000 yuan per episode, totaling 32 million yuan.

It was unclear whether any private contract had surpassed this price, but since no such deal had been made public, the record belonged to "Huan Tian Xi Di Qi Nüxian."

Unfortunately, "Emperor Wu of Han" had already announced its price due to CCTV's sponsorship, so Yan Li couldn't market it as the highest-priced TV drama of 2004.

Correct—Yan Li's grand launch event and public disclosure of the drama's price were purely for marketing.

The 32-million-yuan contract isn't fake, but several satellite channels have ratings requirements.

To meet the contract terms, Yan Li gritted his teeth and stomped his foot, deciding to publicly reveal the contract to generate buzz for the drama.

A 32-million-yuan drama would draw massive attention to "Huan Tian Xi Di Seven Fairies."

Whether praised or criticized, it would bring exposure and heat to the drama.

Moreover, a 32-million-yuan contract alone was enough to draw industry attention.

Coupled with the success of the "Shui Yue Dong Tian" project, Yi An's reputation in the industry grew louder; though newly established, it already had the aura of a notable company, greatly benefiting Yi An's future development.

Of course, though mostly driven by business considerations, Yan Li also had a personal motive.

Young people—who doesn't want to stand out?

Landing a project that draws industry attention and promises huge profits, he couldn't help but want to show off.

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

When "Conquest" went viral, he suddenly became a millionaire; after the reports came out, many sneered, calling it dumb luck and predicting he'd squander it all and settle down.

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

He talked big, but after the launch event, Yan Li "disappeared."

Not only could some media not find him for interviews, even friends inviting him to dinner were politely turned down.

It wasn't intentional—he was busy with something and had no time to deal with these things.

Beijing Film Studio Compound

Yan Li watched Dong Xuan packing his suitcase and asked again: "You really won't come 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 still get to stay on campus?"

Yan Li sighed. He rarely got to travel abroad, and now he'd only be taking a bunch of rough men.

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

Others weren't unavailable, but Yan Li was going abroad for the Euros—ordinary women couldn't be trusted, so he gave up.

"Alright."

Dong Xuan kissed Yan Li reassuringly: "Since I'm not going, maybe you'll meet a European hottie and have a unforgettable foreign romance."

"Pfft, I'm not into foreign devils."

Whether Dong Xuan was teasing or testing him, 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, she slipped two boxes of Safety Equipment into his suitcase.

"What's this mean?"

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

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

"Watch less soap operas."

Yan Li was speechless. Rather than worrying about mixed-race kids, he should worry about catching something—foreigners are wild; who knows what diseases they might carry?

Thinking of this, Yan Li's earlier restlessness cooled somewhat.

He'd just made so much money, was still young, and had a bright future ahead—he didn't want to die foolishly.

After packing his bags and double-checking his passport and other items, Yan Li bid farewell to Dong Xuan, met up with Wu Maowen and the other attendants/bodyguards, and headed for the airport.

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

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

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

This trip was nominally to Portugal to watch the Euros, but in reality, it was to bet on football.

In China, betting tens or hundreds of thousands was manageable, but larger sums attracted unwanted trouble.

Since last year, Yan Li had been researching how to bet large sums overseas and safely bring the money back.

There were many tricks involved—most people couldn't figure them out—but Yan Li had the System.

Through the System's research, he didn't just understand betting and repatriating funds—he also knew a lot about market manipulation, running bookmaking operations, and money laundering.

But knowing was one thing; executing was another.

Previously, Yan Li had placed bets in Europe and Xiangjiang through the System's channels; this trip was to finalize the payouts and bring the money home.

You could avoid showing up in person, but the cut taken by intermediaries was too steep.

After extensive analysis via the System, Yan Li judged the risk as manageable.

For safety, he avoided reckless moves, placing many dummy bets—both to spread risk and to mask his true activity.

Even if someone traced all his bets, they'd only conclude he was lucky, knew football well, and was good at calculations.

So Yan Li's profits weren't outrageous—maximum a few million euros.

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

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

Plus, during the Euros, tourists flooded everywhere; as long as Yan Li 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; combined with Yi An's other earnings, even after expenses and reserving funds for company growth, Yan Li could gather 50 million RMB in cash to invest in next year's bull market.

Hahaha, then he'd truly be a billionaire.

Plop~

Yan Li opened his eyes angrily to see a bright, pure fox-like face smiling at him teasingly.

"Mr. Yan, daydreaming about which beauty? Drool's practically dripping out."

"What are you doing here?"

This was the waiting lounge for an international flight; Fan Xiaopang was supposed to be joining the cast of "Little Fish and Flowerless Defect," so why was he traveling abroad again?

"No choice—last year I released a photo book in Spain; sales were good, fans gave high praise, and they're pushing for another. This year, my company arranged for me to go to Europe to shoot another set, then I'll join the cast."

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

Artists like Yan Li, who couldn't even make it onto the third tier, wouldn't get a single glance even if they stripped naked for the photos.

"By the way, what are you doing abroad, Boss Yan?"

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

"I'm not as famous as Teacher Fan—you're swamped with work and still manage to travel abroad on business. I'm just a idle guy, traveling overseas to watch some soccer, sightsee, and waste time."

Fan Xiaopang: "..."

She silently stared at Yan Li for two seconds, then turned and sat down in a corner seat, leaning back, putting on headphones, and covering her face with a magazine to sleep.

Little jerk, trying to challenge me!

Speaking of which, while photo books do prove an artist's popularity, true top stars probably don't even have time to fly abroad for them.

After all, Li Bingbing, who starred in "The Mobile," has his schedule packed solid—he can't even squeeze out time to fly overseas for a photo shoot.

Fan Xiaopang was still annoyed; she didn't speak to Yan Li the entire flight. Yan Li didn't care—he pulled out his laptop and watched saved TV shows and movies.

The flight from Jingcheng 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's character, Fan Debiao, was flexing his fists.

Fan Xiaopang felt a twinge of curiosity; she'd brought a book and an MP3, but nothing beat watching TV dramas.

Soon after, she noticed Yan Li putting away his laptop, as if preparing to sleep, and couldn't resist approaching to borrow it.

Yan Li replied succinctly: "Out of battery."

Fan Xiaopang frowned: "I just saw it still had more than half left."

"No."

"Boss Yan, don't be stingy."

Yan Li hesitated, noticing the flight attendant approaching, then handed her the laptop case.

"The TV shows are in the player. Don't browse anything else."

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

She turned to check—Yan Li seemed asleep. Her curiosity, stirred by his earlier remark, got the better of her; she clicked open "My Computer."

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

"..."

Fan Xiaopang was stunned; she'd assumed they were inappropriate content or Yan Li's personal secrets.

Instead, they were highlight clips of Yan Li's roles, posters, stills from dramas, and screenshots of media or netizens praising him.

Secretly vain and self-obsessed!

She muttered the insult, closed the folder, and reopened the player to keep watching "Ma Dashuai."

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

"Didn't snoop around, did you?"

Fan Xiaopang shook her head. Yan Li didn't care—if the laptop had real secrets or privacy, he'd never have lent it to her even if she begged on her knees. Anything he'd given her, he wasn't afraid for her to see.

Outside the airport, each group met their own people.

Yan Li's side had Wu Maowen and several young men; Fan Xiaopang's group consisted of 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 took a taxi. Seeing Yan Li's group still standing there, she asked if they wanted to join.

How to put it—in a foreign land, traveling with Yan Li's group felt very safe.

"We've got someone picking us up. They're here."

As if on cue, two minivans arrived. The Chinese tour guide Yan Li had arranged stepped forward to shake his hand, confirming the hotel was booked—they'd rest in Madrid for one night, then fly or drive to Portugal the next day.

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

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

Though she held all kinds of "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)