Chapter 153: The Death of the Old Play Was Death; the Death of Today

Yu Yanli personally supervised the terrestrial channel release of "Detective Di Renjie" for over a month, but that didn't mean he did nothing else.

Due to the system, Yu Yanli mostly gave remote instructions and didn't expend much of his energy.

Thus, those brilliant distribution achievements were only a small part of Yu Yanli's work, even not his main task.

Besides overseeing the release of "Detective Di Renjie," Yu Yanli continued to follow up on the post-production of "The Seven Fairies," as well as the distribution of several other films and TV dramas.

At the same time, he was busy researching new projects, negotiating with Hai Run about "Sword of Valor," sneaking over to visit Qin Lan on the set of "The Song Dynasty Inspector," and handling various other miscellaneous tasks.

Yu Yanli had never known he could handle so much work.

He didn't know whether it was because his health was good, his energy growing stronger, or because his entrepreneurial passion had ignited, making him oblivious to fatigue.

Yu Yanli had talked with some other bosses and leaders.

Career is the best tonic for men; many who are over forty or fifty, if their careers are going well, become full of drive, their physical strength and spirit surpassing even the young.

Combined with his youth and strong recovery ability, Yu Yanli truly didn't feel overly tired.

Occasionally he felt irritable or exhausted, complained a bit, "slept" a bit, took a bath, slept again, and the next day carried on as usual.

But Yu Yanli wasn't without moments of slackness.

For example, when he returned home, ate meals cooked by his father, and listened to his mother's nagging, he would unconsciously become a bit "lazy," lounging at home without wanting to move.

Zao City, Bailou Village

After delaying for a while, Yu Yanli finally returned to his hometown to shoot "Railway Guerrillas," and on the way visited his parents—only to end up staying an extra two days at home.

"Dad, why don't you and Mom move to Beijing? I'll open a store for you—it'll earn way more than this."

This wasn't the first time Yu Yanli had urged his parents to move to Beijing, but the old couple hesitated, weighed down by many concerns, and never gave in.

"What about my mom?"

Old Yan started using the old lady as an excuse; Yu Yanli remained calm: "Bring her along—I'll take care of her in her old age."

"Your uncle and your little uncle won't agree. Besides, your mom and your grandma never got along—living together long-term would lead to fights."

In truth, Zhang Hong and Yu Yanli's grandmother got along well on the surface—whenever there was food or drink at home, Zhang Hong always sent a portion to the old lady, and never objected when Yu Yanli bought things for her.

But years ago, there had been some friction between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law.

The exact reasons were hard to say—just petty, trivial matters accumulated over time, compounded by their poverty back then; for several years during Yu Yanli's childhood, the two barely spoke.

Only after Old Yan and Zhang Hong opened a restaurant and built a new house to live separately, when their finances improved and conflicts vanished, did they slowly reconcile.

But the grudges remained—something Old Yan, as the son, and his wife knew best.

If mother and daughter-in-law lived together long-term, friction was inevitable.

Yu Yanli still had a solution: "Buy two houses—don't live together. You just cook extra meals or hire a nanny."

Old Yan glared at him: "You've got money to burn."

"Your mom's looking after your uncle's grandkids—she won't go to Beijing."

Zhang Hong added, seeing Yu Yanli still wanted to speak: "If you want me and your dad to move to Beijing, simple—have a grandson. Then shut down the store and come raise the kid."

Yu Yanli fell silent immediately, quietly pulled out his phone and fiddled with it aside.

He quieted down, but Zhang Hong didn't let him off: "When are you bringing that girlfriend you mentioned before to meet us?"

Yu Yanli didn't want to argue, replied offhandedly: "Can't meet—broken up."

"Broken up?!"

Zhang Hong's voice turned sharp; she'd bought the house, prepared the wedding red envelope, and was waiting to hold a grandchild—only for this little rascal to break up.

"Why did you break up?"

"Don't ask. I don't want to talk about it."

Yu Yanli wore an expression of wounded past he refused to revisit; Old Yan sipped his tea, spat out the tea leaves, and studied Yu Yanli.

"You didn't dump her just because you got rich, did you?"

Yu Yanli looked hurt: "Do you think your son is that kind of person?"

"Hard to say."

Old Yan gave a cold smirk.

As a parent who had frequently visited schools due to his son's early romances, he'd always distrusted his son's moral conduct.

Zhang Hong stood by her son: "Don't talk nonsense. If our son were that kind of unfaithful man, how could that girl have liked him so much? That kid from next village, Gao, even came to our shop during the New Year asking about him—clearly still has feelings."

Seeing old grievances being dug up and even his mother starting to play matchmaker, Yu Yanli quickly signaled to stop.

"Don't worry—I'm this handsome. You think I won't find someone? I'll find you another daughter-in-law in a while."

Zhang Hong thought it over—it was true that when Yu Yanli was in school, he'd already brought girls home; now that he was doing well, finding someone wasn't hard.

"I can't control who you date, but don't pick someone too old."

Hearing his mother's odd remark, Yu Yanli thought back to the earlier piece of information.

"Didn't I say? That Li Bingbing rumor was fake—don't go imagining things."

Ever since Zhang Hong saw some rumor linking Yu Yanli and Li Bingbing, she'd worried her son might date someone older.

A woman three years older is a golden brick.

The public generally accepts a woman two or three years older; five years is a bit much but manageable.

But Li Bingbing is seven years older than Yu Yanli—that's pushing it.

At least Zhang Hong couldn't accept it; by the time Yu Yanli is in his thirties, she'll be nearing forty—almost not from the same generation.

It was exaggerated, but the older generation thought that way; and in Zhang Hong's view, her son was handsome and rich—a hot commodity—he shouldn't be so "compromised."

Luckily Li Bingbing had no intelligence network; otherwise, knowing she was so despised behind her back by Yu Yanli's mother, she'd have come to settle accounts with him.

But it reminded Yu Yanli of something—his mother liked reading newspaper articles about him.

Before "The Seven Fairies" airs, if he and Fan Xiaopang stir up rumors to boost promotion, Zhang Hong will surely start imagining again.

Forget it.

Yu Yanli didn't take it seriously—let her imagine; when his "rumors" pile up, she'll stop paying attention.

…

The filming location of "Railway Guerrillas," as mentioned earlier, is a film city built and funded by Zao City, featuring a Republican-era style with many railway elements.

The film city is still under construction; only the first phase, sufficient for the crew's shooting needs, has been completed.

Yu Yanli's home is not far from this film city—about thirty kilometers, a thirty- to forty-minute drive, or up to an hour if taking back roads.

Thus, Yu Yanli didn't stay at the crew's hotel but lived at home; if shooting got busy, he'd rent a room temporarily.

"Director Wang, Teacher Zhao... thank you for your hard work."

When Yu Yanli arrived at the set, the crew was on break, so he went over to greet them.

In fact, the "Railway Guerrillas" crew had many people he knew.

Director Wang Xinmin directed Wu Jian's "The Knight-Errant" and Wu Yue's "The Legend of the Condor Heroes."

Chen Yongge, one of the directors of "The Seven Fairies," was poached from him, and now also directed "Railway Guerrillas," serving as Yi'an's representative on set.

In addition, Zhang Li from "The Seven Fairies," who played the Heavenly King, portrayed Deputy Captain Wang Qiang; old friend Peng Dan also appeared in a tragic female supporting role.

But Yu Yanli had almost no scenes with them.

Due to limited time and uncertainty about when he'd come to shoot, they'd deliberately assigned him a minor, relatively independent role.

Zhang Lan, deputy stationmaster of the train station—a spy pretending to work for the Japanese while secretly feeding intelligence to the Railway Guerrillas, eventually betrayed and murdered.

In the 1990s, actors like Liu Wei, Li Xuejian, Li Youbin, and Zhang Fengyi made a film called "Flying Tigers," based on the Railway Guerrillas story.

That film also featured a murdered stationmaster spy, portrayed by Wang Zhiwen in a cameo.

"Railway Guerrillas" borrowed this setup from "Flying Tigers," added details, and emphasized the difficulty of behind-enemy-lines work and the brutality of the Japanese.

This role posed no difficulty for Yu Yanli; only a few key scenes mattered.

Disliking the Japanese soldiers' harassment of his wife; reconnecting with guerrilla comrades and being persuaded by the political commissar to defect; making a crucial contribution in a key operation to help the guerrillas strike the Japanese; being betrayed and dying heroically.

The only thing Yu Yanli discussed with the director was whether he should speak his hometown dialect.

Other actors might not know this obscure dialect, and for the convenience of TV distribution, most spoke Mandarin, with only a few Shandong dialect phrases added.

Director Wang Xinmin was slightly tempted—dialect might be inconvenient but could enhance immersion.

After hearing Yu Yanli recite a few lines, he rejected it—felt it sounded too rustic, too noticeable in the drama, inconsistent with the reserved spy's character.

Yu Yanli didn't insist—he always respected the director's judgment, especially when the director's reasoning made sense.

Today there was no shooting; filming started tomorrow. Yu Yanli just tried on his makeup and observed the crew's other scenes.

"Railway Guerrillas" employed many veteran actors; lead male Zhao Hengxuan and lead female Shi Lanya had been in the industry for years; many supporting roles, though less famous, had extensive film or theater experience.

Thus, filming flowed smoothly, especially dialogue scenes—rarely did they need multiple takes, unless complex staging or coordination was needed; most scenes were done in one or two.

Of course, the crew also had newcomers, like Wang Qi, who played the second female lead Lan Ni, a 2002 student at the Military Art Academy still in college.

Wang Qi had a delicate, sweet, country-girl charm, perfectly suited for Lan Ni; Yu Yanli watched her two scenes and found her genuinely spirited.

He heard she hadn't signed with any company yet—just lacked a bit in appearance and aura; otherwise, Yu Yanli would have seriously considered signing her for Yi'an.

Sweet, lively, cute, and innocent—this type of artist had plenty of suitable roles; even if not the lead, second or third female roles were always available.

Among the rising young actresses, Hu Siyan barely counted as half; another was Li Xiaolu; the most promising was Shu Chang.

But Shu Chang was hard to sign—she was currently in high demand; ordinary resources couldn't sway her, and her personality and style didn't match Yu Yanli's expectations.

Yu Yanli had never worked with Li Xiaolu, but he did respect Hu Siyan's "ambition."

But Dong Xuan guarded her tightly, and Fan Xiaopang was on bad terms with her; signing her might disrupt team unity.

…

While Yu Yanli smoked and thought, Wang Qi, who played Lan Ni, noticed the young man who had been watching her earlier and quietly asked Shi Lanya.

"Sis, who's that guy? Just now you and the director all greeted him."

"I don't know him well. Heard he's an investor—runs a film company, I think."

Shi LanYa was an actor with the Beijing People's Art Theatre, had her own job, and only took roles when projects came to her; she wasn't well-versed in industry gossip or emerging powers.

Wang Qi, curious, went to ask another actress on the set.

The woman stared at her in surprise: "Aren't you studying in Beijing? You didn't show up for the open casting of 'Happy Days, Seven Fairies.'"

"I didn't go—I was swamped with classes, but now I know who he is."

Among young female actors in Beijing, 'Happy Days, Seven Fairies' was a highly influential production.

At the time, there were open auditions and online voting; they visited nearly every major arts academy, interviewed dozens of young female actors from Beijing, and even promoted some to lead roles.

Publicly, Hu SiYan, Jiang Xin, and Yang Xue all rose through open auditions; Li Lin and Dong Xuan also leveraged their online popularity.

In reality, Jiang Xin and Li Lin earned their roles through genuine looks and talent; Li Bing was invited by Yan Li; the other three were connections.

Though somewhat inflated, this illusion of "fairness and impartiality" was far superior to other productions, leaving a strong impression on many.

At first, Wang Qi didn't catch on, but after a slight hint, she immediately connected the dots.

"This is the big boss—see that Mercedes G-Class parked over there? He drove it here; worth over a million."

As they spoke, Yan Li walked over; the actress abandoned Wang Qi and rushed forward to greet him.

"Director Yan, hello, I'm Li Wa. I auditioned for your production of 'Happy Days, Seven Fairies' and played White Chrysanthemum."

Yan Li was used to such approaches, but hearing the actress had played White Chrysanthemum, he felt a flicker of interest.

He'd read the script—White Chrysanthemum was described as "the flower of Zao City, unrivaled in seduction," the most ruthless traitor-hunter in the drama.

She had slept with three traitor captains—and killed them all, outdoing even the elite fighters of the Railway Guerrillas.

But while this actress was indeed sultry, her looks and figure were average—nowhere near "the flower of Zao City." Yan Li, a native of Zao City, didn't buy it.

This might also be due to the role itself—beautiful actresses had more options and weren't likely to take such parts.

Watching Li Wa talk to Yan Li, Wang Qi hesitated, about to step forward and make herself known—when her phone rang. It was her boyfriend, Shen Teng.

After a moment's hesitation, Wang Qi glanced at Yan Li, then walked aside to take the call.

After dealing with Li Wa, Yan Li walked off, muttering to himself.

The spot where they'd been talking—was it a drafty corner? September still sweltered, yet a cold wind blew sharply down his back…

…

The next day, Yan Li came to set from home, bringing along Zhang Hong.

His mother had never seen filming before and was eager to watch her son act—she even closed her shop for a day to come along.

As luck would have it, his first scene was his death scene.

Listen: once it was called a "death scene," now it's a "sacrifice scene"—the value of death is instantly highlighted.

His mother watched beside him; Yan Li was more serious than ever.

When summoned by the Japanese officer, his eyes betrayed suspicion but he forced calm; seeing the traitor, he realized he'd been betrayed—feigning compliance while inwardly resolving to die for his cause.

"... 'll get you the intelligence right away."

Yan Li lowered his head, reached into his pant pocket, then looked up—his gaze calm and resolute—now holding a grenade the guerrillas had given him for self-defense.

The traitor reacted instantly, kicking the grenade away—it exploded, killing several Japanese soldiers outside.

Yan Li lunged at the traitor in hand-to-hand combat, but was overpowered and thrown to the ground; yet he struggled up, silent, and charged again, determined to die with him—until the Japanese officer shot him dead.

The original script called for two lines—something like "I'll fight you to the death!" or a loud scream.

Yan Li discussed it with the director and suggested removing the lines—a man who, sensing danger, immediately grabs a grenade to take everyone down with him doesn't need to speak.

At the same time, this silent, determined sacrifice added a deeper sense of tragedy.

The director agreed with Yan Li's view; they filmed it twice, compared, and ultimately decided silence was better.

After filming the scene, the next was the Japanese officer and traitor's confrontation; Yan Li went to change clothes and showed off to his mother.

"Mom, how was my performance?"

Zhang Hong pursed her lips, brushed the dust off where he'd fallen, then touched the fake blood wound on his chest.

"Did the gunshot hurt?"

Yan Li's head throbbed—he'd brought the wrong person. If he'd brought his father, the old man might now be waving the prop gun, wanting to fire two more shots just to hear the sound…

————

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

(End of Chapter)