Chapter 161: The Daily Lives of the Fairies and the Forbes Rich List

Beijing, a rehearsal hall

The Seven Fairies finished their afternoon rehearsal under the instructor's guidance, ready to rest, have dinner, then practice again.

Though they were affectionate when first reunited, and during variety show promotions they all got along harmoniously as sisterly friends, laughter and fun never ceased.

But once that phase passed, the seven of them split into smaller cliques in private.

Yet compared to the previous production, some small changes had occurred.

Dong Xuan, Jiang Xin, and Yang Xue remained a trio, but now had absorbed the previously neutral Li Lin.

Mainly because Li Lin was pregnant, being cautious, wanting to go with the flow and stay safe, and also fearing she might be replaced by Yan Li, so she cultivated closeness with Dong Xuan.

At the same time, because she was pregnant, she was considered a priority for care, and Yan Li specifically instructed Dong Xuan to look after her, to avoid accidents.

He had feelings; she returned them.

The trio becoming a quartet was unquestionably the largest faction within the Seven Fairies.

As for Shuang Bing, who refused to bow to Dong Xuan as leader and didn't want to be isolated, despite their public rivalry, they had recently formed a temporary alliance.

Both were popular and had formidable personalities; though only two of them, Dong Xuan's group still had to avoid their sharp edges.

The remaining one was Hu Siyan, who continued to be ostracized daily.

Dong Xuan led the ignoring, Shuang Bing looked down on her, so she had to play alone.

Honestly, if it weren't for the Spring Festival Gala, Hu Siyan would've fought these girls to the death.

They were treating her terribly!

But there was no choice—she couldn't fight back, so she had to endure it. Fortunately, it was only isolation, not outright targeting; if she kept a low profile, life was still bearable.

Yet because she endured it, Dong Xuan and the others, as well as Shuang Bing, all thought Hu was calculating and not to be trusted, and grew even more distant.

In short, if they disliked you, everything you did was wrong.

Even Yan Li thought Hu Siyan was a bit pitiful, so privately arranged extra promotional interviews for her, as a personal consolation.

As for speaking up or taking the lead—that was out of the question. As long as surface peace held, if he intervened, it would only add fuel to the fire, possibly sparking a full-scale Seven Fairies war.

"Sister Xuan, we're heading to CCTV for rehearsal soon. Do you think our program will make the cut?"

Jiang Xin was frantic—she'd turned down roles just to rehearse; if the program got cut, the loss would be enormous.

Jiang Xin wasn't the only one nervous; Li Lin and Yang Xue also cast glances, and even Shuang Bing paid attention.

Others might not have turned down roles, but squeezing out schedules wasn't easy, especially for popular stars like Shuang Bing—no one wanted to lose out on both sides.

"Relax."

Dong Xuan had spent the past few days playing "wise older sister," and now she expertly doled out reassurance.

"Don't worry—Yan Li has everything arranged. Our program is unique; it'll definitely make it."

This had worked a few days ago, but as rehearsal drew closer, pressure mounted, and Dong Xuan's hollow comfort grew increasingly ineffective.

Dong Xuan had no solution either—she truly wasn't cut out for leadership.

She could manage schoolkids from Beidian, but these young actresses, especially the few more popular and worldly than her, were beyond her ability to fool.

Shuang Bing exchanged a glance, hesitating whether to step in and smooth things over.

If morale sank too low and rehearsal suffered, affecting the CCTV rehearsal, they'd suffer too.

But if they stepped forward, would Dong Xuan grow wary and resentful, thinking they wanted to become the leader and seize control of the narrative? If they clashed with Dong Xuan's group, it would be worse.

Just as they were stuck between advancing and retreating, the rehearsal hall door opened and Yan Li entered, leading two men carrying a large foam box.

"Heh, almost late. Quick, I've got some tasty food for you—all hot."

Yan Li had the men place the foam box in the rehearsal hall's rest area, where steps and cushions allowed sitting—and eating.

Since they began rehearsing for the Spring Festival Gala here, Yan Li had visited once; this was his second appearance, met with enthusiastic welcome from the Seven Fairies.

"Boss Yan, why did you grow a beard?"

Yang Xue asked. Yan Li touched his thick, short beard: "I'm shooting a drama soon—the role requires it."

"Boss Yan with a beard looks really handsome—more masculine."

Hu Siyan smiled and complimented him.

She wasn't wrong—Yan Li's features were rugged and heroic; the beard, though less youthful and fresh, added mature charm.

Dong Xuan especially loved his beard, finding it sexually magnetic with male energy; she'd often sneak touches and nuzzles in private.

But Yan Li thought beards made him look older, were troublesome to maintain, and sometimes got complained about for being itchy and prickly during intimacy, so he planned to shave after filming.

Still, Hu Siyan's comment, though accurate, depended on who said it.

If anyone else had said it, it might've passed with laughter—but from her, it drew everyone's attention.

Dong Xuan narrowed her eyes slightly, expressionless; Fan Xiaopang and Li Bingbing watched with interest; Jiang Xin and Yang Xue frowned in surprise; Li Lin looked resigned.

Even Yan Li internally shook his head—no wonder you get punished; you always step right on the landmine.

"What's there to talk about with a beard? Just eat. I had people run to several restaurants to buy this."

Yan Li didn't want the Seven Fairies to fall into chaos, so quietly smoothed things over for Hu Siyan, handing out meals.

"This is for Jiang Xin. This is Li Lin's pregnancy meal—light and nutritious."

Yan Li first served the two special cases, then took a simple home-style food box and handed it to Dong Xuan; the rest could help themselves—eat whatever they liked.

"Wow, scallion-braised sea cucumber from Fengze Garden, roast duck from Chaoyangfang, seafood, and Cantonese roasted meats—Boss Yan, you're really generous!"

Yan Li waved his hand: "You've worked hard rehearsing—deserve a reward. If you want more, just say so—I'll arrange it later."

Fan Xiaopang, mid-bite into roast duck, raised her hand: "I want your braised pork."

At this, everyone except Dong Xuan perked up—last year, during the filming of "Joyful Seven Fairies," Yan Li's Lunar New Year cooking had left a deep impression.

So delicious, they'd tasted it only once, and since then, unable to get more, they'd unconsciously added filters to their memories, making the braised pork even more unforgettable.

During past variety show promotions, one time they discussed the most unforgettable moment from the set.

Everyone had their own stories, but when one mentioned Yan Li's braised pork, all agreed unanimously.

"Uh…"

Yan Li hadn't expected they'd still be thinking about this nearly a year later.

It proved you had to keep them wanting—the more you tease, the more they crave; if they're constantly satisfied, they won't value or long for it as much.

"Alright—work hard on rehearsal. Once we pass the rehearsal and confirm our spot on the Spring Festival Gala, I'll make a big pot of braised pork and divide it among you as New Year's gift."

"Great!"

Fan Xiaopang led the applause—now she'd not only feast herself, but bring some home for her family.

Only Jiang Xin stared longingly at Yan Li, who suddenly realized: "This time I won't mix in the forbidden ingredients—you can eat too."

"Thank you, Boss Yan! Boss Yan, you're the best!"

Jiang Xin jumped with joy—had Dong Xuan not been beside her, she'd have kissed Yan Li.

Last year, seeing but not eating, she'd been tortured—just now she'd even considered secretly asking Dong Xuan to save her a portion, yeah, to give to a friend.

As they ate, someone brought up concerns about whether the rehearsal would pass.

Yan Li, having been fed a sea cucumber by Dong Xuan, spoke confidently: "If our program's solid, rehearsal won't be a problem. Honestly—I've cleared all the channels. At most, our performance order or duration might be adjusted."

Yan Li's claim was exaggerated. Aside from a few, the Spring Festival Gala rehearsal was never easy to pass.

Even if he'd secured connections with the Gala director and some CCTV insiders, many other leaders were involved—and rejection remained possible.

But since morale was shaky, the reassurance had to be exaggerated to calm everyone and keep rehearsal going.

In truth, Yan Li's words differed little from Dong Xuan's—just slightly more detailed.

But again: the same words, depending on who says them.

Dong Xuan's were comfort; Yan Li's were guarantees. Everyone felt significantly more at ease.

After eating, Yan Li didn't leave—he watched the Seven Fairies rehearse.

Seven beautiful female stars danced gracefully before him. Though he'd seen them perform during filming, each replay still thrilled him.

…

By nearly nine p. ., rehearsal ended.

After all, they'd trained all day—couldn't push too hard, and tomorrow's rehearsal awaited; sometimes they didn't even rehearse at night.

After changing clothes, the Seven Fairies took turns massaging Yan Li's waist and back, groaning about exhaustion.

Yan Li knew well—they were tired, but not that badly. Dong Xuan always returned home fine; these girls were just pretending to suffer for his benefit.

"Enough. I'm not blind."

Yan Li knew dancing wasn't free: "If you're free tonight, I'll treat you to a bath and massage to relax."

He said it, but as Boss Yan was treating, why refuse? Even those with plans stayed.

The group arrived at a high-end Beijing club. Yan Li led in; the lobby manager hurried over, smiling brightly.

"Boss Yan, you're here! How shall we arrange tonight?"

Dong Xuan, arm-in-arm with Yang Xue, silently glanced at Yan Li.

The tone suggested he was a regular.

"Ahem."

Yan Li cleared his throat, gave a subtle look: "Some colleagues—tired from work. Arrange a private room for a soak, and female therapists for massage."

The manager understood, said nothing, hurried to arrange. Yan Li turned back to explain:

"When doing business, some clients like to relax—it's unavoidable. But this place is legitimate—no nonsense."

Fan Xiaopang raised an eyebrow: "So you're saying there are illegitimate places?"

"I don't go to illegitimate places. Even if I did, I'd behave properly."

Yan Li spoke with perfect confidence—he only flirted and stole a few touches, never lost his virtue; he was spotlessly clean.

Soon after, the lobby manager arranged everything. The group headed to the private room; Yan Li followed behind. Li Bingbing spotted something and reached out to stop him.

What are you doing?

Yan Li frowned in confusion: "I paid for this—can't I wash up?"

Dong Xuan couldn't hold it anymore: "Then wash yourself—why are you bothering us?"

"I'm just worried you're all women and might need help—I'm here to lend a hand."

Yan Li wore an expression of heartfelt concern, drawing countless side-eyes; Dong Xuan personally brought up the rear and drove him off with the brave Fan Xiaopang.

With no other choice, Yan Li washed alone, then booked a private room and called a male masseur to give him a massage.

Dong Xuan's still here—better not tempt fate.

Yan Li finished quickly; by the time he'd nearly finished his massage, the Seven Fairies had gradually returned to the room—some enjoyed female masseuses, some ate fruit platters while watching TV or magazines, others gathered to chat.

As they chatted, someone somehow brought up the newly released Forbes Celebrity Ranking.

The Forbes Celebrity Ranking was a brand-new list, targeting cultural and sports figures of 2004, ranked by influence, income, and other factors.

Of course, compared to influence or other metrics, everyone cared most about these celebrities', athletes', and writers' incomes.

The top earner on the list was Li Lianjie, with 140 million yuan; second was Big Yao, 120 million; third was Leon Lai, 66 million.

Some people here had made the list, like Li Bingbing and Fan Xiaopang.

The former, boosted by the hit film "Cell Phone," earned 8. million and cracked the top thirty; the latter, with numerous film contracts and endorsements, earned over 3. million, placing in the top hundred.

"This list is pure bullshit."

Fan Xiaopang got angry just hearing about it—yes, her per-film fee was tens of thousands, but how many films could she shoot in a year? Not to mention splitting profits with her agency—she hadn't earned nearly that much.

Li Bingbing was even more wronged—this year, she'd focused mainly on films.

Film pay caps were higher than TV drama rates, but as a newcomer, her fee was actually lower than what she'd make on TV.

"Cell Phone" made her famous and brought some commercial deals, but nothing near the rumored 9 million—so when the list came out, Li Bingbing was one of the most vocal stars, even publicly offering to let them audit her accounts.

Many other stars also questioned and criticized it!

Big Yao's agent denied it; Xue Cun, Ying Da, and Siqin Gaowa all said the figures were way off—even the usually low-key Ge Daye chimed in.

Yuchuan's reaction was especially fierce—they openly stated their reason for suing and revealed why so many stars were pushing back.

Tax audits!

Stars pay taxes based on their declared income, but if that doesn't match rumors, authorities will definitely investigate. Yuchuan had been audited twice already—who wouldn't panic?

Liu Xiaoqing's case last year was a harsh lesson to the entire entertainment industry—it's still a sensitive topic.

Also, the atmosphere hasn't opened up yet; most people still believe wealth shouldn't be shown off, especially after last spring's celebrity kidnapping case, which made the industry even more cautious and tight-lipped about income.

Besides, this list really isn't accurate—Li Bingbing and Fan Xiaopang prove that.

At this stage, the entertainment industry is relatively closed, many collaborations lack transparency, and there's no clear standard for artists' pre-tax/post-tax income or agency splits.

Forbes was doing its first domestic celebrity ranking—no experience, no reliable sources.

They were just poking around randomly, gathering rumors, then estimating based on commercial deals, film contracts, concerts, and wild guesses—how could it be reliable?

"Wait a minute—why isn't Boss Yan on here?"

Jiang Xin scratched her head: financially, Li Bingbing and Fan Xiaopang combined couldn't match Yan Li—why wasn't he on the list?

"It's a celebrity ranking—it only counts income from your field: film fees, concerts, ads, etc. Business operations and investments aren't included."

Yan Li counted on his fingers: "My total film fees for 2004 barely cover Li Bingbing and Xiao Fan's pocket money."

"This stupid list is just a sideshow—Boss Yan's future is on the billionaire list."

Li Bingbing chuckled and flattered him; Yan Li didn't humble himself: "Thanks for the good wishes—if I ever make it on, I'll give you a big red envelope."

Others laughed and joined in, but few took it seriously.

People who make that list are billionaires!

Yan Li himself took it seriously, silently calculating his chances of making it someday.

The 2004 Forbes Celebrity Ranking came out—and so did the Billionaire List.

The top spot went to the Rong family; second was Huang, boss of Guomei; third was Chen, boss of Shengda.

The last spot, 200th, was shared by several families, each worth about $79 million—roughly 650 million RMB at current exchange rates.

Yan Li, close to billionaire status, felt that with effort, he had a real chance of making it someday.

Set a goal: make it in three years; break into the top hundred in five to ten.

Top spot? Too far off.

He didn't have such grand ambitions—just quietly becoming a billionaire in the fifties would satisfy him…

(End of Chapter)