Chapter 162: Still Explosive with Information: This Year

The biggest film of 2005's opening was Kung Fu Hustle, which had just been released at the end of last year.

In just four days, it surpassed 70 million yuan in box office, soon broke one hundred million, and outperformed Heaven and Earth, aiming for the 2004 box office champion.

Besides its strong performance on the mainland, Kung Fu Hustle was even more notable for its excellent box office in other regions.

In Taiwan, after nine days of release, its box office broke 100 million New Taiwan Dollars, setting a new record for the fastest billion-dollar gross in Taiwan, equivalent to about 25 million RMB.

In Xiangjiang, box office is expected to surpass 60 million Hong Kong Dollars, making it the second Xiangjiang film after Shaolin Soccer to reach over 60 million.

Box office in North America and Japan is also expected to break ten million U. S. dollars, with over a dozen countries projected to reach over one million in box office.

Although it may not match the achievements of Hero from the past two years, it still marks a small milestone for Chinese-language cinema.

Zhou Xingchi, the lead actor and director, was elevated to godlike status.

Many supporting actors in the film, such as the Landlord, the Landlady, the Fire Cloud Evil God, and the Axe Gang boss, saw their fame skyrocket.

Huang Shengyi, the newly minted Star Girl, became an overnight sensation for her pure and devoted mute role, becoming countless people's dream goddess.

Even Yan Li, who had sneaked in to watch Kung Fu Hustle, was stunned by Huang Shengyi.

I have to admit, Zhou Xingchi really knows how to film; he and his junior sister had slept together many times, and for the first time, he realized how beautiful she was.

Yan Li even felt a tiny bit of regret—he should have waited until after the film's release to break up; he wanted to buy the mute girl a lollipop.

But regret came too late—Huang Shengyi's fame exploded; one film had already quietly placed her among the hottest rising stars, with powerful backers behind her and a brilliant future ahead.

Of course, with Yan Li's current wealth and status, winning her back wouldn't be difficult—but it wasn't necessary.

A little regret was better; if he had won her back, it might not have been so beautiful.

Compared to Huang Shengyi, Yan Li valued more the success of Heaven and Earth and Kung Fu Hustle, and their promotion and development of the film industry and the entire entertainment sector.

Since the mainland film market took shape, only five Chinese-language films had ever broken one hundred million yuan in box office.

In 2000, Life and Death Decision had many organizations and factories buying out screenings; strictly speaking, it wasn't a true commercial billion.

Then came two films by Lao Mouzi: Hero in 2002 and House of Flying Daggers in the summer of 2004, followed by Kung Fu Hustle and Heaven and Earth in the New Year's season.

Of these five Chinese-language films, three came from 2004 alone, proving the film market was growing year by year.

Breaking one hundred million was no longer a rare phenomenon requiring perfect timing, location, and luck—it was gradually becoming normal.

The significance of this for the film market needs no elaboration!

With the powerful influence of the entertainment industry, many wealthy individuals were turning their attention toward film and the broader entertainment sector.

This was good news for Yan Li—the more wealthy people there were, the easier it was to attract investment.

Not only for project funding, but also for investments in other areas, his proposals gained greater credibility.

For example… cinema chains.

Last year's Annual Intelligence mentioned Wanda's cinema chain layout; perhaps Yan Li had done some private research, and this year's Annual Intelligence System triggered related intelligence again.

【Annual Intelligence 1: A 20-Year Retrospective Study Report on China's Cinema Chain Reform………】

Honestly, if the Film Bureau saw this report, they'd be laughing themselves stupid.

Yan Li wasn't much better—he covered his face and laughed for nearly ten full minutes.

This report, combined with last year's Wanda intelligence, was enough for Yan Li to roughly understand the development of China's cinema chain market over the next twenty years.

Even a stupid pig, given the chance, could climb to a senior position in a cinema chain—minimum, a senior advisor.

For Yan Li, who had ability and ambition, it was like adding wings to a tiger.

Yan Li, who had already considered entering the cinema chain business, further solidified his resolve.

But investing in cinema chains wasn't ordinary business—Yan Li couldn't handle it alone; he needed investors to join him.

So now, Yan Li hoped more than anyone else for the prosperity of the film market—the more prosperous it became, the easier it would be to convince investors to pour in heavy capital and build cinema chains.

Besides cinema chains, another Annual Intelligence triggered a new idea for Yan Li.

【Annual Intelligence 2: How Lightbox Media Rose from "Surviving in the Cracks" to Become the Top Stock in the 2020 Entertainment Industry………】

Lightbox Media—he'd heard of it.

But he thought they were a variety show producer, like China Entertainment Report and Music Wind Chart; the cast of Happy Heaven Seven Fairies had once appeared on one of their programs—he never expected they'd later transform so successfully into film.

After carefully studying Lightbox's development, Yan Li discovered some "new continents."

Yan Li had considered entering cinema chains because he believed the current film market was too small, making film production risky.

Cinema chains, as the end point, were guaranteed income—far less risky than film production; though short-term losses were inevitable due to the overall market, the long-term prospects were limitless.

But Yan Li wasn't Wanda—they had a mature business layout; he could at best grab a share, and couldn't realistically compete with Wanda.

Lightbox's emergence opened a new path for Yan Li: besides cinema chains, he could also start from distribution.

Many companies had begun with film distribution—there were many examples in Hollywood and Xiangjiang, and even on the mainland, there was Bona.

Bona's boss, Fatty Yu, had once been deputy head of the distribution department at Beijing Film Studio, traveling nationwide with film reels on his back; later he went into business, and Bona became the first company to receive a film distribution license.

Afterward, Fatty Yu partnered with Xiangjiang, bringing Xiangjiang films to the mainland for distribution; leveraging his years of industry connections, he built Bona into a major force.

Yan Li had built his foundation in television drama through distribution—he couldn't have overlooked film distribution.

But film distribution and television drama distribution were two entirely different industries.

For television drama distribution, often you just sold the series to a TV station and then had nothing more to do.

Film distribution required close cooperation with both upstream producers and downstream cinema chains, plus managing publicity and engaging directly with audiences.

Especially that last part—one makes viewers turn on their TV sets, the other makes them walk into movie theaters and pay real money for tickets.

The difficulty and complexity were unimaginable!

Yan Li admitted he had limited connections in the film circle—film distribution wasn't a field he could easily enter.

But Lightbox's distribution approach showed Yan Li a path different from traditional distribution.

According to the intelligence, when Lightbox first transitioned into film, it had little film industry network—but it fully leveraged its strengths—

The rich distribution networks and integrated marketing resources accumulated from producing TV programs.

TV stations, online platforms, and other channels gave Lightbox powerful promotional capabilities, easily crushing traditional film distribution companies.

At the same time, Light Entertainment implemented a ground-level distribution strategy.

The current cinema market had not yet formed an effective management model, the internet was underdeveloped, and movie theaters retained considerable autonomy in scheduling.

At the time, Light Entertainment established the nation's only on-site distribution system, with staff in seventy cities following up daily on theater schedules, greatly improving efficiency.

Combined with Light Entertainment's own media resources, this could boost box office revenue by 30% at relatively low cost.

Yan Li felt that while he could not copy Light Entertainment's distribution method exactly, he could imitate parts of it.

He also had television distribution networks and media resources; ground promotion might not be as efficient as Light Entertainment's years of event experience, but it was worth trying.

More importantly, he had participated in laying out the cinema network and held control over certain terminal markets, giving him advantages in some areas over Light Entertainment.

Yan Li thought he might give it a try.

The advantage of film distribution was its relatively low risk; by controlling the channels, he could calmly move upstream into film production when needed, which was highly beneficial for medium- and long-term development.

Meanwhile, Light Entertainment's preference for small investments and its skill in achieving outsized returns with minimal capital were worth learning from.

Big-budget films carried high risk, but investing in suitable low-cost projects was worthwhile—profit brought joy, loss brought little pain, and it served as accumulated experience.

As for later online internet distribution and similar methods, they were still too distant; Yan Li noted them mentally but did not consider them for now.

In short, an analysis of a successful future entertainment giant's development held extraordinary significance for Yan Li; drawing even a little from it might play a key role in Yi'an's growth.

…

Of the above two, the annual intelligence reports held the greatest yearly value; the rest also offered some benefit, however slight.

【Annual Intelligence 4: Wang Qi waited twelve years before finally marrying a 20-billion-yuan movie star, while Shen Teng had his own "unresolved regret"…】

Wang Qi?

When Yan Li first saw this intelligence, he was stunned; it took him a while to recall that this Wang Qi was Lan Ni, the female second lead in *Railway Guerrillas*.

He never expected that a few brief encounters could yield such a major revelation about him.

A 20-billion-yuan movie star!

Hmm, Yan Li thought of how Liu Tianwang's two billion-yuan films this year were already being hyped to the heavens by the media—how much the world had changed in just over a decade.

Unfortunately, this intelligence focused mostly on the entanglements between Shen Teng, Ma Li, and Wang Qi; beyond Shen Teng and key points involving Happy Mahua, the information was limited.

【Annual Intelligence 6: Qin Lan's personal resume up to 2024…】

Yan Li read this intelligence very carefully.

What surprised him, yet didn't fully surprise him, was that Qin Lan's career development had indeed been mediocre.

She barely made it to second-tier status early on; only after her comeback via *The Legend of Zhen Huan* did she begin pursuing the so-called "domineering lady" image and finally rise to prominence.

Compared to her career, Yan Li cared more about other matters and remembered certain people.

【Annual Intelligence 8: Reviewing the various impacts of the 2008 financial crisis…】

Yan Li was somewhat surprised to see this intelligence, because logically this year should have appeared in the monthly reports.

Its appearance in the annual intelligence indicated that the financial crisis had indeed had massive consequences.

After skimming it, Yan Li judged it still useful; at least with this reminder, he would pay closer attention when planning cinema layouts and other investments.

He didn't want to overextend himself or invest in dangerous projects and suffer a major setback.

A financial crisis of this scale, if it caused him to stumble, could trigger a chain reaction—serious damage, even bankruptcy, was not impossible.

【Annual Intelligence 10: When did the Spring Festival Gala transform from being universally anticipated to being despised by all…】

No way, has the Spring Festival Gala become obsolete?

Yan Li skimmed through it and felt relieved—the Gala had begun its decline from its peak, but not yet; it would take a few more years.

As long as it didn't interfere with *The Seven Fairies*' promotion, he didn't care whether the Gala was obsolete or not—he wasn't a CCTV executive, so it wasn't his concern.

…

Each new 【Annual Intelligence】 always took Yan Li a while to digest, after which he adjusted his business strategy to varying degrees.

While Yan Li was in "semi-seclusion," *Emperor Wu of Han* finally aired on CCTV.

As soon as the drama premiered, its refined and grand production immediately made it the most popular TV series in January, with ratings climbing steadily and dominating the entire New Year slot.

Yan Li's friends all offered support, turning on their TVs to catch a glimpse of Boss Yan's performance.

Then they discovered… where was he?!

Yan Li was speechless—a bunch of history illiterates; Han Wu Di was still in his youth, seizing power, Wei Qing hadn't risen yet, so where was Huo Qubing's role?

His scenes didn't appear until after episode 40; by the time they aired, it would be nearly February.

Likewise, in *Huan Tian Xi Di Seven Fairies*, his appearance came late—he didn't make his first appearance until nearly episode 20; those wanting to cheer him on would need patience.

Still, with two upcoming TV dramas he was starring in, both featuring standout roles, Yan Li still held some expectations.

Perhaps after these two dramas aired, he could even earn the title of "rising young star."

The media always called him "XXX producer," always using titles like "Big Hu Zi Zhang" and others—it made him sound old.

Yan Li had only just turned 24; he still preferred being called a "rising young star"—it sounded better.

In mid-January, considering his schedule would soon become busy, Yan Li discussed with the *Light Sword* crew and secured a small portion of the month's availability, entering the set early.

Since Sun Desheng's role had little screen time, the crew accommodated him, allowing Yan Li to wrap up quickly and focus on his own affairs.

The *Light Sword* crew's filming location was a rural village, with earthen walls and dirt roads, reflecting the era's style.

Upon entering the set, Yan Li was immediately taken by the makeup artist to finalize his look.

The costume was simple: a worn-out Eighth Route Army uniform, his head shaved to a buzzcut, his face darkened slightly, and his beard trimmed.

After the transformation, Yan Li looked in the mirror, searching for the character's essence.

Then Director Chen Jian of *Light Sword* saw a determined, fierce-eyed, rough-and-tumble Eighth Route Army company commander.

To be honest, Chen Jian had initially been dissatisfied with Yan Li playing the role of Sun Desheng.

Although the character had little screen time, he was one of the pivotal figures embodying the "Light Sword Spirit," one of the 【dramatic cores】.

If such a role were ruined by an amateur investor, it would be a terrible waste.

But upon seeing Yan Li's costume and demeanor, he knew the other had thoroughly studied the role—even read the entire script—otherwise he wouldn't have grasped the character's essence the moment he joined the set.

Unlike typical main-theme dramas, the soldiers of the Independent Regiment in "Bright Sword" carried wildness and ferocity; as the script put it, they were a pack of howling wolves.

Sun Desheng valued honor, led every battle, dared to argue with the regimental commander over combat, and among this pack of wolves, he was one of the fiercest.

Chen Jian had actually watched Yan Li's previous dramas—he nailed the role of Wu Tian in "Conquest."

But he feared this might just be typecasting, or that Yan Li could act but wasn't taking it seriously; now, seeing this, he'd eased half his worries.

If you grasp the character's essence, you can't act too badly!

Yan Li had just arrived; today was only costume fitting, no scenes—so he wandered around the set.

He didn't know anyone on the "Bright Sword" set.

The leads—Li Youbin (Li Yunlong), He Zhengjun (Zhao Gang), Zhang Beiguang (Chu Yunfei)—he knew by name, but had never interacted with them.

As for Tong Lei, who played Tian Yu, she hadn't joined yet; they had no scenes together, and likely wouldn't meet.

This spared him some awkwardness!

He even felt a bit guilty toward Sun Desheng—later, because of the scenes with Yuwen Chengdu and Li Rongrong, viewers might mock him alongside Tian Yu.

Thinking of this, Yan Li almost regretted it: he should've found a way to replace Tong Lei; Qin Lan or Dong Xuan would've been perfect for Tian Yu.

No—that would've backfired too: someday, if his relationship with Qin or Dong got exposed, people would still mock him; he couldn't escape the "sleeping with his sister-in-law" gag.

Yan Li had no good solution—he could only strive to portray Sun Desheng well, and try to make people ignore the off-screen factors.

Afterward, Yan Li didn't wander aimlessly; he pulled Lin Jiachuan back to the room to rehearse.

Lin Jiachuan no longer served as Yan Li's assistant full-time—he focused on acting—but when he had no scenes, he still liked to stay by Yan Li's side to stay visible.

He'd just finished shooting a drama when Yan Li pulled him onto the "Bright Sword" set to help out.

As an assistant, Lin Jiachuan wasn't particularly skilled.

But he had one ability no other assistant had: he was classically trained, knew how to rehearse scenes, and had been Yan Li's classmate for two years, practicing daily—they had strong chemistry.

That was why Yan Li brought him to the "Bright Sword" set: privately, he could help him rehearse and prepare.

The next day, Yan Li began filming: morning scenes involved requesting battle from Li Yunlong; afternoon scenes involved observing cavalry training with Li Yunlong and Zhao Gang.

On the third day, they filmed miscellaneous personal scenes; his remaining scenes were the encirclement of the Yamazaki Battalion, the cavalry battle, and some group scenes.

The encirclement of the Yamazaki Battalion was a large group scene, to be filmed together in a few days—Sun Desheng and Monk Wei would fight side by side, report casualties, etc.

The cavalry scenes were standalone, so they could be shot directly.

…

The Spring Festival was in early February this year; now, it was already the bitter cold of the twelfth lunar month.

On the flatlands outside Hebei Province, the wind howled, water froze instantly, and the thin costumes offered little warmth—riding at full gallop was excruciating.

First filmed was the chase scene: the cavalry regiment was spotted by the Japanese cavalry regiment during their counter-sweep.

To cover the main force's retreat, the cavalry regiment decided to hold off the Japanese cavalry.

After prolonged pursuit and evasion, the cavalry ran out of bullets; men and horses reached their physical limits; the main force successfully withdrew—Sun Desheng decided to lead the remaining cavalry in a final, suicidal charge.

Cold wind, open wilderness.

Yan Li, as Sun Desheng, stood with over ten Eighth Route Army soldiers in a single line; across from them, the Japanese cavalry outnumbered them dozens to one.

The Japanese officer, realizing the cavalry's intent, moved by Sun Desheng's courage and ferocity, ordered his men to engage in hand-to-hand combat.

The wind howled; only the pounding of hooves and heavy breaths echoed—Yan Li ordered his men to drop their guns and draw their sabers.

No emotional speeches, no slogans—Yan Li raised his saber with one arm and roared.

"Cavalry Regiment, follow my order: attack the enemy!"

"Charge!"

"Kill!"

Yan Li led the charge; the other cavalrymen shouted as they spurred their horses and swung their blades toward the enemy lines.

"Ji Qi Gei (Attack)!"

The Japanese cavalry, under their commander's order, charged forward.

The two sides crashed together—hooves thundered, sabers swung, roars of battle echoed across the wasteland; men fell continuously, blood staining uniforms and blades.

Though the TV episode lasted only minutes, filming took the entire morning.

Afterwards, the director's team ordered both sides to separate; the Japanese side stood by, while Yan Li and his men were constantly retouched with makeup.

When filming resumed, Yan Li's side had only five men left—all faces streaked with blood, eyes blazing with hatred at the enemy.

Besides Yan Li, the other four weren't professional actors—they were extras and crew members recruited on the spot.

No one told them how to act; they were fully immersed, instinctively staring at the Japanese soldiers across from them.

Yan Li gasped heavily, his single-arm grip on the saber trembling—whether from exhaustion or cold, he couldn't tell—his eyes locked on the enemy.

He removed his cap, wiped the enemy's blood from his saber, and slammed it hard onto the ground, roaring.

"Cavalry Regiment, continue the attack!"

Five men, five horses, charged again, fiercely, toward the enemy.

Compared to the last charge, this ended faster; Yan Li also filmed a shot of his arm being severed.

The director's team ordered both sides to separate again; the Japanese cavalry formed ranks, while Yan Li sat alone on the other side, makeup artists touching him up.

Soon after, filming resumed: Yan Li, alone, one-armed, on horseback, gazing across at the Japanese cavalry.

Yan Li's eyes no longer burned with fury; due to his wounds, they were slightly unfocused, sweat and blood dripping down his face, yet he still stared straight ahead.

He took a few shallow breaths, slowly raised his saber again; even his horse seemed to sense what was coming—it snorted, pawed the ground, ready.

"Cavalry Regiment, attack!!!"

With all his strength, he shouted his final line—Yan Li, alone, one-armed, charged forward without slowing, a single man becoming an entire army.

The two sides passed each other—Sun Desheng fell; a follow-up shot showed Yan Li lying on the ground.

After finishing this shot, Yan Li's scenes for the day were done; the director called cut, but Yan Li didn't rise—Lin Jiachuan was terrified and sprinted toward him.

"Brother, are you okay?"

Yan Li lay on the ground motionless, then spoke: "I'm fine. Was it passed?"

Lin Jiachuan looked at the director, called out twice, received confirmation, then turned to Yan Li.

"The director says it's passed. You acted excellently."

"Mm."

Yan Li nodded, exhaled, and said: "Give me a cigarette."

Lin Jiachuan fumbled to pull out a cigarette and light it for Yan Li; Yan Li held the cigarette with his one arm, saluted up and down with it, then stuck it into the ground.

Then Yan Li stood, brushed the dirt off his body, picked up the saber on the ground, and gestured to Lin Jiachuan while holding the horse's reins.

"Let's go."

(End of Chapter)