Chapter 162: Still Explosive with Information: This Year

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

In just four days, it surpassed 70 million yuan at the box office, soon broke one hundred million, and outperformed The World of the Rich, which had premiered earlier, aiming for the 2004 box office champion title.

Beyond its strong performance on the mainland, Kung Fu Hustle also excelled at the box office in other regions.

In Taiwan, after nine days of screening, its box office exceeded 100 million New Taiwan Dollars, breaking the record for the fastest billion-dollar gross in Taiwan, equivalent to about 25 million RMB.

Hong Kong's box office was projected to surpass 60 million Hong Kong Dollars, making it the second Hong Kong film after Shaolin Soccer to reach over 60 million.

Box office earnings in North America and Japan were also expected to exceed ten million U. . dollars, with over a dozen countries projected to hit over one million each.

Though it might not match the achievements of Hero from the past two years, it still marked a small milestone for Chinese-language cinema.

Stephen Chow, as both lead actor and director, was elevated to godlike status.

Many supporting actors in the film, such as the Landlord, the Landlady, the Fiery Cloud Demon, 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 in the film, becoming the dream goddess of countless fans.

Even Yu Yanli, who had taken the time to watch Kung Fu Hustle, was stunned by Huang Shengyi's beauty.

Stephen Chow truly knew how to direct—he'd slept with his junior sister many times, but for the first time, he realized how beautiful she could be.

Yu Yanli even felt a tiny bit of regret: if he'd known, he should've waited until after the film's release to break up—he'd wanted to buy the mute girl a lollipop.

But regret came too late; Huang Shengyi's fame exploded, and with just one film, she was already on the cusp of becoming a top rising star, backed by powerful figures, with a brilliant future ahead.

Of course, given Yu Yanli's current wealth and status, winning her back wouldn't be difficult—but it wasn't necessary.

A little regret was better; if he'd won her back, it might not have been nearly as beautiful.

Compared to Huang Shengyi, Yu Yanli valued more the success of The World of the Rich and Kung Fu Hustle—their promotion and advancement of the film industry and the entire entertainment sector.

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

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

Then came Zhang Yimou's two films: Hero in 2002 and House of Flying Daggers in the summer of 2004, followed by Kung Fu Hustle and The World of the Rich in the New Year's season.

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

Breaking the one-hundred-million-yuan barrier was no longer a rare phenomenon requiring perfect timing, location, and luck—it was gradually becoming commonplace.

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

Coupled with the powerful influence of the entertainment industry, many wealthy individuals were now turning their attention toward film and television.

This was good news for Yu Yanli: the more wealthy investors there were, the easier it would be to secure funding.

Not just for project investments, but for other ventures as well, his proposals would carry far more weight.

For example… cinema chains.

Last year's annual intelligence mentioned Wanda's cinema chain strategy; perhaps Yu Yanli had done some private research, and this year's annual intelligence system triggered related information again.

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

Honestly, if the Film Bureau saw this report, they'd probably laugh themselves stupid.

Yu Yanli 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 Yu Yanli to roughly understand the development of China's cinema market over the next twenty years.

Even a stupid pig, given the chance, could use these two pieces of intelligence to climb to a senior position in a cinema chain—minimum, a high-level consultant.

For Yu Yanli, who had both ability and ambition, it was like adding wings to a tiger.

Yu Yanli, who had already considered entering the cinema chain business, now solidified his resolve.

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

So now, Yu Yanli 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 out cinema chains.

Besides cinema chains, another piece of annual intelligence gave Yu Yanli a new idea.

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

Light Chaser Media—he'd heard of it.

But he thought they were primarily a variety show producer, like China Entertainment Report and Music Fengyunbang; his crew had once appeared on one of their programs for The Seven Fairies, and he never imagined they'd later transition into film so successfully.

After studying Light Chaser's development closely, Yu Yanli discovered some "new continents."

Yu Yanli planned to enter cinema chains because he believed the current film market was too small, making film production high-risk.

Cinema chains, as the end point, were stable and guaranteed income, carrying far less risk than production companies; though short-term losses were inevitable due to the overall market, their long-term prospects were limitless.

But Yu Yanli wasn't Wanda—they had a mature business layout. He could at best get a slice of the pie and couldn't realistically compete with Wanda.

Light Chaser's emergence opened a new path for Yu Yanli: besides cinema chains, he could also enter distribution.

Many companies had started with film distribution—there were plenty of examples in Hollywood and Hong Kong, and even on the mainland, there was Bona.

Bona's boss, Fat Yu, had originally 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 in China to receive a film distribution license.

Afterward, Fat Yu partnered with Hong Kong, bringing Hong Kong films to the mainland for distribution, and using his decades of industry connections to grow Bona into a powerhouse.

Yu Yanli had built his television career on distribution—he couldn't have failed to consider film distribution.

But film distribution was an entirely different industry from television distribution.

In television distribution, often you just sell the series to a TV station and then leave it alone.

Film distribution required close collaboration with both upstream producers and downstream cinema chains, plus constant coordination of publicity and direct engagement with audiences.

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

The difficulty and complexity were unimaginable!

Yu Yanli admitted he had limited connections in the film industry—film distribution wasn't something he could easily enter.

But Light Chaser's distribution model showed Yu Yanli a completely different approach from traditional methods.

According to the intelligence, when Light Chaser first transitioned into film, they had few film industry connections—but they fully leveraged their strengths—

The rich distribution networks and integrated marketing resources they'd built during their variety show years.

TV stations, online platforms, and other channels gave Light Chaser immense promotional power, easily crushing traditional film distributors.

Meanwhile, Light Chaser implemented ground promotion strategies.

At the time, the cinema chain market had no effective management system, the internet was underdeveloped, and theaters had considerable autonomy over scheduling.

Light Chaser established the nation's only on-site distribution system, with staff in seventy cities tracking theater schedules daily, greatly improving efficiency.

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

Yu Yanli felt he couldn't copy Light Chaser's method exactly, but he could imitate parts of it.

He had his own television distribution network and media resources; his ground promotion might not be as efficient as Light Chaser's years of event experience, but he could still try.

More importantly, by participating in cinema chain development, he would hold a certain amount of terminal market control, giving him advantages over Light Chaser in some areas.

Yu Yanli thought he should give it a try.

The advantage of film distribution was its relatively low risk: controlling the channels meant he could calmly move upstream into film production when the time came, greatly benefiting his mid- to long-term development.

Meanwhile, Light Chaser's preference for small investments and their skill at achieving big returns with minimal capital were worth learning from.

Big-budget films carried high risk, but investing in the right low-budget projects meant profits were a bonus and losses were manageable—just experience gained.

As for later internet-based online distribution, that was still too far off—he noted it mentally but didn't consider it now.

In short, this analysis of a future entertainment giant's success was profoundly meaningful to Yu Yanli; drawing even a little from it might play a key role in Yi'an's development.

…

These two annual intelligences were the most valuable; the rest still held some utility.

【Annual Intelligence 4: Wang Qi Waited Twelve Years Before Marrying a 20-Billion-Dollar Movie Star, While Shen Teng Had His Own "Unresolved Regret"…】

Wang Qi?

When Yu Yanli first saw this intelligence, he was stunned; it took him a moment to recall Wang Qi was Lan Ni, the female second lead in Railway Guerrillas.

He hadn't expected that a few brief encounters could yield such a huge revelation.

A 20-billion-dollar movie star!

Wow, Yu Yanli thought of Liu Dehua's two billion-grossing films this year, 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 Shen Teng's entanglements with Ma Li and Wang Qi; aside from Shen Teng and Happy Mahua, the information was limited.

【Annual Intelligence 6: Qin Lan's Personal Resume as of 2024…】

Yu Yanli read this intelligence very carefully.

He was both surprised and unsurprised to find Qin Lan's career had progressed rather modestly.

She barely made it to second-tier status early on, and only after her comeback in Empresses in the Palace did she begin walking the "domineering lady" path and finally rise to prominence.

Compared to her career, Yu Yanli cared more about other matters—and he remembered certain people.

【Annual Intelligence 8: A Review of the Various Impacts of the 2008 Financial Crisis…】

Yu Yanli was surprised to see this intelligence, because the year should have belonged to monthly intelligence.

Its appearance in annual intelligence meant the financial crisis had truly been massive.

After skimming it, Yu Yanli found it useful—at least this warning would make him more cautious when planning cinema chains and other investments later.

He'd avoid overextending himself or investing in risky projects that could lead to a major fall.

At this level of financial crisis, a single misstep could trigger a chain reaction, potentially causing serious damage—or even bankruptcy.

【Annual Intelligence 10: When Did the Spring Festival Gala Shift from Being Universally Anticipated to Being Widely Hated…】

No way, has the Spring Festival Gala become useless?

Yu Yanli skimmed it and relaxed—he saw the Gala had only begun its decline from its peak, and that would take years.

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

…

Each year's new 【Annual Intelligence】 always took Yu Yanli a while to digest, then prompted adjustments to his business strategy to varying degrees.

While Yu Yanli was in "semi-seclusion," The Emperor in Han Dynasty finally premiered on CCTV.

As soon as the TV series aired, its high-quality, grand production instantly made it the most popular drama of January, with ratings climbing steadily and dominating the entire year-opening slot.

Yan Li's friends also rallied behind him, turning on their TVs to catch a glimpse of Boss Yan's performance.

But then they realized… where was he?!

Yan Li was speechless—a bunch of history illiterates. Emperor Wu of Han was still in his youth, seizing power; Wei Qing hadn't even risen yet, so how could there be Huo Qubing?

His scenes don't appear until after episode 40; by the time they air, it'll be nearly February.

And in "The Seven Fairies," his appearance is also late—he doesn't show up until nearly episode 20. If you want to support him, you'll need some patience.

Still, with two upcoming dramas he's starring in, and his roles being particularly striking, Yan Li still held some expectations.

Maybe after these two dramas finish airing, he could even earn the title of "hottest young actor."

The media always refers to him as "XXX producer," usually listing titles like Zhang the Big Beard—making him sound ancient.

Yan Li had only just turned 24. He still thought "hottest young actor" sounded much better.

In mid-January, Yan Li, anticipating a busy schedule ahead, discussed with the "Bright Sword" crew and secured a small portion of time off, entering the set early.

Since Sun Desheng's role was minor, the crew was accommodating—Yan Li could wrap up quickly and focus on his own affairs.

The "Bright Sword" crew filmed in a rural village, with earthen walls and dirt roads, capturing the era's aesthetic.

Upon arriving, Yan Li was immediately dragged off by the makeup artist for costume and makeup.

The costume was simple: an old, 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 stared into the mirror, searching for the character's essence.

Then Director Chen Jian saw a determined, fierce-looking Eighth Route Company Commander, rough and untamed.

To be honest, Chen Jian had been somewhat dissatisfied with Yan Li being cast as Sun Desheng.

Though the role had few scenes, it was one of the key figures embodying the "Bright Sword Spirit"—one of the drama's emotional anchors.

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

But the moment he saw Yan Li's appearance and aura, he knew the actor had studied the character deeply—even read the full script thoroughly; otherwise, he wouldn't have grasped the character's essence so instantly upon arrival.

Unlike typical main-theme dramas, the soldiers of the Independent Regiment in "Bright Sword" carried a wild, ferocious edge—described in the script as a pack of howling wolves.

Sun Desheng valued honor above all, always leading the charge, daring to challenge his regiment commander for the sake of battle—he was one of the fiercest wolves among them.

Chen Jian had seen Yan Li's previous work—he'd nailed Wu Tian in "Conquest."

But he'd feared Yan Li might just be playing himself, or acting without seriousness. Now, seeing this, he'd already relaxed half his worries.

If you can capture the character's essence, you can't possibly act badly!

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

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

Though he knew the leads—Li Youbin (Li Yunlong), He Zheng Army (Zhao Gang), Zhang Guangbei (Chu Yunfei)—they'd never interacted.

As for Tong Lei, who played Tian Yu, she hadn't even joined yet; they had no scenes together, so they'd likely never meet.

That saved him some awkwardness!

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

Thinking of it, Yan Li almost regretted it—he should've found a way to replace Tong Lei. Qin Lan or Dong Xuan would've suited Tian Yu just fine.

No—eventually, if his relationship with Qin or Dong ever got exposed, people would still mock him. Either way, he couldn't escape the "sleeping with his sister-in-law" meme.

Yan Li had no solution—he could only do his best to portray Sun Desheng well, and try to make people forget the off-screen drama.

After that, Yan Li didn't wander aimlessly—he pulled Lin Jiachuan back to his 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 stick by Yan Li's side, just to stay visible.

He'd just wrapped 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 a trained actor, knew how to rehearse scenes, and had been Yan Li's classmate for two years, practicing daily—they had perfect chemistry.

That's why Yan Li brought him to the "Bright Sword" set—to privately rehearse and prepare.

The next day, Yan Li filmed his first scenes: in the morning, he requested battle orders from Li Yunlong; in the afternoon, he observed the cavalry unit's training alongside Li Yunlong and Zhao Gang.

The third day, he filmed miscellaneous personal scenes. His remaining scenes were the ambush of the Yamazaki Battalion, the cavalry's final battle, and some group scenes.

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

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

…

The Spring Festival was in early February; now, it was the dead of winter, the twelfth lunar month.

On the flatlands outside Hebei Province, the wind howled, water froze instantly. The thin costume offered little warmth; riding a galloping horse was pure agony.

First up: a chase scene. The cavalry unit, while counter-raiding, was spotted by the Japanese cavalry regiment.

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

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

Wind howled across the barren field.

Yan Li, as Sun Desheng, stood with his dozen Eighth Route soldiers in a single line, facing dozens of times their number of Japanese cavalry.

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

The wind roared. Only the pounding of hooves and heavy breathing filled the air. Yan Li ordered his men to drop their rifles and draw their sabers.

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

"Cavalry unit, follow my order—attack the enemy!"

"Charge!"

"Kill!"

Yan Li led the charge; the other cavalrymen shouted as they galloped forward, sabers raised.

"Ji qi gei (attack)!"

The Japanese cavalry, under their officer's command, charged toward them.

The two sides crashed together—hooves thundered, sabers swung, screams echoed across the wasteland. Men fell constantly, blood staining uniforms and blades.

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

Afterward, the director ordered both sides to separate. The Japanese side waited. Yan Li and his men were rushed into makeup.

When filming resumed, Yan Li's side had only five men left—all covered in blood, eyes blazing with hatred.

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

No one told them how to act. They were fully immersed, instinctively glaring at the enemy.

Yan Li gasped heavily, his saber-wielding arm trembling—whether from exhaustion or cold, he didn't know. His eyes locked onto the enemy.

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

"Cavalry unit, continue the attack!"

Five men, five horses, charged again, fiercely.

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

The director ordered another separation. The Japanese cavalry formed a line. Yan Li sat alone on the other side, makeup artists retouching him.

Soon after, filming resumed. Yan Li, alone, one-armed, one horse, stared across at the Japanese cavalry.

His eyes no longer blazed with fury—wounded, they were slightly unfocused. Sweat and blood streamed 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, pawing the ground, ready.

"Cavalry unit—attack!!!"

With all his strength, he shouted his final line. Alone, one-armed, he charged forward—still an army of one.

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

After filming this scene, Yan Li's day was done. The director called "Cut!"—but Yan Li didn't move. Lin Jiachuan panicked, sprinting toward him.

"Brother, are you okay?"

Yan Li lay still, then replied: "I'm fine. Did we get it?"

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

"The director says we got it. You were amazing."

"Hmm."

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

Lin Jiachuan fumbled, pulled out a cigarette, lit it. Yan Li held it with his one arm, saluted up and down, then stuck it into the ground.

Then he stood, brushed off the dirt, picked up his saber, and called to Lin Jiachuan.

"Let's go."

(End of Chapter)