Chapter 193

Late June, just before Fan Xiaopang left "The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng," Hua Yi's final offer finally arrived.

Female lead in "Mo Gong" plus two film contracts.

To be honest, it was roughly what Yan Li and the others had predicted—even slightly lower—and Fan Xiaopang had briefly thought Feng Xiaogang's "The Banquet" was part of the package.

"They still don't treat me like a person."

Fan Xiaopang fumed; the casting for "The Banquet" was in full swing, and as Hua Yi's most expensive project ever, it drew intense public attention.

The Four Little Fairies and Li Bingbing, along with several popular actresses from Hong Kong and Taiwan, were all hot candidates.

Even if Hua Yi tried to keep Fan Xiaopang with "The Banquet," it wouldn't work—but the fact they didn't even offer "The Banquet" as a retention tool left Fan truly disheartened.

"Be grateful—you've got at least one 'Mo Gong.' The top actress is worse off."

Yan Li couldn't help complaining; he'd just spoken with Li Bingbing and her sister the day before and yesterday, and Hua Yi's offer to them was even lower.

Hua Yi seemed certain Li Bingbing, as top actress, wouldn't follow Wang Jinghua out, so their retention package only promised to solidify her film status, offer fashion and commercial resources, and paint a vague picture of breaking into the international market.

And that was it!

All empty words and platitudes—they wouldn't even give their own top actress the concrete project "The Banquet."

If Fan Xiaopang turned down "Mo Gong," it might end up in Li Bingbing's hands.

Even Yan Li felt a little sorry for Li Bingbing, the top actress.

Xiao Yanzi and Zhang Ziyi among the Four Little Fairies might overshadow her, but the other two and those Hong Kong-Taiwan young actresses simply couldn't match Li Bingbing's film credentials—she'd starred in "Cell Phone" and "The Promise."

Li Bingbing's attitude was勉强 okay, but Li Xue was clearly resentful.

She ranted to Yan Li on the phone for a long time about Hua Yi, even saying, "No wonder Sister Jinghua left."

Yan Li came up with a bad idea for the two Li sisters: use Chengtian to pressure Hua Yi.

For example, if Chengtian announced a big project for Li Bingbing, it might heighten Hua Yi's sense of crisis and win Li Bingbing better terms.

Li Xue was unsure, but Yan Li thought: demand the moon, settle for the stars.

Hua Yi's artists are almost all gone; Li Bingbing stays out of loyalty—surely they owe her real, tangible rewards.

If they won't negotiate on resources, at least give a "loyalty bonus"—a few million isn't too much, even if it's not ten or eight.

Besides Li Bingbing, Li Xue should also push hard—after Wang Jinghua left, Hua Yi has no senior figure in artist management.

If Li Xue seizes this chance to rise, it'll greatly benefit both her personal career and their sisters' influence within the company.

Also, stay—but don't renew the contract. Renewal is fine, but that's a different price.

Li Bingbing still has two years left on her contract; after this earthquake, Hua Yi won't recover in two years. When they can't hold back their top actress leaving alone, they'll have to bleed to keep her.

Don't empathize with capitalists—grab the chance and fleece them!

Yan Li talked感情 to Fan Xiaopang, but when it came to Hua Yi, he urged the Li sisters to demand money, power, and resources.

It disrupted Hua Yi a bit, and the Li sisters felt he genuinely cared for them, deepening their trust.

In fact, the two sisters did see him as something of a strategist.

After Hua Yi made its offer, they called Yan Li—not because they needed advice, but because they wanted his input.

First, one of Li Bingbing's key career turning points was shaped by Yan Li's efforts; the "Two Bings" rivalry炒作 brought her real benefits—the revolutionary bond is real.

Second, Yan Li's ability and status made the Li sisters trust him, and he could better read the intentions of the Wang brothers, fellow film company bosses.

Third, they had no conflicting interests; instead, they had some cooperation—so from a friend's perspective, Yan Li stood firmly on their side.

And Yan Li's advice truly prioritized the Li sisters' interests, devising ways to help them extract flesh from Hua Yi.

Hua Yi's feelings were unclear, but the Li sisters were quite satisfied.

Li Xue aside—even Li Bingbing, who'd been subtly avoiding Yan Li since their "Two Bings" reunion on New Year's Eve, said she'd treat him to drinks when he returned to Beijing.

Too bad she specified it was a solo invitation—if both sisters invited him together, that'd be better…

Fan Xiaopang poked Yan Li, frowning at him: "What scheme are you cooking up now? You've got that sleazy grin."

"Nonsense."

Yan Li instinctively touched his mouth, then realized he'd been tricked—he'd thought his facial control wasn't that bad.

"What sleazy grin? I was thinking about the drama I'm setting up for you."

That shifted Fan Xiaopang's focus: "The project's ready?"

"Yeah."

Yan Li had promised Fan Xiaopang that after arriving, he'd create a drama centered on her as the female lead.

Originally, he'd worried about insufficient funds and might have delayed it until next year.

But Yi'an's previous projects had released smoothly; "The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng" and "The Investiture of the Gods" were both highly sought after by TV stations, the company's accounts were flush, and investors were lining up—so there was no reason to delay.

"We have two scripts now. One is our company's screenwriter's palace intrigue drama, 'Great Qing Harem,' set in the Daoguang era."

"I read the script—yeah, it has echoes of 'The Empresses in the Palace,' quality is middling to upper."

"The other is Wu Xia: 'The White-Haired Witch.' It's a classic Wu Xia tale—you've probably heard of it; Lin Qingxia, Cai Shaofen, and Jiang Qinqin all played it."

"Wu Xia is hot right now, our company has experience—if you're willing to take it, all conditions are ripe. A smash hit? Can't promise—but at least you'll get visibility."

"…."

To be fair, Yan Li wasn't especially satisfied with either project—he felt something was missing.

But at this stage, finding a female-led drama that suits Fan Xiaopang and leans commercial isn't easy.

Family dramas are out—no daughter-in-law, mother-of-children, or newlywed-couple-without-a-house plots; they offer no benefit to Fan Xiaopang now and don't fit Yi'an's packaging strategy.

Similarly, niche, obscure genres were eliminated; only modern urban, historical, and Republican-era dramas truly fit.

Yi'an had also collected other scripts, but none were satisfying—these two were already the best.

Republican-era scripts were mostly tearful, tragic romances, with maybe some national or historical flavor—hard to make them shine.

Modern urban dramas? Mainland China currently has no standout scripts.

No way—the white-collar class has only just emerged, and most screenwriters simply don't understand urban dramas.

If we really want to shoot this kind of material, Yan Li considered going to Xiangjiang to pick up some screenplays.

Leaving other things aside, in the field of contemporary urban dramas, Xiangjiang is currently far ahead of the mainland.

But Xiangjiang and the mainland have many differences; even if we bring back the scripts, we'll still need to revise them, and whether they'll adapt well is a concern.

The concept of historical dramas is broad—palace intrigues, Wu Xia, tragic romances, historical tales, and more, covering everything, offering greater creative room, and commanding higher prices from TV stations.

"Take a look at these two scripts first; if you're not satisfied, we'll keep talking. Besides these two, we currently have one semi-finished product and one outline."

Fan Xiaopang was actually fine with it—these days, making TV dramas or films, it's impossible for every project to be a hit; actors cast wide nets, and she'd handled far more modest screenplays before.

"The Great Qing Harem" and "The White-Haired Witch" both have substantial investments and are above average in every aspect.

In the industry, these are already considered good projects.

Many popular young actresses don't get such "tailor-made" treatment; most just take whatever roles come their way, at best with slightly more choice.

For example, Sun Li, who is currently on the "Lu Xiaofeng Legend" set, is practically a half-company top star, at least the most heavily promoted young actress.

But Hairen didn't say anything about tailor-making; they simply try to find her the most suitable roles among confirmed projects, or if two projects are at the same level, prioritize the one with a role fitting her.

Yan Li's first move offered her two mid-to-large-scale productions as absolute lead female roles, letting Fan Xiaopang choose—clearly, his words about fully promoting her weren't empty.

And even with this, Yan Li wasn't satisfied—he was still considering other projects.

At Fan Xiaopang's curious inquiry, Yan Li revealed the semi-finished product and the outline.

The outline was an idea from Yi'an's writing team, blending the currently popular time-travel element.

This was originally proposed by the screenwriter named Zuo Le; he'd brought a time-travel "sleeping on brushwood and tasting gall" script during his interview, and now he proposed another time-travel concept—but this time with a woman as the traveler.

The target figure is Chen Yuanyuan, combining the tangled love and hatred among several historical figures from the late Ming and early Qing dynasties, offering both tragic romance and historical drama with plenty of appeal.

Meanwhile, Chen Yuanyuan, as a "beauty who brings disaster," is undeniably beautiful, perfectly matching Fan Xiaopang's image.

In comparison, the semi-finished product was more "down-to-earth."

A conventional historical drama, its protagonist is Yang Guifei, and the script's title follows Yi'an's usual "Legend Series"—"The Legend of Yang Yuhuan."

As previously mentioned, Yi'an wanted to highlight Fan Xiaopang's beauty—whatever kind of beauty, she'd play it.

What could be more representative than the Four Great Beauties?!

Yi'an planned a "Beauty Multi-Series" for Fan Xiaopang: first shoot "The Legend of Yang Yuhuan," then later "The Legend of Wu Meiniang," "The Legend of Diaochan," "The Legend of Li Shishi," and so on.

By the way, that outline could also be turned into a historical drama and renamed "The Legend of Chen Yuanyuan."

Whether the later legends will be made is uncertain, but "The Legend of Yang Yuhuan" will most likely be produced.

Yan Li had always thought Fan Xiaopang's figure and demeanor were perfect for portraying Tang palace beauties.

"I plan a substantial investment in 'The Legend of Yang Yuhuan'—it's a major project. The script needs to be carefully crafted. If you're willing to wait, let's do this one."

Yan Li recommended Fan Xiaopang for this role.

Yang Guifei's name carries great weight—great for promotion and sales, making it the project with the strongest potential to become a blockbuster among these options.

"Uh, could I first pick one to shoot, then wait while filming?"

Fan Xiaopang was interested in "The Legend of Yang Yuhuan," but didn't want to let go of the first two either.

If she could manage it, she wanted to shoot both; if not, shooting one was fine too.

Maybe one of them would become a hit; if not, earning more pay and gaining exposure was still worthwhile.

"..."

Yan Li was speechless—eating from one bowl while eyeing another, this girl was greedy indeed.

Fan Xiaopang replied confidently: "Aren't I just trying to help the company make more money? The more I shoot, the more you, Boss Yan, earn."

That was true!

From the boss's perspective, Yan Li loved Fan Xiaopang's kind of relentless, hardworking drive.

"Alright, if you can't handle both, there are other jobs—I suggest choosing 'The White-Haired Witch.' 'The Legend of Yang Yuhuan' will involve plenty of palace intrigue, which overlaps with 'The Great Qing Harem.'"

Yan Li shared his thoughts; Fan Xiaopang thought for a moment and nodded: "I'll follow your advice."

"Mm."

Yan Li counted on his fingers: "Hua-jie's side will probably take one or two months—your contract should arrive in September or October. The specific terms will follow what we agreed on, and we'll throw you a grand signing ceremony."

After so much planning, the terms regarding Fan Xiaopang had long been settled.

Five-year contract, revenue split 60-40—company 60, Fan 40.

Moreover, within two to three years, if Fan Xiaopang meets certain contract requirements, the split will change to 50-50, or even 40-60—with Fan taking the majority.

This contract was extremely sincere and a major reason Fan Xiaopang was convinced.

All the fancy talk means nothing compared to real money—annual earnings of several million or even over ten million yuan, with one-tenth being several or even hundreds of thousands.

Yan Li didn't feel cheated; compared to Huayi, Yi'an still lacked depth, and Fan Xiaopang, as a top young actress, accepting a standard 70-30 contract would be an insult.

The later concessions were meant to better secure Fan Xiaopang.

In the future, Fan Xiaopang will surely become even more popular, eventually standing on her own, gaining more leverage—if you don't give her a share, she'll walk away.

Don't think that changing from 60-40 to 40-60 means less for Fan Xiaopang—if she becomes big enough, her income will skyrocket, and even a 30-70 split would earn her more than before.

Yan Li didn't plan to treat Fan Xiaopang like a fat sheep, squeezing her dry over a few years and then discarding her—he knew her true value from the system, and if possible, he wanted a long-term partnership.

When the five-year contract ends, if Fan Xiaopang stays with Yi'an, that's best; if not, Yan Li is willing to help her start her own company for another kind of deep collaboration.

This wasn't written into the contract, but both sides had reached mutual agreement.

As a boss, you mustn't skimp on money or resources, and you shouldn't find it troublesome to promise big dreams.

"How grand?"

Fan Xiaopang was intrigued by Yan Li's mention of the signing ceremony; Yan Li thought for a moment.

"At least a million yuan in investment."

Currently, everyone is fond of these high-profile signing ceremonies—they show respect for the artist, demonstrate the company's financial strength, and serve as excellent exposure and marketing hooks.

Fan Xiaopang loved the spotlight; though she thought the money would be better given directly to her, the chance to shine in grand style made her eagerly anticipate it.

"What style to go for? Why not throw a queen's coronation? Or a goddess descending? Or throw me a birthday party—September is my birthday anyway."

Fan Xiaopang enthusiastically suggested it, but Yan Li retorted: "Why don't you wear a wedding dress and let your dad lead you, 'marrying' into our company?"

"Hey, that idea isn't bad either."

Fan Xiaopang's eyes lit up: "You're the boss—you play the groom. It's both a signing and a wedding. Invite Dong Xuan and Qin Lan to watch the ceremony. Hey, why are you running—"

Yan Li walked away quickly; if he didn't run, he feared Qin Lan would hear and poison him.

"Coward."

Fan Xiaopang snorted softly, then reconsidered the wedding-signing idea—it really was thrilling.

Thinking further about how Dong Xuan and Qin Lan could only grit their teeth and watch from below made him feel euphoric—but if he actually did this, those two wouldn't sit still; they'd probably storm the stage…

————

At the end of June, Fan Xiaopang officially wrapped filming and left the set to handle accumulated events and commercial activities.

Then she prepared to join the new film Yan Li had negotiated for her—Tokyo Trial.

Huayi had released Liu Tianwang's Mo Gong, so Yan Li couldn't rely solely on TV dramas—he needed to give Fan Xiaopang some film exposure, however minor.

Although Yan Li didn't have many film resources, he wasn't completely empty-handed.

For instance, this film Tokyo Trial, directed by Gao Qunshu, was an old connection of Yan Li's—he leveraged his relationship and added some resources to successfully get Fan Xiaopang cast.

But in this film, Fan's role was small, and Yan Li didn't take it too seriously.

After Fan Xiaopang wrapped, Yan Li also entered his countdown—the filming of Lu Xiaofeng Legend was also expected to end in July.

It started shooting on March 12 and had accumulated over four months; for a 40-episode Wu Xia drama, that was relatively slow.

But slower still was The Legend of the Condor Heroes—it began shooting last October and only wrapped in mid-April, filming intermittently for about half a year.

Of course, they had multiple location shifts and several pauses in between, which wasted considerable time.

Lu Xiaofeng Legend also shot many exterior scenes, but far fewer than the other, and used multiple crews, saving a lot of time.

In comparison, The Investiture of the Gods had started shooting earlier and had fewer episodes.

But because it involved many large-scale battle scenes, its wrap date might be later than Lu Xiaofeng Legend's.

Broadcast timing would be even slower, given the heavy special effects—post-production would take longer; even if everything went smoothly, it wouldn't air until next summer.

Lu Xiaofeng Legend should air much earlier—likely early next year, at the latest by mid-year.

The exact timing depends on post-production progress and coordination with The Legend of the Condor Heroes' schedule.

Yan Li and Big Bearded Man had stirred up a media frenzy over the "Condor vs. Lu Xiaofeng" rivalry, but their goal was mutual profit, not a bitter feud.

So most likely, the two sides wouldn't air simultaneously, but they wouldn't be too far apart either—otherwise, they couldn't leverage each other's buzz.

Yan Li's idea was to space them one or two months apart: enough to create competition, but not so close as to trigger direct head-on clashes and ruin the overall market.

Big Bearded Man hadn't responded yet, but it probably wouldn't be an issue.

If he refused to cooperate and tried to ride Lu Xiaofeng Legend's coattails, Yan Li wasn't afraid.

Let him try!

Honestly, if he went head-to-head with Big Bearded Man, winning would earn him face, and losing wouldn't shame him—he was far less experienced.

Of course, his earlier "bold claims" would be mocked by some, but Yan Li had thick skin; as long as he made money, he wouldn't care.

Hengdian, guesthouse room

Yan Li sat cross-legged below, bare-chested, revealing a muscular, well-built upper body; beside him, Zeng Li's face was flushed, holding a small leather whip, eager to strike.

Presumably, during a visit to the neighboring set, Ju Jiaoliang had seen Yan Li's shirtless scenes in The Investiture of the Gods.

The more he saw, the more he thought it was a waste not to show off Yan Li's physique.

So Lu Xiaofeng Legend was given a shirtless scene.

The plot was reasonable: after all, he was cultivating demonic arts, and the side effects required self-punishment—sometimes he did it himself, sometimes his subordinate Sha Man did it for him.

For visual impact, being whipped bare-skinned made sense, and it subtly hinted at Gong Jiu's forbidden lust for Sha Man, who resembled his late mother.

Anyway, these directors were all masters of interpretation, pulling elaborate readings out of thin air.

They even slapped on a label: The Investiture of the Gods was the adopted son. Yan Li showed skin there—why shouldn't the real son, Lu Xiaofeng Legend, show skin too?

After much hesitation, Yan Li decided to sacrifice himself—but insisted on filming only one scene.

Yet even with psychological preparation, seeing Zeng Li in a sheer robe, holding the small leather whip, still made him flinch.

This was far more embarrassing than the scenes in The Investiture of the Gods…

So during setup, Yan Li stayed silent, closing his eyes as if meditating internally—out of sight, out of mind.

"Director, shall I start?"

The director signaled ready; Zeng Li whispered a reminder. Yan Li didn't want to speak, just gave a soft hum.

The whipping wouldn't be real—just for show. It looked brutal, but never actually landed; even the few hits that did were painless.

Though the whip wouldn't land, Yan Li still had to portray pain—but as a dark sect boss, he couldn't cry out.

So he just frowned, sweated slightly, and occasionally let out muffled groans.

That was fine, but whenever he groaned, Zeng Li couldn't help laughing or blushing, forcing retakes.

Because in the plot, Sha Man wasn't striking Gong Jiu for the first time, and the scene implied lust—so her emotions should be calm, numb, even slightly resentful.

Thus, Sha Man had to control her expression and keep her movements restrained.

She feared Gong Jiu, and this act was primarily to delay the demonic arts' side effects, so she couldn't strike too hard or too cruelly—it would violate their relationship.

But she couldn't strike too lightly either, or it would look like flirtation, and fail to convey Gong Jiu's hidden ruthlessness.

After adjusting for a long while, Zeng Li finally found the right tone; Yan Li was both speechless and relieved.

Thank goodness it was Zeng Li—who had no personal connection to him. If Fan Xiaopang, Qin Lan, or Wang Ou had played this role, things would've been hilarious.

Wang Ou wouldn't dare. Qin Lan was uncertain. But Fan Xiaopang—that wild woman might "misjudge the pressure" and whip him twice.

After enduring the scene, Yan Li opened his eyes—and saw Qin Lan watching from the side, her expression sour yet delighted.

Oh no!

Sure enough, when Qin Lan returned home that night, she said she wanted to play too.

Last time she tied up Yan Li but couldn't bring herself to strike, and then Zeng Li beat her to it—she was so frustrated, she absolutely had to whip Yan Li herself.

Yan Li's face darkened; he had a bad feeling this scene would become his "black history," and those women would never let him live it down.

"Come on, come on, please!"

Qin Lan kept up her coquettish act, but Yan Li firmly ignored her: "I don't have a whip, but how about some other kind of lash?"

"…"

Qin Lan turned to run, but Yan Li grabbed her—she wanted to whip him? First let him whip her…

…

Another day passed; Qin Lan packed her things and prepared to leave the set.

Wang Ou was gone, Fan Xiaopang had left too; Qin Lan's guard dropped significantly—there was no need to stick with Yan Li until filming ended.

Mostly because her agent, Sister Lyu, was pushing hard: "The Great Song Inspector" was a ratings smash, and she had plenty of new offers.

Her roles in "The Investiture of the Gods" and "The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng" were minor—max one month's shooting—but she'd dragged it out this long. If Qin Lan weren't protected by powerful backers, Sister Lyu would've stormed into Hengdian already.

Of course, there was another reason: some beast was just too much of a beast.

He tormented her every night; she really couldn't take it anymore.

If Yan Li hadn't returned to Jingcheng for a few days in between, if she hadn't had her monthly physiological break to save her, if he hadn't held back out of pity, if he hadn't just teased her without satisfying her, and if she hadn't been competing with Fan Xiaopang out of spite, she'd have fled long ago.

Qin Lan could tolerate Yan Li's promiscuity—for instance, ignoring Wang Ou, who posed little threat, and Dong Xuan turning a blind eye—this was also a major reason.

One person simply couldn't handle it!

He was like a living donkey reincarnated, and it was getting even more extreme.

Short-term pleasure, long-term torture.

Qin Lan had the advantage of quick recovery; Yan Li held back, so she could endure it long-term.

Dong Xuan couldn't—she'd once moved back into the dorm to hide from him, and once nearly snapped and kicked him out to find someone else.

Yan Li himself felt fine; he thought his physical enhancement hadn't been that dramatic—certainly nowhere near Little Superman's level—and it was probably more about improved technique.

Back when he was young, he knew less, just pounded away blindly, managing to use only half his full ability.

Now, with more experience, combining raw strength and technique, he achieved double the results with half the effort—his ten units of ability now produced over tenfold.

People really must grow!

Yan Li reviewed the newly triggered monthly intelligence from early July: 【Heaven-Turning One-Hundred-and-Eight Styles】, thinking that once he mastered it, his ability might reach twentyfold.

He carefully stored this most important intelligence and flipped through the rest of the useful reports.

【2009 Hit TV Drama "The Snail House"】

Yan Li studied the intelligence in detail—it was adapted from a novel, not yet published—but he memorized the screenwriter/author's name: Liu Liu, planning to look her up later.

【2008 Financial Crisis Timeline】

Yan Li was speechless; the system was truly terrified he'd get crushed in this financial crisis—this was the third time it had triggered related intelligence, yearly and monthly.

He grumbled aloud, but he realized this financial crisis was indeed brutal—many had lost everything, even their families; he had to be careful.

【2009 New Generation Four Little Fairies: Liu Tianxian, Huang Shengyi, Yang Mi, Wang Luodan elected】

Wow~

Yan Li was surprised by these four selections; Liu Tianxian was fine—she was already quite popular, and any future list of Four Little Fairies would have to include her.

Huang Shengyi's "Kung Fu Hustle"红利 wouldn't last that long—she must have new projects lined up.

Wang Luodan—he recalled that shy little junior sister; he'd heard she'd recently joined Hai Run, never imagining she'd become one of the Four Little Fairies.

Two from the same 2001 class at Beijing Film Academy becoming Four Little Fairies? Remarkable.

As for Yang Mi… Yan Li didn't know her.

He searched past intelligence—her name appeared once, briefly, with no concrete details.

Clearly another rising star; Yan Li noted the name, planning to inquire later.

Aside from these, the rest of the intelligence was fairly ordinary; Yan Li skipped it daily.

But Huang Shengyi's appearance today reminded him of someone else.

After their last conversation, she hadn't replied—just sent a few brief text greetings.

She must've made her choice!

Yan Li wasn't too surprised; he'd anticipated this from the start. After all, they'd had deep conversations—he understood this junior sister well.

Short-sighted + greedy, easily swayed, and dim-witted.

The first two weren't unusual—most people were like that—but combined with the last two, it became troublesome.

Yan Li believed he'd given her more than enough help, fulfilling his obligations to their relationship. If Huang Shengyi chose another path, then fine—each walks their own road.

As for the Four Little Fairies? Fan Xiaopang was already chasing the real thing—why care about a few "counterfeits" years down the line?

If Yan Li were willing to throw money and resources, he might even get Wang Ou to replace one of them.

He remembered Wang Ou was only half a year older than Huang Shengyi—she'd qualify for the selection.

Hmm…

Yan Li was actually curious—what would his little junior sister feel if Wang Ou replaced Huang Shengyi?

…

But Yan Li had no energy left to ponder Huang Shengyi; the next challenger was about to arrive.

After Wang Ou, Fan Xiaopang, and Qin Lan all left the set, Wu Jiani looked around and realized her spring had come.

Heaven had mercy—Wu Jiani felt she'd suffered too much.

Because her senior, Wang Ou, was too weak, constantly suppressed by Fan Xiaopang and Qin Lan.

He couldn't even find his own bones; after briefly interacting with Yan Li, she became nothing more than a generic extra among extras.

With the three towering figures above her gone, Yan Li seemed to have no interest in Zeng Li or Sun Li, who were still in the group.

Wu Jiani believed this was a once-in-a-millennium opportunity.

Miss this chance, and relying on Wang Ou, that useless waste, to make connections? By then, the tea would be cold.

Wu Jiani had even once suspected that before she could even approach Yan Li, Wang Ou would already be kicked out—fine, she'd do it herself.

Taking advantage of the wrap of the "Feng Wu Jiutian" segment—where Yan Li portrayed Gong Jiu and she portrayed Beef Soup—Wu Jiani invited Yan Li out to sing karaoke.

She chose karaoke because it was her personal hobby—she loved singing—and it was also one of the main activities of the cast, making it easy to suggest.

More importantly, the karaoke room was a perfect place.

Once the music played, no one outside could hear; once the lights were off, the interior grew dim, alcohol could be served to heighten the mood, and the atmosphere became lively—far more relaxed than going out to dinner.

She'd learned this trick from Wang Ou last time, but that had been a试探; this was an escalation.

Worried Yan Li might refuse a one-on-one invite, she pulled a small trick—she told him she'd invited several others, but when he arrived, she was the only one in the room.

"They had last-minute business and went home."

"Oh, what bad luck."

Yan Li set down his handbag containing Safety Equipment: "Just us two singing? Boring. Let's play a little game."

"What game?"

Though the plan had seemed perfect and everything had gone smoothly, being alone with Yan Li still made Wu Jiani blush and feel nervous.

"There's dice here. Just the two of us—simple game: compare numbers. Loser gets punished."

"What kind of punishment?"

"Whatever I feel like—drinking, singing, performing a skit. No forced penalties; if you can't take it, we can switch."

"Fine."

Wu Jiani thought Yan Li's suggestion was good—she had to go through with it now; regret was useless at this point.

Yan Li picked up the karaoke room's dice, and they each rolled once, comparing numbers directly.

He had no intention to cheat, nor could he cheat—win or lose didn't matter; the goal was to draw closer and liven the mood.

In the first few rounds, they both won and lost; punishments mostly involved drinking. When they felt the mood was right, Yan Li downed two glasses and finally won once.

He studied Wu Jiani, watching until her face turned red, then spoke slowly.

"Aren't you a graduate of Beijing Dance Academy? I want to see you dance."

"... Alright."

Wu Jiani hesitated, too shy to perform anything too sensual like Latin dance, and chose a simple folk dance instead.

Just as she was about to begin, Yan Li stopped her, stood up, and went to the song selection screen to pick a purely instrumental track as accompaniment.

"..."

Wu Jiani finally understood why Wang Ou said Yan Li knew how to play—she gave him an annoyed glance but obediently began dancing.

Yan Li leaned back on the sofa, watching the beauty dance, sipping his wine with ease.

Elegant!

(End of Chapter)