Chapter 208: Entering 2006: The Top Ten Billionaires Born in the 1980s

In December 2005, a grand epic premiered—Chen Da Dao's "The Promise."

As one of mainland China's leading directors who had made the masterpiece "Farewell My Concubine," Chen Da Dao's venture into commercial cinema, with hundreds of millions invested and top stars from China, Japan, and Korea assembled, was eagerly anticipated by industry insiders and countless film fans.

Many media outlets and netizens believed this film would surpass the Chinese box office record of "Hero," even outperforming "Titanic."

And it wasn't just the mainland market—the studio targeted Asian markets like Japan, Korea, and Southeast Asia, as well as North America and Europe.

Otherwise, with the mainland's current box office scale, it could never support such a massive investment; "The Promise" was always aimed at conquering Hollywood from the start.

Yet unexpectedly, before conquering Hollywood, "The Promise" suffered a massive failure in the mainland market.

To be fair, "The Promise"'s box office figures weren't terrible.

It easily surpassed 100 million yuan in seven days, setting new records for mainland opening day, opening week, single-day, and opening weekend box office.

In today's film market, "The Promise" stood alone as a phenomenon.

But behind its brilliant box office numbers lay unprecedented criticism and scathing reviews.

Chen Da Dao and the film were viciously attacked; some netizens even made devastating remarks.

"Did Chen Da Dao really direct 'Farewell My Concubine'?"

Yan Li also took time to watch "The Promise." Whether from public opinion or his monthly intelligence reports, he knew the film was terrible.

But he still wanted to know just how bad it really was.

After leaving the theater, Yan Li fell silent—it was the most worthless ticket he'd ever spent.

Yan Li kept subconsciously thinking of "Farewell My Concubine," trying to trigger his intelligence system to verify whether Chen Da Dao had actually directed it.

It was fucking terrible!

As a graduate of Beijing Film Academy, Yan Li and his fellow acting students held a strong filter of admiration for top directors like Chen and Lao Mouzi, both alumni of the same school.

Yan Li knew several Beijing Film Academy students who dreamed of starring in Chen's and Zhang's films as a career goal.

But after watching "The Promise," at least Yan Li's filter for Chen Da Dao shattered completely; the only sliver left was due to "Farewell My Concubine."

In contrast to Yan Li's silence, Fan Xiaopang, who watched with him, thought it wasn't as bad as everyone claimed.

"It's not good, but the special effects are decent, the visuals are nice—give it a passing grade."

Yan Li glanced at her and said seriously: "If you want to become a truly great actor, it's not just about acting—you must elevate your artistic taste."

"Shit is shit. Just because it's not that smelly doesn't mean you can eat it."

"Ugh~"

Fan Xiaopang gagged and pummeled him with her tiny pink fist: "You're disgusting."

Yan Li shook his head: "These big directors have huge reputations, but that doesn't mean they're suited for commercial films. Old Zhang is barely acceptable, Old Chen has failed, and I doubt Old Feng will do any better."

Compared to Zhang and Chen, Feng Xiaogang, who had quietly caught up in recent years through box office performance, relied mostly on New Year comedies.

Now, abandoning his strength in comedy to make a court epic, Yan Li didn't need his system to analyze—he didn't think much of it.

Of course, Feng Xiaogang might prove him wrong, but after being nauseated by "The Promise," Yan Li's trust in big directors and big-budget films was pitifully low.

Yan Li had originally planned that after Yi'an Cinema Chain launched, he wouldn't lead but would at least try investing in a commercial blockbuster—now he was humbled.

Guangxian's low-budget strategy was still safer.

Hmm, Yan Li did the math on "The Promise" himself—and the more he calculated, the colder his heart grew. If he were an investor, he'd want to sleep with Chen Hong's bed.

Directly from the theater, Yan Li and Fan Xiaopang went to Zhongtian Century Huacheng to practice and imitate scenes from "The Promise."

In Yan Li's view, the only thing worth praising in the entire film was the passionate love scene by the Jade Gatekeeper from Xiangjiang.

Afterward, Fan Xiaopang went to bathe; Yan Li opened his computer to check emails when suddenly his phone rang.

Yan Li looked at the caller ID in surprise—Wang Wei from Tudou. om. What did he want?

Out of money?

He'd just invested over 8 million RMB—how could he need more so soon?

After answering the call, Yan Li listened to Wang Wei's explanation, his expression turning slightly odd.

After hanging up, Yan Li opened Tudou. om and quickly found a short video—

"A Steamed Bun Causing a Bloodbath."

He clicked play, and as it ran, his smile grew wider and wider.

This netizen called "Hu Ge" was genuinely talented—he satirically dissected "The Promise" from a real-world perspective. Yan Li hadn't noticed it while watching, but now, seeing this, he realized everything was indeed the bun's fault.

After washing up, Fan Xiaopang came over, saw Yan Li laughing at his computer, and leaned in; he played it again for her, and she too couldn't help laughing.

"Too ridiculous."

Yan Li explained that this video was now wildly popular online—Tudou. om alone had nearly a million views, and it was being shared everywhere.

Fan Xiaopang sensed something wrong: "If it's this popular, won't there be trouble?"

This parody video, bordering on mockery, spreading so widely, must affect "The Promise"—would the studio allow it?

"The studio has already sent Tudou. om a cease-and-desist demanding the video's removal."

Although the video was now circulating across the entire internet, Tudou. om was its original source, the platform with the highest views and greatest influence, drawing countless netizens daily.

Tudou. om's Wang Wei coveted this massive traffic surge and didn't want to take it down, but some editing in the video clearly involved copyright infringement.

So he wanted Yan Li to intervene and mediate.

"Will Chen Da Dao give you this much face?"

Fan Xiaopang wasn't sure—these big directors were arrogant, especially Chen Da Dao. Normally he might give Yan Li some courtesy, but this video was practically pointing at his nose and cursing him—Yan Li had little chance of settling it.

"He can give it or not."

Yan Li had no intention of getting involved—did "The Promise" even have a legal claim to copyright infringement?

Fine, sue then. Lose the case, take it down. Worst case, let "netizens" re-upload it, then "deal with it" slowly.

It's true you can't break the law in business—but you also can't be too honest. When you can skirt the edge, you should.

The whole internet is riding this wave—why should Tudou. om hand over the traffic and popularity to others? That's stupid.

If it were me, I'd openly sue "The Promise"—what a perfect ad! Even if I lost and paid damages, I'd have already earned back countless times over elsewhere.

Pulling out his phone, Yan Li called Wang Wei—not only advising against taking it down, but actively suggesting Tudou. om sign Hu Ge.

Tudou. om's core business was user-generated videos—was there any creator with greater fame than Hu Ge right now?

Wang Wei wasn't a pushover—he never intended to take the video down; he just thought Yan Li had connections and hoped for a peaceful resolution.

Now, with Yan Li's encouragement, he went all in, immediately contacting Hu Ge to secure the entire traffic wave for Tudou. om.

Fan Xiaopang watched Yan Li's conversation with Wang Wei, sitting on his lap, pinching his nose in annoyance.

"You told me to register a Tudou account and post videos—I thought it was like blogging, some internet promotion. So you're a Tudou shareholder?"

"It's still internet promotion."

Yan Li replied confidently: "In America, there's a video site called YouTube—Hollywood studios spend big money there to promote their stars. Especially someone like you, who lives off your looks—video platforms are way stronger than blogs."

"Isn't Xu Jinglei the 'Blog Queen'? You'll be the 'Tudou Queen.'"

"Tudou Queen? Sounds like a greenhouse farmer."

Fan Xiaopang mocked him, but now she was curious about Tudou. om. Sitting on Yan Li's lap, she browsed the site.

At this stage, Tudou. om had relatively few users and a crude interface. Besides licensed and pirated TV shows and anime, most original videos were rough—often just DV-recorded clips uploaded directly.

Currently, Tudou. om's most popular video was the full series of "Sword of Valor."

After investing in Tudou. om, Yan Li had secured a batch of hit TV dramas, and Tudou began aggressively cracking down on piracy.

At this stage, eliminating piracy entirely was impossible—even Tudou itself wasn't clean.

But having legitimate copyright gave them far more leverage and enabled all kinds of maneuvers.

One of the most critical was targeting competitors.

Monitoring reposts, downloads, and resources was too hard and too time-consuming—Tudou focused squarely on other video sites. Even if rivals played dirty, they were still suppressed and affected.

A step behind competitors meant Tudou moved ahead. Leveraging this copyright advantage, Tudou, already growing well, experienced a small explosion—user numbers steadily rose.

Now, "A Steamed Bun Causing a Bloodbath" brought Tudou another massive wave of traffic.

If handled well, Tudou. om might become the leader in this nascent video website era.

The internet is a winner-takes-all industry—the earlier you lead, the more benefits you gain, and the less likely you'll be overtaken later.

Yan Li felt both pleased and slightly headachy.

The faster Tudou. om grew, the faster the money burned—those 8 million RMB might not last long; he'd likely need to launch an A-round funding soon.

For early-stage funding like angel and A-round rounds, the money invested is small but equity given is large—you should try to follow along if you can.

"Hard times are coming."

Yan Li sighed—a video site, a cinema chain, each one burned money like a damn furnace.

Fan Xiaopang didn't fully understand, but she grasped that Yan Li's next moves required heavy external investment—he'd have little personal cash left.

Hmm~

Fan Xiaopang lightly hooked her finger under Yan Li's chin: "Call me sister, and I might consider keeping you."

Yan Li smirked: "Keeping me is expensive."

"How expensive?"

"I'm used to spending lavishly—minimum 100, 00 yuan monthly pocket money, plus clothes and transportation, and I occasionally go out for dinners with friends, plus personal hobbies and stuff."

Yan Li slapped his thigh: "You're decent-looking—I'll give you a discount. Fifty thousand yuan a month."

"Can't afford it."

Fan Xiaopang got up and walked away—six million a year? Even diamonds wouldn't be worth it.

But after two steps, Yan Li grabbed her, threw her onto the bed, and she kicked him with her legs.

"I just took a shower!"

"Shower again. First, let you try living."

…

After that, every day Yan Li had to not only act in films and taste ice cream, but also go soothe Qin Lan.

This little woman had previously planned to pretend to reconcile while Yan Li was soothing her, then strike him hard—but Yan Li saw through it, turned her trick against her, and outright ruined a full set of bedding; moreover, it seemed Hu Siyan had noticed something.

She failed to steal the chicken and lost her rice besides, and suffered great humiliation—Qin Lan was furious and ashamed, and had been avoiding Yan Li these past few days.

Fortunately, the Wang Ou incident was mostly behind them; if Yan Li just kept soothing her, once Qin Lan calmed down, everything would be fine.

As previously mentioned, Qin Lan was outwardly tough but inwardly soft; sometimes she acted loud and brash, but in truth she was just a paper tiger. With patience, Yan Li could soothe her, and she'd just drift past it all.

On the surface, she was domineering—bullying Fan Xiaopang, mistreating Wang Ou.

But in reality, she tacitly accepted her relationship with Yan Li, even willing to collaborate on films; fundamentally, she kept compromising, lowering her bottom line again and again.

Even Qin Lan herself cursed herself for being weak-willed.

But there was no help for it—no matter how great her anger or resentment, the moment she saw Yan Li, it was already cut by a third; then, after this dog-man wheedled and bullied his way through her defenses, it faded away seven or eight tenths.

This was karma!

Thus, time arrived at the day before New Year's Day, and the annual intelligence report was about to trigger.

On New Year's Eve, Yan Li took a night off from the set, declined all dates, work, and social engagements, drove alone to Yi'an Garden, locked himself in his office, offered incense and offerings on a prepared altar to seek protection, and silently waited for midnight.

As soon as midnight struck, Yan Li eagerly opened the system and scrolled through each triggered annual intelligence report.

【Annual Intelligence 1: How Video Websites Became the "Supreme Emperor" of the Entertainment Industry……】

Yan Li could already discern much from both personal analysis and other intelligence details about what video websites represented to the cultural industry.

But this year's annual intelligence more systematically, comprehensively, and thoroughly explained to him the significance of video websites to the entire entertainment industry.

Previously, Yan Li had thought it would be great if he could start his own private television station.

These future video website platforms would become even more powerful than today's television stations.

Yan Li had previously paid attention to Tudou. om, but now he realized he should pay even more attention to it.

In fact… Yan Li considered whether he should find a way to seize control of Tudou. om.

But Yan Li quickly dismissed the idea.

Not to mention he had other priorities, but crucially, video websites were still in their infancy—he'd snatch Tudou. om now, wouldn't know how to operate or develop it, and might end up ruining it entirely.

This wasn't a joke—the intelligence had mentioned that during the fiercest early market battles, hundreds of video websites competed simultaneously.

Yan Li had his intelligence system, money, and resources; there was no need to jump in now. He'd wait until the market stabilized.

Still, he could make some preliminary moves—no matter how things turned out, he'd have a clear target.

【Annual Intelligence 2: The Price Surge of Film and TV Network Copyrights from 2006 to 2016…】

For Yan Li, who had already begun stockpiling network copyrights, the future appreciation of these rights was within his expectations—but he hadn't anticipated such a violent rise.

Of course, most of the astronomical contracts would still center on new dramas, but old dramas couldn't be ignored either.

Actual earnings plus intangible assets, accumulated bit by bit, still amounted to a massive fortune for Yan Li.

【Annual Intelligence 3: Gree China, the Stock with the Highest Dividend Ratio on the Chinese Market… Listed for 18 Years, Cumulative Dividends Total 125. Billion…】

Yan Li wasn't surprised to see stock intelligence in the annual report, but he hadn't expected it to focus on just one stock.

Gree—he knew it well, and had even bought its shares before.

Yan Li checked his computer: Gree's market cap yesterday stood at just over five billion.

The intelligence showed Gree's peak market cap reached over four hundred billion, with excellent prospects.

The most crucial point was Gree's generous dividends.

Many listed companies paid no dividends; shareholders could only profit by selling their shares.

Gree's strong dividends meant the principal remained untouched while the value kept rising, yet cash flowed in continuously.

From a corporate management perspective, such dividends weren't necessarily good for growth—but for shareholders and investors, this was undoubtedly an ethical enterprise.

Yan Li filed this intelligence under the category 【Divine Stock】.

This category contained all the stocks he'd quietly accumulated—those with high returns and worth holding long-term.

【Annual Intelligence 4: Director Talent Recommendations, Chen Jia, born January 6, 1960… Specializes in… Ye Weixin… Lin Chaoxian…】

Yan Li nearly cursed aloud upon reading this intelligence.

Did the system really need to recommend Chen Jia? He'd once been Zhou Xingchi's go-to director; though not quite on par with Hong Kong's top directors, he was still a renowned filmmaker.

Ye Weixin was slightly less famous, but far from unknown—he'd directed Sha Po Lang, and the BoNa production of Long Hu Men had also hired him as director.

In fact, among the Hong Kong directors Yan Li planned to collaborate with, he ranked among the top three.

As for Lin Chaoxian, Yan Li had little impression of him.

He searched online and found Lin had once worked with Chen Jia, directed a few films—his notable works were Wild Police and The Banquet—neither hugely popular, hence his limited fame; no wonder he hadn't noticed him.

Yan Li originally thought this intelligence was mediocre, but upon rereading, he noticed details he'd missed earlier.

The listed representative works of these directors had expanded significantly; some films even included descriptions—box office hits, critical acclaim, pioneering a certain genre, and so on.

Only then did Yan Li realize: this talent recommendation wasn't about their present status, but their future potential.

Directors weren't ordinary professions; few achieved early success—most spent years learning and honing their craft before gaining sufficient ability and experience.

Talent recommendations, excluding top-tier directors, must focus on those with some development but still below their peak—second- or third-tier directors.

Still, a drawback: whether due to Yan Li's closer ties with Hong Kong this year, all three recommended directors were from Hong Kong—none from mainland China.

【Annual Intelligence 5: Hunyuan Wuji Standing Post Skill, Selectively Absorbing the Finest Techniques from Various Schools… Regular Practice Strengthens the Body, Nourishes Essence, Enhances Spirit, Replenishes Kidneys, Activates Yang, Promotes Blood Circulation, and Fortifies Qi…】

Yan Li scratched his head—was the system trying to turn him into a little Superman?

Even now, dealing with one woman often left him satisfied but not fulfilled.

If he trained this health cultivation skill, even a weakling like Qin Lan might end up in the hospital one day—now that'd be funny.

Still, the system meant well, so Yan Li couldn't ignore it—if those women couldn't handle it, he'd sacrifice himself and allow them to seek outside help…

【Annual Intelligence…】

Yan Li stayed in the office until two a. . before leaving.

He wasn't sure if it was the incense location or just bad luck, but he felt this year's annual intelligence was slightly less valuable.

Still, it was annual intelligence—even if less powerful than before, it was packed with information, enough for Yan Li to digest and gain considerable benefits.

…

While Yan Li was still studying the newly acquired annual intelligence, time officially advanced to 2006.

Sina, Sohu, Southern Metropolis Daily, Tianya, and other portals, media outlets, and platforms released their summaries of the 2005 entertainment industry.

The most significant event in 2005's entertainment was Super Girl—a program that served as a milestone for the entertainment industry, the internet, and society as a whole.

Grassroots culture surged; Li Yuchun, a woman who defied traditional norms, became the most famous person of 2005—without exception.

In contrast to the grassroots Li Yuchun, celebrities like Han Han and Xu Jinglei rose to prominence with the rise of blogs, becoming alternative cultural elites distinct from mainstream channels.

Simultaneously, there was another unusual figure: Yan Li himself—born from the grassroots, yet leaning toward the elite.

Thanks to several blockbuster roles, multiple female stars' gossip scandals, and outstanding business acumen, Yan Li's presence in the 2005 entertainment industry was far from negligible.

His dual identity as grassroots and elite granted him both controversy and widespread recognition and admiration.

Even Forbes couldn't resist riding the wave.

Though they didn't rank him on the billionaire list, they created a so-called Top 10 80s Billionaires—Yan Li ranked among them with a net worth of 180 million.

Notably, Yan Li was one of the very few self-made young billionaires on the list.

The top-ranked Li Zhaohui was even younger than Yan Li, with assets exceeding ten billion, ranked twenty-sixth, and was the richest man in Shanxi Province.

But he owed everything to his father; Yan Li owed everything to himself—their value couldn't be compared.

More crucially, Yan Li was from entertainment—he had massive fame. Though his net worth was modest, his spotlight far overshadowed this twenty-something Shanxi tycoon.

After Forbes published this Top 10 80s Billionaires list, many media outlets immediately called Yi'an or Yan Li himself, asking for his opinion.

Yan Li accepted only one inquiry from a familiar journalist and expressed his dissatisfaction with Forbes.

"I don't know where they got their data, but it's completely inaccurate."

The journalist was used to this response—rich people quietly amass wealth—and asked: "Are you suggesting Forbes overestimated your assets and caused you trouble?"

"No, I think they underestimated my net worth and ignored my labor achievements."

Yan Li was genuinely annoyed—his cinema investments and acquisitions hadn't been finalized yet, and Forbes made his wealth look so "poor," as if deliberately undermining him.

Even if his actual wealth wasn't more than 180 million, he'd still have to inflate it.

The journalist's eyes lit up: "Could you possibly reveal your personal assets?"

"I haven't actually calculated it, but 180 million is definitely too low."

Blowing smoke was one thing, but inviting the tax bureau was unnecessary.

Yan Li gave no clear answer—his company accounts were clean, so if anyone investigated later, he could handle it.

Meanwhile, keeping things vague—everyone knew he was rich, but no one knew the exact figure—internally calmed partners, externally intimidated and confused rivals.

Yan Li's goal was business operations, with a little showmanship on the side.

But to the outside world, this showmanship wasn't ordinary—it was extraordinary.

————

PS: Busy today, will post ten thousand characters tomorrow

(End of Chapter)