Chapter 208: Entering 2006: The Top Ten Billionaires of the Post-80s Generation

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

As one of mainland China's leading directors who had previously made the masterpiece "Farewell My Concubine," Chen Daoyin's venture into a commercial blockbuster, with a budget of hundreds of millions and a star cast from China, Japan, and Korea, was eagerly anticipated by industry insiders and countless film fans.

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

And it wasn't just the mainland market—the studio targeted also the Asian markets of 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 a hundreds-of-millions investment; "The Promise" was aimed from the start at conquering Hollywood.

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 bad.

In seven days, it easily surpassed one hundred million yuan, setting new records for mainland opening day, opening week, single-day, and opening weekend box office.

In today's film market, "The Promise" was undoubtedly a standout phenomenon.

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

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

"Did Chen Daoyin really direct 'Farewell My Concubine'?"

Yan Li also took time to watch "The Promise"; whether from public opinion or the monthly intelligence reports he received, Yan Li knew this 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 money he'd ever spent in his life.

Yan Li even subconsciously kept thinking about "Farewell My Concubine," trying to trigger his intelligence system to verify whether Chen Daoyin had truly directed "Farewell My Concubine."

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 Daoyin and Zhang Yimou, both alumni of the same academy.

Yan Li knew several Beijing Film Academy students who considered appearing in Chen's or Zhang's films one of their career dreams.

But after watching "The Promise," at least Yan Li's filter for Chen Daoyin shattered into pieces; the only sliver remaining was anchored by "Farewell My Concubine."

In contrast to Yan Li's silence, Fan Xiaopang, who watched the film 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 looked 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; you can't say it's edible just because it's not that stinky."

"Eww~"

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 palace 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.

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

Guangxian's low-budget strategy was still relatively safer.

Hmm, Yan Li did the math himself for "The Promise," and the colder it got, the more he wished he could sleep with Chen Hong's heart.

Directly after 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 redeeming part of the entire film "The Promise" 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 a call came in.

Yan Li looked at the caller ID in surprise—it was Wang Wei from Tudou. com; what did he want?

Running out of money?

He'd just invested over eight million RMB; how could he possibly 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. com on his computer and quickly found a short video—

"A Steamed Bun That Caused a Bloodbath."

He clicked play, and as the video played, his smile grew wider and wider.

This netizen named Hu Ge was truly talented—he satirically dissected the plot of "The Promise" from a real-world perspective; Yan Li hadn't noticed it while watching the film, 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; Yan Li played it again for her, and she too couldn't help laughing.

"So ridiculous."

Yan Li explained that this video was now wildly popular online, with nearly a million views on Tudou alone and being endlessly forwarded.

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 a cease-and-desist notice demanding the video's removal."

Although the video was now circulating everywhere online, Tudou was its original source of explosion, the platform with the highest view count and greatest influence, drawing continuous waves of curious netizens.

Tudou's Wang Wei coveted this massive traffic surge and didn't want to take it down, but some of the editing did involve copyright infringement.

So he wanted Yan Li to intervene and see if he could mediate.

"Will Chen Daoyin give you this much face?"

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

"He can give it or not."

Yan Li had no intention of getting involved; if "The Promise" claimed infringement, was there even a clear legal basis?

Fine, sue me—if I lose, I'll take it down; if worse comes to worst, let "netizens" upload it again, then "deal with it" slowly, drag it out.

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

The whole internet is riding this wave; if Tudou gives up this heat and traffic, they're fools.

If it were Yan Li, it would be an obvious lawsuit against Wu Ji—a perfect advertisement; even if he lost and had to pay, he'd long since recouped countless times over elsewhere.

Pulling out his phone, Yan Li called Wang Wei, not only advising against taking down the video, but even proactively suggesting that Tudou. com should sign Hu Ge.

One of Tudou. com's main businesses is user-generated videos—is there any creator now more famous than Hu Ge?

Wang Wei wasn't a pushover; he never intended to take down the video from the start, merely thought Yan Li had connections and wanted a more peaceful resolution.

Now, with Yan Li stirring things up, he'd had enough—he immediately contacted Hu Ge, planning to keep the entire wave of traffic for Tudou. com.

Fan Xiaopang watched Yan Li and Wang Wei's conversation, sitting on his lap, huffing as she pinched Yan Li's nose.

"You told me to register an account on Tudou. com and post videos—I thought it was like a blog, just internet promotion. So you're a shareholder of Tudou. com?"

"It's still internet promotion."

Yan Li replied confidently: "In America, there's a video site called YouTube—Hollywood entertainment companies specifically spend money there to promote their artists, especially someone like you who lives off your looks. Video media is far superior to blogs."

"Isn't Xu Jinglei the queen of blogs? Then you're the queen of Tudou."

"Queen of Tudou? Sounds like someone who builds greenhouses."

Fan Xiaopang mocked, but now she grew interested in Tudou. com; sitting in Yan Li's lap, she browsed the site.

At this stage, Tudou. com didn't have many users yet, and the website was quite basic; besides those legitimate and pirated TV dramas and animations, most user-generated videos were crude—even just raw footage shot on a DV and uploaded.

Currently, the most popular video on Tudou. com was the complete set of "Bright Sword."

After Yan Li invested in Tudou. com, the site acquired a batch of hit TV dramas and began actively cracking down on piracy.

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

But having legitimate copyright meant having stronger leverage than none at all, and enabled all kinds of maneuvers.

One of them was especially critical: targeting competitors.

Managing reposts, downloads, and resources was too hard and too labor-intensive; Tudou. com focused solely on other video websites—even if opponents played dirty or pulled all sorts of tricks, they still faced suppression and impact.

When competitors lagged one step, Tudou moved ahead one step; leveraging this copyright wave, Tudou. com—which was already developing well—experienced a small explosion, with users gradually increasing.

And now, "A Steamed Bun Triggering a Bloodbath" brought Tudou another massive wave of traffic.

If handled well, Tudou. com might become the leader in this nascent era of video websites.

The internet is an industry where the winner takes all; the earlier you lead, the greater the benefits, and the lower the chance you'll be surpassed later.

Yan Li felt both pleased and slightly headachy.

The faster Tudou. com grew, the faster the money burned—those 8 million yuan might not last long; he guessed he'd soon need to launch a Series A round.

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

"Hard times are coming."

Yan Li sighed—a video website, a cinema chain, one after another, damn, they all burned money.

Fan Xiaopang was confused, didn't fully understand the situation, but grasped that Yan Li's subsequent funding would require heavy external investment, leaving him personally with little cash.

Hmph~

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

Yan Li smirked: "Keeping me is expensive."

"How expensive could it be?"

"I'm used to spending lavishly—I need at least a hundred thousand yuan a month for pocket money, plus separate allowances for clothes and transportation, and I occasionally go out for dinners with friends, plus I've got a few little hobbies and whatnot."

Yan Li slapped his thigh: "You look decent enough—I'll give you a discount. Fine, fifty thousand yuan a month."

"Can't afford it."

Fan Xiaopang got up and walked away—six million yuan a year? Even if you carved her out of diamond, it wouldn't be worth it.

But after just two steps, Yan Li picked her up and tossed her onto the bed; Fan Xiaopang kicked her legs wildly at him.

"I just took a shower."

"Shower again. First, let you try being alive."

…

Afterward, Yan Li spent each day filming, tasting ice, and tasting ice again, while also having to soothe Qin Lan.

That little bitch had planned to pretend to reconcile while he was soothing her, then strike him hard—but Yan Li saw through it, turned her trick against her, ruined a whole set of bedding, and it seemed Hu Siyan had sensed something.

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

Fortunately, the Wang Ou incident was mostly over; if Yan Li soothed her a bit more, once Qin Lan calmed down, it'd be fine.

As previously mentioned, Qin Lan was outwardly tough but inwardly soft; sometimes she acted loud and brash, but she was just a paper tiger. With Yan Li's patience, she'd just muddle through it all.

On the surface, she was domineering, harsh with Fan Xiaopang, and bullied Wang Ou.

But in truth, she tacitly accepted her relationship with Yan Li—even willing to collaborate on films—essentially compromising again and again, lowering her bottom line further and further.

Even Qin Lan herself cursed herself for being weak.

But what could she do? No matter how furious or resentful she was, seeing Yan Li immediately cut her anger by a third; then, after this dog-man wheedled and bullied her with nonsense, it faded away seven or eight tenths.

This was karma!

Thus, time arrived at the day before New Year's Eve—the annual 【Annual Intelligence】 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 for protection, and silently waited for midnight.

As soon as midnight struck, Yan Li eagerly opened the system and scrolled through each triggered Annual Intelligence.

【Annual Intelligence 1: How a Video Website Becomes the 'Supreme Emperor' of the Entertainment Industry…】

What video websites represented to the cultural and entertainment industry, Yan Li could already infer much from both personal analysis and other intelligence details.

But this Annual Intelligence systematically, comprehensively, and thoroughly explained to him the significance of video websites to the entire entertainment industry.

Previously, Yan Li had once thought: if only I could run my own private TV station.

And these future video platform platforms would become even more powerful than today's TV stations.

Yan Li had previously valued Tudou. com, but now it seemed he should value it even more.

In fact, Yan Li considered whether he should find a way to take control of Tudou. com.

But Yan Li quickly dismissed the idea.

Not to mention he had other projects of his own; the key point was that video websites were still in their infancy—he seized Tudou. com, didn't know how to operate or develop it, and ended up ruining it—that would be funny.

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

Yan Li had an intelligence system, money, and resources—he didn't need to jump in now; he could wait until the market stabilized somewhat.

Still, he could make some preliminary moves—no matter what happened later, he'd have a clear target.

【Annual Intelligence 2: 2006~2016, film and television network copyright prices surged hundreds of times…】

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

Of course, most of the astronomical contracts were still for new dramas, but old dramas couldn't be underestimated.

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

【Annual Intelligence 3: Gree, the stock with the highest dividend ratio on China's stock market… listed for eighteen years, cumulative dividends reached 125.2 billion…】

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

Gree—he knew it well; he'd even bought its stock before.

Yan Li opened his computer and checked: Gree's market cap yesterday was just over five billion.

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

The most crucial point was that Gree paid out dividends exceptionally generously.

Many listed companies didn't pay dividends at all; shareholders could only profit by cashing out their shares.

Gree's heavy dividends meant the principal remained untouched while the value kept rising, and money flowed in continuously along the way.

From a corporate management perspective, such dividends—superior to reinvestment for growth—weren't necessarily a good thing, but for shareholders and investors, it was undoubtedly a conscientious enterprise.

Yan Li filed this intelligence under 【Divine Stock】.

This category contained all the stocks he'd quietly accumulated over time—high-yield, high-quality, worth holding long-term.

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

Yan Li nearly cursed out loud upon seeing this intelligence.

Do you need the system to recommend this? Chen Jiashang was once Zhou Xingchi's go-to director; though not quite on par with Hong Kong's top directors, he was still a renowned one.

Ye Weixin had slightly less fame, but he wasn't unknown—he directed *Sha Po Lang*, and the BoNa production *Dragon and Tiger Gate* also hired him as director.

In fact, on Yan Li's own shortlist of Hong Kong directors he planned to collaborate with, he ranked among the top three.

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

He searched online and found Lin had once worked under Chen Jiashang, directed a few films—his notable works were *Wild Police* and *The Gangster's Confession*, neither of which were huge hits, hence his limited fame; no wonder he hadn't noticed him.

Yan Li originally thought this intelligence was mediocre, but after reviewing it again, he noticed details he'd missed earlier.

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

Only then did Yan Li realize: this talent recommendation wasn't recommending them as they were now, but their "future."

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

Talent recommendations, excluding top-tier directors, had to focus on those with some development but hadn't yet reached their career peaks—second- or third-tier directors.

Still, the downside was that, perhaps because Yan Li had been closely connected with Hong Kong this past year, all three candidates were Hong Kong directors—none from mainland China.

【Annual Intelligence 5: Hunyuan Wuji Standing Practice, meticulously refined from the essence of various standing practices… diligent practice strengthens the body, nourishes essence, lifts 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?

Right now, even one woman couldn't fully satisfy him; many times she only teased him without delivering.

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

Still, the system meant well, and Yan Li didn't want to disappoint 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 his office until 2 a. m. before leaving.

He wasn't sure if it was the incense-burning 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 substantial 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 undeniable phenomenon of 2005's entertainment was *Super Girl*—this program served as a milestone for the entertainment industry, the internet, and society as a whole.

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

In contrast to the more grassroots Li Yuchun, celebrities like Han Han and Xu Jinglei, as blogs rose in popularity, each gained massive fame, becoming alternative cultural elites distinct from traditional mainstream channels.

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

Thanks to several Blockbuster Work roles, gossip scandals with multiple actresses, 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.

Although they didn't rank Yan Li on the billionaire list, they created a so-called Top Ten 80s Billionaires—Yan Li, with a net worth of 180 million, made the list.

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

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

But he owed his wealth to his father; Yan Li owed his to himself—the value wasn't comparable.

More crucially, Yan Li was from the entertainment industry—he had massive fame; despite his modest net worth, his spotlight far overshadowed this twenty-something Shanxi billionaire.

After Forbes released this Top Ten 80s Billionaires list, many media outlets immediately called Yi An or Yan Li himself to ask 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 reporter was used to this kind of talk—keep your head down and get rich—so he played along and asked, "Are you saying that Forbes overestimating your assets has caused you trouble?"

"No, I think they underestimated my net worth and ignored the fruits of my labor."

Yan Li really wasn't too happy. The cinema investment and acquisition and whatnot hadn't been arranged yet, so Forbes making his net worth look so "shabby"—were they trying to undermine him?

Not to mention Yan Li's net worth was never just 180 million to begin with; even if it hadn't been underestimated, he still had to inflate it upward.

The reporter's eyes lit up: "Then would Boss Yan be willing to reveal what his personal assets are?"

"I haven't actually calculated it either, but 180 million is indeed a bit low."

Blowing hot air is one thing, but blowing the tax bureau in would be unnecessary.

Yan Li wouldn't give a clear answer; the company's accounts were clean, so even if someone came to audit later, he could handle it.

At the same time, mixing truth with falsehood—people only knew he was rich, but not the specific amount—internally it could reassure business partners, externally it could intimidate and confuse competitors.

Yan Li's purpose was for business operations, with a small flex thrown in on the side.

But to the outside world, this flex was no ordinary one.

————

PS: Got things to do today, will do a ten-thousand-word update tomorrow

(End of chapter)