Chapter 217: Experiencing Yan Li: A Generation

At the end of March, The Legend of Xue Rengui was officially wrapped.

This was Yan Li's first lead role in a drama centered entirely on him, and also the longest and most demanding role he had ever played.

He found many scenes enjoyable to shoot, though some were exhausting; now that filming was over, Yan Li reflected and felt the overall experience was quite good.

The crew arranged a wrap party, but Yan Li began gathering and packing the props he wanted.

Two sets of Xue Rengui's armor.

One was the white-robed young general version, elegant and dashing; the other was the later armor of the General-in-Chief of the Western Campaign, still primarily silver-white but far more ornate and exquisite.

One Fangtian Huaji spear, one set of divine bows—these were custom-made weapons specially crafted for the lead role by the crew.

The divine bow appeared only later in the drama, with limited screen time; during filming, since it only required holding and gesturing, they made just one.

The crew, however, had two Fangtian Huaji spears.

One was the authentic version, meticulously crafted, with a metal spearhead and a solid wood shaft, weighing nearly twenty catties, primarily used for close-ups and dialogue scenes.

The other was a counterfeit, made mostly of rubber, wood, and some metal, much lighter, used mainly for long shots and action sequences.

There was no choice: Yan Li could handle the nearly twenty-catty Fangtian Huaji and wield it, but filming action scenes all day long drained too much energy.

More critically, it was too heavy to control properly—if he lost his grip during filming and the ten-catty metal head struck another actor's head…

Yan Li had looked it up: involuntary manslaughter carried a sentence of three to seven years; if the circumstances were relatively minor, less than three years…

In addition, Yan Li kept several other nice small props from the crew.

The Legend of Xue Rengui spent heavily on costumes, makeup, and props, so the quality was high and had some collectible value.

Finally, there were two horses.

In the drama, Xue Rengui's early mount was played by Sai Long; later, after being gifted by Princess Zhao Yang, he rode Bai Long, the white horse, exclusively.

Yan Li bought both horses and planned to contact a stable in Jingcheng before heading there.

But Yan Li thought these two horses had performance experience; keeping them purely as pets felt wasteful, and he planned to explore training them further as "horse actors," possibly launching two "celebrity horses."

Seeing Yan Li enthusiastically selecting props, several other actors also grew interested and wanted to keep something as a memento.

After filming, film and TV crews handle props and costumes in various ways: resale, auction, retention, donation, destruction, etc.

Lead actors keeping items as mementos is a common practice; sometimes they're sold at low prices, sometimes free, but quantities are always limited.

Today, Yan Li gave permission for them to take whatever they wanted for free, but only items belonging to their own characters—otherwise, male and female actors swapping randomly would cause chaos.

Although Yan Li told them to take freely, the actors all had sense; most took only one or two items.

Taking too much not only looked greedy and made them look bad, but also made luggage impossible to pack.

Yan Li, a wealthy man, arranged for a truck to ship everything from Hengdian back to Jingcheng; the actors couldn't afford such luxury—their salaries were barely enough.

After selecting props, everyone prepared for the wrap party; some, like Tong Dawei, came to say they'd leave early.

"In such a hurry?"

"Director Zhao Baogang's new drama is about to start; I won't be able to take time off later. Hua-jie told me to finish up my personal matters before filming begins."

Tong Dawei explained: though he'd previously worked with Wang Jinghua at Huayi and later at Chengtian, he was closer to Hai Run and Zhao Baogang's Xin Bao Yuan.

His breakthrough role, Jade Guanyin, was a Hai Run production.

The recently aired Days of Youth was backed by Ye Jing and Wang Shuo, who also had convoluted ties to Zhao Baogang and Wang Jinghua.

Zhao Baogang's new drama, Struggle, attracted much attention; he personally cast Tong Dawei as the male lead and locked him in the moment the project was greenlit.

"Alright, go ahead and take care of it. We'll reunite in Jingcheng."

Yan Li nodded; Tong Dawei, a popular young actor, came to play a supporting role in The Legend of Xue Rengui purely out of respect for Yan Li, and Dong Xuan was a close friend—between them, formality wasn't necessary.

Tong Dawei could leave early, but Yan Li couldn't.

The producer and executive producer could skip it, but as the male lead, his absence from the wrap party would be unthinkable.

Yan Li was used to it: every wrap party, he was inevitably toasted repeatedly and couldn't dodge it—he'd prepped anti-hangover pills and brought two drinking buddies with strong tolerance.

Just do it!

At the hotel, Yan Li and the director were pulled around for toasts and speeches; Jiang Xin, seated separately from the crew due to special circumstances, clapped along while distracted, wrestling with inner turmoil.

Today's the wrap, the final day—should she go through with it or not?!

Not just today—this entire period, Jiang Xin had been torn between doing it and not doing it.

Personal moral pressure, betrayal of Dong Xuan's friendship, Yan Li's cold indifference—all these factors restrained her impulse.

But giving up entirely left her unwilling.

Jiang Xin admitted she had some affection for Yan Li.

He was a young, handsome talent; aside from being a bit flirtatious, his qualities were excellent—most women would feel some flutter upon encountering him.

Just like a man encountering a top-tier goddess who's beautiful, wealthy, and kind, and with whom he gets along well.

Most people, even knowing she's a player, still wonder if they could win her affection; the weak-willed even settle for being a backup or a rebound.

Yet while Jiang Xin had affection for Yan Li, her current actions were driven more by practical considerations.

The Legend of the Heavenly Dragon, Huan Tian Xi Di Seven Fairies, and the currently hot The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng had given her some fame, but she was still far from becoming a superstar.

At least from the scripts her company offered her, few were impressive, and the pay was underwhelming.

Jiang Xin knew: with her momentum from these hit roles, she had real potential to rise further.

But that required steady, continued resources—if they dried up, and she ended up in obscure dramas, she'd vanish into obscurity.

There were too many such examples in the entertainment industry.

Within one or two years, whether by luck or talent, landing a few good dramas, gaining some fame, then failing to sustain it—within a year or two, they'd be back to square one.

Why do actors in this industry fight so hard to become famous? Because if you're not famous enough, audiences and insiders won't remember you.

Even if you become famous enough to be remembered, if you're not consistently famous, you'll slowly fade—work, income, status all plummet.

Especially for actresses, time is critical; once older, trying to climb higher becomes exponentially harder.

Why is "late bloomer" a celebrated phrase in this circle? Because there are so few of them.

Jiang Xin has developed well over the past couple of years; landing the role of Mu Wanqing in *The Legend of the Condor Heroes* was crucial, and she also has a benefactor behind her.

That's right, she does have a benefactor—at least some people think so—and her benefactor is Yan Li.

Otherwise, how do you explain her consistently appearing in multiple Yi An dramas?

Friends?

How could a female actress possibly be just friends with that bastard Yan?

Jiang Xin hasn't yet sparked any major gossip with Yan Li—she simply lacks enough fame, and during those few dramas, Shuang Bing and Dong Xuan were in front of her.

Even so, she still can't escape suspicion and rumors.

Jiang Xin doesn't care about such suspicions; if he's a benefactor, then he's a benefactor—anyone who refuses to cling to such a rare big leg is an idiot.

With Yan Li, she may never land the female lead, but she'll always get supporting roles in hot productions; even if her future growth is limited, at least she won't fade out.

But Jiang Xin herself is willing—yet things rarely go as planned.

Yan Li has frequently cast Jiang Xin, Yang Xue, and the other Seven Fairies in his recent dramas, largely because they're familiar, get along well, and it's better to use someone you know than a stranger.

But that was before; as Yan Li's career grows larger and his circle expands, more and more actresses are eager to climb onto his coattails.

Moreover, Yi An has begun its own talent agency business and will increasingly favor its own true insiders.

The entertainment industry is brutally practical: if you don't sleep with him and don't make him money,

why should he promote you?

Even if Yan Li is sentimental, Jiang Xin only takes and gives nothing—there will come a day when his goodwill runs out.

Once her relationship with Yan Li begins to cool, and her access to resources dries up, her career will stall and regress.

So Jiang Xin now has few choices: either accept it, find a higher branch to cling to, or find a way to draw closer to Yan Li.

Accept it?

If luck turns bad and her career stalls, she'll slog through a few mediocre years, grow older, find a partner, marry, have kids—and if family ties bind her, she might quit the industry entirely.

Jiang Xin refuses to let her prime youth be wasted like this.

Find a higher branch?

Yi An is one of the fastest-rising companies in the industry right now—why abandon the melon for a sesame seed? And who knows if that sesame seed might have its own hidden rules?

Just imagining those bloated, old, ugly men leering at her makes Jiang Xin feel genuine revulsion.

She glanced over at Yan Li, surrounded by people raising glasses to him, radiant and triumphant, then poured herself a small glass of wine and drank it in one gulp.

Then there's only one choice left!

…

"Director Yan, thank you for all your support—I toast you."

Jiang Xin toasted Yan Li; he was used to it and took a sip in return.

"Take care after wrap-up. Let's get together again when you have time."

Jiang Xin nodded, chatted with him a few more words, and as she left, slipped a business card into his hand.

"It has my contact info and my agent's email—if you have a role, don't forget me."

He already had her phone number and her agent's contact!

Yan Li unconsciously pressed the card with his fingers—it felt thicker, the back was stiff. He slipped it into his pocket, planning to sneak a look later.

Hmm—the card's underside was a room key.

This woman's bold—slipping in a room key? You sneak it somewhere private, not shove it during a public toast—what if someone sees?

He said nothing, kept drinking, but Jiang Xin, quietly watching from the side, grew anxious.

Why no reaction?

And if Yan Li drinks more, he'll be drunk—will he even remember the room number?!

Jiang Xin didn't know what to do—she couldn't just rush up and stop him from drinking; who was she, anyway?

So she helplessly watched Yan Li, drunk and stumbling, being carried off by his driver and assistant—and for a moment, she even wondered if he was using this to politely reject her.

But that didn't seem right!

Though this was her first time slipping him a room key, she'd laid groundwork before—flirtatious jokes, playful touches, all of it.

From what she knew of Yan Li, he was clearly no coward who only talked big but never acted.

Just as she was puzzled, her phone vibrated—a text from Yan Li.

【I'm back at the hotel.】

Without hesitation, Jiang Xin grabbed her bag and left, hailed a cab, and rushed back to the hotel—only to find her own room empty.

After thinking for a moment, she slipped quietly to Yan Li's door, knocked a few times, and the door opened.

Yan Li, freshly showered, was wrapped in a towel, wiping his hair with a Mao Jin—he let her in.

Jiang Xin didn't foolishly ask why he wasn't in her room; she glanced at his strong, sculpted muscles, pursed her lips, and reached for the Mao Jin in his hand.

"Let me dry your hair."

"Alright."

Yan Li handed her the Mao Jin, then sat on the sofa, enjoying Jiang Xin's service.

Jiang Xin dried his hair thoroughly; because he wore a cap, his hair wasn't long, so after wiping, it was already mostly dry—no need for a hairdryer.

After drying his hair, Jiang Xin hesitated, then wiped his body—he'd just bathed, and water still glistened on his skin.

Yan Li let her move as she pleased—raised his arms when told, turned when asked—until her wiping covered his upper body, then he raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"Still wiping?"

"Yes!"

Jiang Xin declared firmly—she'd come this far, why hesitate? She unfastened his towel—and froze, stunned.

It's a shame Yan Li doesn't play *The Legend of the Condor Heroes*—he's already brought his own prop.

When Jiang Xin finished her chores, Yan Li suddenly had a black veil in his hand—Jiang Xin was baffled.

"What's this mean?"

Yan Li reached out and covered half her face with the black veil, then fondled her cheeks with satisfaction.

"Though I like Qiao Feng, playing Duan Yu once isn't bad."

Only then did Jiang Xin understand—she was both exasperated and amused by Yan Li's mischief.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Yan-Duan-Yu-Li's Six Meridian Sword struck, then he activated the Northern Dark Divine Art—under its power, Jiang Xin was utterly routed, her defenses shattered.

Seven Fairies (5/7)

————

Jiang Xin woke the next day to her phone ringing; drowsy, she answered—it was her agent asking when she'd return to Beijing after wrapping.

"Yeah, the director wants reshoots—I'll be back tomorrow… the day after tomorrow."

Jiang Xin glanced at the empty room, unsure where Yan Li had gone, but it didn't stop her from deciding to stay a few more days.

No special reason—mainly to solidify their bond; Yan Li hadn't promised her anything yet.

Wait—Yan Li hadn't promised her anything at all?!

Jiang Xin suddenly realized: last night, half-asleep, she'd been dragged into Dali's civil war and forgotten the real purpose.

Still, she soon calmed—Yan Li had always taken care of friends, and now that their relationship had deepened, he'd surely not let her down.

Thinking this, Jiang Xin lay back on the bed and fell soundly asleep again.

Jiang Xin didn't see Yan Li again until night—he'd been busy at Yi'an Garden.

"The Legend of Xue Rengui" was nearly wrapped; "The Great Qing Imperial Harem" was close too—plenty of follow-up work remained.

Meanwhile, the Phoenix-Dragon War outside raged fiercely, distribution efforts were in full swing, and Yan Li had to oversee many critical contracts; not working overtime was already a favor to Jiang Xin.

Though they'd become intimate, perhaps due to profit-driven motives or Dong Xuan's presence, Jiang Xin still felt slightly awkward around Yan Li.

Yan Li, however, was natural—he wrapped his arm around Jiang Xin's slightly plump waist and bluntly laid out his plans for her.

This fall, Yi'an's project will launch "The Legend of Chu Liuxiang" and "The Legend of Yang Yuhuan"—Jiang Xin has suitable roles to consider.

Besides that, if any other dramas have fitting parts, he'd keep an eye out for her.

Jiang Xin was slightly dissatisfied—she wanted a clear, major role—but dared not speak up.

Her biggest chip was already on the table; she had no leverage left to bargain.

If she expressed discontent and angered Yan Li, the worst outcome was a clean break—he didn't lack for women.

Jiang Xin wasn't good at hiding her thoughts; Yan Li quickly sensed her feelings.

A bit greedy—but understandable!

Women who partnered with Yan Li for profit—Wang Ou, Wu Jiani, Huang Shengyi—were all low-level actresses or students, easily satisfied by his resources and money, even overfed.

As for the two Bings, it was originally an exchange of interests, mutual benefit; later, they became tightly bound or cooperative, with resources fully supplied by Yan Li—no complaints.

Seeing Huo Siyan didn't crave many resources—she just wanted Yan Li as her shield.

Only Jiang Xin was already doing well and came seeking premium resources; Yan Li's casual arrangements might not suffice.

But Yan Li wouldn't just hand her more just because she was dissatisfied—he needed to see her sincerity first.

In looks, Jiang Xin wasn't top-tier.

But in figure, she was full-figured, tall, and exuded charm.

Most importantly, she was durable—nearly matching Fan Xiaopang's Xiao Yanzhi.

As for Li Bingbing's Beautiful She-Wolf, Yan Li thought she was just old, crazy, and stubbornly defiant—her actual strength paled beside Fan's and Jiang's.

Thinking of this, Yan Li felt a fresh itch.

Wang Ou was a little seductress with endless tricks, excellent at lighting fires—but couldn't put them out; Yan Li had to turn to Jiang Xin.

Feeling Yan Li's hands change, Jiang Xin's face paled: "Again?"

She stayed to strengthen their bond, but not every day—she'd slept half the day, still not recovered.

"You forgot—you kept feeding me to replenish my body. Now that it's restored, we must act."

Yan Li lifted Jiang Xin in a bridal carry—yesterday was Dali's civil war, today was Jin Zha's campaign against the Four Fairies…

…

Jiang Xin stayed in Hengdian for three days before leaving, both relieved and reluctant.

Though Yan Li hadn't promised her a major role, he said he'd consider it.

He also gave her 200,000 yuan under the guise of compensating for clothes she'd ruined.

When Jiang Xin learned this, her emotions were complex.

At this stage, Jiang Xin's income wasn't bad—but not high; for "The Legend of Xue Rengui," with few scenes and a guest role, her fee was only around 100,000 yuan, which had to be split with her agency and taxed.

Yet Yan Li handed her 200,000 yuan outright—extra money, no strings attached, beyond any promised resources.

From now on, she truly had a benefactor…

Two days after Jiang Xin left, Wang Ou wrapped "The Great Qing Imperial Harem" and openly stayed in Hengdian as Yan Li's personal assistant.

Yang Rong wrapped "The Legend of Xue Rengui," stayed in Hengdian to keep Wang Ou company for a few days, then left only after Wang Ou went to see Yan Li.

To be honest, if not for his system, Yan Li would suspect Wang Ou was secretly arranging a romance between him and Yang Rong.

No idea how Wang Ou did it—but Yang Rong acted like her little wife.

Wang Ou claimed Yang Rong did this of her own will, but wouldn't reveal the real reason behind it.

Still, even without her confession, Yan Li's system could piece together most of it.

But Yan Li couldn't understand Yang Rong's logic—she did nothing, just listened and gathered gossip for amusement; even a pervert like him thought this girl was twisted.

Meanwhile, during Yan Li's stay in Hengdian, "The Legend of the Condor Heroes" finally aired its season finale.

Compared to earlier episodes, controversy in this drama's later stages shifted from the male lead to the female lead.

In the early stages, Huang Xiaoming forcibly acted youthful, provoking widespread dislike, but in the later stages, Yang Guo matured and grew world-weary, his character deep and deliberately aloof—entering Huang Xiaoming's comfort zone—and public opinion reversed.

Liu Tianxian, by contrast, received considerable praise early on for her stunning costume and cold, ethereal demeanor.

But as the plot progressed, Long Nü experienced more and more, transforming from "immortal" to human, requiring deeper emotional expression; Liu Tianxian's immature acting flaws were exposed, and Long Nü became "Little Wood Girl," drawing widespread criticism.

Fortunately, Liu's face and costume design still held up, and Long Nü's character was naturally reserved and taciturn.

Most viewers had low expectations for acting—just enough to stay in character, not break immersion—and so Liu's overall reception was still far better than Huang's.

Beyond the lead roles, certain plotlines and fight choreography also faced heavy criticism, and the drama was once considered Zhang Dahu's worst work.

Zhang Dahu himself didn't care much.

Aside from The Legend of the Condor Heroes, every new drama he launched was called his worst work—he'd long grown used to it.

Black-and-famous, his Jin Yong adaptations always drew scathing criticism yet remained wildly popular.

This time, The Return of the Condor Heroes was even more extreme: riding the wave of the Phoenix vs. Condor battle, the drama's reputation was black, but its viewership burned purple.

With a national average viewership rating of 6.74%, it surpassed The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng and temporarily claimed the annual satellite TV viewership crown, outperforming both The Legend of the Condor Heroes and The Legend of the Condor Heroes.

Local channels airing it sequentially also saw astonishing ratings—ratings of over ten percent were considered unremarkable.

The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng was the same; the two dramas competed like rivals.

Today you dominate Sichuan and Chongqing, tomorrow I sweep Northeast China, the day after that Jingchu region adores the Condor Hero, and the day after that Min-Zhe regions spread tales of Gu Long's martial world.

Even more, the popularity of both dramas boosted sales of the original Jin Yong and Gu Long novels.

According to one publisher's statistics, sales of both books rose 190% compared to before the dramas aired.

Yan Li heard these news stories every day, but never felt them viscerally.

Only when returning to his hometown to visit his parents after coming back from Hengdian did he see a group of kids splitting into Ximen Chuixue and Yang Guo, fighting with sticks—and only then did he vaguely realize these two dramas might become a generation's childhood memory.

Yan Li rolled down his window and smiled at the playing children, just as he himself had once fiercely argued as a child over which Saint Seiya was strongest.

He'd even done silly things like shouting "Pegasus Meteor Fist!" and swinging sticks to settle it.

Looking back now, it was unforgettable…

"Oh shit, kid, don't stab the eye with Lingxi Finger—you'll blind him!"

————

PS: If I can't finish this 10,000-character chapter before 8 AM, I'll post another one before midnight.

(End of Chapter)