Chapter 224: Perfect Lover Template: Loyal and Thoughtful Ou Ou

Although The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng and The Return of the Condor Heroes both concluded their initial broadcasts, reruns and regional channel airings still left April's TV market dominated by these two dramas.

After a period of buildup, the actors from both dramas kept appearing in public, with their fame and influence rising sharply.

Zhang Zhilin from The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng surged to become one of the most popular Xiangjiang actors in today's TV market.

He was also lucky—Zhang Weijian, who had previously led Xiangjiang actors on the mainland, suffered considerable setbacks due to his deep involvement in the assault scandal from The Smiling, Proud Wanderer.

Meanwhile, Zhang Zhilin's breakout from The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng perfectly coincided with this gap.

Although the two Zhangs have different acting styles, Zhang Zhilin's image is better—he has played comedies too, and his Lu Xiaofeng carried a touch of wit and humor, flexible between solemnity and levity, quickly earning favor from many TV stations and production teams.

As previously mentioned, Xiangjiang people favor in-group loyalty; many Xiangjiang directors and producers who came north particularly prefer hiring Xiangjiang actors.

If the actor is also recognized by the market, TV stations, and investors, they're even more eager to use them.

So after Zhang Zhilin became popular, his acting contracts far outnumbered endorsement deals.

At his peak, he could receive three or four scripts per day, all as the lead, with substantial pay.

Yi An, who held Zhang Zhilin's three-year mainland agency contract, originally wanted to help him earn more from commercial endorsements.

But later, he realized filming dramas earned more than ads, and Zhang Zhilin himself was more passionate about acting.

After some discussion, they adjusted strategy—accepting only short, quick, high-return ads to free up time and directly schedule Zhang Zhilin into productions.

Yi An didn't exploit him to exhaustion for profit; he carefully selected high-paying roles with decent quality to maintain Zhang Zhilin's popularity.

To put it simply, Zhang Zhilin's potential is high—he's poised to succeed Zhang Weijian as the top Xiangjiang actor on mainland TV.

If their cooperation remains smooth, it's not impossible to renew the contract after three years; in fact, given current trends, the likelihood is very high.

Zhang Zhilin isn't foolish—he saw how fast Yi An rose and how rich his mainland resources were; why would he stubbornly stick with Wang Mojing's grueling grind when he had a solid, cooperative big leg to cling to?

And as mentioned earlier, Wang Mojing's Zedong Film offered him only so much.

Since Zhang Zhilin might become a long-term money tree, they couldn't over-harvest him—they needed sustainability.

As for Ren Quan, the other breakout star of The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng, he didn't seize this chance to take on numerous roles or endorsements.

Aside from The White-Haired Witch, he only took one ancient costume drama, then got busy… opening a restaurant.

He had started investing in food services long before he became famous, later founding and investing in a Sichuan-style chain restaurant called Shu Di La Zi Yu.

Notably, Ren Quan's business partner is precisely Li Xuetao's father-in-law.

Yes, the father of Li Lin from Huan Tian Xi Di Qi Xian Nu.

When they filmed The White-Haired Witch, there was a bit of awkwardness—Li's father and Ren Quan had clashed over business, once parted ways, each running their own operation, merely sharing the same brand name.

Now, Li's father's business is struggling, while Ren Quan, thanks to his strong management skills and celebrity effect, sees his restaurant thriving.

So while other stars, after The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng's success, focused on filming more dramas and earning more money, Ren Quan thought of using this opportunity to attract investment and expand operations.

He even studied whether he could combine his restaurant or dishes with Hua Manlou to ride the wave of popularity.

In contrast, the male and female leads of The Return of the Condor Heroes were more normal—and even hotter.

Zhang Zhilin and Ren Quan are older, aged 71 and 73 respectively, both past 30; the former is married, the latter "distracted."

Huang Xiaoming and Liu Tianxian, however, are in their prime and youth, both officially single, and rooted in the entertainment industry—naturally more sought after.

At the time, due to controversies surrounding The Return of the Condor Heroes, both leads also became embroiled in public opinion storms.

But since these weren't fatal negative rumors, this high-intensity exposure actually boosted their fame to some extent.

Huang Xiaoming, already one of the mainland's new four young leading men, was quietly positioning himself to challenge for the title of the most popular mainland young male lead.

His fans, the Ming Jiao, launched multiple attacks, making the title "Huang Jiaozhu" grow louder.

Liu Tianxian needed no introduction—she appealed to both genders; her "Goddess Sister" title was rapidly catching up to the Four Little Flowers, forcing every rising young actress to avoid her sharp edge.

The leads shone brilliantly, reaping fame and fortune; supporting actors also harvested considerable popularity.

Especially those previously obscure actors, who rose directly from one hit drama—if they performed well, they could even become small stars.

For example, Yang Mi as young Guo Xiang in The Return of the Condor Heroes, with her lively and ethereal beauty, received much praise and successfully gained visibility.

Also, Wang Ou from The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng has seen rapid recent growth in fame and gained considerable recognition.

However, Wang Ou's fame doesn't stem solely from The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng, but from the cumulative exposure of multiple hot dramas aired in succession, such as New Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio and Ling Jing Zhuanqi.

Although Wang Ou's screen time in these dramas wasn't especially large, her frequent appearances made many viewers remember her warm, sweet face with a hint of allure.

Then, by late April, The Detective Di Renjie 2 premiered and achieved roaring ratings.

As the female lead, Wang Ou heavily boosted her visibility; combined with her prior accumulation, she experienced a small explosion, with her fame climbing steadily.

Yi An's second sister was finally no longer just "Er"—she had truly become "Jie."

…

"Ru Yan, can you sign my autograph?"

"Ru Yan, I love your portrayal of Ouyang Qing."

"Ou Ou, I'm Oula, keep it up!"

"…"

After attending a cast interview with The Detective Di Renjie 2 crew on CCTV, during the post-event autograph and photo session, Wang Ou's popularity was not low.

Wang Ou took a special photo with two fans who called themselves "Oula"—her fan name—smiling on the surface, inwardly ecstatic.

After finishing autographs, since another event followed, Wang Ou didn't join the gathering; after brief pleasantries, she left early.

Later, Wang Ou went with her executive agent to shoot a magazine, only then getting time to return home.

As soon as she entered, Wang Ou kicked off her high heels, first opened her computer to check how many followers her personal tieba and blog had gained, then called Yang Rong to brag.

"Rong Rong, look at my tieba follower count—I'm almost catching up to you."

"You say that every time, wait until you actually catch up."

Yang Rong was annoyed—this little flirt called every day to show off, endlessly.

"This time it's really close—just 127 followers behind—I'm definitely winning."

Wang Ou ignored Yang Rong's complaints, repeatedly emphasizing her impending victory; back in Hengdian, the two had bet on this, and now it looked like she'd won.

Yang Rong cheated: "We agreed on 'The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng,' but now you've added 'Detective Di Renjie 2'—that's cheating."

"I just ask you: isn't 'The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng' still being rebroadcast? Didn't my forum follower count surpass yours during that time?"

Wang Ou slammed the table: "If you dare deny it, I'll go to Modu and strip you naked right now."

"…"

Yang Rong sighed: "Fine, fine, fine—I admit defeat. I'll do one thing for you, but promise me, don't pull any of that nonsense."

"Stop talking nonsense. Lose, and just obey."

Wang Ou didn't consult Yang Rong; instead, she routinely pressured Yang Rong to come to Jingcheng to visit her.

After wrapping up filming in Hengdian, they'd been apart for over half a month, neither had joined a new crew, so they discussed meeting up.

"I'm not going to Jingcheng—I'm afraid you'll sell me out. If we're meeting, you come to Modu."

Yang Rong always suspected Wang Ou was setting a trap; once she stepped onto Wang Ou's turf, something might happen, and she wouldn't even be able to run.

"I've got work here—even though I have time, I can't travel far. You've got nothing in Modu, just sitting at home idle every day. Shouldn't you be coming to Jingcheng to see me?"

Wang Ou's reasoning was perfectly sound.

Yi'an's talent agency still had real clout, and with Wang Ou newly popular, though not overly busy, she kept getting small, scattered jobs and couldn't take a long leave.

"Aren't you with Wu Jiani? Why not have her keep you company?"

Yang Rong kept making excuses, and Wang Ou got desperate: "Are you seeing someone else? All you think about is your new lover in Modu—have you forgotten your old flame from Hengdian?"

"If you ever talked to Yan Li like this, you wouldn't be obsessing over me every day."

Yang Rong's sharp retort left Wang Ou momentarily shut down: "Don't attack someone's weak spot—that's going too far."

"Hehe, fine. Since you're so pitiful, I'll go to Jingcheng to see you in a couple days."

Yang Rong also felt a bit bored in Modu; spending a few days with Wang Ou wasn't bad—she could even squeeze some cash out of this "rich woman."

While on the phone, Wang Ou showed off her newly bought car to Yang Rong.

Yang Rong couldn't help but advise: "I know you're not short on money, but think ahead—you don't have much saved yet. A basic commuter car is enough; there's no need to spend hundreds of thousands on a Jaguar."

She knew Wang Ou had firmly decided to be Yan Li's mistress and had no other intentions.

Even if Wang Ou herself didn't plan for it, what if one day, old and faded, Yan Li dumped her? She still needed to develop the habit of saving.

"I understand."

Wang Ou wasn't ungrateful: "But he said if I want a car, don't skimp—he specifically transferred me 200,000, and introduced a friend who saved me another big chunk, so I barely spent anything myself."

Besides, Wang Ou had her own logic: if you're given money but refuse to spend it, deliberately hoarding it, you'll start worrying about your own escape route—and Yan Li will start suspecting you.

So she didn't want to save too much, didn't want to hold her own financial lifeline—she let Yan Li control everything, so he'd feel secure.

She'd learned this from gossip on set: back in the day, wealthy men from Xiangjiang who kept mistresses or actresses liked to play this game.

Women could spend freely—clothes, bags, jewelry, cars—buy whatever you want—but they were never given much cash. Once a woman experienced a life of luxury, she couldn't go back; without money in hand, she'd be completely at their mercy.

Some went even further: they used credit card schemes. The woman would spend lavishly on credit, and the wealthy man paid her bills. If she disobeyed, he'd cut off her credit immediately.

The woman either begged for forgiveness or got crushed under debt.

Compared to those seasoned old wolves, Yan Li—a newly rich "country bumpkin"—was clearly too naive, preferring to just hand out cash directly.

Of course, that also had to do with his indifference toward most women: if there was a problem, he cut ties—money and person, both cleared.

Yan Li had a system and wasn't worried about being tricked or deceived.

Wang Ou didn't know Yan Li had a divine eye, so she voluntarily handed him control of her finances and left herself no safety net, to prove her loyalty.

Besides, she was already an artist under Yi'an, so her personal finances and career were all under Yan Li's control.

This almost defenseless posture of loyalty worked well—Yan Li was very generous to Wang Ou.

Wang Ou had once tested Wu Jiani; their treatment was on completely different levels.

To some extent, Wu Jiani was more like a one-time transaction, while Wang Ou was a genuine long-term arrangement—and the price was entirely different.

After hearing Wang Ou's slightly boastful description of her "Gao Zhao," Yang Rong didn't know how to describe her own feelings.

"Aren't you afraid he'll kick you out one day?"

"I'm so obedient, I never fight or compete—why would he kick me out? Look at that guy Dong—you can see he's sentimental."

"Even if we split up someday, with his personality, he won't treat me badly. Besides, all the things I've saved over the years are worth something, and I still have my career—I still have income."

Wang Ou wasn't a naive fool; she had her own calculations.

No matter what, she had a safety net—so why not go even further?

If she acted like those women who wanted everything and schemed constantly, she wouldn't last long by Yan Li's side, and she'd never earn his trust.

Yang Rong fell silent for nearly two minutes before murmuring: "Your twisted logic always leaves me speechless and stunned—and yet I can't deny you've got some skill."

Wang Ou snorted proudly: "Twisted logic is still logic."

Just then, Wang Ou heard movement at the door. She quickly got up to peek through the peephole—it was Yan Li, trying his keys.

Why didn't he call ahead?!

Wang Ou hurriedly fixed her clothes and informed Yang Rong: "He's here—don't hang up, and don't record."

"I********"

Yang Rong was furious—what did Wang Ou think she was? Who wanted to listen to this pair of lovers?

Still, her hand never pressed the end call button. She comforted herself: she was just waiting for Wang Ou to say goodbye; otherwise, hanging up first would be impolite.

Because he had too many keys, Yan Li hadn't found the right one when Wang Ou opened the door.

Wang Ou didn't ask why Yan Li had come unannounced; instead, he explained himself—he'd seen his own executive agent returning to the company, knew she was home, and stopped by on the way.

Since returning from Hengdian, they'd only met at the company; they hadn't seen each other privately, and he genuinely missed this little vixen.

Also, Wang Ou had sent him a MMS saying she'd bought a new toy—he wanted to help her pick one.

"Shh."

Wang Ou noticed Yan Li glancing at her phone, showed him the screen—he rubbed his forehead.

Yang Rong's this little bitch really got addicted, huh?!

Yan Li took the phone and said to Yang Rong on the other end: "You using me for fun is fine, but you can't just make me do all the work for free."

Hearing Yan Li's voice, sharp with accusation, Yang Rong hastily hung up.

Wang Ou sighed regretfully: "See? The moment you speak, she hangs up—so shy."

Yan Li didn't quite get how those three words connected to Yang Rong's behavior, but he didn't care.

"No big deal, I'll call again later. If she ignores me, she won't hang up."

Yan Li now understood Yang Rong better than Wang Ou did—every time Yang Rong called, what tormented her most wasn't just whether to hang up, but whether to record the call.

She didn't record to catch him in a trap or anything—she just used the recordings to pass the time when Wang Ou didn't call.

Sure enough, while Yan Li and Wang Ou were playing with toys, Wang Ou called Yang Rong: first she hung up, second time she answered—and then she never hung up again.

Afterward, Yan Li picked up the phone and teased: "You'll have to reimburse me for the phone bill—over an hour's call from Jingcheng to Mogu isn't cheap."

Yang Rong still didn't reply—she just hung up. Yan Li sent her a text.

【If you recorded it, delete it.】

What if she records it and then stops answering next time? He and Wang Ou needed that stimulation too.

Wang Ou feared Yan Li might push Yang Rong too far, snatched the phone to check, and exhaled in relief.

"Don't worry, she won't record it. Besides, I've got dirt on her too."

Wang Ou wasn't the type to chase thrills at all costs—she'd already made her arrangements.

Never mind how close they were now as inseparable best friends—if one day they fell out, both would hold leverage over the other and never go full ruin.

The system never triggered this, and Yan Li genuinely didn't know—curious, he wondered what her leverage was, but Wang Ou wouldn't say.

After Yan Li gave her a good scolding, Wang Ou only revealed it was photos—but refused outright to show them to him.

"If you want to see them, I have to ask her. If she says no, no way."

"Then why did you show her my photos without asking me if I agreed?"

Yan Li couldn't help complaining about Wang Ou's double standards—Yang Rong had seen his photos, even watched him stream live several times—why couldn't he see hers?

Wang Ou froze: "How did you know?"

"..."

Yan Li realized he'd slipped—he knew Wang Ou had his photos, but for Wang Ou to show them to Yang Rong? Normally, only the two of them should've known.

"Uh… you guess."

Yan Li's usual "you guess" tactic made Wang Ou frown—she'd never told Yan Li this. So then…

"Are you two secretly doing something behind my back?"

Wang Ou bit her teeth in fury. She'd known it! That little bitch always listened so intently—how could she be unmoved? Pretending so cool on the surface, but sneaking around behind her back.

Yan Li neither admitted nor denied it—let the two best friends sort it out themselves.

Wang Ou didn't believe Yang Rong's story; Yang Rong probably suspected Wang Ou was cooking up some new trick—maybe even trying to stir up chaos.

Speaking of which, Yan Li wrapped his arm around Wang Ou's waist: "You said you'd give me a surprise when we got back to Jingcheng—where's the surprise?"

"Almost there, almost there—just one more step."

Wang Ou was anxious about it too, but the thing couldn't be rushed no matter how much she wanted it.

Yan Li rested his chin on her shoulder, ready to lend a hand.

"Have you considered starting a side business?"

"Side business?"

Wang Ou was confused—how did they jump to side businesses? She had Yan Li supporting her, didn't need money, and was still acting—why start a side business?

"I heard Wu Jiani has a little dream: opening a dance studio. Between film shoots, she teaches dance. You're her best friend—you could help set it up."

Wang Ou stared at Yan Li in surprise: "Really?"

That little brat called her "sister" every day—and never told her this. Yet with Yan Li, she didn't hide a thing.

Then Wang Ou understood Yan Li's meaning: Wu Jiani had a dream—help her fulfill it, and the surprise would be right there.

"But isn't the investment a bit too big?"

Wang Ou winced—a high-end dance studio wasn't cheap.

Wu Jiani was clearly about to crack—Wang Ou could push hard enough to make it happen without spending a cent. Worst case, Yan Li could arrange some resources.

Yan Li looked at Wang Ou: "You take a share. You two co-own it."

Then it was settled!

Wang Ou didn't care about side businesses, but free assets? Why not take them—and she could finally play boss.

Lying in Yan Li's arms, Wang Ou was already planning how to use this card to win over Wu Jiani, when Yan Li stroked her skin and added another line.

"Ask Yang Rong—if she's interested, she can join too."

One fish, three eats?

Wang Ou studied Yan Li. How could he even say they weren't up to something? Yan Li was perfectly calm.

"Running a business together gives you common ground and strengthens your sisterhood. Don't worry about how well it does—if it loses money, I cover it. Just treat it like a game."

Wang Ou couldn't yet read Yan Li's full plan, but she understood: the dance studio was his bait.

Wu Jiani wouldn't resist. Yang Rong wouldn't say no either.

After all, Yang Rong studied dance too—she had some sentiment, and her current income was low. With good conditions, plus Wang Ou and Wu Jiani's influence, her joining was extremely likely.

The fish had bitten the bait—could it still escape?

Wang Ou hesitated. Wu Jiani was willing; she'd just be nudging things along. But Yang Rong? Hard to say. They were close—Wang Ou didn't want to go against her wishes.

Still, thinking of Yang Rong's usual behavior—and the suspicion she was secretly in touch with Yan Li—Wang Ou nodded.

"I'll talk to her later."

Yan Li affectionately kissed Wang Ou, finding himself increasingly satisfied with this woman.

She was obedient and sensible, without all sorts of nonsense, and even secured benefits for him.

In truth, whether it was Wu Jiani or Yang Rong, if Yan Li had gone himself, he would likely have been far more convenient and swift than Wang Ou.

But Yan Li preferred to be passive, and lacked the time and energy; with Wang Ou handling it, he was spared the trouble and could simply enjoy the results.

The only pity was that people like Wang Ou, willing to offer such service, were too rare.

Li Bingbing and Jiang Xin worked alone, using Yan Li purely for amusement and transaction, neither willing nor inclined to do such things.

Dong, Qin, and Fan were out of the question—if Yan Li dared mention it, those three women would tear him apart; even if they couldn't touch him, they'd find ways to sabotage him.

Huosi Yan was a decent candidate, but because Qin Lan stood between them, both she and Yan Li held back, afraid to act.

Thus Wang Ou's advantages became immediately apparent, and she grew ever more favored by Yan Li.

As a result, the next day, Yan Li didn't leave—he took Wang Ou to attend a small gathering.

This gathering was organized by Fatty Yu, and attendees included mainland bosses, some Hong Kong and Taiwan film company executives or directors, and a few stars or female companions.

Notable among them were Huang Baiming, boss of Xiangjiang Oriental Film; a senior executive from Yindu Organization; and a senior executive from Media Asia Film Company.

Hong Kong directors Xu Laoguai, Er Dongsheng, Liu Weiqiang, and Ye Weixin.

Also present were Hong Kong actors Donnie Yen and Shu Qi; Liu Tianwang, whom Yan Li had met recently in "Mo Gong," was also there.

Several of the female companions were insiders; two of them looked vaguely familiar to Yan Li, others were strangers.

But Yan Li didn't care about them—he mainly chatted with the bosses, executives, directors, and big names.

Fatty Yu was still quite particular, mainly because Yan Li wasn't easy to fool, so he'd only connect him with people worth meeting or of interest to Yan Li.

Of course, it wasn't free—he needed to "bleed a little" for these bosses and directors.

Everyone understood implicitly; with Fatty Yu acting as intermediary, over casual chat, they introduced several projects.

Liu Weiqiang's project was "Soul of the Sword," backed by Bona, Yindu, and Media Asia Film Company, starring Leon Lai and Jin Chengwu, with Shu Qi also part of the cast.

The film planned to start shooting next month; though it claimed to lack funding, Yan Li suspected it was merely seeking partners to share risk.

He had little interest in this project—the cast was already locked in, and Yi'an could only invest passively.

Ye Weixin and Donnie Yen's project was "Firestorm," still in preparation, with only Bona and Huang Baiming's Oriental Film as current investors; no actors had been finalized.

Yan Li found this project moderately interesting—it had potential—but the returns remained uncertain.

Er Dongsheng and Liu Tianwang's project was called "Invisible Target," but it was still in discussion; Liu Tianwang hadn't confirmed his participation, though he leaned toward joining, so he came to lend support.

Many film crews seek stars first because stars attract investment.

Directors like Er Dongsheng or Ye Weixin, lacking strong box-office appeal, could talk all day, but investors might not care.

But if Donnie Yen and Liu Tianwang were attached as leads, the effect would improve dramatically.

Yan Li had the greatest interest in "Invisible Target."

Though he didn't fully endorse Liu Tianwang's box-office draw, the man was currently at his peak and certainly more reliable than Leon Lai or Donnie Yen.

Yet what interested Yan Li most was Xu Laoguai, despite the latter's massive failure with "Seven Swords," now disliked by many.

But Yan Li had a system, and multiple intelligence sources revealed from various angles that this man would one day turn from misfortune to fortune.

If the chance arose, Yan Li was willing to offer timely help.

But Xu Laoguai had come this time purely to mingle—he had no project of his own, so Yan Li could only express admiration and cultivate ties casually.

…

After the gathering and conversation, they played golf, gathering in small groups; Fatty Yu took a moment to ask Yan Li's inclination.

"So, which project caught your eye?"

Yan Li had played golf twice but wasn't skilled—he had little interest in it, mainly attending for social obligations.

He swung and hit a ball, then smiled: "Give me a moment to think—investing several million or even tens of millions can't be decided after two sentences."

"Naturally."

Fatty Yu understood perfectly—he didn't demand an immediate decision, but at least a hint.

Like which project he favored, or if any stood out, or which ones were hopeless—he could then arrange accordingly.

"Forget 'Soul of the Sword'—I'll think about the other two."

Yan Li revealed this; Fatty Yu acknowledged it—so long as it wasn't a wasted effort today.

But…

Fatty Yu watched Yan Li swing alone: "You asked me to make connections, now I've made them, yet you show no enthusiasm—weren't these the very people you asked me to introduce?"

Yan Li smiled: "Big Yu Ge, I want to collaborate with some of them, but I need to consider how."

"I have cinema chains, resources, and capital on the mainland—the center of the film market is now here. If we cooperate, should I beg them, or should they beg me?"

Fatty Yu fell silent, then raised his thumb: "You're impressive."

As previously mentioned, Yan Li's intelligence system had another excellent feature: it gave him vision and confidence far beyond his time.

At this stage, the mainland's economic boom hadn't fully erupted; many areas remained backward, and with public intellectuals promoting the idea that foreign moons were rounder, many held such beliefs.

The mainland film industry was the same—facing Hollywood, even Hong Kong and Taiwan peers, they often lacked confidence.

A few years ago, that was understandable; but over the past two years, the mainland film market rose rapidly, with many Hong Kong companies moving north, yet many still clung to outdated mindsets despite holding local advantages.

Of course, mindset was only part of the reason.

Many mainland film companies relied on Hong Kong production teams or lacked funds, needing Hong Kong companies to co-invest—this was also a major factor.

Take Fatty Yu: Bona had limited capital and needed cooperation with Hong Kong firms; its distribution business was deeply entangled with several Hong Kong companies.

Bound by others, he couldn't stand firm.

In contrast, Yan Li had his own money—he didn't need Hong Kong capital; Hong Kong could aid his ventures but couldn't balance or control him.

Worst case, Yan Li could abandon Hong Kong cooperation entirely, gradually cultivate a mainland film crew, exchange resources with mainland and Taiwan film companies, pursue overseas channels through other routes, and even drop Hong Kong entirely without major loss.

Meanwhile, Yan Li had cinema chains on the mainland and numerous channels, and could even speak with certain departments and agencies.

So it's not just about being controlled—Yan Li could easily counterattack; even if he couldn't drive the person back to Xiangjiang, he could make them beg for death.

Therefore, Yan Li himself had confidence and broad horizons; naturally, his cooperation with Xiangjiang would never "sink to degradation."

For a director like Xu Laoguai, he could even "lower himself to befriend" and court favor, getting the man to earn money for him.

But commercial cooperation between companies is a different matter entirely—figure out how to seize the initiative.

As they spoke, Yan Li glanced at Huang Baiming walking over and let out a light chuckle at Fatty.

"Look, here he comes."

Huang Baiming stepped forward with a warm smile: "Yu Sheng, Yan Sheng, what are you two chatting about so happily? Count me in."

Yan Li adjusted his golf club: "I was just telling Yu Ge that golf is easy to learn but hard to play. Any insights, Boss Huang? Give us some advice."

"No problem."

In Xiangjiang, too few businessmen don't understand horse racing and golf; Huang Baiming might not be an expert, but compared to Yan Li, a complete novice, he was undoubtedly a pro.

Fatty excused himself and left; Yan Li and Huang Baiming started with golf, then slowly drifted into other topics.

Cooperation comes in short-term and long-term forms. Short-term means discussing projects, exchanging pleasantries, then getting straight to the point.

Long-term cooperation is different—everyone has more patience, and first builds personal rapport.

Then, during that time, you help me, I help you; good projects naturally lead to cooperation, and if it goes well, there's a second and third time.

Just like Yan Li and Fatty, they lean toward this kind of long-term cooperation, and Huang Baiming, who came over, also intended to follow this path.

To Yan Li, Huang Baiming was a good cooperation partner.

Giants like Media Asia and Emperor Entertainment had wide networks and connections—far beyond Yan Li's current reach. Yindu was a state-owned enterprise, let alone that.

Smaller Xiangjiang companies couldn't offer much help; even if they groveled and fawned, Yan Li wouldn't look at them.

Oriental Film, Huang Baiming's company, had solid strength—among Xiangjiang's film studios, it ranked just below the top few giants. His own seniority and connections in the Hong Kong circle were sufficient: he could help Yan Li without ever turning the tables on him.

Besides Huang Baiming, Yan Li also chatted with senior executives from Yindu, Xu Laoguai, Li Tianwang, Ye Weixin, and others, gaining something from each.

Shu Qi didn't talk to him, but after the event ended, she came over voluntarily to exchange contact information.

Wang Ou stood nearby, her mood hard to describe—she was willing to help Yan Li secure benefits, but that didn't mean she didn't feel jealous, especially toward strangers, whose hostility she couldn't hide.

In the past, Yan Li would ignore Wang Ou's behavior or soothe her with a few words, but today, right before her eyes, he deleted the newly saved phone number of Shu Qi.

This one… he just couldn't bring himself to touch her!

Wang Ou was stunned—after all, Shu Qi was a major star in the industry.

Yan Li deleting her for her sake moved Wang Ou, who had always been subservient; she spent the night satisfying Yan Li in every way imaginable, her phone battery dying completely from calling Yang Rong.

Modu, a certain apartment

Yang Rong held her disconnected phone, cheeks flushed as she recalled Wang Ou's frenzy, wondering inwardly if she'd taken drugs, then started playing a gold-mining game…

(End of Chapter)