Chapter 243: Celebrity Effect and

"Teddy Sisterhood?"

The next morning, Boss Jia heard this name and Gan Wei's account, and grew thoughtful.

Upon learning that Qin Lan was Yu Yanli's woman and the founder of this sisterhood, recruiting actresses from all corners, he pondered its underlying intent.

Boss Jia believed that with Yu Yanli's skill and stature, the Teddy Sisterhood was far more than merely a clique for jealousy or mutual comfort.

Celebrity effect!

It must be that—Yu Yanli was after the celebrity effect.

Boss Jia suddenly understood: using Qin Lan as a link, he was binding together a large group of actresses to build influence.

This influential celebrity group, close to him and partially under his control, could at critical moments amplify his business maneuvers with its celebrity effect—or even drive traffic and support.

The cleverest part? This celebrity group required little investment from him.

Through Qin Lan, they were connected to him yet not directly tied; he could deploy minimal resources when needed, and easily disavow them when necessary.

Brilliant!

Boss Jia was deeply impressed by Yu Yanli's maneuver and briefly considered copying it.

But he quickly abandoned the idea.

The Teddy Sisterhood had come together not because a few actresses got along well, but because of Yu Yanli behind them.

Leishi currently had very limited resources, and Gan Wei's personal fame was insufficient to gather anyone.

Yet…

Boss Jia thought: if he couldn't gather them himself, he could let Gan Wei slip in.

Once Gan Wei built connections and became familiar, and Leishi rose, the Teddy Sisterhood could serve him too.

Besides, Leishi and Yu Yanli had both cooperation and competition.

Having Gan Wei befriend Qin Lan could foster mutual trust for smoother collaboration, while also serving as a mole to gather intelligence.

The more Boss Jia thought about it, the more promising it seemed—he even gave Gan Wei a sum of money specifically for PR.

Xiong Naijin had recommendation rights, but whether Gan Wei could join the Teddy Sisterhood still required an internal vote.

Gan Wei could use this money, through Xiong Naijin's introduction, to meet more members of the Teddy Sisterhood—treat them to meals, buy them gifts, win their favor, so the vote would naturally go her way.

Boss Jia specifically warned Gan Wei to mention herself as little as possible at first and to lower her posture, to avoid arousing Yu Yanli's suspicion.

Gan Wei wanted to join the Teddy Sisterhood.

Women, after all, have some vanity, and as an artist, she craved the spotlight.

But since becoming Boss Jia's girlfriend, she had to consider his feelings—she couldn't pick up sesame seeds and drop the watermelon.

In her view, the Teddy Sisterhood was perfect: she could make friends, gain exposure, it was all women so it wouldn't bother Boss Jia, and she could exchange with someone like Qin Lan—a kindred spirit.

Now that Boss Jia had assigned her a task, Gan Wei valued the Teddy Sisterhood even more.

A wise wife must be wise: understanding, obedient, and trouble-free are essential; under that premise, if she can help her man, her position becomes even more secure.

Gan Wei still felt pressure under Boss Jia—she had too few cards.

She became Boss Jia's girlfriend because she was reasonably attractive, had a good temperament, they'd known each other a long time, and Boss Jia wasn't particularly lustful.

So Gan Wei felt insecure and wanted Boss Jia to become more dependent on her—to turn from girlfriend into his legitimate wife.

With personal desire and other benefits, Gan Wei acted quickly—after Boss Jia left for work, she immediately sought out Xiong Naijin.

Xiong Naijin didn't know Gan Wei's true intent; she assumed Gan Wei simply wanted to join the Teddy Sisterhood to meet celebrities and expand her social circle.

Xiong, who had already wanted to actively facilitate this, immediately began planning for Gan Wei.

The so-called requirement of a vote for joining the Teddy Sisterhood was just a facade—the key was approval from a few core members.

First, Qin Lan—if she didn't approve, no one could join.

Then, Hu Siyan—if she wasn't won over, joining was out of the question.

Then Ma Yili and Li Xiaolu—both popular, their opinions carried weight; they might not make or break it, but they could sabotage it.

There was also Liu Yun, who could relay messages to Qin Lan, but his influence was relatively limited—once the above were secured, he didn't need much attention.

Ma Yili was a nice person, indifferent to group affairs; as long as you didn't offend her, she wouldn't cause trouble—easiest to handle.

Qin Lan had the most weight in her words and was easy to talk to, but she was hard to reach; as a judge-like figure, she had many concerns and wouldn't easily give her approval.

So the best breakthrough points were the highly active Hu Siyan and Li Xiaolu.

Both were enthusiastic about this, Xiong Naijin could connect with them, and once they were won over, persuading Qin Lan and Ma Yili would become much easier.

But these two weren't easy to please—their standards were sharp, ordinary people couldn't impress them, and they had to be flattered.

Xiong Naijin wasn't sure if Gan Wei, a semi-rich wife, could lower herself enough.

Gan Wei said she could lower herself—and she didn't even have to; just throw money at them.

Dining, entertainment, shopping—she didn't believe these two couldn't be won over.

Coincidentally, Hu Siyan was soon leaving Beijing to film "The Deer and the Cauldron," and was gathering a few sisters in town—Li Xiaolu was likely there too. Xiong Naijin considered bringing Gan Wei along to make initial contact and lay groundwork.

…

Yi'an Film & Television

Today, after touring the company, Yu Yanli considered whether it was time to relocate.

Yi'an's staff had grown significantly, especially after implementing the ground promotion strategy—the company now had over five hundred employees.

Of course, many employees were out filming, doing ground promotion, handling distribution, or accompanying artists—the headquarters still had one or two hundred people.

But this number was getting cramped in the current location; if some employees returned from field assignments, there might not even be room for them.

Besides Yi'an, Yi'an Cinema's headquarters staff had also been steadily increasing as operations expanded.

Most crucially, the locations of these companies were scattered—Yu Yanli sometimes had to run all over town, which was inconvenient.

So Yu Yanli considered finding a suitable office space to move all companies into one place at once.

Not necessarily an entire floor—just one building. He'd only need to take the elevator, not run around anymore.

Moreover, Yi'an's current location was in Haidian, close to Beijing Film Studio.

Originally chosen for proximity to film production and low cost, now that the company was diversifying, Chaoyang—the commercial center—was better suited for its future.

Yu Yanli contacted Xiao Zheng, who managed his housing and property, and asked him to keep an eye out for office buildings in Chaoyang—if anything suitable came up, lease and relocate.

Back in his office, Yu Yanli reviewed documents and contracts; a meeting was scheduled for noon.

After the meeting, there would be nothing else for the company that day.

Yu Yanli considered meeting a few newly acquainted bosses for tea in the afternoon to build rapport and explore collaboration opportunities, then visiting two leaders who had helped him in the evening to listen to their advice—perhaps triggering some developments.

These developments, Yu Yanli didn't need to participate in, but he couldn't afford to be unaware—Beijing's waters ran deep; one must tread as if on thin ice.

Yet, just as he was about to leave the company, an associate director from the distribution department came to him, looking uneasy.

"Director Yan, there's a project you should take a look at?"

Yu Yanli assumed it was some distribution project they couldn't decide on, seeking his opinion—but when he saw it, he smiled faintly.

"Huh, thick skin indeed."

The project was "The Fairy and the Woodcutter," starring Huang Shengyi and Yang Dashao.

One of Yu Yanli's original breakout projects had been "Seven Fairies," and now another "The Fairy and the Woodcutter" had appeared, telling the same seven fairies tale.

The lead actress was Huang Shengyi, his "ex-girlfriend," and the male lead was Yang Dashao, suspected to be Huang's current boyfriend.

From the moment the project was greenlit, "The Fairy and the Woodcutter" had subtly piggybacked on the hype, and the public happily watched the spectacle.

Yu Yanli had simply ignored it.

Now, they'd come directly asking Yi'an to distribute it—he didn't know whether to call Yang Dashao audacious or broad-minded.

Flipping through the materials, Yu Yanli asked: "What's your assessment from the distribution department?"

Yi'an had thresholds for TV drama distribution—they didn't take just any project, only those with merit.

The associate director spoke frankly: the department thought "The Fairy and the Woodcutter" was a strong project, backed by CCTV, with high likelihood of airing on CCTV, and promising profit potential.

Normally, the department would have already moved forward—but because it involved Huang Shengyi, Yu Yanli's "ex-girlfriend," they hesitated and came to consult him.

Yu Yanli nodded: "If it's a quality project, we can take it—but at the highest profit-sharing rate."

Huang Shengyi was already in the past, and Yu Yanli didn't care much for her, so he had no qualms about this.

But he disliked Yang Dashao—too many petty tricks, and the kind of stupid cunning—so he'd take a cut from him.

If they agreed to cooperate, Yu Yanli made more money—why not?

If they refused, Yi'an didn't need this one project—it saved trouble and avoided reputational damage.

Yu Yanli didn't give the matter a second thought—he went to meet his tea partners. The associate director, having received his instructions, contacted the "The Fairy and the Woodcutter" production team.

They thought the profit share was too high and wanted to negotiate—but with the boss's orders, no one dared agree.

Take it or leave it.

They still weren't satisfied—Yang Dashao even found Yu Yanli's phone number and called him directly.

"Director Yan, we're all in the same circle—no need to be so greedy. Come on, give me a face, let's keep doing business together."

Yu Yanli listened to the casual tone on the other end and smiled: "Sorry, I don't give face to just anyone."

He hung up immediately—a man who lived off women's connections, a wolf with a tail, coming to him asking for face.

"…."

Yang Dashao, hearing the dial tone, turned red with rage.

He'd been in the industry for years, a minor figure, always treated as "Boss Yang" or "Young Master Yang"—yet today he'd been so blatantly ignored by Yu Yanli.

"Damn it, I'll give this guy a lesson."

Huang Shengyi, standing nearby, frowned: "Don't provoke him."

Yang Dashao grumbled: "You still have feelings for your old lover."

Huang Shengyi pursed her lips and said coldly: "It has nothing to do with that—he has power and connections in this circle that we can't possibly challenge."

By now, she understood Yang Dashao to some extent—he had some ability and capital, but not much.

His family's company was in real industry, with no connection to the entertainment circle.

Yang Dashao himself was the youngest son in the family, striking out on his own with limited funds and resources.

With his family's influence and some liquid cash, he could pretend to be rich among minor stars and ordinary people, but he couldn't compare to real tycoons.

Even the drama "The Fairy Match" was assembled by leveraging Huang Shengyi's fame, putting in his own money, coaxing funds from family and investor friends, and teaming up with CCTV.

If he truly had the ability, he wouldn't have to go to Yi'an for distribution—he wouldn't feel uncomfortable himself, but he feared Huang Shengyi might develop other thoughts.

"I've said my piece. Whether you listen or not is up to you."

After speaking, Huang Shengyi grabbed her bag and left without hesitation; her aura was so cold that Yang Dashao didn't dare stop her.

Normally, things were fine—Yang Dashao wasn't as good as he appeared on the surface, but he was indeed a second-generation rich kid.

Even with limited liquid assets and resources, he held shares in his family's company back home, worth a substantial sum—at least more than Huang Shengyi had earned after years of acting. She would even comfort herself, dreaming of becoming a future wealthy madam.

But whenever she encountered Yan Li, whose career kept growing more successful, Huang Shengyi found it harder to fool herself.

Nothing could withstand the words "what if."

So every time she saw Yan Li or his women shining brilliantly, Huang Shengyi couldn't help invoking the "what if" method, and grew increasingly miserable.

As a result, Huang Shengyi now deliberately avoided anything related to Yan Li, to prevent herself from getting worked up.

Yet Yang Dashao not only didn't avoid it—he actively approached, even wanting to clash with Yan Li.

Huang Shengyi's mindset was extremely complicated; she was somewhat giving up, letting things take their course.

But once in the car, after careful thought, she still sent Yan Li a text message as a warning.

She hadn't noticed before, but now looking back, Yan Li had been somewhat cold toward her, yet never mistreated her.

After they broke up, whenever she sought help, he was willing to assist—his terms weren't generous, but he had done his utmost; she simply hadn't listened, being foolish.

Moreover, she proudly called herself his "ex-girlfriend," occasionally riding his coattails for attention, yet Yan Li had never uttered a single harsh word.

Yan Li hadn't blocked Huang Shengyi's phone number; after a few minutes, he replied to the text.

【Understood, thanks for the heads-up】

Seeing those words, Huang Shengyi felt an impulse to text and invite Yan Li to meet, but Yan Li didn't reply again.

Huang Shengyi silently put away her phone, gave a self-mocking smile, and drove off.

…

After receiving Huang Shengyi's warning, Yan Li had intended to see what tricks Yang Dashao might pull—but the evening's intelligence revealed.

This guy had chickened out!

Or rather, he wasn't cowardly—he simply had no way to harm Yan Li. His resources and connections couldn't touch Yan Li, while Yan Li had countless ways to counter him.

So this guy blustered on the surface, but in truth, he was just trying not to lose face in front of Huang Shengyi—there was no actual action.

"What a piece of trash."

Yan Li found him utterly contemptible. If this guy had truly dared to confront him, no matter the outcome, Yan Li would've at least respected his guts and grit.

But to be so blustering on the outside yet too timid to even openly challenge Yan Li himself—this was truly pathetic.

He dismissed him outright; what truly interested Yan Li was Jia Laoban's scheme targeting the Teddy Sisters.

I have to admit, this guy has really good taste; Yan Li's style does indeed have a similar feel.

Celebrity effect is a powerful amplifier, with many uses in commercial operations.

But Jia Laoban underestimated Yan Li's scope. The Teddy Sisters weren't deliberately planned—they were just a casual move. Yan Li's celebrity resources extended far beyond just the Teddy Sisters.

Jia Laoban was half an outsider and still didn't fully grasp Yan Li's clout in the industry.

As for Jia Laoban's desire to get his girlfriend Gan Wei into the Teddy Sisters, Yan Li pondered this thoughtfully.

Jia Laoban was watching Yan Li—and Yan Li was watching him too.

Many things he couldn't handle personally, but if Qin Lan used her connection to the Teddy Sisters as an entry point, perhaps some unnecessary trouble could be avoided.

Yan Li wasn't afraid Jia Laoban would pull the Teddy Sisters away.

First, he didn't need the Teddy Sisters. Second, he knew these women fairly well—most were fickle. As long as Yan Li remained powerful, they'd know where their loyalty lay.

———

In October, CCTV aired a rural-themed romantic TV drama—"Love in the Countryside."

Led by Zhao Ben Shan and his Zhao Family Troupe, it immediately went viral nationwide, becoming another successful series after "Liu Laogen" and "Ma Dashuai."

Yi'an's distribution department even came knocking to discuss distribution, but was politely refused.

At this stage, there were only a few people in China's TV drama market whose shows never had trouble selling.

Zhao Ben Shan was one of them.

He had strong ties with CCTV and deep connections in the Northeast provinces, wielding immense influence across the entire north.

Moreover, the Zhao Family Troupe was conservative, favoring a workshop-style operation, insisting on producing and distributing their own content—even refusing to cooperate with Yi'an, the industry's most renowned distributor.

But Yan Li was no ordinary man. Even with the Zhao Family Troupe's rigidity, he still got his share.

You can distribute on your own—that's fine—but I can still buy the online copyright.

Yan Li wanted all of "Liu Laogen," "Ma Dashuai," "Love in the Countryside," and other series, even some Errenzhuan and sketch compilations—prices negotiable.

In addition, Yi'an, which had been hoarding copyrights, intended to sign a long-term contract with the Zhao Family Troupe: for the next X years, Yi'an would purchase all of their works' online copyrights—buying one as soon as it was made.

Zhao Ben Shan was shrewd, but he couldn't resist someone offering money outright.

Between developing his company with cash or letting it sit idle in storage, Zhao chose the former.

However, for the long-term contract, Zhao Ben Shan held firm: he'd sell, but the price would be set according to the market rate at the time—Yi'an agreed.

Yan Li was quite satisfied with this collaboration; Zhao Ben Shan and the Zhao Family Troupe had a large, loyal audience.

While their ceiling might fluctuate, their floor was solid—a valuable addition to Yi'an's copyright strategy.

Besides the Zhao Family Troupe, in the past two years, De Yun She had rapidly risen to fame across Beijing, Tianjin, and Hebei, and Yi'an also entered into a long-term partnership with them.

They dispatched filming crews to record xiangsheng performances at their small venues and special shows, then licensed the content to Tudou. om.

De Yun She's current fame owed no small part to the high-definition xiangsheng videos recorded by Yi'an.

Additionally, Yi'an attempted to acquire copyrights from outstanding teams and artists in Sichuan's Bashu Comedy, Guangdong's Cantonese stand-up, and Shanghai's huaji theater.

As for traditional opera and drama, no moves were made yet—these regional comedies were more popular and could attract internet users.

But opera was different: at this stage, very few people online actually enjoyed listening to traditional opera or music.

Though Yan Li never stated it outright, Yi'an's current copyright acquisitions were increasingly less about hoarding for profit, and more about adopting a perspective of an "Internet Archive."

Striving for completeness, and attracting all kinds of netizens and viewers.

Once domestic acquisitions were sufficient, if funds remained, they'd consider foreign copyrights.

As Yi'an's "Internet Archive" grew ever larger—so vast it could determine a video website's survival—Yan Li's industrial chain could add another link.

…

In Dongcheng, near Chaoyang Gate,

Han Sanye looked at the newly installed, still-pristine sign: "Li Ming Xuan: Treat Guests with Courtesy, Transmit Emotion Through Tea. A fine name."

"Don't mock me—this used to be Le Ming Xuan, named after the former owner. After I took over, I kept the tradition and replaced it with my own name."

Yan Li smiled. Lately, with more social obligations, he felt it was inconvenient not having a fixed place.

Opening a restaurant or club would be too noisy and costly, so he simply leased a tea house—cheap, quiet, and carrying the elegance of "refinement."

Yan Li showed Han Sanye around. The tea house wasn't large—about two or three hundred square meters.

It had a main hall with scattered seats and private booths, a dedicated performance tea stage, and several private rooms, selling tea leaves and offering tea snacks.

The positioning was confused—neither casual nor business-oriented—which was why the previous owner had failed.

Yan Li had only just taken over and hadn't made changes yet, but he'd already stopped accepting walk-in customers. After future renovations, it would target high-end business networking.

With Yan Li's connections, this tea house would never lack clients.

Even if it did, it didn't matter—he never intended to profit from it. It was merely a venue for socializing, and he preferred his own space.

In the private room, the server brought tea. Yan Li and Han Sanye exchanged pleasantries, after which the latter brought up the real matter.

"This time, I'm here asking for your help."

Yan Li smiled: "With your status in the industry, what could possibly trouble you?"

Han Sanye shook his head: "My position looks glorious, but often I'm powerless. There are many difficult situations."

China Film was powerful, but it wasn't his own. From the company's and higher-ups' perspective, everything ran smoothly—but some matters couldn't use China Film's resources, so Han Sanye had to seek help personally.

Yan Li nodded. Before Han Sanye could speak, he volunteered: "If I'm not mistaken, you're here about Jiang Wen's film."

When he made "Devils on the Doorstep," rumors spread that Jiang Wen was banned from directing for five years—no one knew if true—but Jiang Wen kept making films until, after five years, he finally began preparing his new film, "The Sun Also Rises."

Jiang Wen was a great director, but a director who spent money without making money.

His debut, "In the Heat of the Sun," was shot on film. Normally, the ratio of finished product to raw footage was 1: ; this film was 1: 5.

Not only did he burn through film stock, but Jiang Wen was also capricious. Once, he hired 500 extras, then suddenly stopped shooting and told them to take their pay and leave.

The producer at the time, Hong Kong's Man Chun, nearly had a breakdown.

The crew went over budget repeatedly; in the end, they borrowed money to finish. Though it earned money, payment delays caused salary disputes.

When making "Devils on the Doorstep," the investors were Dong Laoban of Huayi and Wang Zhongjun of Huayi—they nearly had heart attacks.

After the film was banned, he only made a little from overseas, and Wang Zhongjun of Huayi refused to work with Jiang Wen again.

For this new film, "The Sun Also Rises," Jiang Wen struggled to secure funding; it was Wang Shuo who stepped in and brought in Taihe.

The original budget was 30 million, but Jiang Wen burned through 18 million—still less than half the film was shot.

Taihe deemed the risk too high and withdrew the remaining 12 million. Jiang Wen's funding chain snapped, and he began scrambling for cash.

He and Han Sanye were close friends; when Jiang Wen "bullied" Lu Chuan during "The Search," Han Sanye had backed him.

Upon learning Jiang Wen's funding had collapsed, Han Sanye wanted to help.

However, China Film's operation was too large, funding was limited, and the film's subject matter was somewhat sensitive, so Brother Han could only use private channels.

In searching, he eventually came to Yan Li, who was now thriving in the industry.

"They say you have excellent contacts—turns out it's true."

Brother Han was slightly surprised when Yan Li stated his purpose outright, but then he remembered Yan Li's reputation and how long he'd been working on this—so it was natural Yan Li had heard the rumors.

"So, can you help me out?"

As a private request, Brother Han didn't lower himself; Yan Li responded readily: "You rarely ask me for a favor—I can't refuse you face. I can't promise success, but I'll definitely lend a hand."

"Straight to the point."

Brother Han gave a thumbs-up. He'd approached many others before, but due to Jiang Wen's notorious reputation and other reasons, everyone had politely declined.

China Film's Brother Han was desperate, but he couldn't force people to invest; he himself wouldn't go that far for Jiang Wen.

Everyone in the industry was sharp—they understood the boundaries and had ways to shut Brother Han down.

Even coming to Yan Li, Brother Han had only hoped for a chance. He knew Yan Li was cautious about investing in films and was busy with theater chains, with tight funds.

He hadn't expected Yan Li to show such face—he directly agreed to help. Though Yan Li's words were cautious, it still made Brother Han feel relieved after so many "closed doors."

"Alright, I'll call Jiang Wen over. Let's chat together."

Brother Han pulled out his phone, called Jiang Wen, who was in Jingcheng seeking funds. Upon hearing news of funding, Jiang Wen quickly arrived at the tea house.

"Director Jiang."

"General Yan."

Yan Li and Jiang Wen shook hands—they were meeting for the first time, but not for the first time working together.

When they were raising funds for "Seven Fairies," he had asked Liu Xiaoqing to play the Queen Mother.

At the time, Liu had just been released from prison and was struggling; Jiang Wen, as her ex-boyfriend, actively helped connect her with the crew to get her through the hardship.

Yan Li hired Liu Xiaoqing, and Jiang Wen had called him personally to thank him, even saying he owed Yan Li a favor.

Now, that favor hadn't been repaid yet—and it seemed he'd owe another.

Speaking of old times, Jiang Wen sighed; Yan Li laughed cheerfully.

"There's a saying: only those who've helped you will keep helping you. Whether you call this help or not, it proves we're compatible—I believe in fate. Since fate has brought us together, we must honor it."

After these words drew them closer, Yan Li asked if he could see the script.

It was only natural—no investor is denied the script. Jiang Wen had prepared it and handed it over, giving a brief overview.

Yan Li flipped through it slowly but carefully, yet his frown deepened with each page.

He finally understood why investors had fled and why other studios stayed away.

After flipping through it, Yan Li still didn't understand the script!

He'd seen Jiang Wen's "In the Heat of the Sun" and "Farewell My Concubine"—though both had plenty of artistic expression, the stories were clear.

But this "The Sun Also Rises" was truly obscure. Yan Li sensed something faintly, but couldn't be certain.

Finally, Yan Li set the script down, looked at the tense Jiang Wen, hesitated, then spoke honestly.

"Uh, Director Jiang, I don't mean to be blunt, but I didn't understand this script."

Jiang Wen had faced this before, but few were as direct as Yan Li.

Not understanding wasn't a problem—he could explain.

Normally, Jiang Wen disliked doing this.

If you understood, you understood him; no need to say it. If you didn't, talk about something else—no need to waste time.

But now Jiang Wen needed money, and Yan Li was a man of principle—he couldn't be arrogant, so he explained his vision to Yan Li.

Yan Li listened while flipping through the script, and gradually grasped Jiang Wen's intent.

How bold!

No wonder China Film refused—so obscure, and if he made it too simple, it might get banned again.

Still, even if this approach might win awards, Yan Li had no confidence in its box office.

Add Jiang Wen's high budget, and the risk of loss was great.

Yan Li fell into thought, clearly hesitating; Jiang Wen and Brother Han didn't interrupt.

The former's nature was such—he was seeking investment, but valued mutual willingness, not demanding money.

Brother Han was just a mediator, and with his sensitive status, getting them to cooperate was enough—anything more would be overstepping.

After a few minutes, Yan Li finally spoke: "Director Jiang, don't take it personally—I'm a businessman; I can't ignore profit. In my view, this film isn't a quality investment."

"It's fine, I understand—last time…"

Jiang Wen, hearing this, assumed refusal and moved to end the meeting politely, but Yan Li stopped him.

"I haven't finished speaking."

Yan Li closed the script and looked at Jiang Wen: "From a commercial investment standpoint, I won't invest in this film."

"But commercial investment isn't just about projects—it's about people."

Yan Li lifted his teacup: "For Brother Han and for you, Director Jiang, I'm investing ten million."

Not investing in the film—investing in the man!

Yan Li gave his answer: he didn't believe in "The Sun Also Rises," but he believed in Jiang Wen.

Past intelligence reports had hinted at outstanding films in 2010—including Jiang Wen's "Let the Bullets Fly."

So this ten million was invested in Jiang Wen—and also in the future "Let the Bullets Fly."

Jiang Wen was deeply moved. His personality resonated with Yan Li's style—investing in people, not just projects—and he saw Yan Li as a loyal, principled man.

They toasted with tea, exchanged cups, and soon began calling each other brothers.

Still, ten million wasn't enough for "The Sun Also Rises"—Jiang Wen still needed funds.

If he was going to owe a favor, he'd owe it fully—Yan Li asked how much more Jiang Wen needed.

Jiang Wen calculated: with Yan Li's ten million, plus his own savings, his wife's money, and his brother's contribution, he could raise another twenty to thirty million—he still needed ten to fifteen million.

Yan Li: "..."

Damn, this guy really burns money.

After sipping tea, Yan Li said: "Don't worry about this—I'll handle the funding. You just focus on filming."

In fundraising, Brother Han had no China Film's brand—Yan Li could outmatch him single-handedly.

But normally, Yan Li brought investors profit; this film might lose money, so he couldn't risk his reputation—he'd have to be upfront, which would take effort.

Fortunately, the amount wasn't huge. Yan Li told Jiang Wen to return to the set—he estimated he could secure funding within a month.

Jiang Wen was skeptical. After years of filmmaking, he'd never once escaped financial worry. Yan Li's casual tone made him uneasy.

Yan Li was confident: "Relax, Brother Jiang—I'll let you experience what it's like to fight a wealthy war."

(End of Chapter)