Chapter 248

Yan Li and the other two sat in the living room, listening to the bedroom erupt in wailing and chaos for a long while.

When the noise finally subsided, Yan Li checked his watch and said to Dong Xuan, "It's about time. Go check on Guan Yue—see if they're leaving together, or if you should take her first."

Dong Xuan nodded, went inside, and soon emerged leading Guan Yue: "I'll take Lao Guan home first."

Yan Li nodded: "I've called a car. Just go straight. I'll chat with Dawei."

Qin Lan raised her hand: "I'll go with them."

Yan Li hesitated slightly: "Fine, but no fighting."

"Who's fighting? We just argued a bit, shoved each other twice—don't make it sound like something else."

In front of Guan Yue, Qin Lan still cared about face, brushing off the scene of hair-pulling, clothes-tearing, and a woman lying on the floor as merely a minor squabble.

Dong Xuan agreed—even though Guan Yue was her best friend, the humiliating events of last night and this morning were better left unsaid.

Yan Li thought the two had seemed relatively calm earlier, and with Guan Yue's incident now on the table, things probably wouldn't escalate further, so he let the three leave together.

After the three left, Yan Li called out to the bedroom: "Alright, it's just me now. Come out."

Tong Dawei walked out of the bedroom with a blank expression, hair disheveled, faint bloodstains and palm marks visible on his face and neck.

Yan Li tossed him a cigarette: "This isn't my fault—it's just bad timing. Those two women were watching you too closely; otherwise I'd have warned you."

Tong Dawei silently lit his cigarette. He believed Yan Li.

Dong Xuan helping Guan Yue catch her husband in the act was perfectly reasonable. As for Yan Li, whether by personal conduct, status, or private friendship, he had no reason to show up here just to gawk.

"Sorry you had to see this."

Tong Dawei's voice was dull. Yan Li waved his hand: "Last time on the set of 'Struggle,' you watched my mess too. Consider us even."

Last time, Qin Lan and Dong Xuan ran into each other during a visit to the 'Struggle' set, clashed instantly, and came to blows.

Tong Dawei had been right there pulling them apart, watching the whole show. Now, helping Guan Yue catch her husband, Dong, Qin, and Yan were all the same people involved back then.

Every sip and bite is predestined—no one gets to laugh at another.

Hearing this, Tong Dawei felt a little better, but still smoked in gloomy silence.

Yan Li didn't press further—there really wasn't anything to ask.

A popular young actor, good-looking, with some money—women throw themselves at him constantly. It's not hard to understand if he can't keep his pants on.

Yan Li had seen too much, had too many such cases himself. He had no right to lecture or counsel.

After smoking two cigarettes, the only question Yan Li asked was how Tong Dawei planned to handle things with Guan Yue going forward.

Tong Dawei had done this before—last time he wasn't caught red-handed, they fought for a while, then got back together.

But this time it was so violent—could they still live together peacefully?

Could Guan Yue tolerate it? Could Tong Dawei?

Yan Li's eyes were sharp, his mind quick—he understood the core issue wasn't that Tong Dawei was unfaithful, but that his mindset had gone astray.

Plainly put, now that he was famous, he looked down on Guan Yue, his wife of many years, or wanted a wife at home and a mistress outside.

To be fair, Yan Li bore a little blame here.

He himself kept multiple women, lived a life of indulgence—what man wouldn't envy him? Who wouldn't want to copy him a little?

Tong Dawei was close to him and knew Dong Xuan well. He'd seen Yan Boss's carefree lifestyle, and watched Dong Xuan endure humiliation, remain understanding and patient—it was only natural he'd develop ideas.

Yan Li had long stopped arguing against such thoughts.

He'd tried warning others before: playing this game isn't as simple as it looks.

You need money, status, youth, looks, generosity, emotional intelligence, skill in balancing and soothing, a mix of softness and firmness—and most crucially, a system cheat and a strong kidney.

Even then, aside from the few women he truly cared about, Yan Li had already prepared himself for the rest to leave.

So people only see the glamour on stage, ignoring the effort behind it.

Ordinary people trying to imitate him? Wearing a green hat is the mildest consequence.

Of course, Tong Dawei still had some self-awareness—he knew he didn't have Yan Li's power, and one big, one small was enough for him.

But Guan Yue didn't care at all. Sneaking around once or twice without getting caught was one thing; keeping a mistress? She'd never accept it.

Imitate Yan Li?

You copy his womanizing—why don't you copy how he makes money and runs a company?!

Guan Yue thought Tong Dawei had gone soft in the head, full of deceitful tricks, nothing like the honest, simple man who once pursued her.

Tong Dawei felt that even if he wasn't as good as Yan Li, he was still a popular actor, while Guan Yue was just a lowly teacher—she'd climbed up to him, and now she bossed him around, ungrateful.

Listening to Tong Dawei's endless complaints, Yan Li shook his head.

So don't meddle in married life—each has their own thoughts and reasons, and each believes they're right.

Tong Dawei had gone astray, but Guan Yue judged him by old standards—she had her own flaws too.

A woman must be firm when needed, but also soft when needed. If you're never soft, he'll find someone softer outside—and of course he'll be tempted.

Yan Li didn't urge him further—just listened, as a decent listener, as Tong Dawei poured out his grievances for a long while.

Until Tong Dawei asked Yan Li what he should do—then Yan Li paused slightly.

"How you resolve this is up to you two. But as friends for so many years, I'll say one more thing."

"No matter how wrong Guan Yue may be, when she first stood by you, you weren't a famous star. Through thick and thin all these years, she's walked every step with you."

"Now the women throwing themselves at you—what are they after? Will they stand by you through storms? You must know the difference."

"Conflict is normal, but don't only remember the bitterness—remember the sweetness too."

"..."

Yan Li had many women, but the ones he truly cared about were Dong Xuan and Qin Lan—because when they chose him, he was nothing.

Tong Dawei and Guan Yue were the same!

Sure, Guan Yue might've been betting on his potential back then—but even betting on potential is still a bet.

Back then, 'Jade Guanyin' was delayed endlessly; Tong Dawei was constantly anxious, and Guan Yue comforted and encouraged him. When the Shi Xiba Mei scandal plunged him into a PR crisis, it was Guan Yue who supported and comforted him from behind.

Don't underestimate this point—when you're in a low, lonely valley, facing it alone versus having someone steadfastly by your side is completely different.

Besides, over these years, Tong Dawei has been working away, and all household matters have been handled by Guan Yue.

Tong's father is in a vegetative state; though his mother cares for him, there are many inconveniences, and Guan Yue has helped a great deal.

He can understand Yan Li's inability to control his pants, but he still believes one must clearly distinguish between play and true inner circle.

Of course, that's Yan Li's view—if Tong Dawei really can't get along with Guan Yue, he can't stop him.

The path is chosen by yourself; eat the bitter or sweet fruit yourself.

…

After chatting for a while, Yan Li and Tong Dawei parted ways and returned to Yangjiao Lantern Alley.

Dong Xuan was still keeping Guan Yue company; Qin Lan had already returned.

After all, their relationship was still somewhat awkward, and since Qin Lan had to catch a flight that night, she stayed only a little while before coming back early.

"What did Guan Yue say?"

Yan Li was curious; Qin Lan shook her head: "What can she say? Cry, of course—she shouts about breaking up, but I can tell she doesn't want to."

Men understand men; women understand women.

Yan Li can dissect Tong Dawei's thoughts; Qin Lan can vaguely sense some of Guan Yue's feelings.

Besides, she's been through something similar herself.

When she first found out Yan Li had been cheating, she didn't cry alone in private? She didn't consider breaking up? In the end, didn't she just accept it?

Qin Lan has seen what a firm breakup looks like—Liu Yun was dead set on splitting; Guan Yue isn't like that.

"Nie Yuan isn't a good guy, Tong Dawei isn't a good guy—why are all you men like this?"

Qin Lan began generalizing to the whole group; Yan Li disagreed: "A few individuals—don't generalize to the entire group. Pan Jinlian murdered her husband—does that mean all women are like her?"

"Besides, don't compare me to those two—I'm not even in the same league."

Qin Lan sneered: "You're even worse than them."

Still, just like last time when Nie Yuan's incident made Yan Li look better, these girlfriends' boyfriends are all dirty—actually, it benefits Yan Li.

When the weaknesses are the same, you compete on strengths—no matter how you play it, Yan Li wins.

To some extent, Nie and Tong are both "abandoning the wife from humble beginnings," but Yan Li, no matter what, always clings to the old and never lets go—in this regard, he's subtly even better.

Last time it was Qin Lan self-soothing; this time it's Dong Xuan's turn.

Dong Xuan spent the night with Guan Yue; when she returned the next day, the resentment in her gaze toward Yan Li had clearly lessened, replaced by a touch of dependence.

Yan Li seized the chance to pull her close, cooing to her, playing his charm, and steering the conversation back toward Tong and Guan—by morning, the whole incident from the night before was mostly settled.

It made Yan Li want to set up a long-term "catch-them-in-the-act" package with Tong Dawei or the Teddy Sisters' "brothers-in-law."

First build up your own side, then catch them in the act.

It lets you vent anger while enhancing your image—far more effective than struggling to soothe them yourself.

Qin Lan returned to France; Dong Xuan stayed two more days, mainly to keep Guan Yue company, then went back to Xinjiang Province.

Tong Dawei and Guan Yue didn't break up, nor did they return to normal—they were currently in a cold war.

This was standard procedure: let everyone cool down, vent their anger, then act—either move past it, or split for good.

Yan Li didn't pay much attention to the couple's affairs; since mid-November, Yi An's new drama had finally aired.

"The White-Haired Witch" premiered on the Jingcheng Film & Television Channel on November 18.

Over the past two years, Yi An's TV drama distribution has been extremely strong, enough to be called industry number one—but not so powerful that every drama could directly premiere on national satellite channels.

Precisely speaking, Yi An could do it, but how much it could sell for, which satellite channel would buy it, and how much revenue it would recover—none of that was easy to predict.

So, besides a few dramas that could premiere directly on satellite channels, the standard distribution process for Yi An still included airing first on local channels, then negotiating satellite deals based on viewership performance.

"The White-Haired Witch" had a strong cast and no shortage of satellite channels interested, but the price never got settled.

After discussion, they decided to air it first on local channels to test its quality, then negotiate with several interested satellite channels.

If it performed well, the price would be high.

If it performed average, the price would be discounted.

This kind of "betting-style" distribution was becoming increasingly common in Yi An and across the entire film and television market.

TV stations aren't fools; sometimes their shrewdness and stubbornness surpass even private companies.

If distributors and producers want more money—or even to sell at all—they must share the risk.

This isn't just true for TV dramas; film distribution has similar practices too.

Either sign a betting contract with theater chains to increase screen time, or sign a guaranteed minimum contract with the producer to secure distribution rights.

Especially the guaranteed minimum contract—no one knows which bastard invented it, but it's ruined many distribution companies.

Bona originally only handled film distribution; one major reason they began investing in production was the guaranteed minimum contract.

The so-called distribution guarantee means that the distributor, in order to secure the film's distribution contract, agrees with the producer on a guaranteed minimum.

For example, a hot movie with promising box office prospects—several distribution companies want to distribute it; one distributor, to secure the rights, agrees to sign a guaranteed minimum contract with the producer.

The "guaranteed minimum" means guaranteeing the producer receives a 【minimum net income】.

For instance, both sides agree on a guaranteed minimum of 100 million yuan—whether the movie earns over 100 million or not, the distributor must ensure the producer receives the share of the 100 million yuan box office.

In plain terms, the distributor pays the producer a safety net.

But distributors aren't fools—they won't pay out blindly; generally, if the box office exceeds 100 million, the distributor gets a larger share.

This method lets distributors potentially earn more, but the risk is high.

It's passive, risky, and requires an upfront deposit—when Bona and others did the math, since it was all gambling anyway, they might as well invest directly and skip the middleman.

The longer Yan Li stayed in distribution, the more he realized the importance of participating in production and investing in theaters and video websites.

No matter how mighty you call yourself "king of distribution," you're still just squeezing through cracks—you'll always get squeezed from both sides.

Besides "The White-Haired Witch," "Mo Gong," starring Fan Xiaopang, will also be released in late November.

Fan Xiaopang's new album, "Just Beginning," will also be launched and charted in December.

The title "Just Beginning" was chosen by Fan Xiaopang herself.

Her first album, released after joining her new agency, symbolizes that her acting and music careers are now "just beginning."

Of course, it also implies that another path has just begun—those who understand, understand.

One drama, one movie, one album, plus "The Legend of Yang Yuhuan" still not wrapped, along with various advertising campaigns and year-end galas.

Fan Xiaopang will be swamped in these final two months of 2006!

But Yan Li had no time to sympathize with her; Fan Xiaopang was busy, and he wasn't much better off.

As the year-end approached, every company needed to review and summarize, then plan new strategies for next year.

Outside, there were endless year-end events, meetings, and awards ceremonies—all of which required his presence as an outstanding young entrepreneur.

Put it this way: if Yan Li were willing, from mid-November until Spring Festival, his evenings and lunchtimes would be fully booked, and he might even have to rush between multiple engagements.

Even now, after carefully declining and turning down invitations, Yan Li had at least twenty days a month where he didn't even consider going home for dinner.

Yan Li now looked at TV dramas featuring bosses who returned home punctually every day for dinner and wanted to curse the screenwriters for having no real-life experience.

Bosses who lived such comfortable lives either had bankrupt companies or had been stripped of power.

Yan Li didn't actually dislike social engagements—he often organized them himself.

What he truly disliked was that most of these engagements were useless networking, or at best of minimal value, with abysmal cost-efficiency.

But for various reasons, you couldn't just refuse; not only did it bring no benefit, it wasted time, and drinking too much harmed your health.

Sometimes Yan Li truly wanted to shoot a drama and become an actor—not because he longed to act, but purely to escape these useless social obligations.

Whether acting was "unprofessional" didn't matter; at least it gave him a clear, unavoidable excuse to find some peace.

…

The premiere ratings for "The White-Haired Witch" were decent, and the reception was acceptable.

In short, it didn't flop, but it didn't explode either—moderately above average.

Yi'an felt slight disappointment, but it was still acceptable, especially since this was only the premiere; there would be reruns later.

Like the summer drama "The Legend of the Condor Heroes," though its premiere wasn't a huge hit, its rerun ratings and frequency ranked among the highest of all dramas this year.

Fan Xiaopang's rapid rise in popularity this year wasn't just due to high topic volume—her role as Su Daji genuinely won her a large fanbase.

As always: face matters, and with face, everything follows.

Since emphasizing her 【beauty】 as a key advantage, Fan Xiaopang's potential had been maximized.

Even now, with "The White-Haired Witch," all promotional efforts focused heavily on Fan Xiaopang's face.

Yan Li even stated that the drama could flop, but the person must be elevated.

Lie a lie ten thousand times and it becomes truth; Fan Xiaopang's beauty and fame could be deeply ingrained through marketing and promotion—not to mention she was already beautiful and famous.

"The White-Haired Witch" still had considerable potential, but the movie "Mo Gong" was somewhat underwhelming.

In terms of box office, this film couldn't even be called a flop.

With an estimated box office exceeding 60 million yuan, it was poised to enter the top five of China's 2006 domestic film rankings, at least securing a top-ten spot.

But when weighed against its investment, the numbers looked grim—this film was touted as having a budget over 100 million yuan.

Even if that figure had some inflation, based on current box office, the film couldn't even hope to recoup its costs, let alone turn a profit.

Not only did it fail at the box office, its critical reception was terrible.

You couldn't say the film was outright terrible—it wasn't as insulting to intelligence as "The Promise."

But the director tried to cram in too many ideas, resulting in chaotic storytelling; the film's artistic tone clashed with its commercial expectations—it wasn't a total mess, but it wasn't enjoyable either.

A low-budget film could still profit even if it was unwatchable; but a high-budget commercial film that's unwatchable will definitely flop.

Fortunately, the film flopped, but it had little to do with Fan Xiaopang.

Because Li Tianwang was the lead actor and primary box office draw; after him came the director; Fan Xiaopang, as the female lead, ranked even lower than Wang Zhiwen in blame assignment.

Not only did she avoid blame, her team shamelessly promoted a campaign claiming her cumulative annual box office would surpass 100 million yuan.

Besides "Mo Gong," she also starred in "The Tokyo Trial," released in September.

With nearly 25 million yuan from "The Tokyo Trial" and over 60 million from "Mo Gong," rounding off, it roughly equaled 100 million.

Don't fear embarrassment—how can a star become famous without being bold?

Even though "The Banquet" was heavily criticized, Zhang Ziyi and Zhou Young Master's teams and fans still hyped their idols as "box office draws."

Xu Jinglei, who appeared in "The Warlords," had less screen presence than Fan Xiaopang in "Mo Gong," yet she was still crowned a top-tier film diva.

Li Bingbing played the same game: in "Clouds of the South," she was third billing, yet she buried the second-billed Xu Ruoxuan, even overshadowing the male lead Chen Kun. These rising divas were all ruthless.

They mastered the tricks of fighting for billing, suppressing others' billing, and "my movie flopped but I won"—they'd fight on set, then turn on each other.

The four rising divas fought among themselves, then the two "Bing" girls fought again, then the two "Bing" girls teamed up to drag down the other four rising divas.

Fan Xiaopang's agent Jia Qian and Li Bingbing's sister Li Xue had nearly been sticking pins into each other's effigies a few days ago, but in the following days, they were on the phone constantly, talking longer than lovers in the honeymoon phase.

Compared to the forced face-saving in film and television, her album—originally just a trend-following move—made Fan Xiaopang the star of the 2006 year-end scene.

The album was set for December release, but promotion and charting began in November.

Neither Yi'an nor Fan Xiaopang's team were particularly skilled at releasing music albums.

But fortunately, everyone understood the real purpose.

Selling albums for profit was secondary; the key was expanding and elevating Fan Xiaopang's fame and exposure, while solidifying existing fans and attracting new ones.

Once the main goal was clear, it became simple.

Just spend money to get media and music critics to praise it, buy a few fake charts and fake awards, and the album could be declared "a nationwide sensation"—a total victory.

But once charting began, Yi'an and Fan Xiaopang's team realized they didn't need to spend much on buying rankings or praise.

As soon as the two lead singles, "Invisible Wings" and "Cherry Grass," started charting,

merely through normal promotion and Fan Xiaopang's existing popularity—with minimal additional resources—their rankings surged rapidly.

In particular, the song "Invisible Wings" surged to the top of multiple charts in less than a week.

Television stations and radio stations actively forwarded it, and download counts on major portals and music websites skyrocketed.

Top ten!

Top five!

Third place!

Number one!!!

Before the release of the album "Just Begun," "Invisible Wings" reached number one on multiple music charts.

Online streaming and download rates remained high, with related music indices consistently within the top five, and numerous music media outlets and online special reports covered it extensively.

Fan Xiaopang, who had already returned to the set of "The Legend of Yang Yuhuan" to film, was urgently recalled for a signing event and fan meet-up.

Yi'an's internal resource allocation for Fan Xiaopang's album was steadily upgraded, even prompting Yan Li to personally coordinate multiple resources.

For example, partnering with internet websites to promote the songs and music videos, conducting ground promotions through various channels, organizing large-scale offline publicity campaigns, and leveraging traditional media and platforms.

Traditional media, online promotion, physical distribution, and offline outreach were fully deployed, allowing this invisible wing to fly higher and farther.

…

In Jin Ling, howling cold winds could not dampen the fans' and listeners' enthusiasm.

Over a thousand fans who had paid for the album showed up for the signing event, and even more onlookers gathered nearby.

Fan Xiaopang's vocal skills might not match those of professional singers, but her psychological resilience surpassed them.

Unfazed, she took the stage and delivered "Invisible Wings" flawlessly, earning thunderous applause and fans chanting her rallying cry in unison.

"Bingbing Bangbang, Bingbing Bangbang."

"Where Bingbang is, love endures."

"Binglin Tianxia, irreplaceable."

"…"

Since "Super Girl" became popular, all celebrities developed similar fan group names.

Fan Xiaopang's fans were called "Bingbang," a homophone for "Bingbing Bangbang," and some also called them "Bingbang," implying companions or soldiers of Bingbing.

Because Huang Xiaoming's fans formed the "Ming Jiao," a small faction of fans created a "Bing Bang" for her, calling her "Bangzhu."

But perhaps because it sounded less impressive than "Jiaozhu," this title never caught on.

Notably, Li Bingbing's fans were also called "Bingbang," and their slogans were similar to Fan Xiaopang's.

As a result, the two fanbases often argued, giving the impression of two Bingbang factories fighting.

After the performance, Fan Xiaopang began signing albums, working nonstop until noon, then skipped lunch and headed straight to Suzhou for interviews; the signing and meet-up there would be even larger than Jin Ling's.

Only by nightfall did Fan Xiaopang get a moment to rest and call Yan Li.

These past few days had been insane—when her previous films and TV dramas became popular, she'd never been this overwhelmed.

It felt as if her fans were everywhere, interviews flooded in from all sides, and online and offline, everything revolved around her and "Invisible Wings."

Fan Xiaopang couldn't help muttering: "If I'd known singing could make me this famous, I shouldn't have become an actress back then—I might've become a diva by now."

"If you hadn't been an actress, you wouldn't be this famous."

Yan Li saw this clearly: the massive success of "Invisible Wings" was due not only to the song itself.

It also required massive resource investment in promotion and Fan Xiaopang's existing popularity.

An artist's popularity is interconnected: popular singers starring in films boost box office and ratings; popular actors singing can drive album sales and song popularity.

This had precedent—Xiao Yanzi and Zhou Young Master had both delivered strong musical performances.

Under her massive popularity, Xiao Yanzi's albums even outsold many top singers, and she had released several albums herself.

Zhou Young Master's signature song "Drifting" was an annual blockbuster, outperforming many top singers and hit songs.

"Invisible Wings" + popular Fan Xiaopang.

Perhaps the song's quality hadn't improved, but its reach and buzz were maximized—not to mention the backing of Yan Li, a media titan with extensive channels.

Fan Xiaopang asked curiously: "How many albums have sold?"

"Distribution has already reached 300,000 copies and is still surging; 500,000 shouldn't be a problem, but beyond that, it's hard to say."

"So few?"

"Sis, it's 2024 now—outside of fans and listeners, who still buys genuine albums? Pirated copies are everywhere, downloads are free online, and now there are ringback tones too. 500,000 is already an incredible achievement."

The physical album market was being hammered from all sides.

Conservatively estimated, only a handful of albums sold over a million copies annually—those by Zhou Jielun and Cai Yilin, the top music stars, or a few super girls with highly loyal fanbases.

For other singers, reaching over 300,000 sales was extremely rare.

"Invisible Wings" was a hit song with a popular singer, but that didn't guarantee equally massive album sales.

After all, Fan Xiaopang's fans were mostly film fans and Yan Li fans, with few dedicated music listeners; the album had only one or two hit singles, which somewhat limited its sales.

But if the album didn't sell well, profits could be made from ringback tones.

Album sales depended on people; ringback tones depended purely on songs—whichever song was popular earned the most.

Rumor had it that the singer of "Rats Love Rice" earned over ten million yuan annually from just that one song, and Tian Yu earned forty million yuan from bundled ringback tone licenses for Super Girl songs.

With "Invisible Wings" this popular, its ringback tone performance wouldn't be poor—it could rake in a lot of money, possibly even more than the album.

Of course, compared to the album itself, the real money-maker was Fan Xiaopang.

"Invisible Wings" was a real wing, carrying Fan Xiaopang soaring high.

Yi'an's artist management department had paused all ongoing advertising and endorsement negotiations, planning to restart talks after New Year's Day.

They demanded a price increase of over 30%, contingent on the future performance of "Invisible Wings" and the album—if results were good, prices would rise further.

With the New Year's Eve and Spring Festival approaching, many commercial performances sought Fan Xiaopang, specifically requesting "Invisible Wings," with each performance priced at over 500,000 yuan.

Recall that previously, Fan Xiaopang had endorsed clothing and jewelry brands, with appearance fees ranging from 250,000 to 350,000 yuan.

According to Yi'an Artist Agency, the song "Invisible Wings" could significantly boost Fan Xiaopang's commercial value and market potential.

He's already valuable; add one more valuable song, and his dual appeal in film and music creates premium pricing—highly sought-after and profitable.

Eating off it for a lifetime is exaggerated, but if this song becomes a hit, it'll easily keep Fan Xiaopang fed for years.

And as Fan Xiaopang's fame grows, so does the song's value.

Not only did Fan Xiaopang grin at this, but Yan Li even wanted to write two more good songs for Wang Ou.

"In a couple of days, I have a meeting where I can meet the vice head of CCTV—let's see if we can get you onto the Spring Festival Gala."

The CCTV Spring Festival Gala is definitely beneficial for Fan Xiaopang.

But "Invisible Wings" was released a bit late—it's already nearing January, just days away from Lunar New Year, so it might not make it in.

Fortunately, the song is currently hot, so there's still a chance.

Appearing on the Spring Festival Gala isn't just about visibility for Fan Xiaopang—it represents official recognition.

To be honest, Fan Xiaopang has been popular this year, but there's also been plenty of controversy; the best way to defuse and reduce these controversies is to appear on the biggest stage: the Spring Festival Gala.

Xiao Yanzi used this tactic before, and it worked well; Yan Li wants to imitate it.

Fan Xiaopang, having been on the Gala once before, wasn't overly excited—he was more focused on something else.

"If I go on the Gala, will you stay in Jingcheng with me for the New Year?"

Speaking of it, since they met during the winter of 2002 filming "Jubao Pen," it's been less than five years, yet they've spent three New Years together.

The first was during the 2004 New Year with the "Huan Tian Xi Di Seven Fairies" crew; the second was in 2005 when "Seven Fairies" appeared on the Gala, with both ice and jade side by side; the third was early 2006 on the Hengdian set, when Binglan bloomed.

If we spend this New Year together, it'll be four consecutive years—more than Dong and Qin combined.

If Fan Xiaopang hadn't reminded him, Yan Li had never actually counted it up before.

He originally planned to take his parents to Sanya, but then he remembered how exhausted Fan Xiaopang had been this year, especially these past few months—running nonstop—and he truly should spend time with him.

Besides, spending three New Years together in a row has become a habit; breaking it would be a pity.

"Whether or not you make it onto the Gala, I'll spend the New Year with you."

Fan Xiaopang's heart warmed, then he remembered something and warned: "Just the two of us—you keep your weird stuff to yourself."

After all, he'd been stacked twice before; she couldn't possibly be unprepared.

"Relax, this year I'll serve only you."

Yan Li did want to stack him, but he feared scaring off the New Year's bonus—better to wait a year, lower Fan Xiaopang's guard, then stack him during next year's New Year.

As for his parents, after the New Year, he and Fan Xiaopang will each return home; then he can take the two elders out.

…

Fan Xiaopang's new song went viral and indirectly boosted the deal for "The White-Haired Witch."

Too bad "Mo Gong" had already passed its box office peak and ran into "Curse of the Golden Flower," gaining little advantage.

In December, the hottest song was "Invisible Wings"; the hottest movie was "Curse of the Golden Flower."

Old Mozi deserves his reputation—no matter the controversy, his box office performance was truly powerful.

At the current trend, 200 million is definitely not the limit.

It might even break the domestic box office record set by "Hero," and perhaps even surpass "Titanic."

Previously, Chen, Zhang, and Feng—the three major mainland directors—each made a commercial blockbuster; Chen the Elder pulled off a massive hit, Feng Xiaogang got slapped in the face.

Old Mozi's "Curse of the Golden Flower," though controversial, outperformed the other two directors comprehensively in both quality and box office.

Yan Li looked at the box office and influence of this movie with envy.

He had long backed Old Mozi—even endured the grudge from New Picture's casting interference—to personally approach them seeking distribution cooperation.

But Zhang Boss of New Picture, used to hoarding everything, ignored Yan Li completely.

Ignore him? Fine—there's plenty of that on New Shanghai—but the way this guy acted superior made Yan Li furious.

Yan Li had dealt with many of these film bosses; each had their flaws, but also their strengths.

Even the ones he disliked—Chengtian Wu and the two Wangs of Huayi—he still acknowledged their merits.

But this Zhang Boss of New Picture—Yan Li had dealt with him twice, each time more nauseating than the last.

Honestly, only Old Mozi's reputation and the Olympic Opening Ceremony's prestige saved him—if not, Yan Li would've made his life hell.

Fuck it, I don't care about his reputation.

Boss Yan was famously petty; after returning home, he stewed over it, then immediately hired two media outlets to stir up trouble.

Soon, "insiders" with a sense of justice leaked various behind-the-scenes secrets of "Curse of the Golden Flower."

For example, due to Zhou Jielun, the two Zhangs clashed creatively, forcing Old Mozi to revise the script.

For example, the much-criticized golden armor and full-city chrysanthemums were Zhang Boss's idea; the art director nearly quit.

For example, Zhang Boss orchestrated fake news of Gong Li and Zhou Runfa slapping each other, angering both stars and forcing Old Mozi to take the blame and issue a public apology.

Several actors had their own issues too.

Zhou Runfa demanded luxury hotels and RVs, costing a fortune daily; filming in China under Hollywood rules, overtime pay was tens of thousands per hour, forcing the crew to cut scenes.

Gong Li felt the role of Wang Hou was thin and demanded more scenes; because the golden armor restricted movement, she once refused to perform action scenes, forcing the crew to compromise.

Zhou Jielun's team was large; to prevent paparazzi, they rented an entire hotel floor, barred outsiders, improvised lines, and drove the screenwriter to quit.

Liu Huohua suffered the worst—his scenes were heavily cut; originally the legitimate male second lead, he was squeezed into obscurity by the two Zhous.

Additionally, there were anonymous reports about gold-painted palace walls injuring crew members, air-freighting millions of chrysanthemum pots, wasting funds and exhausting labor, the two Zhangs clashing repeatedly, and Old Mozi claiming this film was a work twisted by money.

These secrets, except for a few that had previously leaked, were known only to those inside the crew.

When the "Curse of the Golden Flower" crew saw the leaks, their first move wasn't to deny them, but to hunt for the mole.

When they failed to catch the mole, they fell into a chain of suspicion.

The several big-name actors leaked about suspected Zhang Boss was deliberately stoking publicity—he had a history of this, and had previously clashed with several teams, even publicly criticized Zhou Runfa.

Zhang Boss suspected Old Mozi was angry with him and had targeted him, since the leaks pointed most heavily at him.

The already short-tempered and big-mouthed Boss Zhang launched the first attack, blaming everyone from Old Master to the actors to the entire crew.

Brother Fa wasn't easygoing; though he didn't show his face himself, his wife took up the fight and gave Boss Zhang a scathing rebuke.

Gong Li and Boss Zhang had old grudges—when she broke up with Old Master, this guy's scheming behind the scenes was no small factor, so she joined the project without hesitation.

Zhou Jie didn't speak out, but his fans weren't to be trifled with—they wrecked the website for the new footage.

Seeing this, Boss Zhang didn't fear it—he became even harsher, forcing the good-natured Old Master to step forward and confront him publicly, admitting that certain plot elements in the script had been interfered with.

In short, "The Golden Chicken" was a mess, with endless conflicts.

It did, however, provide some boost to box office revenue, since the heightened buzz attracted some viewers.

But for New Picture, it caused significant negative fallout—many popular actors held unfavorable views of Boss Zhang and his company.

Even if there are disputes, you don't tear each other apart like this—that's not how the industry operates.

Anyone wanting to collaborate with him in the future will have to think twice about whether they'll end up covered in shit.

More importantly, the rift between the two Zhangs is widening—and that's the most deadly part.

…

"Director Zhang, I'm speaking too much and sounding like I'm stirring trouble, but honestly, no one else would do something like what Boss Zhang did—I truly feel for you. If we collaborated… I'm talking too much, I'm talking too much."

"Haha, thank goodness Director Zhang didn't hire me back then—if he had, given my temper, I'd have gone straight for Boss Zhang's throat on the spot."

"What? Didn't you reject me? I heard you didn't want me. I get it, no problem, I understand."

"Director Zhang, you're my senior, and one of my favorite directors. I'll say one more thing—you can take it to heart, or ignore it as if I never spoke."

"Boss Zhang isn't a good person—if you have other plans, always keep a backup plan. Better safe than sorry."

"…"

Yan Li hung up the call, one meant to sow discord and woo Old Master.

The intent was obvious, but it didn't matter—many others coveted Old Master too. Rather than hiding it, better to be direct.

Yan Li had only wanted to vent, but hadn't expected such a strong effect; when he realized the rift between the two Zhangs was growing wider, he pulled out his hoe.

Old Master is a true commercial powerhouse director—he makes money, produces high output, and crucially, commands great reputation and influence.

With such a renowned director joining, the company gains many advantages—just stock prices could rise significantly.

At this stage, neither side has fully broken ties; Yan Li plans to lay more groundwork, maintain frequent contact, and step forward decisively when the moment comes.

Old Master is a man who values loyalty and sentiment—throwing money alone won't work; combining sentiment and profit is the right path…

————

ps: Ten-thousand-character update, (4000/7000)

(End of Chapter)