Chapter 249: Annual Intelligence: The 26-Year-Old Billionaire

December 31, 2006, Yangjiao Lantern Alley

Yan Li declined all social engagements and private meetings, drove alone to this sihe academy, performed his daily incense offering and prayer, then waited for the annual update of the 【Annual Intelligence】.

Ding dong~

The specially calibrated alarm chimed once, marking the official arrival of 2007; Yan Li clasped his hands, bowed slightly, and opened the system.

【Annual Intelligence 1: The Fall of LeEco Empire—Why a $100 Billion LeEco Collapsed……】

LeEco?

Yan Li recalled the old boss Jia and opened the intelligence with interest to read it carefully.

The intelligence was detailed; Yan Li spent nearly twenty minutes reading it before finishing and offering a three-word evaluation.

Good accountant!

As previously noted, Yan Li had encountered the name LeEco in several prior intelligences and had vaguely sensed its fate would be grim, but he lacked full knowledge of the details.

Only now did Yan Li fully and meticulously understand how LeEco rose—and how it collapsed.

Its rise needed no elaboration: connections + Old Jia + the tide of the era.

Though LeEco failed, Yan Li still acknowledged Old Jia's abilities, evident in many of his strategic moves and business maneuvers.

Many assume connections alone can conquer everything—that's overly simplistic.

Or rather, having connections doesn't mean playing this way; others operate in industries inaccessible to the public, effortlessly and safely.

Industries like the internet and entertainment are highly visible, fiercely competitive, and each player has some backing; connections matter, but alone they're insufficient to sustain success.

LeEco succeeded because Old Jia's personal ability was the decisive factor.

Among personal abilities, Yan Li believed Old Jia's accounting skills were the most extraordinary.

The intelligence cited LeEco Pictures: a few blockbuster projects + affiliated companies co-investing + binding numerous celebrities + riding the era's momentum.

A company with barely over a billion in annual profit was valued at tens of billions, then acquired by the listed LeEco. om to cash out.

Had the acquisition been completed, Old Jia, who had invested 400 million in LeEco Pictures, could have gained over 4 billion in returns.

What a huge appetite!

What audacity!!!

LeEco succeeded because of connections + Old Jia; it failed because of connections + Old Jia.

With no one to back him, Old Jia took huge steps, raced forward at full speed, and the cash flow grew increasingly tight.

The original accounting holes remained unfilled; he kept fabricating records until the deception could no longer be sustained—LeEco collapsed, and he would return to China next week.

Yan Li couldn't help scanning the intelligence again.

To Yan Li, this intelligence wasn't just gossip; the rise and fall of a future internet + entertainment empire worth hundreds of billions held profound implications for his own future plans and operations.

He could emulate and learn from LeEco's good ideas; he could avoid and warn himself against its mistakes.

Old Jia was a "good teacher"!

【Annual Intelligence 2: The Gains and Losses of Alibaba's Entertainment Strategy……】

Yan Li became interested.

Alibaba was no stranger—he had met Jack Ma at a business meeting just days ago.

At this stage, Jack Ma was still far from being a titan.

The current internet elite were Shanda, Baidu, Tencent, and the three portals: Sohu, Sina, and NetEase.

Shanda's Old Chen and NetEase's Old Ding had both been China's richest men; Sohu's Old Zhang had an early start, broad connections, and major influence; Baidu's Old Li was in full bloom, having gone public in the U. . last year with unmatched momentum; Tencent and Sina remained indispensable forces to all.

Meanwhile, the e-commerce market had yet to rise, Alipay had just begun, and Jack Ma had not yet reached a pivotal position in the industry.

Yet due to Alibaba's astonishing potential, strong external optimism, and Jack Ma's active presence, he still carried some weight.

Jack Ma had already shown interest in the entertainment market.

This year he had invested in Huayi Brothers and recently discussed YiAn and Tudou. om with Yan Li specifically.

Yan Li had read many intelligences and knew exactly what Alibaba represented in the future; he had once seriously considered partnering with Jack Ma.

Perhaps for this reason, the system triggered this intelligence, revealing how deeply flawed Alibaba's entertainment strategy was.

It wasn't that Alibaba was inherently flawed—or unsuited to entertainment strategy.

The intelligence repeatedly emphasized Alibaba's ingrained e-commerce mindset.

Entertainment is content creation; applying internet business tactics to it directly caused conflict.

Worse, Alibaba's core remained e-commerce, so it habitually demanded entertainment divisions support its e-commerce operations, creating a vampiric dynamic.

This was Alibaba's corporate culture and strategic thinking: self-interest above all; other companies could be discarded or sacrificed when necessary.

You can't say this is wrong—at least not from Alibaba's own perspective.

But for invested companies, Alibaba's investment was honey laced with arsenic.

Sweet, but potentially lethal!

Yan Li pondered whether there was an opportunity here—he must avoid Alibaba entirely and never fully rely on it.

Could he introduce some of Alibaba's rivals to Jack Ma?

He noticed Huayi had grown close to Alibaba—perfect; the fiercer their mutual exploitation, the less damage than if enemies stabbed each other.

【Annual Intelligence 3: Weibo's Ten Years—The Rise and Transformation of a Social Media Giant……】

Weibo!

Yan Li had heard this name often; even a previous monthly intelligence had triggered a related future intelligence.

He had been deeply intrigued by this platform touted as the most popular social media.

He had even sought out Wang Xing, founder of the school network and Fanfou mentioned in the intelligence, hoping to learn or invest.

After speaking with Wang Xing, Yan Li realized that merely investing in such a platform was insufficient—he needed to control it.

Investing in Tudou. om and gaining only cooperation rights, not control or strategic partnership rights, had long been a sore point for Yan Li.

In other industries, he could remain a passive investor; but Tudou. om was too vital to his industrial layout.

Merely cooperating didn't satisfy his needs—he wanted control of Tudou. om, or at least significant influence.

But Tudou. om was founded and dominated by Wang Wei, with deep internal influence and heavy shareholding, and was in a rapid growth phase; Yan Li couldn't seize power recklessly.

Internal strife halting the company's progress would only hand victory to Youku and Sohu lurking behind.

After all, YiAn and Tudou. om were still closely cooperating, so Yan Li had merely held back for now, waiting for an opportunity.

If no opportunity arose, he'd settle for less—or exit and find another video site.

At least by 2010, when entertainment traffic exploded and mobile networks surged, Yan Li would have another chance to enter.

Precisely because of his lesson with Tudou. om, Yan Li felt that investing in social media platforms like Xiaonei and Fanfou without control would leave him too passive.

So despite all obstacles and complications, he resolved to try building one himself.

After reading this detailed Weibo intelligence, Yan Li's resolve hardened further.

Weibo was crucial to him!

Yan Li rose, took a notebook, and began sketching and writing, combining the intelligence with his own ideas.

Currently, Yan Li's industries centered on film and television production, distribution, and cinema chains, primarily focused on entertainment, with plans to acquire a video website as a platform.

Under this industrial layout, Weibo was a strategic imperative—no less vital than investing in cinema chains or video websites.

For production, distribution, and artist management, internet platforms' influence was growing, already surpassing traditional media.

Future film promotions and artist exposure would inevitably involve major internet platforms; without doubt, Weibo—focused on social interaction, public opinion, and real-time information—was one of the most critical promotional channels.

In business, there's a concept called defensive positioning.

Simply put: if there's a knife in the room and you don't take it, someone else will hold it to your throat and control you.

Even if the return is low, you must actively position yourself against such vulnerabilities—even at great cost.

Worse, Weibo isn't merely defensive—it can be turned offensive.

If Weibo were under Yan Li's control, the annual savings on film and artist promotion alone would be immense.

He could even pressure competitors, suppress them, or charge exorbitant traffic fees.

Save money yourself, extract more from rivals—this dynamic would be self-reinforcing.

Moreover, as an entertainment professional, Yan Li had long sought sufficient media resources to build his own mouthpiece network.

If Weibo succeeded, holding the largest and most popular social media and real-time news platform, he wouldn't just have a mouthpiece network—he'd become a media titan, vastly elevating his "voice."

Simultaneously, Weibo could synergize with video websites and other sites he invested in, driving mutual traffic, cutting costs, and forming a positive feedback loop of traffic and strategic alliance.

This would significantly aid Yan Li's future layouts and investments.

In short, Weibo could fully activate Yan Li's entire business ecosystem, providing multifaceted support and forging a powerful closed-loop structure with industry dominance.

Yet the vision was beautiful; whether he could actually build Weibo remained uncertain.

Two major challenges.

First, Yan Li was an outsider to the internet industry—he lacked deep understanding and knew nothing about technology; his hesitation to enter video websites stemmed partly from this.

Yan Li needed to find several capable assistants to help him build Weibo.

Second, Weibo's investment would be substantial, and profitability wouldn't come quickly—he'd need to pour in his own money and attract investors.

Cinema chains were already burning cash; video websites would burn more; now add Weibo.

Yan Li wasn't a golden goose—if his cash flow snapped, he might end up worse off than Old Jia.

Difficult as it was, solutions existed.

If talent was lacking, recruit it—this intelligence mentioned future core executives of Sina Weibo, such as CEO Wang Gaofei (Laiqu Zhi Jian), product manager, chief operating officer, and technical lead.

Though Yan Li understood that such a massive platform couldn't be sustained by just a few key executives.

Success often depends on timing, platform support, and luck.

Still, these individuals had played major roles in Weibo's future success—far more reliable than Yan Li trying to figure it out alone.

If funding is insufficient, raise more capital.

Yan Li's demand for economic returns from Weibo was far lower than his need for strategic positioning; as long as control was secured, he was willing to give up additional equity.

Though challenges existed, Yan Li had his own unique advantages in running Weibo.

For instance, celebrity and public figure resources.

The intelligence report not only introduced successful Sina Weibo, but also mentioned failed microblogging platforms or similar software.

Fanfou and Tencent Tautao preceded Weibo, but due to inadequate development in celebrity-driven traffic, they failed to break through early, and were eventually overtaken by Weibo for a host of other reasons.

In this regard, Yan Li was absolutely strong.

Most internet startups, especially new websites, had no access to the entertainment circle; even if they did, without money, no one paid them any attention.

But Yan Li could leverage his industry connections to bring in celebrities and public figures on a large scale, at relatively low or even zero cost.

Celebrity-driven traffic alone didn't guarantee dominance over competitors, but combined with early market positioning, it could establish a first-mover advantage.

The market was only so large; sufficient first-mover advantage could create a suction effect, attracting massive new users and continuously reinforcing and expanding the lead, squeezing competitors' survival space.

Moreover, the most crucial point: Yan Li had cheat access—he possessed a godlike view of the future.

Other competitors fumbled their way forward, while Yan Li could precisely ensure Weibo's major strategic milestones avoided missteps, and implement advanced, novel tactical strategies.

Thanks to his intelligence system, Yan Li could track competitors' movements and launch targeted strikes.

With these advantages, even if he lagged in funding, technology, and traffic, he still had confidence to challenge any internet giant.

Not to mention, some internet giants weren't beyond cooperation—complementing strengths, achieving mutual benefit and coexistence.

Yan Li spent over an hour writing and researching the Weibo intelligence report, demonstrating how seriously he took it.

He couldn't afford to neglect it—it was already 2007; Xiaonai. om had gained some fame, and Fanfou and Tencent Tautao were already in development.

Yan Li was starting nearly from scratch: he needed to assemble a team, then develop the product, gradually adjust and refine it, secure various partnerships, and finally undergo internal testing and optimization before official launch.

This would take at least six months to a year; meaningful influence wouldn't emerge until around 2008.

So he had to take it seriously and move quickly—otherwise Sina and Tencent would strike first.

【Annual Intelligence 4: XX Year XXXX Conference Held...】

Yan Li couldn't resist lighting a cigarette, scanning the names above, cross-referencing them with his memory.

As business grew, he'd inevitably deal with all kinds of people; he didn't need to get close or burn incense, but he had to know who the real gods were—never offend the wrong person.

To some extent, this was today's most valuable intelligence.

【Annual Intelligence...】

On New Year's Day 2007, Yan Li spent the entire day in Yangjiao Deng Hutong, studying and analyzing the new annual intelligence.

This had become Yan Li's annual habit on January 1st.

Those close to him knew he would rest here for a day, reflecting on the past and contemplating the future—no disturbances allowed unless something critical arose.

On January 2nd, Yan Li appeared, presiding over Yi'an's annual meeting.

On January 3rd, he presided over meetings for Yan Ye Capital, Yi An Cinema, Yi An Media, and others.

Last year, all companies had developed to varying degrees.

Yi'an's performance was the most outstanding.

In film and television production, it delivered impressive results like The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng and Crazy Stone; total profits from all productions and investments exceeded nine digits.

And this was even though many projects were still ongoing, and some final payments hadn't been settled.

In artist management, Fan Xiaopang rose rapidly; Zhang Zhilin and Wang Ou also delivered solid results.

Though direct revenue from this division paled compared to the film and TV department.

But celebrities could drive projects, boosting film and TV production and distribution—its value couldn't be measured solely by direct returns.

In distribution, Yi'an still maintained a dominant industry position.

Total annual TV drama sales reached 529 million yuan, with distribution royalties of about 70 million yuan.

Though film distribution had just begun, it leveraged unique advantages to secure multiple high-quality projects, accumulating over 300 million yuan in box office and roughly 10 million yuan in profit.

Like artist management, distribution couldn't be judged solely by direct returns; the resources it unlocked could feed back into the company and other departments.

Another noteworthy department was advertising: a division seemingly undervalued within Yi'an.

It generated over 22 million yuan in profit for the company last year.

And this was even though Yi'an's advertising brand hadn't yet broken through, and some business was coordinated with film and TV or artist management—not primarily profit-driven or revenue-sharing—otherwise profits would've been higher.

Yan Li calculated: Yi'an's activity and scale in 2006 weren't the largest in the industry, but in terms of profitability, it ranked among the top companies.

But as always, film companies earned a lot—and spent even more.

Just as money came in, new projects were already being launched; the surplus available for Yan Li to withdraw was limited.

Fortunately, the company kept growing, and its industry influence kept rising.

Yan Li heard Hua Yi's two Wangs were seeking investment at a valuation of 1. to 2 billion yuan; he compared the two companies.

Hua Yi excelled in its star roster, high movie market share, and powerful resource and capital operations.

Yi'an's strengths lay in strong TV drama capabilities and channels, stronger profitability, and some positioning in film and celebrity economics.

Looking at this, Yan Li concluded Yi'an still lagged behind Hua Yi.

More precisely, Yi'an couldn't match Hua Yi's appeal to capital markets.

At this stage, capital markets showed far greater interest in film than television.

Hua Yi attracted capital from all sides far more effectively than Yan Li's "go-it-alone" approach.

Thus, beyond profitability, Yi'an's appeal to capital was far lower than Hua Yi's "structurally sound" model.

In short, Hua Yi was built along the lines of a listed entertainment company—its goal was to go public and raise money.

Yi'an leaned more toward a traditional film company, focused on content creation and distribution channels—a vital part of Yan Li's industrial map.

Many investors sought only return on investment; naturally, they preferred Hua Yi, with its clear, simple goal.

In contrast, Yan Li represented long-term investment—slower returns, with inherent uncertainty.

But if Yan Li succeeded and built a closed industrial loop, it wouldn't be comparable to Hua Yi at all.

Yan Li wasn't considering taking Yi'an public yet, but he was curious about its valuation.

Film companies were light-asset, with volatile earnings; their valuation differed from conventional industrial firms and couldn't be calculated by simple profit margins.

Yet at the same time, the cultural and entertainment industry held immense hidden value and sat at a crucial economic turning point—when the economy thrived, entertainment boomed, and this couldn't be ignored.

Whether it was a bubble or not, if you wanted to make money from it, you had to include the bubble.

Yan Li thought Hua Yi's asking price of 1. to 2 billion was reasonable; Yi'an couldn't possibly be valued below 1 billion yuan—that would be an insult.

Compared to Yi'an, Yi An Cinema was temporarily lagging.

The main issue: too few cinemas; fewer than ten were currently operational.

In this industry, no matter how much you talked, it all came down to the number of cinemas and box office revenue.

But the first batch was gradually entering the market, and the second batch had begun site selection and construction; no signs of funding shortages were visible, so the market held high expectations—once it gained industry influence, it would become valuable.

Yi An Media, representing copyrights, was undervalued due to the current market's lack of emphasis on intellectual property.

Yan Ye Capital, however, held controlling stakes in multiple companies under Yan Li's name and was now worth considerable value.

Not to mention, Yan Ye Capital had other major investments outside Yi'an's companies.

For example, Tudou. om.

On October 9, 2006, Google acquired YouTube for $1. 5 billion.

This massive acquisition shook the global internet market; video websites instantly became darlings of capital markets.

Tudou. om, as China's top video website, became a hot commodity, with its valuation soaring repeatedly.

By the end of 2006, Tudou's valuation had exceeded $100 million, equivalent to nearly 800 million yuan.

Yet Tudou was still burning cash rapidly, with minimal profitability, and market competition had intensified dramatically as major internet giants entered the arena.

Even so, Tudou's valuation kept climbing—the cultural and entertainment Fengkou was far greater than the internet's.

Yan Li held about 30% of Tudou, worth roughly 250 million yuan.

And Tudou was merely one of Yan Li's investments; though the most valuable, others also brought him varying returns.

Yan Li held several consecutive meetings, assessed his companies, and made new arrangements.

Then he looked forward to this year's Forbes and Hu Run rich lists.

Last year he had shown off on an unofficial list; this year, would he make the official one? Whether it was a "pig-slaughtering list" wasn't his concern.

First, his money was earned legitimately; second, his ranking wasn't high enough to warrant worry.

Third—and most importantly—he needed the rich list to prove his wealth and ability, reinforce his image as a business prodigy, and support his commercial plans.

Of course, he also hoped to show off a little along the way.

After all, he was still just a young man who had recently turned 26—he still had the urge to show off.

Besides, if he didn't show off now, by his thirties or forties—even if he became the richest—he wouldn't feel the same thrill.

A millionaire at eighteen and a billionaire at sixty were entirely different things.

————

What is constantly remembered will eventually resonate.

This year's Forbes list was released in early January, listing 400 mainland Chinese billionaires.

Huang, the boss of Gome, reclaimed China's top spot with a fortune of 18 billion yuan.

Yan Li searched through the list and finally found himself.

【Name】: Yan Li, 【Gender】: Male, 【Age】: 26

【Company】: Yan Ye Capital / Yi'an Film & Television, 【Headquarters】: Jingcheng, 【Primary Industry】: Film and Television Production and Distribution, Internet Investment

Rank: 258, Total Assets: 1. 85 Billion RMB

So little?!

The gap between Forbes and his own estimate is too huge.

But after carefully studying the list, Yan Li realized Forbes had been conservative this year in valuing enterprises.

Not ignoring them entirely, but squeezing out a lot of water.

Yan Li believed the valuations of Yi'an, Yi'an, and Tudou. om—all of which he had significantly boosted—had all been compressed to varying degrees.

This was evident from the poor performance of internet bosses this year: only five internet figures made the top 100.

Also, Yi'an's profits and Yan Li's stock gains were never publicly disclosed; conservative Forbes naturally undervalued them.

Calculated this way, Yan Li's net worth was actually quite good—very few other film company bosses made the list.

The Wang brothers from Huayi together were valued at only 800 million, ranked 362nd.

Though he didn't break into the top 200, Yan Li felt 1 billion was acceptable.

Most importantly, he had more than the Wang brothers.

Last year Yan Li didn't make the list; those two were at the very bottom, with an estimated worth of 500 million to 600 million.

A year passed, and though they improved, they couldn't match Yan Li's rocket-like surge—he overtook them at light speed.

Yan Li pondered how to stir up some momentum, making the outside world know who the real "richest" in the entertainment circle was.

While observing others, Yan Li picked up his phone, raised an eyebrow, and answered.

"Old Yu, congratulations me on what?"

"The Forbes list? I haven't seen it yet. Oh, I don't care about this."

"Heh, I'm just lucky—my empire is big, the pressure is huge, I'm walking on eggshells, trembling with fear."

"Alright, I'll call you back after I finish reading. Treat me? Is 200th place worth a feast? Fine, fine, I'll arrange it."

"..."

After hanging up, Yan Li exhaled, savoring the moment.

Delicious!

Soon, a second congratulatory call came in; Yan Li's voice sounded puzzled.

"The Forbes list? Out already?"

"..."

As Yan Li was showing off to friends and family, the Forbes list began to spread—he became this year's breakout figure on the billionaire rankings.

Though his rank wasn't high, his youth made up for it!

Of the 400 billionaires on this year's Forbes list, only four were under thirty.

One was Zhao Ning, 25, from Yunnan Province, worth 800 million, running a gem and jewelry processing company.

His inclusion was simple: his father was Zhao Xinglong, Yunnan's legendary gemstone king—he inherited the business.

Another was Chen Dainian, 28, worth 800 million, employed by Shengda Network—his older brother was Boss Chen of Shengda.

Another was Li Zhaohui, the 80s billionaire mentioned last year, from Shanxi Province; though his asset ranking had dropped slightly from last year, he still held firm in the top 100.

And then there was Yan Li—the only billionaire under thirty on the list who had built his fortune from scratch and surpassed one billion.

Not only was the story sensational, but Yan Li himself was already famous, so he attracted heavy media attention.

"Billionaire" + "Self-made" + "Entertainment Mogul" + "26 Years Old" + "80s" + "Actor" + "Many Stories with Today's Hottest Actresses"

Any combination of these elements could draw readers and gossip-seekers to click on news stories—far outshining the headline of Huang Boss reclaiming the top spot.

Xinjiang Province, Set of "The Legend of Chu Liuxiang"

Dong Xuan, in costume, was memorizing her lines when Yang Xue hurried over with her phone.

"Stop memorizing—your man's on the front page."

"Is it surprising he's in the news?"

Dong Xuan didn't care—but then she realized, and snapped: "Which fox is seducing him now?"

"It's not gossip—it's good news."

Yang Xue explained, then added with a complicated expression: "But you'll probably see more gossip like this from now on."

"What do you mean?"

Dong Xuan took the phone Yang Xue handed her, read the news article, then stared blankly at Yang Xue.

"Yan Li? Over a billion?!"

She knew Yan Li was rich—an Yiwanfuweng —and kept earning more, but not this fast.

Last year he was a billionaire; this year he's in the billions—was he filming TV dramas or printing money?

"Is this real news?"

Dong Xuan didn't believe it; Yang Xue sighed: "Can't you see the word 'Forbes'? If you don't believe it, check on your computer at the hotel or call someone."

Upon hearing this, Dong Xuan's sense of false security vanished; her face twisted into a complex mix of joy and frustration.

It's good that my man is rich!

But it's not necessarily good if my man is too rich.

Good heavens—there were already swarms of butterflies and bees swarming around Yan Li; now that his wealth has grown, won't even more foxes come to steal him?

Yang Xue thought the same, and even suggested: "I think you should talk to Bingbing—maybe you two can unite against outsiders."

Among the Seven Fairies, Li Lin had the best relationships, followed by Yang Xue.

Especially with Fan Xiaopang and Dong Xuan, she got along well with both, sometimes acting as a peacemaker, hoping they'd put aside their conflicts.

Dong Xuan said nothing, but clearly listened.

Before this, there had been a faint mutual understanding among them—but it was fragile, full of conflicts and selfish motives.

But if external pressure grew, Dong Xuan thought they might be able to set aside some disputes and maintain consistency in certain areas and moments.

Still, Dong Xuan always believed Qin Lan was someone she could talk to—after all, their situations were somewhat similar.

Fan Xiaopang was harder to read—she was a wild, flirtatious vixen!

Wushi City, Set of "The Legend of Yang Yuhuan"

Fan Xiaopang, back from her trip just two days ago, was naturally informed of the news.

Her team was far more sensitive than Dong Xuan's circle—they'd already begun strategizing how to ride the trend. Fan Xiaopang had always been closely connected to Yan Li.

When Yan Li shone, Fan Xiaopang could bask in his glow.

Moreover, Forbes wasn't just a billionaire list—it also had a celebrity list, and this year's successful Fan Xiaopang had surged into the top ranks.

Ranked sixth overall, just behind two sports giants—Da Yao and Liu Feiren—and three leading actresses: Xiao Yanzi, Zhang Ziyi, and Zhou Young Master.

By the way, Li Bingbing ranked tenth—the first time the "Two Bings" had both entered Forbes' top ten celebrity list together.

Though not as dominant as the Three Leading Actresses, it proved the "Two Bings" now had equal standing with the "Four Dan."

After all, the "Four Dan" still had Xu Jinglei dragging them down—ranked 18th, even below Chen Hao, the leading actress of Chengtian.

Fan Xiaopang's rapid rise to sixth place was fueled by massive exposure and rocketing income.

Her income of 19 million matched Zhou Young Master's, tying for seventh on the income list.

This was slightly disappointing, because "Invisible Wings" was released at year-end, so Fan Xiaopang didn't reap much of the benefits—if she had, her rankings across the board would've climbed higher.

But even if she climbed higher, Fan Xiaopang could at most surpass Zhou Young Master.

She still had a long way to go compared to Zhang Ziyi and Gong Li, who starred in major domestic and international films and earned directly in U. . dollars.

Meanwhile, Xiao Yanzi and Li Bingbing each earned 13 million, tied for fourteenth on the income list.

Xu Jinglei once again dragged down the "Four Dan and Two Bings"—her income was only 8 million, outside the top 30.

She was the only one among the "Four Dan and Two Bings" who didn't make the top ten overall and whose income fell below 10 million—imagine how much the others would crush her.

Especially the "Two Bings," who still lagged behind the "Four Dan," needed to step on this bottom rung to elevate themselves and lower the "Four Dan."

This list clearly showed that, after a year of catching up, the "Four Dan and Two Bings" had genuinely formed a competitive dynamic.

As competition intensified, this concept would deepen in public perception, creating a crushing, monopolistic advantage over other actresses.

For example, Chen Hao—though her celebrity ranking and income weren't worse than Xu Jinglei's—

in everyone's mind, she was simply not as popular as the "Four Dan and Two Bings," not even on the same level.

Fan Xiaopang was also surprised by Yan Li's net worth, but far less shocked than Dong Xuan.

As the company's top star, she knew exactly how much Yi'an had earned this year; combined with Yan Li's various investments and real estate holdings, she had a rough sense of his wealth.

But she'd estimated his net worth at 800 million to 1 billion—she hadn't expected Forbes to put it near 1. billion.

A 26-year-old self-made billionaire!

Even with preparation, Fan Xiaopang couldn't help but marvel: I've got such excellent taste—I caught a top-tier Wang Laowu.

As for the women who might swoop in on Yan Li, if she claimed she wasn't the least bit nervous, that would be an exaggeration.

But she had confidence in her own charm, and her importance to Yi'an gave her more assurance than Dong Xuan.

Compared to those foxes, Fan Xiaopang truly feared the aristocratic ladies and wealthy heiresses.

Yan Li's flirtatious nature was a flaw, but that didn't mean no one was interested—he was a hot young talent.

If he married, he could just keep it low-key; his in-laws would turn a blind eye. If Yan Li had enough skill to control his "wife," no one would make a fuss—then it wouldn't be a problem at all.

Besides, Yan Li had one advantage: he cherished old feelings and never forgot his roots.

This quality mattered more to many people than purity or fidelity.

If a woman of similar status truly targeted Yan Li, perhaps she wasn't as beautiful as her—but she could offer him far greater help.

More importantly, their background and status are far more respectable than Fan Xiaopang's.

Famous female stars have their aura, and these women carry aura too—some of it even more tempting to men.

For Fan Xiaopang, she'd rather Yan Li had more flirtatious women around him, since they posed little threat to her position, but this kind of girl? That's another matter.

But no matter what, her own career is thriving, and Yan Li's wealth is immense—this alone is worth celebrating.

She even put on a show after work, posting a blog complaining that everyone was too obsessed with money, that rankings kept triggering endless calls, and that Forbes was just entertainment news—nothing more than a spectacle.

A netizen asked in the comments whether she really earned 19 million last year; Fan Xiaopang neither confirmed nor denied it.

【I never counted. If you think it's true, believe it; if you think it's false, don't. It's that simple.】

When a netizen asked about Yan Li's net worth, she gave no direct reply, only saying she'd ask Master Yan for a big red envelope later.

…

Qin Lan, who had already finished filming in France and returned home, heard the news at a Teddy Sisters gathering.

Still dazed and confused, Qin Lan hadn't reacted when she was immediately drowned in congratulations and flattery from the sisters.

"About 1. billion—how absurdly rich is that?"

The Teddy Sisters had no real grasp of such an astronomical figure.

This year, two members of the Teddy Sisters made the list—Qin Lan and Hu Siyan.

But both ranked low, with incomes of just over a million.

The figures weren't entirely accurate, but the gap wasn't huge.

As always, stars' incomes are still low, and they must split earnings with their companies, leaving them with very little.

Some stars who earned two or three million still cried poverty, claiming the list was fake and they made far less.

Others earned a lot but didn't make the list due to various reasons.

For example, Liu Yun's ex-boyfriend Nie Yuan earned far more than many on the list, yet he wasn't included.

Li Xiaolu, lacking ambition and filming infrequently, earned little last year, but Ma Yili still made a substantial amount—her income broke the million mark—yet she didn't make the list either.

No matter what, all of them were hovering around the million mark, at most a few million.

1. billion? That's enough for them to earn for hundreds of years.

Hu Siyan and Li Xiaolu could at least imagine it somewhat; those with even lower incomes, like Xiong Naijin and Zhao Ke, couldn't even form a concrete mental image.

They only knew it was money they could never earn in ten lifetimes!

Amid congratulations, everyone's gaze toward Qin Lan held a flicker of complexity.

They feared their sister suffered—but also feared she drove a Land Rover!

Qin Lan wasn't even driving a Land Rover—she was practically piloting an aircraft carrier. Why couldn't I find a potential like this?

Sensing the awkwardness, Liu Yun nudged Qin Lan, who snapped out of it and smiled.

"I don't understand men's affairs, and I don't care. Keep having fun—I'm treating tonight."

"Thank you, Sister Qin! Sister Qin is so generous! Waiter, bring the best wine!"

Li Xiaolu came from a wealthy family and cared slightly less about money than most; moreover, she preferred fun over flattery and immediately shifted the topic.

Hu Siyan, the mood-setter and Qin Lan's confidante, picked up the signal and quickly took charge of the conversation.

After finishing the Teddy Sisters gathering, Qin Lan, on her way home, began reflecting on the changes triggered by Yan Li's net worth exposure.

What Dong Xuan could think of, she could too.

Even without thinking, she had seen with her own eyes the subtle shifts in expression and emotion among the Teddy Sisters just moments ago.

These women had known her for years—they were close sisters—and even they were struggling to cope. How much worse for others?

Back at Fuli City, Qin Lan paced around her home, hesitated repeatedly, then finally dialed a number.

"Hello?"

"I heard."

Dong Xuan's calm voice came through: "What do you want?"

Qin Lan rolled her eyes—always playing dumb. She didn't believe Dong Xuan had stayed calm when she first heard the news.

"If you're going to talk like this, there's nothing left to say. Let's each mind our own business—better yet, let's all fail together."

Qin Lan had called first, but that didn't mean she'd hand over the initiative to Dong Xuan. Whatever they did, their positions must be equal.

Dong Xuan fell silent for a moment, then her tone grew more natural: "I understand. What do you propose?"

Qin Lan spoke firmly: "Team up."

"Just the two of us?"

"What do you mean?"

This time it was Qin Lan's turn to be puzzled. Dong Xuan paused: "Should we include Fan?"

Qin Lan fell silent. Dong Xuan said nothing. Only faint static hummed through the phone.

Though unspoken, both Qin Lan and Dong Xuan felt they were more alike—and Fan Xiaopang was the odd one out.

On one hand, both had been with Yan Li before he rose to fame; though entangled by past romantic issues, each considered herself the rightful wife.

Fan Xiaopang, however, was a genuine third party—someone Yan Li picked up only after his rise.

The rightful wives distrusted each other, but both looked down on the third party.

Beneath that disdain lay caution and fear: from the current situation, Fan Xiaopang was their greatest threat—the one most likely to oust them and take their place.

Two equals cooperating made sense; but bringing Fan in?

First, would that imply equal status for all three? Would Fan, the third party, become a "rightful wife"? That would be arming the enemy.

Second, would it let Fan Xiaopang dominate? A three-way alliance might become one dominant and two subordinate, turning against them.

Third—and this was awkward to admit—such an alliance required cohesion, but Fan Xiaopang's arrogant, domineering nature might refuse to play along. If she rejected them, it would be humiliating.

Even Dong Xuan, who proposed the idea, couldn't decide—let alone Qin Lan.

The two remained frozen for minutes, until Qin Lan offered a new proposal.

They could form a three-way alliance—but with a sub-alliance within it.

Dong Xuan thought for a moment: "You mean we first unite as three, stand united against outsiders, then internally, the two of us team up against her?"

"I think just the two of us might not be enough to hold her off. Adding her improves our strength, but we can't let her tower over us. This nested alliance strategy is perfect."

Dong Xuan considered, then nodded: "Agreed."

"Good. Call her now and bring her in."

"Why don't you call?"

"I called you first. Now it's your turn. Besides, you two once played sisters on screen—you're easier to talk to."

"You two also played rivals. You have more experience dealing with her."

"You call."

"You call."

"Fine, don't call."

"Then don't."

"..."

Calling it an alliance was absurd—expecting two women still fighting over the same man, who had once even fought physically, to cooperate wholeheartedly? That was pure fantasy.

When dealing with enemies, you use cunning. When dealing with allies? You use even more.

————

PS: 11, 00 words (7, 00/7, 00). Monthly accounting completed.

Normal update schedule resumes tomorrow. Also, requesting base monthly votes.

(End of Chapter)