Chapter 251

Soon after the Forbes list appeared, Hu Run released his 2006 Rich List.

Called the "Hundred Rich," it actually listed 500 names and still differed significantly from Forbes.

Huang, the richest on Forbes, ranked second on Hu Run's list; the top spot went to Zhang Yin, a female tycoon in packaging paper and raw materials.

Yan Li remained on the list, but ranked outside the top 300, with assets of only one billion yuan.

It was clear Hu Run's list was cruder, with noticeably more generalized data.

It also favored the real estate industry, with a large number of individuals on the list coming from real estate and related fields.

Yan Li was the only entertainment industry figure on the list; the two brothers from Huayi Brothers did not make it.

Guangxian's Wang did make the list, but Guangxian's core business was still media, with its film and television division not yet prominent.

Although Hu Run's influence had grown over the past two years, it still lagged far behind Forbes; the public and industry still largely recognized Forbes.

Hu Run's list served more as supplementary validation for Forbes.

For instance, after both Forbes and Hu Run recognized him, Yan Li's one-billion-yuan fortune became an established fact.

A single character—"yi" versus "shi yi"—made a massive difference.

The former might still include some lucky individuals; the latter were almost all entrepreneurs with substantial scale.

Many well-known business magnates today had personal fortunes at this level, with only the leading digits varying.

In this era of manufacturing wealth myths, Yan Li didn't need to lift a finger—he was already elevated to godlike status by media and fans.

His influence extended beyond China, reaching Japan, Korea, and even Europe and America.

The story of a young self-made billionaire (in U. S. dollars) was universally appealing worldwide.

Another point worth noting: Yan Li was handsome.

Zuckerberg in the U. S. was younger than Yan Li and far wealthier, but he was unattractive, introverted, and had few tabloid stories.

Yan Li was tall, with a rugged, masculine face, a muscular build, and an extremely strong aura, radiating unmistakable masculinity.

He might not qualify as a top-tier beauty, but his look appealed widely across both Eastern and Western cultures.

People say men value substance and ability, not looks.

That statement was clearly biased; yes, men value ability and substance, but if appearance or image is also striking, the combined effect becomes unstoppable.

Just look at political and business elites, cultural figures, and sports stars: given equal ability, those with better images always dominated in popularity.

In fact, image can even help bridge gaps in actual ability.

In foreign elections, countless examples exist of men rising to power purely on looks.

In sports, Beckham's commercial value and cross-cultural popularity exceeded the combined total of Ronaldo and Zidane, despite their superior skills and honors.

Yan Li was now the same: young and rich was already enough, but young and handsome made him impossible to ignore.

As a result, beyond the flood of domestic interview requests, Yan Li received many from foreign media.

Yan Li carefully selected them, prioritizing foreign interviews whenever possible.

It wasn't that Yan Li was pro-foreign or sycophantic; the current environment simply treated foreign approval as superior—foreign recognition was crucial for shaping his image and boosting his influence.

To put it bluntly, a hundred articles by domestic media couldn't match the impact of one compliment from abroad.

This mindset wasn't limited to media and the public; even official circles placed great importance on "international influence."

A "China's outstanding entrepreneur" and a "world-class young leader" carried entirely different weights in many people's eyes.

Yan Li didn't care how foreigners viewed him, but he cared deeply about how domestic audiences needed foreigners to view him.

This was also an opportunity for Yan Li to make a statement.

These days, many who give foreign interviews try to fit themselves into Western ideologies, emphasizing self and life philosophy, sometimes even subtly criticizing China.

Yan Li was different: he couldn't even speak English well, and insisted on Chinese-only interviews.

Though he occasionally promoted self-motivation, he always specifically thanked the era, and firmly affirmed China's economic prospects, insisting China would become a globally pivotal power within one or two decades.

Honestly, public intellectuals were rampant, and "two-devils" were everywhere.

Even those who weren't "two-devils" often held conservative or even pessimistic views toward China.

Yan Li, who firmly supported and believed in China, was a minority voice.

Combined with his status as the most influential entrepreneur among the younger generation and a representative of the post-80s cohort, his statement carried real weight.

Had his personal conduct been less controversial and his reputation less disputed, he would almost certainly have been named one of the "Top Ten Outstanding Youth of 2006," but official awards hesitated due to moral concerns.

Even so, by the time of the Spring Festival, a young figure like his began appearing at relevant meetings.

Beyond rising public and official recognition, in the business world, the disadvantages and scrutiny tied to his youth had greatly diminished—he had truly become a top figure in business, gaining widespread recognition and even active overtures.

For instance, Yan Li "heard" that certain meetings and forums had listed him as a key candidate for evaluation.

On one hand, Yan Li was young with enormous growth potential, and many saw great promise in him.

On the other hand, Yan Li was one of the leading figures in the film and entertainment industry.

As always, the film and entertainment industry might not have massive scale, but its latent value was high, and its complementarity with other sectors made it an excellent partner.

Originally, this role had been filled primarily by the Wang brothers, but Yan Li's meteoric rise made him a newer, superior choice for many.

Yan Li did not reject contact or collaboration with major business figures; it brought substantial benefits to him and his companies like Yi'an.

Why did business magnates form cliques? Because mutual cooperation and resource sharing benefited everyone.

Being antisocial and hoarding resources might be acceptable in other professions, but in business, it was always more harmful than beneficial.

Beyond the favor of these magnates, Yan Li also gained solutions to many needs in funding, talent, and channels.

The halo of a 26-year-old billionaire could convince investors to fund him more, attract more elite talent to work for him, and make more partners eager to collaborate with him.

Take, for example, the future CEO of Weibo whom Yan Li wanted to recruit.

He was currently a senior executive at Sina, with a solid position and promising future; if a startup tried to poach him, he wouldn't even glance their way.

Why leave a top industry giant to join you?

But if Yan Li made the offer, it was a different story—given sufficient incentives and prospects, he might be willing to take a gamble.

All such core executives are like this; it goes without saying for lower-tier executives and technical talent.

Many talents cannot be retained merely by salary—they care about future returns.

Yan Li's display of wealth and persona-building are aimed precisely at this.

With insufficient background and connections, one must compensate with reputation and halo; talents and money lured by "persuasion" can still be used and spent.

As for the direct operations of Yi'an Cinema Chain and Yi'an Film projects, they need no mention—Yan Li can even use his own halo to attract investment for Tudou. com.

Tudou. com's market share, combined with Yan Li as a celebrity shareholder, makes capital markets view it more favorably.

Several institutions have openly stated that their investment in Tudou. com is motivated by Yan Li.

Yan Li seized this opportunity and intentionally participated in Tudou. com's fundraising efforts.

This way, he could attract capital aligned with himself and extend his reach into Tudou. com's internal operations, expanding his voice and influence within it.

So far, Yan Li does not wish to directly clash with Wang Wei's team.

But he has consciously begun to bind himself to Tudou. com to a certain degree.

Most ordinary people and netizens have little understanding of shareholding systems and corporate authority, bluntly equating shareholders with company owners.

Online, many believe Tudou. com's owner is Yan Li.

This is partly true and partly false, but Yan Li seized on this and began laying groundwork to deepen this public perception.

At present, Yan Li's presence on the front stage—his fame and halo—can undoubtedly benefit Tudou. com's development; even within Tudou. com, many likely support this approach.

Yet as Yan Li's bond with Tudou. com deepens, the world will know only Yan Li and forget the true founder, Wang Wei.

At that point, who will truly be Tudou. com's leader?

…

In mid-January, Yan Li attended the opening ceremony of the Yi'an Cinema in Shenzhen, the first five-star cinema of the Yi'an Cinema Chain.

At this stage, the first batch of Yi'an Cinema Chain theaters are gradually completed; after the Spring Festival, nearly all will be in place.

Construction of some theaters in the second batch has already begun.

To be honest, this pace is slower than originally anticipated—Yan Li had planned to scale up operations by late 2006.

The cinema construction progress itself is acceptable; the main issue lies with the cinema chain and personnel.

Yi'an Cinema Chain aims for mid-to-high-end theaters, designing a cinema ecosystem with specific requirements for management teams, service staff, and more.

The slower pace is largely due to this, with other factors also contributing to varying degrees.

How to put it? Real industry—especially nationwide chain operations—is indeed more complex than Yan Li imagined.

Fortunately, overall progress remains smooth; the original goal of completing all preliminary cinema construction and forming a cinema network by the end of 2007 remains unchanged.

Meanwhile, Yan Li has continuously raised funds to ensure that when Yi'an Cinema Chain's cash burn ends, fresh capital is immediately available.

This has gone smoothly enough, but Yan Li intentionally invested less this time, choosing to keep capital in the bull market to wait for the coming financial crisis.

In plain terms, Yan Li is eyeing a bottom-fishing opportunity.

Not only does he plan to bottom-feed on other cinema chains outside Yi'an, but also on other shareholders within the chain, accumulating sufficient shares for the next round of fundraising.

Of course, for reputation's sake, Yan Li only considers diluting some shareholders' stakes to secure his own interests and voice, without ousting original shareholders entirely.

If you follow someone, and you profit by leveraging your judgment of market conditions, that's your skill.

But if you use someone and then cut the bridge behind you, kicking them out, who will ever work with Yan Li again?

Yan Li doesn't care about some reputations, but he cares deeply about his commercial credibility—many things must be targeted and leave room for maneuver.

Returning from Shenzhen, Yan Li followed up on various tasks until Secretary Hu Ya reminded him of one thing.

He still has a lead role in the TV drama "The Legend of Xue Rengui."

The drama has been completed and negotiated for distribution, sold to four provincial satellite channels—Shandong, Jiangsu, Tianjin, and Hebei—and will air after the Spring Festival.

That means Yan Li must find time to promote this drama!

Yan Li was speechless—he hadn't acted in over half a year, hadn't been involved in any production work, and had almost forgotten he was still an actor.

Having signed the contract and received payment, he naturally had to cooperate with promotion; he did not refuse or evade.

In fact, if "The Legend of Xue Rengui" succeeds, it will benefit him to some extent.

After all, popular TV dramas have immense reach, and the character Xue Rengui is quite likable, enhancing his image.

Yan Li is now famous, but also controversial.

How do actors cleanse their image? Through works—even though Yan Li is not a pure actor, this tactic still works for him.

Most ordinary people have simple likes and dislikes; countless examples exist of audiences forming a positive filter for an actor because of a specific role or film.

Yan Li has reaped many benefits from this before, which is one reason he continues acting.

Additionally, Yan Li is among the top candidates for the film "Painted Skin."

Since Yan Li's film and television popularity and drawing power remain debatable, if "The Legend of Xue Rengui" succeeds, it will serve as strong validation and add weight to the film.

However, due to scheduling conflicts, how much promotional work Yan Li can participate in remains to be negotiated.

…

Today's workload was lighter, with no important engagements, so Yan Li canceled everything and left work early.

Fan Xiaopang and Qin Lan were not in Jingcheng.

The former was too busy—after "The Legend of Yang Yuhuan" wrapped, she had no end of events, award ceremonies, and so on; the last time she returned was for the Spring Festival Gala audition rehearsal.

The latter returned home because her father's health had deteriorated and he was hospitalized; Qin Lan went to visit him.

Dong Xuan was in Jingcheng, but with Beijing Film Academy's winter break approaching, she was busy coordinating student departures.

Not wanting to hinder Professor Dong's work, Yan Li took a car to a small neighborhood near Ciyun Temple.

This was Jiang Xin's residence.

She actually had a family home in Jingcheng—her family had moved there long ago to support her when she came to the city to pursue her dreams, and after earning money, they settled permanently. So Jiang Xin usually stayed at home when returning to Jingcheng, but since becoming involved with Yan Li, their secret meetings inevitably became inconvenient.

When a girl goes out, especially when staying overnight outside, her family will inevitably ask questions.

Jiang Xin had her own job and friends; she could fool them once or twice, but if it happened too often, her family wasn't stupid—they'd surely notice something and ask if she was seeing someone.

Jiang Xin couldn't say she'd found a sugar daddy, so she simply moved out.

Living out had many advantages: more freedom than at home, and Yan Li visited her more often.

In terms of favor, Jiang Xin ranked fairly low among Yan Li's many women.

As for Dong Qin and Fan Xiaopang, Li Bingbing had the halo of a popular leading actress, satisfying Yan Li's desire to conquer.

Wang Ou and Yang Rong ranked ahead of her—one was Yan Li's tender little sweetheart, the other had the personality and physique he liked, and both had a bonded combo technique.

Even Jiang Xin might not be more favored than Wu Jiani.

Although the latter had lower visibility, she was more docile, trained in dance, had more positions, and after teaming up with Wang Ou as "Ou-Ni," her status skyrocketed.

Still, although Jiang Xin wasn't favored, Yan Li visited her more often than most of his other women.

The reason was simple: she could take it; Yan Li didn't have to hold back with her.

On this point, when Yan Li simply wanted to sleep, his first thought was Fan Xiaopang, his second was her.

He opened the door and entered; Jiang Xin wasn't in the living room—he found her asleep in the bedroom.

After finishing "The Legend of Yang Yuhuan," she immediately joined the set of "Demon Sword, Life and Death Chess," only returning to Jingcheng yesterday—she was probably catching up on sleep.

Yan Li was a considerate man!

With Jingcheng's bitter cold, he feared Jiang Xin would be too chilly sleeping alone, so he took off his clothes and crawled into bed to warm her.

After much exertion, sweaty Jiang Xin bit his arm in shy annoyance.

"You're tormenting me right after I got back."

Yan Li lit a post-coital cigarette and smirked: "Saying that like you didn't enjoy it."

Jiang Xin's frame could break most men, yet Yan Li always crushed her utterly every time.

How much she truly felt for Yan Li was hard to say, but she was very satisfied with his performance in this regard.

Even with her fiery temper, she sometimes acted like a cat around Yan Li—never snapping back—not just because of his status as her sugar daddy, but largely because she'd truly been broken by him.

As they talked, the doorbell suddenly rang; Jiang Xin's expression changed, but Yan Li remained calm.

"Who is it?"

"I don't know."

Jiang Xin hadn't lived here long, and she hadn't stayed here recently; few people knew her address.

"Go answer it. I'll get dressed."

Yan Li soothed the startled Jiang Xin—it wasn't a big deal.

Even if they found him, what could they do? He wasn't married, she wasn't married—two young people socializing, was that illegal?

Unless…

"Dong Xuan doesn't know about this place, right?"

Yan Li asked—he only feared Dong Xuan might come to catch him in the act, not because he was afraid, but because it would be too awkward.

"I never told her."

Jiang Xin wasn't stupid—if Dong Xuan found out she'd stolen her man, she might not be able to touch Yan Li, but she'd definitely find a way to punish Jiang Xin.

Besides, Jiang Xin herself knew she'd acted unethically and felt guilty, so she'd always avoided Dong Xuan.

"Good."

Yan Li calmed down—if it wasn't Dong Xuan, even if Jiang Xin's parents showed up, he wasn't afraid.

Jiang Xin threw on a robe, tidied her hair, opened the bedroom door, and left; Yan Li locked the door behind her and began dressing—if it really was her parents, he wasn't afraid, but he couldn't stay the night.

…

"Who is it?"

A young woman's voice came from outside: "It's me, Yang Xue."

Hearing this, Jiang Xin visibly relaxed.

Among the Seven Fairies, Jiang Xin was closest to Dong Xuan and Yang Xue—especially with Yang Xue, their bond was strongest; they'd worked together on multiple dramas.

Jiang Xin and Dong Xuan weren't really best friends—especially after Jiang Xin became Yan Li's woman, she deliberately distanced herself; now they were merely acquaintances.

But Yang Xue and Jiang Xin were unquestionably best friends.

How to put it? Yang Xue was even closer to Dong Xuan than Jiang Xin was—barely qualified as Dong Xuan's good sister.

Dong Xuan liked Yang Xue, their relationship was good, and Yang Xue's status in Dong Xuan's circle ranked just below old classmates like Guan Yue and Yin Xu.

Yet Yang Xue's good relationship with Fan Xiaopang always made Dong Xuan hold back.

Loyalty that isn't absolute is absolute disloyalty!

Put nicely, Yang Xue knew how to handle people—everyone liked her.

Put harshly, didn't that mean Yang Xue played both sides, never offending anyone, never truly bonding with anyone?

Fan Xiaopang had poor social skills and was used to being arrogant—he didn't care about such matters and could accept the smooth-talking Li Lin.

Not to mention that now, Li Lin outwardly got along with everyone, but privately had already begun leaning toward Fan Xiaopang.

Dong Xuan had Guan Yue and others—she didn't need a "polite-to-all" Yang Xue.

Yang Xue understood this well, but both Fan Xiaopang and Dong Xuan had helped her; she didn't want to pick a side.

This way was fine enough—though not the most trusted, everyone treated her well, and she got her share of benefits; Yang Xue wasn't ambitious by nature and felt this was enough.

Compared to the complexity of Dong and Fan, Yang Xue and Jiang Xin's relationship was simple—no entanglements of interest, just pure work and play together.

Jiang Xin had few friends and regarded Yang Xue as her best friend.

Yang Xue, though popular, felt most at ease with Jiang Xin and thus saw her as her best sister.

So when she heard Jiang Xin had finished filming and returned to Jingcheng, Yang Xue quickly came over to visit.

Since her best friend had come, Jiang Xin couldn't shut the door on her—she opened it and let her in.

When Yang Xue walked in, she was startled by Jiang Xin's appearance.

"Why is your face so red?"

"Red?"

Jiang Xin touched her face—it was indeed warm, and a light sweat clung to her forehead from exertion and nerves, clearly unusual.

"I caught a chill yesterday. A bit of a fever."

"A fever?"

Yang Xue reached out and felt Jiang Xin's forehead, then compared it to her own: "Not that hot. Did you take your temperature? What was it?"

"It started this morning. After sleeping, I felt much better. Didn't you see the sweat all over me? That's from being bundled up."

Jiang Xin thought she was a genius—every anomaly fit perfectly, her logic flawless.

Yang Xue didn't doubt her; she just hurried Jiang Xin to sit down: "You just got better—don't tire yourself. Rest more."

"Mm-hmm."

Jiang Xin sat down, pondering how to trick Yang Xue into leaving, when she saw the other girl heading toward the bedroom—she was startled.

"What are you doing?!"

Yang Xue was startled too, giving her a confused look: "I'm getting you some clothes. Wearing just your pajamas, you'll catch a chill from the sweat."

"No need—the heating's enough. I'm much better now. Too thick and hot."

Jiang Xin stood up and pulled Yang Xue back, her panic visibly clear. Yang Xue glanced at her, then glanced toward the bedroom. Both were adults—she instantly connected the dots, her tone tinged with teasing.

"Are you really running a fever… or are you just horny?"

Jiang Xin regretted it so much she wanted to slap herself—why did she say fever or cold? Why not just say she did yoga to lose weight?

If she'd just said she sweated from exercise, Yang Xue would never have gone into the bedroom to fetch her clothes.

Yang Xue didn't care whether Jiang Xin regretted it; now that she knew her best friend was in love, she pushed her to bring the boyfriend out for a look.

"You dare hide this from me? Call him out right now—I'll vet him for you."

Jiang Xin had no way to explain—Yang Xue didn't know about her relationship with Yan Li.

First, stealing Dong Xuan's man was shameful; she feared Yang Xue would look down on her.

Second, Yang Xue was close to Fan Xiaopang and Dong Xuan—she feared Yang Xue might tell them, even by accident.

"Let's meet later—I haven't decided yet."

"What's the big deal about meeting? He's a grown man—afraid of people? I won't gossip."

Yang Xue thought Jiang Xin was acting strangely today. Normally blunt and open, Jiang Xin was now hesitant, evasive—nothing like her usual self.

"I'm begging you—next time I'll tell you everything. Just leave now."

Jiang Xin was tense and embarrassed, even pleading. Yang Xue saw her expression and understood something—her smile faded.

"Fine. If you don't want to say, I won't press. I'll go now—we'll talk later."

Jiang Xin quickly saw Yang Xue out the door. When she heard the door close, Yan Li stepped out of the bedroom.

"Gone?"

Jiang Xin nodded, then couldn't help asking: "Do you think she figured it out?"

"Hard to say."

Yan Li had been listening from the bedroom the whole time. Based on Jiang Xin's behavior, Yang Xue would surely suspect something was off in there.

She'd realize Jiang Xin wasn't in a normal romantic relationship—there was something hidden.

But there were plenty of hidden things!

Yang Xue might not guess what exactly, or even think of him. At least if it were Yan Li himself, his imagination would run wild—and filthy.

Wrong!

Yan Li suddenly realized something—he'd been eavesdropping from the bedroom. What if Yang Xue pretended to leave, then snuck back to listen?

Thinking this, Yan Li hurried to the door, flung it open—and stared, expression complex, at Yang Xue crouched outside.

Yang Xue looked at Yan Li, so embarrassed she wished she could crawl into the ground.

She swore on her life—she hadn't come to gossip. She was worried about Jiang Xin.

Jiang Xin had refused entry and pleaded so desperately, Yang Xue thought she might be threatened—or in danger—so she pretended to leave, then returned to eavesdrop.

If Jiang Xin was fine, she'd walk away. If something harmful was happening, she'd keep it secret.

If Jiang Xin was in trouble, she'd call for help—or the police—before her best friend got hurt.

But she never expected to hear the voice of Dong Xuan's man—Yan Li.

Neither expected Yan Li to react so fast—she'd only heard two sentences before being caught red-handed.

Yang Xue was embarrassed. Jiang Xin was even more embarrassed.

All their precautions, and still they'd failed. Yang Xue now knew Jiang Xin was with Yan Li—how would she see her? Would she tell Dong Xuan and Fan Xiaopang?

But Yan Li remained calm—he'd already slept with seven fairies; one more knowing didn't matter.

Besides, Yang Xue wasn't stupid. She wouldn't blab. Even if she didn't care about Jiang Xin, she'd still fear offending Yan Li.

An awkward silence stretched for two minutes—then Yan Li spoke first: "How about we get dinner?"

Yang Xue snapped back, waving frantically: "No, no—I'm leaving now. Today never happened. I saw nothing. I know nothing."

—

ps: First day of the month—requesting base monthly votes

(End of Chapter)