Chapter 251: Deepening Personal Aura and the Seven Fairies, Part Six

Soon after the Forbes list was released, Hu Run also published his 2006 Rich List.

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

Forbes's richest man, Old Huang, 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 beyond 300th, with assets of only one billion yuan.

Clearly, 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 did not make it.

Guangxian's Old Wang did make it, but Guangxian's core business was still media, with its film and television segment 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 acknowledged him, Yan Li's one-billion-yuan fortune became an established fact.

A single character—"billion" versus "ten billion"—makes a vast difference.

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

Many well-known business magnates today have personal fortunes at this level, with only minor variations in the leading digits.

In this era of manufacturing wealth myths, Yan Li didn't even need to act himself—he was lifted to celebrity 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. . dollars) was universally appealing worldwide.

Another point worth noting: Yan Li was handsome.

Zuckerberg in the U. . was younger than Yan Li and far wealthier, but he was unattractive, introverted, and rarely made tabloid headlines.

Yan Li was tall, with a rugged, strong build and an intense aura, radiating unmistakable masculinity.

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

People say men value substance and ability, not looks.

That's a biased view—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 leaders, cultural icons, and sports stars: among equals, the better-looking always dominate in popularity.

Even more, image can help offset gaps in actual ability.

In foreign elections, countless examples prove that looks can propel someone to power.

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

Yan Li was 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; the current climate treated foreign approval as superior, and overseas recognition was crucial for shaping his image and boosting his influence.

Put bluntly, a hundred articles from 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 high value on "international influence."

A Chinese outstanding entrepreneur and a world-class young talent carried entirely different weight in many people's eyes.

Yan Li didn't care how foreigners viewed him, but he cared deeply about how foreigners' views of him affected domestic perception.

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 barely spoke English and insisted on Chinese-only interviews.

Though he occasionally promoted self-motivation, he always emphasized gratitude toward the era, firmly believing in China's economic prospects and asserting that within ten to twenty years, China would become a globally pivotal force.

Honestly, with public intellectuals running rampant and "second-generation traitors" everywhere, this was no small thing.

Even those who weren't traitors often held conservative or pessimistic views toward China.

Yan Li's firm support and optimism for China were rare.

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 China's Ten Outstanding Youth in 2006—official awards in moral categories were hesitant to include him.

Even so, by the time of the Spring Festival, a young figure had begun appearing at relevant meetings.

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

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 top figures in film and entertainment.

As always, while the film and entertainment industry's scale might be modest, its latent value was high, and its synergy with other sectors made it an excellent partner.

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

Yan Li didn't mind engaging with or collaborating with major business figures—it benefited him and companies like Yian greatly.

Why do business magnates form cliques? Because mutual cooperation and resource sharing benefit everyone.

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

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

The aura of a ten-billion-yuan billionaire at age twenty-six could convince investors to fund him more, attract elite talent to work for him, and make partners more willing to collaborate.

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

He was already a senior executive at Sina, with a solid position and future prospects; a startup trying to recruit him would be ignored.

Why leave a top industry player for you?

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

This applied even more to mid-level executives and technical talent.

Many talents weren't swayed by salary alone—they cared about future returns.

Yan Li's display of wealth and image-building targeted precisely this.

With insufficient background and connections, he had to rely on his reputation and aura—convincing talent and capital that they were still usable and spendable.

The direct operations of Yian Cinema and Yian Film projects need no mention; Yan Li could even use his aura to attract investment for Tudou. om.

Tudou. om's market share, combined with Yan Li as a celebrity shareholder, made the capital market view it more favorably.

Several institutions openly stated they invested in Tudou. om because of Yan Li.

Yan Li seized this opportunity and actively participated in Tudou. om's fundraising efforts.

This allowed him to bring in pro-Yan capital and extend his influence into Tudou. om's internal operations, expanding his voice and clout within the company.

So far, Yan Li had no intention of directly clashing with Wang Wei's team.

But he had consciously begun tying himself to Tudou. om to a certain degree.

Most ordinary people and netizens understood little about shareholding or corporate governance, and crudely equated shareholders with company owners.

Online, many believed Tudou. om's owner was Yan Li.

This was partly true—and Yan Li, realizing this, began cultivating and deepening this public perception.

For now, Yan Li's presence in the spotlight, with his fame and aura, could only benefit Tudou. om's development—even within Tudou. om, many likely supported this approach.

But as Yan Li's bond with Tudou. om grew deeper, the public would know only Yan Li, not the true founder, Wang Wei.

At that point, who would truly be Tudou. om's leader?

…

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

At this stage, the first batch of Yian Cinema Chain theaters were gradually completed and would all be operational after the Spring Festival.

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

Honestly, this pace was slower than originally planned; Yan Li had intended to begin large-scale rollout by the second half of 2006.

Theater construction itself was progressing well; the main delays stemmed from issues with the cinema chain and personnel.

Yian Cinema Chain aimed for mid-to-high-end theaters, designing a cinema ecosystem with specific requirements for management teams and service staff.

The slower pace was largely due to this, along with other minor factors that also contributed.

In short, real estate, especially nationwide chain operations, was more complex than Yan Li had imagined.

Fortunately, overall progress remained smooth; the original goal of completing all preliminary Yian Cinema Chain theaters and establishing the network by 2007 remained unchanged.

Meanwhile, Yan Li continued raising funds to ensure immediate capital replenishment once Yian Cinema Chain's cash burn ended.

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

In plain terms, Yan Li was eyeing a bargain.

He aimed not only to buy low from other cinema chains outside Yian, but also to acquire shares from other shareholders within the chain, accumulating enough equity for the next round of financing.

Of course, for reputation's sake, Yan Li only considered diluting other shareholders' stakes to protect his own interests and influence, without pushing original shareholders out entirely.

If you join forces with someone, and you profit by correctly judging market conditions, that's your skill.

But if you exploit others and then kick them out, who would ever work with Yan Li again?

Yan Li didn't care about some reputations, but he cared deeply about his business credibility—many things required precision and left room for maneuver.

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

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

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

In other words, Yan Li still had to 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.

After signing the contract and receiving the payment, he naturally had to cooperate with the promotion; Yu Yanli didn't refuse or make excuses.

In fact, if "The Legend of Xue Rengui" performed well, it would still benefit him to some extent.

After all, popular TV dramas have extremely strong dissemination power, and the character of Xue Rengui is quite likable, which helps his image.

Yu Yanli is now famous, but also highly controversial.

Actors cleanse their reputations through works—of course. Even though Yu Yanli isn't a pure actor, this tactic still works on him.

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

Yu Yanli had tasted many sweet rewards before, and this is one reason he's willing to keep acting.

Also, Yu Yanli is one of the top candidates for the movie "Painted Skin."

Since Yu Yanli's film and TV popularity and drawing power are questionable, if "The Legend of Xue Rengui" succeeds, it will serve as strong evidence and add weight to the movie.

However, due to scheduling conflicts, how much promotion Yu Yanli can participate in remains to be discussed.

…

Today's workload was lighter, and there were no important engagements, so Yu Yanli simply canceled everything and left work early.

Fan Xiaopang and Qin Lan weren't in Jingcheng.

The former was too busy; after "The Legend of Yang Yuhuan" wrapped, she kept attending events, award ceremonies, and hadn't stopped since. The last time she returned was for the Spring Festival Gala audition rehearsal.

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

Dong Qin was in Jingcheng, but with Beidian's winter break approaching, she was busy coordinating student departures and was also occupied.

Not wanting to hinder Teacher Dong's work, Yu Yanli took a car to a small residential area 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 capital to pursue her dreams, and later, after earning money, they settled permanently. So Jiang Xin usually stayed at home when returning to Jingcheng, but after becoming involved with Yu Yanli, their secret meetings inevitably became inconvenient.

When a girl goes out, especially when she stays overnight outside, her family will naturally 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 notice something was off and ask if she was dating someone.

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

Living on her own had many advantages: more freedom than at home, and Yu Yanli visited her more often.

In terms of affection, Jiang Xin ranked relatively low among Yu Yanli's many women.

Dong Qin and Fan Xiaopang aside, Li Bing had the halo of a top leading actress, satisfying Yu Yanli's desire to conquer.

Wang Ou and Yang Rong ranked ahead of her; one was Yu Yanli's attentive little sweetheart, the other had the personality and physique he liked, and both had a powerful synergy as a pair.

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

Though the latter had lower visibility, she was more docile, trained in dance, and had more positions; after combining with Wang Ou as "Ou-Ni," her popularity surged.

Still, though Jiang Xin wasn't favored, the number of times Yu Yanli visited her was among the highest among all his women.

The reason was simple: she could take it—he didn't have to hold back with her.

On those nights when Yu Yanli just wanted to sleep, his first thought was Fan Xiaopang, and his second was her.

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

After "The Legend of Yang Yuhuan" wrapped, she immediately joined the cast of "The Magic Sword of Life and Death," and only just returned to Jingcheng yesterday; she was probably catching up on sleep.

Yu Yanli was a considerate man!

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

After much exertion, Jiang Xin, drenched in sweat, bit his arm in playful annoyance.

"You're tormenting me the moment I get back."

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

Jiang Xin's body was too much for most men to handle, yet Yu Yanli always left her utterly defeated.

How much she truly loved him 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 Yu Yanli—never snapping back. Beyond his status as her sugar daddy, a large part of it was because she'd truly been broken by him.

As they talked, the doorbell suddenly rang. Jiang Xin's expression changed instantly, but Yu Yanli remained calm.

"Who is it?"

"I don't know."

Jiang Xin hadn't lived here long, and she hadn't stayed here recently; very few people knew about this residence.

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

Yu Yanli calmed 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 adults meeting up, was that illegal?

Unless…

"Does Dong Xin know about this place?"

Yu Yanli asked, his only concern being Dong Xin catching him in the act—not out of fear, but sheer embarrassment.

"I never told her."

Jiang Xin wasn't stupid; if Dong Xin found out she'd stolen her man, she might not be able to touch Yu Yanli, but she'd definitely find a way to ruin Jiang Xin.

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

"Then it's fine."

Yu Yanli relaxed. As long as it wasn't Dong Xin, even if Jiang Xin's parents showed up, he wasn't afraid.

Jiang Xin quickly threw on a robe, combed her hair, opened the bedroom door, and left. Yu Yanli locked the door behind her and began dressing; if it were her parents, he wasn't afraid—but he wouldn'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 Xin and Yang Xue; among them, her bond with Yang Xue was the strongest—they'd worked together on multiple projects.

Jiang Xin and Dong Xin weren't really close friends, especially after Jiang Xin became involved with Yu Yanli; 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 Xin than Jiang Xin was—barely qualified as Dong Xin's good sister.

Dong Xin had a good impression of Yang Xue; their relationship was strong, and Yang Xue's status in Dong Xin's circle ranked just below old classmates like Guan Yue and Yin Xu.

But Yang Xue's good rapport with Fan Xiaopang always made Dong Xin keep some distance.

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 she played both sides, never offending anyone, never truly bonding with anyone?

Fan Xiaopang had poor social skills and was used to being arrogant; she didn't care about such trivial matters and could accept Li Lin's smooth-talking ways.

Not to mention that Li Lin, though outwardly friendly to everyone, had already begun leaning toward Fan Xiaopang behind the scenes.

Dong Xin had Guan Yue and others around her—she didn't need another "polite-to-all" Yang Xue.

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

This way was fine: though not the most trusted, everyone treated her well, and she got her share of benefits. Yang Xue wasn't particularly ambitious—she was content with this.

Compared to the complexity between Dong Xin and Fan Xiaopang, Jiang Xin and Yang Xue's relationship was simple: no financial entanglements, just pure work and play together.

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

Yang Xue, though popular with everyone, felt most at ease with Jiang Xin and considered her her best sister.

So when she heard Jiang Xin had wrapped 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.

But the moment Yang Xue stepped inside, she was startled by Jiang Xin's appearance.

"Why is your face so red?"

"Red?"

Jiang Xin touched her cheek—it was indeed warm, and her forehead still had a light sheen of sweat from exertion and nervousness; it was clearly unusual.

"I caught a chill yesterday, had a slight fever."

"A fever?"

Yang Xue reached out and touched 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, but after sleeping, I felt better. Haven't you seen all my sweat? That's from being bundled up."

Jiang Xin thought she was brilliant—she'd explained every anomaly perfectly, with flawless logic.

Yang Xue didn't suspect a thing; she hurriedly made Jiang Xin sit down: "You just recovered, don't tire yourself—rest more."

"Mm-hmm."

Jiang Xin sat down, pondering how to trick Yang Xue into leaving, when she saw the latter heading toward the bedroom—she froze.

"What are you doing?!"

Yang Xue was startled too, glancing at her oddly: "I'm getting you some clothes. Wearing just a robe, you'll catch a chill from the sweat."

"No need—the heating's fine. I'm much better now; too thick and I'll overheat."

Jiang Xin stood up and pulled Yang Xue back, her panic obvious. Yang Xue glanced at her, then glanced toward the bedroom. Adults understood instantly—she smirked teasingly.

"Are you really sick… or just horny?"

Jiang Xin regretted it—she wanted to slap herself. Why did she say "fever" or "cold"? She could've just said she did yoga or was trying to lose weight.

If she'd just said she'd exercised and sweated, Yang Xue wouldn't have gone into the bedroom to fetch clothes.

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

"You dare hide something like this from me? Call them out—I'll give you my opinion."

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

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

Second, Yang Xue was close to Fan and Dong; she feared Yang Xue might tell them—even an accidental slip would be enough to ruin her.

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

"What's the harm in meeting? You're a grown man, afraid of seeing someone? I won't blab."

Yang Xue thought Jiang Xin seemed strange today—normally blunt and open, she was now hesitant, evasive, unlike her usual self.

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

Jiang Xin looked nervous and embarrassed, even pleading. Yang Xue saw her expression and suddenly understood—her smile faded.

"Fine. If you don't want to say, I'll go. We'll talk later."

Jiang Xin hurried Yang Xue out the door. Hearing the door close, Yan Li stepped out of the bedroom.

"She's 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. Based on Jiang Xin's behavior, Yang Xue would surely suspect something was off in there.

She understood Jiang Xin wasn't in a normal romantic relationship—it was something shameful.

But there were plenty of shameful things!

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

No!

Yan Li suddenly realized something: if he could eavesdrop from the bedroom, what if Yang Xue pretended to leave, then snuck back to listen?

Thinking this, Yan Li hurried to the door, opened it, and stared with a complex expression at Yang Xue, who was crouching outside.

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

On her honor, she hadn't meant to eavesdrop—she was only worried about Jiang Xin.

Jiang Xin had refused her entry and pleaded with her; Yang Xue had feared she was being threatened or in danger, so she pretended to leave, then returned to listen.

If Jiang Xin was fine, she'd leave quietly. If something harmful was happening, she'd keep it to herself.

If Jiang Xin was in trouble, she'd rush to find help or call the police—so her best friend wouldn't get 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 so.

All her precautions had failed. Yang Xue knew how she'd view her now—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 lasted two minutes before Yan Li spoke first: "How about we grab a meal?"

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

—

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

(End of Chapter)