Chapter 259: Yi

In Li Xiao's mind, once she convinced Hu Siyan, the next step would be to easily win over Yan Li, enjoy new freedom, and annoy Li Chen again.

But after actually trying, she realized she'd thought it was too simple.

Yan Li was not Li Chen, someone you could summon and dismiss at will.

He held high status, was busy with work, had strong opinions, and had many women around him; ordinary women couldn't even dream of seducing him, let alone getting close.

Moreover, Li Xiao realized she'd overestimated Hu Siyan.

She'd assumed Hu was some favored concubine, but now it seemed Yan Li didn't take her seriously at all—he saw her more as a tool, and in truth, it was Hu Siyan who was clinging to Yan Li desperately.

Li Xiao was stunned.

She babble, cajoled, and threatened for hours, only to end up with a "pig teammate" who couldn't even get Yan Li to show up.

Hu Siyan was also embarrassed, like a gamer who spent hours studying guides, thinking she could dominate, only to find her level too low to even enter the dungeon.

But for Hu Siyan, this wasn't necessarily bad.

She'd been forced into helping anyway, she'd actually helped, and if she lacked ability, how could anyone blame her?

Hu Siyan wanted to stall, hoping Li Xiao's decision had been impulsive—that once she cooled down and reconciled with Li Chen, the whole thing might just fade away.

But while Hu Siyan wanted to dodge, Li Xiao grew more determined.

She considered herself famous and beautiful, raised since childhood as a little princess, always pampered and adored wherever she went; now that even her initiative to approach them had failed, it truly ignited her rebellious spirit.

But no matter how determined she became, it was useless—Yan Li was busy and had no time for nonsense, and Qin Lan had returned.

Qin Lan still carried weight; at least Hu and Li felt uneasy around her, especially Hu, who feared a disaster and urged Li Xiao to proceed slowly.

Unable to corner Yan Li and with Qin Lan in charge, Li Xiao had no good options and temporarily suppressed her thoughts, waiting for a better opportunity.

Yan Li didn't know Li Xiao was targeting him.

There was no way—he had too many people after him; the system couldn't trigger them all, and Li Xiao's relationship with Yan Li was average, with no strong actions, so the trigger probability was low.

Compared to Li Xiao, it was Bai Bing who triggered a piece of intelligence.

She was underappreciated at Ying Huang, with meager resources; her agent heard she knew Yan Li and urged her to greet the big shot more often, to be bold, maybe she'd earn his favor.

After all, she was from the Hong Kong circle, where people viewed such things very openly.

Yan Li didn't pay much attention to Bai Bing—he had no time, and besides, there was Wang Ou.

After that premiere, Yan Li's main focus shifted to the box office of "Love Is a Mysterious Transfer."

Opening day gross: nearly one million; first-week gross: about 6. million; projected total box office expected to surpass 15 million.

This box office wasn't outstanding, but it was quite good, especially compared to the film's budget.

Because the film included many product placements and featured numerous actresses in cameo roles, production costs were kept extremely low.

At least as one of the investors, Yi'an spent very little—just contributed some resources, connections, and favors, reaping pure profit.

A box office of 15 million plus meant about 5 to 6 million in split revenue for the producer and distributor.

Adding other miscellaneous earnings, 8 million was certain, possibly even approaching 10 million; Yi'an held a 50% share, meaning a 4 to 5 million cut.

The profit wasn't huge, but the margin was impressive, and most importantly, it proved Yi'an's new victory in film investment.

Currently, Yi'an's released films in which it held investment and some control were only "Crazy Stone" and "Love Is a Mysterious Transfer."

"Crazy Stone" was a massive hit—some might say it was luck—but now that "Love Is a Mysterious Transfer" had achieved modest success and profit, it couldn't be dismissed as mere luck.

Some film industry insiders already believed Yi'an had unique insight in selecting and managing small-budget film projects.

If Yi'an could establish a foothold in this field and consistently deliver successful small-budget films, it would become a vital pillar of Yi'an Film's development.

As always, whether profits were large or small, the ability to make money in commercial cinema was the real skill—and steady profits greatly benefited the entire company.

Besides, the success of these two small-budget films brought some changes to Yi'an.

Many screenwriters and directors now felt Yi'an favored small-budget projects and had a proven track record, so they were willing to approach Yi'an for collaboration.

Yi'an's internal team reviewed them and actually found several scripts and projects interesting.

One was called "Ten Perfect Beauties," a project organized by Li Xiang, Hunan TV's top female host, with director Wang Yuelun, her suspected boyfriend.

Li Xiang had been in the industry for years, with wide connections and substantial resources at Hunan TV, but she was weak in film.

As previously mentioned, why is the film industry's barrier so high? Because it involves so many channels and resources.

Without real strength, throwing money alone is useless—or rather, the cost-benefit ratio is terrible.

Unless you're deliberately promoting someone and don't care about wasting money, to make money in the film market, you mostly still need to partner with well-funded, resource-rich film companies.

Li Xiang's first choice was Bona, but Yi'an, having excelled in small-budget film operations and rapidly expanding its distribution, was also seen as a quality partner.

Another was "Contract Lover," just a script—a story about renting a girlfriend to take home, only for the fake to become real.

This trope wasn't new, but it remained popular on current forums, with many related short stories and posts.

In short, people who couldn't find partners or were dissatisfied with them fantasized about stumbling upon a "true love."

Whether cohabiting with someone, renting a girlfriend/boyfriend, online chatting or gaming romances, or even a sudden appearance of a beautiful woman or handsome man like in "Love Is a Mysterious Transfer," these had some market among today's youth.

Yi'an's film department thought this script had potential and could be used to promote talent.

But the original script had veered off course—it used the "contract lover" framework but actually told a story of traditional versus modern values.

Yi'an planned to acquire the script, emphasize the "contract lover" hook, center it on the romance, add some comedy elements, and stitch together a few high-quality related short stories to better align with modern youth trends.

Another film, from a female perspective on marriage and romance, was "Peach Blossom Luck."

The director was Ma Liwen, a female director who had won the Golden Rooster Award for Best Director with "We Two," launching a Golden Rooster Best Actress and a Tokyo International Film Festival Best Actress.

Yi'an invested in this film not only because it showed commercial potential but also because they trusted director Ma Liwen and intended to promote actresses and pursue awards.

In short, they were pushing Fan Xiaopang.

Fan Xiaopang, after finishing "Red Cliff" and "Painted Skin" this year, if she had time, her third film would almost certainly be "Peach Blossom Luck."

…

The investments for "Ten Perfect Beauties," "Contract Lover," and "Peach Blossom Luck" were all relatively low.

Especially "Ten Perfect Beauties"—as an investment, and "Peach Blossom Luck," where the production side was led by the director, Yi'an mainly handled distribution.

Only "Contract Lover" was a genuine, fully controlled Yi'an production.

So despite three films, Yi'an's actual investment amount wasn't large, not to mention they could attract other investors.

Beyond these three, "Love Is a Mysterious Transfer 2" was also planned for development, still in cooperation with China Film Group.

Negotiations for "Li Mi's Guess" were progressing smoothly; they couldn't secure the lead actress, but they could push Deng Chao into the spotlight—Cao Baoping had a good impression of Deng.

Plus the previously invested "The Sun Also Rises," "Disciples," and the key project "Painted Skin," that made a total of eight films.

Even among mainland film companies, this was a substantial output.

Of course, some of these films had been invested in long ago, others were still in research and preparation.

So although it looked like a lot, the timeline spanned two or three years, averaging only three or four films per year, and Yi'an's fully controlled projects were less than half.

Yan Li personally felt the pace was slightly larger than he'd originally anticipated, but still within acceptable limits.

There was no choice—previously mentioned, Yan Li initially wanted to establish himself in theaters, root himself in distribution, and focus on small- and medium-budget films, steady and cautious; but once he actually started, it wasn't like that anymore.

The company grew too fast; taking small steps tripped them up, and theaters and distribution needed their own operational support.

Industrial chain, industrial chain—once formed, every link was indispensable; to run smoothly, weaker links had to be strengthened.

So under favorable conditions, Yan Li couldn't be too conservative—he had to spend when necessary.

Fortunately, Yi'an's film business was still going well; TV dramas, advertising, and other businesses continuously provided funds, giving Yan Li the capital to "go wild."

Big steps carried risk, but also benefits.

Seizing early market opportunities, building industry influence sooner, and gaining relevant support and resources.

Put more bluntly, the authorities supported the mainland film and television industry—the bigger you grew, the better you developed, the more attention and importance you received.

Huayi and Bona broke through the crowd for many reasons and advantages, but they certainly couldn't have done it without China Film Group and higher authorities.

Yi'an had caught the critical moment when the mainland market was rapidly rising and every film company was expanding territory; being able to grab a share was ideal.

There were only so many positions; Yan Li and Yi'an had taken one, leaving other companies to watch helplessly.

This could be seen from a meeting held by the Film Bureau in the first lunar month.

Besides China Film Group, Shanghai Film Group, and the Eighth Film Studio, only six private mainland film companies attended.

Huayi, Bona, Starlight, New Picture, Orange Sky, and Yi'an.

The first few were old faces; Yi'an and Orange Sky were "newcomers."

Yi'an needed no elaboration—last year's results were impressive, this year's moves were bold, and it had expanded in multiple areas, considered a highly promising prospect.

Orange Sky's film record wasn't strong, with limited investments, but it had too much money—it poured over a hundred million into "Red Cliff," instantly making its name.

These six weren't the strongest mainland film companies—there were also Taihe, Huayi, Century Hero, and Enlight Media, all with substantial strength.

But these six were genuine film industry operators with tangible achievements and close ties to China Film Group and the Film Bureau, making them distinctly representative.

In short, they were the "insiders."

Yan Li had attended Film Bureau meetings before.

Most topics were recycled—stimulating the market, enhancing mainland film and television culture, and so on—but there were also new insights, such as resource coordination and directional hints.

The former needed no elaboration; the latter was very important.

In film and entertainment, if you couldn't sense the wind or understand the boundaries—what you could and couldn't shoot—you'd die without knowing how.

In addition, the Film Bureau would issue recommendations, which could also be called tasks.

For example, if they felt a certain genre was struggling, or wanted more mainstream or socially oriented works, they hoped companies would try harder and take on more responsibility.

After the meeting ended, everyone returned home, but in reality, they gathered in small groups.

Yu Pangzi invited Yan Li to meet Han Sanye, who agreed—but also invited Orange Sky's Boss Wu.

"Red Cliff" was about to start shooting; Boss Wu, who had contributed greatly, was now Han Sanye's new favorite, so close that even Yu Pangzi, his old subordinate, felt a bit jealous.

Yan Li was fine—he didn't get along with Boss Wu, but out of respect for Han Sanye, he showed nothing.

Han Sanye actually wanted to bring Yan Li and Boss Wu together, but neither was interested, so he gave up.

During meals, "Red Cliff" was inevitably the topic of conversation.

China Film was the lead producer, Orange Sky the producer, BoNa both producer and distributor, and Yi'an—no surprise—was likely also a distributor.

After all, such a big film required ground promotion and strict anti-piracy measures, precisely Yi'an's forte; Grand Master Han had already warned Yan Li beforehand.

Yan Li naturally wouldn't miss this opportunity to train his distribution team and make a small profit—he was just waiting to sign the contract after filming began.

For the lead cast of "Red Cliff," Orange Sky secured many advantages, pushing artists including Hu Jun, Tong Dawei, and You Yongzhi.

The rise of Jin Chengwu and another Japanese actor was also rumored to be tied to Orange Sky and its Japanese capital and market backing.

Aside from Orange Sky, the other major winner in casting for "Red Cliff" was director Wu Baige.

Liang Chaowei was fine—he was one of the few actors capable of replacing Chow Yun-fat after he dropped out, and his relationship with Wu helped him secure the role.

But Zhang Zhen and Zhiling's sister owed their roles entirely to Wu Baige's strong backing, especially Xiao Qiao—fighting hard for that part.

After investing, Orange Sky wanted to promote its top female artist Chen Hao or other Orange Sky actresses, but failed completely.

As for Tong Dawei, rumors said he was originally slated to play Sun Quan, but Wu Baige fiercely defended Zhang Zhen, leaving him with only an original minor soldier role.

So when it came to casting, Boss Wu of Orange Sky was both satisfied and unsatisfied—he believed everyone except Liang and Jin should be Orange Sky artists.

Yan Li, unusually, agreed with him.

At this stage, there are few mainland actors who can carry box office returns, so reliance on Hong Kong and Taiwan's big male stars is understandable—but that doesn't mean we should surrender the hard-won positions of mainland female artists.

A lineup of Hong Kong and Taiwan male stars plus mainland popular leading ladies fits the market and serves everyone's interests; everyone can accept it.

Yet Hong Kong and Taiwan keep pushing their female actresses into roles, eating the meat but refusing to give even the bones or broth—their manners are truly disgusting.

"Don't even mention Hong Kong and Taiwan films they fully fund; for co-productions, we must follow the rules. After all, right now, they're here on the mainland just to make a living."

Yan Li's tone was sharp; Grand Master Han stayed silent; Fatty Yu played with his teacup, while Boss Wu, who had never gotten along with him, nodded.

"Director Yan speaks wisely."

Grand Master Han spoke up to advise: "Hong Kong and Taiwan people are Chinese too; we're all part of the Chinese-language film industry—why draw such clear lines?"

Fatty Yu beside him also nodded: "Harmony brings wealth."

Grand Master Han was the head of China Film; though leaning toward the mainland, many things he couldn't say outright, many matters he couldn't join.

Fatty Yu was close to the Hong Kong circle and focused mainly on distribution, so he didn't care much about these issues.

Yan Li and Boss Wu, though filled with righteous indignation, were also driven by self-interest.

Yan Li was close to Shuang Bing and handled artist management; Boss Wu had a large roster of artists—they both dearly wished Hong Kong and Taiwan artists would just leave, leaving all resources for their own people.

"Grand Master Han and Brother Yu think too kindly of others—we treat them as family, but do they treat us as family?"

"I believe the rise of the film market should be comprehensive: we spend our money, make our films, promote their stars, then get controlled by their big names—that's unhealthy."

"Honestly, when I made 'Painted Skin,' I consciously assembled an all-mainland cast."

"If it succeeds, it proves our mainland popular actors can carry a successful commercial film—this would be a milestone moment."

"…"

Yan Li's words were half-truth, half-deception: using a mainland cast was real, but not nearly as noble as he made it sound.

Shuang Bing had strong ties; for other supporting roles, as long as the actors had some fame, it didn't matter who he picked.

But regardless of his true motives, Yan Li still raised the banner loudly—to impress those above and win favor below.

These big shots didn't feel it deeply, but mainland actors deeply resented Hong Kong and Taiwan artists dominating the industry's privileged positions.

Yan Li wasn't afraid these words would offend some Hong Kong and Taiwan big names—he never intended to deeply bind himself to them anyway.

Those who could cooperate, he'd cooperate with; those who couldn't, it was just fate.

The mainland stars, though still not big enough now, are growing rapidly with huge potential—they'll be the future pillars and backbone of the industry.

By speaking up for them and defending their interests, even exploring the market, Yan Li would greatly enhance his future reputation in the industry.

Truly, it's only because the Four Dan and Shuang Bing have complicated relationships and powerful forces behind them.

Otherwise, Yan Li would have considered uniting Shuang Bing with the Four Dan, then rallying all mainland popular young actresses to overwhelm Hong Kong and Taiwan female artists, seize premium film and TV resources, and even launch a counteroffensive into Hong Kong to act in Hong Kong films and dramas.

In today's market environment, with Hong Kong and Taiwan's older-generation actresses faded and their new and mid-generation actresses lacking strength, this was achievable.

Unfortunately, the Four Dan might not trust Yan Li, and Yan Li truly wasn't worthy of their trust.

Why would he exert so much effort without promoting his own people?

If it were only for the benefit of the entire mainland female artist group, Yan Li wasn't that noble, nor did he have that much spare time…

…

Still, despite saying all that, the idea truly stuck with Yan Li.

While promoting "The Legend of Xue Rengui," Yan Li pulled Li Bingbing and Li Xue into his room to discuss the feasibility of uniting to seize resources.

Li Bingbing and her sister were dragged into Yan Li's room, initially nervous, even prepared to fight to the death to save their sister.

But they didn't expect Yan Li was talking seriously.

After calming down, Li Bingbing hesitated: "You mean, unite to seize Hong Kong and Taiwan resources—is that even possible?"

"Why not? You two, plus Zhou Young Master and the others—team up, kick out the Hong Kong and Taiwan people first, then see who's truly capable."

"…"

Yan Li laid out his idea: ideally, the Four Dan and Shuang Bing should form an alliance, cooperate, first remove outsiders, then fairly distribute resources.

But that was too idealistic—the Four Dan and Shuang Bing could never achieve it.

So just stick to the first step: kick out Hong Kong and Taiwan stars first, then let everyone fight for themselves.

That way, no matter how they fought, the meat stayed in the pot; with five or six people semi-monopolizing, their odds were far better than facing all competitors directly.

Li Bingbing still hesitated, but Li Xue, as an agent, saw real operational potential.

If the Four Dan and Shuang Bing united to exclude one side, Hong Kong and Taiwan actresses couldn't possibly resist.

And if they maintained their synergy, the Four Dan and Shuang Bing could control premium resources, further solidify their advantage, and completely block any rising young actresses from catching up.

Of course, due to fierce competition among the Four Dan and Shuang Bing, Li Xue didn't expect long-term stable cooperation.

But even just uniting on key projects to eliminate rivals and increase individual chances of promotion was still a good thing.

Li Xue thought Yan Li's proposal was good—but would the other Four Dan agree? Those women had already fought like dogs.

"Aren't your sister and Bingbing always fighting when they meet? Yet they still cooperate when needed."

"We're not asking you to make peace—just reach consensus on certain actions. Cooperation brings benefits—who turns down real advantages?"

"If Shuang Bing unites with one or two others, once they taste the sweetness, the rest will come on their own—unless they want to become the ones excluded."

Yan Li understood competition well: once you start, it's hard not to get swept up.

Li Bingbing still doubted it—she still had ties with Fan Xiaopang; the hatred between the Four Dan and Shuang Bing ran too deep to heal.

"Just try it."

Yan Li shrugged: it was just an idea—best if it worked, no loss if it didn't.

Li Xue supported Yan Li and enthusiastically began researching the plan; Shuang Bing needed no persuasion. To bring in a third, the best candidate was Zhou Young Master from Huayi.

Though it would further intensify internal Huayi struggles.

But Zhou Young Master's roles subtly diverged from Shuang Bing's, especially her sister's, and after years of rivalry, they knew each other's teams well enough to share resources.

Li Bingbing glanced at her sister, lost in calculation, then quietly leaned toward Yan Li and whispered:

"Be honest—do you have some hidden agenda?"

This alliance to seize resources among the Four Dan and Shuang Bing—she strongly suspected Yan Li had already finished manipulating Shuang Bing and now wanted the Four Dan.

Yan Li rolled his eyes: "What are you talking about? I'm slaving away for you two—why else would I even bother with this?"

He'd raised Shuang Bing himself—they were practically burning hot; add the Four Dan, and it'd be chaos every day—he had no taste for that…

————

PS: Today's queue took too long—2000 words short; will make up later.

(End of Chapter)