Chapter 261

Yan Li's New Work Is Trending: Chronicling the Legendary Life of Xue Rengui

National Ratings Break 3%, Yan Li Teams Up with Li Bingbing to Bring a Tang Dynasty Love Story to Life

Sensational in Jin Ling: "The Legend of Xue Rengui" Approaches 10% Ratings in Jin Ling and Other Regions, With a Peak Episode Rating of Around 13%

Blog Clicks Surge as Yan Li's New Drama Goes Viral, Cementing His Status as a "Rising Star"

The Film and TV Industry's New Favorite: Multiple Works Are Offering Yan Li Roles, Including Major Projects by Renowned Directors

……

With the drama's popularity, news reports flooded in, and Yan Li's name surged into the spotlight, enjoying a wave of celebrity exposure.

Yan Li had received plenty of exposure before, but mostly behind-the-scenes or in gossip; this time, it felt more like a proper actor's rise, with far more coverage of his acting career.

This was both advantageous and disadvantageous for Yan Li.

The advantage was greater fame.

As previously mentioned, not everyone enjoys tabloids or financial news; Yan Li was well-known, but many still didn't know him.

But the drama's explosive success gave him another channel for recognition—perhaps they didn't know his name was Yan Li, but after watching the show, they knew him as Xue Rengui.

Moreover, Xue Rengui's positive on-screen image significantly enhanced Yan Li's personal image.

Especially Xue Rengui's heroic, rugged appearance and demeanor won him a large number of female fans and young admirers.

As always, the line between character and actor is sometimes hard to draw.

Especially for ordinary viewers and younger audiences, they instinctively merge the TV character with the real person.

Disliking the character leads to disliking the actor; liking the character leads to liking the actor.

Since Xue Rengui was beloved, these viewers and fans extended that affection to Yan Li himself.

In the future, as they learn more, some may be disappointed and leave—or even turn hostile—but others will stay and become loyal fans.

After all, aside from personal conduct, Yan Li's overall qualifications were impressive—every one of them a downgrading-level magnet for fandom in the entertainment industry.

The downside was that he drew considerable attention, bringing some inconvenience to his personal life.

Yan Li used to encounter fans and people who recognized him when going out, but now the frequency had increased dramatically.

Even the property management of Yi'an Company's office building had newly hired additional security personnel to maintain order.

Also, during social engagements, clients and friends would joke with him, asking for autographs and such; Yan Li didn't mind, dismissing it all as jealousy.

My buddy's famous—you want to be famous but can't even manage it.

Yan Li never said it aloud, but he did enjoy this moment of skyrocketing popularity.

He was an actor by training; of course he had this vanity.

When not busy, Yan Li would deliberately leave through the front entrance to sign autographs for fans; his bag always carried special autographed photos and DVDs, and the day before, he had even attended a film and television awards ceremony as a presenter.

In Dong Xuan's words, Yan Li was like a sack on fire—showing off.

"Teacher Dong, such harsh wording—how are you supposed to be a role model?"

Yan Li strongly protested Dong Xuan's remark; Fan Xiaopang had joined the cast of "The Investiture of the Gods 2," Qin Lan was busy promoting "The Qing Dynasty Harem," and Wang Ou and the others were all occupied—so since returning to Jingcheng, Yan Li had basically been staying at Dong Xuan's place.

"You're not my student?"

Dong Xuan rolled her eyes; Yan Li disagreed: "Who says that? I've secretly taken plenty of your physiology classes…"

Before he finished, Dong Xuan clamped her hand over his mouth: "Don't talk nonsense—someone hears this, how am I ever going to live?"

"Then why weren't you worried about this during class?"

Yan Li teased again; seeing Dong Xuan about to snap, he finally put on his own clothes.

"Alright, go play by yourself—I've got evening engagements and won't be back until after 10."

"Drink less."

Dong Xuan stepped forward to straighten his collar, then suddenly remembered something.

"Guan Yue asked me to find her a role—any role, she just wants to get out and clear her head."

Yan Li understood: after the Spring Festival, Guan Yue and Tong Dawei officially broke up; Guan Yue was in poor shape and unsuitable to continue teaching at school, so she planned to take on a drama role, leave Jingcheng, and change her mood.

"Alright, I'll mention it later."

Yi'an now produced, invested in, and distributed many dramas, and could influence several sets; barring unreasonable demands, arranging a role was just one word from Yan Li.

It didn't even require Yan Li—Dong Xuan could handle it privately; mentioning it to him was merely for formality.

After Yan Li left, Dong Xuan called Guan Yue and learned the latter was drinking alone at home, accompanied by her old classmate Yin Xu.

Yin Xu had once been Dong Xuan's closest friend at university, aside from Guan Yue; though they'd grown somewhat distant over the past two years due to various reasons, they'd never lost contact.

Notably, Yin Xu was the first among the three to get married.

Last year, she married Zhang Ziyi's older brother, Zhang Zinan; Guan Yue and Dong Xuan attended the wedding and nearly became bridesmaids.

After marrying, Yin Xu became pregnant and gave birth to a daughter, paused her career, and shifted her focus entirely to family.

Upon hearing this, Dong Xuan drove over to Guan Yue's place; the latter was already slightly drunk, while Yin Xu, still needing to go home to care for her child, had abstained from drinking.

Seeing Dong Xuan, Yin Xu—who hadn't seen her in a while—chatted about recent life; both felt a wave of nostalgia.

Dong Xuan remained the same: stable relationship with Yan Li, stable career.

When she had a drama, she acted; when she didn't, she taught. From 2004 until now, she was about to complete three years at Beijing Film Academy, and her part-time graduate studies were nearly finished.

That meant, after summer vacation, Dong Xuan would officially become a full professor at Beijing Film Academy, not just an assistant, and her academic degree would upgrade from bachelor's to master's.

Yin Xu's situation was more complicated.

How to put it? After graduation, she'd done relatively poorly—she'd appeared in few dramas, though most Beijing Film Academy graduates were the same.

Someone like Dong Xuan, who had played the female lead before graduation and had steadily progressed since, was truly rare.

Though her career stalled, Yin Xu had triumphed in love, drawing intense pursuit from Zhang Zinan, Zhang Ziyi's older brother.

At the time, Zhang Zinan wasn't doing badly—he was his sister's agent; as the hottest reigning diva, Zhang Ziyi earned handsomely, and as her agent and brother, Zhang Zinan's income and resources were substantial.

Unable to resist his pursuit, Yin Xu married Zhang Zinan, who was ten years her senior.

But after marrying into the Zhang family, Yin Xu realized he had been deceived.

Zhang Zinan had no ability and could only rely on his sister for food—this was bad enough, but worse, he loved causing trouble and had brought no small amount of trouble upon Zhang Ziyi before.

So although Zhang Zinan was nominally his sister's agent, many of her business affairs had already been stripped from him and handed over to professional teams.

Put bluntly, Zhang Zinan had nothing but a good reputation—no money, no resources.

Though she was famously Zhang Ziyi's sister-in-law, her entire family depended on Zhang Ziyi for survival, and she could not assert any authority over this little sister-in-law; she even had to watch her words and read her expressions.

Yin Xu's distance from Dong Xuan and Guan Yue stemmed partly from this.

As for Yan Li—top-tier Wang Laowu in the circle—and Tong Dawei, also a promising rising star, she had picked the worst man of all, always feeling she had no standing.

But now that Guan Yue and Tong Dawei had broken up, Yin Xu took the initiative to show concern for his old classmate.

Dong Xuan didn't want to assume the worst, but Yin Xu's behavior was indeed suspicious.

Even Guan Yue sensed this—once Yin Xu left, she spoke gloomily.

"Saying he came specially to visit me? He came specially to laugh at me."

Hate those who have it, laugh at those who don't!

Even if we were close in college, human nature was too complicated to overcome.

Not even Yin Xu—Guan Yue and Dong Xuan's bond was so strong, yet sometimes they still envied and resented each other, too delicate to examine closely.

Dong Xuan said nothing, only silently poured Guan Yue a glass of wine: "Try to let it go."

Guan Yue smiled bitterly—it was impossible to let it go. Years of emotion, all her investment, expectations, and dreams—all turned to smoke. Even now, just drinking in silence, she already counted herself as psychologically strong.

"If I've fallen, you must hold firm."

Guan Yue took a sip of wine and began to advise Dong Xuan in return—only after losing something could you truly appreciate it.

Yan Li is even more sought-after than Tong Dawei, and you've given more than she has—if he ends up with someone else, I'll die with my eyes wide open.

"Enough, don't worry about this."

Dong Xuan pursed her lips, soothed Guan Yue for a while longer, helped her to sleep, then prepared to leave—only to hear a honk as she reached the stairs: Yan Li's car.

Dong Xuan opened the door and got in: "Why are you here?"

"The party ended early, I didn't drink, going home was pointless, so I came by to pick you up. Shh, look over there."

Yan Li gave a brief explanation, then pointed to a shadow in the distant trees.

Dong Xuan stared for a while, couldn't recognize it: "Who is that?"

"It's Dawei."

Dong Xuan stared again, still couldn't recognize him—mainly because of the distance and how fully he was wrapped up; she truly didn't realize it was Tong Dawei.

"It's him—I saw his car outside the compound."

Dong Xuan perked up: "So Tong Dawei doesn't want to break up?"

Yan Li rubbed his chin: "Probably. I've been here over ten minutes—he's been pacing under the building the whole time, but never went up. Probably hesitating or feeling guilty."

Earlier, Guan Yue issued her final ultimatum—he didn't respond, and they broke up.

Now that it's done, he's finally feeling the pain, desperately wanting to reconcile—but for some reason, he hasn't dared to act.

"What should we do?"

Dong Xuan pulled out her phone: "I'll call Guan Yue, tell her to come down."

Yan Li shook his head: "Don't rush. Wait. If he wants to win her back, he'll act. If he's still hesitating, your impatience will scare him off."

"Besides, since Guan Yue broke up with him, the power lies with her. Now's the time to stretch him out, build up the pressure, and crush him completely."

Yan Li spoke with such logic that Dong Xuan was baffled: "Aren't you on his side? Why are you giving Guan Yue advice now?"

"I'm on the side of justice."

Yan Li smirked, then added: "This guy's made you worry nonstop. Giving him a taste of his own medicine is just payback."

Dong Xuan was speechless, but still called Guan Yue to give her a heads-up.

If you want payback, there'll be plenty of time later—right now, since they're showing signs of reconciliation, you must push them together fast, or it'll be too late if they truly split.

When Guan Yue heard Tong Dawei had come, her tone grew excited—clearly, she'd been holding back too.

But she didn't say how she'd act; Dong Xuan wanted to ask, but Yan Li stopped her.

"This is enough. What comes next isn't our place to interfere."

Yan Li muttered this, then drove off. Dong Xuan fidgeted in the car, unable to resist asking.

"If we had a fight, and you were in Tong Dawei's position right now, what would you do?"

"I'd never stand around waiting like an idiot downstairs."

Yan Li first dismissed Tong Dawei's approach, then paused, imagined himself in that role, and finally spoke three words.

"Go upstairs. Open the door. Take off your clothes. Sleep her into submission."

Dong Xuan: "..."

She couldn't help cursing him as a hooligan, but Yan Li remained calm: "Husbands and wives fight in bed and make up in bed."

Tong Dawei simply wasn't tough enough!

He wasn't tough in body, not tough in tactics, not tough in heart—if he'd mastered even two of these, he wouldn't be in this miserable, stuck position.

Right now, with this scene, he should've gritted his teeth and stormed upstairs—even if he couldn't win her back immediately, he could break the ice. Far better than pacing like a caged animal downstairs.

He's already cheated—now's the time to be shameless. Playing the tragic lover card is useless.

"I don't know if I'm lucky or unlucky."

Watching Yan Li's confident expression, Dong Xuan couldn't help murmuring.

Lucky—she didn't have to endure the mutual torment Guan Yue and Tong Dawei went through; she just waited for Yan Li to act.

Unlucky—she'd be trapped under this bastard's control for life, completely at his mercy.

"Then you're definitely lucky."

Yan Li, unabashed, reached out and took Dong Xuan's small hand, gently stroking it. "Got any sunflower seeds at home? Buy some—Guang Yue will probably call you tonight, and we'll have gossip to chew on."

"You're so boring."

Dong Xuan retorted, then added: "We have sunflower seeds, but I want pistachios—and maybe some chips too."

"..."

Yan Li shook his head. "Guang Yue's lucky to have you as a best friend—she's got terrible luck."

Later, Yan Li learned that Tong Dawei had still chickened out that night, wandered around for hours, then left.

Though he never went upstairs, it wasn't useless—he froze for hours, creating a pathetic effect that softened Guang Yue's heart toward him.

Still, Guang Yue refused to reconcile—or rather, she was using the moment to test conditions and probe Tong Dawei.

After being frozen out all night, Tong Dawei finally understood—he began courting Guang Yue, showing up at her school with food and drinks whenever he had time, even letting Dong Xuan tag along for a few breakfasts.

By this point, Yan Li had stopped caring about the details.

Their chances of reconciling were high; what remained was just negotiating terms.

Yan Li guessed Guang Yue might use this chance to marry Tong Dawei and lock things down, to prevent others from taking advantage.

That wasn't necessarily good for Yan Li—Guang Yue, his good friend, getting married might stir something in Dong Xuan.

As previously mentioned, Dong Xuan's career was growing more stable; she was about to become a full-time teacher at Beijing Film Academy, with reduced workload and increased security.

In plain terms, she had more free time to think about Yan Li.

Dong Xuan wasn't young anymore—she was already twenty-seven, one year older than Yan Li, and on the verge of thirty.

Though society now promotes late marriage and late childbearing, and the entertainment industry has grown more open, many people's mindsets haven't changed.

A popular term these days is "leftover men and women," generally referring to unmarried adults; "advanced age" usually means over thirty, though some include those aged twenty-five to thirty.

Yan Li usually avoided this topic altogether, dodging and deflecting—but even his best efforts couldn't shield him from the shock of Guang Yue, his good friend, getting married.

"What a mess."

If it weren't so immoral, Yan Li would've interfered and ruined Tong and Guang Yue's reconciliation—this was just adding to his troubles.

In contrast, the Teddy Sisters were more helpful—hearing that Li Xiaolu and Li Chen were in a fierce fight, Qin Lan had finally seen the true face of a "good-natured man," boosting Yan Li's standing considerably.

Now that's more like it!

Yan Li hoped Li Chen would hold out longer—ideally, give Li Xiaolu a taste of her own medicine, and not turn out as weak as Tong Dawei.

————

In late February, Yan Li took time to visit the soon-to-open Phoenix Dance Studio.

After all, it was Wang Ou, Wu Jiani, and Yang Rong's venture—especially Wu Jiani, who had worked tirelessly inside and out, pouring in immense effort; Yan Li had to come see it for himself.

Phoenix Dance Studio wasn't large, but every detail of its interior was refined and luxurious, fitting its mid-to-high-end positioning—quality over quantity.

Yan Li checked the dance instructors—all graduates of Beijing Dance Academy, two of whom were part-time members of national dance troupes; the lineup was impressive.

But the best asset was the three boss-ladies: Wang, Wu, and Yang, as executives and honorary instructors, would be Phoenix's biggest draw.

"How's enrollment going?"

Yan Li sat on the sofa in Wu Jiani's office, curious. She closed the door, pulled the curtains, and sat beside him.

"We started recruiting during winter break—about twenty students so far, mostly short-term trial enrollments."

It was a new studio with high fees; despite the celebrity appeal, parents still preferred to wait and watch.

Yan Li pondered: "I think you should broaden your thinking—not just rely on celebrity status for recruitment, but expand further."

"Expand what?"

Wu Jiani didn't quite follow. Yan Li looked at her. "Of course, expand your resources."

"I don't understand dance, and you know the ins and outs of competitions and such—but beyond dance, you have film and television resources."

"Students who come here to learn dance could, if the opportunity arises, be recommended by you to appear in Yi'an's dramas and films."

"Big roles are hard to promise, but child roles or dance-related supporting parts—I'll make a call. Who you use is who you use—why not use your own people?"

"Learning dance, plus a chance to act—doesn't that become your studio's advantage?"

"..."

This tactic wasn't unique to Yan Li—many children's arts training institutions operated similarly.

The most famous example was Shichahai Martial Arts School, which had become a cradle for kung fu superstars.

Many parents sent their children there hoping they'd become the next Jet Li.

Many child actors landing TV roles early in life owed it partly to luck or family connections, but many also rose through such institutions.

Many dancers who study dance want to pursue an artistic path; even more want fame and entry into the industry.

With this shortcut, Phoenix Dance Studio could attract many students.

In the future, if it grew larger, it could expand beyond dance—adding acting, modeling, vocal training—even venturing into child star management.

"This..."

Wu Jiani hesitated. She just wanted to run a dance studio, teach dance, make some money—she had no grand ambitions. Yan Li's idea caught her off guard.

"I'm just throwing it out there—use it as a gimmick to make recruitment easier. You don't have to go all-in."

Seeing her unease, Yan Li reassured her. He had a professional habit—whenever he saw a business, he immediately thought how to scale it up.

In truth, if Wu Jiani had the ability and guts for this, she wouldn't need side jobs—she could climb straight up in the entertainment industry.

"Don't stress too much. Follow your own pace. If you lose money, lose money."

Yan Li smoothed Wu Jiani's slightly furrowed brow. She was the studio's lead—she carried pressure.

"Mm-hmm."

Feeling the warmth of Yan Li's fingers, Wu Jiani luxuriated in the intimacy, pressing her forehead against his palm.

Yan Li froze slightly, then pulled her close; she leaned in and kissed him passionately.

Wu Jiani had low presence among Yan Li's women and wasn't particularly favored; Yan Li's concern for her was average.

But she was quite content herself, especially after Yan Li fulfilled her wish by investing in a dance studio—she became exceptionally obedient to him, and even when Yan Li paired her with Wang Ou multiple times, she cooperated fully.

This time, coinciding with the grand opening of the dance studio and hearing Yan Li thoughtfully advise her and reassure her not to worry about business, Wu Jiani couldn't help but be emotionally stirred.

"Come with me tonight."

"Okay."

Even when busy, Yan Li would never easily dampen her mood, but that didn't stop him from securing his own benefits.

As the behind-the-scenes owner, he needed to inspect the quality of the dance studio's costumes…

…

Apartment, bedroom

Wu Jiani's new residence was just one building away from Wang Ou's, greatly convenient for O-ni-jie.

Unfortunately, Wang Ou was no longer in Jingcheng, leaving Wu Jiani to face the storm alone.

Still, Wu Jiani didn't forget her O-jie; during this time, she called Wang Ou.

Yan Li: "…"

Others might be debatable, but this little girl was definitely corrupted by Wang Ou.

On the other end of the line, Wang Ou flew into a rage, vowing to punish Wu Jiani thoroughly when she returned.

Yan Li would soon head to Hengdian to film "The Investiture of the Gods 2"; after finishing "The Great Qing Imperial Harem," Wang Ou would also join her new set, then it would be Wu Jiani's turn.

The two of them were the Twin Demons of Xuan Yuan—"The Investiture of the Gods 2" couldn't do without their roles.

Due to script revisions, their scenes with Yan Li and Fan Xiaopang were reduced, but there were still some, so they'd inevitably cross paths soon.

Facing Wang Ou's threats, Wu Jiani whimpered and clung to Yan Li for comfort.

It was clear she was in good spirits and mood today; normally, Wang Ou bullied her, and she rarely provoked Wang Ou herself.

Letting them bicker, Yan Li continued with his own work; only after Wu Jiani's voice went hoarse did he ask about the promotion of "The Great Qing Imperial Harem."

This drama was scheduled to follow "The Legend of Xue Rengui," with no more than a week between them.

Although its selling price was lower than the former, its broadcast across four satellite channels gave it considerable momentum.

Because of Wang Ou, the company's second sister, and actors like Qiao Zhenyu and Zhang Zhilin, Yan Li took this drama seriously.

If "The Great Qing Imperial Harem" succeeded, it could add several more money trees to the company.

Wang Ou's voice sounded slightly resentful, but she still honestly reported the promotion progress and complained about Qin Lan and Huo Siyan.

Qin Lan—she didn't dare complain much, stopping just short of pressing the issue.

Huo Siyan, however, didn't let anything go, nagging endlessly, as if even Huo Siyan eating one extra tea-egg for breakfast counted as wasteful spending.

Yan Li didn't need to ask—he knew this woman had likely been taken advantage of by Huo Siyan and Qin Lan, especially Huo Siyan; otherwise, her resentment wouldn't be so intense.

"Alright, I'll get you back later."

Yan Li cut off Wang Ou's babbling, but Wang Ou was quick: "How exactly are you going to get me back?"

"Didn't I say? Later."

Wang Ou: "…"

Forget it, just take it out on me instead—don't let that little dwarf off the hook…

…

In early March, the plot of "The Legend of Xue Rengui" had aired halfway; after the setup arcs passed, it finally reached its climax.

Especially the series of scenes after Ying Mengxianchen assumed office—purely exhilarating—and drove the drama's viewership steadily upward; though it didn't break 4%, it was close.

Even more pleasantly surprising was its strong rerun performance.

On local channels and county-level stations outside the original satellite broadcaster, rerun ratings were solid; one local channel in Jiangxi Province even surpassed other prime-time dramas in rerun viewership, ranking number one in its time slot.

This indicated "The Legend of Xue Rengui" wasn't a fleeting hit—it had significant long-tail effects.

As everyone knew, dramas with high long-tail effects were best at boosting actors' popularity and earned profits over longer periods.

This attracted many satellite channels to bid for second- and third-round broadcast rights, at substantial prices.

Roughly estimated, if everything proceeded smoothly, "The Legend of Xue Rengui" could bring Yi'an roughly 20 million in profit.

Another noteworthy point: Yan Li's fee had risen significantly.

Previously, Yan Li's fee was inflated by external factors, higher than average actors', but since his roles had limited screen time and were self-led projects, he often accepted only a friend's rate.

But after "The Legend of Xue Rengui," Yan Li now had an actual hit as a male lead, and his fee aligned with market standards.

TV drama: 50,000 to 80,000 per episode; film: 800,000 to 1,200,000.

This wasn't Yan Li's guesswork—it was calculated based on market evaluations and the offers he'd received from production teams.

Of course, this referred to normal offers; there were also numerous chaotic teams offering over 100,000 per episode or multi-million lump sums.

Yan Li had even received a ten-million offer.

Sounds great, but that production team actually planned to use Yan Li's name to raise funds, turn the project into Yan Li's own, then give him 10 million.

In plain terms, they were freeloading on Yan Li—once the money was split, they'd leave him with the mess.

Worse still, some even tried dragging Yan Li into money-laundering schemes; all these tricks opened his eyes to the underworld, thanks to the system's inside view.

He'd never planned to join other projects anyway; now he was even more cautious.

Not even starring roles—he refused even Fan Xiaopang and Huayi's requests to appear in their dramas, choosing instead to focus on self-cultivation.

————

ps: (0/41000)

(End of Chapter)