Chapter 264: Hong Kong Film Circle Takes Notice: The Stunning and Fierce Yu Sheng

In mid-March, Yu Yanli left Hengdian for one day to attend the premiere of *The Disciples*.

The film was originally scheduled for release after the Spring Festival, but was delayed due to review issues.

To put it bluntly, the film's content was quite bold—it unfolded from a undercover + crime perspective and involved mainland China's most sensitive topic: drugs—so the relevant authorities were extremely cautious.

During this time, Yu Yanli intervened to mediate and advised the crew not to wait any longer, urging them to release it quickly to avoid further complications.

Thus, even though March was an awkward slot, *The Disciples* dared not delay further after passing review.

The premiere featured a strong lineup; director Er Dongsheng was well-connected in Hong Kong's film industry, and even Jackie Chan came specifically to show support.

Yu Yanli learned from Jackie Chan that he and Er Dongsheng were preparing to make a film about Japanese overseas Chinese triads.

Hearing it was Cheng Long's new movie, Yu Yanli had initially been quite interested.

These days, there are only a handful of actors with guaranteed box office appeal, and Cheng Long is unquestionably among the top.

But when he heard Cheng Long wasn't planning to focus on action this time, and was leaning toward artistic themes, Yu Yanli's smile grew faint.

From an actor's perspective, he understood Cheng Long.

After decades of filmmaking, his box office was undeniable, his awards impressive, but the public still saw him as a fighter, not an actor.

At Jackie Chan's age, one must consider a career transition, and since fame and fortune have largely peaked, he naturally seeks new pursuits.

But pursuit doesn't guarantee success!

Cheng Long's biggest selling point is kung fu comedy—would audiences accept him in an art film?

Yu Yanli remained cautious about Cheng Long's film, but Bo Na's Yu Pangzi didn't care—he chatted enthusiastically with Cheng Long.

As always, Bo Na's strategy is to cast a wide net: bold in bets, willing to gamble, using this to secure numerous film distribution rights, enhance industry clout, and pursue listing.

Thus, Yu Pangzi and Yu Yanli held different attitudes toward film investment.

The latter assessed risk and prioritized profitability; the former cared more about market share and corporate influence—profit mattered, but not first.

Neither was right or wrong; they simply followed different development paths and styles.

Yu Pangzi chatted cheerfully with Jackie Chan, but Yu Yanli wasn't without company either—Director Mai Zihui of *Infernal Affairs* was also present.

Yu Yanli had never met this director before; he was a typical Hong Kong filmmaker, whose works focused on local themes, rarely venturing beyond Hong Kong's circle.

Mai had previously collaborated with Lau Wai-keung, with financial backing from Media Asia.

But judging by today's atmosphere, Mai seemed to be growing closer to Er Dongsheng, even showing signs of reaching out to Bo Na and other mainland studio executives.

Had there been a falling-out?

Or were Media Asia's resources drying up?

Or had he simply endured Hong Kong's market too long and planned to move north, seeking a mainland patron and backer?!

This was nearly a trend among Hong Kong directors.

Hong Kong's market was dead—or at least seen as having no future—this was consensus; Taiwan, Japan, Korea, and Southeast Asia were also declining, and more Hong Kong film professionals were heading north to make a living.

But the mainland market wasn't easy to crack, especially in film—no one could simply grab a share.

Aside from the major players and related film capital, independent filmmakers mostly followed three paths.

One: remain independent, collaborate with mid- and small-sized companies, raise funding themselves, or join certain projects, etc.

This group was the largest—some thrived, some struggled, depending on personal ability and luck.

Two: partner with giants like Phoenix, Media Asia, or An Le.

These were the core figures of Hong Kong's northward migration; even other paths inevitably involved collaboration with these Hong Kong powerhouses—Hong Kong's solidarity wasn't just empty talk.

Three: align with mainland heavyweights—Bo Na, Huayi, Starlight, even Yu Yanli's Yi'an—all had Hong Kong film figures among them.

Today's *The Disciples* lead, Zhang Zhilin; Ju Jueliang, who directed multiple Yi'an Gu Long dramas; and Chen Jiashang, rumored to direct *Painted Skin*—to outsiders, all were Hong Kong talents aligned with Boss Yu.

Mainland heavyweights had money, resources, and channels, and treated Hong Kong talents with respect—but whether one could get close enough to strike a deal depended entirely on opportunity and ability.

Bo Na's Yu Pangzi was the easiest mainland boss to approach, yet he preferred working with Hong Kong's major studios.

Huayi neither rejected nor embraced them, and its internal factions were too numerous, too chaotic, too fiercely competitive.

Yu Yanli was a newly risen mainland heavyweight—his rise was recent, he did recruit talent, but his threshold was high; ordinary people didn't even catch his eye.

Mai Zihui, as the core creator of the *Infernal Affairs* series, definitely met Yu Yanli's threshold—whether to bring him on was another matter, but if the right opportunity arose, a conversation would be worthwhile.

…

"Boss Yu…"

During the premiere's networking, Yu Yanli's company artist Zhang Zhilin came over with his wife, Yuan Zhiyi, to greet him.

For reasons unknown, perhaps due to Er Dongsheng's dark humor, after casting Zhang Zhilin, he had his wife play Zhang's "big sister" in the film.

Notably, *The Disciples* included Zhang Zhilin's passionate scenes—no one knew if Yuan Zhiyi had been watching during filming.

"Thank you, Boss Yu, for looking after my Zhilin."

Yuan Zhiyi was blunt, unreserved, and once rumored to be one of Hong Kong's "Four Evil Women" alongside Wu Junru.

In plain terms, she had a fierce temper and wasn't easy to provoke.

But even the fiercest temper had to adapt to the audience—facing Yu Yanli, a mainland entertainment tycoon who held her husband's future in his hands—Yuan Zhiyi's demeanor turned warm and gentle.

Yu Yanli had met Yuan before, but wasn't close to her.

Now she was an employee's spouse, so Yu Yanli naturally treated her well, even affectionately called her "Liangliang Jie," and within moments turned her nervousness into laughter.

"My husband's right—Boss Yu is not only handsome and capable, but also knows how to speak. If you'd been born a few years earlier, Hong Kong wouldn't have had the Four Heavenly Kings."

"You can't say that today—Hua Ge is over there; he'd be furious if he heard."

Yu Yanli smiled, but Yuan Zhiyi didn't care: "Even if he hears, I'll say it—Boss Yu is handsomer than the Four Heavenly Kings. Isn't that right, honey?"

Zhang Zhilin slightly rubbed his forehead—his wife was famously clueless about social cues and couldn't hold her tongue, having offended countless people.

Yu Yanli didn't mind at all; when remarks were harmless and came from insiders, his tolerance was high—it was just a joke.

After chatting a while, Yuan Zhiyi went off to catch up with another old friend; Zhang Zhilin was kept behind by Yu Yanli, who led him to a secluded spot.

"You and your wife need to be careful—I've heard rumors someone's targeting you."

This year, Zhang Zhilin's career had gone well; starring in *The Disciples*, he'd become one of Hong Kong's leading figures heading north.

Invisibly, he'd drawn envy and blocked others' paths!

Zhang Zhilin looked confused, then tense: "Boss, what kind of move are we talking about?"

"Hard to say."

Yu Yanli shook his head but offered a guess: "Most likely, they'll go after your wife."

Zhang Zhilin wasn't a saint—he had some dirt and gossip, but the evidence was weak, insufficient to cause major damage; his wife Yuan Zhiyi was the real knife.

This woman's scandalous history was far more colorful than her husband's.

Husband and wife shared fortune and ruin—dragging Yuan Zhiyi into scandal would severely impact Zhang Zhilin.

"Don't worry—the company stands with you."

Yu Yanli patted Zhang Zhilin's shoulder—he was Yi'an's man; targeting him meant targeting Yi'an, and Yu Yanli wouldn't stand idle.

"Thank you, Boss."

Zhang Zhilin left, grateful yet uneasy. Yu Yanli himself remained calm—this little storm was nothing compared to the earlier sabotage against Fan Xiaopang.

The entertainment industry was a battlefield of fame and fortune—climbing up wasn't easy.

Yu Yanli didn't even bother investigating who was behind it—technically, every rival Hong Kong-Taiwan or mainland junior actor team or company could be a suspect.

If it were him, and another mainland or Hong Kong junior star ran into trouble, Yi'an would gladly fan the flames and kick them while down.

You can't survive in entertainment if you're a good person, and you can't run a business that way.

With an intelligence system at his disposal yet refusing to initiate attacks or schemes, Yu Yanli sometimes thought himself too pure.

Speaking of which, Yu Yanli glanced at Zhang Jingchu, who was talking with Er Dongsheng nearby.

From what he knew, Zhang Zhilin wasn't the only one being watched.

She appeared in Er Dongsheng's *The Disciples*, Gu Changwei's *Lichun*, and even starred in Jackie Chan's *Rush Hour 3*.

Dominating mainland, Hong Kong, and Hollywood—more powerful than the Four Dan and Two Bing—no one would fail to covet her.

But that had nothing to do with Yu Yanli; in fact, if Zhang Zhilin's situation worsened, he might even consider using Zhang Jingchu as a decoy.

…

Yu Yanli watched *The Disciples* again—it wasn't his first time; he'd seen it before, and it contained details absent from the theatrical cut.

Personally, he felt the film's quality was solid.

Especially the female lead's role design—it was a stroke of genius, an excellent anti-drug warning film.

The standout performers were Liu Tianwang and Zhang Jingchu; Zhang Zhilin, due to his character, delivered a competent but unremarkable performance.

Leaving other factors aside, Yu Yanli genuinely recognized Zhang Jingchu's acting talent—no wonder directors kept seeking her out.

Too bad—if she had a reliable company, she might have been groomed for a Golden Horse or Golden Bauhinia Best Actress award.

Yu Yanli shook his head, skipped the banquet, merely gave instructions on *The Disciples*' distribution, then returned to Hengdian.

*The Disciples* was high-quality, led by Liu Tianwang, distributed by Bo Na and Yi'an—despite its poor slot, it delivered an impressive result.

Mainland opening day box office: 7. million RMB!

Hong Kong box office exceeded 3 million RMB.

These figures were unmatched in this year's mainland market, second only to the Hollywood blockbuster *Casino Royale*, released in January.

The stellar box office drew attention from the crew and distributors, prompting increased promotional investment.

Yu Yanli personally directed the dismantling of two piracy dens.

The creative team became more cooperative—Liu Tianwang reserved more time, Zhang Zhilin and Zhang Jingchu fully participated, and even non-lead actor Gu Tianle took leave from the set to join roadshows.

Through collective effort, *The Disciples*' box office kept rising.

15 million!

30 million!

50 million!

…!

The mainland box office is expected to reach 80 million, and Hong Kong's box office is projected to hit around 30 million Hong Kong dollars.

Don't think that's low—last year's Hong Kong box office champion, "Huo Yuanjia," barely hit 30 million Hong Kong dollars, and only one other film, "Baby Plan," surpassed 20 million.

In other words, "Men Tu" has the potential to compete for this year's Hong Kong box office championship.

The roaring success in both the mainland and Hong Kong markets boosted the film's copyright sales.

Film companies from Taiwan, Japan, Korea, and Southeast Asia are all negotiating deals, with prices varying widely.

Yan Li ran the numbers: Yi'an invested 8 million, holding a 20% share. Based on current projected returns, they'd definitely make a profit—but not much, at most a few million.

But as previously mentioned, Yan Li didn't invest in this film just to make money.

Testing the waters, paving the way, building connections, enhancing influence, promoting talent—these other reasons mattered more. Now, with a small profit on top, Yan Li was very satisfied.

As "Men Tu" surged in popularity, the anticipated and feared event occurred.

Zhang Jingchu reused her old tactic—rehashing the "director's harvesting machine" scandal—but this time with greater momentum, dragging in her longtime rival Jiang Wenli.

This woman is no ordinary figure!

Among the remaining veteran Qingyi and Huadan actresses on the mainland, she's now the most successful, with explosive momentum, unmatched popularity, status, seniority, and connections—she's quietly replaced Liu Xiaoqing as the representative of the mid-generation female actors.

With her influence, she might not be able to topple the "Four Dan and Two Bing," but crushing Zhang Jingchu would be easy.

More notably, in past cases like this, the veteran generation usually stayed aloof, maintaining decorum and discretion.

No one knows whether Jiang was provoked or whether Zhang Jingchu was too ruthless—but Jiang Wenli left no room for face, launching an open, direct attack.

Rumors spread that Gu Changwei's new film "Li Chun" originally had substantial scenes featuring Zhang Jingchu, but they were nearly entirely cut—behind it all was Jiang Wenli's pressure.

Zhang Jingchu was mired in scandal, and Zhang Zhilin suffered too.

As Yan Li suspected, Zhang's own scandals weren't fatal, so they targeted his wife, exposing her past as a mistress to a wealthy businessman.

This wasn't a secret—it had surfaced back in 2001—but this time, because Zhang Zhilin was at his peak, the impact was far greater, and the rumors swirled around him.

Yi'an's artist management department moved swiftly, deploying targeted guidance and counterattacks.

The same event, analyzed and explained from different angles, yields different interpretations.

Entertainment PR, to some extent, is about turning black into white.

For an open secret, denial is meaningless. Better to admit it—play the victim, claim youthful ignorance, soften the backlash, and prevent image collapse.

This strategy targeted Yuan Yongyi; for Zhang Zhilin, it became a story of loving and protecting his wife, standing firmly by her side.

A husband and wife are birds of the same forest—the greater the hardship, the truer the love. Holding firm for Yuan Yongyi now actually strengthened Zhang Zhilin's image.

As long as he endured some mockery, he'd win massive goodwill from the public and women.

Crisis can be opportunity—some scandals can become stepping stones to success.

Of course, that alone would be too simple. The real problem was the wealthy businessman who once sponsored her coming forward to blab.

He was once a major figure, having bankrolled many female stars, but later went bankrupt and became a notorious scoundrel, surviving by leaking stories about the actresses he'd been involved with.

Zhang and Yuan had already been harassed by him once before, and back then, they had no recourse—so they just shrugged it off, endured the ridicule, and managed to get rid of him.

Now, with Zhang Zhilin's career soaring, he couldn't afford to play the tough guy anymore—but fortunately, he had powerful backing.

This businessman still had many friends in the Hong Kong circle. Though fallen, he retained some lingering connections; even if he offended people, others would intervene, preventing them from destroying him completely—that's why Zhang and Yuan had never been able to handle him.

But Yan Li was different—he had shallow ties to the Hong Kong circle, few entanglements, and owed no one any favors.

Whoever blocked his path, he'd crush them!

Other mainland tycoons might not have reach that far—perhaps just issuing a warning—but Yan Li had an intelligence network, giving him far more options.

So, one of the businessman's account holders suddenly began demanding repayment, beat him up, then dug up a decades-old illegal act from the 1990s—he was arrested immediately, unable to even afford bail.

In less than three days, Yan Li received a call from the famous Da Liu, who had some personal connection with the businessman and came to mediate.

Yan Li showed respect: he apologized and shut up. That was it.

That same night, the businessman, freshly released on bail, publicly apologized to the media, claiming he had deliberately sought attention for profit, harmed Zhang and Yuan's marital feelings, promised to learn from his mistake, and wished them a lifetime of happiness together.

To the general public, it was just another trivial gossip.

But within the industry, especially in Hong Kong, many were stunned by Yan Li's power—the name "Yi'an Master Yan" grew louder and louder in the Hong Kong circle…

(End of Chapter)