Chapter 269: The New Four Great Classical Novels TV Series and the Advancing

After finishing the filming of "The Investiture of the Gods 2," Yan Li's work became scattered.

Meetings, assignments, social engagements, event appearances, site visits, interviews—miscellaneous tasks left Yan Li sometimes unsure of what he was even busy with.

But that's how work is: you can't socialize forever, can't always stay at the company, and can't never go on business trips.

Fortunately, the number of events he could attend and the drama sets he could visit were limited; after filtering interviews, what remained wasn't much. Specific work and social obligations were unavoidable, but after a flurry of activity, things gradually stabilized.

In early April, Yan Li went on a business trip to participate in one episode of the program "The Person in Dream of the Red Chamber."

"The Person in Dream of the Red Chamber" was a casting variety show for "The New Dream of the Red Chamber," organized by Beijing TV and the company behind "The New Dream of the Red Chamber."

One of the program's directors was Hu Mei, the director of "The New Dream of the Red Chamber."

Yan Li came this time partly out of respect for Hu Mei—she had been something of a mentor to him, casting him in "Emperor Wu of Han."

Though by then Yan Li was already on the rise, making Hu Mei's role as mentor somewhat less significant, there was still a lingering bond, and Yan Li always showed Director Hu respect.

When Director Hu asked him to show up and lend support, and since he had free time, Yan Li made a brief appearance.

But once he arrived, he realized Hu Mei hadn't just invited him to be a token guest on the variety show.

Yan Li had heard of the "The New Dream of the Red Chamber" project.

It was similar to the earlier "Red Cliff"—large investment, wide scope, complex internal and behind-the-scenes structures.

It was said that as early as 2001, someone had wanted to launch the project; it wasn't until 2003 that official authorization was obtained from relevant authorities, followed by years of preparation and bickering, and it wasn't until 2005 that it finally got underway.

In early 2006, amid the nationwide craze for talent shows, the "The New Dream of the Red Chamber" crew wanted to ride the wave and launch a talent-search-style casting process.

The plan was actually decent—after all, the 1987 version of "Dream of the Red Chamber" had also carried a hint of talent-show flavor.

Nationwide auditions were held, multiple rounds of screening were conducted, candidates were gathered for intensive training, and ultimately, the most classic version of "Dream of the Red Chamber" was produced.

Now, times were different: the foundational conditions were better, and the project could generate profits while building hype for the drama.

But one precondition was essential: the casting had to be genuine, and the selected actors had to be genuinely used.

More crucially, that precondition didn't exist.

Perhaps it had existed at first, but as the show gained traction and influence, it inevitably became influenced by various parties, and the entire program lost its original character.

According to Yan Li's understanding, Hu Mei, as chief director, had clashed repeatedly with the production company and Beijing TV over casting, creating a certain rift.

The production company and Beijing TV had considered replacing her; Director Hu had even declared she would start fresh, filming "The New New Dream of the Red Chamber" with her preferred actors.

Yan Li's invitation wasn't because Hu Mei wanted him to bring investment, but rather, she hoped to use his influence as a warning to the production company.

After all, Yi'an had people, money, and channels; Hu Mei's team and actors were already assembled; if the two sides cooperated and smoothed out a few connections, they might actually seize control of the project.

But they overestimated things—Yan Li had no real interest in "The New Dream of the Red Chamber."

First, it was too complicated, involving too many parties, and had been running for years.

If Yan Li wanted to take it over, not to mention his reputation, the cost and the number of people he'd alienate would be excessive—completely uneconomical, with abysmal ROI.

Second, he himself wasn't particularly drawn to the "Dream of the Red Chamber" subject matter.

This could be seen from Yan Li's personality and background: he'd read all four great classics, but "Dream of the Red Chamber" was the only one he hadn't finished reading—and of course, the original text itself was never truly "completed."

This project required massive investment and wide involvement; Yan Li couldn't possibly be a passive investor.

But if he himself wasn't passionate about the subject, how could he possibly make the project successful?

Third, given his reputation, if he got involved in a project steeped in classical literature and filled with female actors, who knew what rumors might surface?

The project could easily become "Yan's Dream of the Red Chamber," and the Twelve Beauties of Jinling might turn into the Twelve Beauties of Rouge.

Yan Li never doubted the online crowd of gossip-seekers and haters' ability to fabricate stories on this front.

So overall, "The New Dream of the Red Chamber" was a thankless, exhausting endeavor for Yan Li—he wouldn't, and couldn't, get involved.

If he truly coveted the influence of the four great classics, he wasn't limited to just "Dream of the Red Chamber."

In fact, Yan Li had already considered a four-classics project last year.

Even Yongle had raised the idea earlier than him—after the success of "The Investiture of the Gods," Cheng Lidong had his eyes on "Journey to the West."

Yan Li didn't compete with him; he thought "Journey to the West" was hard to film, difficult to launch new stars, and prone to being compared unfavorably with the 1986 version.

He might consider participating in a minor way, placing a few actors, but taking full control wasn't necessary—and Yi'an was already stretched too thin.

So Yan Li turned his attention to "Romance of the Three Kingdoms" and "Water Margin."

The star-making potential was certainly better than "Journey to the West," but whether the launched stars would have commercial value was debatable.

But Yan Li was certain: with sufficient investment, such influential works, once produced, would be fiercely contested by TV networks, and could even become a drama king that broke market ceilings.

Moreover, such large-scale productions brought many benefits to the company itself.

Including production experience, talent pools, the company's influence both inside and outside the industry—in plain terms, making such dramas could generate several stellar financial reports for an IPO.

But even just two series were more than Yi'an could handle alone.

Not because it couldn't handle them, but because it was neither necessary nor wise to shoulder all the funding and risk alone—bringing in partners was essential.

In Yan Li's mind, if they truly wanted to make these two series, and if the scale was decent, 100 million was the bare minimum.

For "The New Romance of the Three Kingdoms," with its massive battle scenes, 100 million might not even be enough.

In today's TV market, where 50 million was considered a big-budget production, a project of this scale couldn't be decided on a whim.

Yan Li only had plans and thoughts—he needed time to deliberate and discuss whether to proceed and how to proceed.

Just look at the current mess of "The New Dream of the Red Chamber"—it was likely the cheapest of the four classics, yet it had turned into a disaster.

The other three classics involved even broader scope and greater influence; their complexities were even more daunting.

…

Though Yan Li knew full well the hidden intrigues of "The New Dream of the Red Chamber," he refused to get involved, so he resorted to playing dumb.

He claimed to know nothing, understand nothing—he'd simply come at Hu Mei's invitation to lend support.

If rumors surfaced, he'd clarify or explain as needed.

After this, his old connection with Director Hu was essentially spent—at least, if she came asking for help again, Yan Li wouldn't be so quick to agree.

Honestly, Yan Li's current status and fame had been leveraged and exploited countless times—he'd grown used to it.

But he remembered their old friendship; he'd come willingly to help, so at least give him a heads-up.

He didn't know what others thought, but he himself felt uneasy.

After recording the show, Hu Mei invited Yan Li to dinner; he politely declined with an excuse.

But before his car had driven far, another call came in. After a moment's hesitation, Yan Li told his driver to change course.

A restaurant

Yan Li shook hands with a short, middle-aged man: "Director Sun, which celestial being sent you here as a go-between?"

"An acquaintance, just an acquaintance."

Director Sun led Yan Li into a private room; Yan Li smiled when he saw the two men seated inside.

"I thought who it could be—getting Director Sun to come? Director Wang, we've known each other for ages. Why go through all this trouble?"

Director Wang of Beijing TV, primarily responsible for film and television investment and production, was an old colleague of Director Sun's—Sun had once worked at Beijing TV before moving to the propaganda department.

Yan Li had dealt with Director Sun many times; he knew Director Wang too. Normally, if there was business, they'd just schedule a meeting directly—no need for a middleman.

Seeing the other man, Yan Li understood what was going on—he recognized him as a senior executive from Hualu Bainai.

Hualu Bainai had little public fame but immense actual strength, backed by a central state-owned enterprise—wealthy and powerful—and it was also the primary producer of "The New Dream of the Red Chamber."

Yan Li himself was slightly surprised by his own influence—just after recording the show, they'd come knocking.

But Yan Li didn't mind—he had no guilty conscience, so he wasn't afraid of ghosts knocking at his door. He'd answer honestly, unafraid of probing or scheming.

In fact, Yan Li was already thinking about Hualu Bainai's executives.

If they had the money to invest in "The New Dream of the Red Chamber," were they interested in "The New Three Kingdoms" or "The New Water Margin"?

Yi'an's production team and resource networks were far stronger than Hu Mei's.

Yan Li was naturally sharp, and years of experience had honed him—this kind of situation was nothing.

In a few sentences, he distanced himself completely, making it clear he had no intention of getting involved, yet left no opening for accusation—how they interpreted it was their business; he'd said nothing.

Once the misunderstanding was cleared up, the atmosphere grew livelier; after dinner, they went to a second venue.

Besides the original group, the director of "The Person in Dream of the Red Chamber" and several ambitious contestants joined.

Yan Li was impressed—he'd heard many talent shows were messy behind the scenes, but he hadn't expected "The Person in Dream of the Red Chamber" to be the same. How could such contestants possibly portray Lin Daiyu and Xue Baochai?

The contestants hadn't expected Yan Li to be there; their ambition surged even higher.

As for big names, no one in the room could match Yan Li!

Even if the "Person in Dream of the Red Chamber" casting failed, just being associated with him offered plenty of opportunities for fame.

Only a few contestants showed up, yet three girls crowded around Yan Li—and one guy too.

Two stood out in Yan Li's memory: one was Lan Yan, a graduate of Shanghai Theatre Academy, like Bai Bing, also under Yinghuang.

Yinghuang must have some connection to this drama, otherwise they wouldn't have bundled so many newcomers into the casting.

The other was Yao Di; Yan Li remembered her for two reasons.

First, during his own recording, he'd heard of her—she was a top contender, performing exceptionally well.

Second, Yao Di had approached him calling him "senior"—only after her reminder did Yan Li recall seeing her on campus; he asked and learned she was a 2001 vocational class student at Beijing Film Academy.

Yan Li had only attended Beijing Film Academy for two years, so the only cohort of junior students he'd seen were the 2001 class.

But back then, his attention was mostly on Dong Xuan, partly on Huang Shengyi—he'd paid little attention to this junior.

Regardless of other things, as one of the rare acting-focused talent shows, the contestants of "The Person in Dream of the Red Chamber" were genuinely high-caliber.

Graduates from Beijing Film Academy, Central Academy of Drama, and Shanghai Theatre Academy were everywhere; performers from the PLA Arts Academy, Communication University of China, and other arts schools were also numerous; some had trained since childhood in dance, opera, guzheng, and other instruments.

Many contestants had already acted in dramas and had performance experience—just hadn't become famous yet.

All of them were waiting to use this nationally watched major production to soar to fame in one leap.

Yan Li once again felt grateful for his system's advantage—otherwise, he might have been one of them.

He might even have been eliminated earlier—after all, his appearance and physique were unsuitable for playing Jia Baoyu.

Perhaps moved by the scene and stirred in heart, or perhaps because Yao Di, Lan Yan, and the others simply weren't his type, Yan Li paid no heed to their advances, chatted idly for a while, then found an opportunity to leave. Yao Di and Lan Yan were deeply discouraged—the greatest opportunity slipped through their fingers, and they didn't even get his contact information.

Isn't this guy supposed to be a womanizer?

Back home, Lan Yan even called her agent Lina to complain bitterly. Before, Yao Di had at least shown some reserve and embarrassment, but she had been extremely enthusiastic.

She had even physically pressed herself against him, yet Yan Li remained unresponsive—he spoke to her even less than he had to Yao Di.

Could it be that she was too forward? Did Yan Li prefer passive types?

But even when Yao Di was passive, he didn't do anything beyond a few extra words.

Lina, however, was used to it. No matter how much of a womanizer Yan Li was, he was still an entertainment magnate, a young billionaire who had seen and experienced everything.

Though they were decent-looking, they were all newcomers who hadn't yet secured their footing in the circle, each dressed in outdated, plain styles, barely distinguishable from ordinary people—hardly likely to catch Yan Li's eye.

"If you really want to get close to him, go through Bai Bing."

Lina, Lan Yan's agent, was also Bai Bing's agent; both were newcomers at Yinghuang and had both participated in "Dream of the Red Chamber: The Search," so they shared the same team.

Previously, Lina had learned from Bai Bing that she knew Yan Li, and had urged her to be bold and take action.

But whether Bai Bing was unwilling or Yan Li simply had no interest in her, Lina had heard nothing at all.

If that's the case, why not let Lan Yan try? At least she's willing to go all out, and with today's groundwork, reaching out wouldn't seem abrupt.

The resources and influence in Yan Li's hands are too tempting to pass up.

Upon hearing this, Lan Yan immediately went to find Bai Bing. They were from the same company and both filming shows in Beijing, so they stayed at the same hotel.

Bai Bing had already gone to sleep, but Lan Yan woke her up. When she heard Lan Yan wanted Yan Li's phone number, Bai Bing frowned slightly.

"How do you know I have Yan Zong's contact?"

"Who else? Of course it was Sister Lina."

Both were newcomers, and Lan Yan was slightly less famous and lower in status than Bai Bing. She knew that asking outright wouldn't guarantee compliance, so she brought up her agent.

True enough, once Lan Yan mentioned Lina, Bai Bing hesitated—but still refused under the excuse that she couldn't casually give out phone numbers to strangers.

"I'm not a stranger—I just drank with Yan Zong tonight. I just happened to be a step too late and didn't get his number. Don't worry, I won't betray you."

Yan Li's phone number isn't a major secret.

If Lan Yan truly wanted Yan Li's number, it wouldn't be easy—but it wouldn't be impossible either; the number she got, however, might not be his personal one.

After all, someone at Yan Li's level having multiple phones and numbers is perfectly normal.

A work number may still be used for private matters, but its nature and effect are vastly different.

Lan Yan didn't know whether this number was Yan Li's personal one, but she felt it was more reliable and direct than chasing rumors.

"You drank with Yan Zong?"

Bai Bing was surprised—she remembered Lan Yan had gone out with the production crew.

They'd even invited her, but Bai Bing disliked such occasions and, confident in her own connections, had ignored it.

"Yeah, Yan Zong was there too. He didn't come for our show—probably just the TV station arranging a reception. This has happened before."

"..."

Bai Bing was speechless. Why did the production crew keep such tight lips? If they'd said Yan Li was there, wouldn't she have gone?

Of course the crew kept quiet—if they hadn't, every contestant would've rushed over.

At such events, numbers don't matter—ambition does!

"Hey, are you giving it to me or not?"

Seeing Bai Bing's expression change but still ignore her, Lan Yan couldn't help pressing. Bai Bing, annoyed, snorted.

"No. If you want it, go get it yourself."

Saying that, she ignored Lan Yan and slammed the door. Lan Yan left with a nose full of rejection and went straight to complain to her agent Lina.

Lina called back quickly—but not to scold Bai Bing. Instead, she spoke gently and persuasively.

"If you're not taking action, you can't block others from advancing. If Lan Yan actually makes a connection and gains something, I won't let her forget you."

Bai Bing could ignore Lan Yan, another newcomer, but she dared not offend her agent.

Still, Bai Bing didn't want to benefit Lan Yan. Not only was their relationship mediocre and she didn't want Lan Yan to rise, but even for Wang Ou, she couldn't let her "big sister" have a fire in her backyard.

But she couldn't ignore Lina's face either. Refusal was fine—but she needed a plausible excuse.

"Sister Lina, I'll be honest with you: I've been in contact with Yan Zong for a while now, and things were starting to look promising. Giving the number to Lan Yan would just mess things up for me."

Bai Bing understood: Lina wanted her own artist to connect with Yan Li to climb the ladder and gain benefits.

Who exactly made the connection didn't matter to Lina.

She was pushing Lan Yan only because Bai Bing hadn't moved—she didn't want to waste the opportunity. But if Bai Bing acted, Lan Yan wouldn't be needed.

True enough, upon hearing Bai Bing's words, Lina perked up: "Really?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure yet, and I'm too embarrassed to say anything. Sister, you'll keep this quiet for me, right?"

"Don't worry—I'll keep it secret."

Lina said this aloud, but internally calculated: seducing Yan Li was difficult, so Bai Bing's lack of confidence was normal.

Embarrassment was understandable too—she was a latecomer to the industry, still new, and her mindset hadn't fully shifted yet. So her words carried some credibility.

Of course, this might also be a lie from Bai Bing—and the odds were high.

After all, she'd been silent for so long, and the moment Lan Yan moved, she suddenly claimed progress was underway. It could easily be an excuse.

But Lina had no intention of exposing her. Compared to letting Lan Yan try, she favored Bai Bing—after all, Bai Bing was the one who had actually contacted Yan Li and possessed his contact.

This clearly meant Bai Bing had made a good impression on Yan Li, giving her a higher chance of success.

Her earlier support for Lan Yan was partly to avoid wasting the opportunity, but also to spur Bai Bing on.

Now Bai Bing had been spurred—she'd spoken boldly and revealed her true intentions.

Lina could now proceed with a plan, and had grounds to pressure or even arrange things.

Lina was pragmatic. She immediately abandoned Lan Yan and began advising Bai Bing.

Today, Yan Li came to film the show and briefly met Bai Bing. She could use that as an excuse to chat with him, then steer the conversation toward the evening's drinking party.

Bai Bing hadn't attended the party and missed Yan Li—seeming like a loss—but viewed differently, it became an advantage.

For people like Yan Li, lack of ambition is boring; too much ambition looks frivolous.

Bai Bing could subtly put down Lan Yan and the others—not to appear as a lotus rising pure from mud, but enough to let Yan Li know she was clean-cut, enhancing her appeal and value.

Listening to Lina's confident monologue over the phone, Bai Bing looked utterly bewildered.

At first glance, the advice sounded reasonable—but the more she thought about it, the more it felt off. Sister Lina's tone didn't sound like an agent—it sounded like… a madam.

Shaking her head, Bai Bing dispelled the thought and mumbled her way through the conversation.

After hanging up, Bai Bing sighed deeply—but another worry arose. Lina was taking this seriously; she couldn't keep fobbing her off forever. She needed to show results.

But how could she produce results? She had no power to make Yan Zong act out a scene for her.

Hmm… looks like she'd have to ask Sister Ou for help.

Thinking of that "big sister," Bai Bing felt reassured. She was essentially taking a bullet for her—Sister Ou wouldn't let her die.

Bai Bing put down her phone, ready to sleep again—but for some reason, she couldn't fall asleep.

Thinking over Lina's advice, she gritted her teeth, pulled up Yan Li's number, and typed a greeting message.

No other intention—she just disliked Lan Yan, and simply wanted to give her a little prick…

…

Fuli City

Yan Li, freshly showered, glanced at his screen, replied with two words, then turned his attention back to Qin Lan.

"And then?"

"Then I listed them as reserve members. How's that? To pave the way for Gan Wei's entry into the group, I even brought in Ying Cai'er, recommended by Liu Yun—this way, it's not abrupt, and it's balanced."

LeTV's Lao Jia had his eye on the Teddy Sisters, and sent his girlfriend Gan Wei to infiltrate them.

Assigned this task, Gan Wei worked hard for half a year, using her close friend Xiong Naijin to recruit and bribe Hu Siyan and Li Xiaolu, spending heavily.

Then, through the three of them, she connected with Qin Lan, cultivated the relationship over time, and finally won Qin Lan's approval to admit her into the Teddy Sisters.

Of course, Gan Wei was still a reserve member, under a so-called probation period—but barring accidents, she'd become a full member soon enough.

Lao Jia and Gan Wei were delighted, unaware that Qin Lan had agreed to admit Gan Wei only because Yan Li had guided her.

As previously mentioned, although LeTV ultimately ended poorly, it had generated many benefits during its rise.

Yan Li sometimes couldn't act directly, so he used Qin Lan and the Teddy Sisters as his proxy—gaining or losing, it appeared unrelated to Yan Li or his enterprises.

You could call it covering one's ears while stealing a bell—but often, such deception is necessary.

Qin Lan didn't understand Yan Li's intentions, but whatever he said, she did.

As for Ying Cai'er, she was someone Liu Yun had met on the set of "The Deer and the Cauldron," and had a decent relationship with her; she also got along well with Hu Siyan, and gradually became familiar with the Teddy Sisters.

Qin Lan liked her, felt they were compatible, and brought her into the group to help Gan Wei's integration and balance the power between Hu and Li.

The Teddy Sisters grew from seven to nine members, nearing double digits.

Yan Li didn't care how many members the Teddy Sisters had—he only cared that Gan Wei had joined.

As for Gan Wei's treatment, Yan Li instructed Qin Lan to treat her normally, nothing more.

It was just a spare move—whether it would ever be used, or when, remained uncertain.

Qin Lan nodded, understanding. Seeing Yan Li occasionally fiddling with his phone, she couldn't help asking.

"Who are you chatting with?"

Yan Li replied calmly: "Bingbing."

Qin Lan grew annoyed at those two syllables. She didn't even bother asking whether it was Li or Fan—she simply demanded Yan Li stop contacting her. He complied, tossing his phone aside.

"You don't talk to her. Talk to me."

Qin Lan regretted it—this bastard had been drinking today—but there was no escape. To suffer less, she had to deploy every tactic she could.

So she reached behind her…

(End of chapter)