Chapter 283: Xinghewan, the Prelude of the Two Bings, and the Water Margin Film City

The first thing Fan Xiaopang did after returning from Zhuozhou was take Yan Li to tour their new home in Xinghewan.

This house exceeds 450 square meters and wasn't delivered until two months after the Spring Festival.

After various planning, design, and revision rounds, it has only just entered the renovation phase.

Considering the size and Fan Xiaopang's high renovation standards, the renovation will take at least several months, plus additional time for furniture installation, fine-tuning, and ventilation—so moving in by next spring would be good, and for safety's sake, it might take even longer.

Although there's still time before they move in, Fan Xiaopang is very invested—whenever she returns to Beijing, she makes time to drop by and take a look.

She can't afford to be careless; the house cost nearly 15 million, the renovation quality is high, and with furniture and everything else, the total value will be close to 20 million.

Remember, this is 2007—homes in the million-yuan range still crushed countless families.

Even if this price isn't the ceiling, it's beyond the reach—or even imagination—of countless people.

Fan Xiaopang is among the top tier of actor incomes, but without Yan Li's help, she could've only afforded a down payment and would've had to cut her renovation budget.

She's not unable to afford 20 million… well, that's debatable.

After all, Fan Xiaopang only started making big money these past two years, and she spends just as much—she couldn't possibly dump all her cash into one house.

If it weren't for wanting a new love nest and having high standards, she wouldn't have spent so heavily on this Xinghewan mansion.

Now that the house is bought, fully paid for, and renovation has begun with luxury standards, Fan Xiaopang is delighted—and already planning how to show it off.

Such an expensive, beautiful house is too good to just live in—it must be flaunted.

Yan Li isn't as frivolous as her, but he's also somewhat eager.

He's been to and lived in even larger mansions, but those were other people's places—this is his own home, a completely different thing.

Still, urban apartment living feels a bit lacking—what he really wants is a pool and a small garden.

That's out of the question for this building; even ordinary villas are hard to come by—it'd have to be a top-tier mansion or buying land to build his own.

Yan Li prefers to build his own—troublesome, yes, but more aligned with his tastes.

He's heard several entrepreneur friends talk about acquiring land in Xishan or Yuquan District to build a batch of villas for sale, then keeping some plots for themselves to construct their preferred villas or estates.

Yan Li thinks this idea is good; besides Xishan, he's heard the villa district in Shunyi is thriving—he'll look into it later.

Both locations are a bit farther than urban districts, but not excessively so, and within acceptable range, with more convenient facilities and amenities.

But all that's for the future.

Right now, Yan Li doesn't have enough spare cash for such luxury—he'll settle for transitioning through Xinghewan, Fuli City, and similar places.

No matter how much he likes this house, it's still just a raw shell under renovation; Fan Xiaopang took two photos as mementos, then reluctantly left with Yan Li.

On the way, they found a restaurant for dinner, and Fan Xiaopang ordered heavily on meat dishes, leaving Yan Li stunned.

Didn't the Red Cliff crew provide meals?!

Fan Xiaopang grunted: "I've been eating crew meals every day on set—I'm about to throw up."

Yan Li understood: Fan Xiaopang's "crew meals" weren't the usual boxed lunches, but custom nutritionist-prepared meals tailored to her personal needs.

They offer benefits like maintaining her figure, skin health, adequate nutrition, and metabolic boost.

The taste isn't bad—in fact, occasionally eating one feels great—but eating them daily is torturous.

Especially since Fan Xiaopang has a bit of a sweet tooth and prefers bold flavors; sticking to this diet long-term isn't pleasant for her.

Sometimes, she even finds ways to reduce the number of these meals—this time, her compliance on Red Cliff has only one reason—

Sister Zhiling!

Yan Li picked up a piece of fatty beef and placed it on Fan Xiaopang's plate: "Aren't you not taking her seriously?"

Fan Xiaopang bit into the beef: "I'm confident in my face, but this woman is too skinny, too tall—like a bamboo pole—she makes everyone else look better."

She isn't afraid of competing on looks, nor much on figure, but tall, slender types like her can sometimes be her kryptonite.

"This bitch has real game—only I feel slight pressure, and I can still hold my own; if it were Little Swallow, she'd get crushed."

Not wanting to lose face, Fan Xiaopang shifted to bashing her old rival.

Yan Li, listening to her brag, couldn't help asking: "I saw a news report the other day—lots of local villagers drove tractors to the set to see stars, and you were especially popular."

"Of course."

Fan Xiaopang was proud: on the Red Cliff set, she might not be the biggest star by status, but in terms of national recognition, few could match her.

Lin Zhiling?

Ask on the internet—hardly anyone knows her, let alone local villagers.

Liang Chaowei is at least a familiar face from Hong Kong films—people who've seen pirated DVDs recognize him; guys like Jin Chengwu and Zhang Zhen aren't even as popular as supporting actors like Guo Tao, You Yong, or Hou Yong.

As for Fan Xiaopang—ever heard of My Fair Princess?

Jin Suo may be her personal shame, but as of now, it remains her most influential and widely recognized role.

Not because other roles aren't good, but because My Fair Princess was a massive hit—and it's rebroadcast every year, constantly reinforcing its imprint.

Of course, Fan Xiaopang hasn't been idle all these years.

Roles like Golden Rat, Tie Xinlan, the Fifth Fairy, Daji, Xue Bing, Lian Nishang—all have had some impact, plus countless TV, print, and street ads—her face is thoroughly familiar.

Thus, Fan Xiaopang is unquestionably the most adored actress by locals during the Red Cliff shoot.

The news Yan Li saw was genuine reporting, though Fan Xiaopang's team certainly added a bit of spice.

Without exaggeration, during Red Cliff's production, Fan Xiaopang's exposure level was in a league of her own.

Not only was Lin Zhiling, the female lead, completely overshadowed, but even Liang Chaowei and others were upstaged.

So much so that some media and netizens complained Red Cliff should be renamed The Legend of Sun Shangxiang.

Fan Xiaopang didn't care about the controversy—she was playing a supporting role; if she didn't win outside the set, she'd just be elevating Lin Zhiling.

The only regret is that Sister Zhiling is too fragile—her base is in Taiwan, and she's not popular to begin with; their clash is like Tyson beating a little girl.

Far more exciting is Kung Fu Hustle—Cheng Long and Li Lianjie sparred, Li Bingbing and Liu Tianxian occasionally traded blows.

Speaking of which, Fan Xiaopang couldn't help mocking: "Those two sisters are useless—they can't even handle a little girl. Total trash."

In Fan Xiaopang's view, the Li sisters had home advantage, were veterans with experience, and should've easily crushed Liu Tianxian—but now Liu Tianxian seemed perfectly calm, even issuing press releases about Jinjun Hollywood.

"Don't underestimate Liu Tianxian."

Yan Li shook his head; Liu Tianxian isn't Lin Zhiling—she has her own team and backing, high national recognition and popularity, and a pile of gimmicks.

The Li sisters aren't lacking ability—they're just cautious.

Besides Huayi, they also had to watch Cheng Long and Li Lianjie's side; plus, there's a ten-year age gap—facing off directly would look like bullying, and losing would be even more humiliating.

"And…"

Yan Li couldn't help smiling: "She has no direct competition with Liu Tianxian—no need to fight to the death. Better save your strength for you."

The clash between the two Bings is the real highlight and biggest exposure.

Without the Painted Skin project, the Li sisters might've clashed with Liu Tianxian.

But now that Painted Skin exists, no matter how much they fight over Kung Fu Hustle, they can't escape Cheng and Li.

Since their goal of using these two kung fu legends to break into Hollywood is achieved, they shouldn't waste energy—just stay in shape and wait to face Fan Xiaopang.

"She's holding back to get me—I'm holding back to get her too."

Fan Xiaopang took a big gulp of water; she didn't know if Li Bingbing was holding back, but because Lin Zhiling was so weak, she and her team had saved plenty of energy—when the time came, they'd give those sisters a real surprise.

"Has the Painted Skin set start date been set?"

"Soon—September to October. You both have other commitments, and it's too hot to shoot now."

Shooting historical dramas in summer and winter is brutal—spring and autumn are ideal, neither too cold nor too hot.

Painted Skin's plot isn't complicated, and extensive prep has been done; actual shooting is estimated at around two months, plus or minus half a month.

That's the advantage of films—limited runtime; if all prep is thorough and shooting goes smoothly, it's much faster than TV dramas.

Compared to shooting, the post-production of Painted Skin will likely take longer due to heavy special effects; Yi'an is considering a summer or National Day slot.

In the past two years, domestic films have performed poorly in summer slots, leading to Hollywood blockbusters flooding the market.

Painted Skin has the gimmick of a domestic fantasy epic—if it directly competes with Hollywood productions costing tens or hundreds of millions, it's not a smart move.

Yan Li dislikes Hollywood, but he's not some blind anti-foreigner.

If you know something's doomed and will harm your own interests, stubbornly pushing ahead is stupid—he must be responsible for Painted Skin and everyone involved.

So, they'll need to observe the schedule carefully and secure a more favorable release window for Painted Skin.

Currently, domestic blockbusters are scarce; besides the Lunar New Year slot—the most fiercely contested—other release windows can be negotiated.

Even if you don't want to negotiate, the Film Bureau and China Film Group will help coordinate.

The country's annual box office and growth rate directly affect many people's political achievements.

"Besides the ones you mentioned—Lighting, China Film, Bona—what other companies are involved? How much of the pie are we getting, and how much have we invested?"

Fan Xiaopang had strong "hostess" instincts—not just caring about the film's prep, but also obsessing over how the money was split.

They'd just bought a house—they needed to make money fast.

"Two other parties provided resources: one offered funding and overseas rights distribution, with Hong Kong ties, and also gave Shanghai Film a stake, requiring them to provide theater and distribution support in Jiangsu, Zhejiang, Shanghai, and the south."

As previously noted, projects like Painted Skin ignite before release—they don't lack money.

Yan Li himself is excellent at raising investment; tens of millions are no problem for him.

The biggest investor in Painted Skin is a company called 【Juxin】 Investment, specializing in film investment.

Juxin is a company co-founded by Yan Li and several familiar financiers.

Yan Li provides the effort, others provide the capital; Yan Li manages the company, and profits are shared.

"Ju" means cooperation and gathering wealth; "Xin" is three golds—no need to explain.

Yan Li owns only 25% of the company, but holds full managerial control.

His share isn't large—he never intended to make money from this company; his goal is to bind financiers and capital to his film projects—and other ventures.

Negotiating project by project is too exhausting!

With this company, he can raise funds directly, guide investments himself, and when any project loses or gains, he doesn't need to argue—he just settles the final accounts.

After Juxin was established, Yan Li's investments in film and television became much more flexible and generous, greatly benefiting Yi'an's development.

Of course, it's easy to say, but those coal tycoons weren't easy to deal with.

The success of this company stemmed from Yan Li's reputation and credibility built over years of leading others to profit; anyone else trying to launch such a company would face far greater difficulty and could hardly match Juxin's scale.

Currently, Juxin was not short of funds, with liquid capital exceeding 60 million.

As the company expanded, Juxin would accept new shareholders or external capital, distributing dividends annually or via similar models.

Yan Li wasn't afraid of losing control of the company—it was merely a pool of capital, with all operations and projects firmly in his hands.

If anything changed, as long as the books were clean, he could walk away at any time and simply form another similar company with new partners.

After Juxin's establishment, it invested in three projects, with the largest being "Painted Skin," for which it provided 40 million yuan, securing a 30% stake.

Yi'an invested 20 million yuan itself, and with production and distribution, held a 40% stake.

The remaining 30% was split among several companies, raising 20 million yuan and various resources.

For example, China Film and Shanghai Film provided theater networks and distribution, Bona handled distribution, Light Media provided marketing and promotion, and the Xiangjiang Company managed overseas distribution and funding, among other things.

This ratio clearly showed that, aside from Yi'an gaining some advantage as the lead party, resource contributions mattered far more than pure financial investment.

Now that the scale had grown, Yan Li was less greedy and emphasized long-term cooperation; otherwise, Juxin's share would have been cut even further.

An 80-million-yuan budget was sufficient in Yan Li's calculation.

The cast of "Painted Skin" was primarily mainland-based, including Li Bing, and their film fees were low—not to mention that Li Bing and others had offered some friendship discounts.

Compared to other big-budget films, this saved a fortune, since the main expense of many blockbusters was the salaries of their big-name stars.

Take "The Promise" as an example: rumors claimed Li Lianjie earned 100 million, Liu Tianwang 16 million, Jin Chengwu 12 million, and Xu Jinglei 2 million—totaling 140 million, half of the rumored 300-million investment.

Not only were salaries saved, but special effects were cut too.

Here, credit must be given to Yan Li's intelligence network—post-production special effects had always been a hotbed of gray-area activity in film.