Chapter 286: The Massive Capital Pool and the Charity Night: Four Stars and Two Soldiers Gather

Since before last year's bull market began, Yan Li had gathered funds to start stock trading, accumulating over a year of time.

During this period, Yan Li made various investments and acquired property, with a significant portion of the capital originating from the stock market.

For example, the 150 million yuan invested in Yi'an Cinema Chain was entirely drawn from stock market proceeds.

Currently, Yan Li's stock market funds total only about 250 million yuan, because he has consistently withdrawn profits for various reasons, keeping the stock capital at a level that is not particularly conspicuous.

Only as he approached exiting the market did he slightly increase it, but he still planned to gradually withdraw.

Exactly how much money Yan Li made during the entire bull market, he himself couldn't clearly say right now.

Because stock trading involves both losses and gains; although he withdrew substantial sums, during favorable market conditions or certain moments, he would reinvest idle capital back in.

But it is certain that after retaining some long-term holdings and withdrawing most of the stock market funds, he held at least 300 million yuan in cash.

Moreover, these cash reserves were not his entire capital.

Yi'an's accounts held a sum of money; as of now, the company had consistently remained profitable.

Although most of the funds were reinvested into projects, the accounts still retained money, even under Yan Li's periodic withdrawals.

YanYe Capital also had funds, as it was an investment firm and inevitably retained surplus capital.

Moreover, although most of YanYe's invested companies were in early growth stages, a very few could pay dividends—in other words, YanYe was profitable.

Not only dividends, but shares in companies he no longer favored or whose market conditions had changed could also be sold or liquidated, similarly generating cash flow.

Additionally, Yan Li had allocated funds to the newly established Weibo for its development, sufficient to cover all initial preparations and operations.

Combined, these cash flows exceeded 100 million yuan, but since they pertained to company growth, they could not be lightly touched unless absolutely necessary.

There was also usable liquid cash!

During the World Cup, Yan Li had placed a sum of money in Xiangjiang, and considering financial crisis preparations, he had also set aside additional capital to see if he could profit.

These two sums were, respectively, an overseas contingency reserve for operational flexibility and chips for the gaming table.

Making a fortune during a financial crisis was no easy task.

Countless tycoons and financial sharks had been utterly destroyed; even with his system's aid, Yan Li would never be blindly optimistic.

He had reached this point, earned hundreds of millions from the stock market, withdrawn safely and inconspicuously, and propelled several companies to rapid, promising growth—all thanks to one word: 【Steadiness】.

So, gamble if you must, but remain cautious.

Yan Li had specifically set aside a separate fund: if he made a huge profit, fine; if he lost, it would remain within acceptable limits and not affect his other strategies.

Then there was Yan Li's personal slush fund.

It was built up gradually, bit by bit, from various sources, meant for personal enjoyment or small purchases—its amount was modest, under 20 million yuan.

Dong Xuan and Qin Lan, due to the so-called "escape plan" from earlier, had each saved some of the money Yan Li had given them.

The exact figures were unclear, but after several years, together they likely had around 10 to 20 million yuan.

But these two sums were purely personal or family savings; if Yan Li were forced to touch them, he might as well declare company bankruptcy and start over.

In short, Yan Li didn't just have multiple escape routes emotionally—he deeply understood the principle that you shouldn't put all your eggs in one basket when it came to personal finances.

And notably, the above only accounted for Yan Li's personally accessible cash flow.

If he employed every possible means—borrowing, loans, financing—he could mobilize an astonishingly large sum.

Without exaggeration, given his reputation and aura, if he asked for money, several banks would compete to hand it over.

Yan Li acted with caution, thinking three steps ahead, always preparing for failure before planning for success, and withdrawing promptly if things went awry.

Thus, he appeared relatively "low-key," but if he unleashed his full power, combined with his intelligence network, even the top few players on the leaderboard would be left with broken teeth.

…

After tallying his funds, Yan Li felt his wallet was still full and his confidence restored.

Then, he began spending.

"Spending" was an exaggeration—there were only two targets.

One was Yi'an Cinema Chain: the final two theaters were nearly complete, one already preparing for opening, the other in final renovation.

This officially marked the completion of Yi'an's initial cinema chain construction, and simultaneously, the company's funds were nearly exhausted.

Yi'an's accounts still held money, since theater profits were still minimal and the film market had not yet flourished—sufficient operating capital had to be retained.

New theaters didn't have to be built; he could simply maintain the current scale. If this money were misused, even salaries and utilities could become problematic.

Beyond this non-negotiable operating fund, the remaining capital was insufficient to build another high-standard new theater.

To expand, more investment was needed!

Because Yan Li intended to expand dramatically during the financial crisis, this investment didn't need to be huge, but it couldn't be too small either.

After all, a financial crisis didn't erupt overnight—especially one triggering global industry upheaval, which required time to ferment.

At least a year's time, even if not growing rapidly, couldn't be wasted.

So Yan Li's plan was to raise 100 to 150 million yuan, primarily building six to eight standard-screen theaters, continuing to expand Yi'an's national cinema network.

For this investment, Yan Li personally contributed 30 to 50 million yuan.

Considering the financial crisis, Yan Li wanted to invest less now and later repurchase shares at lower prices.

But he couldn't: if the cinema chain received investment but no returns, as the initiator, his small contribution would raise concerns among others—so he needed at least 20 to 30 percent, if not half.

The other target was still under discussion: Jingdong.

Before traveling to Europe, Yan Li met Liu, the boss of Jingdong Mall, through Xu, the head of Today Capital.

Yan Li evaluated him as bold and visionary, with more street-smart charisma than even Ren Gaocai, possessing a certain personal magnetism and a fondness for boasting.

He wasn't sure whether this was his true personality or merely a tactic to attract investment.

Liu constantly painted grand blueprints for Jingdong, casually claiming he'd crush Taobao and trample Amazon.

This posture was familiar to Yan Li. He had met many entrepreneurs, including himself.

A founder who couldn't boast wasn't a good founder—even if the founder himself couldn't boast, he must find a partner or executive who could.

But boasts vary in scale; this Liu boss was one who boasted loudly and firmly.

Yan Li didn't care whether his boasts were exaggerated.

But since Liu dared to boast so boldly, he must have had strong confidence in Jingdong's future—in other words, with high financing costs, he wouldn't easily sell shares at low prices.

Especially after Today Capital had already invested 10 million U. . dollars, Jingdong's need for capital wasn't urgent.

As of the investment cutoff, Jingdong's revenue was only around 60 million yuan, with fewer than a hundred employees, primarily focused on self-operated home appliances and digital products, while logistics was still in its infancy.

If Yan Li invested, Jingdong would certainly accept—no one turns down money, especially during a rapid cash-burning phase—but the equity percentage would be hard to determine.

So their previous meeting hadn't gone well; Yan Li had once considered abandoning the Jingdong investment.

Until early September, Yan Li received a monthly intelligence report.

The report wasn't complex—it simply outlined Jingdong's projected valuations over the next five years.

In 2007, this year, Today Capital had valued Jingdong at 150 million U. . dollars.

This valuation was inflated, benefiting from the e-commerce and internet bubble, and Today Capital's equity stake certainly couldn't be calculated at that rate.

According to Yan Li's understanding, Today Capital's stake was around 15 percent; Liu was extremely cautious and conservative about equity dilution.

Especially since he knew Jingdong would require massive cash burn, he had to ensure he retained enough shares to continuously raise funds.

The 150 million U. . dollar valuation was likely the result of both parties jointly inflating the valuation after Today Capital's investment.

Yan Li and Liu had discussed Jingdong's valuation at this figure.

He would need to pay 15 million U. . dollars to acquire 10 percent of Jingdong—but even then, Jingdong, not short on cash, wouldn't offer that much; at most, they'd accept a 5 percent stake.

Yan Li even suspected that Jingdong, besides seeking media and internet resources, also wanted to balance Today Capital's influence.

High money, low equity—so Yan Li had once considered abandoning the deal.

But the monthly intelligence report on Jingdong's historical valuations changed his mind.

The report showed that during the 2008 financial crisis, Jingdong's valuation had halved, especially during its cash-flow crunch, when its lowest valuation didn't exceed 30 million U. . dollars.

Neither Jingdong nor Today Capital could accept this valuation; they collaborated to secure over 20 million U. . dollars in funding in 2009, overcoming the crisis and pushing Jingdong's market value above 200 million U. . dollars.

After the financial crisis, economic recovery and favorable industry conditions propelled Jingdong's rapid growth.

In 2011, its valuation surged dozens of times; its Series C round raised 1. billion U. . dollars for 25 percent equity, reaching a 6 billion U. . dollar valuation.

In 2012, further investment brought its total valuation close to 7. billion U. . dollars, with plans for an IPO.

The monthly intelligence covered five future years; Yan Li had only seen up to now, but it was already enough.

Moreover, fragments of other intelligence also confirmed Jingdong's boundless potential.

At the current valuation, 7. million U. . dollars for 5 percent equity—even after future dilution—if he could retain just 1 percent, it would be worth nearly 75 million U. . dollars.

And this was still before listing; the value would be higher after IPO, and Yan Li's future follow-on investments might secure more than 1 percent.

Moreover, one of Yan Li's original reasons for investing in Jingdong was to coordinate e-commerce collaboration with Tudou and Weibo.

Helping his own companies while making money—this deal was worth his attention.

But 7. million U. . dollars for 5 percent was far less than Today Capital's deal; even if they were the first investor, he hadn't lagged far behind.

So he needed further talks—either invest less, like 5 million U. . dollars, or get more equity.

Of course, Yan Li had also considered abandoning this investment and waiting to buy in during the financial crisis.

But he feared missing the timing—if he botched the move and failed to get on board, the loss would be enormous.

Several million U. . dollars wasn't beyond his means, and the future return was extremely high.

Once aboard, Jingdong's Series B financing during the financial crisis couldn't bypass him—he might even become the main player.

Moreover, Yan Li had assessed Liu's character and found him, reluctantly, a man of feeling.

Getting on board now, and contributing during the financial crisis, would mean sharing the same boat; future cooperation between both companies would benefit mutually, binding them deeper through both interest and friendship.

If he boarded only after the crisis, his motives might be viewed as opportunistic, damaging the relationship.

If both Yi'an and Jingdong were fully funded, the total would be around 100 million yuan.

Yan Li still held sufficient financial ammunition to ensure the stable progress of Yi'an, Weibo, and other projects, safeguarding his own interests.

But if you want to harvest the maximum returns, it all comes down to how much money you can win from the table.

————

In September, "The Sun Also Rises" premiered to decent buzz but abysmal box office.

Yan Li had estimated it would earn no more than 30 million, thinking that conservative—only to find even breaking 20 million seemed unlikely.

Even more surprising: the film rushed to Venice but returned empty-handed, and at the Tokyo Film Festival, it won only two consolation prizes.

Aside from triggering a frenzy among hipster intellectuals and leftists, it earned no box office and no awards—by any measure, it was not a successful film.

Yan Li was fine; due to Yu Fatty's all-in gamble, his share and investment were small, so he didn't lose much.

The Wang brothers felt the same—not overly devastated, but now even more convinced Jiang Wen was a jinx, vowing never to invest in his next film.

Yang Boss of Ying Huang held a larger share and lost more, yet he displayed the demeanor of a true film tycoon, acting as if it were nothing.

Yan Li even wondered: had he grown accustomed to losing, or were these losses not even his own money?

He'd heard Yang Boss ran other businesses, with significant stakes in Macau and Southeast Asia.

The most crushed were Jiang Wen and Yu Fatty!

Jiang Wen had high hopes for this film, only to be slapped hard across the face—he was stunned, and called Yan Li multiple times privately to apologize.

Yan Li personally lost little, but he had brought in Huayi, Ying Huang, and Bona—this project's failure reflected poorly on him.

Some even started rumors: Yan Li had enjoyed unbroken success in film investments since his debut, yet he'd been defeated by Jiang Wen, breaking his invincible myth.

The Golden Touch could not overcome the Box Office Curse!

Yan Li himself remained calm—he'd anticipated this when he invested.

He couldn't shoulder the burden of an invincible myth; no one wins forever. If anything, the pressure of such a reputation was worse—cooling it down a bit was actually better.

Yan Li hadn't spent all these years for nothing—his track record spoke for itself; this setback couldn't shake his foundation.

If someone abandoned him over one loss, they weren't a good partner anyway—the ones who stayed were more rational, and thus better partners.

Yan Li didn't care, but he could use this to prod Jiang Wen.

My buddy backed you and got crushed— if you're a real man, put together a profitable project and slap their faces for us.

To Jiang Wen, Yan Li mixed reassurance with provocation; to Yu Fatty, he offered only comfort.

With a 100-million-yuan guarantee, Yu Fatty knew the risk was high—but he was spending money to buy market presence and influence.

Still, his own estimate for "The Sun Also Rises" was at least 50 to 60 million—so even if he lost, it would be within acceptable limits.

Now the film earned under 20 million, far below even Yu Fatty's lowest baseline.

"Yan Er, I truly regret not listening to you."

Yu Fatty was devastated—Bona didn't make money easily; its core business of film distribution yielded low returns, film investment carried high risk, and its scattergun approach meant more losses than profits.

So despite Bona's involvement in many films each year, appearing bustling, its actual profits were far behind Yi'an's.