Chapter 290: Two Are Bingbing, Only Then Is It Truly Bingbing

After Li Bingbing joined the crew, she didn't rush into filming but first did makeup and costume tests.

For a big production like "Painted Skin," actors usually undergo makeup and costume tests before finalizing their roles, but Bingbing and Shuangbing were among those whose roles were confirmed beforehand, so they'd only done simple trials earlier.

To avoid any mismatches, she quickly made adjustments, so Li Bingbing had to try nearly identical makeup and costumes every day.

The normal looks were fine, but the "transformation into a demon" scenes required an eerie yet beautiful aesthetic, infused with personal flair—this gave the costume team considerable trouble.

The behind-the-scenes crew of "Painted Skin" consisted of three parts.

One part was Yi'an's old team; over the years they'd shot many dramas, including several masterpieces, and Yi'an still had plenty of talent under him.

But most of them primarily worked on TV dramas, rarely on films, and even less on big-budget productions.

Yanli's intention this time was also to train the team—if they could successfully complete "Painted Skin," many would gain valuable large-scale production experience and professional growth.

Another part consisted of some Hong Kong personnel brought by director Chen Jiashang.

Any established director always has trusted teams or individuals he works with regularly.

This can't be avoided; otherwise, if the director came alone, he'd waste time just adapting to the crew, and the results might not be good.

In the industry, there's a term called "xing huo," which translates to doing things by the book—adequate, but nothing exceptional.

Although these Hong Kong directors have their quirks, if you don't give them authority or their own people, they can't even make decent scenes—they'll just resort to "xing huo."

So, to let a director perform at a certain level, you must hire a package of his own people.

The third part consisted of industry elites outside the first two groups, such as independent small teams or personnel from certain institutions.

The current film industry tends to idolize people from Hong Kong and Taiwan.

In costume design, Ye Jintian, Zhang Shuping, and a few others were fiercely sought after by every production team.

Not only did Hong Kong directors favor them, but mainland directors and actors also chased after them obsessively.

One reason was their genuine talent and illustrious track records; another was a lack of confidence—they believed Hong Kong and Taiwan's film industries were more advanced and professional.

Yanli was among the few who didn't idolize Hong Kong behind-the-scenes teams; he even felt they were inferior in some aspects.

Especially in historical costumes, since Hong Kong's historical looks originated from opera and Ming-Qing styles, they lacked understanding or interest in studying authentic history, so they mixed in many original and Western/Japanese-Korean elements.

When inspiration struck, the results were stunningly exquisite; when it didn't, the designs were bizarre and jarring.

In contrast, the mainland side, though lacking in production experience and perhaps less imaginative, had vast historical references and prototypes to draw from.

Especially those old studios and state-run film units—many had spent most of their lives on this work, researching costumes for a drama or film by digging through national archives, spending months or even years studying designs.

These people's research and attention to historical accuracy in costume design were incomparable to those stylists who casually gave characters messy hair and light-colored pajamas.

The costume and makeup of earlier works like "Lu Xiaofeng Legend" and "Yang Yuhuan Legend" received considerable recognition precisely because of this.

For "Painted Skin," Yanli specifically brought in top experts, since the plot's setting was somewhat fictionalized, so historical accuracy wasn't crucial—what mattered was emphasizing beauty.

Although the film was barely two hours long, Li Bingbing's costumes and makeup had over a dozen variations, and her hairstyles alone numbered in the double digits, covering states like young girl, young wife, casual, formal attire, and demon transformation.

This was just for Li Bingbing alone; Fan Xiaopang, as the demon, faced even greater complexity and difficulty in his design.

The simplest case was Sun Li—she played a wandering demon hunter who didn't care about clothes or food, so she only needed two or three similar outfits.

When Yanli wrapped up for the day, he came over to take a look at Li Bingbing.

White hair, white eyebrows, pale skin with faint bluish-black demonic markings, red contact lenses, a purple V-neck robe adorned with black and red patterns…

Yanli studied her in the mirror for a few moments and thought the effect was decent—he could consider adding some tearful blood or a pair of fangs during filming.

That was all—after all, it was a commercial film; Li Bingbing could sacrifice her image, but not make herself look too terrifying.

There were other makeup test photos nearby; Yanli flipped through them briefly.

Wang Shi, the general's lawful wife, was designed for a virtuous, gentle demeanor, but considering Li Bingbing's appearance, they added a tweak—she was from a military family and practiced swordplay with her husband, matching her heroic, spirited aura.

After Li Bingbing finished her makeup, they began shooting the test photos; once done, she found a quiet moment and spoke in a seductive tone.

"How do you like it? There aren't many outfits left—can I ask the makeup artist to wrap up early? I'll wear this and go ask Director Yan for feedback?"

Yanli: "..."

When filming "Xue Rengui Legend," he occasionally scolded Princess Zhao Yang outside of scenes, letting her know his preferences—now she was tempting him again.

Honestly, the white-haired demoness was quite novel.

But Yanli had principles; to reduce the wig-like appearance, the white hair was custom-made, and this outfit was probably only available in two copies—if she moved too much and damaged it, filming would be delayed.

So he'd endure it for now—after filming wrapped, he'd keep the outfit and properly subdue the demon later.

Maybe, if lucky, he could convince Fan Xiaopang to join him in a scene titled "General Yan's Clubbing of the True and False Demonesses."

"Pfft, boring."

Li Bingbing sighed—this guy was fine normally, but once on set, he became visibly restrained, always worrying about image and crew work and all that.

But this wasn't bad—normally she was the one getting scolded by this bastard; now she could tease him a little, and it felt even more thrilling.

Yanli shook his head; they say a woman at thirty is like a she-wolf, at forty like a tiger—Li Bingbing, the more familiar she became with him, the older she got, the more wolfish and tigerish she became.

"Your sister hasn't left yet—aren't you afraid she'll blow up?"

Yanli instinctively targeted Li Bingbing's weakness, but she raised an eyebrow.

"Not afraid."

Yanli was surprised: "You've come to terms with it?"

"Come to terms with your damn self!"

Li Bingbing didn't get it at first, then realized what he meant—she pinched him before saying:

"I recently set up my sister with someone—they're getting along well."

Li Bingbing knew no matter how many excuses she made, stealing her sister's crush was unethical—it had always been her emotional wound.

So she'd constantly tried to set her sister up with someone; if her sister found happiness, Li Bingbing could finally put her guilt to rest.

Li Xue initially resisted, but now that enough time had passed, with her sister constantly pushing and Yanli never making a move, she'd gradually given up.

"That's good."

Yanli nodded upon hearing this; Li Bingbing glanced at him: "Doesn't it bother you that my sister found someone?"

"Why would I be jealous?"

Yanli was speechless—he'd never been interested in Li Xue; it was all one-sided on her part.

Later, as their relationship grew closer, Li Xue cooperated with him, helped him out, and since he'd entertained thoughts about the sister duo, he'd briefly entertained some romantic ideas.

But after Li Bingbing's fierce resistance, realizing it was impossible, he didn't want the sisters to fall out or break ties with him, so he gradually let it go.

His occasional mutterings were just jokes and ways to tease Li Bingbing.

It's not that Yanli was boasting, but plenty of women had shown interest in him or confessed their feelings—if he got jealous of every one, he'd drown in vinegar every day.

"Cold-hearted—thank goodness my sister didn't go with you."

Unlike Yanli's calmness, Li Bingbing knew how deeply her sister had loved Yanli, so she felt indignant on her sister's behalf.

Yanli couldn't keep his composure: "You've got all the arguments—what are you implying? Should I go win your sister back?"

"You dare!"

Li Bingbing panicked—though she talked big, she sensed Li Xue had only agreed to try because she was tired of being pressured.

But regardless, this was Li Xue letting go of Yanli and embracing a new life.

If this bastard interfered, things could go badly.

Yanli's eyes flickered slightly—he'd just mentioned Li Xue had found someone, and he'd been thinking how to manipulate Li Bingbing; now he knew exactly how.

"Sister Bingbing, you don't want your sister's relationship ruined, do you?"

Li Bingbing flipped him the middle finger: "Despicable."

"Sister, did you just meet me today?"

After some laughter, Yanli wouldn't actually sabotage their relationship—he was just using it as an excuse. Li Bingbing understood this too, but sometimes people needed a face-saving excuse.

Li Bingbing was older and proud of her status as a top actress, so she cared about her dignity—she needed Yanli to give her a reason to compromise.

It wasn't that she wanted to do something; it was that this shameless man threatened her, so she was "forced" into it.

Even from his intelligence analysis, Yanli detected a special compensatory psychology and self-sacrifice narrative here.

Li Bingbing felt guilty about stealing her sister's crush; when Yanli used Li Xue to pressure her, she'd feel she was doing it for her sister, reducing her guilt and even viewing herself as "suffering for her sister"—a noble act.

Yanli didn't know what Li Xue thought, but he felt both Li Bingbing and himself were equally shameless.

…

Li Bingbing didn't enjoy her victory for two days—Fan Xiaopang soon joined the crew.

On the day Fan Xiaopang's entry was confirmed, the entire "Painted Skin" crew was shrouded in an eerie atmosphere.

Excitement, fear, agitation, confusion, resistance, tension…

All emotions were present; everyone treated this key moment with solemnity.

Yanli took half a day off—not filming, but staying on set to prevent unnecessary trouble.

Li Xue, who rarely appeared since joining, showed up on set today, standing beside her sister, surrounded by Li Bingbing's other team members.

Perhaps worried about a rivalry between the two Bingbings, Li Bingbing arrived with a huge entourage—eight people in total, including Li Xue.

Her agent Li Xue, one executive agent, two assistants, a personal makeup artist, a driver, and two bodyguards.

Honestly, Yanli's own entourage was smaller.

He usually had just one driver and one assistant; when traveling or needing help, he'd bring two to four bodyguards.

Of course, Yanli could flexibly mobilize the entire "Painted Skin" crew and Yi'an's regional staff—he could easily summon a hundred or so people.

Li Bingbing's entourage was large, but Fan Xiaopang's was even bigger—he arrived with one minivan and one RV, accompanied by thirteen staff members.

One executive agent, one PR person, one business manager, two assistants, two drivers, three bodyguards (including one female personal bodyguard), a personal makeup artist, a personal stylist, and damn—he even brought a chef.

Yanli laughed—he saw that aside from Jia Qian, who doubled as agent, Fan Xiaopang had moved his entire team onto the set, even hiring an extra driver and chef.

Fan Xiaopang stepped out of the car wearing sunglasses, followed by a long line of people—utterly imposing.

The producer, headachingly, asked Yanli: "Director Yan, how do we accommodate all these extra people?"

Over a dozen people, all Fan Xiaopang's crew—their accommodations can't be too poor; food, drink, lodging, and transport are all extra expenses.

Yan Li asked: "How many people does the contract specify?"

"Five."

"Both of them?"

"Yes."

For big-name actors joining the set, the production usually has a dedicated budget to handle their entourages.

Some big names bring even more extravagant teams—not just large crews, but entire families, including wives, children, even in-laws.

Who pays, and how, is always negotiated in the contract: if the actor is strong, the production pays; if the production is strong, the actor pays out of pocket.

Before "Painted Skin," the contract with Shuang Bing stipulated a five-person team.

That means, if the artist brings five or fewer staff members, the production covers food and lodging; anything beyond that is their own responsibility.

"Then stick to the contract."

Yan Li set the tone: it had already been agreed—the production must treat everyone equally.

How many people each of them brings is a personal matter; Yan Li couldn't guarantee perfect fairness, but from the production's standpoint, no matter how many they bring, their treatment must be identical.

"But what if someone comes to me…"

The producer still hesitated—the plan was good, but if those two goddesses complained, he couldn't hold them off.

"Whoever comes to you, tell them to come to me."

"Understood."

With Yan Li's words, the producer felt reassured—no matter how arrogant those two were, the "Painted Skin" set still belonged to Yan.

In the corner, Deng Chao and Wu Jing, who had become familiar over the past few days, watched in astonishment as Fan Xiaopang arrived with her entourage.

"No wonder she's Yi'an's top diva—impressive."

Wu Jing sighed, while Deng Chao smirked: "What about the one from Huayi?"

He thought Fan Xiaopang was simply benefiting from a late-mover advantage.

Deng Chao had joined Yi'an only recently, but he'd already met several people on set; Fan Xiaopang, of course, could easily assess Li Bingbing's strength and deliberately give her a stern warning.

"I've always heard about the Four Dan and Two Bing—now I've seen it firsthand. Truly awesome."

Wu Jing knew Fan Xiaopang—they'd acted together years ago, but Wu Jing later moved to Hong Kong's industry, when Fan Xiaopang was still unknown.

Because of this, Wu Jing, who had mostly developed his career in Hong Kong, had no concrete sense of the "Four Dan and Two Bing" phenomenon that had exploded in the entertainment circle over the past two years.

Only today, seeing the transformed Fan Xiaopang and recalling the girl with messy hair from years ago, Wu Jing could hardly believe his eyes.

"The Two Bing are impressive, but the most impressive is still Director Yan."

Deng Chao countered—those two women were each more domineering than the other, yet Yan Li had completely subdued them and even brought them together—how could anyone not admire and respect him?

"… "

Wu Jing couldn't help glancing at Deng Chao—no wonder Yan Li signed him; he'd even heard Yan Li was pushing him to become the top male star.

He really knew how to suck up!

Just as Wu Jing was considering whether to learn a thing or two, Deng Chao nudged him: "Hey hey, Li Bingbing's coming out—they've run into each other."

"Keep your voice down."

Fan Xiaopang made such a grand entrance precisely to show off to someone, so she didn't head to the hotel first—she came straight to the set to "report in."

As a core creator, Fan Xiaopang's arrival meant everyone with free time had to come greet her.

Li Bingbing was no exception—otherwise it would be impolite, and worse, it would make people think she was afraid of Fan Xiaopang.

So Li Bingbing also came over with her own team.

Though fewer in number, Li Xue had beforehand boosted morale with words and incentives, and since they were fresh and waiting, their presence was nearly as formidable.

Ten people on one side, nearly ten on the other—the director, Chen Jia, felt caught in the middle.

"Bingbing, you're here—go ahead and chat."

After saying that, Chen Jia wanted to slap himself—why did he have to add fuel to the fire?

There was no way out: the Two Bing were too unique, sharing the same name—he'd stumbled into this, and no matter how he addressed them, it was wrong.

Sure enough, as soon as Chen Jia spoke, Li Bingbing and Fan Xiaopang's glances turned sharp.

Two Bingbings—who was the real Bingbing?!

They'd faced similar awkwardness before, like during "The Seven Fairies," when naming was confusing; Yan Li privately called them both Bingbing, but publicly one was Bingbing and the other was Xiao Fan.

That usage wasn't wrong at the time—Fan Xiaopang hadn't risen yet, and the undisputed Bingbing was Li Bingbing.

But now it was different: Fan Xiaopang had risen, was fighting on home turf, and was subtly even more dominant—calling her Xiao Fan would never be accepted.

Xiao Fan wouldn't work; Xiao Li was worse; calling both Bingbing was too confusing; calling them by their full names felt too cold and formal.

Call Fan "Bingbing," and Li "Sister Bingbing"?