Chapter 298: The Painted Skin Wraps Up—The Two Bing Clash

Hengdian, exterior location

Deng Chao, wearing a demonic, monstrous face, was held by Wu Jing while Sun Li personally stabbed him through the chest.

Before dying, Deng Chao cried out with deep, desperate longing, "Xiao Wei," then fell silent.

Then Sun Li crawled into Wu Jing's dying arms; they exchanged a glance, Wu Jing smiled as he passed away, and Sun Li clutched him, wailing uncontrollably.

This scene blended reality with too much dark humor—Yan Li couldn't help but sit aside eating sunflower seeds.

But soon, it was Deng Chao and Sun Li's turn to snack on sunflower seeds.

With the supporting cast gone, it was now the leads' turn to battle.

Chronologically, the leads should confront each other first, then the supporting cast fights—but since Fan Xiaopang and Li Bing were scheduled for their farewell interviews, they filmed Deng Chao's scene first, then Yan Li's.

This scene was the film's emotional climax, yet all three of Yan Li's cast remained calm.

One reason was confidence in their skill; another was that Yan Li had practiced privately countless times—though the trio had never rehearsed together, the two leads had run their scenes multiple times.

Fan Xiaopang had the most lines—not just dialogue, but also action sequences.

Then came Yan Li: first he bid farewell to Li Bing, then faced off against Fan Xiaopang.

In the plot, Fan Xiaopang's fox spirit's scheme had failed; Wang Fu's death finally shattered Wang Sheng's hesitation and cowardice—he now wanted the fox spirit to revive his wife.

The fox spirit knew she could never win Wang Sheng's heart again; love turned to hatred, her grief reached its peak, and she stared blankly at Yan Li.

"If you love her so much, why don't you die with her?"

Yan Li's eyes reddened, his voice calm: "If I die, will you bring her back?"

"..."

After a final confession, he delivered the core truth of his character—and the entire film.

"I love you. But I already have Peirong."

With that, he stabbed himself. Fan Xiaopang, interpreting these words as Yan Li abandoning her for another woman one day, stared numbly at his corpse, lost and bewildered, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.

Yan Li always believed Fan Xiaopang was the best performer among them in this film.

One reason was that Xiao Wei was a complex role with many high points, offering ample room for an actor with ability to shape the character.

Another was that Fan Xiaopang often deeply empathized with the role, immersed herself emotionally, and delivered a natural, precise performance.

When Yan Li died, the scene transitioned directly into the earlier fight sequence—aside from a few lines from Sun Li, it was almost entirely Fan Xiaopang's solo performance.

Fan Xiaopang carried it all flawlessly—explosive when needed, restrained when required; Yan Li nodded in approval, and Li Bing's expression turned solemn.

Back when they were at Huayi, Fan Xiaopang's acting was decent, but merely decent—she never thought it was particularly impressive.

But now, filming The Painted Skin together, she truly felt Fan Xiaopang's rapid improvement.

In many scenes, she matched Yan Li's level, and sometimes even overshadowed her—partly due to the role's advantages, but also because her raw talent deserved recognition.

Li Bing was baffled: Fan Xiaopang's career had surged these past two years, but how had her acting skyrocketed too?

"She finally woke up."

Yan Li's answer was simple: in acting, logic and reason often don't apply.

A pretty face turns into a serious actor; a veteran collapses under a newcomer's assault; self-taught performers outshine trained professionals.

Take this year's breakout hit, Soldiers Sortie.

That Wang Baoqiang—he's the ultimate self-taught type. All the other actors were seasoned pros, some with years of stage experience, yet he stole every scene.

Yan Li also firmly believed: fame nurtures talent, and fame elevates performance.

Acting is an art; human factors matter immensely. Technical skill is essential, but personal state and confidence matter more.

When an actor becomes famous, their confidence rises, their state improves—and as long as the role fits, every performance works.

This wasn't Yan Li making it up; there were plenty of examples in the industry.

Someone once mediocre suddenly exploded at their career peak, delivering one landmark role after another.

You could call it awakening—or fame enhancing performance, which in turn fuels more fame, creating a positive cycle: better acting leads to greater fame, which leads to even better acting.

Fan Xiaopang was exactly like that—she always had charm and talent, plenty of experience, and with her career surge over two years, her confidence and state improved, and the roles were perfectly suited to her strengths—of course she progressed rapidly.

Hearing Yan Li's explanation, Li Bing fell into thought.

She herself had improved quickly these past two years; she'd assumed it was due to age and experience, but now she saw it was also about mindset—and she'd even figured out why her longtime rival, Zhou Young Master, was so skilled.

"No wonder that Zhou woman's been winning awards nonstop these past two years?"

Yan Li paused: "I think her confidence helps, but mostly it's raw talent."

Li Bing: "..."

Can you even speak properly?!

Yan Li shrugged: among the Four Dan and Two Bing, the best performers and most decorated were Zhou and Zhang.

Zhang Ziyi excelled in overall ability—everything she did was polished; she was born for the big screen.

Zhou Young Master, by contrast, had far inferior physical conditions and wasn't classically trained—she made it this far purely on talent.

Compared to them, the Two Bing ranked only mid-tier.

Fan Xiaopang succeeded because of her face, and failed because of it too—her roles were limited, and people ignored her acting entirely.

Li Bing's physical and innate qualities were fairly "ordinary"; she made up for it entirely through hard work and experience.

Yan Li personally believed Xiao Yanzi's acting talent surpassed both of them, but she was distracted, allowing the Two Bing to overtake her.

As for Xu Cai'nv, she remained firmly at the bottom.

She'd acted in many films, yet had no standout roles or iconic scenes—so Yan Li's impression of her was simply 【Widow Face】, always looking as if she'd lost her husband.

"Good. Cut."

Director Chen Jia shouted, Fan Xiaopang got up, the others lay back down, and the cinematographer began shooting close-ups.

According to the plot, Fan Xiaopang would vanish, the others would revive, and there were also some special effects shots.

After completing these shots, the scene was finished—and The Painted Skin entered its final countdown to wrap.

Fan Xiaopang was officially wrapped; Yan Li and Li Bing, along with the rest, had only scattered scenes left—about two to three more days, then the entire crew would wrap.

"Finally over."

Fan Xiaopang exhaled deeply—The Painted Skin had weighed heavily on her.

Though billed as the Two Bing carrying the film, Li Bing was just here for the paycheck—success meant profit, failure meant exposure and guaranteed pay.

She was different: this project was tied to Yi'an—if it lost money, she, as boss, top star, and responsible party, would suffer serious backlash.

Even with Yan Li's protection, it didn't matter—companies speak in profits.

You're handed a billion-yuan blockbuster to carry, you can't hold it up, and next time you try to compete for a similar project, you'll face resistance.

In the adult world, it's not easy. Fan Xiaopang had Yan Li's backing and a high tolerance for error, but even that had limits.

So during The Painted Skin's filming, Fan Xiaopang took it seriously.

If the film lost money, it wasn't necessarily all her fault—but if she'd performed poorly, she couldn't dodge blame.

Now that filming was done, she felt she'd done well; her most critical work was over, and the rest would be handled by Yan Li and the others—she just needed to cooperate.

Watching Fan Xiaopang's relief, Li Bing also relaxed, and Yan Li smiled.

"We won't all make it to wrap day. A few days ago, for my birthday, I got two bottles of good wine—want some?"

Fan Xiaopang was entering the set of The Vermilion Snow today; Li Bing would leave immediately after filming.

Unless they happened to cross paths at some event, the three of them wouldn't reunite until next year's promotional tour.

Fan Xiaopang eyed him warily: "Your fox tail's showing—last day, up to something?"

Li Bing smirked: "Drink some wine, so you can strike easier?"

These past few weeks, Yan Li had been scheming to get the Two Bing together in bed—but both had seen through him or dodged him every time; today, their final day, they were already on guard.

"What do you think I am?"

Yan Li put on a wounded look: "This collaboration went smoothly overall. I'm truly grateful for your support and understanding. On our last day, let's eat, drink, show a little appreciation, and close things on a perfect note."

"Also, I want to talk to you both in detail about Weibo and that spy film—everyone's busy, rarely get together, so let's settle it while we're all here."

Yan Li swore to heaven—he genuinely wanted to discuss business. Sure, he had ulterior motives, but they weren't the main point.

After all, this didn't work out, but there's still promotion, and another film coming—there'll always be chances. No rush.

Fan Xiaopang and Li Bing exchanged glances. Yan Li's reasoning held up—but better safe than sorry.

"If we're gathering, why not invite Sun Li and the others? Let's make it a pre-wrap party."

Yan Li nodded: "Sure."

They called out, each went to remove makeup and change clothes, and soon nearly ten people—including Deng Chao—gathered for a table at the hotel.

Come on, try this—the Louis XIII Black Crystal Collection, known as the King of Cognac.

Yan Li pulled out a black crystal bottle of liquor and poured for everyone.

He didn't care much for red wine, but he liked spirits—too many varieties, too many flavors, more novel than red or baijiu.

So people, knowing his taste, went out of their way to find rare bottles for him to sample.

Deng Chao, the ultimate yes-man, stared at the elegant bottle: "This wine isn't cheap, is it?"

"Not expensive—under 100, 00 yuan."