Chapter 325: Financial Crisis Hits, Despicable Yan Li, Xuan Lan

Yan Li had dealt with paparazzi for years, but this time he truly took a beating.

Upon learning he'd made the Xiangjiang headline, Yan Li's first thought was that someone had set him up.

Very few knew about the yacht party; even Yan Li's own team only found out once they arrived. If someone leaked it, it had to be the Huang family or Kim.

The Huang family had no motive—this brought them no benefit—but Kim was suspicious, perhaps hoping to profit from stirring up publicity about the two of them.

Later, Yan Li thought it unlikely: if this were a deliberate scheme, the system would have warned him.

Besides, based on Kim's behavior, she wasn't that stupid.

Arranging paparazzi to snap photos and expose this would at most give Wen Yongshan and the others a bit of heat—some negative heat—but Yan Li would never admit to it, and he had plenty of rumors already; this wouldn't add much.

If the scandal blew up, Yan Li would definitely start thinking—and her hard-won connection would be severed.

Worse, if Yan Li traced it back to her—or even suspected her—he could face brutal retaliation from both Yan Li and Dongfang Films.

The yacht and itinerary were arranged by the Huang family; if Yan Li got into trouble, they were implicated too—they had to give him an explanation.

Kim's people were unlikely too: Kim was experienced and wouldn't have gone unprepared. On the yacht, nothing was seized, and no one could have leaked word.

So, it was probably just coincidence.

To be safe, Yan Li triggered the system at dawn to confirm—it wasn't a conspiracy after all.

This was a famous yacht port, occasionally hosting wealthy celebrities; paparazzi had long been stationed here.

Because the yachts were far out, their equipment was far from ordinary.

Yan Li knew this well—he'd only stepped out in his underwear for less than half a minute, yet the photos were crystal clear.

When the blog scandal broke, he'd once comforted himself: at least he hadn't shown his junk. Now, less than two months later, he'd been proven wrong.

Still, there was some coverage—he was more decent than Teacher Chen.

"Decent ***, %#$@#&%￠……"

Yan Li couldn't hold back—he cursed. Was there no other job in Xiangjiang? Paparazzi everywhere, snapping photos and slapping on ridiculous headlines.

For hours after the incident, Yan Li dared not go on Weibo—he was sure the mob of onlookers had nothing but vile comments.

Instead, the Weibo management called him to ask whether to suppress the trend.

Of course not—suppressing it would just hand the advantage to other platforms.

His face was already lost; the heat must not be lost!

Yan Li even had Ding Feng use his Weibo to issue a clarification, anchoring the heat firmly on Weibo.

The clarification was simple: a friend gathering, rented a yacht for a party, a healthy get-together—no rumors of models or anything strange.

As for the "giant cannon," fine—he'd admit it. To some extent, it wasn't even shameful.

Immediately after Yan Li's clarification, Little Huang also came out: he'd invited Yan Li to a friend's birthday party; Wen Yongshan and others were just friends of friends, all there to eat, drink, and sing.

Had he not feared inflaming things further and been unsure of Yan Li's stance, Little Huang might have even claimed Wen Yongshan as his girlfriend.

Either way, he had to distance Yan Li from this, reduce the negative fallout, and avoid Yan Li developing ill will toward him.

Not just Little Huang—Wen Yongshan and Baby also explained through media, sticking to the same story.

Though the stories aligned, few believed them.

Come on—it was Yan Li. Believing him was less plausible than believing Teacher Chen's photos were all photoshopped.

Yan Li never expected to fully clear his name—what mattered was having an official explanation, or else the media and netizens would fabricate whatever they wanted.

On the other hand, Yan Li used his connections to bribe and warn some Xiangjiang media: stop this nonsense, end it here.

The mainland was just enthusiastic crowds; Xiangjiang had real triads.

On the mainland, though they didn't suppress the heat, they avoided sensitive terms like "party," focusing instead on mocking Yan Li himself.

That said, while mockery dominated, there were still some positive voices.

Men envied Yan Li's ample endowment and abundant romantic luck; women lusted after his physique and equipment.

Yan Li in his underwear wasn't just close-ups of his private parts—he had broad shoulders, a muscular torso, a narrow waist, long legs, clear muscle definition, and with his equipment, it was a real, undeniable plus.

Especially some seasoned old hens—when they got going, their speed was phenomenal; even Yan Li blushed looking at them.

It even sparked a new question: many wondered, back when Yan Li wasn't famous yet, how he'd managed to land beauties like Dong Xuan, Huang Shengyi, and Qin Lan.

Back then, everyone said he was handsome, sweet-talking, good at flattery—but now, everyone had overlooked one crucial reason.

Since the blog scandal, Qin Lan had kept a low profile; her comment section had been closed since then and never reopened. Dong Xuan claimed she was busy with work and hid at school.

Li Bing and Wang Ou were both on the set of "The Message," avoiding the spotlight; others weren't visible—no one could ask them about it.

Huang Shengyi, the "ex-girlfriend," suffered the most: caught at an event, reporters cornered her, grilled her relentlessly—how did she view this? What was her impression of Yan Li's… abilities?

Unprepared and faced with such explosive questions, Huang Shengyi stammered and desperately changed the subject. The reporters weren't easy to shake—they quickly published an article.

"Huang Shengyi Blushes When Mentioning Yan Li, Stammers About the 'Giant Cannon'"

…

Amid the chaos outside, once he realized there was no particularly negative impact, he relaxed.

This incident could be big or small; given Yan Li's image, there was no "fall from grace"—just some playful teasing in the future.

The tricky part was Qin Lan had come to Xiangjiang herself, ostensibly to take care of him—everyone knew what that really meant.

Yan Li occasionally strayed, and his women turned a blind eye—but once exposed, it was another matter entirely.

Qin Lan came alone, but behind her stood Dong Xuan and Fan Xiaopang's support, even shadows of Old Yan and Zhang Hong.

The old couple felt their son had gone too far—yachts, models, all those messy rumors online sounded improper. They could ignore other things, but if their son was going down a bad path, they couldn't stand by.

Yan Li was helpless—he couldn't explain it away.

Besides, he was busy now and had no time to deal with this. Qin Lan's arrival wasn't bad—having someone around eased his stress.

But Wen Yongshan and Baby were stuck.

They'd finally hooked onto Yan Li, expecting to go further—then he went silent.

At first, they thought it was because of the paparazzi exposure—he was lying low, understandable. Later, they learned someone had come from the mainland.

Baby even considered going to Yan Li's door, but Kim stopped her: at least there's still a chance—showing up would be a taboo, and it'd be over for sure.

Wait a while. If nothing happens, wait until the heat dies down, then head north to the mainland.

Kim listened to Wen Yongshan and Baby's account and judged Yan Li still had some interest in them—at least short-term fun was possible. As long as he didn't forget them, there'd be a way to reconnect.

Besides, though they couldn't reach Yan Li for now, the incident still benefited Baby and Wen Yongshan: their fame and exposure surged, and their appearance fees rose significantly.

Kim helped arrange work, planning to boost them up, make some money, build bigger fame, and strengthen their position when facing Yan Li again.

Worst case—if Yan Li ignored them—their increased fame and value could open other opportunities.

Kim was full of ambition, preparing her plans—when this accident shattered them.

The financial crisis hit!

Xiangjiang was a famed financial city, once called Asia's financial center—here, even old men on the street spoke knowledgeably about stocks, and housewives and stall owners might have brokerage accounts.

When the financial crisis struck, Xiangjiang was thrown into chaos—people were jumping off rooftops, imitating "Infernal Affairs."

Yan Li's gossip was ignored—Xiangjiang's mainstream media were all flooded with financial crisis coverage.

Even entertainment media reported only on celebrities ruined by stock trading or investments; paparazzi didn't snap photos—they approached stars and asked: "Did you trade stocks? How much did you lose?"

According to incomplete statistics, Li Jiaxin, who'd recently married into wealth, lost possibly over a hundred million from her obsession—luckily she had a husband to cover it, or she'd have to return to acting.

Worse off were Zhang Tianwang and Liu Nai Cha: rumors said most of their wealth was invested in Lehman Brothers—they were instantly back to square one.

Plus, countless Hong Kong and Taiwan stars were swept up; media interviews and headlines were all gloom and despair.

If the early-year X-photo scandal was a quake in the Hong Kong circle, this financial crisis was the true collapse of heaven and earth.

Hong Kong and Taiwan stars suffered—but many mainland stars were hit too.

After all, the past two years had been the peak of China's A-share market; many celebrities who'd made money rushed into the stock market—and each got crushed.

For example, Feng Kuzi—he'd always liked stocks, was clumsy and stubborn; rumors said he lost over 90%.

Host Xie Na revealed on Weibo that she'd lost big on stocks this year, prompting Huang Sanshi to joke: "Bear market should be renamed 'Na Market.'"

Tong Dawei told interviewers he'd lost some too, saying it was equivalent to filming two movies for free.

Still, he felt lucky—he'd listened to Yan Li's advice, pulled out some funds, then called Yan Li again for advice and quickly got out—otherwise, he might've lost his kid's milk money.

Tong Dawei's words drew attention to Yan Li—the so-called "stock god" of the entertainment circle, who'd made a fortune during the A-share bull market.

Now? Had he crashed?

Since his debut, Yan Li had sailed smoothly, making huge profits; many resented him and wanted to see him fall hard, gloating over his downfall.

Yet Yan Li never responded. From the yacht incident until the financial crisis hit, he remained hidden, silent.

Gradually, rumors surfaced: insiders claimed Yan Li had lost big in the crisis, owed massive debts, Yi'an and Weibo were nearly bankrupt, and the so-called 80s business leader was finished.

These rumors were clearly spread by rivals—to damage Yan Li's image and reputation, and destabilize his company.

Yan Li had planned to strike back immediately, stabilize morale—but suddenly noticed unrest inside Yi'an. He paused, held his ground.

Weibo and Yi'an didn't need his attention—cash was on the books, projects kept running, internal reassurance was enough to prevent trouble.

The key was Yi'an Cinemas: during his second round of financing, he'd mortgaged heavily to banks to build theaters—now the books showed no cash, funds couldn't be touched, and there were external debts.

With the financial crisis, shareholders were suffering; hearing Yan Li was in trouble, they worried about Yi'an's future—internal noise grew loud.

Under these conditions, Yan Li contacted shareholders, insisting his finances were fine, even thriving.

Yet he never responded to outside rumors, never showed his face.

This contradictory stance made some shareholders more anxious—they even suspected he'd fled abroad.

"Brother Mang, you've got to believe me—I'm making money now, the company won't collapse. In a while, I'll bring back a huge sum; maybe I'll even buy other cinema chains…"

Yan Li hung up, sipped coffee, thought of the other side's insincere tone, and shook his head.

From start to finish, he'd told the truth: he had money, and would have more; he couldn't return to Beijing for now; don't believe the rumors.

But these people didn't believe him—they followed the rumors, dead-set convinced he was bankrupt and had fled.

He was a business genius with a halo—how could they trust him so little?

But then again, it wasn't that they didn't believe in Yan Li—key figures who had sunk in the financial crisis were too numerous, and some were having a hard time, afraid of losses and setbacks, their concern clouding judgment, leaving them unable to gamble anymore.

Yan Li felt that if he pushed a little longer, someone would finally release their shares, and he would just grit his teeth and take them.