Chapter 331: Wang Ou Combo or the Little Dragon Sisters? Weibo Night

“Where is my son Fengxian? Where is my son Fengxian?”

Outside the Han palace, Dong Zhuo, portrayed by Lü Xiaohé, slashed at the soldiers surrounding him with his sword, screaming in terror.

At that moment, hooves thundered along the palace avenue, a horse neighed, and the magnificent Chi Tu galloped forth—Lü Bu, portrayed by Yan Li, rode in expressionless, spear in hand.

“Fengxian, Fengxian, save me!”

Seeing the arrival, Dong Zhuo was overjoyed, summoned all his strength, broke through the encirclement under the protection of his few remaining guards, and rushed toward Lü Bu.

Yet his joy instantly turned to horror—Lü Bu did not charge at the soldiers surrounding him, nor did he help Dong Zhuo onto his horse; instead, he raised his halberd and brought it down upon Dong Zhuo’s head.

Plosch~

Blood splattered the ground; Dong Zhuo’s fat body crashed down. Lü Bu reined in his horse, swung his halberd with force, stood tall, and glared fiercely at Dong Zhuo’s remaining followers, roaring:

“I act by the Son of Heaven’s decree to punish the traitor! Dong Zhuo is executed! Lay down your weapons immediately and you shall be pardoned; otherwise, do not blame me for my halberd’s mercilessness!”

Fearing Lü Bu’s might and seeing Dong Zhuo dead, none dared resist; all knelt and begged for surrender.

Lü Bu sneered with pride, exchanged a glance with Wang Yun—everything was now in their grasp.

“Good, cut!”

Director Zhang Yongxin called out; Yan Li dismounted, helped Lü Xiaohé up, and led the applause.

“Congratulations, Master Lü, wrapping up!”

Lü Xiaohé, the actor who played Company Commander Liang in “Flowers on the Mountain,” had grown older in recent years and gained weight, but his rugged features suited perfectly the role of Dong Zhuo, the crude, martial old Grand Tutor.

His scenes were few; today was his last, and after this, he was done.

Oh, there was one more scene—dissecting Dong Zhuo’s corpse—but that required props; no need for Lü to perform it himself.

Lü Xiaohé stood in the center, face smeared with blood, smiling as he posed for a photo with Yan Li and Du Yulu, who portrayed Wang Yun.

The latter was Zhang Tingyu from “The Emperor in Han Dynasty”—perfectly suited to play Wang Yun, the cunning, seasoned minister.

After taking a normal group photo, Yan Li called Du Yulu over and both gave Lü Xiaohé a thumbs-up; Lü’s face remained expressionless, while the two others beamed.

Since all three were still in costume, it resembled a triumphant declaration by Lü Bu and Wang Yun—darkly humorous.

This was Yan Li’s deliberate move, capturing behind-the-scenes moments and memes.

“The New Three Kingdoms” had long promoted the production on Weibo, even held dedicated casting events; its official account had a substantial fanbase.

After filming began, the crew never shut down the account.

In fact, Yi An’s publicity team for “The New Three Kingdoms” assigned several staff members specifically to film behind-the-scenes footage—including documentary-style interviews and memorabilia—for later use as promotional material, with photos frequently posted to update Weibo and maintain buzz.

Many major productions do this; previously, “My Commander My Regiment” even released a behind-the-scenes photo book.

Initially, “The New Three Kingdoms” behind-the-scenes content mostly consisted of character makeup shots or daily set life—standard practice.

One day, someone filmed a break scene: Liu Bei and his two brothers, along with Cao Cao and several of his strategists, squatted by the gate smoking.

That Weibo post went viral, hit trending, and sparked endless online memes and jokes.

From then on, “The New Three Kingdoms” official account had found its traffic secret.

Like Xu You holding a camera to take group photos during the Eighteen Warlords’ alliance, Cao Cao and his strategists using notebooks to study maps during meetings, Guan Yu riding a motorcycle through Five Passes and Slashing Six Generals, the weapons used in the Three Heroes Battle Lü Bu being borrowed from a neighboring anti-Japanese drama set—Type 38 rifles, Mauser pistols, and Czech vz. 24s…

Some of these memes were posted to maintain buzz; others were saved to promote alongside relevant plot episodes.

For example, today’s photo of Lü Bu and Wang Yun posing with the dead Dong Zhuo could be released after the episode airs, via the actors’ or official Weibo accounts, to boost attention and discussion.

Similar tactics: after the Battle of Guandu, smiling Cao Cao posing with the lifeless Yuan Shao; after the Battle of Chibi, Zhuge Liang and Zhou Yu posing with Cao Cao; after the Battle of Hefei, Zhang Liao posing with Sun Quan; after the Battle of Yiling, Lu Xun posing with Liu Bei.

Thus, “The New Three Kingdoms” gained buzz, Weibo gained entertainment, and the actors gained exposure—all benefits at once.

No need to worry about audience immersion breaking; many productions now openly post behind-the-scenes clips at the end credits.

Drama is drama, reality is reality; the plot within the story and the entertainment outside are two separate things. Yan Li also specifically instructed: memes should be moderate, no excessive mockery or vilification.

So, there would be no photos or images of Zhao Yun spearing A Dou, Guan Yu gazing lovingly at Lady Gan, or Zhuge Liang begging Sima Yi for mercy.

…

In the morning, Yan Li killed Dong Zhuo; in the afternoon, he killed Ding Yuan—two “fathers” slain in one day, the little patricide expert.

Ding Yuan’s actor was none other than Zhang Guangbei, who portrayed Lü Bu in the CCTV version of “Romance of the Three Kingdoms.”

He was currently filming in Hengdian, so he readily agreed to make a cameo.

He had previously appeared briefly in the scenes where Dong Zhuo and Ding Yuan turned against each other; now he came specifically to complete the remaining scenes where Lü Bu kills him.

To honor Zhang Guangbei’s cameo, the scene of Lü Bu killing Ding Yuan was nearly identical in plot and dialogue to the CCTV version of “Romance of the Three Kingdoms,” with only added close-ups of Ding Yuan.

“My son, what is it?”

“I am a true man—how could I be your adopted son?”

“Fengxian, why have you changed your heart?”

“Hmph.”

“Ahh~”

In other words, Zhang Guangbei had once killed Ding Yuan as Lü Bu; now Yan Li killed him as Lü Bu.

After filming this scene, Zhang Guangbei was deeply moved.

“When I played Lü Bu and killed my adoptive father, I felt nothing. But playing Ding Yuan, killed by my adoptive son—it was truly frustrating.”

The crew arranged an interview; Zhang Guangbei graciously praised “The New Three Kingdoms” and Yan Li.

He said the production had greater investment, many aspects superior to their time, and Yan Li’s Lü Bu was especially outstanding—he was glad Yan Li was born later, otherwise the CCTV version’s Lü Bu might have needed recasting.

Yan Li lowered his posture further, humbly stating he had watched Zhang’s Lü Bu since childhood, and had studied and learned from some of Zhang’s performances; Zhang’s approval meant great honor to him, and so on.

In short, mutual commercial flattery—everyone lifts the sedan chair together.

This was also their second collaboration; both had high visibility in the hit “Liang Jian,” and this reunion of old and new Lü Bus was a celebrated moment.

But in reality, their characters had no scenes together in “Liang Jian,” and they had barely met off-camera.

Netizens and audiences always try to apply drama plots to actors’ real lives—it’s simply not the same.

Yan Li’s character, Sun Desheng, didn’t even know Chu Yunfei well, let alone Li Yunlong.

He was on the “Liang Jian” set for only a short time; audiences forcing the bond between two characters into a life-or-death friendship was extremely forced.

Worse still, people even mixed up entirely different dramas.

Some netizens dug up a clip from “Heroes of Sui and Tang” where Yuwen Chengdu lined up with Li Rongrong, then applied it to Sun Desheng and Tian Yu from “Liang Jian,” accusing Sun Desheng of being unprincipled, mistreating his sister-in-law, and betraying Li Yunlong.

Yan Li was speechless—in “Liang Jian,” the two characters never met; Tian Yu appeared years after Sun Desheng’s death.

Better to apply real life: at least Tong Lei was Zhou Yiwei’s girlfriend, so Yan Li could genuinely say “I’m sorry” to his good friend.

…

Having killed two “fathers” in one day, Yan Li felt refreshed; coinciding with Fan Xiaopan’s wrap, he went to visit Yang Rong on the set of “Locked in Autumn.”

Said to be a visit, but Yan Li never went to the set; instead, Yang Rong arranged to sneak away to meet him.

Yan Li waited in the chauffeur-driven car, then saw Yang Rong, bundled like a ball, “roll” into the vehicle.

“….”

Yan Li was speechless—even for a secret rendezvous, she didn’t need to be this covered up.

Well, only her eyes were visible; someone might believe the lights were off.

“Didn’t you see Weibo trending? Huang Weide and Yi Nengjing were caught holding hands—it blew up. Yi Nengjing is now in Hengdian, staying at the same hotel as our crew; a swarm of paparazzi are watching. I don’t want to get dragged in.”

Yang Rong pulled down her mask, still shaken.

For some reason this year, the entertainment circle had scandal after scandal—it was incredibly lively.

Hengdian was a paparazzi hotspot, Yan Li was a public figure, and she didn’t want to end up trending like Qin Lan after the blog scandal.

“That Hong Kong incident was an accident; on the mainland, I can still hold my ground. Besides, we’ve had rumors before.”

Yan Li pulled Yang Rong close, wrapped his arms around her, helped her take off her coat, and warmed his hands in the process.

Yang Rong glared at him, glanced at the driver’s seat—Wu Maowen wore headphones, focused entirely on driving.

She didn’t stop his mischievous hands, subtly pulled her coat to cover herself, then said:

“Rumors are rumors; many have rumors, but being photographed is a different matter.”

Seeing Yan Li still unconcerned, she leaned in and kissed him softly: “I don’t mean anything else—I just want a quiet, peaceful life, no gossip, no meddling in your circle. Can’t we just be quiet together?”

Yang Rong wasn’t like Qin Lan; after the blog scandal, Qin Lan was troubled but secretly pleased—at least she was finally out in the open.

But some want to be out in the open, and some don’t.

Like Jiang Xin, she resented her position, couldn’t compete, so kept a backdoor open—staying hidden gave her a face-saving excuse.

Yang Rong once thought the same; now, such thoughts were far fewer.

More importantly, it was her nature—thin-skinned, afraid of controversy, relatively low ambition and material desire, unwilling to fight with Fan, Qin, Dong, and others, and also wary of her family’s opinion, fearing she couldn’t explain.

So she continued her ostrich mentality—quietly staying with Yan Li, day by day, deal with the future later.

Yan Li had no objection; her thinking benefited him more than harmed him, though he feigned reluctance.

“This hiding and sneaking around is so uncomfortable. Don’t worry about me getting scolded—I’m not afraid.”

“I am.”

Yang Rong clasped her hands together: “Please, I really don’t want to be tabloid headline news. Just act, travel, you spend time with me—that’s all I want.”

“…Fine.”

Yan Li teased a bit, then agreed—but immediately proposed a compensation condition.

Yang Rong realized he was taking advantage, but refusing would only make him find another way; after hesitation, she nodded, accepting the deal.

“But what about Wang Ou? Doesn’t she mind?”

Wang Ou had formed a faction, not to compete with Fan, Qin, Dong, but at least to protect herself; Yang Rong clearly wanted to hide—wasn’t she betraying Wang Ou?

“I’m selling her out.”

Yang Rong gritted her teeth: “She dragged me into this and kept scheming to trap me. I’m being generous not setting a trap for her.”

Though she spoke harshly, she immediately grew timid: “Don’t you tell Wang Ou this.”

“See how you perform.”

Yan Li said nothing; others were hard to judge, but Yang Rong was thoroughly dominated by Wang Ou.

She wanted a peaceful life—Wang Ou might not pressure her—but given their closeness, if Wang Ou truly got into trouble, Yang Rong could never stand idly by.

All that talk about selling or not selling? Just everyday bluster.

…

With so many people and eyes around Hengdian, Yan Li simply took Yang Rong to his house in Dongyang.

Whether it was telepathy or just constant phone calls, barely had they stepped inside when Wang Ou called Yang Rong’s phone.

Yang Rong didn’t want to answer—otherwise it would turn into another live phone broadcast—so she sent a text saying she was filming, planning to brush it off.

But Wang Ou called even more insistently, back-to-back. Yan Li, quick-witted, saw the pattern and declared outright.

“You’ve been exposed. If you don’t answer her, she’ll call me.”

Yang Rong reluctantly answered—and was immediately bombarded by Wang Ou’s tirade.

Wang Ou had assumed Yang Rong was filming, so she first called Yang Rong’s assistant to ask if shooting was done or how much time remained. But she sensed something off, and immediately called Yang Rong instead. Yang Rong, unaware of the backstory, gave herself away with a classic “I didn’t do it!” move.

“Big Naiwa, hoarding treats is bad enough—but sneaking eats? What about sisterly loyalty?”

Caught red-handed, Yang Rong gave up pretending: “So what if I ate it? You’ll die of envy if you don’t get any.”

They’d done this phone trio live so many times—even though they’d never met in person—that Wang Ou had privately imagined and teased them about it countless times.

Even though Yang Rong was usually shy, Wang Ou had raised her threshold so high on this front that she no longer easily blushed or felt embarrassed.

“Tsk tsk, don’t get cocky—I’m calling today to tell you: I’m coming to Hengdian to visit in a couple days. You’re the lead this time, and the crew won’t grant you a long break. See how you run now.”

Yan Li, who’d been listening on speaker the whole time, perked up.

“Only my little Ouo could do this!”

Yang Rong rolled her eyes, then sighed at Wang Ou: “You’re determined to drag me into this, aren’t you?”

Wang Ou replied without shame: “Good sisters share blessings and endure hardships together.”

“If you’re not afraid of dying, then come.”

Yang Rong tried to scare her—but Wang Ou wasn’t fazed. In fact, she was already boasting about using Dragon Claw to crush her.

Helpless, Yang Rong turned to Yan Li: “She’s bullying me—aren’t you going to do anything?”

Yan Li spoke solemnly: “Of course I will. When she arrives, I’ll properly punish her right in front of you.”

Yang Rong: “...”

These two scoundrels were determined to drag her down with them!

Fuming, Yang Rong hung up and tried to make a breakthrough with Yan Li.

Wang Ou, that little flirt, would do anything to please Yan Li. He was at least a bit stronger than her—maybe if she pouted a little, he’d soften a bit.

“Do you really want it that badly?”

Yan Li nodded firmly: “Yes.”

“What’s the point? Fine, I’ll just…”

Yang Rong offered a deal—but Yan Li shook his head. Though the offer was tempting, it couldn’t match the allure of the “Ou-Rong” duo.

“Ou-Rong” sounded a bit awkward. Maybe a nickname? Like “Chicken Daughters”? Hmm—better stick with “Ou-Rong.”

Even as he refused, Yan Li spoke solemnly: “I’m doing this for your own good—so you’re not exhausted alone. Let her help share the load.”

Yang Rong wanted to refute this nonsense—but she had to admit, Yan Li’s reasoning was actually sound.

This was why many women half-resisted but ultimately accepted Yan Li’s occasional excesses—no one could truly hold out against him alone.

In truth, after struggling so long, if not for luck, she’d already been dragged down by Wang Ou. So Yang Rong had long been mentally prepared—she just still felt a little embarrassed.

She couldn’t argue her way out, and she couldn’t run away. Fine—let it go wherever it goes…

…

Wang Ou arrived quickly—she’d actually squeezed this time out of a packed schedule.

Her lead role in the film “Ip Man” was about to premiere, and she’d slipped over during a break in the promotional tour.

There was no choice: Yang Rong was tied up with “Suo Qingqiu,” but Yan Li’s role in “Three Kingdoms” was shrinking. By the time Wang Ou finished her “Ip Man” tour, Yan Li might have already wrapped and left the set—leaving Yang Rong another chance to escape.

Upon arriving in Hengdian, Wang Ou first went to visit Yan Li on the “Three Kingdoms” set.

She actually had a role in the drama too—involved in the plotlines of Sima Yi and the Cao Wei court’s power struggles, roughly equal in screen time to Fan Xiaopang’s Diaochan.

“Three Kingdoms” was thoroughly a man’s drama—female roles were few and had little screen time.

The same went for the later “Water Margin”—even Pan Jinlian, who appeared more often, could compete for the female lead.

“Three Kingdoms” was planned to shoot over eight months; Wang Ou’s scenes were scheduled later—likely around Chinese New Year, still over a month away from her actual start date.

Still, this was her second visit to the “Three Kingdoms” set; when production first began, she’d come to Hengdian just to tour.

Wang Ou had planned to surprise Yan Li—but he only had half a day’s shoot today, and after filming, he’d gone to work at Yi’an Garden. She had to change course.

As soon as she entered Yi’an Garden, before even looking for Yan Li, she saw Yang Mi and a girl walking arm-in-arm, laughing and chatting as they came out of the rehearsal hall.

Spotting Wang Ou, Yang Mi stopped, forced a smile, and greeted: “Sister Ou, you’re here.”

She nudged the girl beside her, who also spoke up: “Sister Ou.”

“Hmm.”

Wang Ou replied indifferently; whether it was due to inherent incompatibility or resentment over Yang Mi’s backing from Dong Qin—potentially threatening her own status—she simply could not stand Yang Mi.

Yang Mi was young and fiery, and she had her own support. She couldn’t challenge Fan Xiaopang, but she wasn’t intimidated by Wang Ou either.

She’d initially tried to maintain friendliness, but seeing Wang Ou’s cold attitude, she stopped bothering—just kept up the bare minimum of politeness.

This only made Wang Ou dislike Yang Mi even more.