Chapter 340: Three Factions in Chaos Become Two Against One

China Film, conference room

Uncle Han personally presided over the mobilization meeting for "The Founding of a Nation."

In addition to Chinese film personnel, the heads of joint production companies including Yi’an Yanli, BoNa Fatty, Yinghuang, Media Asia, Hualu, Xinbaoyuan, and others were all present.

“The plan is this: Huang Jianxin and I serve as co-chief directors—he handles filming, I oversee the whole project.”

“Additionally, due to different locations and scattered schedules, when Guoli, Xiaogang, Bao Gang, and Kai Ge participate in shooting, they’ll also handle some scenes and segments—this is a tribute film, so everyone contributes their strength.”

“...”

Uncle Han was in high spirits; after "The Founding of a Nation" was approved, it progressed even more smoothly than he’d imagined, with stars from all corners rushing to join without pay.

As the project’s primary leader, Uncle Han stole the spotlight; rumors spread that he had gathered half the entertainment industry with nothing but text messages, his fame towering.

Yanli listened while flipping through materials on "The Founding of a Nation."

Due to time and budget constraints, "The Founding of a Nation" didn’t shoot any war scenes; instead, it focused on the leaders of both sides and preparations for the founding of the nation.

To be honest, the plot had few highlights.

But that was understandable—the subject was sensitive, and as a tribute film, creative constraints were inevitable.

Moreover, the three years of the Liberation War involved too many events and figures; even a fifty-episode TV series couldn’t cover everything, so the film could only offer a cursory, whirlwind overview.

As for whether certain democratic figures had too much screen time, that tied into the current climate—those who understand, understand.

But...

Yanli glanced at the actor invitation list and marked several names with a checkmark; after the meeting, he informed Uncle Han.

“Since this is a tribute film, won’t casting these foreign nationals spark public controversy?”

Over the past two years, Gong Li emigrated, and now rumors swirl that Li Lianjie plans to change his nationality—public debate has been fierce.

Yanli didn’t mean to blacklist these foreign artists; he merely felt that "The Founding of a Nation," as a tribute film, needed careful handling in every aspect.

They could be used, but cautiously—lest they become a target for criticism and cause disproportionate damage.

After hearing this, Uncle Han’s expression turned serious; Yanli had already taught him a lesson with "The Assembly," and he’d become far more attentive to such matters.

"The Founding of a Nation" was politically sensitive—it didn’t need to shine, but it absolutely couldn’t fail.

Uncle Han paced a few steps: “What’s your suggestion?”

Yanli paused, then said: “We can’t cast anyone as the heroic figures from our Party or history books, but villains and neutral characters—I think it’s fine.”

“Then let’s proceed that way—I’ll adjust the roles.”

Uncle Han considered it and thought the plan was sound; if criticism arose later, they could use it to clarify.

“By the way, Uncle Han, pick a role like that for me too.”

Uncle Han frowned: “What do you mean?”

Yanli chuckled: “My reputation? I’d rather not sully our ancestors. Besides, I’m no big star—just a cameo will do.”

“Nonsense.”

Uncle Han clapped Yanli on the shoulder and laughed: “Others may not know, but I know you—your playboy ways are just personal flaws; your core integrity remains intact. Among your generation, you’re one of the few with true moral standing.”

They chatted and laughed; for "The Founding of a Nation," China Film was undoubtedly the producer, while Yi’an ranked first among the co-producers.

Previously, for China Film’s major films, Yi’an had only handled distribution, not investment or production.

This time, Yi’an broke precedent—and was the most active and contributive among all companies; Uncle Han was pleased.

Yi’an was excellent in every way, but previously it had been too cautious.

Now, with consecutive investments in "Painted Skin," "The Wind That Shakes the Barley," "The Founding of a Nation," and "October 1," it had begun to show the aura of an industry giant—and that benefited the entire sector.

“Xiao Yan, Changhong in Taiwan wants to make a big film—any thoughts?”

“I heard.”

Yanli nodded; he hadn’t just heard—he’d already dealt with them.

Changhong was a Taiwan-based film company, owned by the well-known underworld boss Wu Dun.

Last year’s successful New Year film "Kung Fu Dunk" was produced by this company.

Encouraged by "Kung Fu Dunk’s" success, Wu Dun secured Zhou Jielun’s contract and, with the rising fame of Lin Zhiling after "Red Cliff," planned a big project: the new film "Crying Freeman," with an estimated budget of 100 million RMB.

As mentioned earlier, Yi’an was the mainland distributor for "Kung Fu Dunk," and their cooperation had been smooth.

This time, for "Crying Freeman," Changhong first approached China Film, then Yi’an.

But after reviewing the project, Yanli had little faith in it.

The script was one issue; he also felt Changhong had vastly overestimated Zhou Jielun’s box-office draw.

"The Golden Chicken" succeeded because of Old Mouzi , then Faye Wong and Gong Li—Zhou’s role ranked below them.

"Kung Fu Dunk" and "Initial D" were both successful commercial films, but their themes were highly appealing.

Racing and basketball appealed strongly to youth, maximizing Zhou’s popularity.

Moreover, Zhou’s character in these films was nearly tailor-made: a quiet, ordinary prodigy mixed with a Rexuenixi trope—almost a self-portrait. He played it well, and audiences bought it.

"Initial D" itself had excellent production and a strong cast; its box-office success was entirely expected.

As distributor of "Kung Fu Dunk," Yi’an understood its success even better.

Zhou Jielun was undoubtedly the main contributor, but other factors couldn’t be ignored.

First, Yao Ming was still active in the NBA, making basketball extremely popular—natural market momentum.

Second, it blended kung fu and comedy, essentially a basketball version of "Shaolin Soccer," with comedic stars like Zeng Zhiwei, Wang Gang, Huang Bao, and Wu Mengda supporting the cast—truly a constellation of stars.

At least among casual viewers, many went to the theater for these supporting actors—or preferred their roles and plots.

Third, director Zhu Yanping was a skilled tailor; "Kung Fu Dunk" borrowed heavily from countless sources—it was a chaotic mix, but stitched together decently.

Under these conditions, Yanli believed Zhou Jielun lacked the strength to carry a major film alone; "Kung Fu Dunk" had significant luck involved.

"Crying Freeman’s" plot and cast were riddled with flaws—playing a bad hand recklessly; without any system, Yanli wouldn’t touch such a project based on experience alone.

He even suspected whether "Crying Freeman" was meant to make money—or to help Wu Dun launder funds.

Over the past two years, mainland box-office revenues had kept rising, making many operations easier.

As Yanli knew, many shady figures had entered the industry; thus, he now placed greater emphasis on partners’ backgrounds. Wu Dun’s type wasn’t outright uncooperative, but required far more caution than ordinary companies.

Given his current relationship with Uncle Han, Yanli could speak plainly without formalities: he didn’t believe in the project.

Uncle Han said nothing; film projects always varied by taste, and Yanli was famously high-standard—he’d grown accustomed to Yanli’s caution and pickiness.

“Not investing is fine. Help me out more on 'The Founding of a Nation.' By the way, Jiang Wen will probably be there too—he recently asked me to reach out to you.”

“Ask me? Why go through you?”

Yanli didn’t claim to be close to Jiang Wen, but their relationship was decent—sharing meals or meeting up didn’t require Uncle Han to act as intermediary.

“He’s preparing a new film.”

Uncle Han spoke briefly; Yanli understood: “So Jiang Wen actually has moments of embarrassment? That’s not his style.”

Last time, "The Sun Also Rises" lost a lot of money; Jiang Wen now wanted Yi’an to invest in his new film, probably feeling awkward, so he asked Uncle Han to make the introduction.

“Don’t say he’s embarrassed—I’m a bit embarrassed too.”

Uncle Han waved his hand; in truth, Yanli hadn’t lost much money on "The Sun Also Rises," but he’d sacrificed his “reputation” and “favor.”

Originally, Yanli had rallied Hua Yi, BoNa, and Yinghuang—he’d broken the myth that investing in film always guaranteed profit.

Yanli understood the situation clearly; as the principals, Uncle Han and Jiang Wen couldn’t take it for granted.

“I’ve read the script this time—it’s truly excellent. Personally, I think it’ll make money. Jiang Wen himself is confident. I’m just delivering the message—don’t invest because of me. If you want to, invest; if not, no one can blame you.”

Uncle Han clarified emphatically, distancing himself—he personally believed in Jiang Wen, and China Film was also investing in this new film.

Finally!

Yanli had gone through so much trouble helping with "The Sun Also Rises"—all for "Let’s Bullet Fly."

Now Yi’an had Ning Hao, but a massive hit was rare and unpredictable.

"Let’s Bullet Fly" had outstanding reviews and box office; aside from Jiang Wen stealing some spotlight, everything else was top-tier—perfect for Yi’an’s listing strategy.

Since "The Sun Also Rises" had badly damaged BoNa and Hua Yi, Yanli guessed the other companies would likely avoid investing.

If Yanli invested in "Let’s Bullet Fly" now and it succeeded, combined with his past experience, it would become a legendary tale in the industry.

It would be excellent publicity for Yanli, for the company, and for the project itself.

After chatting a while, Uncle Han walked Yanli to the parking lot: “Tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve—I won’t keep you longer. Go home.”

“Happy New Year, Uncle Han. Leave a door open for me on the third—I’ll come to pay my respects.”

“Haha, I’ve already prepared the wine. Go on.”

Yanli called out, then drove to Yangjiao Deng Hutong; when he arrived, his younger cousin Yan Xin was pasting Spring Festival couplets under Old Yan’s direction.

“You’re pasting them now? Tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve.”

“Xin’s returning to his hometown tonight. Let’s get it done while he’s here—save you the trouble tomorrow.”

Yanli had vacation on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day; the family had been busy and wanted him to rest—trying to spare him chores.

Yanli nodded, reading the couplet: “Harmony in the home brings a hundred blessings; peace and safety are worth a thousand gold. Good words—and beautiful calligraphy.”

Old Yan adjusted his belly and pointed to a nearby courtyard.

“That family has a retired professor from Zhongshi Normal University—excellent brushwork. Your mother went to ask him personally.”

Hearing this, Yanli told Wu Maowen, who was carrying things, to set down a gift box of tonic, then called to Yan Xin.

“Take this over later and express our thanks.”

“Brother, Second Aunt sent over some gifts.”

“That’s not enough.”

Yanli knew his mother Zhang Hong too well; though the Yan family was now wealthy, his parents still clung to old habits.

To them, calligraphy was a skill—but not valuable; getting a couplet meant they’d likely send some sunflower seeds, candy, or fried snacks.

The family isn’t short on tonic supplements; cultured people value face—fulfill all the rites, so the neighbors can get along well.

Yan Xin put up the Spring Festival couplets, then dashed off on an errand; Yan Li asked Wu Maowen to help unload the trunk’s contents, and when only a few items remained, he called out to stop him.

“That’s enough—take the rest for yourself. Don’t show up at your future father-in-law’s house looking poor. I don’t need you worrying about me—Tiger and the others take turns on duty; go about your business.”

Old Yan chuckled and patted Wu Maowen on the shoulder, the boy he’d watched grow up since childhood.

“Win some pride—seal the deal in one go.”

Wu Maowen was Yan Li’s childhood friend; they were nearly the same age, now approaching thirty, at the age to marry.

Dong Xuan personally arranged the match; the girl was a posture instructor at North Film, also a graduate of North Film, a native of Jingcheng, though from the suburbs.

The girl’s qualifications were excellent, but Wu Maowen wasn’t lacking either.

He was now one of Yan Li’s personal drivers and security leads, with a substantial income and considerable status.