Chapter 345

Victory Banquet

Yan Li was talking with Fan Xiaopang when Huang Zong from Dongfang Films drifted over, not intruding directly but circling nearby.

“Someone’s coming—take a lap first.”

Yan Li reminded him; Fan Xiaopang stood up, and as he passed Huang Zong, the latter smiled and greeted him, but Fan Xiaopang merely nodded politely.

She had no fondness for this Hong Kong heir; in her view, the yacht club was entirely Huang Zong’s doing.

No woman likes a man who tries to find women for his man!

Not just Fan Xiaopang—even Qin Dong had a lukewarm opinion of Huang Zong; when Yan Li hosted gatherings in Hong Kong, the two had shown up out of courtesy, but afterward they’d mocked him behind his back.

Huang Zong understood the situation but dared not provoke them, so he pretended not to notice Fan Xiaopang’s coldness and chatted with Yan Li as if nothing were amiss.

“Mr. Yan, I’m truly grateful this time.”

“It’s mutual benefit.”

Yan Li raised his cup and clinked it with Huang Zong’s; their collaboration during this New Year’s release window had indeed been pleasant.

Never mind *Ip Man*—both companies jointly invested, Dongfang handled production while Yi’an managed distribution, and they made a hefty profit.

Domestic box office alone turned a profit; Hong Kong and Southeast Asia also brought in earnings, but more importantly, domestic and international licensing rights were highly sought after.

Many don’t understand why today’s top action stars earn more than mainstream movie stars.

Beyond the difficulty of filming and actor scarcity, it’s because action films are among the very few genres foreign distributors are willing to buy.

Thanks to the efforts of multiple kung fu legends and countless films and cultural exports, the term “Chinese kung fu” has become one of China’s global identifiers, with a dedicated fanbase worldwide.

A fanbase means a market—even if small, it’s profitable.

So, a successful kung fu film like *Ip Man* differs from ordinary blockbusters: it has broader, longer-lasting reach and revenue potential.

Over the years, Yi’an has also participated in overseas film distribution; while *Ip Man* may not have had the highest price tag, it was undoubtedly the best-selling.

Dongfang Films and Huang Zong cared about overseas earnings; Yan Li saw the overseas channels and the significance of going global—both mattered greatly to Yi’an.

Yan Li had long neglected overseas distribution due to limited channels and meager profits, and he’d long recognized how difficult it was for Chinese film and television to break out internationally.

But that was then!

Previously, Yi’an prioritized profit; unprofitable, labor-intensive ventures were ignored.

Now, Yi’an wants to go public and boost its stock price again—it can’t focus solely on profit.

Overseas markets, international influence, cultural export—these are all compelling narratives that can raise company valuation, industry standing, and official favor.

This year, Yi’an will establish a dedicated overseas division to coordinate with film, television, distribution, talent agency, advertising, and theater departments for international market development and cross-border projects.

Not just Yi’an—Weibo is also considering launching an overseas version, to see if it can steal market share from Facebook and Twitter.

*Ip Man*, *Painted Skin*, and the idol dramas and nationality-free films Yan Li and Fan Xiaopang discussed are all part of Yan Li’s grand strategy for cultural export.

How much market share they capture is secondary; the key is to make a loud, visible statement—to take a solid, steady first step so Yan Li can tell a compelling story.

Hmm, Yan Li felt he was growing more and more like Yu Pangzi and the Wang brothers he once looked down upon…

Besides *Ip Man*, Dongfang Films’ *All’s Well, Ends Well* was also distributed by Yi’an, earning nearly 50 million in box office, a substantial return.

Having tasted success, Dongfang Films now wanted to cling tighter to Yi’an’s leg; Huang Zong came to Beijing for the banquet to strengthen ties and inquire about this year’s collaboration.

“I just spoke with Bullet—the summer slot is open. When your script’s ready, just start prepping.”

Yi’an had no intention of getting involved in *Ip Man 2*; Dongfang Films had done an excellent job with strong word-of-mouth and box office success—let them keep the same team.

Yi’an provides funding, coordination, and distribution; each plays their role, mutual benefit.

“Wonderful! With Mr. Yan’s backing, everything’s settled.”

Huang Zong was overjoyed; since *Ip Man*’s success, Bullet had grown close to Yi’an.

Though Yan Li had already made his position clear, the Huang family still feared Yi’an would drop them and leave them out.

Now, with Yan Li reaffirming it and explicitly stating Dongfang Films would continue production, it signaled the Huang family could keep eating from the *Ip Man* pie.

Pulling out his cigarette case, Huang Zong swiftly lit one for Yan Li, glanced around, then whispered.

“*All’s Well, Ends Well* did well—my father plans to continue the ‘Happy’ series and will rely on your support. By the way, Baby and Yongshan performed well in their last roles—there are suitable parts for them in this one. What do you think?”

Yan Li smiled; no wonder Fan Xiaopang and the others had a lukewarm opinion of Huang Zong—he was trying to pimp them out.

“Do as you see fit.”

Yan Li paused, considering their past connection; he chose to help the two women, but didn’t say it outright, subtly signaling his stance to prevent the Huang family from making presumptuous demands.

…

After Huang Zong left, several others came by in quick succession.

Yan Li was busy now; it wasn’t easy to arrange a private meeting—this setting was a good opportunity for casual exchange.

Ning Hao brought Xu Zheng and another young man who approached Yan Li, introducing himself as a new director named Yang Qing.

He was here to seek investment!

With this setup, Yan Li instantly understood—he was too familiar with this scenario.

Channels for securing Yi’an investment weren’t many; direct submissions to the company were most common, but had the lowest chance of success.

It wasn’t that Yi’an staff were lazy—it was that too many projects were unreliable, like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Those who could only submit this way were often newcomers or even outsiders with no connections, no influence, and often no ability.

Anyone with some standing in the industry, some talent, usually knew someone—directly or indirectly—who had ties to Yi’an’s mid- or senior-level staff, and collaborated in various ways; a significant portion of Yi’an’s projects came this way.

Another route: projects passed directly to Yan Li through personal connections.

Not many, because those who dared approach Yan Li directly were either peers of similar stature, or close associates and confidants; outsiders needed an exceptionally strong project to even dare ask.

There were also brash newcomers who’d block Yan Li with scripts or business plans demanding investment.

But Yan Li had never encountered one with investment potential—it left him slightly disappointed, because such confrontational scenes made better stories.

Ning Hao had recommended projects to Yan Li more than once.

As a sixth-generation director, Ning Hao had long been embedded in the industry, with his own network; recommending suitable projects to Yan Li was natural, and Yan Li didn’t reject it—he even encouraged it.

He believed that anyone good enough to be friends with Ning Hao wouldn’t be terrible.

If they found a good project, the company profited; if not, it was just wasted time—what film company boss doesn’t read dozens of bad scripts a year?

“Come, sit.”

Yan Li invited the three to sit; Xu Zheng voluntarily poured wine and tea for everyone.

Xu Zheng had appeared in *Crazy Stone* and *Love Is a Magical Thing*, and also starred in an Yi’an-invested comedy TV series.

To many, he was considered half of the Yi’an circle; he was close with Ning Hao and Huang Bao.

Even for *Crazy Stone*, the promotion promoted the “Comedy Iron Triangle,” and though Xu Zheng’s role was a bit peripheral, his name carried weight and his comedic timing was strong—many still bought in.

Initially, Yan Li wondered why Xu Zheng had come along; after chatting, he learned Xu Zheng had been the one who connected the dots.

He knew Yang Qing, and one character in the script was even written specifically for him.

Xu Zheng thought the script and role were good, so he used his connections to help Yang Qing secure investment—and the biggest companies and bosses he knew were Yi’an and Yan Li.

But Xu Zheng felt his own clout wasn’t enough to convince Yan Li, so he brought Ning Hao along to lend weight.

“Director Yan, I’ve read the script. Some plot points are a bit clunky, but overall it’s solid—and the budget is tiny. Preliminary estimates: two to three million.”

With tight cost control, a box office of just five million would turn a profit—exceptional cost-to-return ratio.

Yan Li wasn’t swayed by the low cost; low cost only meant a lower break-even threshold and smaller risk—it didn’t guarantee profit.

Small profit is profit; small loss is still loss!

And these new directors? Some are careless, some are fearless, some lack experience—they can’t control budgets, and cost overruns are common.

Once sunk costs pile up, you can’t just walk away; what’s billed as two or three million often ends up 20% or even double that by the final accounting.

Yan Li flipped through Yang Qing’s script outline and pitch materials.

The settings were indeed simple—a supermarket or convenience store would suffice; as long as actor costs were controlled and a seasoned producer handled the rest, it should be manageable.