Chapter 346: Fans Break Ten Million: The Battle of the Top Female Star

February 2nd, the eighth day of the first lunar month

The film "The Founding of a Nation" officially commenced shooting at the Huairou Film Base, with director Han Sanye, Huang Jianzhong, Tang Guoqiang, and other key creatives all present.

Yan Li was listed as producer of the film and made a cameo as a Nationalist army officer at a checkpoint, suspected of being an undercover agent.

The role consisted of only one scene: allowing the democratic figure Zhang Lan and his group to pass, with mysterious demeanor, making him appear like a Communist underground operative.

Originally, Yan Li was slated to play Du Yuming or another senior Nationalist officer, but it was later found that his scenes might not make the final cut, and his youth clashed awkwardly with the predominantly middle-aged cast.

Moreover, Yan Li was busy and had limited shooting time, so they assigned him a similar but minor role and filmed it quickly.

Though small, the role involved acting with none other than top-tier talent.

It was likely Chen Daoming, and this storyline also intersected with Jiang Wen’s portrayal of Mao Renfeng; according to Han Sanye, he might direct that segment.

As previously mentioned, "The Founding of a Nation" recruited numerous "part-time directors," including Chen Dadao, Feng Xiaogang, Jiang Wen, Ning Hao, and other renowned filmmakers.

Han Sanye had already instructed them: while making cameos, they would also oversee certain scenes—directing, guiding, or advising—each handling one segment, which would surely enhance the film.

Yet Yan Li felt these famed directors were no pushovers; if they all gave conflicting instructions, the film would become unbalanced, with strong branches and weak trunks.

But this was a tribute film—entertainment mattered most, and above them stood Han Sanye as the anchor and Huang Jianxin as the overall supervisor.

“...Inviting celebrities means entertainment, no no no—I’d rather call it marketization or commercialization...”

“...In an era of rapid film market expansion, mainstream themes must also evolve with the times; we cannot remain stagnant...”

“...Operating mainstream themes through commercial models is one of our key development and research directions—there are historical epics, fantasy epics, why not mainstream or red epics...”

“...Hollywood’s 'Top Gun' and 'Saving Private Ryan' are routinely labeled military or war films, but in essence, they are American mainstream epics—I’ve never seen certain people question Hollywood like this; double standards are unacceptable...”

“...”

As always, the current climate is terrible—public intellectuals and traitors abound, especially in media and cultural circles.

These people lavish praise and deify any sensitive subject matter.

But when they encounter mainstream or red-themed works, they react as if their mothers had been murdered—screaming accusations, wanting to jump up and down cursing loudly.

"The Founding of a Nation" drew massive attention and stirred up many nerves; online chatter prompted some media outlets to ask questions.

Although Han Sanye was the project’s official lead, his visibility clearly paled beside Yan Li’s, so they targeted Yan Li instead.

Though it stole some spotlight, Yan Li responded anyway, for the sake of "The Founding of a Nation."

After the interview, Han Sanye gave Yan Li a thumbs-up.

Some things he, as an official representative, couldn’t say openly, and even if he did, his words wouldn’t carry the same impact as those from a young commercial idol like Yan Li.

If Han Sanye said those things, not only would official circles frown, but public opinion would swarm him.

Yan Li, meanwhile, not only had Weibo’s backing, but his influence and fan base alone could already counteract those public intellectuals and traitors to some degree.

In fact, many of them were his fans.

True, Yan Li refused to admit it, but as a commercial idol and charismatic figure, he was a classic authority elite—his supporters were numerous and fiercely loyal; attacking him might trigger internal conflict.

Shaking his head, Yan Li didn’t dwell on it; after making a brief appearance and greeting Han Sanye and the lead actors, he left the set.

His scenes still had a while to shoot, and might not even be filmed in Huairou.

…

Zhichun Road, Weibo headquarters

When Yan Li arrived, the company was bustling; the Spring Festival surge meant Weibo’s total registered users were about to hit 100 million, requiring extensive promotional planning and events to boost visibility.

Entering his office, his secretary handed him documents; Yan Li skimmed them and asked casually.

“Is the second Weibo Goddess final round nearly over?”

“It ends at eight p.m., sharp.”

“Who’s ahead?”

“Xiao Yanzi currently leads, but the gap is tiny—lead has switched back and forth before.”

Yan Li nodded; this year’s final, featuring two reigning actresses from the Four Dan and Two Bing, plus their "Return of the Pearl" connection, was even livelier than last year’s.

“Boss Yan, should we steer some traffic?”

The secretary asked; Yan Li paused, understanding her implication.

Fan Xiaopang was one of their own; Weibo naturally leaned toward her winning. Now, with scrutiny high, vote manipulation was sensitive—but steering traffic was subtler.

“No. Let them compete on their own.”

A Weibo Goddess wasn’t worth cheating for.

Yi’an and Weibo rose and fell together; the platform was already sensitive. Arbitrary interference would destroy its neutrality and credibility.

So Yan Li stuck to rules as much as possible—even occasionally sacrificing his own people—to preserve the bigger picture.

“Send me the 100-million-user campaign plan. Notify the financing team to meet this afternoon. Also, the internet business forum speech draft has a few issues—call the writer in, I’ll speak with him.”

Stretching his wrists, Yan Li set aside the Weibo Goddess and drank water, slipping into work mode.

Yan Li didn’t care about a Weibo Goddess, but Fan Xiaopang did.

Or rather, she didn’t care about the title—she just didn’t want to lose to Xiao Yanzi.

Xinghewan

“Sis, we’ve mobilized all fan groups, forums, and related websites—we can catch up on votes soon.”

Yang Tianzhen reported; Fan Xiaopang pointed at her screen, where the "Return of the Pearl" forum showed Xiao Yanzi’s fans campaigning.

They weren’t just voting—they used derogatory nicknames: “Lock Sis,” “Hat Sis,” “Stick Sis”—utterly vile.

Fortunately, Fan Xiaopang’s fans weren’t passive; they fired back with “Flag Sis,” “Shit Sis,” “Beat-Up Sis.”

The two fan factions clashed fiercely in the "Return of the Pearl" forum, dragging Lin Xinru into the fray.

The three women disliked each other; their fans did too.

But now, Yan-Fan’s momentum was overwhelming; even without direct targeting, the collateral damage forced Lin Xinru’s fans into retreat, battered and humiliated.

“Sis, don’t get angry—many trolls are just like this: venomous tongues, tough hearts.”

Yang Tianzhen glanced and assumed Fan Xiaopang was enraged by Xiao Yanzi’s fans’ remarks—but Fan Xiaopang shook her head.

“I think the other side is well-prepared, with strong mobilization. We can’t put all our eggs in one basket.”

Fan Xiaopang had been red-hot for two years, but Xiao Yanzi was no pushover; even if her career wasn’t as dominant, her massive national recognition and influence kept her firmly in the top tier of actresses.

This was clear from Weibo follower counts and the Weibo Goddess vote: without Yi’an’s backing, Fan Xiaopang might already have lost.

Now the two were locked in a tight battle—winner isn’t easy to predict.

Win, and all is joy; lose, and Fan Xiaopang would reclaim victory elsewhere.

Yang Tianzhen asked: “Sis, what’s your plan?”

“Play it safe—expand the battlefield. Open two fronts. Lose here, win there—at least, don’t lose both.”

As she spoke, Fan Xiaopang manipulated her laptop, opening a Weibo ranking.

“This is the Weibo total follower leaderboard. I’m currently number one, with 9.79 million followers—just one step from ten million.”

Yang Tianzhen’s eyes lit up instantly: “Brilliant idea!”

Weibo’s total registered users were nearing 100 million; top-tier stars’ followers were already approaching the ten-million mark.

Don’t think that’s small—Weibo is global; every user has their own interests and followings, so concentration on a single account is naturally limited.

So, having multiple stars hit nearly ten million followers in under a year is already extraordinary.

Not just on Weibo—look at global social media; only a handful of personal accounts have ever approached ten million followers.

That means the first Weibo account to surpass ten million followers might also become the world’s first social media account to do so.

That significance far outweighs the Weibo Goddess title—marketing it could even gain international attention.

Yang Tianzhen grew more excited, mental headlines flashing—she couldn’t help hugging Fan Xiaopang in praise.

“Sis, how did you think of this? This move is genius!”

Fan Xiaopang smiled slightly; she owed this idea to her fans’ bickering—she’d seen one fan say, “Even if I lose, I’m still the Weibo follower with the most fans,” and it sparked the insight.

It wasn’t that Yang Tianzhen or the team hadn’t thought of it—they simply hadn’t expected Fan Xiaopang’s followers to be the largest.

But just as the Weibo Goddess battle erupted, Fan Xiaopang defeated strong rivals and even Han Chun, then faced Xiao Yanzi in a peak showdown, skyrocketing her exposure and pushing her to number one.

Xiao Yanzi was no slouch either—currently ranked third, also close to the ten-million mark.

This was boosted by the Weibo Goddess contest and their already high rankings.

Of the Four Dan and Two Bing, except Xu Caiv, the other five all ranked in the top thirty Weibo follower lists; Yan and Fan had long been in the top ten.

The other three, only Li Bingbing, riding on the “Two Bing” connection and "Painted Skin" momentum, barely made the top ten.

The rest of the top ten were Li Kaifu, Han Chun, He Dan, Guo Degang, Liu Huohua, Wang Fei, and Yan Li.

Either extremely popular with the public or with massive fanbases, or both—and some were Weibo’s own bosses.

Fan Xiaopang was slightly relieved: Yan Li had disabled comments and rarely self-promoted or pushed traffic; otherwise, the first ten-million follower might not have been hers.

“Go arrange it. Losing the Weibo Goddess is acceptable—but the first ten-million follower must be ours.”

Yang Tianzhen nodded, adding flattery: “There are countless Weibo Goddesses, but only one Weibo Queen.”

“Sis, I don’t even want you to win the Weibo Goddess—winning both at once would be wasteful. Two runner-ups, then next year’s crown—more buzz.”

“Not worth it.”

Even with the ten-million-follower plan in place, if she could beat Xiao Yanzi, Fan Xiaopang still preferred to crush her old rival one more time.

…

The Weibo Goddess final stirred many fans and actresses.

Though Liu Tianxian won last year, many felt she won unfairly, benefiting from the Four Dan and Two Bing infighting.

The girl was popular, yes, but most agreed she still lagged behind the Four Dan and Two Bing, especially in film achievements.

Zhang and Zhou? Their film credentials were solid.

Among the Two Bing, Li Bingbing had already shown promise at Huayi, and now had "Painted Skin"; Fan Xiaopang, besides "Painted Skin," had starred in "Red Cliff," "Love in the Time of Peach Blossoms," and "The Siege," firmly establishing her as a top-tier film goddess.

Xu Caiyu forged her own path, pioneering the career of female director and starred in the hit film The Message.

Xiao Yanzi’s film career never stopped; though she lacks standout masterpieces, her advantage as Liu Qiang’s version completely overwhelms Liu Tianxian.

Thus, Liu Tianxian was elected Weibo Goddess last year, which brought her several personal benefits.

For instance, she further solidified her position as the top newcomer and challenged the Four Dan and Two Bing, with some even regarding her as equal in status to them.

But her foundation is too shallow, and she stands alone, unable to shake the entire monopoly held by the Four Dan and Two Bing.

In public perception, the Four Dan and Two Bing remain the most popular female stars on the mainland; Liu Tianxian is still grouped among other rising stars.

Precisely because of this, the final showdown among the Four Dan and Two Bing drew exceptional attention.

Coupled with Weibo and sensationalist media stoking the frenzy, fans also got swept up, turning the debate over The Return of the Pearl into a battle for the number one female star of the entertainment industry.

This infuriated Zhang Ziyi and Zhou Young Master; they cursed: “How shameless—thinking a single vote can snatch the title of top female star? Pfft.”

Thus, the fanbases of the Four Dan and Two Bing descended into constant, chaotic battles.

Eventually, Xu Caiyu’s official fan club was forced to establish an official presence on Weibo.

They had no choice—the main battlefield was Weibo; without a stronghold, they’d be kicked out.

Xu Caiyu signed an exclusive contract with Sina Microblog; this fan club became effectively half of Xu Caiyu herself, and Weibo now had all four Dan and two Bing.

Then the fighting intensified even further!

In the small forest at Beijing Film Academy, Yang Mi gazed at the heated scene on her Weibo phone and sighed with genuine emotion.

Some bystanders might think these fans are too noisy, but as an artist, seeing her seniors command such massive followings, commanding the spotlight and dominating the scene, she felt mostly envy.

Tong Yaya glanced at her: “Stop envying them—I bet in no time, you’ll be even more popular than they are. Don’t forget me then.”

Yang Mi was heavily promoted, her resources clearly improved, and her momentum was strong; in this Weibo Goddess election, she made it into the top thirty-two, ranking among the elite of the new generation.

She envied the Four Dan and Two Bing, unaware that others envied her.

“Then I’ll accept your good wishes.”

Yang Mi didn’t refuse, smiling as she agreed; Tong Yaya was stunned and couldn’t help shaking her head.

“You’re so shameless.”

“Your thinness? Let me pinch it.”

Yang Mi reached out to pinch her; Tong Yaya dodged, and the two laughed and wrestled playfully.