Chapter 363: Busy Summer, Era

The 2009 summer TV market was packed with top talent.

CCTV launched “My Brother Is Shunliu,” starring Wang Baoqiang with his longtime partner Zhang Guoqiang in a supporting role.

Although its overall quality and reputation slightly lagged behind its sister series “Soldiers Sortie” and “My Tuanzhang My Team,” it achieved outstanding ratings and became one of CCTV’s highest-viewed dramas of the year, igniting the screen.

Wang Baoqiang, fueled by this drama, became one of the hottest actors at the time.

When people mention mainland 80s male actors, they often name Hu Ge and a few other rising stars, but the most prominent figure right now is still Wang Baoqiang.

Not only is he popular, he also carries multiple buffs that align with the current grassroots-uprising trend, earning him exceptional public favor.

But this same strength is also his weakness.

Wang Baoqiang enjoys high national recognition, yet his commercial value and fan popularity are average, leading to him being firmly categorized as a “power actor” and never included among the 80s rising male stars.

Even within Huayi, his importance ranks below Huang Xiaoming, Zhang Hanyu, Lu Yi, and Su Youpeng, and even actors like Duan Long and Li Chen from “Soldiers Sortie” are subtly prioritized over him.

In truth, many still believe Wang Baoqiang’s success today stems from luck, viewing him as a functional actor.

He’s doing well now thanks to roles like Xu Sanduo, Shunliu, and Shageng, plus the popularity of grassroots figures.

But in another two years, when the trend fades, his image and roles will be constrained, audiences will grow tired, and he’ll fade away—far outpaced by those actors with looks and acting ability.

Not only Huayi thought this way—even Yan Li once believed it too.

The industry had seen similar actors before; although none reached Wang Baoqiang’s level of fame, the pattern was always the same: a few years of popularity, then decline. With luck, they might stabilize in the industry and keep getting roles, but never again reach their peak.

On a professional level, there’s another issue: grassroots figures who rise quickly often have weaker character.

“Poor man suddenly rich” is an ugly phrase, but it holds truth.

People who acquire wealth mismatched to their cognition and character often squander it all due to those very limitations.

Even Yan Li himself only expanded his horizons and elevated himself through the system, avoiding many pitfalls—he might have collapsed halfway otherwise.

Thus, even if their careers seem stable, personal or lifestyle issues can still derail them, ending their glory.

In the industry, countless stars who rose overnight became arrogant, self-destructed, or were targeted, deceived, and ultimately crashed hard.

Only after the system triggered a future intelligence report related to Wang Baoqiang did Yan Li begin to view him differently.

He’d misjudged him—there really was a decent person in the entertainment circle!

Hmm, “decent” isn’t quite the right word—Wang Baoqiang isn’t the type of silent, dull Laoshiren who can’t even grunt under three blows. He understands boundaries, shows reverence, holds firm to his Dixian , and maintains a relatively high moral standard.

In the glittering, tempting world of entertainment, a rural boy achieving this is truly rare and precious.

Yan Li greatly admired him; “My Brother Is Shunliu” was produced by Xiao Ma Bunteng, with Yi’an also investing and handling distribution.

Besides this drama, Yi’an’s other dramas invested in and produced this year included:

Tangren’s “The Legend of Sword and Fairy 3,” starring Hu Ge and Yang Mi.

Yu Zheng Studio’s “Locking the Autumn,” starring Yang Rong.

Yi’an’s own productions: “Xue Dingshan Conquers the West,” “My Little Aunt Duohe,” and three other dramas.

Additionally, dramas distributed by Yi’an included three others, led by Zhao Baogang’s “Who Decides My Youth.”

One summer, investing in six dramas and distributing nine—that’s Yi’an’s current strength in the TV drama field.

But TV dramas can’t be judged by quantity alone—they must be measured by results, and in this regard, Yi’an also stood out.

“My Brother Is Shunliu” first exploded in popularity, followed by “Locking the Autumn,” which claimed the top spot for nearly two consecutive weeks, briefly becoming Hunan TV’s hottest summer drama.

The most regrettable was “Let’s Watch the Meteor Shower” emerging later—though savaged by media and netizens as a clichéd drama, its ratings were wildly high, nearly competing for the title of summer’s hottest drama.

Its direct competitor was “The Legend of Sword and Fairy 3.”

Under Yi’an’s distribution, this drama skipped terrestrial channels and premiered directly on Jiangsu Satellite TV.

In terms of ratings, “The Legend of Sword and Fairy 3” performed well in the summer slot but wasn’t among the best—even struggling to break into the top three.

Yet it was incredibly popular, especially online, with explosive growth compared to Tongqi .

For example, its theme songs and background music dominated major music platforms and charts, spreading with immense influence.

On Weibo’s rating system, it once neared 8.5 points—though not the highest-rated summer drama, it had the most voters: nearly 500,000 ratings, ranking among the top since Weibo’s rating system launched.

Note: This is Weibo’s film and TV rating system, entirely different from Douban’s.

Weibo’s user base and scale far surpass Douban’s.

The mechanisms differ too: Douban requires users to search or actively seek out dramas to rate, which is inconvenient.

Weibo, eager to capitalize on these hot dramas’ traffic, actively encourages users to rate and review, using it for marketing, promotion, and sparking discussion—even running periodic campaigns to concentrate ratings.

For instance, gathering all summer movies and TV dramas together, urging users to rate them, then holding year-end reviews and annual voting + rating events.

In short, Weibo’s number of raters is incomparable to Douban’s.

Unless it’s a niche film Douban adores, most films and TV dramas attract two to three times more ratings on Weibo than on Douban; for popular mainstream titles, Weibo ratings can be five to ten times higher.

More voters mean greater influence—thanks to this, Weibo’s ratings now hold more weight and importance than Douban’s.

Especially for airing dramas and released films, many people now consult Weibo ratings; Douban has gradually become a niche platform for indie film/book recommendations and professional reviews, adopting a high-end, specialized route and leaving mass opinions to Weibo.

Even so, it’s not entirely smooth—some critics and fans still post in-depth reviews as long essays on Weibo.

Douban offers pure, closed-circle discussions; Weibo thrives on fan Zhuipeng and traffic-driven profits.

It’s just copy-pasting—using both platforms doesn’t interfere with anything.

Thus, Douban is now caught between a rock and a hard place.

Commercializing would transform its ecosystem, alienating its core fans and eroding its key selling point.

But without commercialization, continuing to hoard its own little world, how can the platform profit or survive? It’s heading straight toward extinction.

One general’s success is built on ten thousand corpses!

Weibo’s success came alongside the decline, mediocrity, or collapse of many platforms—Tianya, Douban, blogs—all became “victims.”

The number of raters on Weibo’s score also reveals “The Legend of Sword and Fairy 3”’s popularity on the platform.

It trended constantly, filled with topics, and Hu Ge and other lead actors all gained varying amounts of followers.

Still, because “Let’s Watch the Meteor Shower” featured mostly newcomers starting from zero, their follower growth appeared more impressive.

Even so, Hu Ge and others benefited greatly; starting from this summer’s second Weibo Male Idol contest, Hu Ge consistently ranked in the top three during the preliminary round and easily advanced in the main competition.

If this trend continues, unless he faces a top contender early, his chances of reaching the semifinals are high—and even the championship or runner-up aren’t out of reach.

In contrast, Yang Mi’s female lead role wasn’t as standout as the other student characters, but she had capital backing.

She already had some popularity, Yi’an heavily promoted her, and rumors even spread that she and Hu Ge fell in love during filming—creating a scandalous couple narrative that made headlines.

Tencent’s “Four Little Fairies” list—Yang Mi was already a lock for one spot; some even began comparing her to Liu Tianyi.

The 85s Twin Stars!

Never mind whether it fits—stick to the old rule: first build momentum. If Yang Mi develops well and the name sticks, even if it doesn’t fit, it’ll become accepted.

Besides Hu and Yang, Liu Shishi and Tang Yan also received widespread attention.

Those eager to discover new talent weren’t just Yi’an—everyone had similar mindsets, just varying in intensity and urgency.

But Liu Shishi was hard to poach—Tangren’s Cai Zong guarded her like his own eyes.

At first, Tangren considered promoting Liu Shishi, then shifted focus to Tang Yan; Yi’an intervened and parachuted Yang Mi in.

Cai Zong knew his limits: Yi’an wasn’t Rongxin Da—Yang Mi was absolutely unmovable; even not poaching Liu Shishi was considered decent.

Tang Yan wasn’t easy either—she’d signed with Orange Sky early, and now that she was popular, rumors said she planned to lead a group called the “Orange Sky Seven Princesses.”

Orange Sky was strong, but comparisons depend on who you’re measuring against—Tangren couldn’t compete for talent.

So Cai Zong paid close attention to Liu Shishi; after “The Legend of Sword and Fairy 3” became a hit, he essentially confirmed her as Tangren’s number one female lead.

Tangren’s male and female number ones—Yang Mi and Tang Yan were both newly promoted by Yi’an and Orange Sky; the male second lead, Hu Jianhua, was a top rising star from Taiwan—“The Legend of Sword and Fairy 3” had top-tier star-making power.

Additionally, “Locking the Autumn” performed well, and Yang Rong, having previously won the satellite channel annual crown with “The Hard Love of a Diamond Old Man,” became one of the hottest young actresses.

But she was extremely low-key; because of Yan Li, she declined many events and endorsements, only acting in dramas and theater, or traveling.

Such low exposure was unhealthy for a star.

This made Yang Rong moderately famous, but her popularity and current status lagged behind peers of her level—though she didn’t seem to care.

Even Yu Zheng tried to capitalize on the momentum by offering her a major drama, but she turned it down and went straight to the Shanghai Theater Troupe for rehearsals.

Regardless of other factors, Yu Zheng, as her studio boss and old classmate, treated her well—he’d let her act if she wanted to, or not if she didn’t.

Of course, Yan Li’s personal request was also a major reason.

“Xue Dingshan Conquers the West” and “My Little Aunt Duohe” performed relatively worse—some influence and results, but not particularly popular, just average.

The distributed “Who Decides My Youth” did okay, but with too many strong contenders in the summer slot, it didn’t stand out.

Lu Yi, signed to Huayi and preparing to challenge Huang Xiaoming for the top male lead, was visibly falling behind.

Other 70s mainland rising male stars—Nie Yuan and Yin Xiaotian from Ciwen, Zhou Jie from Orange Sky due to his car accident, Ren Quan drifting aimlessly, Huang Haibing losing momentum—all showed similar decline.

Currently, only the original four male leads launched by Yi’an remained steadily rising.

Those still closely chasing and posing a real threat were Rongxin Da’s Chen Kun and Yi’an’s Qiao Zhenyu.

With Wang Baoqiang, Hu Ge, Wen Zhang, Du Chun, and other 80s rising to fame, Hong Kong and Taiwan male stars were flooding northward—time was running out for them.

…

But Yan Li had plenty of time.

Throughout the summer, Yan Li shuttled between Yi’an and Weibo—Yi’an’s dramas and films boosted Weibo’s traffic, and Weibo’s traffic fed back into Yi’an’s film and TV projects.

In Yi’an’s words, Weibo was their outsourced PR department, and Weibo viewed Yi’an as an unofficial content division.

Yan Li was the direct link between both sides; during the first summer after their equity swap, he personally coordinated their collaboration, exploring and establishing fixed cooperation models.

Besides Weibo and Yi’an, Tudou, which had also swapped equity, was within the scope of contact.

But since Tudou wasn’t led by Yan Li, and the TV market still centered on TV stations, Tudou’s presence remained low.

Yet Yan Li still valued Tudou highly.

TV stations remained the market’s core, but the rise of video websites was already becoming evident.

Holding Yi’an’s distribution data, Yan Li clearly saw online streaming rights skyrocketing.

Two or three years ago, a popular TV drama cost only a few thousand yuan per episode, with very few exceeding ten thousand.

For blockbusters like “The Legend of the Condor Heroes” or “The Legend of Lu Xiaofeng,” even with deliberate hype to break records, the entire series was bundled for just one million yuan—about 20,000 to 30,000 yuan per episode.

Although this situation was unusual, it nonetheless stimulated the online streaming rights market to some extent.

Meanwhile, Yan Li’s Yi’an Media and LeTV aggressively acquired rights, forcing websites like Youku and Tudou to enter the market, which also influenced price trends to some degree.

As a result, today’s online streaming market has increased by more than tenfold compared to just two years ago.

The general price per episode is now over 30,000 yuan; popular dramas start at 50,000 yuan, and especially hot or wildly successful ones reach 80,000 to 100,000 yuan per episode.

This figure cannot compare with TV stations, where prices routinely reach hundreds of thousands—or even over a million—yuan per episode.

But don’t forget: two or three years ago, a single episode cost only a few thousand yuan. At this rate of development, video websites will see episodes priced at hundreds of thousands of yuan within no more than two years.

Tudou and Youku can no longer afford to burn cash, so they remain relatively restrained, spending only tens or over a hundred million yuan annually on rights.

But both are now preparing for IPOs; if successful and they raise sufficient capital, combined with increasingly restrictive rights policies, it will inevitably become a bloody, cash-burning war.

The market follows money—whichever side offers more becomes the leader.

When video websites outbid TV stations, the entire film and television industry will shift allegiance accordingly.

Even for Weibo, which relies heavily on film and television star resources, Tudou’s importance will rise dramatically at that point.

It can be said that the era of internet streaming replacing traditional TV stations has already begun to unfold.

Keep up, and you’ll continue to feast and revel.

Fall behind, and you’re dead.

While Yi’an’s TV drama and distribution departments were gloating over their outstanding performance during this year’s summer season, Yan Li had already begun considering restructuring plans for both departments.

The TV drama department is fine for now—no major changes needed, as even with the rise of video platforms, there will still be demand for dramas to provide content.

The distribution department, however, must prepare in advance, especially its TV drama distributors.

As TV stations decline sharply in the future and only a few platforms remain, most likely prioritizing cooperation with Tudou, there will be no need for so many distribution staff.