Chapter 370: Fan Xiaopang Visits the Set and Blows Up, Yells at Dong Xuan, Confronts Xu Qing

Night, set of "Let's Shoot the Bullet"

Yan Li had his makeup retouched by the makeup artist while rehearsing lines with Jiang Wen and the others.

Jiang Wen gestured beside him, reciting the script's lines; the absurdity from the character shifts made Yan Li burst into laughter.

When he first joined the cast, Yan Li's scenes were mostly centered on Huang Master's personal moments, with only a few exchanges with Jiang Wen and the others.

Yan Li's mindset was simply to act—no sense of going through the motions, just normal performance, no special drive.

After the Hongmen Banquet scene, where he, Jiang Wen, and Ge Daye had an intense exchange, Yan Li's attitude shifted.

For the Hongmen Banquet scene, Jiang Wen indeed shot with great care—eight full days for a single scene.

Don't think this scene took long—it was only about ten minutes total, with just the few of them as the focus, no need for scene changes, so normally it should've gone quickly.

But Jiang Wen obsessively tweaked every detail, fine-tuned the rhythm, determined to make this scene perfect.

Even though Jiang Wen shot slowly, neither Ge Daye nor Yan Li showed any annoyance.

On one hand, Jiang Wen kept the atmosphere lively—the set was never dull.

He talked, he joked; Yan Li was skilled at socializing; Ge Daye was quick-witted too. When waiting for their cues or discussing scenes, they'd sit and chat, growing more and more animated, sometimes continuing long after wrap.

This wasn't slacking off—it was syncing their rhythms, building chemistry.

For such high-intensity confrontation scenes, individual performance was secondary; team coordination was crucial.

On the other hand, all of them were thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Yan Li's career wasn't short, but he'd only had a handful of times where acting truly felt exhilarating.

In the past, that exhilaration came mostly from embodying the role—acting in sync with the character—or from a few standout dramatic moments where he could fully unleash himself.

The Hongmen Banquet scene in "Let's Shoot the Bullet" was different—it was pure, unadulterated enjoyment in acting.

Several top-tier actors, one table, facing each other, trading lines like blades drawn, brimming with tension.

Yan Li couldn't say exactly how Jiang Wen and Ge Daye felt, but for him, this was his first time locking horns at such intensity with two acting giants—he truly, genuinely enjoyed every second.

Once he got into that groove, Yan Li became more invested in every scene, full of energy every day, improving with each take, growing more and more addicted.

Yan Li was having fun, Ge Daye was enjoying himself too, and Jiang Wen worked hard to keep them both in that state; the entire crew began shooting more smoothly, especially their trio scenes, which drew the whole team to watch.

"Alright, everyone ready? Thunder's coming."

Lights flashed wildly; in the shadows, silhouettes appeared and vanished with each lightning strike, slowly advancing, as Jiang Wen's deep, powerful voice rang out.

"Hu Wan is the bandit. The bandit is Hu Wan."

"…"

Huang Silang sent men disguised as bandits to kill Zhang Mazi, but they were killed in return, their bodies branded as bandits—leaving Huang himself under suspicion of collusion, utterly on the defensive.

Jiang Wen stared unflinchingly at Yan Li, gun pointed at him: "You're pointing a gun at me? You want to fight me?"

Yan Li's face was full of murderous intent, but his eyes flickered; with a flash of lightning, he suddenly spun the gun and fired several shots at Hu Wan on the ground, then roared angrily.

"See that? This is the fate of bandits—even if he were my own father, he'd die."

"He deserves to die."

Yan Li fired two more shots, glared at Jiang Wen, and gritted his teeth: "Soon."

Jiang Wen removed his hat and pressed harder, using Hu Wan's death to force Huang Master to pay for the bandit-suppression campaign; Huang Master pretended to yield, claiming a surprise in three days—but gave no concrete answer. Jiang Wen pressed further, dragging the indecisive Ge Daye into the confrontation.

"Translate it. What does 'surprise' mean?"

Ge Daye feigned ignorance: "Why translate? It's already said—"

Jiang Wen raised his voice, demanding clear statements from both Ge Daye and Huang Silang.

"I'm telling you to translate it for me—what does 'surprise' mean?"

Ge Daye kept feigning ignorance: "No need to translate—it's just 'surprise.'"

Yan Li, annoyed, pointed at Jiang Wen and demanded: "Don't you even understand what 'surprise' means?"

Jiang Wen remained unmoved, pressing on: "Translate it. What does 'surprise' mean?"

Ge Daye still tried to dodge: "Surprise…"

"Then translate it for me—what the hell does 'surprise' even mean…"

As Jiang Wen's voice grew louder and the tension thickened, Ge Daye finally cracked under pressure and chose a side, turning to Yan Li.

"What the hell is 'surprise'?"

Seeing this, Yan Li dropped all pretense, his face twisted into a grimacing smile as he spoke.

"Surprise means: in three days, I'll pay you one million eight hundred thousand to go out and suppress the bandits—bring me back my leg. Understood?"

Ge Daye nodded: "That's the surprise."

Jiang Wen continued: "Translate it."

"…"

"Cut."

The assistant director called out. Jiang Wen rushed to the monitor and launched into praise: "Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."

Ge Daye and Yan Li didn't look—they'd rehearsed this scene countless times, shot it again yesterday, and today was the second official take; every pause, rhythm, and expression was flawless. They had full confidence.

Sure enough, after watching, Jiang Wen declared it passed.

Producer Ma Ke was thrilled—he'd been on set these past few days, watching the three of them go at it, certain "Let's Shoot the Bullet" would be a hit. Just these few scenes alone were worth the ticket price.

He somehow got a bottle of champagne and handed out glasses to Yan Li and the others.

"Come on, come on—the box office for 'The Message' broke 250 million. Let's toast."

After pouring half a glass each, Yan Li raised his glass to speak—then suddenly remembered something and turned to Ge Daye.

"Ge Master. High."

Ge Daye played along, smiling as he lowered his glass to clink: "Oh my, Yan Master."

Yan Li turned to Jiang Wen, clinked his glass with him: "Director tough."

Jiang Wen grinned widely, exchanged a glance with Brother Ge, and together with Ma Ke, shouted in unison as if reenacting the Hongmen Banquet: "Yan Master is tall and hard."

"Hahaha."

…

In mid-October, the Golden Rooster Awards were presented, and Young Master Zhou won Best Actress for "Li Mi's Guess."

Prior to this, Young Master Zhou had already won the Golden Horse and Golden Bauhinia for "If. Love," and now with the Golden Rooster, she became the first female actress in the Chinese-language film industry to win all three major awards.

Meanwhile, the double Bing's loss in the Best Actress category for "Painted Skin" dimmed the luster of Fan Xiaopang, who had just broken 250 million at the box office with "The Wind," becoming the first female actress in China to reach a cumulative box office of one billion.

She was even mocked by many of Young Master Zhou's fans, who said Li Bingbing had only won two Popular Audience Awards, while Fan Xiaopang had zero wins at prestigious film awards.

The double Bing's fans weren't passive either—they viciously attacked Young Master Zhou's box office records.

"Dawn 1949" had yet to reach 130 million at the box office; while decent for a domestic film this year, it paled in comparison to the double Bing's numbers.

Young Master Zhou has starred in many films, but only "The Banquet" and "Dawn 1949" have broken 100 million—she is the epitome of artistic merit over commercial appeal.

The fans of the Four Dan and Double Bing are all veterans of battlefield struggles—they know exactly how to stab right in the heart.

The double Bing's fans joined forces and gradually gained the upper hand.

On one hand, they were numerous; on the other, "The Wind" had excellent reviews and the double Bing delivered outstanding performances—everyone assumed they would win some honors.

Young Master Zhou, by contrast, had undeniable award credentials, but reclaiming ground in box office and commercial appeal was no simple task.

Her strength made her, and her strength also undid her!

When Young Master Zhou's image was locked into "Triple Gold Best Actress," many major commercial films stopped approaching her—a fatal blow for a top star.

Aside from a few niche brands that favored individuality and high-end appeal, most commercial brands prioritized influence and reach.

An artist's poor commercial performance was, to some extent, equivalent to being unpopular or having fans with low spending or support.

As previously stated, stars are commodities, especially in today's increasingly commercialized society.

Without commercial clout, the best outcome was transitioning into an artist and earning steady paychecks; the worst was becoming irrelevant, making way for newcomers.

With achievements, fame, and seniority, her status in the industry wouldn't be low—but she wouldn't make much big money either.

Look at past popular female stars to see for yourself.

For example, Pan Hong, who won two Golden Roosters; Gui Yarei, who won two Golden Horses; Hui Yinghong, who won two Golden Bauhinias.

They had stacks of awards, were recognized everywhere, and directors and producers respectfully called them "Teacher"—yet they often ended up playing mothers in TV dramas, with pay and actual status known only to themselves.

Young Master Zhou is currently popular, with undeniable popularity and fame—she doesn't need to worry about these issues yet.

But she's not young anymore; in a few years, if her popularity drops sharply, she may not be able to accept the fall.

Those who are red fight desperately to stay red; those who were once red want to become red again.

Being a dazzling, widely watched superstar is addictive.

Thus, Young Master Zhou is visibly striving to secure more commercial films to boost her box office record and personal influence.

"Detective Dee: The Mystery of the Phantom Flame," produced by Huayi Brothers and directed by Xu Laoguai, was her target.

Originally, Huayi leaned toward her; Li Bingbing had divided loyalties, others were of a lower tier—Young Master Zhou was the most suitable choice.

But after "Dawn 1949" flopped against "The Wind," Huayi began to shift.

As Huayi was about to go public, many future projects and its stock price were directly tied to box office performance—Li Bingbing's loyalty was secondary; box office came first.

Li Bingbing had divided loyalties, but she had also proven her box office draw.

The double Bing was currently on a hot streak—investors and audiences alike backed her.

Moreover, Li Bingbing was eager to leave, while Young Master Zhou had never indicated any intention to stay.

In fact, due to stocks, interests, and personal ties, Li Bingbing maintained some cooperation with Huayi afterward, though she grew closer to Yi An.

Young Master Zhou, by contrast, favored becoming an independent artist with her own studio and had been flirting with figures in Hong Kong's industry.

Given this, Huayi's balance began to tilt.

Now Li Xue was actively lobbying Xu Laoguai, Wang Zhonglei, and others to secure "Detective Dee: The Mystery of the Phantom Flame" for Young Master Zhou; naturally, Young Master Zhou refused to surrender the role, and the two teams clashed fiercely.

The heated fan wars between the double Bing and Young Master Zhou were partly fueled by their competition for this role.

In comparison, Fan Xiaopang was not a main player in this feud—she was busy making money.

"The Wind" was a massive hit, making Fan Xiaopang a one-billion-yuan Best Actress—any actress would have seized the spotlight, let alone Fan Xiaopang, known for her influence and commercial power.

Almost immediately after the "The Wind" promotional tour ended, Fan Xiaopang entered the busy phase of cashing in on her windfall.

Three international premium brands approached her, seeking to make her their first-ever spokesperson for the Chinese and even Asian markets.

Not only were the brands prestigious and numerous, they spanned from luxury goods to daily consumer products.

According to insiders, over thirty advertising and endorsement offers came to Fan Xiaopang in October alone—if all were accepted, total fees could approach one hundred million.

But this was hypothetical; at her level, Fan Xiaopang could no longer chase quantity alone—she had to screen every brand and ad with strict criteria.

Compared to accepting endorsements, Fan Xiaopang's team was now obsessed with raising her value, using this momentum to dramatically increase her worth.

If Fan Xiaopang could land a single brand endorsement worth tens of millions, it would be both profitable and effortless.

Not just commercial value—her film fee was also being pushed up. Though Fan Xiaopang now almost never took roles outside Yi An's projects, the market rate still had to be calculated—it was a form of commercial value.

With box office hits like "Red Cliff," "Painted Skin," and "The Wind," the latter two clearly showcased Fan Xiaopang's impact; combined with her "One-Billion-Yuan Best Actress" title, her team raised her film fee to 8 million.

This price carried some self-inflation.

Since she didn't take outside roles, setting a high price was strategic; the actual market price widely recognized for her was around 5 to 6.5 million.

Don't think that's low—film fees hadn't skyrocketed yet; many top-tier stars earned only in the tens of millions.

Fan Xiaopang's 6.5 million rate placed her among the top three actresses—only Zhang Ziyi and Gong Li ranked higher.

But those two earned internationally, with various accolades and the so-called global market inevitably inflating their rates.

In comparison, the other members of the Four Dan and Double Bing earned between 1 and 2 million, except Li Bingbing, whose fee surged to around 5 million.

The other three earned between 1 and 2 million.

Rumors claimed Xiao Yanzi earned 2 million for "The Wheat Field," Xu Caimei earned over 1 million for "Shinjuku Incident," and Young Master Zhou earned 1.2 million for "Dawn 1949"—though the latter was suspected of being an internal rate.

In terms of acting fees, the Four Dan and Two Bing have already begun to pull apart in earnings.

As for TV drama fees, since most of the Four Dan and Two Bing don't shoot dramas, only Fan Xiaopang has quoted a rate: 250,000 yuan per episode, making him the top female actor in terms of fee gap.

Over the past two years, TV drama fees have kept rising, but many top stars still earn only around 100,000 yuan.

Only big hits like Sun Honglei, Jiang Xin, Deng Chao, Wang Baoqiang, and Hu Ge—with high status and massive popularity—can break this limit, yet even they rarely exceed 200,000 yuan per episode.

Whether Fan Xiaopang's price is worth it isn't the point; the key is he can't be hired—even at 350,000 yuan per episode, you still can't get him.

For films, Fan Xiaopang still accepts outside scripts and will consider starring if the role fits.

For Fan Xiaopang, TV dramas are primarily projects that leverage his influence combined with Yi'an to generate income.

After Yi'an's reorganization, the company is no longer solely Yan Li's; Fan Xiaopang's personal interests and Yan Li's personal interests have been separated from the company's, and many collaborations have become more formalized.

Cash payments, investment ratios, profit-sharing terms—all must be clearly negotiated; not to gain an unfair advantage, but at least not to be disadvantaged.

Guangdong Province, Shenzhen

Having finally completed the latest business engagement, Fan Xiaopang sat in the chauffeured car, holding his phone and looking at Yang Tianzhen.

"Tianzhen, look at this big V—he says I can earn over 100 million this year and might top the Forbes Celebrity List."

Yang Tianzhen glanced a few times, then shook her head with regret.

"The Wind Came Too Late—if it had released in summer, with more time, the film's impact would have fermented better, maybe even pushed for the top."

"You're too optimistic."

Fan Xiaopang shook his head; earning over 100 million a year is truly a chasm for artists at this stage.

Not to mention Forbes Celebrity List counts only performing income—investments and other earnings aren't included.

That raises the bar even higher; among Chinese-language actors, only Jet Li and Jackie Chan have achieved this, and even they are highly unstable.

Fan Xiaopang's related income has risen year by year over the past two years, but he's still far from reaching 100 million annually.

When Yan Li and Li Bingbing discussed it earlier, they estimated Fan Xiaopang's total annual advertising income this year at about 40 million yuan.

At the time, "The Wind" was not counted as a variable.

Now that "The Wind" has exploded and Fan Xiaopang has gained massive attention, his advertising income will surely surge again—but don't expect it to double.

Not to mention this year—even next year, Fan Xiaopang can't guarantee his performing income will break 100 million.

Seeing this, Yang Tianzhen smiled: "Sis, you need to change your mindset. Why keep fixating on the celebrity list? Your goal should be the billionaire list."

"You're flattering me too much."