Chapter 375

Amid applause, the two took the stage in turn, received their trophies, politely deferred to each other, and Li Bingbing spoke first.

At this moment, Li Bingbing was still slightly choked up: “Sorry, I’m a bit emotional.”

“I never expected that on my second visit to the Golden Horse Awards, I’d win an award—thank you to the organizing committee for your recognition, and to everyone involved in ‘The Message.’”

“I also want to thank Yan Li; after knowing him for so many years, he has always supported and helped me wholeheartedly—without him, there would be no me today. I’m lucky to have met him.”

“I also want to thank Bingbing, and congratulate her on winning this trophy. For ‘Painted Skin’ and ‘The Message,’ we had our conflicts, but we also encouraged each other, learned from each other, grew together, and ultimately stood on this stage side by side—this is the best possible ending.”

“I also want to thank my agent, my sister Li Xue, and all my team and fans—for your constant companionship.”

“...”

Li Bingbing’s speech was simple—nothing but gratitude, even thanking Huayi’s Two Wangs.

They must have felt somewhat relieved, given how things looked before—Li Bingbing might as well have joined Yian.

Next came Fan Xiaopang; she wasn’t as emotional or choked up as Li Bingbing, but her words were heartfelt.

She first thanked her team, crew, fans, and the organizing committee, and also mentioned Li Bingbing.

“We’ve known each other for over a decade—back then, the Two Bingbing were just obscure minor roles.”

“Along this journey, we’ve argued, hated, collaborated, broken up, schemed against each other, and fought side by side—we’ve been rivals and friends.”

“Because of each other, we became our best selves—Li Bingbing can’t do without Fan Bingbing, and Fan Bingbing can’t do without Li Bingbing.”

“Thank you for being there.”

With that, Fan Xiaopang and Li Bingbing embraced, and the audience erupted in thunderous applause.

No one expected that on this stage, the Two Bingbing—who usually clashed fiercely—would publicly thank each other with such sincerity and emotion.

Just as they said, the Two Bingbing had competition and cooperation, rivalry and mutual support—neither could exist without the other.

Double egg, dual queens crowned—mutual confessions, a century-scale “reconciliation.”

This scene was too beautiful—it was destined to become a brilliant highlight in Golden Horse history and even entertainment history.

Fan Xiaopang also didn’t forget Yan Li: “On the flight to Taiwan, I read a book with a line I loved deeply: ‘I don’t want stars in the sky—I only want happiness on earth. Thank you, my Mr. Yan.’”

The crowd roared with cheers; the camera instantly zoomed in on Yan Li, who smiled and clapped.

He knew these two women weren’t honest—they always added extra lines.

If Li Bingbing’s words could still be interpreted as Yan Li being her confidant or a career benefactor, Fan Xiaopang’s was an unambiguous confession.

If Qin Lan, Dong Xuan, and the others were watching TV right now, they’d probably go into labor.

So shameless—you get both career and love, what are we?!”

As they stepped down, Yan Li rose to greet them; Li Bingbing hugged him, and Fan Xiaopang practically threw herself into his arms—if not for a thread of restraint, she’d have kissed him already.

Yan Li remained calm—everyone knew about Fan Xiaopang and the Two Bingbing.

Whether Fan Xiaopang confessed or not didn’t change the public’s perception of their relationship—it was just more gossip over tea and meals.

Well, Fan Xiaopang might face some minor backlash, but with the Golden Horse Best Actress trophy in hand, it was just a slight ripple.

For some, winning Best Actor or Actress is just an award; for others, it’s an achievement that elevates status and resources; for others, it directly transforms their career.

Take Fan Xiaopang—she’s now one of the nation’s most popular female stars, with unmatched commercial success and leading box office numbers, top national recognition and popularity.

Internationally, she’s not outstanding, but she’s respectable, especially across Asia, where she wields considerable influence.

Her two only weaknesses: public perception and awards.

Fan Xiaopang’s poor public perception stems from two sources: one is her relationship with Yan Li—whether it’s his rise or the multiple-women-one-man drama—it’s all bad press, and it’s her biggest scandal, impossible to avoid.

The other is her excessive marketing and exposure, sometimes using aggressive tactics that inevitably provoke backlash.

But because Yian consciously controlled it, while controversy was inevitable, her public image wasn’t especially bad.

More importantly, the other big flowers weren’t much better.

Fan Xiaopang’s flaws were, among the general public, even slightly above average.

As for awards, as mentioned before, Fan Xiaopang was the only one among the Four Dan and Two Bingbing without any major awards.

Zhou Zhang? She won awards until her hands were tired. Li Bingbing had two Hundred Flowers Best Actress awards. Even the weakest, Xu Caiyu and the box-office curse Xiao Yanzi, had won a Hundred Flowers Best Actress and a Huabiao Best Actress and Shanghai Film Festival Golden Goblet Best Actress respectively.

When the Four Dan and Two Bingbing feuded, everyone targeted Fan Xiaopang, calling her a celebrity, not an actress—a mere ornament, the worst actress among the big flowers, and so on.

After ‘Painted Skin’ and ‘The Message,’ because Fan Xiaopang performed well, the “ornament” label grew outdated—but without a real award, she still couldn’t stand firm.

Today, with her Golden Horse Best Actress win, Fan Xiaopang escaped her bottom-rung predicament and surged into the middle tier of the Four Dan and Two Bingbing.

Though still far behind Zhou Zhang, and even less than her old rival Li Bingbing, at least she wasn’t empty-handed anymore.

So this Golden Horse Best Actress trophy meant a great deal to Fan Xiaopang—it filled a major gap in her resume and began to elevate her personal image and brand value, raising her worth across the board.

In short, she became more valuable.

Previously, with zero major awards, Fan Xiaopang already pressured the other big flowers; now, with the Golden Horse Best Actress in hand, no one could imagine what she’d do next.

While the audience was still immersed in the afterglow of the Two Bingbing’s dual win, the Golden Horse Awards revealed the Best Actor winner.

Huang Bao, ‘Dogtooth’

After the announcement, Huang Bao looked stunned; only when Guan Hu pulled him to celebrate did he snap out of it.

Yan Li had told him the company had done PR for him—he had a chance to win—but at the time, it wasn’t certain he’d win, so the words were vague.

Before arriving, Huang Bao had entertained hopes, but after seeing the Two Bingbing win together, he’d already given up.

He thought Yian couldn’t possibly sweep both Best Actor and Best Actress.

Besides, the Best Supporting Actor and Best Supporting Actress had already gone to mainlanders Wang Xueqi and Hong Kong’s Angie Cheong—the Golden Horse Awards couldn’t leave no award for Taiwanese actors.

But he never expected such a sudden surprise—after the Two Bingbing won the double egg, Yan Li still managed to get him a Golden Horse Best Actor.

Huang Bao, usually eloquent, stumbled slightly at first, but his experience helped him recover quickly.

He told his story like a joke—how he’d just entered the Beijing Film Academy, mocked his own looks, then concluded: “Women fear marrying the wrong man, men fear choosing the wrong profession—but today proves I chose right.”

Then came thanks, focusing on three benefactors.

Guan Hu, who cast him in his first film, ‘Dogtooth’; Ning Hao, the director who made him truly famous and brought him into public view; and Yan Li, his boss’s support and help.

He joked about Yan Li and the Two Bingbing: “I might be speaking too lightly—I actually wanted to express deeper admiration for my boss, but I’m afraid President Yan will have nightmares, and I’m even more afraid Bingbing will come after me.”

Yan Li smiled and shook his head; Fan Xiaopang laughed uncontrollably; Li Bingbing smiled and clapped.

Huang Bao’s use of “Bingbing” was clever—no one knew which Bingbing he meant.

From Yian’s perspective, it was clearly Fan Xiaopang—even a subtle compliment to the boss’s wife, a show of loyalty—but since he didn’t specify, he didn’t offend Li Bingbing.

After stepping down, Huang Bao embraced each of the three he thanked; Ning Hao was farther away, so he made a special detour to reach him.

“Two Best Actresses and one Best Actor—Yian is showing off now.”

Fan Xiaopang didn’t watch the rest of the ceremony—the Best Picture and Best Director awards. Since Best Actor and Best Actress went to mainlanders, they couldn’t leave everything empty.

“It’s showing off—and it’s controversy.”

Yan Li could foresee that the double egg plus sweeping Best Actor and Best Actress would invite endless criticism—even his own presence might be seen as manipulating the awards.

But Yan Li didn’t care—he dared to do this, so he wasn’t afraid of the controversy.

Yian wants to go public, wants to be the industry leader—it must demonstrate strength in every aspect: box office, awards, exposure—all part of proving Yian’s hard performance and hard power.

Don’t fear controversy—nothing is without controversy. The key is to gain benefits amid controversy.

Moreover, Yan Li believed that even with controversy, the negative impact wouldn’t be too severe, because both the Two Bingbing and Huang Bao were already huge favorites.

The Two Bingbing had high expectations before; their only real rival was Zhou Young Master, but he was a two-time winner, making his win harder—so the Two Bingbing winning was understandable.

Huang Bao versus Zhang Jiahuai from ‘The Message’—either could have won; some might have sympathized with Zhang, but it wasn’t a scandal.

Yan Li wouldn’t force an actor to win—that would cause too much backlash.

If the opportunity was right or the competition was close, he’d strike—temporary storms would soon pass, leaving only benefits.

The entertainment industry is about dividing the cake—if Yan Li holds the knife, should he just wait for others to hand him a slice?

…

After the ceremony, a farewell banquet was held.

The newly crowned Best Actor and Best Actresses, holding their trophies, posed for photos, gave media interviews; Yan Li chatted with the jury chair Hou Hsiao-hsien and several key figures, expressing his gratitude.

In recent years, Chinese-language cinema has changed: mainland films have surged, Hong Kong films have declined, and Taiwanese films have retreated into self-isolation.

This year’s Golden Horse acting awards were mostly swept by mainlanders, a few went to Hong Kong, and all Taiwanese actors went home empty-handed.

Though other reasons existed, the most important was the decline of Taiwanese cinema.

Taiwanese film circles are actively trying to reverse this trend.

But the local market is too small to support costs, and massive talent migration to the mainland has made it impossible for Taiwanese cinema to resist the tide—either self-indulgence or cross-strait integration: the localist and northward factions.

Currently, the northward faction holds absolute dominance, as shown by the Golden Horse Awards’ recent trends.

The Golden Horse Awards serve as a submission of allegiance, exchanging support for Taiwan’s TV and film industry; Yian, as the mainland’s leader, is a prime target for courting.

Personally, Yan Li had little affection for certain Taiwanese capital and actors.

But now, cross-strait relations are in a honeymoon phase—he couldn’t defy the mainstream direction; the hat would be too heavy for him to bear.

If so, he’d cooperate when needed, but set higher thresholds and claim more benefits.

He still had room to maneuver within this flexibility.

At the banquet, Hou Hsiao-hsien revealed to reporters why this year’s Golden Horse Awards produced a double egg.

In the Best Actress race, the jury voted in multiple rounds, always tied by one vote, alternating back and forth.

Under these circumstances, awarding either one would be unfair, so the jury decided to vote again—the result remained identical, and they unanimously agreed to award two Golden Horse Best Actress trophies.

Notably, Huang Bao and Zhang Jiahuai initially faced the same situation as the Two Bingbing.

But perhaps because Best Actress was already a double egg, some jurors made new choices in the re-vote, and Huang Bao narrowly won.

Well, that’s the official explanation.

Award selections like this are highly subjective; jurors are influenced by many factors, hence the so-called “jury tearing up awards” phenomenon.