Chapter 393

Huayi, headquarters

Wang Zhonglei sipped his coffee; the bitterness in his mouth matched his mood.

“Bro, I checked this morning—Yi’an’s up again.”

Wang Zhongjun remained calm; he’d already anticipated this, even felt a touch of relief.

“Not bad—at least it didn’t spike three digits.”

Yan Li’s halo is too strong, Yi’an’s advantages are too great, the stories spun around it too numerous—if he truly wanted to weave a wild narrative, turning Yi’an into a speculative stock beyond market comprehension wouldn’t be hard at all.

But for reasons unknown, Yi’an later deliberately toned down its profile, keeping its rise within public tolerance.

Wang Zhongjun was still grateful: Huayi’s market cap still hovered around ten billion.

Though far behind Yi’an, it could still barely hold second place—but if Yi’an surged to hundreds of billions, Huayi would be completely sidelined.

“Bro, I talked to Manager Ma yesterday—he said Yi’an’s rise was deliberately suppressed by Yan Li.”

Wang Zhongjun nodded: “I felt the same, but I’m not sure what Yan Li’s intentions are.”

“I asked Ma—he shared his analysis with me. I think it’s solid.”

Wang Zhonglei relayed Jack Ma’s words: Jack Ma believed Yan Li was always cautious, acting only after thorough planning.

This was evident in his investments and maneuvers—he always considered failure before victory, never chased massive gains, knew when to quit, preferred smaller profits over unnecessary risk.

If Yi’an became a speculative stock with a market cap of several hundred billion, it would be lifted too high to come down.

Remember, the entire cultural entertainment industry is only two to three hundred billion in size—this market simply cannot accommodate a behemoth like Yi’an.

A market cap of several hundred billion means Yi’an is overextending market optimism for the future of entertainment and film, creating a false prosperity disconnected from reality—the so-called bubble.

Once a bubble forms, Yi’an must grow rapidly, racing against the bubble itself.

Not just grow itself, but at all costs push the entire industry upward, turning the bubble from illusion into reality.

It sounds promising—if Yan Li pushes hard enough to outpace the bubble, Yi’an becomes a speculative stock, the company thrives, benefits outweigh risks.

But setting aside the possibility of collapse if they fail to outrun it, the critical issue is that bubbles tend to grow ever larger.

At two hundred billion, it’s inflated to several hundred; by the time it reaches several hundred, it’s already blown to a thousand, even several thousand.

By then, even if Yan Li stomps the brakes until sparks fly, it won’t matter—once the market goes wild, even the state can’t stop it.

The entertainment and film sector excels in influence but has limited scale, with clear peaks, stagnation, and inevitable declines.

Once the market cools, Yi’an, dragged along at breakneck speed, will face a predictable fate.

And as Yi’an’s actual controller, even if it wasn’t Yan Li’s intent, how could he wash his hands clean of it all?

Yan Li doesn’t just have Yi’an—he also has the more promising Weibo, and Yan Ye Capital, which invests in multiple hot companies—he has no reason to go all-in on a high-stakes gamble.

Yi’an is currently popular, but not wildly so—it remains under Yan Li’s control.

By gradually building his entertainment empire with Weibo, Tudou, and others, letting it rise steadily with market growth, the foundation becomes firmer, risks lower, hidden dangers fewer—why not do it this way?

You can criticize Yan Li’s approach as lacking boldness, too conservative.

But when Yi’an stabilizes, weathering storms, watching other rushed companies crash, people will praise him for his foresight and long-term vision.

Jack Ma ended his remarks with a touch of envy—Yan Li had backup plans, a complete industrial chain, a deep and wide moat, so he could layout calmly.

Most companies and entrepreneurs lack these conditions.

In fact, many people and companies don’t want to gamble, but are pressured by external forces and circumstances, forced into all-or-nothing bets.

Market competition is too brutal—flooring the accelerator might cause a crash or a collision, but hitting the brakes risks being rear-ended.

Avoiding action due to fear is unwise—first survive, then think about the future.

Jack Ma’s reflections stirred deep sighs from the two Wangs at Huayi.

Some can gamble but choose not to. Some don’t want to gamble but are forced to. Others, like us, don’t even have the right to gamble.

Huayi’s previous trajectory had a hint of speculative stock behavior, but with Yi’an’s listing, the true industry ceiling was set—Yi’an stands ahead, so while Huayi can bask in the industry’s momentum, it’s impossible to make a bold leap.

Not just Huayi—every listed company in the industry is affected, unless it can surpass Yi’an in scale and strength.

In a way, Yan Li’s caution isn’t good for Huayi—the two Wangs hoped Yi’an would surge, so Huayi could ride the wave too.

Even if the bubble burst and Huayi collapsed along with it, with Yi’an and Yan Li taking the front, the impact wouldn’t be as severe.

Even if Huayi fell, the two brothers could still profit handsomely during the ride.

Unfortunately, Yan Li is too steady—Huayi must abandon fantasy and focus on steady growth.

“Zhonglei, find out if Yi’an’s celebration allows outsiders to attend—I’ll go in person. If not, prepare a generous gift, then schedule a visit.”

Wang Zhongjun instructed his brother; Wang Zhonglei nodded silently.

After Yi’an’s listing, its status as industry leader is unquestionable, and it leads competitors by a wide margin—such a dominant company wields immense influence within the industry and can propose or even set industry rules.

Though Huayi remains Yi’an’s rival, circumstances favor the stronger—its weaker position makes humility advantageous.

Most crucially, if relations sour, Huayi genuinely fears Yi’an, once powerful, will suppress or even eliminate it.

You don’t hit someone who smiles at you—no matter what they think privately, outwardly they must show proper respect.

Wang Zhonglei went out to handle the matter; Wang Zhongjun sighed and quietly began working.

In Yan Li’s intelligence on Huayi’s future, Wang Zhongjun post-listing was remarkably relaxed.

At his most relaxed, Wang Zhongjun spent his days sleeping in, then heading to Sanlitun to play poker with friends, riding horses on weekends, tending trees, and indulging in his personal passion: art collecting.

Even Jack Ma half-joked, half-marveled: Wang Zhongjun was the laziest CEO he’d ever met.

But now, with Yi’an looming like a mountain and rival film companies watching hungrily, Huayi’s industry advantage is unclear, and competition is fierce.

Wang Zhongjun can’t afford to be relaxed anymore—not only can he no longer abandon the company for poker, he’s working late every day, his hair turning gray in streaks from stress.

Yet, by misfortune’s grace, the two Wangs still have ability, their mindset remains grounded, they work hard—Huayi, though nowhere near Yi’an, still grows well, and so far no other company threatens its second-place position.

…

The two Wangs of Huayi felt the pressure, worked diligently to solidify Huayi’s position, hoping to at least narrow the gap with Yi’an.

For other film companies, competing with Yi’an isn’t yet a concern—they feel mostly exhilarated by Yi’an’s listing.

Huayi had already opened everyone’s eyes, unlocking the door to capitalization in the entertainment world.

Yi’an’s listing ignited everyone’s passion completely.

Compared to Huayi, Yi’an created more and more dazzling billionaires.

Yan Li alone made tens of billions; Yi’an’s investment firms reaped massive profits; numerous stars became billionaires, and tens of millions of millionaires emerged.

Film company bosses drooled, stars envied and resented, capital of all kinds rushed in.

Suddenly, the entire entertainment world surged with upheaval, gathering heroes and demons alike, roaring with chaos, impossible to quiet.

During this period, the central figure behind this industry storm, Yan Li, quietly returned to Beijing after handling post-listing matters.

Fuli City, bedroom

“Yan Jingxin, call Dad.”

Yan Li poked his eldest son’s chubby cheek, coaxing him to say “Dad”; the boy glanced at his father with half-closed eyes, then turned away, eyes shut.

“...”

Yan Li was speechless; Qin Lan burst into laughter; Zhang Hong also chuckled, scolding her own son.

“He hasn’t even reached a month—how can he say ‘Dad’?”

“Even just babbling something would do.”

Yan Li poked again, but the boy still ignored him—perhaps he was just shy.

“Just spend more time with him—he’ll get used to it.”

Zhang Hong comforted him, then praised the child: “My grandson is perfect—doesn’t cry, doesn’t fuss, doesn’t cling—he’s quiet and gentle, utterly adorable.”

Qin Lan nodded; though this was her first time being a mother, she had friends who’d given birth—Ma Yi’s child wasn’t like this.

Compared to them, Young Master Yan was indeed easier.

Or perhaps he’s just too young—many newborns are easy to handle at first, then become troublesome as they grow.

After playing a while, the baby grew tired and fell asleep; Zhang Hong stayed to watch her grandson, shooing Yan Li and Qin Lan out of the room.

“Is my mom okay at home?”

Yan Li asked; there was a postnatal nurse, a maid, and Qin’s mother already there.

But Zhang Hong missed her grandson and visited daily, handling everything herself—Yan Li asked Qin Lan because he worried she dared not defy Zhang Hong and suffered in silence.

“It’s fine—Mom listens to the doctor and nurse, she’s just overly careful with the baby.”

Such an attitude easily leads to indulgence; Qin Lan couldn’t say it outright, so she used Yan Li to plant a warning.

“It’s her first time being a grandmother—she’s excited now; it’ll pass.”

Yan Li told Qin Lan not to stress—Dong Xuan would give birth in two or three months; then Zhang Hong would be running between two households, and over time, she’d naturally become less intense.

Qin Lan nodded, then asked about Dong Xuan—they hadn’t seen each other since the New Year.

She’d been too busy giving birth to pay attention to Dong Xuan; now she wanted to share some advice.

“Well, she probably doesn’t need you worrying.”

Yan Li shook his head—not only did he hire professionals for Dong Xuan, but there was also Guan Yue.