Chapter 59: The Desperate Situation of Yan Li

"Hua-jie, see you later."

Yan Li saw Wang Jinghua off into the car; she still seemed reluctant, and couldn't help adding two more words.

"Xiao Yan, go home and think it over again. If you don't want to be an agent, we can start by signing you as an artist first—my terms are definitely the best in Jingcheng."

"Got it, I'll think it over again. Take care on your way."

Yan Li nodded, exchanged a greeting with Tong Dawei, and watched the two leave in the car.

On the road

Tong Dawei finally couldn't hold back his curiosity: "Hua-jie, why did you suddenly think of making Yan Li your agent—and even assign me to him?"

"Because he's capable."

Wang Jinghua rubbed her tired eyes, sighing: "This kid talked with me for so long—outwardly respectful, but every word was perfectly guarded. I spilled all my cards, yet still couldn't fully read his intentions."

"Before, I thought you and others might've exaggerated. Now that I've dealt with him, I know he truly lives up to his reputation."

Tong Dawei nodded in agreement: "Now that you mention it, I also think Yan Li's mind is sharp."

When he accidentally met Boss Shi, most newbies would've scrambled to curry favor with a big shot like him, but Yan Li distanced himself immediately after brief contact.

Looking back now, Tong Dawei suspected Yan Li had sized up Boss Shi's situation almost from the first glance.

Not only is his mind sharp—his eyes are piercing too!

The more Tong Dawei thought about it, the more he realized Yan Li truly had skills; plus, with their personal friendship, working together wouldn't be bad.

"Then Hua-jie, I'll try to persuade him for you later."

"Mm."

Wang Jinghua nodded, but held little hope—she hadn't succeeded, so Tong Dawei stood no chance.

After this encounter, she felt Yan Li was firmly set in his ways, not someone who'd change his mind easily.

Too young, too impulsive, too confident!

In this world, talent alone doesn't guarantee success. Fine—let him hit a wall first, then I'll extend an olive branch. But by then, the terms won't be nearly as good as now.

————

Back at Jimenli Community, only Lin Jiachuan was home; Zhang Songwen and Zhou Yi had been called by a production team for an audition.

Yan Li drank some water and asked curiously: "Jiachuan, why didn't you go to the audition too?"

"I submitted my resume—they didn't take me."

Lin Jiachuan's tone was disappointed; Yan Li had already guessed, but still frowned upon hearing it.

This time he returned to Jingcheng, the dorm mates reunited; drinking and catching up went without saying, and without long-distance call charges, they all detailed their lives since graduation.

Only then did Yan Li realize that, over the past half-year, while he had steadily risen, the others had all struggled.

Zhou Yi was relatively better—he lived at home, saved on expenses, occasionally got some allowance; life wasn't easy, but far from desperate.

Zhang Songwen and Lin Jiachuan were far worse!

Their families weren't in Jingcheng, and they were too embarrassed to ask their parents for money after graduation, so they had to support themselves.

But trying to make it in Jingcheng? That's no easy feat.

Rent, transportation, food, clothing, and miscellaneous expenses—even if you scrimped and saved, you still needed several hundred yuan a month, sometimes over a thousand; loosen your grip a bit, and thousands vanished like play.

Zhang and Lin had worked a few months in the behind-the-scenes crew of a production team in Lianshi and earned some money.

But after returning to Jingcheng, they hadn't found any decent work, and gradually their income couldn't cover expenses; if they kept going like this, they'd barely make it through the next rent cycle.

Before Yan Li returned, Zhang Songwen had considered returning to Beijing Film Academy for a teaching assistant job—he'd been class president and student union chair, so he knew some people.

As a teaching assistant, he'd get a monthly subsidy of a thousand or so, a steady income, and the title would sound good, making it easier to network and find gigs.

Lin Jiachuan had weaker connections and poorer grades, so becoming a teaching assistant at Beijing Film Academy was unlikely—he could only take odd jobs here and there.

Seeing his buddies in such a pitiful state, Yan Li couldn't just stand by.

He wasn't powerful enough to directly refer them to production teams.

He needed the right opportunity—and these were hard-won connections; using them for minor roles felt wasteful.

So Yan Li quietly used his intelligence network to gather scattered information on suitable productions and roles, then let Zhou, Zhang, and Lin apply themselves.

It might not succeed, but at least it was targeted—far better than their previous blind, random attempts.

Under Yan Li's guidance, Zhou Yi had already secured a small role, entering the team next month; Zhang Songwen's chances of getting auditions were steadily rising.

Before, when Zhang and Lin went to production teams, they'd just hand in a resume and photo, then leave everything to fate—barely ever getting an audition.

Now, getting an audition meant they had a real shot at landing a role; even if they failed, they'd leave an impression on casting staff, maybe remembered next time a fitting role came up.

Zhou Yi had broken through, Zhang Songwen was improving, but Lin Jiachuan still hadn't opened any doors, and received the fewest audition opportunities.

Yan Li, along with Lin Jiachuan, Zhou, and Zhang, had analyzed it and concluded it was because Lin himself was too… ordinary.

Among the group's appearances, Yan Li was best, Zhou Yi second, Lin Jiachuan and Zhang Songwen the worst.

But although Zhang Songwen looked plain, he was fair-skinned and carried a scholarly air; his acting was better, and he spoke Cantonese—enough to fit some roles.

Lin Jiachuan's qualities weren't bad, but nothing stood out—he had no clear distinguishing traits.

That was a serious problem!

Yan Li had once muttered that Zhang Weijian's acting style was too distinctive—but mainly because he was lazy, formulaic, and trapped himself in repetitive roles, harming his long-term development.

Yet regarding actors having strong personal styles in general, Yan Li, though somewhat reserved, still held a positive view.

Because if an actor has no distinctive traits, audiences won't remember them—they'll die even harder.

Lin Jiachuan's misfortune lay precisely here: "ordinary" was being generous; he was just average, lacked competitiveness, and was often ignored.

"Bro, do you think I'm not cut out to be an actor?"

Lin Jiachuan, battered repeatedly, had lost confidence and even considered switching careers.

"Don't say that."

Yan Li hugged Lin Jiachuan and comforted him: "We know your abilities. You just need an opportunity—don't rush, take it slow."

As previously mentioned, the four brothers got along well, but their closeness varied: Zhou and Zhang were the closest, while Yan Li and Lin Jiachuan were more intimate—otherwise, Dong Xuan wouldn't have chosen him as a mole in the first place.

Right now, Lin Jiachuan is having a hard time, and Yan Li can't just sit and watch.

Opportunities won't come easily for now, so let's first solve the problem of food.

Yan Li pondered for a while and gave Lin Jiachuan two choices.

First, Yan Li would lend him money—straightforward and clean.

Second, Lin Jiachuan could work for Yan Li and receive a salary.

Yan Li had long wanted an assistant but hadn't found a suitable candidate; he could let Lin Jiachuan take the role for now.

There was actually a third option: Yan Li could get them involved in stocks.

But that field carried too much risk—if they made money, all was fine; if they lost, it would be trouble.

Since childhood, Yan Li had seen plenty of relatives and friends go into business together, starting as close as family, then fighting violently, and finally becoming bitter enemies who cut off all contact.

So he would never lightly enter business with friends or relatives.

Not to mention stocks—a high-risk venture that might expose his "special" abilities.

Helping his brother was fine, but he didn't want to be a babysitter, and he certainly couldn't risk himself.

"I choose the second option."

Lin Jiachuan's choice didn't surprise Yan Li—if Lin Jiachuan truly needed money, he didn't need to borrow; he could just grit his teeth and call home.

His father was a professional screenwriter and author; while not wealthy, he could easily handle food and lodging.

Working for Yan Li, though still relying on Yan Li's support, meant he was offering labor in return—not just taking money for free—and that would make him feel better inside.

Besides, Yan Li had said that once they joined the production, if an opportunity arose, he'd recommend Lin Jiachuan for a role.

Such cases existed in the industry—some actors had risen from behind the scenes to the front by serving as assistants or agents for celebrity friends and seizing opportunities.

This was originally advice Wang Jinghua had given Yan Li, and he had now adaptively applied it to Lin Jiachuan.

Lin Jiachuan adapted to work mode quickly.

He felt the water before him had grown cold, immediately replaced it with hot water, and obediently massaged Yan Li's shoulders.

Yan Li enjoyed the massage, and Lin Jiachuan raised a new question: "Brother Yan, since you're not joining the production, I can't just idle every day—how about I help you sell braised meat?"

Previously, Yan Li and Zhou Yi had run a braised meat business; Lin and Zhang both knew about it, and when they returned this time, they'd tasted it and were utterly amazed.

But now that Yan Li was doing well with stocks, he looked down on the profits from selling braised meat at a stall.

"You won't be idle—tomorrow, come with me to the Administration for Industry and Commerce to help me handle the paperwork."

"Brother, you're really starting a company?"

"Mm. Having a company makes things easier."

(End of Chapter)