Chapter 42: A Well-Connected Local Tyrant—"Manager" Yan Li

Li Peng was a native of Taiwan and quite a prominent figure in the Taiwanese film and television industry, having participated in the production of multiple film and television works.

Following the turn of the millennium, film and television teams from Hong Kong and Taiwan rushed to the mainland in droves, and Li Peng naturally followed the trend.

However, unlike the melodramatic romance dramas he had previously produced, Li Peng set his sights on a burgeoning and immensely popular genre upon arriving in the mainland: the Wuxia drama.

As it happened, Li Peng held the copyright to a ready-made Wuxia novel in his hands—*Cold Moon, Lone Star Sword*.

This novel enjoyed a certain reputation in Taiwan, having been adapted into a feature film of the same name as early as the 1970s, followed by a television series adaptation in the 1980s.

Li Peng himself had been one of the directors of that television adaptation, which notably starred the "Roaring Master" Ma Jingtao among its lead cast.

Buoyed by this prior success, Li Peng commissioned a screenwriter to draft a brand-new script.

While the general background of the story remained largely unchanged, the plot underwent substantial revisions, and many characters were given new names. For instance, the female protagonist "Bai Qiushuang" was transformed into "Shangguan Yan," and the second male lead "Qin Bin" was changed to "Ouyang Mingri," bringing the overall narrative closer to current market trends and audience preferences.

With the script completed, Li Peng pulled strings through various channels and secured funding, finally assembling the crew. He was now just waiting for an auspicious day to commence filming.

Out of nowhere, the female lead, Xiao Qiang—with whom terms had already been satisfactorily discussed—suddenly called to announce that she was dropping out!

This news came as a bolt from the blue for Li Peng and the production team.

Li Peng personally flew over to meet with Xiao Qiang, but her attitude remained resolute, and all his attempts to persuade her failed.

Frustrated and furious, Li Peng vowed in a fit of anger that he would rather use complete newcomers than rely on established stars.

Acting on a friend's suggestion, Li Peng brought his team to Beijing.

Their initial plan was to scout several arts academies, and if no suitable candidates emerged, to widen the search among the pool of Beijing-drifting background actors.

Beijing was currently the mainland's film and television hub, teeming with countless young actors desperate for fame. Surely, they could unearth at least one promising talent.

...

In a hotel room, Li Peng was discussing how to contact the arts institutions with his accompanying assistant and associate director when his cell phone suddenly rang.

Paying no heed to the unfamiliar number, Li Peng answered directly, "Hello?"

"Hello, may I ask if this is President Li of Zhonglu Film and Television?"

"I am. Who is this?"

"Hello, President Li. My name is Yan Li. I currently take on small agency jobs in the industry and also work as a manager. I heard you are looking for actors, and I wanted to ask if you might need any assistance?"

Li Peng frowned. "How did you know I was looking for actors?"

He had only just arrived in Beijing, and word certainly hadn't leaked out yet!

The voice on the other end paused before answering smoothly, "To be frank with you, I have a few friends in Shanghai who happened to catch wind of your plans, which is why I'm taking the liberty of recommending myself."

Only then did the realization dawn on Li Peng. His production team hadn't just sent a contingent to Beijing; they had dispatched another group to Shanghai even earlier. Word must have slipped through someone who had connected the dots.

Still, as a seasoned veteran of the industry, he was no stranger to such messy entanglements.

Li Peng had always maintained a cautious and guarded stance toward strangers who offered their services out of the blue, so he chose not to entertain the offer.

"Sorry, we don't need any help."

Undeterred, the man on the other end named Yan Li continued in a gentle tone, "President Li, please don't misunderstand. I mean no harm. Since you are strangers in a strange land here in Beijing, having a local insider to lend a hand could make things much easier."

"I don't have any extraordinary skills, but I do have a sharp ear for news and a wide network of connections."

"I know people across various schools like Beijing Film Academy, the Central Academy of Drama, the PLA Academy of Art, and the Communication University of China. Several major casting agents and coordinators for Beijing's drifting actors are also friends of mine. If you have any needs, I can help connect you."

"Rest assured, you don't need to worry about any hidden catches. Business is business; even if a deal doesn't go through, goodwill remains. Consider it a way to make a new acquaintance. With frequent interactions down the road, opportunities for collaboration will naturally follow."

"..."

Li Peng felt a slight twinge of temptation.

For this person to find out about his presence in Beijing so quickly suggested he truly was well-informed.

Moreover, speaking with such confidence implied he wielded considerable clout in the capital.

Their own connections in Beijing were indeed limited, and having such a well-connected local guide would undoubtedly streamline matters considerably.

Besides, he hadn't committed to anything yet. At worst, he could toss out a small agency fee or fob him off with a couple of minor supporting roles, dangling the prospect of future projects to keep him hooked.

As an old hand at this game, Li Peng quickly weighed the pros and cons and decided to grant the man a meeting.

Given that their small production crew carried little weight or renown in the industry, it was unlikely that cutthroats or swindlers would target them for financial gain.

Playing it safe and avoiding the hotel, Li Peng and his assistant selected a nearby café for the rendezvous.

Before long, a sharp-looking young man dressed in a button-down shirt and dress trousers walked through the doors and approached their table.

"Hello, President Li. I'm Yan Li, the one who spoke with you earlier."

Li Peng was somewhat surprised. Not only was Yan Li remarkably young, but his appearance was also striking enough to work as an actor himself. Why on earth was he dabbling in this line of work?

"Ah, just trying to make a living," Yan Li explained casually.

He offered a brief explanation: he had previously worked as an actor, but his career had been mediocre, leading him to take on backstage and part-time roles.

Such circumstances were commonplace in the industry, and Li Peng accepted the explanation without missing a beat.

It was merely a pity; the mainland was brimming with talent, and for someone with such fine physical conditions to go uncast felt somewhat wasteful.

Unaware of Li Peng's internal sigh of sympathy, Yan Li ordered a glass of water and began sweet-talking him.

...

Ever since obtaining the intel, Yan Li had been plotting how to forge a connection with the *Snow Flowering Goddess Blade* production team and secure the female lead role for Dong Xuan.

If Dong Xuan were simply to submit her resume blindly, the unpredictability would be too high, and Yan Li worried she might fall victim to the murky waters of the industry and suffer mistreatment.

Therefore, Yan Li wanted to test the waters personally to gauge whether the crew was reputable. If they were, he would maneuver Dong Xuan into the position himself.

Armed with the information he had gathered, Yan Li had reached out directly to Li Peng.

As for why he disguised himself as an intermediary and manager, the reason was simple: approaching such a producer purely as an actor placed one at a natural disadvantage and invited mistrust.

By adopting a different identity, everything would fall naturally into place.

For instance, had Yan Li claimed to be a local insider simply as an actor, it would lack persuasion. But posing as an agent and broker instantly lent his words immense credibility.

Listening to Yan Li speak eloquently about the unwritten rules and insider gossip of the Beijing entertainment circle, Li Peng's trust grew by another thirty percent.

This fellow genuinely was an influential insider equipped with leverage and connections!

The two quickly agreed to visit the Beijing Film Academy together to scout for actors. Relaxing visibly, Li Peng decided to throw him a bone.

"You can send me the portfolios of the artists under your management. If any fit the bill, we'll give them priority consideration."

"Thank you, President Li. If it's convenient for you, I actually brought someone along."

This was precisely what Yan Li had been waiting for. With Li Peng's consent, he made a quick phone call.

Moments later, Dong Xuan—sporting a neat ponytail, a plain white T-shirt, and blue jeans—stepped into the café.

"President Li, this is the artist I represent, Dong Xuan. She's a junior at the Beijing Film Academy, blessed with a great look and temperament. As a dance major by training, her martial arts choreography is exceptionally fluid and graceful."

Gazing at Dong Xuan standing beside Yan Li, Li Peng felt a brief surge of awe.

Her appearance and aura bore an uncanny resemblance to the Shangguan Yan he had envisioned in his mind!

Noticing Li Peng's astonished expression, Yan Li picked up his glass and took a quiet sip of water.

How could she *not* resemble her?!

Her expression, temperament, and even her outfit had been meticulously tailored by him, using system intelligence to match Li Peng's exact ideal for the female lead.

Still, Li Peng was a wily old fox who preferred not to bare his hand too early. He quickly reined in his emotions and offered a measured, boilerplate compliment.

"Not bad. We'll take her into consideration."

"I'll have to trouble you to look out for her, then."

Undiscouraged, Yan Li had never intended to secure the female lead role for Dong Xuan in a single stroke.

Are you kidding? This was the female lead of a legitimate television production, moreover one whose narrative centered entirely around her character.

The casting for such a pivotal role could never be settled so hastily!

Yan Li's maneuver was designed to plant a preemptive advantage in Dong Xuan's favor, cementing her in Li Peng's mind as the benchmark for the female lead right from the start.

When Li Peng subsequently reviewed other actresses, he would inevitably and subconsciously measure them against Dong Xuan.

Putting aside the fact that future intelligence indicated Dong Xuan was destined to be the female lead of *Snow Flowering Goddess Blade* anyway, Yan Li had now custom-crafted a living embodiment of "Shangguan Yan" to match Li Peng's desires.

Under these conditions, the outcome of any comparison between Dong Xuan and unprepared competitors was self-evident.

barring any unforeseen hitches, the more candidates Li Peng compared her against, the deeper his impression of Dong Xuan would become, until he ultimately concluded that she was the only possible choice.

And even if an unexpected variable arose, it didn't matter—wasn't Yan Li right there by his side?

He could cater to the producer's preferences to narrow the distance while utilizing the system to probe his real-time thoughts, plugging any gaps to ensure absolute foolproof success.

"..."

For a fleeting moment, Yan Li wondered if he had chosen the wrong profession.

If he were to switch careers and become a talent manager, industry heavyweights like Wang Jinghua, Chang Jihong, and Li Xiaowan would all have to step aside...