Chapter Twenty-Four: Premiere

On July 1st, the news that "Love Lost in Thirty-Three Days" was officially released and screening in major theaters shot to the top of the trending charts.

The debut film of the Golden Melody Award-winning lyricist, and rumor had it he was directing and starring himself.

For a moment, curiosity surged among many.

Since returning from the Golden Melody Awards, Chen Ling had been posting several updates daily on his microblog to promote the film. His follower count had notably increased after winning the award.

With more followers came greater influence; each post now reached a broader and more enthusiastic audience, as many new fans were actively engaged.

Not only Chen Ling, but other members of the production team, including Jing Tian, were also promoting the film online.

Even the "Warring States" crew posted a microblog to support him.

His ex-girlfriend, whether for him or for the film, was still supportive, though the two remained out of contact.

July had arrived, marking the start of the summer movie season, but at this time, few major blockbusters were premiering.

A handful of Hong Kong films were released, but none made much of a splash.

Before the premiere, Chen Ling bought a large number of tickets out of his own pocket, gifting them to classmates and friends.

He handed out tickets to everyone he met at school and encouraged fans to buy tickets and support the film in theaters.

By then, Dou Xiao's "The Hawthorn Tree Love Story" had wrapped filming, and with no promotional activities yet, he had returned to campus.

On the morning of the film's release, Chen Ling drove Dou Xiao around several Beijing theaters to check things out in person.

The theaters they visited were encouraging: showings were plentiful, and promotional materials were prominently displayed.

The posters were impressive, and Chen Ling even interviewed several moviegoers for their opinions. Their feedback was positive, which eased his worries.

That evening, Chen Ling gathered a group of close classmates to support the film at the theater.

Word spread—free movie tickets were being offered—and soon, the group grew so large that they nearly filled the entire hall.

Most were students, few owned cars, so everyone piled onto buses and headed to the cinema together.

At this time, tickets couldn’t be purchased online yet; platforms like Maoyan didn’t exist.

So tickets had to be bought in person, and a theater’s scheduling and promotional efforts greatly influenced the audience turnout.

At the theater, Chen Ling noticed even more posters than during the day.

Chen Ling reserved a larger hall, barely accommodating the crowd.

For his classmates, this was their first time participating in a film.

Seeing their movie projected on the big screen stirred curiosity.

They’d experienced the story during filming, many had read the original novel, but seeing the edited, complete version in theaters was a first.

The plot captivated them, presenting heartbreak and breakups from a young woman’s perspective.

For many, it was something new; the "chick flick" genre wasn’t yet a concept.

After the film, regardless of sincerity, everyone praised it.

But to Chen Ling, it didn’t matter—he’d made the film, it was already released, and the rest was up to the audience and box office.

He was confident in the film’s faithfulness to the original.

Compared to the previous version, his adaptation had strengths and weaknesses.

The strength was, after all, revising a script that had already scored high.

The weakness lay in the acting; except for Jing Tian, most were newcomers to film.

Their performances were somewhat raw, but since the story revolved around young people experiencing heartbreak, their genuine youthfulness lent authenticity.

Overall, the acting wasn’t notably lacking, and the plot was tighter.

Yet during the screening, Chen Ling had his doubts.

In his previous life, the film was notorious as a "cursed drama": actors either broke up, cheated, or were betrayed.

He thought this remake would avoid those pitfalls, but before the film even premiered, he—the male lead—had already broken up with the female lead.

Chen Ling couldn’t help but sigh; this cursed drama seemed to poison people across time.

He glanced at Dou Xiao sitting beside him, hoping the guy would fare better.

"Oh right," Chen Ling nearly forgot something important and quickly asked Dou Xiao, "Did you sign with Zhang Yimou’s studio or New Pictures?"

He’d been busy with the Golden Melody Awards and the film’s release, almost forgetting about Dou Xiao. If he’d signed with New Pictures, he’d be caught up in the fallout once Zhang Yimou finished his next film and the two studios parted ways.

"I signed with the teacher’s studio. By the way, you never told me why I had to sign with the teacher’s studio. Why not New Pictures?" Dou Xiao clearly had been wondering for a while.

Hearing this, Chen Ling thought, "Well done." After one film, he was already calling Zhang Yimou "teacher." This broad-browed, bright-eyed guy was clever.

"As long as you didn’t sign, you’ll know the reason soon enough." Of course, Chen Ling couldn’t reveal more—he didn’t want to play prophet.

"By the way, what’s going on with you and Jing Tian now?"

Dou Xiao brought up Jing Tian; many classmates had wanted to ask, but they were tactful enough not to.

Jing Tian hadn’t appeared at any promotion or screenings, so speculation was inevitable, though nobody spoke of it.

"Same as always. Breakups are pretty normal in our industry."

The recent busy days had helped Chen Ling move on somewhat.

While Chen Ling and his classmates watched the film in Beijing, far away in Hengdian, Jing Tian had just finished shooting a night scene for the "Warring States" crew. After months of intense filming, the project was nearly wrapped.

Back at the hotel, Jing Tian showered, changed, put on a baseball cap and mask, and—with the assistant assigned by Lu Zheng—headed to the cinema.

She was there to see "Love Lost in Thirty-Three Days."

Watching the film, recalling the days of shooting together, and thinking about their current relationship, Jing Tian’s eyes brimmed with tears.

Her assistant grew flustered seeing her like this. As Jing Tian’s assistant, she knew the source of her sorrow, but didn’t know how to comfort her.

In the film, Huang Xiaoxian took thirty-three days to move on.

In real life, Jing Tian, who played "Huang Xiaoxian," had spent several cycles of thirty-three days and still hadn’t moved on.

Hundreds of kilometers away, Chen Ling knew nothing of what was happening. After leaving the cinema, he and his classmates returned to school.

Back in his dorm bed, Chen Ling told himself he wasn’t worried about the box office—but that was a lie.

This was his first film, and he’d borrowed a hefty sum from his family. How could he not be anxious?

Confidence in its fidelity was one thing—he’d adapted a perfect script—but worry lingered.

That night, Chen Ling’s thoughts raced, nearly keeping him awake. In a daze between dreams and reality, he finally drifted off.