Chapter 26: Bombarded?
Time passed quickly, and soon it was almost time for "The Great Quake" to premiere. As a newly acclaimed commercial director, Chen Ling naturally received an invitation to the premiere from Hua Arts, but he declined to attend.
The first reason was that the film was simply too tragic. He had already watched it once in his previous life and had no desire to experience those emotions again in person.
The second reason was that Chen Ling already knew what would happen after the film’s release: various organizations and government offices would organize block bookings. Though the box office would break records, the way it was done would be unsightly.
Chen Ling disliked this approach. The film was finished; its merits should be left to the audience and the market to decide. Why drag the government into it?
So, Chen Ling politely declined with an excuse.
Although he didn’t attend, the matter still managed to involve him. It all started when a reporter at the premiere asked Steel Cannon a pointed question.
“Director Feng, what are your box office expectations for ‘The Great Quake’? Do you have confidence that it will surpass ‘Love Lost in Thirty-Three Days’?”
This was a perfectly normal question. At every film premiere, reporters liked to compare the new release with other popular films from the same period. In such settings, the filmmakers usually made bold claims to generate buzz, which the reporters were happy to encourage.
Usually, no one would say anything too outrageous—after all, it was just for hype, not to make enemies.
But today, Steel Cannon’s remarks crossed the line.
“‘The Great Quake’ is a true big-budget production, not something those small-scale films can compare to. And I directed this film myself—I didn’t bring in a teacher as co-director,” Steel Cannon said, his face clouded with displeasure. In his view, “The Great Quake” was a grand, deep, epic movie, and to compare it to a low-budget romance like “Love Lost in Thirty-Three Days” was nothing short of an insult.
His words sent a jolt of excitement through the reporters—was he picking a fight with the Directing Department at Beijing Film Academy? No wonder he was called Steel Cannon; every interview brought surprises.
“Director Feng, are you implying that the director of ‘Love Lost in Thirty-Three Days’ is someone else?”
Wasn’t the co-director of “Love Lost in Thirty-Three Days” Chen Ling’s advisor? Was Feng Xiaogang targeting Chen Ling’s teacher? There had never been any rumors of animosity between them.
And Chen Ling’s advisor wasn’t just his own mentor; he had trained a number of directors. Was Steel Cannon really planning to challenge the whole Beijing Film Academy?
“I didn’t say that. Let’s stick to discussing ‘The Great Quake,’” Steel Cannon, seated high on the stage, chose not to pursue the topic further—whether he realized his slip or simply didn’t care was unclear.
But while Steel Cannon dropped the subject, many directors and actors from Beijing Film Academy in the audience were visibly displeased.
After all, Teacher Lin was the advisor of the directing department at their school. Attacking him was tantamount to attacking all the graduates present.
Steel Cannon’s single sentence might have ended there, but after the premiere, the media had no intention of letting the controversy die.
No sooner had the premiere ended than “The Great Quake” was trending on multiple hot searches, several of which mentioned Chen Ling.
...
“Shocking! Steel Cannon claims at ‘The Great Quake’ premiere that the real director of ‘Love Lost in Thirty-Three Days’ is someone else.”
“Why did Steel Cannon suddenly attack the Beijing Film Academy’s directing department?”
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“Why did Feng Xiaogang launch an attack on the Beijing Film Academy’s directing department—what’s the hidden story?”
Meanwhile, many directors and actors with ties to the academy voiced their criticism of Feng Xiaogang online, making the internet a frenzy of debate.
Surprisingly, Feng Xiaogang did not respond with his usual retorts. Perhaps the leadership at Hua Arts and the film academy had already held discussions behind the scenes.
As for Chen Ling, he was bewildered. He hadn’t even attended the premiere—why was he being dragged into such enmity? He had never crossed Feng Xiaogang before.
“Teacher, I’m sorry for causing you trouble.”
As soon as the incident broke out, Chen Ling called his advisor. After all, it had all started because he’d asked his teacher to be the co-director.
“I never had any grudge with him before. My agent is in talks with Hua Arts to see if they’ll issue a statement.”
“There’s no need to bother. They probably won’t release anything. Years ago, I did have a falling out with Steel Cannon, but I never thought he’d hold a grudge for so long,” came his teacher’s resigned reply. Who would have imagined Steel Cannon could hold a grudge for so many years?
So the real target was Chen Ling’s teacher, though Chen Ling himself hadn’t escaped unscathed.
“So we’re just letting this go?”
Chen Ling was frustrated. Other people who traveled through time all seemed to have smooth journeys, but for him—first his girlfriend left him, then he made a film only to be insulted by a big shot. What kind of luck was this?
“The more heated the controversy, the more attention his film gets. If you want to make a comeback, don’t rush—you’re young, you have plenty of time. Don’t be afraid of him,” his teacher said calmly.
“Don’t worry about the online noise. The school has already sent word through back channels; there won’t be any further statements from their side. As long as no one stirs things up again, this will blow over in a few days.”
At this point, those speaking up for either the academy or Hua Arts were all peripheral figures. Clearly, the real power players had no desire to escalate.
With the big shots in agreement, the controversy would quickly die down as long as no major figure weighed in.
“This isn’t over. Next time Steel Cannon releases a film, I’ll make sure to go up against him!” Chen Ling wasn’t just venting—he really meant it. If Steel Cannon could strike first, he couldn’t be blamed for retaliating later. He wasn’t afraid of Steel Cannon or even the entire Hua Arts; after living a second life, would he let himself be bullied?
After hanging up with his advisor, Chen Ling checked the online commentary.
“I knew it—a freshman couldn’t possibly direct a box office hit by himself. So it turns out the teacher was boosting his student all along.”
“One minute breaking music records, the next breaking box office records—must be another rich kid polishing his resume, right?”
“Honestly, where did those songs on the album come from? Were they ghostwritten too?”
Those who had been envious before were now leading the charge online, though there were some defending him as well.
“Are netizens really this gullible? Do they believe anything they hear? Has everyone lost basic judgment?”
“This is hilarious—people still believe Steel Cannon’s words? He’d say anything for his box office.”
“Hua Arts hasn’t issued a statement—clearly they’re just jealous of another film making money.”
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As Chen Ling was engrossed in reading these comments, his agent Zhao Qian called.
“Hua Arts still refuses to release a statement.”
“So they won’t? Fine, got it. No need to contact them again,” Chen Ling said, already contemplating his next film. Steel Cannon liked to throw punches? Next time their films went head-to-head, he’d see who came out on top!
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And so, amid all the heated discussion, "The Great Quake" was released. Thanks to Steel Cannon’s earlier remarks, the film—already highly anticipated—received another surge of attention.
On its opening day, its screening share and attendance rates outpaced all competitors; it seemed as if every theater was showing it.
The next morning, the box office news was out.
“Opening day box office: a staggering 39 million.”
“‘The Great Quake’ is poised to break the box office record for Chinese-language films.”
“Organizations respond to the call—flocking to theaters to commemorate history.”
Reports also noted the absurdly high attendance rates, many screenings reaching one hundred percent. Of course, with entire organizations booking theaters, how could attendance not be high?
Affected by "The Great Quake" and the recent online drama, the daily box office for "Love Lost in Thirty-Three Days" dropped below one million. However, its total box office had already reached 298 million—three hundred million was within reach.
On its second day, "The Great Quake" raked in 46.6 million, breaking the single-day box office record for Chinese films.
On the third day, it brought in 47 million, again setting a new single-day record, and the numbers were still climbing. Industry insiders were already predicting that this film would shatter the all-time box office record for Chinese-language cinema.
At the same time, there was a growing chorus online criticizing "The Great Quake." It wasn’t just netizens—many filmmakers joined in, denouncing the harm such practices did to the film industry.
“Block bookings by organizations damage the movie market.”
“Such tactics are disgraceful and unfair to other films. We call on the authorities to put a stop to this.”
Compared to the industry’s criticism, the netizens’ comments were far more colorful.
“After years of drudgery, this was my first time working overtime to watch a movie.”
“Tell me about it—the worst part is, the ticket cost came out of next month’s salary.”
“I didn’t go, so my boss marked me absent.”
“And they have the nerve to criticize others? Steel Cannon really has no shame.”