Famous! Ch.105

Chapter 105: The Plot of Deception

Deception ranked sixth on the daily box office chart. The top five films all exceeded 100 million yuan, but the only ones that truly pulled ahead were Eternal Night and The Train Home. The third-place film, When I Was a Child, hadn’t even crossed the 200 million mark.

This was a crowded Spring Festival season.

Objectively speaking, the overall quality of the films was decent. There wasn’t a flop like The Swordsman, which had its reputation collapse on its opening day. But this also meant the competition during this period was especially fierce—films that broke 100 million on their first day had a strong chance of surpassing 1 billion in total box office earnings.

Naturally, films that achieved this milestone on their first day garnered significant attention. In comparison, Deception seemed underwhelming.

The production team, however, was quite satisfied. Considering their modest budget, they estimated they could break even within three days if things went well—or within five days or the entire Spring Festival season at the latest.

Reaching the 100-million mark on the first day had never been a goal for the director or the two lead actors. After all, this was the Spring Festival season, and Deception’s trailer—with its blood and gore—was anything but festive.

Lu Xu was surprisingly calm about it—even though numerous marketing accounts were already labeling Deception as his “stepping stone” into the film industry.

[Time and again, top stars from the TV drama scene have ventured into films. From Qiao Mengyao, hailed as the ‘Queen of Period Dramas,’ to Zhang Che, who topped popularity charts in the drama world, the results have been underwhelming, even dismal.]

[Are TV actors inherently unsuited for the film industry? Can Lu Xu break this so-called curse?]

Lu Xu: “…”

He had never realized he was carrying such a monumental burden.

Why hadn’t anyone called to give him a heads-up?

After Deception’s first-day box office results were revealed, most marketing accounts took a wait-and-see approach.

In terms of occupancy rates, Deception was clearly outshone by Eternal Night and The Train Home. With the same screen allocation, those two films drew significantly more viewers. Yet, among the Spring Festival releases, Deception was far from being the worst performer.

In fact, when considering production budgets, Deception ranked among the lowest of the bunch.

Comparing Deception to Eternal Night and The Train Home was inherently unfair—the latter two films had budgets exceeding 500 million yuan. Naturally, their breakeven expectations were different.

In fact—judging solely by first-day box office returns—Deception might actually recoup its costs faster than Eternal Night.

…

[With Yue Hui and Lu Xu leading the cast, I feel like Deception’s box office is still a bit underwhelming.]

[…Is this the so-called influence Lu Xu’s fans keep boasting about? Which top star can’t even break 100 million on opening day? Where did all his fans go?]

[LMAO, Deception’s trailer had more views than The Train Home. So all those so-called fans were just freeloaders? With this kind of performance, he’s dreaming of breaking into the film industry? He might as well go to bed early!]

Under posts discussing box office results, occasional comments mocking Lu Xu would appear. However, if the commenter’s profile picture featured Zhang Che, or if they had previously posted content related to Zhang Che, someone would quietly remind them:

[Deception’s first-day box office is already close to The Swordsman’s total earnings.]

The commenter would promptly go silent.

In truth, regardless of the release window, the first day was always a chaotic battlefield where audiences relied on instinct to choose tickets. Starting from the second day, however, the true differentiation would begin—this was when word-of-mouth kicked in and the playing field shifted.

For low-budget films, this marked the crucial opportunity to make an upward surge.

Of course, it was also when various parties would pull out all the stops to push their films forward.

…

On the second day of the Lunar New Year, Xi Yue went to the cinema with her close friend.

They had discussed for a long time which movie to watch during the Spring Festival season. Neither of them had checked reviews on ticketing websites because there were simply too many fake reviews there. Xi Yue was interested in Deception, while her friend wanted to watch Eternal Night. The two scrolled down through the real-time comments, trying to figure out what people thought of the two films.

Xi Yue mainly focused on searching for real-time reviews of Deception.

[This is interesting! I highly recommend everyone go watch Deception. No spoilers, but it’s truly an amazing film!]

[A classic mystery-solving suspense movie. Go watch it now!!]

Xi Yue browsed through over a dozen comments and found that not a single one criticized Deception. Her curiosity grew even stronger.

Before she could take a screenshot to show her friend, her friend messaged her first: [Let’s go watch Deception.]

[? Is Eternal Night not good?]

[After scrolling for ages, I found a lot of bot comments. Among the real ones, some said it was good, but others said it wasn’t. At least the overall reputation isn’t that stellar.]

[If it doesn’t work out, we can just watch it a few days later.]

With so many movies being released during the Spring Festival, Xi Yue wasn’t worried about not finding one she liked.

[It’s a pity that Deception’s screening schedule has been cut back a bit. We’ll have to buy tickets for a slightly later showing.]

Cinemas were always quick to respond. Since Eternal Night and The Train Home had performed well at the box office, their screenings were slightly increased. Naturally, this meant that other movies had their screening times reduced.

Deception’s box office performance on its opening day was fairly average—not bad, but not strong enough to justify cinemas increasing its screenings.

The upside was that tickets for Deception weren’t too hard to get. Even though Xi Yue and her friend made the decision at the last minute, they still managed to secure good seats.

However, upon entering the theater, Xi Yue noticed that there were more people watching Deception than she had expected. By the time the movie started, more than half of the seats in the theater were filled. After the opening, she saw that even the seats in the corners were occupied.

Next to her sat a young couple, who seemed to be students. Xi Yue overheard their low whispers; it sounded like they had already watched Deception once yesterday and were here for a second viewing.

“When I came yesterday, the seats around me were all empty. Today, suddenly there’s a crowd.”

“I saw the recommendation from that blogger ‘Movie Diary.’ A lot of people in the comments were praising Deception.”

Hearing their conversation made Xi Yue even more curious.

A moment later, the movie began.

The visuals of Deception weren’t overly dark in tone, nor were they overly bright. The opening scenes flashed through a series of extravagant and debauched scenes—

“…The winners will have endless wealth, an allure no one can resist, not even death.”

[The game begins.]

The next shot introduced the participants seated at the roulette table, each there for different reasons.

There was a wealthy tycoon, a celebrity, a dancer, someone down on their luck… and a bookish scholar.

From the moment the character of Chang Qing, the scholar, appeared, Xi Yue suspected it was Lu Xu playing the role. But this character was so different from the types of roles Lu Xu usually played that she wasn’t entirely sure.

As the game progressed, however, Xi Yue became increasingly convinced.

The roulette table turned into a deadly casino, and Chang Qing became the prey. Yet, through sheer “luck,” he managed to evade the attacks of the other participants.

Could a character so inexperienced and seemingly foolish really exist in a meticulously plotted story like Deception?

The killer was destined to face punishment. The first round centered on Zou Yun, who had murdered an orphan girl to seize her inheritance. After squandering her family’s fortune, he attempted to change his fate through the game.

When this round concluded, Xi Yue suddenly realized something—the mechanical voice narrating the story at the start of the movie had already provided a clue. At the time, she had assumed it was a tale about the “winners” of the game. But upon closer thought, wasn’t Zou Yun also a “winner” in the conventional sense of the term?

This prompted Xi Yue to pay closer attention to the characters’ expressions and subtle gestures.

She had a lingering feeling that Deception contained additional hidden clues.

The visuals themselves were already stimulating enough. The intricate game rules and the characters’ backstories filled the movie with an abundance of information, making the audience feel fully engaged simply by following these elements.

Even the exchanges of glances between characters and the cryptic hints from Shi Xinshan, played by Yue Hui, felt laden with significance.

Although Shi Xinshan was one of the game’s participants, his role resembled that of a guide. His peculiar mannerisms and sinister demeanor added an eerie layer to the game.

Before the second round began, the story shifted to a seemingly “kind-hearted” dancer.

She was altruistic, volunteering as a teacher in rural areas and helping a deaf-mute girl achieve her dream of performing on stage. She couldn’t understand why she had been invited to this game.

Perhaps it was due to a jealous colleague in her dance troupe who resented her promotion to lead dancer. The dancer had overheard this colleague murmuring cryptically about a “game.”

Distraught by this deliberate framing, the dancer couldn’t shake her unease. She recalled meeting Shi Xinshan one afternoon—his face then was nothing like the aged, sinister visage it was now. Back then, his smile had been warm and kind, devoid of the current slyness.

The dancer was clearly a “good person” in the conventional sense—enthusiastic, sincere, and straightforward. When she expressed her confusion, Xi Yue’s theory about Deception being a story of “all villains” was shattered once again. Based on the dancer’s behavior, it just didn’t seem to fit.

But the dancer did not escape the punishment of the second round. Chang Qing, through his “luck,” managed to pick up a useful item, while the dancer’s once-beautiful face was charred beyond recognition. Her uncontrolled screams echoed through the theater, leaving an eerie impression on the audience.

The longer Xi Yue watched, the more she perceived the brutal nature of the game.

Deception wasn’t a story told in a linear fashion. The game itself might have followed sequential rounds, but the order in which characters appeared and died was deliberately jumbled. What’s more, later events would overwrite earlier ones, revealing the truth from different angles.

Xi Yue’s attention was entirely fixated on the movie’s plot. In the theater, she didn’t allow herself even a moment of distraction, fearing she might miss a critical detail.

In fact, the pacing of Deception was masterfully varied. The game’s rhythm alternated between tension and relief, rather than bombarding the audience with an unrelenting flow of information. The atmosphere at the roulette table was, at times, almost calm. This very calmness, however, made Xi Yue feel the need to brace herself for the inevitable eruption that would follow.

Glancing around the theater under the glow of the screen, she discreetly observed the audience. As expected, everyone was wide-eyed and glued to the screen. No one was nodding off, and no one left mid-movie to go to the restroom.

As the game progressed, Chang Qing’s presence began to grow.

By the third round, even the most oblivious viewer could tell that Chang Qing, who had managed to escape punishment twice in a row while others suffered, was undoubtedly a formidable player.

Gradually, Chang Qing revealed his true nature.

The moment he removed his thick, bottle-bottom glasses, a small but audible wave of “wow” rippled through the theater. At first, the viewers who made the sound seemed a little embarrassed, but when they realized they weren’t alone, they exchanged sheepish smiles.

Yan Huan and Chang Qing might have shared the same face, but the rigid dullness embodied by Chang Qing was completely absent in Yan Huan’s expressions. Now, the face on the screen was strikingly different, radiating a powerful and commanding presence.

His eyes gleamed as if they could speak, carrying a mix of mischievousness and a hard-to-define charm somewhere between sensuality and innocence.

On the big screen, Lu Xu’s features were magnified to an almost overwhelming effect, as though crafted with precision tools—flawless and symmetrical to an astonishing degree. Yet, he was far from just a wooden beauty. The subtle shifts in his gaze conveyed a sense of absolute control, as if he had the entire situation in his grasp.

Particularly striking was his gesture of forming a gun with his fingers, causing someone to fall into a trap. The image planted a massive “dominant” in Xi Yue’s mind.

Every raised eyebrow and beckoning motion was undeniably captivating.

Xi Yue suddenly recalled a comment she had seen the day before: someone had remarked that Deception was worth the ticket price just for Lu Xu’s face. Yet the movie offered far more than just a face—its plot was equally compelling.

She couldn’t help but silently agree.

With a face like that, it would be a shame to waste it on a mediocre story!

As the subsequent rounds unfolded, Yan Huan cleared them one by one, revealing the ever-gruesome side of the game. The punishments, each more imaginative and horrifying than the last, were carried out on the losing participants.

Yet interwoven into the punishments were backstories that suggested that, as cruel and cold as the game might be, it paled in comparison to the darkness of human nature.

The disfigured dancer, for instance, had never truly engaged in charity work. Her punishment stemmed from her destruction of other dancers’ dreams—she had caused a competitor to be disfigured and left disabled.

The so-called deaf-mute girl was merely a prop she presented to those in power.

Who would believe the truth spoken by a girl unable to articulate her words? She couldn’t even defend herself.

The destitute man, despite being at the bottom of society, had delighted in t*rturing animals weaker than himself.

The celebrity, arrogant and cruel, had turned a blind eye as her fans cyberb*llied an ordinary person to the point of s**cide.

…

The deaf-mute girl couldn’t speak, animals couldn’t use human language, cyberb*llying inflicted psychological damage rather than physical harm, and Zou Yun’s calculated ploy to seize an inheritance had been conducted in complete secrecy. None of them had faced punishment.

The game’s punishments were harsh, yet they highlighted a sobering reality: the sins left unpunished in life often stemmed from the unseen, the unheard, and the ignored.

Chang Qing, who appeared to be honest and sincere, had once leveraged his “trustworthy” image during his school years to gain financial support from a kind-hearted family. Harboring resentment toward those who lived better lives than he did, he gradually approached the family’s only daughter. The two eventually planned to elope, but when their relationship was met with misunderstanding and despair, they made a pact to commit s**cide together.

The girl jumped. He did not.

He continued to walk through campus as the quiet, “hardworking student” who “didn’t talk much and seemed a bit naive.” Other than the girl’s grief-stricken parents, no one even remembered she had existed.

Chang Qing, however, took pleasure in the thought that there was one less person in the world living a life better than his.

The reason Chang Qing became Yan Huan was because he once again succumbed to his dark thoughts, but this time, the timing was unfortunate—he encountered Yan Huan.

“Did you kill Chang Qing?”

The roulette table now held only a few participants. Facing Shi Xinshan’s pointed question, Yan Huan gave a faint smile and replied, “Who’s to say?”

“Shouldn’t you be the one finding the killer?”

Yan Huan’s gaze fell on Shi Xinshan. “Otherwise, there wouldn’t have been a need for you to design this game.”

Shi Xinshan didn’t deny it, but his expression darkened as he stared at Yan Huan. “Who are you, really?”

At that moment, the screen dimmed. The roulette table was now empty, with only Shi Xinshan holding a card left behind by Yan Huan. The card bore a blue letter “K.” If one had paid attention throughout the entire film, they would have noticed the letter “K” appearing frequently.

With that, Deception came to an end.

Xi Yue: “…”

She felt as though her entire brain had been emptied.

“So, was the game designed by Shi Xinshan?”

“What does the letter K represent?”

“If the plot hadn’t explained the bad deeds those people committed, I really wouldn’t have understood it!”

There was only one thing Xi Yue was sure of—Deception was absolutely worth watching in the theater!

Movie tickets during the Spring Festival period weren’t cheap, so Xi Yue and her friend opted for a cinema in a lesser-known mall nearby. This mall only had one popular hot pot restaurant, which kept the ticket prices low—they only spent a little over 30 yuan.

But she felt that Deception had given her a 70-yuan experience—just Lu Xu’s face alone was worth 20 yuan!

The moment she stepped out of the cinema, Xi Yue couldn’t resist searching for analyses of Deception. Unfortunately, it was only the second day of the movie’s release, and no bloggers had posted a full breakdown yet, likely to avoid spoilers.

Luckily, by searching specific keywords, she was able to find scattered analyses.

Xi Yue and her friend eagerly shared interesting details they had discovered, unearthing many things they hadn’t noticed during the movie.

For instance, the moment Chang Qing appeared, Shi Xinshan had already sensed something off about him.

Or that Zou Yun frequently rubbed his hands because he had smothered the orphan girl to death with his hands, and his subsequent punishment of hand amputation carried a symbolic sense of karmic justice.

Unable to contain her excitement, Xi Yue took to Weibo to share:

[Go watch Deception right now!!!]

[The visuals are so smooth! The revenge is super satisfying! The game design is incredibly thrilling!]

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