Chapter 123: Taking Criticism
Zhong Wei, having once been a badminton player, deeply resonated with Yin Pei’s experiences.
The plot of Feather of Youth was not complicated; the story flowed smoothly, yet it was far from dull.
The film didn’t rely on scenes of gut-wrenching sorrow or bloodied battles. Instead, it enveloped the protagonist in a quiet warmth, like a gently flowing stream.
Compared to the movies released during the National Day holiday, Feather of Youth was strikingly simple—even straightforward.
And yet, whether it was Yin Pei choosing badminton again or the sight of him standing tall, swinging his racket, and fighting once more, it stirred an undeniable passion in the hearts of viewers.
Yin Pei was also a warrior!
[I love Feather of Youth so much! Does anyone else think Yin Pei’s character is like a golden retriever?]
[The way he smiles is totally golden retriever energy—so adorable!]
[Yin Pei is the most youthful character Lu Xu has ever played. For the entire hour and a half, I couldn’t take my eyes off his face! Please take on more cheerful, sunny roles like this—you’re perfect for them!]
[Agreed! +1 +1 +1!]
Lu Xu rarely played the role of a youthful male lead, so his fans naturally flocked to buy tickets in support. As Lu Xu’s second lead role in a film, Feather of Youth had a tone entirely opposite to that of Deception. Fans even joked among themselves, wondering if Yin Pei might suddenly turn into a psychopath in the last half hour of the movie.
This thought came from fans who had repeatedly rewatched The Path of Bones and Voice of the Dead during the time When I Was 18 was airing.
Fortunately, When I Was 18 had been a wholesome show, and Feather of Youth followed suit.
The entire film radiated warmth and youthful energy. After Yin Pei decided not to give up badminton, his eyes were always glowing with determination. This was the heart of what made the movie so moving.
[It felt like reading a passionate sports manga.]
[‘Welcome back’ was such a powerful line. It reminded me of the athlete I admire who had to retire due to an injury. Everyone thought he would never return to the field, but he still fought his way back.]
[Competitive sports are truly harsh. Athletes’ performances fluctuate, and one mistake can affect their entire career. That’s why I’ve always believed that wasting opportunities is a crime. I wish every athlete could have a fulfilling career.]
[Alas.]
…
Before the release of Feather of Youth, several platforms predicted the film’s box office performance. According to their forecasts, the opening day box office for Feather of Youth was estimated to be around 80 million yuan.
[This figure is overestimated. Pure youth films aren’t easy to make money with nowadays, and Feather of Youth falls into the niche sports genre. If you ask me, an opening day box office of 60 million would be about right] said renowned film critic and screenwriter Meng Xun in his column before the film’s release.
To be fair, his prediction wasn’t unreasonable. Considering its genre, Feather of Youth wasn’t exactly mainstream—certainly not the kind of movie that could generate massive profits.
Youth films had once experienced a golden age. Just a few years ago, a successful youth film could typically earn over 1 billion yuan at the box office. More importantly, youth films were low-cost investments that could both make money and launch new stars.
However, in recent years, the box office performance of youth films had significantly declined.
Making a small profit was still possible, but achieving a big win was challenging.
Feather of Youth didn’t even include the romantic elements that most youth films had. Its main storyline revolved around friendship, and the film contained a relatively large number of competition scenes.
In other words, among youth films that didn’t make money, Feather of Youth belonged to the category of those that earned even less.
The issue, however, was that when the opening day box office figures came out, Feather of Youth had earned 137.62 million yuan—over 70 million more than Meng Xun’s prediction.
For a youth film, such a result was rare in recent years.
Originally, this could have been the end of the story. It was normal for film critics to make incorrect predictions. Neither the production team nor the cast of Feather of Youth intended to mock Meng Xun, and none of the fans flocked to his social media to taunt him with lines like “Don’t underestimate the young.”
However, for some unknown reason, Meng Xun seemed to have developed a grudge against Feather of Youth.
The next day, he took to Weibo to discuss the film.
[I watched Feather of Youth out of curiosity. With a 130-million-yuan opening day box office, I thought it would be a brilliant and multifaceted movie. But the final product left me quite disappointed. Such a simple story—was it really worth making into a movie? You’d be better off watching some inspirational documentaries; they’re far more uplifting than Feather of Youth.
[Later, a friend explained to me how popular one of the idol-turned-actors in the cast has become. It turns out I was ignorant—I’d never even heard of this person. Now the billion-yuan box office makes sense. Fans are willing to pay. A few years ago, there was even a terrible movie that fans hyped up to an 800-million-yuan box office.]
Meng Xun rambled on, posting one Weibo after another. Although he didn’t harshly criticize Feather of Youth, his sarcastic remarks made people feel even more uncomfortable.
Zhang Zhizhen even responded to one of his posts, saying, “Feather of Youth hardly qualifies as a film.”
Meng Xun replied with a handshake emoji: “Well said, Brother Zhang.”
In reality, Feather of Youth was still performing well at the box office on its second day. Although it didn’t match the 130 million of the first day, it still surpassed 100 million, bringing the total box office earnings to 250 million yuan—enough to cover the production costs.
As for Lu Xu, he was paid a fixed salary for his role in the film. However, the production team and the theater chains had already discussed plans to promote the movie overseas—after all, the overseas box office success of Deception was something everyone envied.
Given that Lu Xu was one of the leads in Deception, he was already a familiar face to international audiences. Moreover, the story of Feather of Youth had universal appeal, making it easier for overseas audiences to understand and connect with.
For example, in Country R, enduringly popular sports manga had often been adapted into stage plays and films.
Similarly, in North America, movies about basketball and football had always been in steady supply.
However, after Meng Xun shared his so-called “insights,” a surge of negative reviews about Feather of Youth began appearing online. Comments like “boring and uneventful,” “a waste of time,” and “wildly unrealistic” became increasingly common.
[A clichéd inspirational film filled with the infuriating delusion that human effort can overcome anything. The director and screenwriter are clearly afflicted with childishness, telling a mythical story set against a modern backdrop.]
[The director must have known this kind of movie wouldn’t fool audiences, so he let Lu Xu’s face take up most of the screen time.]
On film forums, some users even started betting that the box office success of Feather of Youth would soon crash and burn.
…
Meanwhile, Lu Xu was quietly reading up on Meng Xun’s background.
The man was supposedly a renowned film critic and screenwriter, but after a bit of research, Lu Xu realized that Meng’s career was… patchy, to say the least.
While he had co-written a few decent works with other screenwriters, the scripts he had written on his own were mediocre at best and utterly forgettable at worst.
In fact—if he co-wrote the first installment of a series with others and then handled the sequel solo, the sequel would inevitably turn out disastrously.
It wouldn’t even qualify as putting a dog’s tail on a mink coat—it was more like attaching a clump of weeds.
“He’s petty and particularly jealous of talented young people,” Xu Wen explained. “It’s an old habit of his flaring up again.”
Despite Meng Xun’s constant online criticism of others’ work, his own scripts had been far bigger flops.
“Any screenwriter with actual work to do wouldn’t have time to be ranting online all day. Just being on set keeps you so busy you can’t think about anything else.”
Lu Xu nodded. “So he’s doing this willingly, not because someone paid him off?”
“Probably.”
…
The production team initially assumed Meng Xun would eventually stop after venting his opinions, but it became clear he wasn’t letting Feather of Youth go. Over the course of three days, he posted nearly twenty Weibo updates criticizing the movie, claiming it was “meaningless to make,” “a cash grab targeting fans,” and that Lu Xu was “wasting himself in such a pointless film” instead of “pursuing the next peak of his acting career.”
[I kind of want to say something…]
[Same here…]
[But Lu Xu hasn’t posted a proper, lively Weibo update in ages. You guys get what I mean?]
[Totally. I’ve been waiting too…]
Fans who knew Lu Xu well were aware of his personality. With Meng Xun criticizing him this openly, there was no way Lu Xu wouldn’t respond. It was simply impossible.
Some fans started refreshing his profile from the afternoon onward, ready to catch him online the moment he appeared.
Sure enough, Lu Xu came online.
While fans couldn’t be certain if Lu Xu had seen Meng Xun’s comments, given his well-known habit of internet surfing—and the fact that Meng Xun had been trending for days—it was hard to imagine Lu Xu wasn’t aware.
Despite the mounting criticism online, the box office performance of Feather of Youth remained largely unaffected.
On its third day, the film’s box office didn’t cross the 100-million-yuan mark but still managed to earn over 90 million, maintaining a strong trajectory.
In terms of decline rates, Feather of Youth was remarkably stable.
The release window was a quiet one, with no blockbuster films dominating the theaters. Audiences had just gone through the lively National Day movie season and weren’t necessarily eager to head back to cinemas so soon.
Still, Meng Xun’s comments were undeniably grating.
[Maybe Feather of Youth could have broken 100 million on its third day, but thanks to him, it only managed 90 million.]
Fans of Feather of Youth couldn’t help but feel indignant on the movie’s behalf.
Who said a film had to be full of twists and turns to be meaningful?
What was wrong with Feather of Youth focusing on friendship?
At the very least, they felt energized by the film. A story that could have ended in despair instead found a hopeful and beautiful resolution—wasn’t that a good thing?
A film about pursuing what you love, overcoming the obstacles you face with determination, and being surrounded by love and kindness—how could that not be a good thing?
In the theater, they were moved by Yin Pei’s journey. That was why they loved the movie.
[Ah! Lu Xu just posted on Weibo!]
[Let me check!]
[Hurry up!]
While fans were feeling upset on Lu Xu’s behalf, his newest Weibo post was already up.
[The pinnacle of my acting career—successfully getting Teacher Meng to recognize me in just two days.]
Lu Xu even included screenshots of Meng Xun’s back-to-back Weibo posts. On the first day, Meng Xun sarcastically claimed he didn’t know who Lu Xu was, while on the second, he had shifted to giving earnest, senior-like “advice.”
But what really got people talking was a detail in Lu Xu’s post—whether intentional or very intentional, the screenshots also included a snippet of a group chat:
Chat excerpt:
[Who’s Meng Xun?]
[Never heard of him. Let me Baidu it.]
[Seriously, no one in this group knows Meng Xun?]
[Not a clue.]
[No worries. We know him now, don’t we?]
The hashtags that followed were the icing on the cake:
#While Meng Xun Just Got To Know Lu Xu, Lu Xu Also Just Got To Know Meng Xun
#Fair Enough
Fans burst into laughter, their frustration instantly replaced by amusement. Lu Xu’s wit had defused the situation perfectly.