Chapter 147 – Refund
Lu Xu admitted that there had been quite a long gap between finishing Reverse City and accepting Fearless Life.
He usually gave himself some downtime between projects.
But the speed at which Sanzu River was filmed was simply too fast.
He remembered it clearly—he only received the casting invitation after wrapping Reverse City, yet somehow, Sanzu River was scheduled for release in almost the same timeframe as Reverse City.
Calling it “rocket speed” was an understatement.
What’s more, Sanzu River was a big-budget film, featuring a star-studded cast and heavy CGI elements. Lu Xu couldn’t help but wonder—at that pace, how were they supposed to showcase all those supposed advantages?
Anyone with experience in filmmaking knew that a movie’s budget was directly tied to its scale. A set with a hundred people was nothing like a set with a thousand or ten thousand. The resulting cost didn’t just increase by simple multiples—it expanded exponentially, even explosively.
The production of Sanzu River was expensive, with a massive cast, so naturally, the filming process wasn’t short. Managing tens of thousands of extras appearing in a single scene at the same time was an extremely difficult task in itself.
“This is way too blatant.” Xu Wen frowned and said, “Are they taking the industry for fools, or the audience?”
A quick online search showed that the Sanzu River production team was still pushing out press releases, calling it a fantasy blockbuster on par with A-X-Da, boasting an all-star cast.
However, the more the production hyped itself up, the more Lu Xu felt they were bluffing. It gave him a strong impression that they were just trying to make a quick buck before running, much like what had happened with The Swordsman before.
Yet, Zhang Zhizhen genuinely held Sanzu River in high regard. Not only did he visit the set, but he also wrote a glowing ten-thousand-word review upon returning and even worked as a filming consultant for a while.
According to Zhang Zhizhen, he didn’t take a single cent—he was doing it all for the “artistic dream” he and the Sanzu River team supposedly shared.
Lu Xu: “Stacking buffs now, are we?”
Come on, it’s Zhang Zhizhen. It’s The Swordsman all over again. How good could this film possibly be?
Ever since Bei Hong got dissed by Lu Xu last time, the Sanzu River team had toned down their marketing efforts involving Lu Xu. However, after the official announcement of the movie’s release date—which happened to be close to Reverse City—discussions about both films heated up again.
After all, one was a new work from a renowned director. Whether it was the rumored feud between Lu Xu and Zhao Yifan or Qi Di and Liu Rennong Studio’s contract termination, everything was closely tied to Reverse City.
Meanwhile, Sanzu River was one of the industry’s rare large-scale fantasy productions. Even though Lu Xu suspected it would turn out to be an absurd film, that didn’t stop audiences from holding high expectations for it.
If a visual effects-heavy film was poorly made, it would truly be a disaster. But if the production was impressive enough, it would mean that, compared to the powerful overseas film industry, China’s own film industry had its merits and could compete with international players on the same level.
To some extent, the film industry was a reflection of a country’s hard power.
For example, a film with an investment of over a billion yuan was nothing unusual in the domestic market. Even a production exceeding ten billion yuan could still recoup its costs, supported by a sufficient number of consumers.
However, in the overseas film market, a box office of 4 to 5 billion meant that even if each ticket cost 100 yuan, it would still require 40 to 50 million viewers to sustain it.
Looking at a world population map, there were only about 20 to 30 countries with such populations, and not everyone would go to the cinema.
For most film markets in the world, developing a thriving film industry was nothing more than an unattainable dream.
It wasn’t just people in the entertainment industry like Lu Xu who were hoping for a domestic blockbuster on the scale of A-X-Da to dominate the global market. Many ordinary moviegoers shared the same expectation. Since Sanzu River was hyping itself up so loudly and had indeed brought in several big names from the industry, it was only natural for audiences to believe in it.
But… pinning hopes on Sanzu River would likely only lead to disappointment.
“You don’t have to be so pessimistic,” Xu Wen tried to console Lu Xu. “Maybe Sanzu River will actually turn out great?”
Lu Xu: “You believe that?”
“I don’t.” Xu Wen replied. “But people have the right to believe.”
The Stellar Awards ceremony was scheduled for mid-February. Lu Xu would start filming Fearless Life in early May, while Sanzu River and Reverse City were both set for a summer release.
The good news was that although both films were set for a summer release, they didn’t premiere on the same day but were scheduled two weeks apart.
Compared to the Spring Festival and National Day slots, the summer season was relatively spread out. Blockbusters couldn’t all be crammed into the same release window—partly to compete for screen time and partly to keep audiences engaged with fresh content.
Sanzu River hit major theaters on July 10. On that day, its competitors included a domestic comedy and an overseas blockbuster.
It was worth mentioning that the overseas blockbuster was a last-minute addition to this release window. Sanzu River had locked in its release date early on. If it weren’t for the sudden scheduling of the overseas film, Sanzu River wouldn’t have faced any real competition that week.
Changing the release date was out of the question, and postponing it was even more impossible. By now, Sanzu River had practically become the flagship for domestic VFX-heavy films. Only smaller productions or those facing overwhelming competition would consider rescheduling.
Audiences were even looking forward to a head-to-head battle between Sanzu River and the overseas blockbuster. If the former managed to win, it would undoubtedly be a source of great pride for moviegoers.
[Sanzu River versus Leviathan—this is going to be epic! Can’t wait!]
[Leviathan did decently at the overseas box office. It’s not a top-tier VFX film, but it has solid reviews and good production quality. Looking at the entire summer lineup, Sanzu River is probably the only movie that can go up against it.]
[Foreign blockbusters haven’t been as dominant in recent years—this is the perfect time to surpass them.]
[+1. Plus, Sanzu River and Leviathan are completely different genres. Horror and gore films like Leviathan don’t always appeal to domestic audiences, but Sanzu River is different. It’s based on local mythology, featuring immortals and spirits—things audiences don’t need to research beforehand. Leviathan even has some religious themes, which could be a turnoff for some.]
After all, Sanzu River was a rare domestic VFX blockbuster with an all-star cast. Naturally, theaters were more than generous, allocating a hefty 35.9% of the screenings to it. In contrast, despite Leviathan surpassing $1 billion at the overseas box office, it only received 25.6% of the screenings.
To put things into perspective, the final installment of a certain overseas blockbuster franchise had received over 40% of the screenings upon its release.
From this, it was clear that the theater chains were giving Sanzu River a lot of support.
For those eagerly anticipating the film, the wait itself was thrilling.
The Sanzu River production team went all out with its promotional campaign. The A-list cast members actively reposted the official announcements, and even their celebrity friends booked out entire screenings to show support.
Dong Miao was one of those drawn to the cinema by the film’s star-studded lineup.
Lately, she had been playing a game themed around the underworld, featuring figures like Yama, Meng Po, and the Black and White Impermanence as key characters. The moment she saw the trailer for Sanzu River, she immediately decided to watch it in theaters.
She had originally planned to go with a friend, but unfortunately, they had to work overtime at the last minute and asked her to share her thoughts after watching it.
“Missing this would be such a shame! Meng Po is played by Fan Yin, you know!”
Fan Yin was her friend’s idol—an industry-recognized beauty, known for her striking, almost intimidating presence. On the big screen, her beauty was even more breathtaking.
Her friend had become a fan purely because of a few of Fan Yin’s iconic looks in previous films.
Dong Miao swore that she had entered the cinema with immense excitement for Sanzu River. She wasn’t a traditional film buff and had no particular expectations for the domestic film industry—she simply enjoyed watching beautiful actors on the big screen.
Even when others found ensemble-cast films messy and unimpressive, she could still watch them with great enjoyment. After all, she wasn’t picky—spotting celebrities while watching a movie was entertainment enough for her.
However, not long after Sanzu River started, Dong Miao was completely dumbfounded.
She had never imagined that Fan Yin—the Fan Yin—could look this bad on screen.
Who was this woman on the giant theater screen? That dull, lifeless hair, those blunt bangs—what did any of this have to do with Meng Po? Was this really the stunning Fan Yin?
Dong Miao had to admit, she had never seen a movie that made someone look this unflattering.
Bad visuals were one thing, but the special effects…
The so-called Hollywood-grade effects? She honestly couldn’t tell the difference between this and the ones in low-budget web films. Even though the theater had provided 3D glasses, all they did was make her eyes hurt. The so-called special effects barely felt different from having no effects at all.
For some reason, the visuals lacked clarity. She could tell that some genius in the production team had tried to create an ink-painting aesthetic, which was a nice idea in theory. But when combined with whatever indescribable effects they had used, all she saw was a murky mess on the screen.
And the plot…
It went something like this:
Years ago, Elder Sun tampered with the Book of Life and Death, altering the fate of an entire family. As a result, a young man traveled through the rift of time and space, arriving in the underworld, where he discovered that the legendary beings of hell were actually kind and lovable people.
At first, he wanted to seek revenge for his family. But after spending time in the underworld and witnessing the hard work of these dedicated government employees, he started having second thoughts.
Then, he slowly realized that everything was a conspiracy—the real mastermind was plotting to steal the Book of Life and Death to rewrite the mortal world itself.
A great battle between good and evil was about to begin, as gods and spirits from all realms joined forces for an epic showdown against darkness.
Dong Miao: “…”
On paper, the story seemed fine. But the pacing? Completely botched. The beginning dragged on forever with endless, dull narration, and later, when the massive ensemble cast crowded the screen, their faces blurred together in an overwhelming mess that left the audience dizzy and disoriented.
Then there were the shoddy visuals and rage-inducing special effects…
Sitting in the theater, Dong Miao felt increasingly restless, just wanting this disaster to end as soon as possible.
Clearly, she wasn’t the only one.
As she debated whether to leave, the couple in front of her had already made their move, and someone behind her had also slipped out. Seeing this, Dong Miao didn’t hesitate any longer—she got up and followed them out of the screening room.
She was certain that the moment she stepped through the exit, more people followed suit.
Dong Miao wasn’t bold enough to curse out loud in public, but she could clearly hear the couple ahead of her going off. She accidentally caught a glimpse of the girl’s phone screen—and the words “Refund” were displayed in big, bold letters.
By the afternoon, #Refund had climbed to the top of the trending charts.
