Famous! Ch.148

Chapter 148: The Debate on “Sanzu River” Continues

Discussions about Sanzu River were also heating up on film forums.

Forum users, who were constantly exposed to entertainment industry gossip and occasionally received insider leaks, had noticed something peculiar about Sanzu River as soon as filming began. Some users felt that the movie’s trajectory resembled that of The Swordsman.

One user even created a dedicated thread, detailing various issues with Sanzu River.

However, due to the overwhelming number of posts on the forum, that particular thread was quickly buried. The main reason was that Sanzu River had more than one big-name celebrity in its cast, and ordinary users dared not offend them.

Yet, after Sanzu River was released, the old thread resurfaced once again.

The first half of the thread had initially focused on analyzing problems spotted in leaked set photos, but the latter half had almost entirely been taken over by fan discussions. The post was revived because of one particular reply:

[OP, you’re a prophet!]

Other users chimed in:

[How many people like me got scammed? I bought the IMAX 3D version for 50 yuan per ticket. Oh, and to show filial piety, I even bought one for each of my parents. That’s 150 yuan! Do you know how many better things I could have done with that money?]

[I’ve seen both The Swordsman and Sanzu River. Honestly, the production team could have just robbed us outright, but instead, they gave me a so-called ‘visually romantic’ PowerPoint presentation. So kind of them.]

[Sitting in the theater, I kept wondering—what on earth am I watching? What even were those special effects? The skulls looked ridiculously fake, the underworld river looked even faker, and what was the first half of the movie even about?]

[Refund!!! Pay me for my emotional distress!!!]

[Why didn’t I see OP’s post earlier? Now I just feel bad about the money I wasted!]

[I hate this!!!]

Audiences who went out of their way to watch Sanzu River generally gave it the same review: “Completely incoherent.” The narration was long-winded, the use of empty space excessive, and while some shots appeared “artistic” at first glance, from a storytelling perspective, this so-called “art” could hardly be considered a narrative.

Then, viewers noticed the name Zhang Zhizhen in the film’s credits.

[Got it. A fantasy version of The Swordsman, huh?]

[LMAO, they spent hundreds of million just to make the audience sit through a glorified variety show. Who’s the real sucker here?]

[So even the production team knew Zhang Zhizhen was a liability, huh? That’s why they avoided mentioning him in the promotions and quietly stuffed his name into the end credits, hoping no one would notice?]

In reality, audiences hadn’t expected Sanzu River to have a particularly deep or complex plot. When it came to special effects-driven films, all they needed was good visual spectacle—some weakness in the story was forgivable.

[These effects look like they cost 50 cents to make!!]

[I just want to ask the production team—where did all that money go?]

[…Honestly, spending 50 yuan on this was a waste. I’d reconsider if it were 5 yuan.]

[Pfft, even if it were 5 yuan, I’d still demand emotional damages.]

Under the trending tag #Refund, countless users flooded the comments with:

[Did a dog make these special effects?]

Given Lu Xu’s well-known reputation as a “dog” (a running joke among fans), his supporters quickly jumped in to defend him:

[What did dogs ever do to deserve this?]

[The little puppy refuses to take the blame for this disaster.]

[??? LMAO, stop treating Lu Xu like an actual dog.]

[Wait… Are we really blaming the bad CGI on dogs? Poor thing must be feeling so wronged. Honestly, I haven’t seen a film where both the plot and special effects were this bad in a long time. Watching this felt like raising a virtual pet.]

While defending Lu Xu, his fans couldn’t help but feel relieved for him:

[Good thing Lu Xu was smart enough to dodge this movie.]

[Bei Hong finally landed a major role. Back then, he was acting all high and mighty, as if he was punching Lu Xu with one hand and stepping on an award-winning actor with the other. The production even brought in a bunch of people to prop him up. So, what now? Did the so-called ‘rising star’ suddenly burn out?]

[LMAO, why do I feel like Lu Xu’s reflexes are sharper than a real dog’s? With Sanzu River’s lineup, there weren’t many actors in the industry who wouldn’t be tempted.]

[…They dragged Lu Xu through the mud so hard to promote Sanzu River, only to crash and burn halfway. Who gave the production team the courage to pull that stunt? Zhang Zhizhen?]

Just one day after its release, Sanzu River’s reputation had nosedived. Some of the film’s worst CGI moments—like the dragon’s tail whip and the ghostly skeletons—were turned into GIFs by netizens, and the results were shocking. The effects looked almost identical to the ones from a certain game company’s low-budget “Brother, st*b me!” animations made for Arabian tycoons.

[Honestly, the game effects were better!]

[I lost it. The moment I saw that CGI in the theater, I literally burst out laughing. Everyone around me thought I was crazy!]

[At this point, I’m seriously wondering if Zhang Zhizhen did this on purpose. He knew The Swordsman had a terrible reputation, so he deliberately used Sanzu River as a scapegoat. Think about it—Sanzu River had a much bigger budget than The Swordsman, and the cast was way more stacked. A few years down the line, when people talk about legendary flops, will they even remember The Swordsman anymore?]

Despite the flood of criticism about the terrible CGI, Sanzu River’s production team remained silent. They also refused to directly address the big question on everyone’s mind—where exactly did all that money go?

However, while they ignored those complaints, the production team had no intention of letting the “Thank God Lu Xu didn’t take this role” sentiment slide. They hit back—hard.

The official Sanzu River production account released a serious statement, accusing a certain celebrity’s fanbase of organizing large-scale smear campaigns against the film. They called the behavior “malicious” and warned:

[Heaven sees all. That celebrity will surely pay the price for this.]

Netizens reacted immediately:

[Has the production team lost its mind?]

[Oh? Are we calling people out now? Just say the name already.]

[LMAO, ‘Heaven sees all’? Well, whether it’s people or heaven, one thing’s for sure—nobody’s watching Sanzu River.]

As soon as Sanzu River’s official account posted the statement, Lu Xu also made a new statement.

Lu Xu: [Production team, aren’t you overthinking this? I have absolutely no connection to Sanzu River anymore. Why would I bother slandering you?]

The gossip-loving netizens: “…”

They vaguely recalled that this was the exact wording Sanzu River’s production team had used to mock Lu Xu back in the day.

But he wasn’t done yet.

Lu Xu: [To me, even a 50-yuan ticket feels expensive. Spending 500,000 just to bash this movie? That would hurt more than cutting off a piece of my own flesh.]

The internet erupted:

[EXACTLY!]

[AAAAHHHHH Lu Puppy said what we were all thinking! Do they think 50 yuan isn’t real money?]

[What’s wrong with bashing Sanzu River? Huh? I wasted a whole 50 yuan on it! I’m dragging this movie through the mud out of pure spite! I’d do it for free! Hell, I’d even pay to do it!]

[Count me in! Pure spite +1!]

[Wait, the only thing I don’t understand is… Sanzu River needs to pay people to trash it? This movie is garbage all on its own. Every actor who starred in it is already on my blacklist.]

Seeing how things were escalating, Lu Xu seemed to have a realization. He posted another comment on his homepage:

[Since everyone already thinks I’m trashing it… wouldn’t it be a shame if I didn’t actually do it?]

Netizens:

[DO IT!]

[And make sure to go hard! After all, they already used you for marketing and dragged you down—without even paying you for it!]

[We’ve done the math for Lu Puppy. Since he supposedly spent ‘500,000’ to bash Sanzu River, the production team actually owes him 3 million in compensation.]

Before Lu Xu could even respond, netizens had already started tagging the official Sanzu River account, demanding they pay him.

[And that includes damages for Bei Hong’s face traumatizing me!]

[HAHAHAHA I was just about to say this! When Bei Hong was throwing shade at Lu Xu before, I thought he looked just okay—you know, that ‘high-class’ kind of look. But under the big screen, all his flaws were way too obvious. I just wanna ask—how did he have the audacity to shade Lu Xu?]

[Now that you mention it, I’d also like some compensation…]

By the end of its opening day, moviegoers had a clear understanding of just how bad Sanzu River was.

But the real problem? It wasn’t the only film in theaters.

Releasing in the same time slot was another film, Leviathan, whose visual effects and storyline were leagues ahead of Sanzu River.

It wasn’t that audiences blindly worshipped Hollywood films. In fact, at least on opening day, Sanzu River had a higher screen allocation and better box office numbers than Leviathan. After all, it was a rare domestic CGI-heavy blockbuster, and moviegoers were willing to show support with their wallets.

Even if Sanzu River had been slightly worse than Leviathan, audiences would have been forgiving. After all, China’s VFX industry was still developing. Even with international teams involved, the final product was bound to be less polished than Hollywood’s best.

But no one expected their goodwill to be thrown straight into the trash.

Sanzu River wasn’t just bad—it was utterly devoid of anything worthwhile.

If they had to sum it up in one word? “Scam.”

[Compared to Leviathan, the disappointment is even more unbearable. Sanzu River completely betrayed my expectations.]

On its first day, Sanzu River pulled in an impressive box office total. With an all-star cast, celebrities personally booking out theaters, and fans enthusiastically supporting the film, it raked in a staggering 360 million yuan in just one day.

If the film’s quality had been any good, this would have been a promising start. Following a normal box office trend, Sanzu River had the potential to reach 4 billion yuan in total earnings.

After all, aside from fan-driven sales, there were also moviegoers eager to support homegrown CGI-heavy blockbusters.

But Sanzu River wasn’t just bad—it happened to debut alongside Leviathan, a direct comparison point that made its flaws even more glaring.

No one wanted to admit that a domestic film had been completely outclassed by a foreign one, not unless it was absolutely undeniable.

And Sanzu River? It betrayed expectations so hard that the backlash was brutal.

Thanks to strong pre-sales and an explosive first day, ticketing platforms had initially projected Sanzu River’s total box office to reach 4 billion yuan.

Then came Day 2—box office numbers were cut in half. The entire day’s earnings didn’t even reach 100 million.

This was still better than The Swordsman, considering Sanzu River had a bigger cast and strong fanbase support from multiple fandoms.

By the end of Day 2, ticketing platforms adjusted their total revenue projection down to 2 billion yuan.

[They slashed it in half!]

Then came Day 3—another sharp decline. The total box office projection dropped to 1 billion yuan.

Netizens: “…”

[Lost 3 billion in three days. That’s faster than my game tokens disappearing.]

[At this rate, can they even break even?]

Day 3 was a Sunday, and Sanzu River’s ticket sales were already plummeting at an alarming rate.

Then came Day 4, a weekday—and the box office results could only be described as catastrophic.

Netizens gradually realized that even reaching the 1 billion box office milestone might be a pipe dream for Sanzu River.

Negative news about the film started spreading like wildfire online—rumors of the production team favoring Bei Hong while sidelining other stars, reports of an A-list actor’s scenes being cut, whispers about an actor using 12 stunt doubles, and even claims that an award-winning actress got injured on set.

When Sanzu River first premiered, dozens of celebrities had enthusiastically shared the movie’s promotional posts on Weibo, showing their support.

Not even a week later, half of them had quietly deleted their posts.

One celebrity even erased Sanzu River from their bio without a word.

As for the actor whose scenes had been cut—his fans initially rallied behind him, outraged on his behalf.

But after the film’s release… they went silent too.

[Cut = Didn’t act = Didn’t lose anything.]

A flawless logic.

In fact, his fans ended up thanking the production team for sparing him from the disaster.

Then, five days after its release, Sanzu River’s production team officially announced the film’s withdrawal from theaters. […We sincerely thank the audience who accompanied this movie on its journey. Until we meet again!]

[Don’t come back!]

[Seriously. Never again.]

But the withdrawal itself wasn’t the most shocking part.

What truly caught everyone’s attention was the timing—because just 54 seconds before the announcement, yes, a mere 54 seconds—

Lu Xu posted a video of himself riding a bicycle.

It wasn’t intentional.

His new movie just happened to include a scene where the protagonist rides a bike, and earlier, Zheng Xiao had mocked his poor cycling skills.

So Lu Xu wanted to prove that he had mastered the art of biking.

And, well… show off his new ride.

[?]

[A real menace on the road.]

[I double-checked. It really was just a 54-second difference. Absolutely terrifying. Lu Xu, are you sure you don’t have an inside man in the Sanzu River crew?]

[The bicycle version of shooting a bull from a distance.]

[The magical power of love, bike edition—another group of dead souls lost under the wheels.]

Lu Xu: “……”

At this point, he couldn’t clear his name even if he jumped into the Yellow River.

[Hahahaha, I’m sure Lu Xu wasn’t doing it on purpose. He was just happily riding his little bike, and wasn’t he playing a big scientist? That character genuinely likes to ride to stay healthy.]

In the end, it was Lu Xu vs. the Sanzu River crew, and the winner was Lu Xu—for the Nth time.

Bei Hong’s first big push in the entertainment industry ultimately fell flat.

After further analysis, netizens reached a new conclusion—Lu Xu had cursed the entire Liu Rennong Studio.

[Metaphysics Master Lu Xu, special power—Breaking Willows.]

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