Chapter 149: Release
Lu Xu was speechless about his own persona.
As everyone knew, a metaphysics persona was the easiest to collapse because metaphysics was beyond human control. Yet, ever since Lu Xu transitioned into acting, this persona had remained as stable as his career.
The withdrawal of Sanzu River from release sparked a wave of discussions. Even those outside the entertainment industry could tell that something was wrong with the production team. After all, losing over 1 billion like that, yet neither the investors nor the director went crazy, and the actors still calmly received their box office earnings—it was suspicious.
When The Swordsman flopped, Zhang Zhizhen and Zhang Che throwing blame at each other was still a vivid memory for many netizens.
[Suddenly, I feel a bit sorry for Zhang Zhizhen. If he had filmed Sanzu River, it would have been much better for him.]
[Actually putting in money and not putting in money are two completely different things. How nice it must be to just take the paycheck and disappear? Anyway, in a while, the audience will forget about Sanzu River.]
[…The box office for Leviathan has picked up this week. What I find ridiculous is that next week Reverse City is scheduled to release, right? I don’t know if Lu Xu’s metaphysics is too exaggerated, but originally, Say You Love Me was supposed to release the same week as Reverse City, and now it has been pushed to the end of the month.]
Lu Xu: “…”
Lu Xu would never admit that Say You Love Me had been rescheduled due to metaphysical reasons. However, he also couldn’t think of any other reason for the production team’s decision—after all, aside from Reverse City, there were no other highly competitive films in the market that weekend.
Oh well, he decided to just go with it.
Lu Xu even slowly realized that because his persona was too powerful, he had somehow ended up affecting Reverse City’s production team as well.
The failure of Sanzu River made audiences lose trust in star-studded casts, big investments, and large-scale productions. Although Reverse City was not as grand in scale as Sanzu River, it was by no means a low-budget film either.
To sum it up, Lu Xu had ruined Sanzu River → and then ruined Reverse City.
…
After wrapping up his scenes in Reverse City, Lu Xu didn’t have much contact with the crew. Zhao Yifan was one thing, but Director Mu Lang wasn’t the type for casual conversations either.
However, once the movie’s promotional campaign began, Mu Lang did reach out to Lu Xu once or twice, hoping he could put in more effort to promote the film.
Unfortunately, Lu Xu was busy filming Fearless Life and didn’t participate in many roadshows. But since he wasn’t the lead actor of Reverse City, the bulk of the promotional work fell on Zhao Yifan’s shoulders.
Whether it was because Zhao Yifan’s agency had warned him or because Qi Di had taught him the consequences of speaking recklessly, during the Reverse City promotional period, Zhao Yifan didn’t stir up any trouble with Lu Xu.
Their relationship remained as cold as ever—they didn’t follow each other on Weibo and only shared posts from the official Reverse City account.
[With how badly they get along, can Reverse City even do well at the box office?]
[Lu Xu didn’t have to go so hard on Sanzu River. These two movies are only a week apart in release—if Reverse City flops, he won’t have any right to mock Sanzu River either.]
[Honestly, I don’t think Reverse City was a good fit for Lu Xu. He’s never been in a production with such a tense atmosphere—he seems like someone who thrives in more lively and fun crews.]
[Agreed.]
Movie fans admitted that Reverse City had a well-edited trailer. However, with Sanzu River as a precedent, the relationship between the trailer and the actual film felt as disconnected as a fish and a bicycle—completely unrelated. A good trailer alone wasn’t enough to trick audiences into theaters unless Reverse City itself had something truly compelling to offer.
[It’s all Sanzu River’s fault!]
[It’s all the bicycle’s fault!]
Of course, the combination of Director Mu Lang and screenwriter Luo Kun was already enough to attract a portion of moviegoers. Adding in Lu Xu’s past track record and Zhao Yifan’s generally solid reputation, Reverse City still held some expectations for the summer release.
Unfortunately, audiences had been burned too badly by Sanzu River.
With Sanzu River’s failure, Liu Rennong’s reputation, built over years, took a massive hit. Due to Qi Di, audiences were already skeptical of actors from Liu Rennong Studio. Now, with Bei Hong in the mix, even Liu Rennong’s most loyal fans couldn’t help but grumble, “Just what kind of people has he been signing?”
Though the joke about Lu Xu being Liu Rennong’s nemesis had spread widely, everyone knew that in the end, it was just a meme. The real victims were the unfortunate audiences who had to endure the mess.
Of course, any film releasing after Sanzu River was bound to be unlucky.
Mu Lang and Luo Kun, however, remained calm. In the group chat created for the production team, Luo Kun reassured the actors, “No worries. Even if the domestic box office isn’t great, we can sell it overseas to make up for it. We have connections.”
Mu Lang’s past films had all performed well at the box office. But as Luo Kun mentioned, Mu Lang’s films had also won awards abroad, received international theatrical releases, and been distributed as DVDs. Even his lowest-grossing film had still turned a decent profit.
…
Unlike Deception and Feather of Youth, in which Lu Xu had previously starred, Reverse City held an official premiere.
In terms of scale, Reverse City’s premiere was naturally not as grand as Sanzu River’s. That extravagant event had now become evidence of the film’s failure—the more extravagant the premiere, the more ridiculous Sanzu River’s disastrous box office performance seemed in hindsight.
Though Sanzu River had yet to be investigated, it was only a matter of time before the production team faced consequences.
Lu Xu walked the red carpet alone.
Fans already knew he played the villain in the film, but they were still curious about how his role would be portrayed.
Many even felt that Lu Xu didn’t have the typical “villain face”—he seemed more suited to playing a bright, positive, golden-retriever-like character.
“He’s so handsome, he really doesn’t look like a villain at all.”
As reporters snapped photos, they were already drafting headlines in their minds about the rumored tension between Lu Xu and Zhao Yifan—after all, the two hadn’t even walked the red carpet together.
Besides the main cast and crew, Reverse City’s red carpet also featured the creators’ close friends and the film’s investors. Shao Yao and Zheng Xiao were absent, which, as netizens joked, was because “they’ve already shown off their love enough.”
Appearing together on the red carpet were Yue Hui and Li Yan.
Yue Hui was expected, having worked with Lu Xu in Deception, but Li Yan was a surprising addition for the reporters.
Li Yan belonged to an older age bracket compared to Lu Xu. Both were actors known for their strong commercial box office performances yet were somewhat sidelined in artistic circles. Nevertheless, audiences deeply favored their films.
In absolute terms, Lu Xu’s box office numbers weren’t at the top of the industry. But in terms of profit margin, he was far ahead of most other actors in the film industry.
Super profitable, a true golden goose.
“What kind of pairing is this? Do Lu Xu and Li Yan even know each other?”
“I heard the Sanzu River production team invited both Lu Xu and Li Yan, and they both turned it down. Maybe that’s how they bonded?”
“Could they be working together on a future project?”
Even the possibility of Lu Xu and Li Yan acting together was enough to generate plenty of speculation.
“With this kind of lineup, does it mean Director Mu Lang is really confident about the film?”
“Don’t overthink it. Mu Lang’s last movie, Inferno, had the same level of hype. Given his status, isn’t it normal for his premieres to be a bit grand?”
As reporters scanned the venue, they noticed that besides the actors and celebrity guests, a few familiar film critics and journalists from respected movie magazines were also in attendance.
It was a sharp contrast to Sanzu River, where the production team had mostly invited so-called “critics” who were clearly paid to give glowing reviews.
The pre-release buzz for Sanzu River had been heavily influenced by these handpicked critics who attended the premiere and hyped it up.
Inside the theater, reporters quickly noticed that Zhao Yifan and Lu Xu’s seats were—unsurprisingly—separated. Mu Lang and Luo Kun had placed them on opposite sides of the venue.
Although the media had played a role in fueling the narrative of their supposed feud, in reality, most journalists found their strained relationship refreshingly authentic.
At least they weren’t pretending. What they showed in front of reporters was exactly how they acted in front of audiences.
Unlike some celebrities… Well, better not go there.
It wasn’t that they didn’t want to say more—it was just that saying it would probably earn them a legal notice.
Sometimes, it was better to stay out of trouble.
As the cast and crew settled into their seats, and the film critics took their places, the lights dimmed.
The moment the curtain rose, that unmistakable “Mu Lang style” immediately filled the theater.
Reverse City was a story about a city shrouded in darkness.
Mu Lang didn’t base his film on a real-life city but instead created a world filled with darkness, evil, and brutal betrayals. In this city, justice didn’t necessarily triumph over evil. The final outcome might even be one where darkness completely swallowed the light.
Mu Lang’s signature cinematographic style was evident—dim yet sharply defined lighting, interwoven with montage sequences. In an increasingly restless film market, his works still possessed a unique allure that kept audiences engaged.
From the very beginning, Reverse City established its dark and compelling setting.
The protagonist, Ji Chongyang, accidentally stumbled into this world and soon became an undercover agent embedded within a gang.
Zhao Yifan portrayed Ji Chongyang’s sense of displacement convincingly. Even while immersed in darkness, his character remained steadfast in his belief in the existence of light. He worked tirelessly to gather intelligence and relay information to the outside world. Though he occasionally found himself in perilous situations, he always managed to escape unscathed.
In a conventional film, the next step would have been Ji Chongyang growing stronger through a series of escalating dangers, eventually becoming a key figure whom both the gang and law enforcement couldn’t ignore. However, despite his efforts to pass on information, the dark world remained unchanged—people were still being murdered, some lost their organs, and others suffered inhumane abuse.
It was during this time that Ji Chongyang met Luo Ying.
The moment Luo Ying appeared on screen, a subtle disturbance rippled through the theater—something everyone present could sense.
Even Zhao Yifan, seated in the front row, noticed it immediately.
Zhao Yifan silently clenched his fingers, pressing his lips together. However, he managed to maintain his composure, not letting any unpleasant expression show on his face.
Wang Ying, a senior journalist and columnist for Film magazine, placed a checkmark next to Lu Xu’s name.
Lu Xu had merely made his entrance, yet his presence on screen felt even stronger than that of the lead actor, Zhao Yifan.
Or perhaps, it was simply that Luo Ying, the character he portrayed, was more captivating.
Unable to suppress his curiosity, Wang Ying glanced in Mu Lang’s direction. He couldn’t believe Mu Lang hadn’t noticed this disparity, but whether it was intentional on the director’s part or simply that Zhao Yifan’s aura couldn’t hold its ground was unclear.
Or maybe, it was just how the roles were meant to be?
The story of Reverse City had only just begun, and Wang Ying found himself watching intently.
Even though he had only seen half the film, he had already come to a realization—Reverse City might not achieve outstanding box office numbers, but when it came to awards, it just might exceed expectations.
