Chapter 208: Shen Wenjie’s Ordeal
When Zheng Xiao sent the message, Lu Xu was in the middle of drinking a beverage. The moment he saw the message in the group chat, he immediately spit out his drink.
[What?!]
Shao Yao followed up with several reaction stickers.
[It’s already blowing up on the trending list. You two better go check it out.]
Lu Xu hurriedly opened Weibo, but in his rush, his finger accidentally hit the lock button instead, locking his phone. It took him several tries before he finally managed to unlock it.
As soon as he looked at the trending topics, he saw that it had indeed exploded.
Although the images on the trending list were blurry, the figures of Liu Rennong and Shen Wenjie were still recognizable. Shen Wenjie appeared to be holding a knife, the tip pointed directly at Liu Rennong, making the scene look especially terrifying.
These few photos alone had already sparked multiple trending topics. The first one was “Liu Rennong suspected of being targeted for revenge”, and the second one was “Shen Wenjie gone mad.”
The entertainment industry was no stranger to trending topics—year-round, there were endless scandals, public feuds, and exposés, not to mention affairs and tax evasion cases. There was never a shortage of drama. But a situation like this, where a disciple pointed a knife at their mentor, was almost unheard of in the entire industry.
Lu Xu noticed that marketing accounts had already started compiling lists of celebrities’ online activity—at a time like this, no celebrity would ignore the situation.
This was truly explosive news!
According to reports, Liu Rennong wasn’t seriously injured, but there was a deep cut on his neck. Still, he had been utterly terrified—his entire face was deathly pale. He probably never imagined that Shen Wenjie would suddenly act so impulsively.
“What on earth happened?”
Lu Xu was extremely curious.
He had always felt that, given Liu Rennong’s penchant for stirring up trouble, it was only a matter of time before karma caught up with him. However, Liu Rennong was incredibly resilient—he could go to extreme lengths just to clean up his reputation, repeating the cycle at least a hundred times over.
Lu Xu figured that for quite some time to come, he would still see Liu Rennong stirring up trouble as usual.
But then, out of nowhere, Shen Wenjie suddenly showed up at Liu Rennong’s door.
“I’ll go ask around,” Zheng Xiao said.
Zheng Xiao went to inquire about the situation, and Shao Yao was probably doing the same. Lu Xu had previously heard that Shen Wenjie had gone missing, and he had assumed that Liu Rennong had done something to him.
Later, when Shen Wenjie opened a new account, Lu Xu guessed that he hadn’t disappeared naturally—he had likely just lost the ability to speak publicly online.
Lu Xu was about to ask his manager about it, but before he could, Xu Wen called him first.
“Here’s the general situation. You know that Uncertain Return didn’t make any money. The investors couldn’t cover the losses, and Shen Wenjie couldn’t even meet the theater requirements. Since he was the one who signed the contract, he had to bear part of the financial shortfall.”
“For Shen Wenjie, that’s an astronomical amount of money.”
“Liu Rennong was involved too, but exposing that incident didn’t affect him at all. He’s still sitting comfortably as the chairman of the Golden Flame Awards jury, still shooting his films as usual. And Shen Wenjie? He’s drowning in debt, and making another movie is out of the question.”
“Even if he wanted to drag Liu Rennong down with him, he didn’t even have a chance to speak out. Liu Rennong had a tight grip on public opinion and was even throwing dirt on Shen Wenjie.”
“When Uncertain Return flopped at the box office, Shen Wenjie immediately threw Liu Rennong under the bus. That alone showed that Shen Wenjie had a strong sense of jealousy—if he was suffering, he naturally wanted Liu Rennong to suffer too. But instead, Liu Rennong kept shifting the blame onto him, and Shen Wenjie finally snapped.”
“Liu Rennong is still controlling the narrative, painting Shen Wenjie as a madman. But before Shen Wenjie went to confront him, he had already scheduled a public letter, explaining everything from start to finish.”
“He’s in debt now. It was Liu Rennong who guided him through the agreements and theater negotiations. He never even knew those people—if Liu Rennong hadn’t introduced him, he wouldn’t have had any way to get in touch with them!”
In his letter, Shen Wenjie also exposed the fact that Liu Rennong had been taking a cut of his earnings. He wrote that although he was nominally Liu Rennong’s student, in reality, from the very first day Liu Rennong recommended him as a director, he was required to pay Liu Rennong a percentage of his income.
Beyond that, many of Liu Rennong’s so-called representative works—including How Much Do You Know—were actually completed by students like Shen Wenjie. Even Family and Nation, which Shen Wenjie didn’t participate in, had other students co-directing. Because the film had multiple directors, the shots were pieced together in a way that felt disjointed.
During their time “assisting” Liu Rennong in directing, they didn’t receive a single cent in compensation.
And it wasn’t just them—actors signed under Liu Rennong’s studio faced the same situation. On the surface, they appeared to be getting ample resources, but their actual income was worse than that of third-tier celebrities. Almost all of their earnings were swallowed up by Liu Rennong.
[I regret everything now. The root of it all was simply my dream of becoming a director—wanting to direct as soon as possible, wanting to have my own work earlier.]
[Now, I’m drowning in debt. If I still had the chance to keep making films, I’d be willing to work hard, one step at a time, to pay off what I owe, rather than burning through my parents’ lifetime savings. To raise money for me, my father got into a car accident on his way to visit relatives, and my mother fell ill overnight. Living in this world no longer holds any meaning for me.]
[If I had another chance, even if I had to start from the bottom doing menial tasks, I’d take it one step at a time rather than choosing what seemed like a shortcut paved with flowers. Every step I took felt like stepping on a sponge—light, unreal. It was as if there was an abyss beneath my feet, but I never even realized it.]
This time, Shen Wenjie didn’t resort to sarcastic remarks or post ambiguous photos. He simply laid out his experiences, detailing everything that had happened to him after meeting Liu Rennong.
Although Shen Wenjie was not entirely innocent, what he went through afterward could only be described as tragic.
Meanwhile, Liu Rennong faced no consequences whatsoever. He was even bold enough to openly manipulate the Golden Flame Awards for personal gain.
Liu Rennong had tricked others more than once, yet he was still able to continue doing so without repercussions.
Shen Wenjie had no way out. When he saw people speaking in defense of Liu Rennong—even though he knew that many of them were paid bots—his mind buzzed with a deafening hum. Before he realized it, he had already gripped the knife in his hand.
Then, he went to Liu Rennong’s house, made up an excuse to lure him downstairs, and pulled out the knife.
For a long time, Shen Wenjie had been emotionally shattered, and his physical health didn’t seem great either. Whether in terms of strength or mental state, he was no match for Liu Rennong.
His knife did graze Liu Rennong, but it didn’t hit a vital area. Liu Rennong managed to dodge and called the police.
Shen Wenjie was taken away, but the incident was enough to shake the entire entertainment industry.
Online discussions exploded, with countless opinions flying around. Later, when Shen Wenjie’s letter was released, netizens gradually started to believe his side of the story.
Before Uncertain Return flopped, Shen Wenjie had at least been a somewhat well-known director within the industry. He had won a few awards and was fairly respected. He should have made a decent amount of money as well.
If he hadn’t been pushed to the edge, he would have had no reason to go head-to-head with Liu Rennong.
Everyone knew that the entertainment industry was full of so-called “respectable” people. Even though behind the scenes, deals were layered upon deals, and illegal activities were far from uncommon, to the public—especially in the eyes of fans—some of these figures were so clean they hadn’t even been in a relationship, let alone done anything truly disgraceful.
Due to the attention this incident garnered, the police issued a statement confirming that a suspect, Shen (full name withheld), had injured Liu (full name withheld) over personal matters in a certain residential area. This essentially cemented the trending topic.
Since Liu Rennong wasn’t seriously injured, it meant that Shen Wenjie might be released soon. As long as he knew where Liu Rennong lived, and as long as Liu Rennong continued making public appearances, there was always the possibility of him coming back for another confrontation.
Online discussions continued:
[Shen Wenjie is a madman, let me start with that. But if what he said is true, then I personally believe Liu Rennong is no longer fit to stay in the entertainment industry.]
[+1. If I were in his position, seeing Liu Rennong walk away unscathed while I lost everything, I’d probably break down too.]
[People should bear the consequences of their choices. Shen Wenjie was greedy, and he paid the price for it. Liu Rennong screwed him over, and now he’s paying the price in his own way.]
[Honestly… after what happened with Uncertain Return, Liu Rennong should have stopped. He shouldn’t have kept provoking Shen Wenjie. Everyone knows he was involved in the high screening rate for that movie. He dumped all the blame on Shen Wenjie, and Shen endured it back then. But now, more than two years later, Liu Rennong is still poking at him over and over again. Did he really think someone at rock bottom would just take it?]
As for how things developed after that, Lu Xu wasn’t too sure. He only knew that Shen Wenjie had probably been taken into custody and that Liu Rennong had gone home to recuperate.
The trending discussions had also died down somewhat. The industry likely didn’t want this matter to blow up any further—probably out of fear that it might inspire copycats. After all, this was a serious incident, and no one could guarantee that there wouldn’t be another Shen Wenjie in the future.
However, after this incident, the cinema chains, as well as others who operated in a similar fashion to Liu Rennong, seemed to have restrained themselves moving forward.
In particular, several high-ranking executives from the cinema chains who had previously been quite outspoken during the screening controversy—often stepping forward for interviews—gradually disappeared from the public eye after this event.
The box office for Family and Nation completely collapsed, while Life on the Line firmly secured its position as the Spring Festival box office champion.
Qi Di, who had already left the industry and returned to an ordinary life, made a rare appearance in an interview. He emphasized the miserable experience he had endured while working under Liu Rennong’s studio. He admitted that his previous hostility toward Lu Xu stemmed from his financial struggles and the verbal abuse he suffered at the studio. He acknowledged that some of his actions had been wrong but claimed he had been unable to control himself at the time.
Bei Hong, still signed under Liu Rennong’s studio, seemed to sense that the entire operation was on the verge of collapse. In a hurry to protect himself, he also spoke out in his own defense. He claimed that during the filming of Family and Nation, he had barely even seen Liu Rennong, dismissing the idea that he had angered Liu Rennong as complete nonsense.
Revenue cuts were, of course, a real issue. He revealed that he had earned almost nothing from filming Sanzu River, and Family and Nation had been even worse—he had practically worked for free.
Bei Hong even subtly revealed that Liu Rennong’s infamous “melancholy photos” had been professionally staged, with Liu Rennong personally directing the shoot. “I’m an actor, after all—I know how to find the right angles,” he quipped.
Though he didn’t speak too harshly, it was clear that he was determined to sever ties with Liu Rennong at all costs.
Sure enough, not long after this interview aired, Liu Rennong Studio disbanded, and Bei Hong successfully signed with a new agency.
Of course, his treatment at the new company was nowhere near as favorable as it had been under Liu Rennong. Although the revenue cut was lower, the exposure provided by Liu Rennong Studio had been unmatched.
However, Bei Hong showed no signs of dissatisfaction. After all, he still intended to stay in the entertainment industry. If he had remained in Liu Rennong’s studio, he would have lost even the basic qualification to continue as an actor.
Liu Rennong, once a director who had basked in the spotlight and made waves in the industry, seemed to vanish overnight.
He wasn’t officially blacklisted, nor was his disappearance simply due to the disastrous failure of Family and Nation. He had just faded away without a trace, as if he had never existed.
It wasn’t that he feared public scrutiny—he likely feared the mere existence of Shen Wenjie.
Even though Liu Rennong had disbanded his studio and quietly exited the industry, netizens couldn’t help but speculate: where had all his money gone?
Based on the details Shen Wenjie had revealed, Liu Rennong was perhaps one of the most skilled money-makers in the industry, accumulating a fortune beyond ordinary comprehension. Aside from his ties with the Golden Flame Awards committee, what had he been chasing all this wealth for?
For now, the answer remained unknown.
At this point, the Golden Flame Awards committee also issued a statement distancing itself from Liu Rennong, expressing “shock” over Shen Wenjie’s experience. Unfortunately, by then, no one in the audience was willing to believe them.
