Chapter 161: Doesn’t Matter (25% Forum Format)
This year’s Spring Festival is at the end of January. Not too early, not too late.
There’s always a lot of buzz around the Spring Festival movie season. This time, two major directors are going head-to-head. Although they haven’t said it out loud, it’s obvious that both are out to win. The entire entertainment industry is eating popcorn over it — including fans of Xie Xizhao, who’d been in a quiet period. But while they were watching the drama unfold… their own “house” collapsed.
Even so, they still had to do data support. The official announcement quickly shot to the top of the trending list. Under the official Weibo post, it was all: “Congrats on the announcement, hope the collaboration goes well, looking forward to seeing actor Xie Xizhao!” But in private group chats, it was all: “Aaaah help! I’m suffocating!!”
A true double life — dramatic and entertaining.
There had been some insider rumors before, but now that it was officially announced, both fans and onlookers mostly reacted with disbelief.
As one film blogger put it: [An art film going head-to-head with a commercial blockbuster, a new director charging into the Spring Festival slot — someone between Xuan Yang and Xie Xizhao has got to be crazy. And I hope to god it’s not me.]
Just a few simple sentences, yet they hit the core of the controversy.
At the end of the day, no one’s denying Xuan Yang’s talent or Xie Xizhao’s popularity. But the combined debuff of genre and timing is just too strong. Even people who generally think Xie Xizhao can do no wrong can’t help but worry a bit.
Only a few hours after the official release date was announced, a popular thread popped up on a well-known film forum discussing the situation.
[Passerby Post / #1 on trending list]
1L: Anyone got any ideas?
2L: My verdict: from the director to the cast, they’ve all lost their minds. Waiting for them to flop.
3L: I seriously don’t know what XXZ is thinking. I let it slide when he went traveling, considering how nonstop he’d been working. But now this? Thank god I’m not a fan — I’d be having a heart attack.
Does he realize how many people are waiting to watch him fall from grace? I’ll bet you anything, if this movie doesn’t top the box office, they’ll rip him to shreds. Haters don’t care who your competition is or how niche your film’s genre might be. 🙂
4L: Uh, nevertheless
Just saying “I’m not a fan” doesn’t actually mean you’re not a fan.
5L: @3L, have you been away for a while? This whole sub has basically turned into a closet fanclub for XXZ. Ask anyone and it’s “I’m not a fan,” press a bit and it’s “The fans are chill but y’all are losing it,” press again and it’s “I’m a career-focused fan, not a real fan.”
We’re all used to it by now. @3L, you’ll get used to it too.
6L: I forgot what I was gonna say after reading 3L, but 4L is absolutely right.
7L: Hmm… feeling kind of emotional.
This sub went from being the last untouched zone not controlled by XXZ fans — a noble haven of true haters — to what it is now: a slowly mentally breaking space. That all happened in, what, six months?
Is this the gu king of C-entertainment?
8L: Can’t beat him. Dude said he was feeling down and just disappeared for half a year. Arrogant and stubborn — everyone thought he was done for. But he comes back and his popularity hasn’t dropped at all.
What other new-gen actor or actress can pull that off? Even among the veterans, not many can.
Anyway, I’ve made peace with it. Being a fan of a top-tier legend is pure joy. It’s not even embarrassing — no idea why some people still try to act tough.
9L: I know this one — becoming a fan of XXZ is like rejecting your old highbrow, aloof self. Don’t poke their lungs like that (i.e., don’t hurt their pride too hard).
10L: The fanwars outside are insane. I came in here to take shelter.
With XXZ’s kind of “main character” aura, he probably won’t flop for a hundred years.
But seriously, he really did take time off just because he was feeling down? I thought it was just fake news from gossip accounts.
11L: He said it himself on livestream — there’s even a cut of it. I think it’s great, honestly.
Learning how to manage your emotions is a kind of emotional maturity. Plus, he wasn’t in denial or hiding it, which actually sets a good example.
It’s just this movie though…
Not to be mean, but what were he and Xuan Yang thinking? Releasing an art film during Chinese New Year? They’re really not afraid of dying, huh.
12L: Are they just banking on XXZ’s star power?
13L: Fine, he’s a top-tier celeb, he can be willful — just hope he doesn’t end up fighting all of C-ent alone and getting gang-b*aten.
Let’s be real, those two old directors aren’t exactly easy to deal with. Xuan Yang might not cause as much of a splash as XXZ when he wins awards, but everyone’s watching. No way they’d let a younger guy rise up so easily.
Not all seniors are like Lu Yong — a true paragon of virtue and art.
14L: True. But I don’t think this move comes from overconfidence.
XXZ might be amazing, but he seems pretty humble in person. Xuan Yang even more so.
Feels more like they genuinely think this movie suits the Spring Fest slot and that they have faith in its quality.
15L: Finally someone who thinks like me. I’m honestly not worried about XXZ — he’s made a career out of shutting down the haters.
I’m just super curious what kind of movie this is. The behind-the-scenes leaks look totally unhinged.
16L: Tao Yan’s Summer looked unhinged too, but the actual film wasn’t that crazy.
Feels like Xuan Yang’s style is chaotic on the surface, but very rational — even a bit cold — at its core.
Now that I think about it, this kind of marketing might be the same vibe.
17L: LOL. Is this some kind of “suppress before you rise” marketing stunt? Going all-in, huh?
Xuan Yang, is that you? Log into your main account if you’re gonna hype yourself up like that.
……
“What are you looking at? Grinning like an idiot.”
A familiar voice rang out beside her. Fang Yuwei quickly put away her phone and coughed.
Then she said, “…Just reading the forums.”
“Where’s Teacher Xie?” she asked.
“In there with Xuan Yang, reviewing the cut again,” Du Wei replied, then clicked his tongue.
“I finally get why everyone in the industry loves working with Teacher Xie. Dude’s totally hands-on and doesn’t put on airs. It’s way too comfortable working with him.”
As he was saying this, someone walked out.
Du Wei’s attitude flipped in an instant — like flipping a page in a book. With a fawning smile, he said, “Teacher Xie, how’s it feeling?”
“I heard all that, you know,” Xie Xizhao sighed and sat down on the couch. “I just have OCD. Don’t put a halo on me.”
“Yes yes yes,” Du Wei went along easily. “You’re absolutely right.”
Xie Xizhao chuckled. “We’ve reviewed it already, not like we can change anything now. Just wanted to see how it plays out.”
He paused. “Xuan Yang and I both think it’s pretty good.”
As soon as he finished speaking, everyone in the room finally let out a breath of relief.
Off to the side, Xuan Yang gave his first genuine smile in days. He slumped down next to Du Wei and scooped up the wandering Chinchilla cat into his arms, burying his face in its fur for some heavy snuggles.
In truth, even though Xie Xizhao had just weathered an emotional storm before filming began, and the actual shoot turned out just as chaotic as everyone expected, when it came to the film’s promotional strategy afterward — everyone remained calm and composed.
Simply put, they were aiming to seize the film industry’s biggest traffic window of the year.
And they were confident — fully confident — that they could go head-to-head with any movie released during that same period.
The final decision was made by Xie Xizhao, in his role as one of the investors.
But really, no one on the team had any objections.
They had filmed the project together.
They’d all seen the final cut.
And they were satisfied.
The media frenzy outside? To them, it was just months and months of day-in, day-out refining work.
In the end, all that remained was the satisfaction of a job well done.
Of course, now that things had settled down, their minds were starting to wander a bit.
For example—
“Hey, Teacher Xie, if you win Best Actor for this, wouldn’t that break a record?” Du Wei said.
The current youngest Best Actor winner had taken the award at age 28. That film had been a fluke too — released during the off-season when audiences were bored out of their minds, and it ended up blowing up unexpectedly. Honestly, it was more that the film became a hit than the actor himself.
Xie Xizhao had just turned 26 this year.
If he took home Best Actor, it would be a clear case of the actor carrying the film.
Unprecedented. Possibly never to be repeated.
Du Wei didn’t dare think about it any further — the more he thought, the more surreal it all felt.
Xie Xizhao said, “It’s not even a sure thing. Let’s focus on the actual stuff we need to do.”
And there was plenty to do.
All kinds of formalities, public opinion management, and endless social obligations.
Most importantly, the Lunar New Year was just around the corner.
This year, Xie Xizhao hadn’t accepted too many New Year variety show invitations. He cleared out several days just to go home.
His parents were both surprised and a little worried — they subtly asked Jing Jin for days, trying to find out if something had happened to him, which left Xie Xizhao both touched and exasperated.
He told them, “Nothing’s wrong. I just missed you guys.”
His dad responded, “Aiyo.”
With a face full of mock disdain.
Then secretly went to the market and spent ages picking out the freshest meat.
When Jing Jin came over to visit and sent a photo of their family fridge to Xie Xizhao, he laughed out loud.
Jing Jin said: “Brother, I’ve already bought movie tickets for all our relatives, near and far. Let’s gooo!”
Xie Xizhao sent her a red envelope in return — but strangely, he didn’t feel particularly anxious.
Actually, he never really had been.
Or rather, it wasn’t anxiety — it was tension.
Whether on stage or in front of the camera, Xie Xizhao was already extremely experienced. And even before he entered the entertainment industry, he had been a student leader — he’d handled plenty of high-pressure events. So stage fright was rarely an issue.
His real problem in the past was being overly tense.
To put it simply, he had been subconsciously wound up all the time due to lingering mental trauma.
Now that most of that shadow had lifted, and he no longer carried that desperate need to prove something, the tension naturally dissolved.
He could finally just be himself.
As for the Best Actor award Du Wei mentioned — he genuinely didn’t care much about it.
Same with the previous rumors about him “missing out” on Best TV Actor.
This whole thing was kind of a misunderstanding anyway.
Of the three major television awards, aside from Stellar Awards, the other two — to put it nicely — were “established institutions,” and to put it bluntly, were all about seniority.
Xie Xizhao hadn’t expected anything from them in the first place. But somehow, rumors started swirling that if the drama Specter had aired normally, he might’ve swept up his second Best TV Actor award.
“One drama, one award?” Xie Xizhao laughed. “Come on, even gossip needs to follow some basic rules.”
Fang Qingqing, on the other hand, kind of bought into it: “Well… you never know.”
She said, with a tinge of regret, “I feel like you’ve got good luck with awards.”
Xie Xizhao was momentarily speechless.
After a moment, he said, “Is it possible that the fact this show never even finished airing means your idea might be just a little too optimistic?”
Either way, missed or not, it was still a loss.
Now that he’d shifted to a different field, Xie Xizhao was just going with the flow. Lately, he’d been more interested in diving into the details of acting.
For example, in The Player, there were quite a few scenes where he improvised on the spot, then later went back and refined and layered them repeatedly.
After The Player wrapped, he signed on to a slower-paced variety show.
The rest of the time, he stayed home reading books about acting.
And when you’re not too busy, time flies.
In the blink of an eye, it was the end of the year.
The early hype outside had started to quiet down a bit over the last couple days, but inside the industry — a whole drama was playing out.
With so many films competing in the Spring Festival slot, theaters had to decide how to divvy up their screenings. The cinema chains were on the verge of a meltdown. There were already two veteran directors they couldn’t afford to offend, and to make it worse, a surprising number of people in the business had this blind faith in Xie Xizhao — even though The Player was clearly a more artistic film, many were still hesitant to drastically cut its screening share.
And so… everything hit a stalemate.
This was Xuan Yang’s first foray into film — he didn’t have any connections to speak of.
But he wasn’t in a rush at all, happily buzzing around with promo work.
Meanwhile, Du Wei, the sly old fox, could smell just how deep these waters ran. He made a point of asking Xie Xizhao directly what they should do.
What Du Wei meant was: they could grease a few palms if needed — and he’d cover the cost himself. Consider it his way of supporting his childhood friend’s career.
Xie Xizhao was genuinely touched, but he said, “No need to wade into muddy waters right now.”
At that moment, Xie Xizhao was at home making dumplings. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows of his loungewear.
There was a TV playing faintly in the living room, but the kitchen itself was quiet. As he scooped the filling and folded the wrappers, he said to Du Wei: “This film of ours is destined to rely on word of mouth. It won’t go mainstream. Once the word gets out and the buzz builds, the screening rates will rise naturally. If we pump it up from the start and it’s not actually good, people will know it’s paid-for hype. It won’t be worth it.”
Besides, it’d just offend people.
He didn’t say that last part aloud — but he knew Du Wei would understand.
“Sigh,” Du Wei said, “Actually, it’s not even a big deal for Xuan Yang…”
But this time, he truly was thinking about Xie Xizhao.
His situation was unique — he was both a serious actor and a top-tier traffic magnet.
If the film flopped right out of the gate, he’d absolutely be mocked for it.
“It doesn’t matter,” Xie Xizhao said.
And when he said it didn’t matter — he meant it.
Two film industry titans tearing each other’s hair out? He didn’t care.
Cinema chain reps probing him for a stance? He answered them calmly.
People stuck in the middle between the two sides were quietly grateful, and their allegiances tilted just a little bit more in his favor.
Eventually, when presale numbers came out, The Player ranked third.
It got mocked like crazy online — but he still posted on Weibo as usual, showing not a single crack in his composure.
But on the day of the premiere, he still bought a ticket out of his own pocket.
On the first day of the Lunar New Year, at 9:00 a.m., Xie Xizhao walked into a movie theater near his home.
Alone.
