CDJMM – Volume 4 – Chapter 38 Filming in the Interstellar Era (38)

As soon as Liu Yinxiu walked out of the Arts Center, he was stopped by a staff member:

“Could you please fill out this questionnaire about the film? We’ll give you some movie-related merchandise.”

“There are freebies?” A clear, crisp female voice chimed in from behind him. “Can I fill one out too?”

“Certainly. Thank you!”

Liu Yinxiu turned his head and saw that it was the pair of siblings from another province.

The questionnaire was simple—just two or three questions, mainly asking for their thoughts about the film.

The younger sister was lively and cheerful. While tapping away on the terminal, she chatted with the staff member as if they were old friends: “When will the movie be released to the public? I want to watch it again!”

The staff member smiled, eyes squinting: “That’s hard to say. It depends on the market’s response.”

The girl declared with absolute certainty: “Once this movie hits theaters it’s guaranteed to go viral! The box office will be in the tens of billions! I cried so many times! So you guys have to release it quickly!”

Her older brother chimed in: “Director Shi’s movies always have guaranteed quality. I think Empress’s Imperial Hound won’t perform any worse than Republic Literary Masters Chronicles!”

Liu Yinxiu couldn’t help but ask: “You’re also an old… a longtime fan of Shi Jing?”

The brother nodded with enthusiasm: “You too?”

They were all young, all hardcore Shi Jing fans who had come specifically for the premiere, so the three quickly fell into easy conversation.

By the end, the brother said directly: “My name is Luo Bao, and this is my sister Luo Lan. What should we call you? Let’s add each other on WeChat.”

Liu Yinxiu: “…”

On StarBlog, he was a well-known internet personality—and more importantly, a former infamous black-fan of Old Shi’s Landscapes. He was afraid that if he revealed his name, these two fans might beat him to death.

He forced a laugh: “My surname is Liu. Just call me Brother Liu. My WeChat ID is…”

Luo Bao added him obediently.

And then froze.

“…Your name is Liu Yinxiu?”

Liu Yinxiu: the smile slowly fades.jpg

He suddenly remembered—his WeChat username was the same as his StarBlog account… his real name.

Well this was… awkward as hell.

Facing the siblings’ suspicious and wary stares, Liu Yinxiu wiped his face and said sincerely:  “I’ve already turned from black-fan to loyal fan. Please don’t discriminate against me QAQ.”

…

“The stele bears no inscription, yet history remembers the name. In the fifteenth year of the Empress, her merits and faults remain for future generations to judge…”

“Why was the legendary Empress Wu Zetian—long confined to folk tales—able to ascend as a woman to the throne? What kind of person was she? What kind of ruler? Director Shi Jing has presented the audience with a refreshing and illuminating answer…”

“‘Empress’s Imperial Hound’—a chronicle of Tang-era splendor. Even with just a glimpse, I find myself haunted, enthralled, yearning for more…”

“A dog’s-eye view of the empress’s daily life; power as intoxicating as fine wine—so utterly mesmerizing…”

Tian Hui’s eyes lingered on one glowing review after another, his expression growing darker and darker.

Not a single negative review. Not one critic cursing Empress’s Imperial Hound. Every review praised the film, dripping with such sugary flattery that it turned his stomach.

He couldn’t help but think maliciously—Shi Jing must have spent a fortune buying all these reviews, right?

Wu Zetian was nothing more than a fabricated figure from folk legends—cruel, wanton, rumored to have strangled her own child. A woman worse than an animal. But in order to chase attention, Shi Jing had cast aside all principles and bottom lines, even whitewashing her!

But in the end, strength speaks for itself.

His newly filmed movie Tulip Beauty was specifically crafted as a contender for the Ark Awards—an art film tailored to perfection. Both male and female leads were top stars with huge built-in traffic, and the theme—an interspecies tragic romance between a human and a Zerg—balanced commercial appeal and artistic depth, exactly the kind Ark judges liked.

He had worked hard to persuade his family and secure a thirty-million investment. But he had confidence that once the film premiered, he’d earn them much more in return.

He had even held a private test screening earlier. Everyone who watched Tulip Beauty had nothing but praise. Tian Hui was full of confidence in its prospects.

These critics and audience members were just narrow-minded country bumpkins who knew nothing. Once they saw his film, they would understand how brilliant his work was—and how trash Empress’s Imperial Hound truly was.

That movie was only dazzling for the moment. Once his film’s premiere took place in a week, the entire nation would be shaken by his masterpiece.

The higher they lifted Empress’s Imperial Hound now, the harder it would crash.

The more he imagined Shi Jing’s miserable, humiliating defeat, the wider Tian Hui’s smile grew.

Let’s see then—what will you have left to be proud of?

…
When Le Jing woke up, it was already close to noon.

Yesterday’s test screening had been very successful.

All the film critics he invited gave very positive reviews.

Now it all depended on the audience’s attitude.

There had been staff members posted outside the test screening hall to collect audience feedback, and by now the results had mostly been compiled and sent to him.

He opened his mailbox, and sure enough, saw a new email.

The audience feedback was extremely positive. The approval rate reached an astonishing 100%. Although once the film was officially released and more people watched it, the approval rate would naturally drop, receiving unanimous praise at the test screening was still strong proof of the film’s quality.

Since the audience response was great, the movie could secure a release date sooner. Le Jing hoped it could be released no later than the first day of the Lunar New Year—February 12—just in time to catch the peak Spring Festival box office period, and also to make it in time for the Ark Awards evaluation at the end of the month.

Le Jing opened his optical brain and searched online for feedback related to Empress and Her Imperial Dog.

After a full night plus the entire morning of fermentation, the internet was already filled with viewer reviews.

Many viewers even went directly to the film’s official account to gush passionately, eager to praise the director, actors, writer, cinematographer—basically the entire crew.

Those who attended the test screening weren’t only his and the actors’ fans; a portion of them were also ordinary viewers—teachers and students from top universities, people with excellent aesthetic literacy and cultural grounding. Their approval was undoubtedly the strongest endorsement of the film’s quality.

Someone named Huaxia Sheng wrote an article showering Empress and Her Imperial Dog with praise. Le Jing noticed that his Starblog verification labeled him as a history professor at Luodu University.

In his article, Professor Hua stated: “Director Shi Jing, while incorporating folk histories, maintains an objective and inclusive view of history, avoiding the trap of oversimplified good-versus-evil narratives. He fully unleashes his imagination to enrich the emotional depth of the greatest female emperor in history, revealing the charm beneath her cold, severe, and formidable exterior… At the same time, Director Shi Jing reasonably explores the gaps found in the historical record, which is of great significance for promoting a correct understanding of history…”

“…Many people hold contempt and prejudice against Wu Zetian because of rumors in unofficial histories—some even slut-shame her—but could someone who became the greatest female emperor in history really be such a deplorable person? Why do people praise a ruthless male emperor but scold a ruthless female emperor…”

“…Some even believe Wu Zetian never existed at all and was fabricated by later generations. Those who say such things are the real historical nihilists! Wu Zetian was a real historical figure! There are many relevant pieces of evidence, starting with the late-Ming literati’s recorded notes…”

Below Professor Hua’s Starblog were many supportive comments:

【WangWangWang: After watching Empress and Her Imperial Dog, I truly fell in love with Her Majesty! Zhang Yanfang played the Empress so well!】

【MieMieMie: I used to really dislike Wu Zetian because she was said to be lustful and cruel, and I’d heard she even strangled her own child. But after watching this movie, I found that I can’t dislike her anymore. I even think the unofficial histories must be fake! Before being an emperor, she was a flesh-and-blood human being!】

【As Expected of Him: Director Shi Jing is too good!! I want to praise him to the heavens! Very few people can make a historical film so fascinating and addictive.】

【Octopus: Professor Hua, I’d like to learn more about Wu Zetian’s life—could you recommend some historical books?】

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Le Jing’s mouth.

Seeing that so many people loved his film, and that it inspired more people to take the initiative to learn about history, he felt genuinely gratified.

Although many people still treated Wu Zetian as a fictional character and her deeds as the director’s “imaginative creation,” at least more and more people now knew about her—about her legendary life.

A person dies three times:

The first is when they stop breathing.
The second is when people attend their funeral.
The third is when the last person who remembers them forgets them.

That is when a person truly dies.

Now, seven thousand years after Earth’s destruction, Empress Wu Zetian had “lived” again. She would forever “live” in the hearts of those who watched the film.

While reviewing audience feedback, Le Jing also came across a lot of news about Tian Hui’s new film.

Tian Hui—the one who indirectly caused the original host’s death—was someone Le Jing hadn’t thought about in a long time.

He was busy, with many things to do; he only regretted not having enough time. Tian Hui was not worth wasting his precious minutes on.

Le Jing’s success was the greatest revenge against Tian Hui.

It was just that while Le Jing couldn’t be bothered keeping up with him, Tian Hui had now come knocking for attention.

Tian Hui’s new film The Tulip Beauty had cost tens of millions to produce. The leads were both top-tier stars, and its premiere would be held in the capital in a week, with dozens of media outlets attending.

The internet was already flooded with promotional posts, including many “professional” reviews praising Miss Tulip.

Le Jing stroked his chin. Tian Hui seemed quite confident in the film’s quality—he skipped test screenings entirely and went straight to the premiere. And he even chose Huaxia Grand Theater, the largest venue in the capital. Perhaps it really would be a strong competitor to Empress and Her Imperial Dog.

Choosing this timing meant that Tian Hui was also aiming for the Spring Festival slot—and possibly the Ark Awards.

Le Jing raised an eyebrow. Since the man had delivered his face right to the door for him to slap—should he slap it, or slap it, or slap it?

The original host’s grudge—it was time to repay it.

He was about to close his optical brain when suddenly a news popup appeared.

“Disputes erupt over rare metal mining rights; tensions rise between Bug Star and Free Star—feared to be the fuse of an interstellar war.”

Free Star was the region where the Earth Alliance’s Central American Federation was located.

Le Jing frowned deeply. He vaguely sensed an ominous wind approaching.

Would war… really break out?