CDJMM – Volume 4 -Chapter 43 Filming in the Interstellar Era (43)

“Eight wins out of ten nominations — Tulip Beauty becomes the biggest winner…”

“Box office doesn’t equal awards? The Empress’s Imperial Dog takes first place at the Spring Festival box office but fails to win a single Ark Award…”

“Tulip Beauty dominates the Ark Awards — did you actually understand this movie…”

“The Empress’s Imperial Dog suffers a crushing defeat, and director Shi Jing actually said this in public…”

Bai Moxuan snorted and shut off his computer. All these people were just bandwagon chasers talking hindsight. Ever since The Empress’s Imperial Dog walked away empty-handed last week, the internet had been flooded with these kinds of articles and reviews.

So what if it didn’t win anything? In terms of box office alone, The Empress’s Imperial Dog completely crushed Tulip Beauty.

Up to this point, The Empress’s Imperial Dog had already surpassed 50 billion in total box office, and breaking 100 billion was only a matter of time. And Tulip Beauty? It had only made twenty to thirty billion — the typical box office of an average romance film, with absolutely no signs of explosive potential.

To be honest, even Bai Moxuan was a bit surprised it received nothing.

From his discerning perspective, The Empress’s Imperial Dog was a film with real depth.

Although it was based on ancient Earth culture, its core was modern. Empress Wu Zetian’s resistance against a patriarchal society was tragic yet glorious — her spirit would remain immortal through the ages.

The Empress’s Imperial Dog received seven Ark Award nominations, only three fewer than Tulip Beauty. But the categories it lacked were all technical awards with little weight.

This year was considered a “light year” for the Ark Awards. Aside from Tulip Beauty, the other competing films were mediocre at best. And Tulip Beauty, in his view, was extremely politically incorrect — there was no way it should have won.

So in his eyes, The Empress’s Imperial Dog winning the major Ark Awards was practically guaranteed. If nothing else, Best Actress, Best Director, and Best Picture were supposed to be in its pocket.

But unexpectedly, the least likely film — Tulip Beauty — won.

The result set off alarm bells in Bai Moxuan’s mind.

As the highest film award on all of Earth, the Ark Awards carried strong political significance. Winning an Ark Award meant that, even if the film itself wasn’t particularly outstanding, at the very least it aligned with political correctness.

Now, in Bai Moxuan’s eyes, the “politically incorrect” Tulip Beauty had won the politically symbolic Ark Award. Who would believe there wasn’t something fishy behind this?

Bai Moxuan frowned. His sharp business intuition picked up faint signs of something wrong — as if some hidden danger was stirring beneath the deep waters.

As the head of a conglomerate, preparing for the worst had long become instinct.

But this time, he instinctively didn’t want to consider the worst possibility.

He sat in silence for a long time before telling the AI butler, “Have Director Liu from the marketing department come see me.”

“Understood, Master.”

A moment later, the smart butler’s voice sounded again: “Master, Director Liu Hui is outside.”

Bai Moxuan snapped out of his thoughts, his expression returning to normal. “Let her in.”

“President Bai, you wanted to see me?”

Bai Moxuan nodded and asked in a low voice, “What’s the overall online sentiment toward The Empress’s Imperial Dog?”

Liu Hui answered, “There are a few harsh comments, but overall the tone is sympathetic. Supportive voices are dominating.”

Bai Moxuan was a little surprised. “I thought that after Tulip Beauty won, The Empress’s Imperial Dog would be in a disadvantageous public-opinion environment.”

Liu Hui smiled. “In the end, it still comes down to the work itself. Viewers voted with their feet — The Empress’s Imperial Dog made twice the box office of Tulip Beauty. So now that it unexpectedly won nothing, of course many fans are outraged online.”

Bai Moxuan felt slightly reassured.

Votes can be manipulated — but people’s hearts cannot.

He continued, “Do you already have a direction for the next phase of marketing?”

Liu Hui confidently smiled and launched into her plan.

Simply put, they would elevate The Empress’s Imperial Dog by discrediting Tulip Beauty — the usual strategy of stepping on one to boost the other. Then, by using the film’s total loss at the awards as a topic of discussion, they would emphasize its tragic narrative, thereby casting doubt on the Ark Awards’ judging criteria and professionalism.

Finally, Liu Hui said, “The audience isn’t stupid. Anyone can tell something’s off about The Empress’s Imperial Dog coming away with nothing. People online are already calling it rigged. Who knows — this might trigger a second explosion in the box office.”

Bai Moxuan pondered for a few seconds and nodded. “It’s workable.” He paused, thinking, then added, “About the Ark Award scandal publicity…” He stopped again.

Liu Hui looked puzzled but waited patiently.

Bai Moxuan waved his hand. “Forget it. Go ahead with your plan.”

After she left, Bai Moxuan fell back into thought.

What he originally wanted to say was that the posts about the Ark Awards being rigged shouldn’t go too far. Ideally, the criticism should aim solely at Tulip Beauty’s film content, skimming lightly over the supposed behind-the-scenes manipulation — to avoid burning themselves.

But in the end, he didn’t say it.

He decided to use this opportunity to test the waters.

Would it draw out the person behind the scenes?

…

Luo Bao was shocked.

He had assumed that since The Empress’s Imperial Dog didn’t win, social media would be full of mockery.

And at first, there were some mocking comments — but the tone quickly changed.

It began when a major influencer with over ten million followers on FastSound posted a video condemning the Ark Awards, questioning their fairness.

This influencer was a popular FastSound creator. The video was short, only four or five minutes, but it racked up millions of likes, hundreds of thousands of shares, and over a hundred thousand comments.

The short video shot to the top of the site’s trending chart and was reposted across major platforms, spreading wildly online.

The creator, “Little Neng Jun,” was known for roasting current events and posting comedic commentary. Today, his target was the Ark Awards.

“Hey everyone, I’m Little Neng Jun. Today’s topic is — The Collapse of the Ark Awards and the Rise of Mongrels.

The viewers in front of their screens, are you still worshipping and praising the Ark Awards? Still treating the Ark Awards as humanity’s highest honor in film? Then let me tell you now—you’ve all been deceived. The Ark Awards are finished!

Recently, Empress’s Imperial Dog, which has been soaring at the box office, came away empty-handed throughout awards season, while the highly politically incorrect Tulip Beauty received ten nominations and won eight, becoming the sole winner of this year’s Ark Awards. Such blatantly brazen back-door manipulation is truly jaw-dropping, and it tears off the final fig leaf the Ark Awards had left.

…

Tulip Beauty itself isn’t the scary part. What’s terrifying is the public’s tacit acceptance of the extreme ideology it spreads. What’s terrifying is the public’s numb indifference to ideological violation!

If a movie that speaks for the Zerg and whitewashes the Zerg can be accepted by mainstream public opinion—can even be recognized by the Ark Awards—then I can say with absolute certainty here: humanity is done for! We’re headed for extinction! Do you know what’ll be left alive? Mongrels! Offspring born after humanity is culturally violated and overwritten by the Zerg!”

………

The video was posted by a famous internet influencer, and the content was explosive. The uploader’s language was fierce and extreme. As soon as the video was released, it naturally sparked massive discussion.

Little Neng-jun was only the beginning. Soon after, prominent figures from all fields in Huaguo stepped in to voice their support for Empress’s Imperial Dog in various ways.

Starblog history-circle influencer Zhong Liangning: “History is the root of humanity. Forgetting history is the same as betraying your ancestors!”

Starblog finance-circle major voice: “Analyzing ‘voting with your feet’ through Empress’s Imperial Dog…”

Bai Moxuan, head of Bai Energy: “At the very least, Empress’s Imperial Dog deserves fairness.”

CCTV Documentary Channel planner Song Minghan: “The flames of war have already been lit. In this cultural battlefield, we cannot retreat even one step!”

Qi Jiang Video Network Chairman Xu Donghan: “Every ticket you buy, every cent you spend, every click, every comment—they’re all votes. The results of these votes determine the world your children will live in.”

Huaguo Film Association President Cao Desheng: “From its birth, cinema has always been a political art. It naturally carries a degree of propaganda and ideological influence. Now our enemy is sharpening its blades, yet our people still lack the necessary vigilance and defense.”

Ark Award Best Director An Yun: “The Ark Awards are no longer the Ark Awards we once knew. They’ve lost their original intention and become the mouthpiece of certain forces.”

………

In the past, there would certainly have been opposing voices online. But strangely, this time the internet was almost unanimously one-sided. The few supportive voices for Tulip Beauty flickered like candles in the wind—wavering briefly before being extinguished completely.

Netizens expressed strong support for Shi Jing, and many questioned the corruption behind this year’s Ark Award selections.

On forums, countless posts appeared calling for people to book entire theater screenings to physically support Empress’s Imperial Dog. Some rich fans even spent a fortune to reserve whole showings and invite others to watch for free.

“No Ark Award? Who cares. We’ll vote with our feet and send Empress’s Imperial Dog into the Top Ten of film history’s box office!”

“If the Ark Awards won’t be fair, then we’ll give Empress’s Imperial Dog a fair evaluation!”

“Given time, future generations will forget Tulip Beauty—the film that won awards this year—but they will NEVER forget the film that should have won but didn’t: Empress’s Imperial Dog!”

“If you don’t want theaters in the future flooded with movies like Tulip Beauty, then contribute to Empress’s Imperial Dog’s box office!”

“To hell with the Ark Awards! I’m only watching Empress’s Imperial Dog. Only brainless kiddies like Tulip Beauty!”

Luo Bao felt warmth spread through his heart—truly, the eyes of the people are bright.

He immediately rallied the thousand-member fan groups under him, calling on local fans to organize theater bookings to support Empress’s Imperial Dog. The response was overwhelming. Several large-scale offline fan theater events quickly formed.

Yet while moved by fans’ passion, Luo Bao also found the one-sidedness online strange.

He remembered that Tulip Beauty had plenty of fans too—so why weren’t they fighting back this time?

The answer was something only Le Jing could provide.

The reason Tulip Beauty’s fans were nowhere to be seen was simple, just four words: Your accounts are gone.

Those voices supporting Tulip Beauty—whether real fans or fake—were all banned by the system.

Of course, this wasn’t Le Jing’s doing. He didn’t have that kind of power.

Only one entity could achieve this: the nation itself.

It was the government stepping in—guiding and controlling public opinion.

Empress’s Imperial Dog was only the trigger. What the nation truly wanted was to seize ideological high ground and conduct counter-indoctrination against the Zerg’s cultural invasion.

Le Jing hadn’t expected that by filming a few movies, he’d end up effectively “recruited” by the state.

He owed this not only to Mr. Cao Desheng’s strong recommendation, but also to the Zerg’s aggressive and ruthless tactics.

Now, Le Jing was inside a secure safehouse prepared for him by the government. Leaning back in his chair, he recalled what happened a few days earlier, and couldn’t help but be grateful for his sharp sixth sense.

Being completely snubbed at the Ark Awards had made him a bit disappointed, but not enough to break him.

If anything, it had ignited his competitive spirit. If the Ark Awards refused to acknowledge him, then he would earn the recognition of the people instead.

He was only twenty-five. His career had just begun. He still had plenty of time to create better and greater works. Awards were not the only measure—public love and audience support were the only true standard.

So he quickly put aside the Ark Awards loss and began arranging his move.

The place Sister Zhang had found for him was in a high-end community with excellent security, perfect for his privacy needs.

Before the Ark Award ceremony, he had already moved in, but some belongings remained at his old rental. He hired a moving company to transport his things.

The moving robot piloted the aircraft and arrived on schedule. Normally, Le Jing should have boarded the aircraft to go to his new home.

But the moment he was about to step inside, he suddenly felt a wave of anxiety. Faced with the robot’s cold, emotionless eyes, a chill crawled down his spine.

He chose to trust his instinct.

At the last second, he dashed off the aircraft and bolted forward.

Then—

A deafening “BOOM” erupted behind him. The aircraft spewed black smoke, and the violent shockwave blasted Le Jing forward several meters before he crashed heavily onto the ground.

Dizzy and disoriented, he rolled over, propped himself up, and after several seconds his blurred vision finally focused.

The aircraft had exploded like a firecracker—shattered into countless pieces, now burning fiercely.

Fragments of metal and components were scattered everywhere. Only then did he feel the burning pain on his back.

He reached behind him—his hand came away bloody.

Then he lost consciousness completely.

When he woke again, he was in a hospital. His injuries were fully healed. He learned what happened from a nurse.

It turned out the moving robot had been infected by a malicious virus, which activated its self-destruction protocol, causing the explosion. Le Jing had survived by pure luck.

He hadn’t been in bed long when a few people claiming to be from national security arrived. They informed him he had been selected for the country’s Special Talent Protection Program and would now receive full protection.

From them, Le Jing finally learned the truth.

—It had been a Zerg assassination attempt.

When he heard the reason, he even felt an absurd urge to laugh. He really was fated with assassination attempts, wasn’t he?

What could be said? That he possessed a unique talent for dodging death?

At the time, the security personnel said:

“Mr. Shi, to avoid further retaliatory strikes from the Zerg, please come with us to a secure location.”

Le Jing sat up, eyes calm yet burning with unyielding resolve.

“I am a director. My work is making films. If I let so-called safety force me into hiding for the rest of my life, then this life of mine isn’t worth cherishing.”

The agent smiled. “Of course you can continue making films. In fact, the reason the state is protecting you is precisely so you can keep making films.”

“As long as you stand with us—whatever film you want to make, the nation will support you.”

Le Jing fell silent for a moment, a strange light flickering in his eyes.

“…My next film, I want to make a story about a nation that perished through peaceful evolution.”

The agent’s eyes lit with interest. A peculiar smile curved his lips.

“That sounds like a very interesting story. Perhaps you should discuss it with our commander.”