[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo":3,"chapter-becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-944":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Becoming a Goddess in Tokyo",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2339928,4573,"Chapter 944: Crazy Racing (3)","becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-944",944,"\u003Cp>\"This year's Mid-Autumn Gala is actually interesting—internet celebrities are performing too.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wen Xia sat on the sofa eating walnut kernels, her tone impossible to tell whether teasing or mocking.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To rescue the gala’s viewership, which had briefly risen then plummeted, this year’s Mid-Autumn Gala invited not only many internet celebrities but also plenty of fresh-faced idols, all aiming to firmly capture the young audience.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Originally, people hoped the Mid-Autumn Gala wouldn’t be so strictly censored, that it wouldn’t lecture everyone during this time of reunion, and that the skits might be funnier.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the final result was still terrible—never mind the lip-syncing; the collaboration between internet celebrities and traffic stars was genuinely awful, with zero appeal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was clear they’d tried their hardest to bring joy, but their abilities were limited, and they simply couldn’t deliver.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The only real highlight of the entire gala was probably the medley of songs by singers from Hong Kong and the mainland.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The scene was lively, packed with nostalgia, but that was the only shining moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this point, viewers finally realized that these reunion galas had been on a steady decline all along—last year had just happened to be slightly better than usual, creating the illusion of improvement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now this was the true return to normal levels, so it looked utterly lackluster.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But everyone understood the principle; still, this lackluster Mid-Autumn Gala sparked online dissatisfaction.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fortunately, it was only the Mid-Autumn Gala, far less important than the Spring Festival Gala, and not many people watched it regularly, so the complaints weren’t particularly loud.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Moreover, since last year’s event was actually decent, people’s patience remained relatively high.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seizing this moment, everyone began fantasizing about the Spring Festival Gala:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The Mid-Autumn Gala sucked, fine—just don’t let the Spring Festival Gala suck.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I heard this year’s Spring Festival Gala invited many veteran artists—they’re planning something big.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I only know Wang Mian is on the Spring Festival Gala, and she’s teaming up with Da Zhangwei.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Who’s Wang Mian?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This year’s champion of the Stand-Up Comedy Contest, the man who fused music and humor—his stand-up is absolutely brilliant.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Teacher Da Zhangwei is also hilarious—these two together will definitely be more than the sum of their parts!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Then it looks like this year’s Spring Festival Gala might actually be worth watching.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The Spring Festival Gala is still too far off—by the way, any good movies coming out during National Day?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"My Father and My Hometown, The Eight Hundred, Four Seas, Crazy Racing.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The first one—just from the title, it sounds like a bunch of directors each shot a segment and they stitched it all together into a mess.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Exactly—last year they tasted success, so they’re doing it again this year.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Just from the title, you know it won’t be good.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Luo Quan’s film seems decent—worth looking forward to.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Aren’t they releasing Avatar 2? Will it be out during National Day?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What? It’s going head-to-head with Shanghai Fortress on New Year’s Day.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Hahaha, that’s definitely worth watching—I think just reading the reviews will already be thrilling.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"All the pressure is on Shanghai Fortress—if Lu Han’s film flops again, no studio will ever hire him again.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>………………\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Clearly, the lackluster Mid-Autumn Gala hadn’t affected anyone’s mood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because National Day was approaching, besides celebrating the Motherland’s birthday, most people would get a seven-day long holiday.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For modern office workers under increasing pressure, this was truly precious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These seven days were perfect whether spent resting at home with family or traveling and watching movies with a girlfriend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because the holiday was long, the National Day box office window was the second biggest after the Spring Festival, and competition was always fierce.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This year, My Father and My Hometown, The Eight Hundred, and Four Seas were all big-budget productions, with fresh idols, veteran actors, film kings, and top directors all present.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In comparison, Crazy Racing looked extremely shabby.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan, the director and lead actress, was the biggest star in the crew—she could easily command a hundred million yuan in salary if she took on another project.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But since she funded the film herself, all expenses were zero.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The second-biggest star was Wen Xia, who made a cameo as the sole female supporting role; because her screen time was minimal and due to well-known reasons, her salary was also low.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The rest were a group of supporting actors from all corners of the country.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These supporting actors each had distinctive looks and had appeared in many works; they were skilled performers with low fees—even after their actor ratings boosted their pay, each earned only about two million yuan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for everything else, it was all minor—this film had no big scenes, only a few seconds of special effects, and the production cost was extremely low.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After the film passed review, Luo Quan specifically posted its production cost on her social media: just over 180 million yuan, even lower than the cost of her previous film, Biohazard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When netizens first saw this headline, they didn’t believe it—they thought Luo Quan was lying.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the past five years, how many Chinese films had costs under 200 million yuan?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With this little money, you could barely afford to hire a fresh idol—even just one leg!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But after clicking into the post and seeing Luo Quan’s detailed production ledger, netizens finally understood: making a film really didn’t cost that much.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although everyone knew this was a low-budget film, even the smallest production wouldn’t be shoddy—because it was Luo Quan’s work.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The quality was guaranteed, and with such low costs, netizens couldn’t help but ask:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Where did all the money go in those multi-billion-yuan blockbusters?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan had actually answered this question during a live stream before, but because there were too many mistakes, that livestream’s recording was deleted entirely—now it was impossible to find online, so most netizens didn’t know what she’d said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After the livestream recording was deleted, Luo Quan didn’t bother to repost it—whether the film market was good or bad had nothing to do with her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She only needed to ensure her films were excellent enough; with China’s massive population, she’d be fed well enough.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for her peers, she could only wish them luck.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Crazy Racing passed review as smoothly as ever, effortlessly earning the dragon seal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although she hadn’t contributed anything during her expedition into the Flower and Fruit Mountain Realm, her dominant gold medal win at the Tokyo Olympics had earned her plenty of goodwill.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Too bad the Winter Olympics didn’t add an ice-fighting event—if it had, she could’ve won another gold.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As far as she knew, the only ice sport allowing direct fighting was ice hockey—team members could brawl on the rink anytime, and referees would just watch, waiting for the fighters to settle who won.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What a pity—she was excellent at fighting, but she’d never touched ice hockey.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Sis, how much box office do you think you’ll get this time?\" Leon asked his sister curiously.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hadn’t seen the final cut, but he’d been present throughout filming—just from watching the footage, he knew how many gags and twists the film hid.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As a comedy, it was truly exceptional, though whether it was the best in recent years would only be clear after release.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, Happy Potato had also produced many excellent comedies, including several considered masterpieces by audiences.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Compared to previous comedies, it was clear audience tastes were changing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whether Crazy Racing matched the audience’s current taste would depend on its opening day performance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Luo Quan replied to her brother’s question with a joking tone: \"I’d love to hit five billion, but it’s not the Spring Festival season—probably impossible. So I’ll lower my expectations—three billion will do.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Three billion isn’t low,\" Wen Xia said after checking Baidu: \"That’s a result good enough to rank among China’s all-time box office hits.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Quan waved her hand: \"Predicting now is useless—just wait quietly until the film releases.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She opened her phone and posted a cinema countdown.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After passing review, she could control the release date—she could launch nationwide the moment National Day arrived.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though a low-budget film, because it was self-written, self-directed, and self-starring by Luo Quan, that label was practically synonymous with box office success, so theater chains dared not slack off—the screening slots would definitely be plentiful.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When netizens finally saw the countdown, they went wild, rushing to pre-book tickets immediately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Undoubtedly, fans were incredibly supportive—driven by the power of the divine trailer, pre-sales soared straight to 200 million yuan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this rate, before the official release, box office might surge to a billion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This kind of treatment was reserved for only a handful of domestic films.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for the trailer, it wasn’t particularly well-made—it was just a montage of characters, with many shots of biking and driving, matching the film’s title.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But that wasn’t the point—the point was the BGM.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Careful netizens noticed it was a new composition by Luo Quan, titled \"In the Palace of the Mountain King.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The melody was bizarre and wild, insanely catchy, and in its climax, chaos spiraled into grandeur as the film’s characters flashed by like a revolving lantern, weaving together a ludicrous story.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the song’s end, the words \"Crazy Racing\" remained on screen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The music lingered, and the comments were flooded with \"Niu bi!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You call this a low-budget film?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Just this song is worth ten million! I’m saying it.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Haha, Luo Quan said she wrote this song in five minutes, free of charge.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Self-written, self-directed, self-starring, and self-composed—no wonder the cost was kept so low.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It’s normal—Luo Quan’s albums are all done by herself; she doesn’t let anyone else make money. If film production allowed it, she’d probably take over everything again.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"No wonder it’s Luo Quan—she turned a film under 200 million into something that feels like a Hollywood blockbuster.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Is this even a comedy? There aren’t many obviously funny scenes.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What can you tell from a two-minute video?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Just wait and see—I’ve already bought my ticket. Fifty yuan won’t hurt, won’t cheat you.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I saw Luo Quan’s tight racing suit in the trailer—her figure is still as top-notch as ever—no more words, pre-booking support.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"LSP.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Let me clarify—I’m not old!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>………………\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The trailer successfully fulfilled its mission, fully ramping up netizens’ anticipation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Many industry directors were watching this film closely, wanting to see how Luo Quan managed to make a film everyone praised with only 20 million yuan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With such a tiny investment, any other crew would’ve been labeled \"shoddy.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Luo Quan is famous for her ability to create miracles—could she create one this time?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one knew, but Luo Quan’s fans believed she would never let them down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…………\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>October 1st arrived—the first day of the National Day holiday.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a long absence, the extended holiday finally came; office workers were probably still sleeping in, trying to recover their battered bodies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Students, however, were even more energetic, already running through the streets with friends by nine o’clock.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, this applied only to students in high school or below.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In this era, college students had grown somewhat prematurely aged, usually still asleep at this hour.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even though it was the National Day holiday, many still chose to work for the high overtime pay.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If everyone took the day off, how would those enjoying the holiday have anyone to go out and play with?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was an unsolvable contradiction.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the cinema, visitors came in an unceasing stream.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>People say the Chinese-language film market is falsely prosperous, but looking at the scene before them, where was the slightest hint of falseness? This was real foot traffic—Cong Kai had no idea how many tickets he’d sold since opening.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this point, it was still unclear which film was the biggest hit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The major films promoted for the National Day slot all drew audiences; Eight Hundred, due to its large cast of stars and excellent promotion, attracted slightly more viewers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Crazy Race and Four Seas were no less competitive, each with their own advantages.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the first wave of viewers flooded into the theaters, the true nature of these films finally revealed itself to everyone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To cut costs, Luo Quan didn’t even hold a premiere; many film journalists had only now seen the finished product.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhao Yang was one of them—he’d even prepared his questions—but Luo Quan didn’t hold a premiere, which he thought was ridiculously barebones.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But once he sat down in his cinema seat, all his thoughts focused on the large screen before him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The dragon logo and signature BGM appeared at the opening, followed by the list of investors and main creators.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Crazy Race was unlike any other: the production company was solely Quan Shui Entertainment, and half the creative credits belonged to Luo Quan—it looked as if she had made the film alone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since there were too few entities to thank, the opening credits were much shorter than those of other films—a very pleasant touch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon, our protagonist Geng Jiao pulled back the curtain on this performance.\u003C\u002Fp>",2165,"2026-06-20T22:54:06.151Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","7b1b9320d6be82f94d37d564cf59e5f35549aeea3f548c9ab5590d935ddf10b6","becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-945","becoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-chapter-943",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fbecoming-a-goddess-in-tokyo-cover.jpg"]