Chapter 264: You Are My Man

Time moved into October; this year's National Day fell together with Mid-Autumn Festival — Mid-Autumn on the 30th, National Day on the 1st.

There was no military parade for National Day, only the tourism frenzy of the Golden Week holiday.

Filming of "Now You See Me" still hadn't stopped; Liu Tianxian was also persevering — in about ten days to half a month, they'd wrap.

Wrap day meant liberation for everyone; they could all rest for a few months. If she pushed back one day, the several hundred crew members would have to push back a day of work — she couldn't hold everyone up.

She was always thinking of others.

If she was in pain, Fang Hong would use an ice pack to soothe her — that could ease the pain. After applying it, he'd drape a blanket over her to cover the cervical spine area.

She couldn't be exposed to cold wind; a warm compress could relieve the aching and make her more comfortable.

Recently "The Bronze Bird Terrace" had been released, and on its opening day it only took 8.67 million yuan at the box office.

On the second and third days, it dropped to only around 5 million; during the National Day holiday it was slightly better, with a bit over 9 million.

Such box-office performance couldn't even compare to that equally bad "Tai Chi 1" — at least that one barely cracked 10 million during the holiday.

"The Bronze Bird Terrace" couldn't even break 10 million in a single day.

No need to mention the films of Fan Xiaopang and Guoji Zhang — each one flopped harder than the last.

Once a film is released, its content is essentially open to the public; good or bad, it's plain to see.

A bad film like "The Bronze Bird Terrace" naturally had audiences who couldn't hold back, cursing up a storm online to vent.

"If there were zero stars I would give zero stars. I came in hoping to kill time watching a lite version of Curse of the Golden Flower, and ended up getting blasted back home!"

"Who said it was good?!"

"What the hell kind of crap is this, so disappointed. Fa Ge actually acted in a stinker like this."

"Rotten beyond redemption. Da Baobei came to deadpan, and Yi Nengjing came to roll around in bed."

"This film must have been paid for by 'x'!"

"Anything from Enlight Pictures is guaranteed to be garbage!"

"Da Baobei's lines must have been written by Guo Xiaosi — so melodramatic it's deadly."

"No highlights at all, no idea what it's trying to say, boring, helpless — looks like Fa Ge is short on cash."

"Vague, ethereal artsy nonsense — makes no sense!"

"Good thing Tianxian didn't take a stinker like this, otherwise I wouldn't be able to look at her anymore."

"."

Netizens were roasting "The Bronze Bird Terrace" on a massive scale online, and even online media outlets were piling on.

"The Bronze Bird Terrace" proved with its performance what "box-office poison" really means.

"Douban score only 5.0, reputation in the gutter — even Fa Ge can't save this film!"

"The biggest stinker of all time! The Bronze Bird Terrace!"

"The Bronze Bird Terrace roasted by netizens: a pseudo-art film with no sense of pacing!"

Even the media couldn't keep hyping a film this bad — it's just too rotten; the whole internet is a chorus of curses.

A big fan called "Yi Yi Yi Ke" left a comment under Liu Tianxian's Weibo: "Good thing you didn't act in it!"

This big fan had high standing, and many fans were familiar with them, so bandwagon fans started copying the line.

"Good thing you didn't act in it!"

"Good thing you didn't act in it!"

"Good thing you didn't act in it!"

"."

In just a few hours, tens of thousands of "Good thing you didn't act in it!" piled up under Liu Tianxian's Weibo.

Fans also forwarded it to major QQ groups, forums, Tieba, Qzone — even many passers-by came to Liu Tianxian's Weibo by reputation and spammed it below.

"Good thing you didn't act in it!"

"."

As public opinion fermented, the phrase slowly morphed into "Liu Tianxian — good thing she didn't act in it!" flooding the entire internet, and it became a trending topic.

It was hanging right there on the Baidu Hot Search list — this was the earliest version of the trending search term!

Liu Tianxian hadn't done anything at all, yet caught a wave of fame — truly "fame" falling from the sky. She herself was completely at a loss.

This "fame" thing is hard to explain — some celebrities become famous out of nowhere, just like that.

Some celebrities try every trick in the book and still can't get famous!

"Liu Tianxian — good thing she didn't act in it!" was essentially a slap in the face to "The Bronze Bird Terrace." Some netizens called out for Fa Ge and the director to come explain:

"What the hell do you call substance? What the hell do you call culture? Explain it. Explain."

But the two of them played dead — Fa Ge had completed his mission and stayed silent to play the highbrow card; the director had shut himself in.

Probably they had only hyped it up before release to ride Liu Tianxian's popularity, bragging about how great the film was, how great the plot was, and that's why he took the role.

Once it was filmed and released, they didn't care anymore.

They must have known it was a stinker — otherwise they wouldn't have dumped it in the National Day slot, but would have saved it for the New Year Slot.

Even if they played dead, netizens and bloggers wouldn't let this film off the hook, still blasting Fa Ge: "A lump of the same old crap, hyping culture and substance at us. Good thing Tianxian didn't act in this garbage — she has taste, I'm on Tianxian's side this round."

This dragged the public-opinion attack onto Fa Ge — after all, he was the biggest star. In the previous life, after this film was released, the attacks had all concentrated on Liu Tianxian.

They attacked her character for acting in a bad film, called her box-office poison, her popularity was drained, her tier dropped — yet Fa Ge walked away as if nothing had happened.

This was also the beginning of Liu Tianxian's parting of ways with Enlight Pictures.

In this life, netizens and bloggers set the rhythm, making some passers-by feel goodwill toward Liu Tianxian, and likewise feel ill will toward Fa Ge.

Of course, Fa Ge had high standing, decades of accumulated prestige — this level of damage wasn't enough to faze him.

Now was the era when self-media was on the rise. A self-media blogger praised Liu Tianxian: "She has vision, wisdom, and the ability to endure."

This was referring to how earlier the director of "The Bronze Bird Terrace" had insinuated Liu Tianxian lacked substance, and Fa Ge had insinuated she lacked culture. Liu Tianxian didn't come out with a single word of rebuttal — she silently bore it all.

This let passers-by recognize the good side of her personality.

The contrast was the real damage; one could say Fang Hong salvaged a wave of reputation for her. If Liu Tianxian had really starred in this film, not only would Wangyi and bloggers have cursed her, every major outlet would have paid for publicity drafts to attack her—she'd be far too easy to stir up.

Take Da Baobei right now, for instance—she gets cursed in every way possible; even without anyone stirring things up, people still call her expressionless and tell her to quit acting in films with her trashy skills.

Under the current public opinion, no matter how much money is spent, you can't whip up a wave of public sentiment to smear Liu Tianxian—you can only suppress it.

"Smearing" is something you can only do by riding the tide; you can't go against it. Going against the current won't just fail to spark a hot topic—it'll cost you more money.

With this reversal of public opinion, Liu Tianxian was not only praised by Wangyi for the "wisdom" hidden beneath her beauty, many also said she had foresight and a sharp eye.

Media editors also wrote Wenzhang analyzing Liu Tianxian's acting career: "Liu Tianxian had previously starred in several bad films, her reputation was terrible, and her acting was criticized, so she was reflecting on herself—what kind of scripts to take, what kind of roles to play to win the audience's love.

Some say she always does big-female-lead popcorn flicks, no substance, no culture, but being able to carry a big-female-lead popcorn flick is also a kind of training for her acting. Right now her acting is in a honing phase.

At this stage, what she needs to do is make people like the dramas she acts in, like her characters, stabilize her base, and once her acting improves, then seek to break through and act in substantive art-house films.

Acting needs to be honed, needs life experience; very few actors can act well before thirty."

The logic of this Wenzhang was very clear—it laid out that the first thing Liu Tianxian needed to do in her acting career was to win the audience's affection, and only after enough honing should she consider depth.

Few actors have good acting before thirty; even a genius like Xing Ye was about twenty-eight when he shot "God of Gamblers" and established his style.

After that, it was always that same style.

Liu Tianxian isn't a born-genius actress either; she can only act more and practice more—as long as she acts a lot, there's always progress.

This Wenzhang can be considered a wave of whitewashing for Liu Tianxian against the mainstream view that she only shoots popcorn flicks, though such talk is what those literary youths and cultured types say.

Audiences don't care about any of that—how old is Liu Tianxian anyway, and you want her to do art-house? As long as the film is good to watch, that's enough.

In short, without the blow from "The Bronze Swallow Terrace," Liu Tianxian still stands unshaken in the entertainment circle, still the "immortal" in her fans' hearts.

Her base not only wasn't affected, it actually expanded, and her commercial value is also guaranteed.

At least compared to the same period in her previous life, she can earn even more money.

This recent storm was quite big; although Liu Tianxian had no film in theaters, Wangyi still pushed her into the spotlight.

Liu Tianxian naturally was paying attention too, scrolling on her phone, and when she saw online that she had "wisdom" and good judgment, she smiled knowingly.

She didn't care about the bragging, but in her heart she was relieved.

"Sigh, all the glory is yours, while I can only remain unknown." Fang Hong shook his head and sighed.

He had just finished pressing an ice pack on Liu Tianxian's cervical spine, and set the ice pack aside in a foam cooler.

"Hey, and there you go feeling wronged." Liu Tianxian draped a shawl over herself and swept her long hair back.

"Of course I'm wronged. Back then over this whole thing, I got scolded by you, and almost... never mind, the more I say the more tears come. That period was the saddest, most painful time of my life."

Fang Hong wiped his face, aggrieved beyond words.

"Alright, alright."

Liu Tianxian's maternal instincts overflowed; she hugged his head and let him lean on her shoulder: "There, there, I know."

During that period the two of them had almost broken up. She remembered Fang Hong telling her that during those days his pillow was soaked with tears.

Whether true or not, she felt for him.

Fang Hong breathed in the fragrance at her neck, and could see a mole on her neck—quite sexy.

He suddenly lifted his head.

"What's wrong?" Liu Tianxian asked, puzzled.

"Isn't this posture all wrong? It should be you leaning on my shoulder—now I don't even feel manly at all." Fang Hong said.

"What do I need manliness for? You're my man." Liu Tianxian was full of aggressive energy; she pulled his head over and insisted he lean on her shoulder.

"Aren't I your little baby?" Fang Hong said with a smile.

"Yes, you are."

Liu Tianxian's little milky voice was quite sweet; stroking his head, she said softly: "Back then, how were you so sure this film would be bad?"

"Very simple—from 'Red Cliff' to 'A Battle of Wits' to 'Legend of the Feast at Hong Gate,' have you ever seen a co-production film, as long as it had a Hong Kong team, that turned out good?" Fang Hong said.

"I have—'The Warlords!'" Liu Tianxian said.

"See, there you go, picking a fight." Fang Hong was speechless—she'd shut him right up.

Liu Tianxian let out a "heh" laugh. Co-produced historical blockbusters, looking at it now, had indeed all flopped—including 'The Warlords,' which flopped too and didn't get good box office.

"Let me tell you, any co-produced film is a bad film—don't gamble on that one-percent chance." Fang Hong said again.

"Hey, what do you think is the reason co-productions always turn out bad? I've actually read the scripts and they seemed pretty good, but what came out on screen was completely different from what I imagined." Liu Tianxian was curious.

Actors sometimes don't know what the film they're in is actually like—they just act in fragments, performing a bit here, a bit there, with no logic at all.

It's only in post-production editing that the pieces are put together into a story, into logic—but it might end up different from the script you read.

Take Mojing Wang, for example!

Fang Hong sat up and explained to her: "Because Hong Kong and Taiwan directors simply have no feelings for our history, they don't care at all about our loves and hates—they just want spectacle, they just want to grab eyeballs.

The high-IQ, the heartfelt, the patriotic content in the script gets cut wholesale, the plot logic falls apart completely, so the finished product you see is a total mess."

He went on: "Let me give you a very simple example—last year's TV drama 'Anti-Japan Kung Fu Heroes,' which completely turned history into entertainment, showing zero respect for historical facts or national sentiment."

Liu Tianxian knew that TV drama; the controversy at the time was huge, and mainstream media criticized it harshly.

Some even called for a ban on making TV dramas like that!

Filming it that way, in the eyes of those with strong patriotic feelings, was a defamation of the martyrs.

And that TV drama was directed by a Hong Kong director—no feeling for history whatsoever, no reverence at all.

"If even Hong Kong and Taiwan directors don't care about our feelings, you think foreign directors will care? They understand Chinese culture even less. So don't take any co-productions—they can't tell Chinese stories well." Fang Hong said a lot.

"Mm, I got it."

Liu Tianxian nodded, looking very obedient.

In the past, when Fang Hong told her not to take a role, she would argue back, would decide things for herself; now she trusted him.

She trusted that Fang Hong was truly considering her career, not trying to tie her down!

(End of this chapter)