Chapter 377

Late November, the New Year film season officially kicked off, with "Mulan" leading the release.

Xiao Yanzi is dubbed a box-office poison, yet studios keep casting her because she genuinely has a fanbase—though its strength is debatable, it’s still formidable among female stars.

As always, female stars don’t carry box office.

Even the current powerhouse duo of Bing and Bing couldn’t have hit two consecutive blockbusters solely on their own—it took marketing, production teams, and film quality working together.

Now that Bing and Bing have split and each is carrying films alone, they might be slightly stronger than other female stars, but a massive breakout is still unlikely.

Take, for example, Zhang Ziyi’s solo lead in "Perfect Couple" during this summer’s season—its final box office was barely near a hundred million.

Even that result was boosted by the publicized feud between Zhang Ziyi and Li Xiaoran, which generated significant exposure.

As one of the Four Dan and Two Bing, Xiao Yanzi enjoys extremely high popularity and national recognition.

Even if her fanbase capable of driving box office is limited, it’s still better than stars with no fans at all—and she brings media exposure and attracts casual viewers.

As for the male lead, Chen Kun, though his career has hit a bottleneck and he’s overshadowed by the Four Top Male Leads, he’s still been steadily active in the film industry over the past two years.

He has the acclaimed "A World Without Thieves" as his signature work, and played a substantial role as Prince Jiang in the anniversary film "The Founding of a Republic."

In fact, in terms of film, none of the Four Top Male Leads—except Liu Huohua—have truly overshadowed him; some are even inferior to Chen Kun.

Though he’s not among the Four Top Male Leads and lacks their resources and backing, this very absence gives him greater flexibility—he can collaborate with anyone.

Take, for instance, this time’s "Mulan" launched by Star International.

Deng and Huang had their own resources and no time; Liu Huohua was unsuitable; Tong Dawei was dismissed as lacking film appeal—finally, Chen Kun, leveraging his school friendship with Xiao Yanzi, defeated two Hong Kong-Taiwanese young leads and snagged the role.

One of the key promotional angles for "Mulan" was heavily emphasizing their school friendship, even hinting they had once dated and so on.

This marketing campaign proved effective; combined with "Mulan" being a well-known IP and releasing at the start of the New Year season, the film’s opening box office was decent.

But soon, the box office began to plummet rapidly.

The most critical reason was quality: the director of "Mulan," Ma Chucheng, entered the industry early and is known for "Tokyo Raiders," "Hong Kong Raiders," and "Starry Starry Night"—he specializes in romance.

Yes, another Hong Kong director.

Though somewhat absolute, after films like "The Promise," "Red Cliff," and "Mo Gong," the industry has developed a consensus: most Hong Kong directors can’t handle historical epics.

A Hong Kong director skilled in romance and urban stories tackling a historical epic? Expectations can be lowered considerably.

It’s still the same "Young and Dangerous" formula—several nations acting like rival gangs fighting.

Mulan is a quiet version of Thirteen Sisters; in the end, she assassinates the enemy leader, sacrifices her lover, and arranges a marriage alliance with the enemy princess, bringing peace to the realm.

A film centered on a female warrior dedicates most of its runtime to romance, with its highlights being tragic love and tear-jerking moments.

More radical audiences outright called it trash; even those using milder language delivered an equally deadly verdict: mediocre.

If a film is labeled “mediocre,” it’s hardly different from trash—especially in a fiercely competitive season.

Even trash films can be remembered, generate buzz and discussion, and attract curious viewers wanting to see just how bad they are—but mediocrity means no one cares at all, a pure disposable casualty, destined to flop.

Another deadly factor: this year’s New Year season saw outstanding performances from Hollywood films.

In past New Year seasons, there’d be one or two Hollywood releases, with mixed results—but this year, they clearly hit the jackpot.

Especially "2012," which released almost simultaneously with "Mulan," broke 100 million in three days, 200 million in six, and raced toward 300 million at an astonishing pace.

Not only did "Mulan" go into shock, but every other big New Year release queued behind it wanted to curse.

The pie is this small, competition is already brutal, everyone barely has enough to eat—and now a foreign dragon has jumped in.

With "2012"’s momentum, it might even challenge "The Founding of a Republic" for this year’s box office crown—who could take that?

The most furious among them was Boss Zhang of New Picture.

The reason is simple: "Three Musketeers" premiered in early December and had to directly compete with "2012."

"October Siege," however, fared better—it released in mid-December, with a two-week gap, leaving "2012" with virtually no box office threat.

This made Boss Zhang, who had previously clashed with Yi’an, extremely irritable.

Especially when struggling to secure screening slots, he finally snapped, openly accusing Yan Li and China Film Group of colluding to monopolize, and launched a furious tirade against Yan Li and Han Sanye.

“Yi’an controls his own theater chain and Weibo—every film seeking screening slots and promotion must pay tribute and advertising fees to Yan Li. What’s the difference between him and a mob boss?”

“He publicly declared on Weibo he wanted to poach Yimou—would any businessman act like this? Oh, because he has money, he thinks he can do whatever he wants.”

“Many say I’m afraid of him. I’m not afraid—I just held back to avoid harming my film’s prospects. But now I can’t take it anymore.”

“I’d like to ask China Film Group: 'October Siege' involved China Film Group, so you gave it favorable slots; but when we partnered with Huaxia, you gave us no consideration—and you even let two imported films fight it out.”

“At the Huabiao Awards, everyone greeted him as ‘Third Boss’—what third boss? I thought Shan Chao had shown up.”

“One Shan Chao, one Nan Batian—they’re in cahoots. Anyone not on their side gets crushed. The current filth in the film industry stems directly from them.”

“They’re the abscess of the film industry—everyone is angry but dares not speak out. I’m willing to pop it.”

“...”

This news article was originally an interview by print media, then went viral on the three major portals, and only afterward spread across Weibo, known for its rapid information flow.

In Luozhou, Yimou, leading a promotional tour, angrily knocked on Boss Zhang’s hotel room door.

“Are you fucking crazy?!”

The feud with Yan Li was already headache enough—now Boss Zhang had turned his fire on China Film Group.

He’d offended both major power blocs in mainland cinema: the state and the private sector.

“What’s there to fear? Can they eat me?”

Boss Zhang was dismissive—Yan Li’s tactics were nothing new; even if things blew up, his Weibo might be powerful, but it’s not a dictatorship.

As for Han Sanye, he truly wasn’t afraid—systems are powerful, but they’re also constrained; if Han dared retaliate, he’d confirm himself as Shan Chao—let’s see how he’d handle that.

Yimou stared at Boss Zhang in shock—he couldn’t understand whether he’d lost his mind or become delusional.

Yes, even if things blew up now and Han and Yan, wary of backlash, couldn’t retaliate violently, once the storm passed, they’d find a way to crush him.

One is the leader of a private company, controlling the hottest online platform; the other is the official heavyweight of cinema, with endless resources—making things difficult for you is effortless, leaving you unable to even complain.

And now that Boss Zhang has publicly attacked Han and Yan, who will dare to collaborate with him? He’s cutting off his own escape routes.

More crucially—it’s completely unnecessary!

Yimou truly couldn’t fathom it: it was just a scheduling conflict—why tear everything apart?

Yan Li, fine—he’d had past grievances, understandable resentment—but Han Sanye had done nothing to him.

Yimou didn’t understand, and neither did Han Sanye and Yan Li.

Why the hell is he so arrogant?!

Really, Yan Li’s net worth is billions, his empire extends beyond entertainment—he still wouldn’t dare speak so openly against Han Sanye.

Likewise, Han Sanye, commanding respect in the industry, could shake the ground with a single step—even if he disliked Yan Li, he’d never publicly launch a direct attack.

Could this be a publicity stunt? Boss Zhang has pulled similar stunts before.

But even so, why go this far?

Yan Li, at least, is a private company—some negative impact, but nothing fatal.

In fact, they’d already exchanged insults before—Yan Li mocked him for being stingy, fake in loyalty, and bullying Yimou—these could all be dismissed as industry banter.

But calling Han Sanye “Shan Chao” and “Nan Batian”? That’s devastating—pure heart-destroying rhetoric, potentially ruining his future—it’s real, lasting enmity.

But as always, systems have their weaknesses—now that things are so public and widely watched, Han Sanye won’t dare retaliate or even respond, lest he sink deeper.

In fact, Han Sanye not only refrained from retaliation—he urged Yan Li to stay low-key.

“Yan, for my sake, let’s hold back for now—I’ll give you an explanation later.”

Boss Zhang’s words were excessive, but not entirely baseless.

Han Sanye didn’t reach his position by being weak—he’s just lying low now; once the storm passes, he’ll show Boss Zhang what a real Shan Chao looks like.

“Third Boss, you’re magnanimous, but I’m not the type to swallow humiliation. I don’t provoke, but I won’t be pushed around. Everyone’s watching—if I back down now, how will I survive?”

“Don’t worry—I’ll keep the spotlight on me. You slip away quietly. A guy selling bento boxes doesn’t need a beating to learn his place.”

Yan Li’s earlier threats to poach from New Picture were just empty provocations—purely to annoy, never meant to act.

This time, Boss Zhang came at him head-on—Yan Li realized he’d been too lenient.

Han Sanye tried to persuade him a few more times, but failed; moreover, he himself was seething with anger—finally, he gritted his teeth.

“Fine. You’re not the only one getting flak—this won’t be your burden alone.”

“I can’t show my face publicly—you take the front. Whatever you need from me, I’ll assist. Consider it a debt I owe you.”

This meant letting Yan Li take the lead while Han hid in the shadows—Yan Li got the glory, and all future risks and backlash fell solely on Yan Li.

“Agreed. Then I won’t be polite.”

After consulting with Han Sanye, Yan Li’s first move was to officially advance the release date of "October Siege" to directly confront "Three Musketeers."

To crush Boss Zhang, Yan Li’s most direct method would be digging up dirt—but that tactic is low and its effectiveness uncertain, given that Boss Zhang is already infamous.