When filming Shiyi Lang, two different child actors played the role of Shi Yilang at different ages, both selected by director Wang Anyi for their resemblance to Chu Zhi. Both boys performed remarkably well.
The young actor Yuan Lian, who portrayed the teenage Shi Yilang, especially stood out. When Chu Zhi saw Yuan Lian on set, he felt an odd sense of familiarity and even half-jokingly recognized the boy as his little brother.
Although Chu Zhi was not yet twenty-five, the whole crew sighed with envy at Yuan Lian's luck. With such a famous "older brother," if Yuan Lian ever wanted to step into the entertainment industry, wouldn't the road be wide open for him?
Back in the theater, Xiao Hu and his girlfriend Meng Yu sat in the golden seats of the fifth row. Normally, Wang Anyi's films only displayed the tag [A Wang Anyi Film], but this time the credits also bore [Starring: Chu Zhi]. That alone showed the producer's view of Chu Zhi's importance.
The film opened with the cutting away of six fingers in childhood, a scene that unleashed the flood of tragedy like waters breaking through a dam.
As a child, Shi Yilang was abandoned by his prostitute mother and left in an opera troupe. As a youth, just when his skills had begun to take shape, he was violated by a eunuch. As a man in his prime, just as he tasted success, his country was struck by upheaval. In old age, he ended his life by suicide in a sports arena.
Shiyi Lang was more than a story. It was the shadow of an entire era. Even if one could not grasp the artistic subtlety, one could not miss its profound sorrow.
Meng Yu had braced herself for tragedy, but she hadn't expected this.
It wasn't like a gleaming blade swinging down. It was like a fine needle pricking at the heart—barely painful at first, but the moment you drew breath, the ache spread sharp and deep.
Nearly three hours later, the couple exited the cinema. "Uuuu…" Meng Yu sobbed softly. She had carefully applied her makeup before the movie, so she tried not to cry aloud, afraid of smudging her eyeliner.
"Don't cry, don't cry. Tonight, supper's on me," Xiao Hu quickly coaxed.
In the past, no matter how upset she was, supper usually restored her mood. But this time it didn't work.
Meng Yu remained devastated, mourning Shi Yilang's fate. Then her thoughts turned to Chu Zhi, her idol, and she imagined his life might be just as tragic. In her heart, the roles of Shi Yilang and Chu Zhi overlapped, and the more she thought about it, the more her sorrow deepened.
"Why was it Yu Ji who committed suicide in the end? Wasn't it supposed to be the Overlord at the Wu River?" she asked through her tears. "I want to ask the screenwriter what state of mind they were in when they wrote this script."
"Real Yu Ji, false Overlord," Xiao Hu analyzed. "In history, Yu Ji followed the Overlord into death. When the shadow of a once-mighty hero like Ma Dalang faded away, Yu Ji's fate was already sealed. Shi Yilang is the true Yu Ji, so this ending may have been the best for him."
Xiao Hu himself had been weighed down by the movie's despair, but seeing his girlfriend's grief forced him out of it, shifting his focus to comforting her.
It was like watching a horror film: even if the man was afraid, the woman's greater fear somehow eased his own.
"True or false, it doesn't matter. Shi Yilang's life was unbearable. And that ungrateful wolf he raised—ugh, I'm so mad." Meng Yu sniffled. "The ending was nothing but a stab to the heart."
"How can you call it forced? In Beijing opera, Shi Yilang gave his life to his art. He deserved to die!" Xiao Hu retorted.
The moment those words left his mouth, Meng Yu's sorrow was instantly replaced by fury. "What do you mean, he deserved it?!"
And so, the couple launched into a heated quarrel.
Meng Yu's reaction was not unusual. Many of Chu Zhi's fans, the "Little Fruits," entered the cinema cheerful and bouncing with anticipation, only to leave in tears.
What does "no gain without sacrifice" mean? The audience sacrificed their joy and, in return, received heartbreak.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
On the movie platforms, reviews poured in:
Shen Duo, Level 3: [10/10] "A single smile spans the ages, a single tear carries endless sorrow. Xiao Jiu was so beautiful, so heartbreaking."
Unimportant Key Witness, Level 2: [10/10] "The movie ambushed me. I wasn't prepared at all. I came here happily to swoon over faces, but the story… the story crushed me."
Feng Ying Yan Yue, Level 6: [10/10] "Even though I'm a Little Fruit, I'll be fair. Damn it, this film is too incredible. Not just the best of the year—maybe one of the best of the past decade!"
Zhifu Island, Level 1: [10/10] "Shi Yilang was unmatched. Jiu-yé acted too well. I've watched Jiu-yé's MVs countless times, but this movie… I don't dare watch it a second time."
Even though countless Little Fruits half-jokingly threatened to mail knives to the screenwriter, they still gave the film full marks, tears and all. Fans always had their filter. But when non-fans—ordinary viewers—also gave tens, it proved the movie's quality was truly strong.
On platforms like Maoyan and Taopiaopiao, the scores reached 9.9. High praise was spreading quickly. Many viewers, unwilling to suffer alone, recommended the film to their friends, "dragging them down" into the same heartbreak.
Every world has these types of people. On Earth, novels like Yang Jian – Life is Sorrow Like the Flowing River and films like To Live were called healing works, yet they left audiences devastated.
In short, the film's word of mouth was excellent, and its influence was still growing.
Wang Anyi's films always made money and won awards. Not blockbuster-level profits, but solid returns.
Her highest-grossing work was a Hollywood blockbuster she was invited to co-direct, which grossed 370 million dollars worldwide. Yet she clashed fiercely with producers during filming and eventually lost final editing rights. That bitter experience made her swear never to work with Hollywood again.
Her average films in China earned around 600 million RMB. But Shiyi Lang was different. One could sum it up in one line: never underestimate the buying power of face fans.
Chu Zhi's beauty had too many admirers. And with posters and trailers teasing glimpses of him in opera makeup, twisting his waist with elegance, fans had waited with burning anticipation.
There were no midnight previews. The film debuted directly across Asia, with Europe claiming a "simultaneous" release but actually one day later. Tickets in China, Japan, and Korea sold out instantly.
Technically, only the first two rows and the very last row still had seats left. In China, Wang Anyi's films commanded 27% of screenings. In Japan and Korea, over 20%.
The box office was dazzling.
The theme song, When Love Becomes History, unsurprisingly shot straight to number one across all major music platforms.
"Chu Zhi is my God of Wealth!" Producer Wang's eyes gleamed an unnatural shade of green.
Question for the exam: What does the green glow in Producer Wang's eyes symbolize?
By October 3rd, the three-day worldwide box office tally was released. The delay was due to Europe's time difference.
The CEO of Photon Pictures examined the report carefully and sighed. "Why is Chu Zhi a singer? As an actor, he'd reach global superstardom more easily."
But since Chu Zhi wasn't one of their artists, he could only regret. Still, if Chu Zhi had been signed under him, the sheer speed of making money would have made him laugh himself awake in dreams.
Shaking off his envy, the CEO immediately pushed promotions to the maximum. After all, good results must be trumpeted; otherwise, it's like wearing a brocade robe at night.
Photon Pictures' official Weibo:[Congratulations to Shiyi Lang for surpassing 350 million RMB worldwide on its first day! @DirectorWangAnyi_ @EatABigOrange (Chu Zhi) @RongYiNotEasy @Ge Zongfeng @You Quan
China's first-day box office: 240 million.
Other parts of Asia: 47.21 million.
Europe: 64.79 million.
From all reposts, thirty lucky fans will win a poster and a movie ticket!]
Only thirty winners? How stingy. Besides, few people know this: if you buy a ticket at the cinema, you can ask the counter for a poster for free. If you're bold enough, you can even request the massive theater display posters after the run ends.
The film was especially loved in Italy and France, but in North America, results were poor. The first day brought in only $560,000. Whether it was weak promotion or simply that American audiences weren't interested, the performance was disappointing.
So Photon didn't bother adding those numbers. 350 million RMB worldwide was already a glorious headline.
Of course, compared to Min Jeongbae's Lunar New Year comedy, which earned 780 million RMB in a single day, it wasn't top-tier.
But Shiyi Lang had won the Venice Golden Lion. People expected an art film. For an art film to break 300 million on opening day was extraordinary—rare in global film history, let alone in Wang Anyi's career.
Capitalists, critics, and industry professionals were left green with envy, scribbling calculations in their minds.
And the star of it all, Chu Zhi, quietly went back to filming his MV.
Golden Week meant holidays for the country, but in entertainment, it meant the busiest season. Even though Chu Zhi wanted to give his company a break, peak season only meant more overtime and higher pay.
"Brother Chu, for the afternoon festival finale, are you singing one song or two?" asked Niu Jiangxue.
"Two," Chu Zhi decided after a moment of thought.
Why hesitate? Mainly because he hadn't yet decided what song his "Emperor Beast" self should sing. Thankfully, as the finale act, he had flexibility.
If CEO Fei of Modern Sky had his way, Chu Zhi would perform all afternoon.
"Did you contact Teacher Hou?" Chu Zhi asked.
"Of course. Teacher Hou didn't even hesitate. Your songwriting is well recognized," Niu Jiangxue replied.
That eased Chu Zhi's heart. One more weight off his shoulders.
The system helped him search for police-themed songs, and he settled on Young Aspirations, No Fear of Sorrow. But after some thought, he realized its style didn't fit his voice.
Often Go Home and Visit also clashed in tone. That song represented his final farewell to lingering ties from a past life. He would let it fade with time.
Chu Zhi considered rearranging the melody, but that would strip the song of its grandeur and heroic spirit. In the end, he chose not to change it. After all, not every song he wrote had to be sung by him. Instead, he passed it to the perfect singer: Hou Yubin, the "Walking Idiom Dictionary."
The line "A golden shield forged with hot blood" fit the image of the people's police too perfec
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"当爱已成往事" (Dang Ai Yi Cheng Wangshi / When Love Becomes History) — originally by 张国荣 (Zhang Guorong, Leslie Cheung) & 王菲 (Wang Fei, Faye Wong).
Historical Film Reference: "霸王别姬" (Ba Wang Bie Ji / Farewell My Concubine), Chen Kaige's 1993 masterpiece, mentioned for comparison of artistic and commercial success.
"少年壮志不言愁" (Shao Nian Zhuang Zhi Bu Yan Chou / Young Aspirations, No Fear of Sorrow).