Chapter 169 169 Screening Dilemma

Chapter 169: The Challenge of Theater Slots

It had been quite some time since *Fearless Life* wrapped production. In the interim, Lu Xu took a long break and attended three major award ceremonies—the Contention Award, the Golden Flame Award, and the Critics' Award. After all the hustle and bustle, *Fearless Life* was ultimately scheduled for a Spring Festival release.

This wasn’t Lu Xu’s first time participating in the Spring Festival season. His film *Deception* had also been released during the holiday back then. Admittedly, despite *Deception* not fitting the festive atmosphere at all, it still managed to achieve a solid box office performance.

Compared to *Deception*, *Fearless Life* was far better suited to the Spring Festival release.

The challenge of the Spring Festival, however, lay in securing theater slots, which were far more difficult to obtain than in other seasons. Still, given that the film’s theme was somewhat aligned with the holiday mood, *Fearless Life* was expected to receive more screenings than *Deception*.

At least, that was what Lu Xu and the *Fearless Life* creative team had initially thought.

*Fearless Life* released its first trailer, announced its release date, and director Miao Zhi began negotiations with familiar theater chains, hoping to secure more screenings for the film.

Yet the results were far from satisfactory.

Even though *Fearless Life* was Lu Xu’s first film release after winning Best Actor at the Contention Award, in the Spring Festival season—where every percentage of screenings equated to money—this leverage simply wasn’t enough.

It might have sufficed in other seasons, but not during Spring Festival.

That said, *Fearless Life*’s theater slots weren’t exactly terrible. Its opening day screenings were expected to top 10%, with adjustments to follow based on box office performance.

This year’s Spring Festival slate featured two particularly noteworthy films: *Boundless Ambition* and *Return Undecided*. While neither appeared to be the kind of blockbuster that could effortlessly rake in billions in revenue, both boasted strong directors, talented actors, and solid relationships with theater chains.

*Return Undecided*, in particular, was the subject of industry rumors while Miao Zhi was struggling with theater negotiations—its director was a student of Liu Rennong, who had invested in the film and personally handled discussions with theater chains.

The fact that Liu Rennong and Miao Zhi had bad blood between them was now common knowledge.

Though Liu Rennong hadn’t directed a film in years, he still maintained excellent connections with theater chains. Take, for example, *How Much Do You Know*, the film that had propelled his career to its peak. *How Much Do You Know* grossed ¥4 billion (over $500 million), setting a rare box office record in its time. However, rumors suggested that neither Liu Rennong nor the production team had profited as much as one might expect—the majority went to the theaters.

It was no secret that theaters took a significant cut from a film’s earnings, but *How Much Do You Know* stood out because the theaters’ share was allegedly far larger than anyone could have imagined.

Even with such “rumors” circulating, the source who leaked them didn’t dare reveal the actual figures, only hinting that the number was staggering.

Of course, speculation remained just that—there was no concrete evidence. But the fact that Liu Rennong had strong ties with theater chains wasn’t baseless; it was common knowledge in the entertainment industry.

With *Return Undetermined* leveraging Liu Rennong’s connections, ample screenings were guaranteed. In the Spring Festival season, where even a 0.1% difference in screenings could translate to massive box office returns, *Return Undetermined* had already secured a spot among the top earners.

Lu Xu didn’t want to think the worst, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Liu Rennong’s intentional support for *Return Undecided* might have been deliberate.

“This isn’t the first time,” Miao Zhi remarked, rarely speaking openly about Liu Rennong’s targeting. “But usually, he operates under the guise of mentorship or supporting new directors. He rarely confronts me directly.”

The two directors had come up in the same era. When they first started, box office success wasn’t a priority in China—hardly any directors made commercial films, and the focus was solely on winning awards.

During awards season, Liu Rennong and Miao Zhi often found themselves competing, as their films tended to release around the same time. Ironically, after their falling-out, their works never clashed again.

Both were prolific directors, producing consistently over the years, yet not a single one of their releases ever overlapped.

Miao Zhi didn’t believe this was a coincidence.

But when it came to theater chain relationships, his network simply couldn’t match Liu Rennong’s.

Or perhaps… he had less room to negotiate.

For *Fearless Life*’s Spring Festival release, Miao Zhi had already called in favors from his mentors, classmates, and close friends to negotiate with theater chains, but the results were far from what he’d hoped for. Later, just as Miao Zhi refused to give up, one of his former classmates advised him to let it go.

According to this classmate, *Return Undecided* had made significant concessions, making it extremely difficult to squeeze out additional screenings for *Fearless Life*.

The classmate had a good relationship with Miao Zhi. Though they hadn’t pursued directing after graduation, their career still revolved around the film industry. Over the years, as Miao Zhi’s career had been far less smooth than Liu Rennong’s, this classmate had repeatedly pushed him to play the game, diplomatic and flexible, cultivating better relationships with all facets of the industry.

However, this time when lobbying for more screenings for *Fearless Life*, his classmate actually felt that Miao Zhi's lack of political savvy was a good thing—because competing in the manner of *Return Undecided* is detrimental to the overall development of the film industry.

Though his classmate was tactful by nature, fundamentally he still wanted the film industry to thrive. Miao Zhi’s personality wasn’t politically savvy, but this also meant he would never sell out completely as a director for the sake of profit.

And... some people could sell out completely.

His classmate didn’t elaborate further, only saying he was willing to keep pushing for *Fearless Life*. But he’d rather the film maintain its current screen allocation and earn an honest, untainted box office in the Lunar New Year slot through audience buzz.

“There’s no need to do anything else,” his classmate said. “I think *Fearless Life* will do well commercially.”

“After all these years, it’s rare for you to put yourself out there like this. Whatever you’ve made must be a good film.”

It was unusual for Miao Zhi to ask for help, and his classmate was genuinely surprised by his persistence in securing screenings for *Fearless Life*. Given Miao Zhi’s personality, if he was willing to go to such lengths for a film, it had to be something truly remarkable.

Back when the rivalry between Miao Zhi and Liu Rennong was at its peak, he had naturally sided with Miao Zhi.

After all, everyone could see that Miao Zhi’s works were clearly better than Liu Rennong’s—more nuanced, with more layered characters.

……

Lu Xu had no idea how much effort Miao Zhi had put in, nor was he aware of the behind-the-scenes politics of screen allocation. But after the *Fearless Life* team released the trailer, Lu Xu reposted it on Weibo along with a long-form post.

The core message of his post was—*Fearless Life* was the film that transformed him.

Lu Xu’s post was raw and personal. He shared his reflections on portraying the character Bai Qianshan, the people he met and the words he heard during filming. After two months of laying low—reading books, watching films—his ability to express himself had improved significantly, and he had come into his own as a person.

In fact, many fans had already noticed this change since his return to City C after wrapping up *Fearless Life*.

“If you want to see a different Our boy Lu, please support *Fearless Life*.”

“I will!”

“I can tell Xiao Lu has a lot of confidence in the role of Bai Qianshan. If that’s the case, I’ll definitely go to the cinema to support it!”

The trailer for *Fearless Life* only featured the scene where Bai Qianshan saves someone, yet it left a strong impression on many fans—the vividness of the character, brought to life by Lu Xu’s performance, made Bai Qianshan feel like someone who had stepped straight out of public consciousness.

Though Lu Xu was the one portraying the role, in the trailer, all they saw was Bai Qianshan.

Even though Lu Xu didn’t appear classically handsome in the film, and the character wasn’t some typical ice-cold villain, the two-minute trailer managed to convey Bai Qianshan’s sincerity and passion.

Whether it was the moment he kicked his colleague out of the lab or his epitaph reflections, every detail made the character immediately more complex.

After *Fearless Life* officially announced its release date, many of Lu Xu’s fans decided to support it in theaters without even watching the trailer. For another segment of the audience, both the character of Bai Qianshan and the trailer itself were reasons to see the film.

“I’ve watched documentaries about Bai Qianshan—I want to see how he’s portrayed in the movie.”

“Biographical films can sometimes be disappointing, where both the production team and actors fail the character. But I also think it’s necessary for filmmakers to make these movies and for audiences to watch them. If even we won’t support them, who will remember them?”

“+1. I’ve seen many overseas biographical films—they’re usually very moving. But when I occasionally look up the real-life figures, I find they weren’t quite how the films depicted them. The movies tend to romanticize them. As for domestic ones… I personally think Bai Qianshan was an extraordinary person, yet some people worry he’ll be portrayed as too heroic, calling it ‘hagiography.’”

“Ah, the comment above speaks my mind!”

“I just hope the team does justice to Bai Qianshan. Such remarkable figures deserve the deepest respect, and I’m willing to pay for tickets—even multiple tickets if needed.”

“Hahaha, I can’t help but think of the one or two or three historical figures who got the Hollywood treatment. If there’s no clear historical record, fine—it’s ancient history, a bit of embellishment doesn’t matter. But for modern figures, ones who lived just decades ago, their stories are right there. Anyone with half a brain could adapt them faithfully, yet somehow there are so many tone-deaf filmmakers.”

Some audience members were there for Lu Xu, others for Bai Qianshan. Though *Fearless Life*’s opening-day showtimes accounted for only 14.7%, ranking fourth among new Lunar New Year releases, and the theater slots weren’t ideal, the film’s situation wasn’t as dire as Miao Zhi had feared.

On its opening day, amid the holiday movie rush, *Fearless Life* set a record—highest per-theater attendance.

In other words, for every screening, *Fearless Life* packed more butts in seats than competing films, generating higher box office revenue per theater.