The frenzy of public opinion, initially controllable, had spiraled beyond restraint. What began with marketing accounts and paid commenters had snowballed into a terrifying scale of participation, rendering even the instigators powerless to intervene.
Ye Zhou found himself at the center of this maelstrom, which intensified as the prestigious Golden Jade Film Festival’s opening drew near.
On the eve of the festival, trolls unleashed their final barrage. They criticized and condemned fiercely with the most malicious words, holding their keyboards high as if on a pedestal, displaying an attitude of being the only sober one among the intoxicated crowd. Any attempt to defend Ye Zhou would immediately be met with a frenzy of attacks.
It seems that criticizing Ye Zhou has become a form of political correctness, and online there are even statements like “As long as you criticize Ye Zhou, we are good friends.”
Was Ye Zhou truly deserving of such vitriol? Of course not. It’s just that sometimes, people will vent all their pent-up emotions in life on the internet. These people have a special name: keyboard warriors.
These keyboard warriors who mock or even insult Ye Zhou seemed to know everything about him, but in reality, they may not have even heard of Ye Zhou before this incident, let alone seen his work.
This targeted campaign, orchestrated by Summit and Jiang Yu, had devolved into a frenzy of cyberbullying, where no one cared about right or wrong; the keyboard warriors only cared about satisfying themselves with insults.
In this irrational onslaught, any attempt at explanation proved futile. Defending Ye Zhou invited immediate attack from this group of keyboard warriors.
But what did Ye Zhou do wrong? He simply made a movie. He poured his heart and soul into this movie, not for fame or fortune, but for one purpose only…
To fulfill the last dream of Yuan Sang.
This rabid cyberbullying disgusted even industry veterans. They began speaking out for Ye Zhou, starting with Director Sang’s old friends – renowned directors, retired acting legends, and film critics who had previously supported him.
Leading these critics was Jun Yi, a self-proclaimed Ye Zhou fan. He’d been posting supportive messages on Weibo almost daily since the cyberbullying began. Half of Jun Yi’s posts were about Ye Zhou, and he even engaged in heated debates with haters. Some of his followers abandoned him, but he didn’t care.
Jun Yi’s mantra became: “Ye Zhou’s worth isn’t for others to judge. His work speaks for itself. I trust my own eyes and ears to discern right from wrong. I believe what I see and hear, not what others tell me.”
Compared to the critics’ defense, the top directors’ support for Ye Zhou was more straightforward. Some directors reposted a few marketing account posts that criticized Ye Zhou, with blunt comments like, “Nonsense!”
Other directors directly mentioned Ye Zhou, offering to introduce reliable lawyers for free if needed.
Of course, the most remarkable response came from Director Tang Bo. In a recent press interview, as a close friend of Director Sang, he voluntarily addressed the recent issues surrounding “The Most Beautiful” and Ye Zhou.
Many journalists thought he would also condemn and criticize Ye Zhou. They eagerly anticipated his reaction, only to witness this usually calm director suddenly become heated, rebuking the unethical media for their biased reporting and nonsense.
Many of the media personnel who had previously reported negative news about Ye Zhou turned red with embarrassment at his accusations, feeling uncomfortable.
The reporter from Pineapple Entertainment, the first media outlet to break the negative news about Ye Zhou, was the first to lose his composure and immediately spoke up, saying, “Even if you are a famous director, you can’t casually blame us media personnel. Our profession emphasizes objectivity. During Director Qian’s press conference, you can go and check. The comments about Director Ye Zhou were not fabricated by the media; every word was based on evidence.”
Director Tang Bo suddenly calmed down upon hearing this. He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Director Qian? Which one?”
“Director Qian—”
Before the reporter could finish, Tang Bo suddenly had a look of realization, “Oh, you mean Qian Jun? The one who’s terrible at filmmaking but excels at flops?”
“You believe him? Didn’t his last movie—something about willows by a pond—flop spectacularly? Two hundred million investment for less than twenty million box office? Tell me, how can you criticize others when your own movie turns out like a disaster? Do you have no self-awareness? Still, have the nerve to critique others?”
“You so-called ‘professional, objective’ media actually believed that? Unbelievable.”
As soon as he spoke, Tang Bo’s sarcasm was palpable. Director Tang Bo was known in the industry for his fiery temper. If the media channels communicate well, he would reciprocate. However, if the media starts playing tricky games, Tang Bo would not hesitate to retaliate with full force.
The journalists who often interviewed Director Tang witnessed his outburst and immediately shrank back, subconsciously taking a few steps back, distancing themselves from the journalist from Pineapple Entertainment.
The journalist from Pineapple Entertainment, embarrassed by Director Tang’s comments, could not bear the public scrutiny and gritted his teeth to retort, “Although Director Qian’s film ‘Willows by the Pool’ didn’t achieve high box office numbers, it did get nominated…”
Before he could finish his sentence, Director Tang, looking very unimpressed, laughed and asked, “You weren’t about to say it was nominated for the Winter Warmth Film Festival, were you? In your line of work, it’s best to get your facts straight. Everyone knows Qian Jun didn’t even set foot inside the Winter Warmth event. You guys should know that, right?”
“It’s truly amazing how some shameless people and incidents exist in this world. I’ve seen stars crash red carpets before, but at my age, I have never seen a director do that. Qian Jun really opened my eyes back then.”
Qian Jun’s most well-known film was the one he collaborated on with Director Sang years ago. Since then, his works had been declining in quality. However, the awards received from their collaboration are sufficient to sustain his reputation for a lifetime. Even with his disappointing recent works, few dare speak ill of him due to the accolades from that particular film.
Qian Jun even publicly stated more than once that the poor box office results were not due to the quality of his films but rather because modern audiences are captivated by flashy appearances, allowing subpar works to overshadow excellent ones. When Ye Zhou’s “A Farce” was making waves, Qian Jun did not directly name anyone, but his implications were crystal clear.
While others showed respect toward Qian Jun due to his seniority, addressing him politely as “Director Qian” when outside, Tang Bo had no such reservations. Usually, he ignored Qian, but now that he was provoked, he mercilessly exposed him.
After Director Tang’s interview was reported online, the internet exploded into a frenzy. Some with a bit of rationality began to reconsider their views, while the keyboard warriors remained immersed in their last moments of revelry, unwilling to wake up.
The night before the Golden Jade Film Festival began, the keyboard warriors unleashed their final frenzy. After the festival’s official Weibo account announced the list of selected films, they flooded the comments section, fervently discussing and calling for a boycott against Ye Zhou.
During these wild moments, anyone who spoke up for Ye Zhou would undoubtedly face fierce backlash. Public relations experts typically advise against responding in such volatile situations, preferring to let the furor die down naturally.
The senior PR team from Jiang’s public relations group, working with Ye Zhou’s PR team, gave the same advice. Ye Zhou, who had endured criticism for so long, had no objections. However, what surprised everyone was that even amidst the storm, those supporting Ye Zhou never wavered. Initially, it was organized by Xu Wei, one of Ye Zhou’s fans.
Xu Wei and several other fan site administrators worked tirelessly overnight to compile a video montage from the period spanning from “A Farce” to “The Most Beautiful.” All the exciting moments and scenes were meticulously edited into an exclusive collection dedicated to Ye Zhou.
Since “The Most Beautiful” had not been released yet, they had to source material repeatedly from a few short previews.
The final video was stunning, accompanied by a powerful message that was also released along with the video.
“The light never fears the darkness; as you move forward, ahead lies a brilliance of indescribable brightness and endless possibilities.”
Film critic Jun Yi immediately reposted this message with a sunshine emoji. Soon after, other film critics began to share it as well. In just a short ten minutes, the number of reposts and likes had already exceeded tens of thousands.
Predictably, most comments were scornful. It would be a sleepless night for many.
Unsurprisingly, most of the comments under these Weibo posts were filled with various sarcastic remarks, making it a sleepless night.
Among the numerous retweets supporting Ye Zhou, there was one name that stood out from the rest.
—
In a dark room of a suburban apartment, a young man typed and deleted a long string of characters on the keyboard, only to delete them one by one.
Frustrated, he ruffled his messy hair and checked his bank balance on his phone, growing increasingly agitated.
If Ye Zhou were here right now, he would surely recognize this young man as none other than his number one anti-fan, Flying Melon.
Melon had been incredibly annoyed recently. He knew that whenever Ye Zhou’s name appeared, trouble was sure to follow. He wondered if he had fallen under some sort of curse cast by Ye Zhou.
About two weeks ago, he received a collaboration email offering to pay him 100,000 for posting several negative reviews of the film The Most Beautiful, with the main focus of criticism on Ye Zhou.
100,000 for a review was quite a generous offer. In the past, Flying Melon would have accepted without hesitation.
This time was no different. Even though his feelings toward Ye Zhou had become somewhat conflicted since Ye Zhou invited him to watch a movie, he believed in making money when the opportunity arose.
So Flying Melon immediately accepted the invitation and made time to buy a ticket and watch “The Most Beautiful” at the cinema.
Initially, Flying Melon approached the movie theater with a critical eye, but after leaving the theater with swollen eyes, he knew that this time it wouldn’t be easy to fulfill his task.
He stubbornly bought tickets for repeat viewings, attempting to control his emotions and find flaws, but even after watching it multiple times, certain scenes still brought tears to his eyes.
He had also read the negative reviews about Ye Zhou online at first to gather material for his own reviews. But as he continued reading… inexplicably, he became infuriated!
It is often said that your greatest enemy is the one who knows you best, and in some aspects, this statement holds true. Flying Melon, as Ye Zhou’s number one online hater for years, understood Ye Zhou even more deeply than some of his fans.
For example, Flying Melon knew all too well about the little techniques Ye Zhou often used in filming, his skillful composition, camera movements, and various filming techniques he frequently applied. But the problem lies in the fact that the deeper the understanding, the trickier it becomes.
Some haters claimed that the success of this movie was solely attributed to Director Sang, with Ye Zhou merely riding on his coattails and gaining fame without contributing much. They said Ye Zhou was just a figurehead on set, slacking off most of the time.
This might work for deceiving amateurs, but Flying Melon absolutely refused to believe it. He knew Ye Zhou too well. Even if Ye Zhou intended to imitate Director Sang’s filming style, every director has their own filming habits. While outsiders may not notice, those who pay attention can recognize the director’s work from various details.
Reluctantly, Flying Melon had to admit to himself… he recognized it.
On one side was money, on the other was his dwindling sense of professional ethics. Flying Melon decisively chose money because he had no lofty ideals, nor any professional principles. He simply wanted a comfortable life with plenty in his pockets.
As the saying goes, “If you don’t make money, you’re a bastard.” Who would turn down a doorstep gift of ten thousand yuan? Only a fool would do so.
After convincing himself mentally, Flying Melon made the decision to continue hating on Ye Zhou, pretending not to notice or recognize the intricate details, diligently working to earn a living.
However, while his intentions were ideal, reality was harsh. After making up his mind, Flying Melon opened his computer, ready to criticize Ye Zhou, only to find himself dumbfounded that he couldn’t write anything.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to write, but… whenever he closed his eyes, images and scenes from the movie would flood his mind, hindering any coherent thoughts.
For over a week, Flying Melon had been in this state. His document only contained a dry movie review of less than six hundred words, and even that was a patchwork of snippets taken from his previous reviews.
With the final deadline looming, Flying Melon stared at his computer screen, reading through his document from start to finish. He lit a cigarette and took a drag. As the heat reached his fingertips, he rudely stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray. He quickly grabbed his phone and fiddled with it, then threw it onto the bed as if it were a hot potato, out of sight, out of mind.
After completing these actions, Flying Melon let out a deep sigh. His hand hovered over the keyboard, pressing the delete key, fingers applying a slight pressure as lines of text on the screen were swiftly erased.
Soon, the already sparse document was wiped clean, returning to square one.
Flying Melon stared complexly at the blank screen for a long time, then suddenly seemed to have a realization. His expression became somewhat carefree, muttering under his breath, “Tsk, it seems like I’ve used up all my remaining conscience on you!”
After cursing, his fingers rapidly tapped on the keyboard. The thoughts that had been blocked for so long suddenly burst forth.
“Many people ask me about my opinion on Ye Zhou, so let me share a few words?”
“In some aspects, he is a fool.”
“In some aspects, he is undeniably a genius.”
…
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