The preview screening of “Battle City 2” was Jiang Yu’s insistence. His reasoning was simple: Ye Zhou’s previous films had utilized advance screenings to build word-of-mouth, resulting in explosive box office growth.
Jiang Yu had also watched Ye Zhou’s films, but perhaps due to his enemy bias, he considered them no better than trash. He believed their high box office returns were solely due to Ye Zhou being Jiang Tingyuan’s lover, with the rest attributed to sheer luck.
While Ye Zhou relied on luck, Jiang Yu prided himself on the quality of his film. Though “Battle City 2” had faced numerous obstacles from production to release, he had personally overseen every penny invested.
Moreover, the box office success of the first “Battle City” was undeniable. Years later, it still maintained high ratings across various platforms. While its popularity had waned somewhat, it still far outperformed Ye Zhou’s films. Unlike Ye Zhou’s amateur efforts, Jiang Yu’s sequel came with an established fan base and audience.
Jiang Yu had personally reviewed the final cut and deemed it excellent. It had everything: talented actors, a skilled director, a solid script, and top-notch special effects from a leading domestic team.
From every angle, Jiang Yu believed this would be a beloved, critically acclaimed masterpiece. Hence, he adamantly demanded a preview screening.
Despite repeated attempts by Peak’s executives to dissuade him, Jiang Yu remained stubbornly committed. Every discussion ended in disagreement, and in the end, even the experienced executives gave up trying to reason with him, letting him have his way.
After all, given the film’s poor quality, the preview would only hasten their embarrassment. It might impact box office numbers, but at this point, that hardly mattered.
And so, “Battle City 2” had its preview screening.
To be fair, Jiang Yu may have all sorts of peculiar biases towards this film, but he wasn’t entirely wrong about one thing: the film did have a considerable fan base, even larger than he had anticipated.
The original “Battle City” took the film industry by storm. Its innovative world-building and grand concepts spawned a universe that extended beyond the confines of the film itself.
Following its success, a deluge of derivative works emerged, from fan fiction to various character pairings. As fans would say, there was an abundance of content to consume daily.
Though this fervor had naturally diminished over time, a substantial fan base still remained.
Based on the IP alone, “Battle City 2” outshone many films, so it’s understandable why Jiang Yu had such unwavering confidence in this film.
On the premiere day, Jiang Yu took out his high-end suit that he stored away and had his secretary neatly iron it. As he adjusted his tie in front of the mirror, he nodded approvingly at his tall, handsome reflection.
Though he’d viewed the film privately numerous times, Jiang Yu couldn’t miss the preview as an investor. He’d secured a seat well in advance.
Unlike his usual preferred viewing spot, Jiang Yu chose a corner in the last row. While not ideal for watching the film, it offered an excellent vantage point to observe the audience’s reactions. Crucially, it was discreet enough to go unnoticed.
Jiang Yu’s seat selection served another purpose: to watch Ye Zhou and Jiang Tingyuan’s reactions. Yes, he’d arranged for their tickets to be for the same screening as his.
He eagerly anticipated their expressions upon seeing his masterpiece. What would their expressions be? Would they be surprised? Jealous? Envious?
Jiang Yu had imagined various scenarios, but nothing prepared him for what actually transpired.
As the lights came up, despite the distance, Jiang Yu could see Ye Zhou covering his eyes, though he couldn’t hear their conversation.
While wondering the meaning behind Ye Zhou and Jiang Tingyuan’s interaction, Jiang Yu overheard a nearby couple’s conversation.
“Why did we choose this movie? It’s so boring, just a jumbled mess. I’m completely lost,” a tall young man complained to his girlfriend, removing his 3D glasses and rubbing the red marks on his nose.
His petite girlfriend looked equally embarrassed and annoyed. “I didn’t expect it to be this bad. The first ‘Battle City’ was great. I thought the same team couldn’t mess up the sequel, but who knew it’d be such a disaster!”
Jiang Yu had been confidently awaiting positive reviews, but instead of praise, he unexpectedly received two scathing critiques.
Little did he know, these two negative reviews were just the beginning.
Just as the young couple finished speaking, others chimed in. “This quality of this movie can’t compare to the original. The direction, acting, and script are all far behind.”
“Yeah. Especially the special effects. The first half was okay, but the second half just shocked me. They had the audacity to release this with such shoddy effects. Even decades-old effects were better than this!”
A man in casual wear took a sip of water before continuing his scathing critique. “And they had the nerve to do a preview screening? What, were they afraid their reputation wasn’t plummeting fast enough?”
“Reputation? This trash doesn’t have one. Didn’t this film face multiple scandals recently? I bet they’re aiming for black PR route. The more we criticize, the more attention it gets.”
“Hetui1Spitting sound! Chasing dirty money like this, aren’t they afraid of drowning in criticism?”
“Well, nowadays it’s all about money. As long as it makes a profit, who cares about quality? It’s all about hype, promotion, and publicity!”
“Shouldn’t actors improve with experience? How did the leads’ performances get worse over the years? Some award-winning actors they are – more like pretty faces with no substance.”
“They must have changed directors. I refuse to believe the same person directed both films. The quality gap is enormous.”
“Honestly, can we talk about the plot? Did aliens abduct the screenwriter and remove their brain? The story is utter garbage, and they still forced a happy ending. What a joke.”
…
What started as a discussion between a few people snowballed as more joined in, likely due to the film’s overwhelming awfulness. Even 15 minutes after the credits rolled, few left the theater. Instead, they took turns voicing their criticisms in a lively exchange.
The creative insults kept coming, causing Jiang Yu’s expression to cycle through expectation, confusion, anger, fury, despair, and finally, ashen defeat.
If he hadn’t held such high hopes from the start, the disappointing outcome wouldn’t have hit so hard. The Peak executives, for instance, wouldn’t be surprised or react strongly no matter how poorly the film performed in reviews or box office.
But Jiang Yu had placed too much hope on this movie. He had practically invested everything he had. He had gone all in, hoping to use it as his ticket back to the top, even surpassing his previous achievements.
However, all his hopes evaporated like soap bubbles, easily popped by the stream of negative comments from the departing preview audience.
Though discussions in the theater continued, Ye Zhou and Jiang Tingyuan didn’t participate. As soon as the lights came up, Ye Zhou pulled Mr. Jiang away.
Embarrassed by the kiss, Ye Zhou ran to avoid Mr. Jiang seeing his flushed face. Only when they left the theater did the cool evening breeze slightly quell the heat in his chest.
Ye Zhou kept running, and Jiang Tingyuan indulgently matched his pace, despite it clashing with his formal attire. He didn’t ask Ye Zhou to stop.
After running for some time, Ye Zhou stopped beneath a streetlight, hands on his hips, chest heaving. His heavy breathing pierced the quiet night.
Jiang Tingyuan was in a slightly better state, but his suit looked a bit disheveled from the intense run just now. He stood next to Ye Zhou, using his slender hands to gently pat his back and help him catch his breath.
Moonlight, starlight, streetlight – none compared to the tenderness in Jiang Tingyuan’s eyes as he gazed at Ye Zhou.
Ye Zhou stared into those eyes, long aware of their beauty but usually seeing only cold detachment. Tonight, that distance vanished, replaced by a warmth like a summer night full of stars, easy to get lost in.
Noticing Ye Zhou’s prolonged silence, Jiang Tingyuan began, “What’s…”
But before he could finish, Ye Zhou suddenly pushed him against the wall. Without warning, Ye Zhou rose on his toes and kissed him fiercely.
Ye Zhou didn’t know where this impulse came from, but in that moment, he desperately wanted to act on it.
One hand cushioned Mr. Jiang’s head against the wall, while the other grabbed his tie, pulling him into a forceful kiss.
The kiss was like a tempest – more accurately described as gnawing than kissing. After all, although he didn’t want to admit it, Ye Zhou’s kissing skills were really bad.
Fortunately, Mr. Jiang didn’t mind, allowing Ye Zhou’s clumsy efforts.
Oblivious to his lack of skill, Ye Zhou released Mr. Jiang’s tie after the kiss, smugly asking, “Will you dare to kiss me casually again?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Jiang Tingyuan was very cooperative and had a good attitude of admitting his mistakes.
But his hand was less behaved. His long fingers unexpectedly brushed against the corner of Ye Zhou’s lips, wiping away the ambiguous moisture there.
Ye Zhou felt awkward and was about to say something else when Jiang Tingyuan’s words made him blush furiously.
“Next time, you kiss me.”
“As you please.”
