Chapter 0938: Release

People always have to grow up, just like the ever-passing years.

Time takes away the innocence that once dwelled in people's hearts. The naive youth, once filled with fantasies in their minds, are constantly worn down by reality, their sharp edges smoothed, repeatedly defeated by life. In the end, they can only learn the rules of adulthood, shed their former innocence, and no longer think about life with a child's logic.

Once upon a time, we fantasized about becoming superheroes.

But after growing up, we all become the adults we once despised.

All those childish and ridiculous ideas become childhood fantasies in the face of reality. Occasionally, when we recall them, we feel that our past selves were as naive as a chuunibyou teenager.

But if a person lives without even a single dream, life is truly meaningless.

"My dream is to see Ma Dajun disgraced and ruined."

Jiang Wen sat in the cinema and said to Zhao Fusheng beside him.

Today, he was dragged by Zhao Fusheng to watch "The Missing Gun."

That's right, it was "The Missing Gun."

Directed by Ma Dajun.

Originally, Jiang Wen was a bit puzzled, but Zhao Fusheng's words convinced him: even as rivals, they had to admit that the script of "The Missing Gun" was decent; there was no harm in taking a look.

Most importantly, Zhao Fusheng also wanted to see what Ma Dajun would make of "The Missing Gun."

As it turned out, he was wrong.

Two hours later, Zhao Fusheng and Jiang Wen walked out of the cinema, both with strange expressions.

"What the hell was that!"

Jiang Wen muttered under his breath.

Zhao Fusheng blinked, shrugged, and finally let out a sigh.

"What, you think I'm wrong?" Jiang Wen glanced at Zhao Fusheng and sneered, "A perfectly good script turned into a nondescript mess. The first half is comedy, then it starts preaching seriously. Does something like that even deserve to be called a movie?"

"Strictly speaking, as long as he shot it and it's released in theaters, it counts as a movie." Zhao Fusheng chuckled, then said helplessly, "Honestly, I didn't expect Ma Dajun to make something like this either."

Originally, in Zhao Fusheng's impression, since Ma Dajun claimed to be the country's top commercial film director, he should at least have made a commercial blockbuster.

At the very least, even if he followed Lu Chuan's script, he could have made a work that would sweep film festivals.

But the facts were right in front of him; Zhao Fusheng was wrong.

A nondescript film.

The ideas it wanted to express were unclear; it wanted to bow to commercialization but was unwilling to abandon its own artistic connotation. That was Zhao Fusheng's assessment of the entire film, and also the reason why Jiang Wen said "what the hell."

Today was December 20th, the day "The Missing Gun" and "Cell Phone" were released simultaneously. The two had originally come to scout the enemy's situation, but now neither had the mood for that.

"Tell me, has Ma Dajun lost his mind? How did he make something like this?" Jiang Wen said to Zhao Fusheng as they walked.

Since it was just him and Zhao Fusheng, nothing they said would be overheard, so he naturally spoke without restraint, saying whatever came to mind.

Zhao Fusheng chuckled: "Marie Curie once said, don't casually toy with a man's heart, because there's only one, and it's fragile. If you want to play, play with his balls, because there are two..."

“Huh?”

Jiang Wen looked baffled. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said.” Zhao Fusheng smiled. “Ma Dajun is simply not suited for this kind of film. The reason he’s directing it himself is largely because we forced his hand. So do you really think a comedy director suddenly going for an artistic style can succeed?”

He had another thought he didn’t voice: Ma Dajun’s previous successful films were all collaborations with Gao Zhenhai. This time the screenwriter was Lu Chuan, whose style was completely different, and word had it the two had clashed repeatedly on set. It would be a miracle if the film didn’t run into trouble.

Jiang Wen, however, seemed lost in thought over Zhao Fusheng’s words. Clearly, Zhao’s remarks about style had given him some ideas about his own filmmaking path.

“Come on, let’s head back.” Zhao Fusheng patted Jiang Wen on the shoulder and smiled.

But Jiang Wen shook his head. “Let’s grab a bite and sit for a while.”

“Uh, all right.” Zhao Fusheng nodded helplessly. Clearly, Old Jiang was in the mood to drink.

Still, Zhao Fusheng had to admit that many restaurants in the capital were real rip-offs, relying on decor to attract customers while skimping on service and food quality. But he couldn’t deny that no matter how bad the food was in such places, it didn’t change the fact that they were perfect for dates—because women, like dragons, are naturally drawn to shiny things.

The problem was, two men sitting in a Western restaurant felt awkward no matter how you looked at it.

“Hey, can we go somewhere else?”

Zhao Fusheng sat there, feeling the occasional glances cast their way, and whispered helplessly to Jiang Wen, “Don’t you think it’s weird for the two of us to be sitting here?”

Of course it was weird—everyone around them was a couple!

“What’s there to change? We’ll eat and leave.” Jiang Wen didn’t care at all, lowering his head to eat his steak. “Their steak is pretty good.”

Zhao Fusheng was speechless, but too lazy to argue. He lowered his head and began to battle his own food.

As Jiang Wen said, they’d eat and go—why bother about anything else?

The biggest difference between men and women, perhaps, is that men can often let themselves go, shutting out the world and focusing solely on the task at hand.

In plain terms, they shamelessly ignore all staring eyes.

Women, on the other hand, tend to think that others’ opinions and thoughts matter to them.

Not that that’s a bad thing—a gentleman dies for his知己, and a woman makes herself beautiful for the one who loves her—that makes perfect sense. But in Zhao Fusheng and Jiang Wen’s worldview, when they lowered their heads to focus on one thing, everything around them could be ignored.

“I’m done.”

Jiang Wen finished his steak quickly, then looked up and glanced around. Apart from himself and Zhao Fusheng, everyone else was indeed a couple.

No help for it—today was Christmas Eve, a perfect day for lovers to date. People like him and Zhao Fusheng, two men eating steak in a Western restaurant, were an extreme rarity. In fact, in the whole restaurant, theirs was the only table with two men; everyone else was a man and a woman, or couples in pairs.

Blinking, Jiang Wen stood up and walked calmly toward the counter.

Zhao Fusheng was startled. “Where are you going?”

“To pay the bill and leave.” Jiang Wen replied without turning his head.

Zhao Fusheng thought for a moment and understood. He laughed. “I thought you didn’t care what others thought.”

“I didn’t care just now. But the problem is, now I do.”

“Bullshit!”

“Trust me, sometimes believing in bullshit makes life easier.”

Zhao Fusheng decided he would never go out with Jiang Wen again.