"Did you watch it? That movie 'Love Letter' from last night?"
"I did. I didn't really understand it. The ending gave me this strange, quiet emotion, but I couldn't tell why it moved me."
"Same here. I felt really heavy afterward. I thought the movie was elegant, not overdone. I'd probably give it a 9 out of 10. But there's this feeling stuck in my chest, and I can't find a way to let it out."
"You all went with your partners and only saw it once—of course, you didn't fully get it. Trust me, go again, and you'll understand."
"True. I can't even quite explain what made this movie good. It's not one of those films that wins you over with one powerful scene. 'Love Letter' is a whole experience. If you zone out even once, you're lost. It's like high school math class: miss five minutes, and nothing makes sense afterward."
"Honestly, I was just vaguely moved the first time. But after going back for a second viewing, I totally broke down crying in the theater."
"But why did I feel nothing? Like everyone said, I know this is a good movie—I couldn't find anything wrong with it. But I just didn't feel what all those online fans are talking about."
"To put it simply, the plot isn't complicated. But a movie isn't just a story. It's a blend of narrative, acting, visuals, music, and rhythm. 'Love Letter' needs to be taken as a whole. Only when you see it in its entirety do you understand the emotional core. Watch it again. If you still don't like it, maybe it's just not your type. For me, it's the best romance film I've seen in years—but maybe that's just personal taste."
The next day, all the major entertainment media outlets were back to work.
The first-day box office results for the Qixi (Valentine's) holiday surprised many—but not to an extreme degree.
After all, the heat from Jing Yu's 'Rurouni Kenshin: Trust & Betrayal' was still lingering, and the promotional campaign for 'Love Letter' had been solid. Its pre-sale numbers were about the same as 'Summer Dream'.
So 'Love Letter' overtaking it at the box office was something people could accept.
What no one expected was just how much buzz Jing Yu's film had stirred online.
Some were raving about it, calling it a masterpiece of romance.
Others were confused, unsure why it had scored so highly on Yindou Net.
Whether people loved it or didn't understand it, hardly anyone outright called the film garbage.
And numbers don't lie.
On its second day, 'Love Letter' officially broke the 100 million mark. That final sketch of Fujii Itsuki was being reposted everywhere online.
Lines from 'Love Letter' also started spreading organically thanks to fans:
"If I'd had the courage back then, would the ending have been different?"
"Maybe I feel this way… because I liked him."
"To have someone you can miss—that's happiness."
Simple lines, really. But under the fan filter, they were quoted again and again.
Jing Yu, Cheng Lie, and the core team at BlueStar Media & Film Co. finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Jing Yu knew the truth—back in his previous life, 'Love Letter' had been widely praised and well-known, but its box office performance was just average.
And great films often don't perform well financially. Commercial appeal and artistic value rarely go hand in hand.
Marvel, DC—those franchises make money, sure. But they're born out of commerce. Ten or twenty years down the road, as tech evolves and visual effects improve, they'll be seen as outdated toys, eventually forgotten.
But true artistic classics—those stay. Even black-and-white films from the last century are still cherished, still named.
'Love Letter' may not have reached that level of timelessness yet—but no one could deny it had earned the right to be called a classic.
Jing Yu made this movie simply because he loved it. He wanted to bring it to this world.
Whether or not it made big money wasn't his concern. But the movie market is tied directly to ticket sales and attendance. If the numbers were too low, that would've just meant one thing: audiences didn't like it.
"These numbers are solid." Jing Yu was in a great mood that day, kicked his feet up on the desk, and put on some music.
"Of course! It broke 100 million on day two! Between 'Rurouni Kenshin: Trust & Betrayal' and 'Love Letter', these are the only two movies our company has ever produced—and one pulled in 1.12 billion and won the summer season, while the other is now topping the Qixi charts!" Cheng Lie was so hyped that he was speaking 20% faster than usual.
Naturally, part of his excitement came from how much his income was tied to the two films.
Given 'Love Letter''s current performance, surpassing 'Rurouni Kenshin: Trust & Betrayal' was unlikely—summer had a longer release window. But still, combined, the two films were pulling in over a billion. The company's share would be at least 500 million.
The two films plus Jing Yu's additional promotional investment totaled around 150 million. In return? Triple the profit.
And with Cheng Lie holding 4% of the company's shares—
That meant the past half-year, since he left Yunteng TV to follow Jing Yu, had already earned him over 20 million. Yu Youqing and Xia Yining were both looking at close to 10 million in dividends each. Sure, they'd each invested several million themselves, but their return multiples were still huge.
Honestly, if he'd stayed at Yunteng TV for a lifetime, he probably wouldn't have made what he did in just this half-year. So yeah, he was over the moon.
"A good start is half the battle. BlueStar Media & Film Company just exploded into the movie scene. With these two successes behind us, any future releases will get top billing from cinemas, distribution platforms, and competitors. No more getting snubbed like 'Rurouni Kenshin: Trust & Betrayal' with only a 5% opening-day screen share."
Thinking of that still irritated Cheng Lie a little. If the movie had gotten a better screen allocation from the start, they might've pulled in another hundred million or two.
"That's secondary. What really matters… is that people liked what we made."
Jing Yu kept his eyes on the computer, scrolling through fans' comments.
"These past six months, all our hard work… at least it didn't dishonor the scripts of these two films. We didn't create something that turned people's worldview upside down."
Cheng Lie paused.
So that's where Jing Yu's sense of fulfillment came from.
Sure, making something people love is satisfying.
But for Cheng Lie, the money still mattered more.