Working hard for over a decade is not as good as others' ten-plus days

The movie Third Love actually started off quite well, with a blazing opening.

On the first day, it earned over 20 million at the box office.

The investors were almost ready to pop the champagne.

Celebrating right from the start.

Even "Fairy Sister" was thrilled—she had finally proven herself through this film.

She could make movies after all.

According to box office prediction websites, based on the first day's earnings of over 20 million, a rough estimate suggested the film could eventually gross 500 million or even more...

So, naturally, everyone started frantically continuing their promotional tours.

They had already been touring for a week before release.

Now, with such a strong opening, roadshows and fan meetings couldn’t be skipped.

Meanwhile,

other movies released on September 30th also began their promotional runs, with everyone scrambling to visit cities across the country.

However,

they all had an unspoken understanding and mostly avoided overlapping schedules to prevent conflicts.

But...

Third Love quickly showed signs of decline in its subsequent box office performance.

Second day: 13 million.

Third day: 9 million.

Fourth day: 5 million!

Fifth day: 3 million!

Total: 50 million.

It seemed like a lot...

But on this day, September 30th, with all the new releases hitting theaters, screenings became scattered and squeezed.

The battle for box office dominance officially began.

Not just Third Love, even Lost in Hong Kong was teetering under the impact—though the Lost series at least had a loyal fanbase.

So, while its earnings dropped due to reduced screenings, it didn’t plummet drastically.

As for that so-called Third Love, by the sixth day, it barely made a million, and by the seventh, just a few hundred thousand.

It quickly fell out of the top ten.

Both box office numbers and word-of-mouth reputation hit rock bottom.

Even worse,

the investors behind Third Love tried to salvage it—buying trending topics, hiring water armies to hype it up!

But their efforts vanished into the vast ocean of the internet in minutes.

Now, there were only two major films dominating online discussions:

One was Goodbye Mr. Loser.

The other was Lost in Hong Kong.

These two films occupied 90% of the online buzz, leaving the scraps for Mr. Wu and Chronicles of the Ghostly Tribe.

This wasn’t because Cao Cheng was forcibly controlling opinions—it was just the natural result of fan fervor.

Chronicles of the Ghostly Tribe and Mr. Wu weren’t even in the same genre to compete.

But Lost in Hong Kong and Goodbye Mr. Loser were both comedies, released at the same time, and had a history of rivalry—naturally sparking endless debates and clashes.

Thus, the situation became: the top two were fighting for attention at home, while the rest starved to death.

So,

forget about the third or fourth place—even the fourteenth-ranked Third Love was now completely ignored, except for a handful of fans still praising "Fairy Sister’s breathtaking beauty."

But it failed to generate any real interest.

...

Fairy Sister watched as the daily box office earnings dwindled to just tens of thousands, and she fell into depression.

All the films she’d starred in last year had flopped.

Even The Four III, the finale of a trilogy co-starring award-winning actor Deng Chao, was torn apart by critics—some said the entire trilogy combined was barely worth one star, and watching four men bromance would’ve been more entertaining.

Fairy Sister had it rough.

Her clueless mother had dragged her into trouble—making her a foreign national at a young age, then stirring conflicts with domestic companies and burning bridges left and right.

If not for her thick skin and the enduring fame of her "Fairy Sister" persona, she’d have faded into obscurity long ago.

Now, she was on "forced" leave.

At first, everyone had been energized—the first-day box office had been strong, giving them hope for a blockbuster.

But within days, they’d all plummeted from heaven to hell.

Morale shattered.

Hope extinguished.

Locking herself in her room, she needed peace.

She wasn’t naturally depressive, but repeated failures eroded her confidence, making her question whether she even belonged in this industry. She felt like giving up.

Of course,

this wasn’t the first time she’d felt this way—and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

So she just needed some quiet time to recover before picking herself up and trying again.

If anyone still wanted to cast her, she’d prove herself.

Her mother arrived, shooing away the assistants before entering her daughter’s room.

"Qianqian..."

"Don’t blame yourself for this flop. The only positive reviews online are about you—they say your beauty alone was worth the ticket price..."

"..."

Qianqian looked up. "Enough, Mom. I’m not a teenager anymore—I don’t need comforting. I know this movie failed, and whether it’s my fault or not, it’s on my record forever. Besides... I’m not afraid of a little backlash. I’ve already been called a ‘transgender’—what’s there to fear?"

Qianqian’s mother frowned. "Well, if you’re still cracking jokes, I guess you’re fine. But that Cao Cheng is a real piece of work. If not for him, our movie would’ve easily cleared 100 million."

Qianqian shook her head. "He’s not to blame. He’s been too busy battling Lost in Hong Kong and Director Gangbao to even glance at small fries like us. There’s no ‘suppression’—we just got caught in the crossfire. No one to blame but ourselves."

"..."

Her mother was speechless.

She’d never considered that angle.

But now that her daughter pointed it out, it made sense.

None of the three major players—the Lost series, Director Gangbao, or Cao Cheng—had ever paid Third Love any attention.

Even when Cao Cheng briefly warned them not to ride his hype, he immediately ignored them afterward.

Wasn’t that message clear enough?

They were simply beneath his notice.

And looking at the current box office...

Qianqian’s mother couldn’t hide her envy. "Qianqian, you have to admit—Cao Cheng has an eye for hits. That no-name comedy of his is raking in over 100 million daily, crushing Lost in Hong Kong. Predictions say it might cross 1.7 billion, maybe even more."

Qianqian’s eyes flickered.

1.7 billion.

All the movies she’d ever starred in combined probably hadn’t earned that much.

This...

How was this fair?

All those years of hard work, and he surpasses it in days?

What kind of monster is he?!

Her mother continued, "None of the domestic media conglomerates can compete with Miracle Media now. They dominate films, music, variety shows, and own 40% of the theaters—the rest are all on good terms with them too..."

"They’re practically a monopoly."

"If only we could get close to them. With your fame, Qianqian, they’d definitely take notice—maybe even offer you a leading role."

Qianqian rolled her eyes. "Based on what? That no-name comedy of his only cast actors from Mahua, and Mahua is backed by Cao Cheng’s investments. Of course he’d promote them. But me? A leading role? Why would he?"

Qianqian's mother softened her tone: "Because you're beautiful."

"Pfft, me? Beautiful? Have you seen yourself?"

"You little..." Qianqian's mother flushed.

Qianqian continued, "And haven’t you been keeping up with the news? He’s launched his own 'Twelve Golden Beauties' now. Look at them—trained in dance, talented in singing, and not bad at acting either. The campus belle Qiu Ya from Charlotte is one of them. How am I any better? And let’s not even talk about who’s more... endowed."

The last remark left Qianqian feeling a bit melancholic.

Her mother scoffed, "No matter how endowed she is, she’s still just selling her looks. Not like you—you’re the 'Fairy Sister.'"

"Please," Qianqian shook her head. "Out there, people still think I’m transgender. And with the whole 'godfather' thing hanging over me, what kind of 'Fairy Sister' am I? Oh, and let’s not forget I’m technically from Old Leng Country."

"..."

Her mother’s voice turned grave. "I can tell—you’re blaming me."

"I’m not blaming you," Qianqian said. "I’m just stating facts. This identity of mine might work with small-time investors who fawn over us, calling me 'Fairy Sister' because they want us to make them money. But in front of real capital? We’re nothing. Let’s not kid ourselves. Desperation isn’t good business."

Her mother fell silent.

No point arguing.

Ever since her daughter grew up, she wasn’t as sweet as she used to be.

Back then, she’d listen to anything.

Now? She had a comeback for everything.

And those comebacks left you speechless.

This habit of hers—always snapping back—who even taught her that?

So annoying.

---

The box office numbers for the first ten days were out.

Charlotte’s performance and hype could only be described as a "textbook underdog story."

Opening day pulled in 35 million, though a third of that came from preview screenings. The pure first-day tally was just over 24 million.

Couldn’t be helped.

Limited screenings.

Cao Cheng only secured 40%, while everyone else had already signed profit guarantees for Lost in Hong Kong, which started with a 40% screening share.

Charlotte, on the other hand, averaged just over 10%.

Yet, its early word-of-mouth rating hit 8.4 straight away!

On ticketing platforms, it scored over 9 across the board!

Its memes and gags sparked organic buzz, though some of it was definitely astroturfed.

By the second day,

Charlotte began its climb, with screenings skyrocketing.

From day four onward, daily earnings broke 100 million.

Peaking at 150 million.

Overtaking the Lost franchise.

By the tenth day, the total box office had crossed 1.4 billion.

Even Cao Cheng hadn’t expected these numbers, but he was relieved.

Day after day of growth—all that promotion and investment hadn’t gone to waste.

---

"No way."

"Absolutely no way!"

"That bastard bought the numbers."

"He must have bought them."

"I refuse to believe this."

Little Cannon was fuming.

Fourteen days, and it’s already at this? How the hell am I supposed to compete?

He had faith in Mr. Six, sure, but not this much faith.

With numbers like these, what’s the point of betting?

Should’ve just stuck to wagering against Let the Bullets Fly.

At least losing to that wouldn’t have been embarrassing.

But losing to some no-name film? And by this much? Where does that leave Mr. Six’s dignity?

Old Xu stared at the soaring box office, stunned. "Kids these days... they’re something else."

Little Cannon shot him a glare. "What’s that supposed to mean? I’m old now, huh?"

Old Xu snapped out of it and rolled his eyes. "Well? Don’t you know? And let’s not pretend Mr. Six is some masterpiece. How’s that Xu girl treating you, by the way? Oh wait, she’s already moved on to her new boytoy—what’s his name? Hua Yu, right?"

"..." Little Cannon scowled.

Damn it.

Bringing that up now?

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Whether it was the dig or plain jealousy—who could say?