Entertainment from Divorce

At exactly 7:00 a.m., the server of the International Cultural Center's official website refreshed on time, like a clear bell ringing through the clouds, precisely striking the eardrums of filmmakers around the world, breaking the tranquility of the day after New Year's Day.

The eyes of the global film market instantly focused on that blue page, where the box office data of fifteen films released at the same time were neatly arranged, like a row of soldiers waiting for inspection.

Meanwhile, the top spot was firmly held by "Interstellar"—its $500 million opening day box office was like a suddenly rising Mount Everest.

This made even the Hollywood blockbusters that followed look inferior, and the difference was obvious.

The official website's comment section was overwhelmed within three minutes, and the surge of traffic temporarily paralyzed the server.

While technicians were scrambling to expand capacity, social media around the world was in an uproar.

Someone took a screenshot of the box office chart and highlighted the location of "Interstellar" with a striking red arrow, with a twinkling star drawn at the end of the arrow.

Someone created a dynamic comparison chart showing that its box office was almost twice that of the second place, with the red curve representing "Interstellar" shooting straight into the sky like a rocket.

Those familiar with the industry know that there are many inevitable factors behind this achievement.

Tan Yue's international renown, built upon a series of excellent works, has long made him synonymous with "quality assurance."

North American audiences will go to the theater because of the words "directed by Tan Yue", even if they know nothing about the subject matter.

European film critics will dedicate the most prominent front page spot to his new film, and begin polishing their reviews a week in advance; Asian fans will spontaneously organize private screenings to show their support, holding up light sticks with his image and queuing up in long lines outside the cinema.

In addition, there was a massive publicity campaign beforehand: from NASA scientists personally standing on the stage to explain the physics settings and using formulas to deduce the shape of black holes, to Deng Gaofei's behind-the-scenes footage that evoked empathy and showed the hardships he endured while suspended underwater by wires, every step precisely hit the audience's expectations, like a carefully choreographed symphony where every note was just right.

In the newsroom of London's Guardian, the editor-in-chief slammed the freshly printed box office figures onto the table. Hot coffee splattered onto the figure of "five hundred million dollars," spreading into a brown cloud that seemed to frame the astonishing number.

"Add another edition! Add another edition immediately!" he roared into the phone, his voice trembling with excitement. "The front page headline should be 'Interstellar,' with the headline 'Chinese Director Rewrites Global Box Office Landscape,' in the largest font size, bold!"

Reporters rushed around the office, their footsteps, keyboard clicks, and ringing phones blending together like a chaotic yet vibrant symphony.

Lina, the reporter in charge of the film section, was typing on the screen, her fingers flying across the keyboard, making a rapid "tap tap tap" sound.

"When the box office figure for Interstellar settled at 500 million, we had to admit that Tan Yue was no longer the 'Spielberg of the East,' he was simply Tan Yue. A director who can make the world hold its breath with his lens. From prison walls to black holes in the universe, he can always find common ground in human emotions, that yearning for freedom, that attachment to family, which transcends race and nationality. This may be the secret to his long-lasting box office success."

In her article, she specifically mentioned Tan Yue's fan base.

"At the London premiere, I saw an elderly man with white hair holding up a poster of 'The Godfather.' The edges of the poster were worn, indicating that it had been treasured for a long time."

"I also saw children in school uniforms carrying backpacks printed with lines from The Truman Show, with the phrase 'If I never see you again, I wish you peace in the morning, afternoon and night' being particularly eye-catching."

"This kind of appeal across ages and social classes is extremely rare in today's film industry. When the cinema manager told me that many viewers are 'collectors of all of Tan Yue's works' and had watched all of his films specifically to see 'Interstellar,' and some even created dedicated viewing notes blogs for it, I suddenly realized that his box office success was not accidental, but the inevitable explosion of years of accumulation, like a silent volcano that finally erupted with a power that shocked the world."

The New York Times' film review section analyzed the film from an industry perspective, and included photos of Tan Yue working on set.

"Behind the $500 million is Tan Yue's team's accurate grasp of the global market. They not only preserved the oriental symbol of 'Pu'er tea in a spaceship,' making the scene of Cooper brewing tea in space a hot topic, but also hit the soft spot of all mankind with the theme of 'love transcends time and space.'"

"The scientific explanations released during the promotional period attracted a large number of highly educated viewers. When a movie can be enjoyed by NASA scientists and ordinary housewives at the same time, when a physics professor praises its rigor and when a market vendor sheds tears for its emotions, its box office performance is destined to be extraordinary. This is a rare art of balance."

The domestic media reacted even more enthusiastically, like a grand celebration.

The People's Daily's official Weibo account posted the news at 7:05 a.m., along with a photo of Tan Yue on set. In the photo, he is staring at the monitor with a slightly furrowed brow and a focused and determined look in his eyes.

The copy reads: "The $500 million box office is the world's recognition of Chinese films, and even more so, an affirmation of 'telling Chinese stories well'."

"Tan Yue uses science fiction to prove that Chinese films can not only look back at history and tell those magnificent past events, but also look up at the stars and imagine the infinite possibilities of the future, and communicate with the world in their own way, so as to resonate with people from different cultural backgrounds."

The front page of The Film Journal devoted an entire page to analyzing the composition of box office revenue, with charts clearly displaying the various data.

"Domestic box office accounted for 35%, demonstrating strong local appeal, with IMAX theaters in major cities selling out for three consecutive days."

"The North American market contributed 28%, and the box office distribution in Europe, Australia, Southeast Asia and other regions is balanced, proving that the film has truly achieved 'global resonance' and has no obvious regional shortcomings."

"It is worth noting that among the ticket buyers, the 25-40 age group accounts for 62%. This group is the core fan base that Tan Yue has cultivated over the years. They have followed him from the beginning and witnessed his step-by-step internationalization. Now they have become the main force of 'Interstellar' and expressed their support through box office revenue."

On social media platforms, the hashtag #InterstellarBoxOfficeTops# quickly rose to the top of the trending topics, followed by a bright red "hot" tag, and the number of views exceeded 20 billion within an hour.

Comments from netizens flooded in like a tidal wave, overwhelming the entire screen:

"As a long-time fan of director Tammy Tan since 'Forrest Gump,' I'm so excited I could set off firecrackers! From watching pirated DVDs in my dorm back in college to now taking my kids to the IMAX theater to support him, I've witnessed it all, it's been such a journey!"

"Five hundred million US dollars! What an incredible achievement! Chinese science fiction has finally stood up! We no longer need to envy Hollywood blockbusters; our own directors can also create works that shock the world!"

"Seeing foreign media praising it, saying things like 'redefining science fiction films' and 'a victory for Eastern narratives,' I suddenly felt so proud. This is our director, this is our film!"

"Those who once mocked 'China can't make science fiction' and 'Easterners lack imagination' should shut up now. Box office numbers don't lie, audience choices don't lie, and 'Interstellar' has given all the doubters a resounding slap in the face with its $500 million box office."

In Ye Wen's office, sunlight streamed through the gaps in the blinds, casting dappled shadows on the floor like a flowing abstract painting.

Her hand holding the mouse trembled slightly, her knuckles turning white from the force. She refreshed the International Cultural Center's website again and again until she was sure that the figure of "five hundred million US dollars" was as stable as a rock and would not disappear. Only then did she let out a long sigh, lean back in her chair, and her eyes instantly reddened, tears welling up in them.

The teacups on the table were still steaming, the rising steam blurring the patterns on the cups. The tea stems unfurled in the water, their tender green shapes resembling blooming little flowers. She recalled attending an international film festival ten years ago, where the Chinese film booth was relegated to the most secluded corner of the hall, right next to the restrooms. The movie posters on the display boards were covered in a thin layer of dust from being ignored.

When foreign colleagues pass by, they even walk around them, their disdainful looks like needles pricking the heart.

Now, global media are discussing a Chinese science fiction film and the Chinese director named Tan Yue. This earth-shattering change makes her chest feel warm, as if a fire is burning inside, warm and powerful.

The secretary pushed open the door, holding a tablet computer in her hand. The screen was so bright it was almost blinding, and she couldn't hide the excitement in her voice, as if she had a little rabbit in her pocket.

Ye Wen took the tablet, her fingertips stiff with excitement. The article title on the screen was eye-catching: "Behind the $500 Million Box Office: How Tan Yue Redefines the Global Film Market?"

As she read slowly, her fingertips tracing the words of praise, she suddenly recalled a meeting with Tan Yue.

At that time, he was wearing a faded shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his forearms. His eyes were clear and firm as he said, "I want the world to see the imagination of Chinese directors. We can not only make good films about history, but also about the future."

At the time, she thought the boy was ambitious and driven, but she never expected that he would actually turn that sentence into a tangible reality through his movies. Like a long relay race, he steadily ran to the finish line.

Ye Wen walked to the window, opened it, and the cool morning air rushed in, making her feel much more awake.

Looking at the distant skyline, the city's skyscrapers stand tall in the morning light, like exclamation marks growing upwards, full of power.

She knew that the $500 million box office was a beacon, a guiding light that illuminated the path of countless filmmakers pursuing their dreams, giving them hope and direction.

Tan Yue and Chen Ziyu were awakened by their cell phones ringing, the sound like a series of urgent alarms, breaking the tranquility of the early morning.

The morning sunlight shone through the gaps in the hotel curtains, casting a thin strip of light on the blankets, like a golden ribbon.

Tan Yue fumbled for his phone, and messages popped up on the screen like snowflakes, constantly refreshing—Wu Gong sent, "Congratulations, President Tan! The box office is a hit!" followed by a string of celebratory emojis.

The screenshot of the box office figures sent by Chen Ye highlighted the striking number in red; there was also a cooperation proposal from a foreign distributor, written in a respectful tone as if requesting instructions... The most eye-catching thing was the official push notification from the International Cultural Center, where the number "five hundred million US dollars" shone brightly on the screen, almost blindingly so.

"We did it."

Chen Ziyu's voice was hoarse from just waking up, as if it had been gently sanded. She leaned over to look at Tan Yue's phone, her long hair cascading down his chest, carrying a faint scent of shampoo mixed with the smell of sunshine.

Tan Yue hugged her even tighter, his chin resting on the top of her head, and he could smell the fresh scent of her sun-dried hair.

"We did it."

He corrected, his voice trembling slightly, his fingertips tracing the numbers on the screen, his eyes smiling like melting spring water, gentle and warm, "But this is just the beginning, we have a long way to go."

He recalled the days and nights he spent filming.

The special effects team worked for three months to create a black hole shot. Team leader Lao Zhang's eyes were bloodshot and he looked like a rabbit. He eventually collapsed in front of the computer.

Deng Gaofei, wearing a heavy spacesuit, practiced his movements repeatedly in the 40-degree heat. His clothes were soaked with sweat and could be wrung out, but he never complained.

Engineer Wu traveled to more than a dozen countries for overseas distribution, and before he could even adjust to the time difference, he was already in non-stop meetings, his voice hoarse from talking so much...

This box office record contains the hard work of so many people. Like a dazzling planet, it is formed from countless grains of dust, each grain of dust shining brightly.

"Mr. Wu said that overseas cinemas have already increased the number of screenings, and tickets are sold out in many places. Scalpers are selling tickets for five times the original price."

Chen Ziyu scrolled through the messages, her eyes shining like stars, reflecting the light from the screen.

"Some fans have even started a 'second viewing challenge' online, saying they want to bring their parents to watch it again so that they can also experience the charm of Chinese science fiction."

Tan Yue smiled, got up, walked to the window, and drew back the curtains.

Sunlight streamed in instantly, filling the entire room like spilled gold.

In the park in the distance, people are jogging in the morning, their steps brisk.

"I knew it would be like this."

He spoke softly, his tone resolute, as if he had foreseen all of this.

"Good stories always have vitality, just like stars. No matter how far away they are, they can always be seen and appreciated."

The two stepped out of the room, where the sunlight in the corridor was just right, shining warmly on them.

Tan Yue's phone kept receiving messages, each one filled with congratulations and anticipation, like streams of warm water.

He knew that the story of Interstellar was still going on, that its box office would snowball, and that its influence would spread like ripples, reaching even more distant places.

He and his team are ready to embrace new challenges and venture into the vast expanse of space.

Because they know that true star power is not about short-term box office numbers, but about leaving a lasting impression on the audience, illuminating the future path of Chinese cinema, and making that path wider and longer.

The street below was bustling with traffic; a new day had begun, full of life and energy. (End of Chapter)