SA CH125

The premiere of Zhuang Hua Luo ended at 3 a.m., yet the internet was far from quiet. Tens of thousands of netizens gathered on film review sites, eagerly waiting for audience ratings and feedback from those who had just finished watching.

As the very first rating appeared—just as many had expected—

A perfect 10 out of 10!

[The cinematography was magnificent—the waterfalls, the deserts, all of it looked stunning. I can’t really describe it well, but it was truly breathtaking. The fight scenes were also amazing! As for the story… the ending really made me think. Honestly, I felt Zhu Molang, played by Rong Xu, didn’t deserve such a fate… but then again, in that era, perhaps this was the only possible ending.]

With that, similar glowing reviews began flooding in.

[Qin Cheng was so handsome! Rong Xu was unbelievably gorgeous! I’ve officially become a fan. I could resist when he was in Dark Clouds, Lost City, and Silent, but in period costume? He’s way too beautiful ahhhh!]

[The whole movie was fantastic, absolutely thrilling—highly recommended!]

[Aaaaahhh this was the best film I’ve seen this year, totally worth it! I already bought tickets for the 3:30 a.m. screening—I’m going for a rewatch, rewatch, rewatch!]

For ordinary moviegoers, Zhuang Hua Luo had it all: smooth pacing, a lightning-fast plot, breathtaking action scenes, and every set shot on location—grand, vast, and filled with the unrestrained essence of wuxia.

Seeing such rave comments only made more people eagerly anticipate the film. But soon, spoiler reviews began appearing—and the hashtag #RongXuZhuMolang# even shot into the top ten trending searches across the entire internet!

Clicking the tag revealed a flood of spoilers.

[Huh? Rong Rong actually played the final big boss villain?!”

[Rong Rong’s playing a villain again? His Commander Huo and Professor Xue were already ridiculously cool and badass—and now he’s a stunning Crown Prince villain? Can’t wait!!]

Spoilers were inevitable in the internet age. But knowing the plot and actually experiencing the film are two completely different things. Even though netizens now knew Rong Xu played the antagonist, they weren’t about to skip the movie—a great film makes you feel it, not just read about it.

Meanwhile, over at Rong Xu’s fan forums, especially the CP subforum, countless fans still hadn’t gone to bed.

Zhuang Hua Luo was the second massive “sugar bomb” for the Cheng-Rong CP fandom—and the two had even publicly “flirted” during the premiere ceremony! With such a rare treat, Cheng-Rong CP fans absolutely couldn’t miss this. They anxiously waited for on-the-ground spoilers: even a second sooner would do—just a taste of sweetness and they’d be content!

The excited chatter continued until the first CP fan posted a thread—

[Caution: Contains spoilers QAQ—A massive dose of sugar… and an even bigger stab in the heart. I ate the sugar, but I stabbed myself with the knife while crying!]

The title stunned every CP fan who hadn’t attended the premiere; those who had were already sobbing in the thread.

[Wuwuwu it’s true… honestly, it was sweet. His Highness was so clever, cared so much for Kong Zhao, yet in the end he couldn’t bring himself to kill him. But Kong Zhao? He was awful! He killed our Prince!!]

[I bawled like crazy during the ending; my CP bestie beside me was crying just as hard. We wanted to rush into the movie and hack Kong Zhao, that heartless bastard, to death!]

[YES!! You think Kong Zhao’s a bastard too?! Me too!! That night—didn’t something happen between them?! Damn Kong Zhao—you did that to our perfect Prince, took everything and ran, and THEN you killed him?! Does your conscience not hurt?! .jpg]

[Kong Zhao: We Jinyiwei don’t have consciences.jpg]

The CP fans lurking nearby:
“…EXM?!”

What are you all even talking about?!

Sugar and knives? That night?!

Kong Zhao killed Zhu Molang?!

Originally, many CP fans had planned to stay up for spoilers, then sleep peacefully and watch the film fresh the next day, ready to enjoy their beloved Cheng-Rong sugar. Now you’re telling them—Kong Zhao killed Zhu Molang?! Killed Zhu Molang?! Say that again?! How is anyone supposed to sleep now?!

[Spoilers, please!! What happened?! Kong Zhao killed Zhu Molang?!]

[My heart can’t take this—what the hell is this?! His Highness was killed by Kong Zhao?! But didn’t God Qin himself say at the premiere that Kong Zhao admired, respected, and even liked the Crown Prince the most?!]

A CP fan soon replied:

[YES! I still believe Kong Zhao deeply respected and possibly loved His Highness. But he’s too damn rigid… he… ughhh I can’t even talk about it. Sweet and bitter at the same time. Looks like sugar—but you bite down and it’s glass. You think it’s glass—but inside? There’s a knife! But the knife… is also kinda sweet! Wuwuwuwu!]

The bewildered CP fans:

[…What the hell is this?!
Sugar? Glass shards? Knives?!]

Still, with their tickets for Zhuang Hua Luo already bought, fans—even knowing the ending where Rong Xu’s character was killed by Qin Cheng’s—grabbed several packs of tissues and eagerly ran to the theater.

After leaving the theater… they wept. Bitterly. Tears splashed on their phones as they furiously typed in the CP forums:

[I finally get what ‘sugar with knives, knives with sugar’ means!!]

[I’m too wrecked to function. Even BL novels wouldn’t dare go this far, but Director Liu actually filmed this! Who else thought that final memory scene should’ve been that kind of scene? Any authors here? Someone please write it!!]

[Yes! I thought so too! Both drunk—drunken chaos—had to happen, right?! I still remember His Highness’s last words: ‘Kong Zhao… how could you do this to me… doesn’t your conscience hurt?’ What does that mean?! Means Kong Zhao slept with our Prince! That bastard top—forgot all about it—and then killed him!!]

[Not only that!! He shot the Prince’s hand, hacked his shoulder, and stabbed him straight through the heart QAQ! Just saying this breaks my heart. His Highness must’ve been so hurt… so sad… so crushed… wuwuwuwu!]

By noon that day, dozens of top fandom creators were already producing content—

Shen Sanwan: “A little fic: Kong Zhao x Zhu Molang, Moonlit Ink, you get it—a small car incoming. [pic]”

Jing Er Yogurt: “This movie killed me. Watched it this morning—my drawing hand itched. Quick sketch—no smut this time—what if the Prince faked his death? [pic]”

Meng Tuzi: “Drew His Highness QAQ… He’s too beautiful. When he appeared, I lost it. I knew he’d die, but seeing him in full court robes, dying so broken and disheveled… somehow made him even more beautiful. Once an immortal, now a fallen mortal—heartbreakingly gorgeous wuwuwuwu. [pic]”

On the day of Zhuang Hua Luo‘s premiere, countless fans entered theaters in excitement and left in tears. Some mourned Zhu Molang’s death, while less sentimental viewers were utterly absorbed—and noticed the film seemed to leave many unanswered questions.

[Will there be a sequel? So many clues left hanging. That Prince—barely mentioned early on by Zhu Molang—suddenly became a crucial character. Suspicious.]

[Yeah, I think there’ll be a Part 2. How did Minister Sheng really die? Just illness? I doubt it.]

[Is it just me—or was the Crown Prince really fake? Minister Sheng spent two years investigating him and still only confirmed it later? Something feels off.]

Viewers across the internet shared their confusion, trying hard to solve the film’s mysteries. Director Liu had expected this—and calmly messaged a trusted film critic.

Director Liu: “It’s about time. Old Zheng, thanks for the help.”

Professor Zheng, Movie Buff: “Haha, no problem. I loved the premiere last night—but actually, I rewatched it yesterday afternoon. You really did plant a lot of hints. Only the second time did I piece things together. So… planning a sequel?”

Director Liu: “What do you think? If there’s time, money, a script, and the first film does well, of course I’ll shoot a sequel. But you know how hard that is. I just left the door open for it.”

Professor Zheng: “Haha, I get it. Gathering Qin Cheng and Huang Lei again won’t be easy. Besides—you killed off Rong Xu’s role in the first film. Otherwise, his schedule would be impossible to lock down. I heard he’s shooting Klimansky’s next film soon.”

They chatted a while longer. Ten minutes later—a full-score review appeared online.

[Zhuang Hua Luo determines the heart of the king. On this moonlit night of endless ages, blood stains the silk of blossoms and beauty.]

Professor Zheng was one of the most renowned film critics on Huaxia Film Review Network, boasting over eight million followers—no less than many second-tier celebrities. As a professor at the Central Academy of Drama, he was famous for uncovering the deeper meaning behind films, offering audiences a complete analysis that made them truly understand what they had just watched—this was why his fanbase was so massive.

Many of his fans had been waiting all day, and finally, by evening, they got to see his long-anticipated review. But as they opened it and read the first sentence, they all froze in surprise—

“Did you really understand this film?”

Did they really understand Zhuang Hua Luo?

Could it be… they had misunderstood the whole movie all along?!

And then, Professor Zheng laid bare the film’s secrets with sharp, concise words, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

[First of all—what exactly is this ‘Zhuang Hua Luo’?]

Zhuang Hua Luo was a luxurious silk fabric in ancient Huaxia, widely used during the Song and Ming dynasties… In the film’s setting—late Ming Dynasty—the craft of Zhuang Hua Luo was fading away. The only remaining true heir to this weaving technique was Madam Sheng of the Sheng family in Suzhou, who passed the skill to her daughter and relatives.

This implies that Grand Minister Sheng could weave Zhuang Hua Luo himself—at least in its simplest form.

There’s a small but telling detail early in the film: when the Jinyiwei escort Grand Minister Sheng to the capital at top speed, he is not locked in a cage but riding a horse alongside one of the Jinyiwei. Perhaps out of reverence for a great scholar, they could not bear to treat him as a common criminal. But note—riding beside him is a Jinyiwei from his own hometown.

If you knew you were about to die—likely without even meeting the Emperor—what would you do?

You’d want to leave a secret behind. But people can’t be trusted. So you’d hide the secret.

Grand Minister Sheng mended their clothes—and late that night, embroidered a special pattern of Zhuang Hua Luo into this Jinyiwei’s chest piece. Perhaps he told him, ‘If you trust this old man, this piece of cloth will serve as proof. One day, when you seek to clear my name—rely on this.’

Clearly, the Jinyiwei respected him greatly; otherwise, they would never have let him ride freely.

Then there’s the Crown Prince. In truth, the one who exposed the baby-swap conspiracy likely wasn’t his biological mother. Empress Xiaoci was far too clever—a woman who could hide ten pregnant palace maids in the harem without detection surely noticed the person she thought she’d killed was still breathing…”

…

[The film’s foreshadowing is almost fully revealed—now, let’s talk about Kong Zhao and Zhu Molang.]

Kong Zhao was born to a fallen family. Strong in martial arts, he rose to become the Commander of the Jinyiwei while still young—trusted and valued. Brave, wise, loyal, ruthless but compassionate—he lived by his own code:

‘Kindness must be repaid. Enmity repaid tenfold.’

For him, loyalty came before righteousness. So between loyalty to the Emperor and repaying gratitude, he chose the former—betraying righteousness by personally killing the Crown Prince who had treated him so well.

This was his principle: revenge for his brother and loyalty to the Emperor above all—even above personal bonds.

Zhu Molang, on the other hand, likely lived every day cautiously. Strikingly handsome, immensely talented—a ruler in the making, a filial son. No matter when he learned the truth of his birth, to the end he remained devoted to the Emperor. He was scheming and ambitious, yet cruel and merciless at heart.

It was the Crown Prince who condemned Grand Minister Sheng for treason—leading to the execution of his entire family.

It was the Crown Prince who ordered the Eastern Depot to kill eleven Jinyiwei—without mercy.

And he gave away his most loyal pawn to Kong Zhao—treating him as a discardable piece on the board. Ruthlessness indeed.

Yet this same Crown Prince also showed affection: for his father, for Kong Zhao whom he admired and valued. He sacrificed one piece to save Kong Zhao’s life—perhaps pretending to himself that he wasn’t utterly heartless, that he still understood sentiment.

But that very act was his undoing.

A ruler’s heart is the heart of the world—not of one man, nor simple kindness. Zhu Molang’s inability to forsake the personal for the greater good was the true cause of his downfall.

Zhuang Hua Luo crafted these two complex characters—worthy of repeated viewings, of slow savoring.

I was especially fond of the poem used in the film’s first poster. After seeing the movie, I found it uncannily fitting:

“Zhuang Hua Luo determines the heart of the king. On this moonlit night of endless ages, blood stains the silk of blossoms and beauty.”

Professor Zheng’s review ignited a fresh wave of heated discussion online.

Though other critics had previously analyzed hints and details in the film, none had dissected it to this depth.

In a single breath, Professor Zheng exposed thirteen pieces of foreshadowing—many of them brief moments a casual viewer would miss even after thirty viewings. Only a professional critic could spot so much hidden in fleeting frames.

With such an expert guide, countless netizens chimed in with their own thoughts—

[I didn’t notice the clue about the embroidery, but as a mother—if I knew my child was living well, I wouldn’t have revealed the truth, let alone push him into ruin myself.]

[It’s heartbreaking that Kong Zhao killed the Crown Prince—but understandable. Back then, royal bloodlines were everything. The Crown Prince was too proud—humiliated before the whole court, betrayed by his best friend, distrusted by his father… He probably lost the will to live and wanted Kong Zhao to end it.]

Review after review flooded film sites.

And every review meant at least one sold ticket.

Zhuang Hua Luo earned 490 million on its premiere day!

In just one day, the film nearly hit half a billion in box office—breaking the record held by Lost City and becoming the highest-grossing opening of late 2044.

But its momentum didn’t falter on Day Two!

The second day’s box office: another 490 million—holding steady!

Whether driven by the film’s marketing team or not, the internet buzzed with non-stop speculation. Sometimes the analyses were overreaching—but sometimes they nailed the director’s hidden clues. Fans treated it like a riddle contest: whoever solved it first, won.

To truly grasp this film’s meaning, a second or third viewing was a must. Thus, Zhuang Hua Luo saw a high repeat-viewing rate—netizens proudly posted proof of their second or third trips to the theater.

Riding this wave, Silent—in its final seven days—enjoyed a surprise boost at the box office.

By the end of December, Silent wrapped up its run with 3.9 billion yuan—making it the highest-grossing art film of 2044, and its score on film sites soared to an impressive 9.3.

Director Xu even called Director Liu to brag about riding the coattails of Zhuang Hua Luo. To which Director Liu scornfully replied:

[That’s all you’ve got?]

Director Xu: “$#%!#$!#!!!”

Director Liu was known for filming masterful romance plots—his past films always made relationships shine. But Zhuang Hua Luo was almost pure male-driven drama, with barely any romance. Even to the end, Kong Zhao kept addressing “Miss Sheng” coldly, showing little real affection for Sheng Xiangjun.

So fans’ eyes naturally turned to other relationships.
It had happened before: after Dark Clouds, the Cheng-Rong CP was born.

After Zhuang Hua Luo—that CP exploded. Its popularity skyrocketed past three levels—becoming Rong Xu’s #1 CP ship.

Many fans were crushed by the brutal plot and swore to quit the fandom. But nothing fuels fandom like dog-blood drama—just as everyone loves gossip. Director Liu had set the bait, and the fandom writers gleefully poured their own dog-blood into the pot.

In the Kong Zhao x Zhu Molang CP, the most classic trope was “drinking under the moon, sharing a bed.”

Of 100 fanfics, 80 used this setup. Big-name creators flooded the web with “smut cars,” and CP fans just opened their mouths and ate the endless content—ignoring the film’s tragic ending. Who cared about canon suffering when fanfiction sugar was endless?

But this wasn’t the only reason this CP rose so far above others.

No one expected this: a famously wealthy fan from Rong Xu’s fandom—Lotus Paste Orange Filling—posted on Weibo the very next day after the film released:

[#ChengRong##KongMo# Kong Zhao and the Prince went off to investigate Zhu Molang’s background for three days. Baby thinks… did Kong Zhao inspect the Crown Prince’s birthmarks? Birthmarks… ah, stripping… >///< Hmph… The Prince definitely didn’t die! With Kong Zhao there, the Prince can’t possibly be dead!]

The CP fandom couldn’t match Lotus Paste Orange Filling’s power or influence.

On the film’s second day, she even posted photos of 1,000 ticket stubs for Zhuang Hua Luo—flexing her wealth and drawing a new batch of fans to her “ditzy rich goddess” persona.

When she suggested this headcanon, major fanwriters pounced. Like angst-fics being more unforgettable than fluff, a well-spilled bucket of dog-blood drama was addictively delicious.

Kong Zhao killing the Crown Prince—knife, yes?

Yes!

But used right… it was golden dog-blood!

After the premiere, Director Liu gave the team three days off before starting the global tour. Every morning of these three days, when Rong Xu woke, he saw Qin Cheng sitting calmly by the window—reading the script.

At first, Rong Xu thought Qin Cheng was reading the script for a new film. But by chance, he happened to spot it and was surprised:
“You’re reading the Zhuang Hua Luo script?”

The youth’s astonished expression fell into the man’s calm gaze. Qin Cheng gave a steady nod, his voice deep and composed as he replied,
“Mm.”

Rong Xu: “…”

After a moment’s hesitation, Rong Xu couldn’t help but ask:
“But the film’s already been released—why are you still reading the script?”

The impossibly handsome man kept a solemn face and answered in an even tone:
“Reviewing the old to understand the new.”

Rong Xu: “…”

The real answer only dawned on Rong Xu later—when he saw Lotus Paste Orange Filling’s latest Weibo post.

So this was all about finding a new trope to make the CP even hotter. Reviewing the old to understand the new… If the sages knew you were using them as an excuse like this, they’d probably come looking for you at midnight!

[How to perfectly eat an orange: Tip #2 — I must’ve eaten a fake orange…]

But Rong Xu didn’t usually care much about his CP fandom circles. He only paid attention to the ChengRong shippers because of the Lotus Paste Orange Filling. Naturally, he didn’t know that on the very first day Zhuang Hua Luo released, plenty of CP fans had been stabbed by that poisoned blade of an ending—leaving the fandom in tears.

And could Lotus Paste Orange Filling let that stand?! Of course not! She immediately contacted a top commercial illustrator to draw a KongMo CP fanart piece. She didn’t even use the artwork for anything else—just made it her profile picture and started retweeting every bit of CP content from big fandom creators, day and night!

Rong Xu only casually scrolled through Lotus Paste Orange Filling’s Weibo—but he had no idea that she didn’t stop at retweeting. She also clicked into all those fanfics… and the spicy ones, too.

With the CP fandom queen herself this active, other fans naturally followed. Even if Zhuang Hua Luo had stabbed them with the sharpest blade, they would still work like mad to turn that knife into sugar, by any means necessary! Anything to draw fans in!

Rong Xu only knew part of this—but even with just Qin Cheng’s flimsy excuse of “reviewing the old to understand the new”, he was already beginning to doubt his worldview. Every time Lotus Paste Orange Filling posted another CP Weibo, Rong Xu would sit there, staring silently at Qin Cheng, who calmly scrolled through his phone.

Glance up—Qin Cheng’s serene face.
Glance down—Lotus Paste Orange Filling’s playful “chu~” emojis.

Rong Xu couldn’t help but feel amused, helpless… and oddly fond.

That evening, as they ate dinner, Rong Xu tentatively said,
“A lot of people online are talking about our characters in Zhuang Hua Luo. Don’t you think they’re overthinking it? It was just drinking wine… Director Liu didn’t mean anything more, right?”

Qin Cheng lowered his gaze, expression calm as always.
“Mm. I think so, too.”

Rong Xu: “…”

Like hell you do! Just this afternoon you were talking about how Kong Zhao could “inspect Zhu Molang’s birthmarks,” strip him down, and do all sorts of shameful things!!!

As time flew by and the box office stabilized on the third day, neither of them paid much more attention to Zhuang Hua Luo. They truly started to relax—watching movies together, playing video games. Loser cooked dinner; the winner got a kiss.

Though Rong Xu wasn’t very good at gaming… Qin Cheng wasn’t much better. By noon, the man had lost three rounds in a row, sighed in defeat, and got up to cook. But as he took two steps, someone tugged his left hand.

Qin Cheng turned, surprised, and looked down at his boy.

Rong Xu stood there in cozy beige loungewear, head tilted slightly up, smiling softly. His beautiful eyes curved into lovely crescents, less dazzling than Zhu Molang’s charm but far gentler. He gazed up like that for a long moment, the corners of his lips lifting:
“Qin Cheng, you’re my favorite actor.”

Eyes widening slightly, the man had no time to react before the youth added, laughing softly:
“And my favorite person.”

As the words fell, Qin Cheng’s arm was suddenly pulled down—Rong Xu leaned in and planted a bright kiss on his cheek. And as he did, he deliberately whispered:
“Chu~”

Heat rushed to Qin Cheng’s ears. Surprise flickered in his eyes as the boy spoke earnestly:
“Winner gets a kiss, right?”

Qin Cheng: “…Mm.”

Under that smiling gaze, Qin Cheng hurried into the kitchen—his pace quickening, ears burning red.

Watching him go, Rong Xu couldn’t help but smile. Unaware of it himself, the warm, radiant sunlight shone behind him, making his expression even softer.

Isn’t love all about spoiling each other?

Not just you spoiling me—I want to spoil you, too. I want to give you the best things in the world.

Their entire break passed in this simple, sweet domestic bliss. On the sixth day, after lunch, Rong Xu began packing. Though he’d soon fly to America for advance training on 3,200 Miles, he still had to join Zhuang Hua Luo for three roadshow events.

By the time he finished packing, it was already 4 p.m.—and just then, Rong Xu received a call from Luo Zhentao.

Seeing the name flash on the screen, Rong Xu raised his brows in surprise. Luo rarely called; they usually texted on WeChat for convenience. If it was a call, it probably meant something complicated—or urgent.

Could it be…

The Golden Phoenix Award nominations were supposed to be announced any day now.

Answering the call with a light chuckle, Rong Xu said,
“Brother Luo, are the Golden Phoenix nominations out?”

The line went silent for a moment. Then Luo Zhentao, holding back excitement, said quickly,
“No, Xiao Xu, the Golden Phoenix list will take another two days. It’s Yang Changzheng—you know him, right? The top composer in Huaxia, once Ling Xiao’s mentor. He just contacted me, asking if you’ve ever thought about… singing!”

---

Author’s note:
Qin Chengcheng: Wow~ ChengRong has so much sugar to eat—why haven’t you all joined the fandom yet?
Rong Rong: My man seems to have split personalities… What do I do? Waiting online—urgent!