At 2 a.m. on September 22, a strange phenomenon occurred in cinemas across China: in every screening of The Lost City, almost all the audience members remained seated, refusing to leave!

For many big-budget films, after the movie ends and the lengthy credits roll, there’s often a brief post-credits scene—either bloopers or additional story content related to the film.

This tradition of post-credits scenes is more widely known abroad. Most Chinese audiences don’t wait through the five or six minutes of credits. Instead, as soon as the film ends and the lights come on, they get up and leave.

But in the screening rooms for The Lost City’s premiere, at least 90% of the audience stayed seated.

When the cinema cleaning staff came in and saw the audience still sitting in their seats, they scratched their heads in confusion, completely baffled as to why these viewers had suddenly and unanimously decided to wait for a post-credits scene. Little did they know, these audience members weren’t waiting for a post-credits scene—they were…

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!!! My goosebumps are out! What the hell was that ending?!”

“My hair is standing on end too! Was that Rong Rong?! Was that really Rong Rong?! So Rong Rong was the killer all along? He’s the psychotic murderer? Oh my god, I’m actually scared now. This is the first time I’ve ever found Rong Rong’s smile terrifying… I think I’m gonna have nightmares if I look at his photos for the next few days!”

“Wait, so Xue Jiazhe was the killer? Xue Jiazhe was the killer all along? I feel so unsettled right now. The more I think about it, the creepier it gets…”

In the cinema, many audience members remained in their seats, frantically discussing the shocking ending with their friends.

Some with stronger nerves quickly processed the movie’s eerie and horrifying conclusion, saying to their companions, “Alright, let’s go. Let’s get out of here.”

But their friends sat frozen in their seats, faces pale, trembling as they whispered, “I… can’t… feel… my legs…”

“…”

There were also male audience members who had accompanied their girlfriends to watch the movie, initially unimpressed by the film and unable to understand what their girlfriends saw in “Rong Rong.” But when they saw Rong Rong’s chilling smile in the final scene, they couldn’t help but exclaim, “Damn, that was cool! So psychotic! I love it!”

Their girlfriends immediately turned to stare at them in horror.

Meanwhile, some of the braver Rong Rong fans, though initially terrified, gradually began to feel a strange sense of excitement. Their eyes sparkled as they whispered excitedly, “Rong Rong looks so hot when he’s psychotic!!!”

Still, no matter how spine-chilling the film’s ending was, after four or five minutes of credits, most people began to recover. Those who were easily frightened leaned on their friends for support as they left, while the bolder ones walked out on their own.

But just as they reached the aisle, the screen suddenly changed again—the credits had finished, and now, the post-credits scene began.

It showed an earthquake. A delicate, doll-like little boy ran in terror toward the exit of a collapsing house, his father reaching out to grab him. Just as the father was about to take the boy’s hand, a massive boulder crashed down half a meter away. The father hesitated for a split second—then turned and fled, abandoning his son to save himself.

On screen, the moment the father turned to escape was stretched into an agonizing slow motion.

The child stared blankly at his father’s retreating figure, too innocent to comprehend what had just happened. Meanwhile, the boy’s mother screamed in rage, cursing the heartless man as a “monster,” before throwing herself over her son, shielding him from a falling beam.

The screen darkened again, cutting to over twenty years later, where the now-grown boy—the refined and scholarly Professor Xue Jiazhe—sat in his study, sipping coffee as he gazed at a photograph on his desk.

The photo showed a gentle, kind-faced woman in her fifties, her face lined with wrinkles but still beautiful. Her body was visibly disabled, yet she smiled warmly, radiating optimism. Beside her stood a younger Xue Jiazhe, glaring coldly at the camera, expressionless.

A pale, slender hand reached out and abruptly flipped the photo face-down on the desk. The man stood and walked toward the door, revealing the full scope of his study as he left.

This scene sent another wave of chills down the spines of the audience, freezing them in place once more.

Covering the walls of the study were countless photographs—each one depicting a different man, some as young as their twenties, others as old as their seventies or eighties. A handful of these photos had darts embedded in them, piercing through the faces.

Xue Jiazhe reached the door, turned the handle, and stepped out.

But just as the door was about to close, a dart suddenly flew across the screen—thunk!—embedding itself into one of the photos. The dart obscured most of the man’s face, leaving only half of his lips visible.

The man in the photo was smiling—a bright, sunny smile that felt eerily familiar.

With that, the screen went completely black. The post-credits scene was over.

As for the audience members who had stayed to witness it?

They were all: “QAQ!!!!”

After the midnight screenings, The Lost City immediately sparked heated discussions online.

At this moment, the film’s cast and crew were still at the Grand Theatre in City S, engaging in a final Q&A with the media and audience. But it was clear that after watching the movie, the journalists’ questions had shifted.

First, their inquiries were now entirely focused on the film itself, with no more gossipy questions about the actors or director. Second… their voices inexplicably carried a slight tremble.

…Can you blame them?! Watching a horror movie in the dead of night—without even being warned it was a horror movie—would leave anyone shaken!!!

Regardless, the premiere was a resounding success. Seeing the audience’s reaction, Director Yuan nodded in satisfaction.

Given how late it was, the crew dispersed after the event. Before parting ways, Director Yuan smugly told Rong Xu and Bai Xiwen, “The audience couldn’t stop talking about the movie on their way out. Looks like we’ve got a hit on our hands. I bet we’ll be seeing each other again soon—for the box office celebration when we break 100 million!”

But in reality, Director Yuan’s prediction fell short this time.

For Lost City, 100 million was just the beginning.

On September 22, The Lost City’s opening day, the film surpassed 100 million by 1 p.m.

By midnight, when the first day’s screenings concluded, The Lost City had raked in a staggering 310 million at the box office!

Many moviegoers hadn’t attended the midnight or early morning screenings. They’d slept soundly, having already booked tickets for later showings. But when they woke up and checked forums, social media, and film review sites, they found the entire internet buzzing about The Lost City!

[I thought this was just a standard crime thriller, but that twist at the end left me weak in the knees.]

[Overall, the film doesn’t break much new ground—aside from the final twist, which ties up several earlier clues. But as a commercial film, it’s excellent. 9/10, highly recommended!]

[I only went for the eye candy—Rong Xu and Bai Xiwen are both ridiculously handsome. But somehow, I ended up terrified by a movie with no ghosts?! That said… Rong Xu’s smile at the end was the hottest thing ever. Easily his best moment in the whole film.]

Moviegoers these days are generally considerate about spoilers. Whether writing short impressions or lengthy reviews, they always warn readers upfront if spoilers are included, so no one gets blindsided.

But this time… with everyone hyping up the film’s twist so intensely, curiosity got the better of netizens. They couldn’t resist the urge to seek out spoilers.

Like most, Xing Xiaoxiao caved after seeing her group chats flooded with terrified reactions to The Lost City. She immediately searched for spoilers.

“Oh, so that’s what happens? Hahaha, now I’m even more excited! I have to see this legendary ‘psycho Rong Rong smile’ for myself!”

Two hours later—

Xing Xiaoxiao: “…Mom, my legs feel like jelly. Can you help me up?”

Her mother, equally shaken: “…Sweetie, I’m not doing so great either. Maybe we should sit here a little longer.”

Online, many professional film critics analyze movies as they watch, allowing them to publish detailed breakdowns afterward, revealing hidden layers and deeper meanings for general audiences.

But this time, quite a few critics didn’t post their reviews immediately.

Normally, critiques from major reviewers should appear on film sites right after midnight screenings. Yet this time, over a dozen prominent critics only gave a rating without any commentary, leaving their followers puzzled.

It wasn’t until another round of screenings ended, and an hour or two had passed, that the reviews finally surfaced.

A Film You Need to Watch Twice to Fully Understand—The Lost City

City of Confusion, City of Deception, City of The Lost Souls

The Lost City: This Movie Is a Trap—And the Audience Is the Prey

**[I was invited by the film crew to attend the premiere and watch *Lost City* in person.

In terms of editing and pacing, it’s classic Yuan Ke—consistent with his usual standards. This time, however, he’s made significant strides in color grading and composition. Dark-toned cinematography is notoriously difficult to execute, yet whether it’s the opening scene of the suitcase disposal or the subsequent rainy-night chases, Yuan Ke masterfully crafts visuals that evoke unease without overwhelming the viewer.

As for filming techniques, he…

…

Returning to the story itself.

Lost City is, at its core, a straightforward crime thriller. The only twist that truly disorients the audience is how the film initially frames the perpetrator as a protagonist, planting the subconscious assumption that “since this is a hero, they couldn’t possibly be the killer.”

Strip away this misdirection, and every piece of evidence in the film actually points squarely to one of the male leads: Xue Jiazhe.

In mystery novels, there’s a subgenre known as the “unreliable narrator.” In these stories, the first-person “I” is often the culprit—Agatha Christie’s The Murder of Roger Ackroyd and Ayatsuji Yukito’s The Decagon House Murders are prime examples. Readers rarely suspect the narrator, making this a brilliantly deceptive narrative style.

Lost City employs the same tactic.

Early on, the second male lead, Tan Yangxuan, mentions that his old classmate had a traumatic childhood—a deliberate setup. Later, Xue Jiazhe himself sketches a psychological profile of the killer, one that bears an uncanny resemblance… to himself.

…

Finally, the acting is where the film truly shines.

Both male leads transition seamlessly between their roles. Whether it’s Rong Xu or Bai Xiwen, their performances are outstanding. Particularly Rong Xu’s portrayal of Xue Jiazhe—having seen Black Clouds, I can confidently say Rong Xu possesses a rare versatility. He adapts effortlessly to diverse roles while retaining his unique essence.

Ling Xiao and Xue Jiazhe are polar opposites, yet both are brought to life by Rong Xu.

These characters carry his signature, yet audiences never conflate them with the actor himself.

…

9/10, highly recommended. Lost City is the first must-watch—and must-rewatch—commercial thriller of the season.]

Reviews like this were everywhere. While some critics pointed out flaws in Yuan Ke’s visual execution or argued that the unreliable-narrator twist could’ve been subtler, they unanimously agreed: Lost City is a cinematic experience worth having.

On its opening day, the film boasted an average rating of 9.1 across major review platforms!

For general audiences, a “good movie” typically falls into one of three categories:

1. Laugh-out-loud comedies (holiday crowd-pleasers).
2. Visually spectacular blockbusters (think jaw-dropping action or CGI).
3. Narratively masterful films.

Heart-wrenching dramas often linger longer than comedies—if a movie can make an entire theater cry, it’s usually destined for classic status. Similarly, if it can leave audiences spine-chilled, it’s equally unforgettable.

Lost City’s reception split dramatically.

Most viewers raved about it, vowing to rewatch it to uncover hidden clues:
[Now that I know the twist, the director won’t fool me twice! I’m going back to spot all the foreshadowing I missed—why was Xue Jiazhe the killer all along?!]

A small but vocal minority, however, despised it:
[What garbage? The hero’s the villain? Who could’ve guessed that? This is a cheap trick!]
[Total waste of two hours. Pretentious nonsense!]

The marketing team soon identified trolls among the low ratings, but genuine dislike existed too. After all, no film pleases everyone.

Take The Big Ship, for example—a decades-old romance that catapulted its blonde, blue-eyed lead to global fame and broke box-office records. Yet even that was dismissed by some as schmalty melodrama.

Director Yuan, though, wasn’t greedy. Regardless of mixed reviews, Lost City’s box-office numbers thrilled him.

True to his word, a victory banquet was held opening night. Rong Xu, Bai Xiwen, Ren Shuzhi, and other key players attended, swarmed by press.

For days, the film’s official account posted celebratory updates:

• *[6 billion milestone! What’s your favorite *Lost City* moment? [photo]]*
• [BTS footage unlocked—10 billion! [applause][photo]]
• [Deleted scenes drop at 15 billion! ]

Promotions continued even after release. The cast embarked on a roadshow, drawing crowds now invested in the story as much as the stars.

The film’s success elevated its cast:

• Ren Shuzhi, who’d taken a pay cut for her supporting-but-crucial role, now had a bona fide hit under her belt.
• Rong Xu and Bai Xiwen reaped even greater rewards.

Eagle-eyed fans dissected the post-credits scene:
[That dart-pierced photo in the study—wasn’t that Tan Yangxuan?! Does this mean Xue Jiazhe would’ve killed him next? Is there a sequel coming?]

At a Q&A, Director Yuan grinned:
*“No plans yet—my next project’s an action film. But if we ever do *Lost City 2, we’ll need our stars’ schedules to align!”

The host promptly nudged Rong Xu and Bai Xiwen:
“Would you two reunite for a sequel?”

Bai Xiwen: “If Director Yuan calls, I’m in.”
Rong Yu, smiling: “Same here. Don’t forget me, Director.”

Yuan Ke chuckled, turning to Ren Shuzhi:
“At this rate, we should just leave the stage to them!”

The crowd erupted—especially the fans chanting:
“TAN XUE! TAN XUE! TAN XUE!”

Rong Xu glanced at the director, amused but silent.