The indoor air conditioning was running at full blast, making the room feel somewhat chilly. Outside the window, the world was draped in pitch black, and the clock on the wall pointed to ten in the evening. The room wasn't small, but it felt a bit cramped holding over a dozen people and various pieces of equipment; it was just enough to manage. Three cameras were all trained on Zhang Jin’an, who sat upright on a sofa against the wall in the center of the room.
Since this was the final interview of the day, Zhang Jin’an was wearing his own clothes: an almond-colored trench coat over a white short-sleeved tee and blue ripped jeans. The mousse had been washed out of his hair, and after being blown dry, his bangs rested naturally and softly against his forehead. Looking at his styling alone, he truly appeared to be in his early twenties, a world apart from the man on the poster behind him—the one wearing glasses with a face full of solemnity.
The reporter sat beside the camera, asking Zhang Jin’an a series of questions. The surrounding staff members were very disciplined; they remained silent when they weren't supposed to speak, and if something urgent came up, they would tap each other on the shoulder and pull them to the doorway of the adjacent lounge to talk. The lounge entrance wasn't actually far from Zhang Jin’an, and if their voices were a bit too loud, they would be picked up by the recording. However, post-production could filter out the noise, making it virtually inaudible, so they could speak normally there.
As the hour-long interview neared its end, Li Qiang and Xiao Zhou emerged from the lounge and stood by the door, waiting for them to finish.
Xiao Zhou, clutching his jacket, spoke to Li Qiang, who was closely monitoring Zhang Jin’an’s every word and gesture. "Is this interview the last one for today?"
Li Qiang was multitasking, his eyes never leaving Zhang Jin’an as he listened intently to his words. He gave a perfunctory "Mm" in response. "There are a few more tomorrow. The schedule is tight and the workload is heavy. Look, he hasn't even had time to finish his water." Li Qiang shook the half-bottle of Nongfu Spring in his hand.
"Sigh, the hype for the last TV drama hasn't even died down, and now this movie is picking up. Big Brother is probably going to run his legs off these next few days," Xiao Zhou lamented.
"More than just a few days," Li Qiang finally glanced at Xiao Zhou. "Even before *Equal Difference* was released, many familiar program crews had booked interviews. Now that it's out and has this much buzz on the first day, several more interviews have been added. Then there are brand events and new brand signings. Luckily, Jin’an only has one variety show, *Friday Morning*, at the moment. If he starts taking on more variety shows later, those could drag on for a long time. Once all that's done, *Hidden Shadows* will start filming..."
"Don't say anymore," Xiao Zhou interrupted quickly, fearing Li Qiang would keep going until the interview ended. He signaled that he understood. "I get it. It’s going to be just like 2014—scheduled to be busy as a dog."
"Yeah, pretty much like 2014," Li Qiang nodded. "Though back then we were all nearly dead, yet Zhang Jin’an never once fell ill. It was quite a miracle."
Ever since Zhang Jin’an won Best Actor in 2011, he hadn't stopped. The latter half of 2014 was collectively recognized by them as the busiest six months, so busy they thought they were about to ride off on a crane to the afterlife. One could imagine how strong Zhang Jin’an’s physical constitution was back then.
"I suspect Southerners have particularly good endurance," Xiao Zhou said. "I had a college classmate who was a total shut-in, skinny as a rail, but he never got sick all year round. He didn't even need to wear long johns in the dead of winter—and my college was in the South."
Being healthy was one thing, but the mention of not needing long johns—especially in the damp cold of the South—immediately earned Li Qiang’s admiration. "Now that really is impressive."
Xiao Zhou: "You bet."
Li Qiang: "Hey, I remember your heater broke during that half-year, didn't it? You managed to survive a whole winter like that; you're pretty impressive too."
"Ha, that? I wasn't the impressive one," Xiao Zhou smiled. "It was all thanks to Big Brother. The day after my heater broke, I told him about it, and he immediately found someone to reinstall the radiator for me. That's the only reason I survived..."
The two of them chatted back and forth, having long since cast the original topic to the back of their minds. If Zhang Jin’an had heard them, he would have definitely said "what on earth" and then joined in to derail the conversation further. Unfortunately, Zhang Jin’an was listening intently to the reporter's questions, completely unaware of what was happening over there.
Because the movie's theme was school violence—a work reflecting realistic issues—the interview topics for almost every program revolved around that theme, making the atmosphere somewhat serious. Fortunately, the reporter for this final outlet was a young woman around Zhang Jin’an’s age. Compared to the previous two, her interview content was more youth-oriented, often incorporating internet slang and trends. This suited Zhang Jin’an’s taste, so he was much more relaxed than before, his expressions and movements becoming more natural.
"Following the perfect conclusion of *I Only Want You to Look at Me*, the box office for *Equal Difference* exceeded seventy million on its first day. The outside world says that whatever Big Brother acts in becomes a hit," the reporter said.
Zhang Jin’an crossed his hands, resting them between his joined thighs. "That’s an exaggeration. It’s not the credit of one person; I’m just fortunate enough to be remembered by everyone. The success of these projects is inseparable from the various teachers I acted with, the directors, the screenwriters, and everyone behind the scenes. I’m just basking in their light."
"This interview will be released tomorrow. Could Big Brother say a few words to the friends who haven't seen *Equal Difference* yet—something to promote the movie?" the reporter asked.
"I think I promoted it at the very beginning, so I won't repeat myself. I'll have to trouble the editors to rewind and play that part again," Zhang Jin’an said with a smile to the camera.
Not only was the reporter amused, but the surrounding staff also chuckled. These laughs would likely be included in the program.
After she finished laughing, the reporter continued, "I wonder if Big Brother knows that a certain candid video of you is very popular? The one where you're constantly rattling off jingles and rhymes."
"I know, I saw it." Zhang Jin’an knew what the reporter wanted and shook his head. "But I won't be doing that here."
The reporter didn't panic, as if Zhang Jin’an’s refusal was exactly what was in her script.
She gave a sly smile. "Isn't Big Brother known as 'The Always Obliging'? Then you naturally have to do this, right?"
Zhang Jin’an was taken aback. This "Always Obliging" meme was similar in origin to "Tough Man's Tenderness"—neither were official titles, but rather terms coined by netizens. Because Zhang Jin’an would answer whatever reporters or the audience asked and fulfill any requests, clever fans naturally noticed this and immediately created a super-topic called #AlwaysObligingZhangJinan#, posting various compilations. From then on, whenever Zhang Jin’an had an interaction, there would always be top comments featuring those four words.
Zhang Jin’an hadn't expected this reporter to know him to this extent. It seemed her earlier mention of having a friend who was his fan wasn't just polite small talk—that friend was probably herself.
But for every policy, there was a countermeasure. Without a hint of hesitation, Zhang Jin’an smiled at the camera. "If I do it, won't that just solidify my 'goofy' persona? So, I'm not saying it."
After the interview recording ended, Zhang Jin’an followed his usual routine of saying goodbye to all the staff before walking to the lounge.
Li Qiang patted Zhang Jin’an on the shoulder and handed him the water. Zhang Jin’an unscrewed the cap, tilted his head back, and finished it in one go.
Xiao Zhou said from the side, "Good work."
"It's fine, it was just mental work, not physical labor," Zhang Jin’an said, tossing the empty bottle into a nearby trash can.
Xiao Zhou asked in confusion, "Why don't you memorize a script, Big Brother? Wouldn't that be easier?"
"This is more interesting, isn't it?" Zhang Jin’an replied simply.
Zhang Jin’an never liked using scripts for interviews. First, he felt that scripted words could be repetitive, and the audience could tell at a glance if you were just reciting. Second, it was a personal habit; aside from TV dramas or specific settings where he had to act and memorize lines, he didn't want to memorize scripts at other times. He didn't like acting every single day. The third point was simply that he was lazy.
"Mental work is more exhausting than physical labor," Li Qiang, who had known the truth for a long time, said to Zhang Jin’an. "Let me tell you some more good news: as of ten o'clock, the box office for *Equal Difference* has gone up by another million."
"Really?" Zhang Jin’an’s expression was one of genuine shock. Li Qiang thought he was marveling at the movie's popularity, only to hear him ask in bewilderment: "Don't they sleep at this hour?"
? *That's* the point?
Li Qiang didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "You have the nerve to talk about them? Do you usually sleep at this hour?"
"True," Zhang Jin’an began to mutter thoughtfully. "In that case, there might be quite a few people at his screening too. He still bought his ticket too early."
"He? Who?" Xiao Zhou asked.
"Oh, Siyang," Zhang Jin’an explained to Xiao Zhou and Li Qiang. "He told me he bought a ticket for the nine o'clock show, thinking there would be fewer people at that time."
"Oh, he went to see it too?" Li Qiang considered. "In the past, there would be fewer people at that time, especially on a workday. But it's summer break now, and with a movie this popular, I'm afraid there will still be plenty of people even at ten-thirty."
Li Qiang was right; there were indeed quite a few people at ten-thirty. At the very least, when Jiang Siyang watched the movie, the seats in front, behind, and in the middle were all filled. Fortunately, Jiang Siyang hadn't reached Zhang Jin’an’s level of fame yet; wearing a hat and sitting in the corner with his assistant, no one recognized him.
This was the first movie starring Zhang Jin’an that Jiang Siyang had seen since meeting him in real life, so he watched with exceptional focus and immersion. He had worried that because they knew each other, he might feel pulled out of the story. But as he watched, Jiang Siyang realized he had overthought it.
He didn't feel pulled out of the story at all, because Zhang Jin’an’s acting was simply too good; he truly became whatever character he played. Jiang Siyang even felt that the protagonist Zhang Jin’an played in the movie was just a brother who looked very similar to Zhang Jin’an, and that this brother simply lived his life that way.
The movie told a story of how differential treatment by some teachers led to frequent incidents of violence in certain corners of the school. However, because these students were too clever—acting one way to people's faces and another behind their backs—many incidents ended without resolution. Tang Junyuan’s class had originally been "harmonious," but with the arrival of a transfer student on November 24, 2004, the scales of this harmony finally tipped. This transfer student had a congenital disability but excellent grades, leading in everything except PE. Yet, because of that one disability, he immediately became prey for the "hyenas." Tang Junyuan noticed the changes in the transfer student and began an in-depth investigation. During this time, he met the transfer student’s older sister, Chen Juan (played by Gu Yirou). The two investigated together, but they never expected to uncover more and more secrets.
The early parts of school life were calm and realistic, with several humorous moments that drew roars of laughter. Xie Jie laughed so hard he nearly fell to the floor, tossing out several quips.
But as the story progressed, it became increasingly heavy. Everyone watched intently; not a single person spoke in the theater. There were only a few coughs, which quickly subsided.
Jiang Siyang, naturally, went without saying. He was serious from beginning to end. He knew there would usually be a twist, so he followed the protagonist in ruling out suspects one by one. But when the mastermind behind the scenes finally surfaced, it wasn't just him—likely many people hadn't expected it. The theater was suddenly filled with the sound of collective gasps.
The mastermind was none other than the transfer student’s only friend. This person had long since become the "leader" of the class, holding some degree of leverage over everyone. But because he only incited others and there was no physical evidence, Tang Junyuan could only watch helplessly as the student gave him a contemptuous smile: "Teacher, can I go now?"
This was Tang Junyuan’s first setback and the turning point of the movie. This segment was crucial, and Zhang Jin’an performed it brilliantly. From the initial panicked expression of disbelief to the unventable rage after learning the truth, Zhang Jin’an handled it with perfect precision, never overacting. It wasn't just the protagonist who felt the pain; the audience felt it too.
"This part is truly incredible," Xie Jie whispered.
Yes, it really was incredible. Jiang Siyang didn't make a sound, fearing his voice would disturb the current tense mood, but he agreed wholeheartedly in his mind.
Whether it was the actor playing that student, the transfer student, or Gu Yirou—every actor in this movie gave a performance that was neither too much nor too little. Everything was just right.
One had to admit the director was brilliant at casting. That student clearly made one's teeth itch with hatred, yet seeing his young face, one couldn't help but reflect—young people are blank sheets of paper; who was it that painted such colors upon them?
Of course, the one Jiang Siyang wanted to praise most was naturally Zhang Jin’an.
This movie was different from other school violence films; it was a rare story told from the perspective of a teacher.
The difference between a teacher and a student lies in being more mature and rational, possessing life experiences they lack. Usually, school movies treat teachers as supporting characters, not filming their lives, habits, or personalities. But as the protagonist, these things naturally had to be included, which was the difficulty. The movie's scenes were mainly set in the school, so Zhang Jin’an had to use details to show what kind of person Tang Junyuan was.
Language, body movements, even a tiny gesture could build a character.
During the film, Jiang Siyang couldn't help but say to Xie Jie beside him, "Did you see that? He just curled his finger."
Xie Jie asked blankly, "Huh? Where? What finger? You're looking way too closely at the details."
At the end of the movie, Tang Junyuan stood on the school's podium. After a burst of static, he spoke into the microphone to the teachers and students standing on the playground.
It was impassioned, stirring hope in everyone's hearts, as if a ray of dawn had appeared amidst the yellowish tint and gloomy weather.
"I believe that the focus of teaching and educating people is not just on teaching books, but also on educating a person's character. A child's character is not innate; it is added later, influenced by family, school, and society. Perhaps in everyone's eyes, it is just a small matter, but to the victim, it is a major event." Tang Junyuan spoke slowly, sentence by sentence, his pace quickening and his tone growing heavier as he went on. His expression gradually became serious, his handsome brows furrowing. "Before a snowflake falls, it never believes it is at fault. School violence is never the straw that breaks the camel's back. It is the lack of help, the lack of companionship, and the lack of trust that is. What a teacher should do is handle the matter, not say to the student, 'Flies don't sting eggs without cracks; it's a problem with you, the egg.'" As he spoke, Tang Junyuan looked toward a female teacher below the stage. That teacher’s eyes darted away in panic.
These words were immensely satisfying. One audience member couldn't help but shout "Bravo," but no one scolded him.
This line was a callback to the beginning of the movie, something this female teacher had said in the office while dealing with a fight in their class. At the time, she had said indifferently to the student who had been beaten and injured: "Flies don't sting eggs without cracks. There was a problem with you first, so they came looking for you. Otherwise, why didn't they go looking for someone else?"
Those words resonated too strongly with everyone. Many people had hissed in disapproval while watching. Jiang Siyang had also heard Xie Jie say, "I spit on this woman."
So, when Tang Junyuan slapped this female teacher's face in public at the end, how could everyone not feel gratified?
"I hope that kindness is not used as a shackle for good people..." Tang Junyuan continued, while the camera panned across the students who had appeared before.
Under this voiceover, Jiang Siyang recalled a film review he had seen years ago when he first watched *Bright Fire*. It was a review posted on the day *Bright Fire* was released, hundreds of words long. After so many years, there was a passage he remembered very clearly—
"In *The Best World*, his voice was powerful but still green. But in this film, I feel as if I am seeing a different person. Zhang Jin’an’s voice possesses a piercing quality that others lack; he firmly grasps people's hearts, making it impossible for them to resist listening to what he has to say. I can't help but wonder, in just a short six months, how much rehearsal he did, how many times he performed, to make his voice become like this and his command of lines so strong. If he maintains this attitude and this acting skill in the future, I predict he will surely have a limitless future, and becoming Best Actor is just a matter of time."
More than just a limitless future, it would surely be a path of brilliant starlight, accompanied by the sun and the moon.
***
