I Forged the Myth of the Ancient Overlords
Chapter 592 - 592 Subtitles Group_1

Chapter 592: Subtitles Group_1 Chapter 592: Subtitles Group_1 Lu Ban did not engage in global-scale publicity because he believed that the theme of his film was quite unique, and the ideas it conveyed were not universally comprehensible or acceptable to people around the world.

Some creators in the world aim for their work to attract the general public as much as possible. Such creators follow two paths: one involves grasping universally human emotions that transcend nationality, ethnicity, ideology, and cultural levels to craft their work, ensuring that people from any country or background are touched when viewing these works.

The other path is to package what they believe to be correct into a form that the masses can accept, such as superhero movies that appear to be a pile of special effects and grand scenes, but in reality, they are a cultural export of individual heroism and liberalism.

Then there are creators who focus on producing works that only a small group of people can appreciate or accept. Their work is filled with nationalism and regionalism, and if one does not have a certain understanding of their cultural and creative background, it is difficult to comprehend the content.

Of course, what is national is also international. As long as the content is excellent, many people will be drawn to study these cultures, understand the creative works, and this can also be considered a form of cultural export.

Therefore, Lu Ban’s “Inheritors of the Ninth River” reflects a way of thinking closer to the old Chinese saying “cultivate oneself, put the family in order, govern the country, and then bring peace to the world.” The inheritors adhere to the philosophy of “achieving the common good when prospering,” which overseas may be regarded as prioritizing the collective over the individual, mandatory personal sacrifice, and even oppression of human rights.

In terms of cognition, Lu Ban believed that his fellow countrymen would find it easier to accept the content and complete the task more easily.

After all, his goal was not to make money but to change people’s perceptions.

However, Lu Ban’s actions clearly took many people by surprise.

Especially when he announced that the premiere of “Inheritors of the Ninth River” would only be in China, the commentary from foreign media was the loudest.

Has Lu Ban become arrogant?

His previous films not only achieved fame and fortune internationally, but at the very least, they became hugely popular. This film “Inheritors of the Ninth River” obviously should have solidified his prior status and harvested a global box office to spark a craze.

But Lu Ban did not grant foreign theaters the first-run rights, and he didn’t even create a subtitled version.

This meant that “Inheritors of the Ninth River” could only be viewed in China.

What was he doing, ignoring an obvious opportunity to make money?

Of course, the thoughts of the media journalists couldn’t change Lu Ban’s decision.

One week before the long holiday on October 1st, some foreigners began purchasing tickets to China, ready to watch the premiere in local cinemas.

Besides, they were facing another problem—that of not understanding Chinese.

Previously, when Lu Ban’s films were released abroad, they either had original sound with subtitles or were dubbed, and regardless of the quality of the translation, at least there were no difficulties with comprehension.

But with the current film, let alone English subtitles, it didn’t even have Chinese subtitles; even some Chinese viewers felt they might not understand it.

History has seen films without subtitles before, as early cinema did not have them, yet people still enjoyed themselves. At that time, the actors were very skilled, their enunciation was clear and powerful, with dramatic intonations, making listening to the dialogue a pleasure.

Nowadays, many actors lack basic articulation skills; their speech is unclear, and without subtitles, it’s really hard to understand what they are saying.

The two trailers for “Inheritors of the Ninth River,” the first one with well-enunciated and rounded tones, made viewers overlook the presence or absence of subtitles, and it wasn’t until after watching that many realized there were none.

The second trailer, with its simple and sincere quality, felt like someone next to you was earnestly telling a story—they spoke in a way that was more down-to-earth and did not require the intonation of subtitles.

Therefore, most viewers felt that subtitles would not significantly affect “Inheritors of the Ninth River.”

As for foreigners, sorry, but please learn Chinese.

In foreign forums, some translators of Lu Ban’s earlier works, who had provided subtitles for videos he uploaded online, formed a subtitling group. Members of the group planned to watch the movie as soon as it premiered and then spoil it for foreign viewers!

Stephen, a university student, was one of the members of the subtitling group.

He studied in the Chinese department at Yannan University, speaking a fairly fluent Chinese that might make others think he was from an ethnic minority. Many of the domestic reports about Lu Ban were translated into the foreign enthusiasts’ forum by him.

This time, he was given an important mission, which was to attend the premiere of “Inheritors of the Ninth River.”

Like many foreigners who came to China, Stephen was interested in Kung Fu, opera, and Yannan roast duck. After seeing the trailers for “Inheritors of the Ninth River,” Stephen fell madly in love with the movie.

In Stephen’s view, Lu Ban’s previous films had to some extent catered to the audience, whereas “Nine Streams” reflected the essence of traditional culture, and Stephen was curious about how Lu Ban was going to present these elements.

In October, on the first day of the university holiday, he had purchased his presale ticket and headed to the cinema next to the school for the early show.

The screening at ten in the morning was already sold out, and the cinema was teeming with people. Stephen even saw some people cosplaying characters from Lu Ban’s previous works; he shamelessly asked for a photo with them and was quite satisfied.

When it was time for admission, the speed at which the cinema filled up was unprecedented in Stephen’s experience.

In the past when he watched movies, many people would arrive so late that the film had already started and the first part of the plot had nearly finished. They would use their cellphones to light their way to their seats, disturbing others’ viewing experience, and if they argued over sitting in the wrong seats, that would truly ruin one’s movie-going experience.

But this time, even the advertisements hadn’t finished and the auditorium was already packed to the brim.

Stephen was very pleased.

He sent a message to the people in the subtitle group on the chat app, took a photo of the auditorium, immediately set his phone to silent, and put it in his pocket.

The auditorium was plunged into total darkness.

After the logos of several production companies flashed by, the familiar Silent Media trademark emerged, followed by a pitch-black night.

Within the night, a village appeared faintly visible.

The camera moved inside the village, where a child wearing mourning clothes knelt in front of a shrine, bowing his head to two coffins.

From a simple exchange, Stephen learned that the deceased were the child’s parents and that tonight was the seventh day after their death, the night when the spirits return.

The candles flickered; paper money was quietly burning in the fire basin, and the child knelt in front of the coffins, silent and speechless.

There was also a man wearing sunglasses standing by, seemingly pondering over the scene.

At that moment, a gust of chilly wind blew through.

The flickering candlelight wavered twice and then was extinguished.

The child raised his head to look at the snuffed candle, still emanating wisps of smoke.

From behind him came a barely audible calling of his name.

The child turned his head, and in the next moment, a hand covered his eyes.

“There are some things that are better left unseen.”

The man with sunglasses, unknowingly when, had come up to the child’s side, covered his eyes, and protected him behind his back.

Then, he spoke a few words to the empty mourning hall, suggesting that the parents should not worry and should reincarnate in peace.

After a gust of wind, the candle miraculously lit up again, brightening the mourning hall. The child didn’t understand what had happened; he looked at the man, seeking answers.

“The more you know about this world, the more misfortune you have; live your life well,” the man said.

The man patted the child’s shoulder and then walked out of the courtyard.

The camera panned up, revealing the continuous mountains under the moonlight.

Chinese calligraphy gradually sketched out the film’s title.

“Nine Streams”.

*

I’ve been getting my nucleic acid tests repeatedly these past few days and haven’t had much time to write. Please forgive me.