On June 11, Unsinkable premiered simultaneously in thirty-six countries worldwide.
The timing couldn't have been better. It landed right in China's summer holiday season, when the domestic market was flooded with low-quality films. Many Chinese productions just counted on "Domestic Film Protection Month" to squeeze some money out of audiences, so theaters were desperate for a proper Hollywood blockbuster.
"A Hollywood blockbuster premiering in June is rare. I'm really looking forward to it, I just hope it won't flop," said Ying Chengfeng, one of the invited guests at the premiere. He was a well-known film scholar, having even helped compile textbooks for the performance and dubbing departments at both the Central Academy of Drama and the Beijing Film Academy.
"The outlook's not so great." Ye Linfan shook his head. "Forget that it's directed by Cameron, who's more known for sci-fi. Just look at that tagline about an 'epic love story of the last century' and you'll see why I'm worried."
Ye Linfan was a famous screenwriter, especially skilled at adapting novels into scripts. That alone got him an invitation. Ying Chengfeng's influence lay in film theory, while Ye Linfan's talent was turning literature into something that worked on screen.
Film and novels were two different art forms. A great novel didn't automatically make a great movie if you just copied the plot. Ye Linfan's gift was keeping the novel's literary feel while aligning it with the language of the camera.
"Of course, the domestic box office won't be low," Ye Linfan added. "Correction, the Asian box office won't be low. Chu Zhi's pull is too strong, and Shiyi Lan already proved that."
"No one doubts Chu Zhi's star power, just like no one doubts Ge Zongfeng's acting," Ying Chengfeng said. "If Chu Zhi weren't starring, this film never would've been slotted into Domestic Protection Month."
The premiere in China was held at the Stellar Cineplex in Zhuozhan Times Mall, Wukesong, in a giant 3D hall that could seat six hundred guests. The theater's owner knew what he was doing, covering the place with posters. Life-sized cutouts of the male and female leads were even set up right outside.
Naturally, the number of cutouts told the story. Six for the male lead, only two for the female. Still, the public's manners were decent. No crazed fans were carrying them off like you'd see in Japan.
Inside, hundreds of guests gathered, from critics and journalists to actors and industry bigshots. In the very first row sat Kang Pei, chairman of China Film Group. Everyone knew there was only one way for foreign films to hit Chinese theaters: through China Film. Unsinkable was no exception.
Foreigners had once said Kang Pei's position was like combining the president of the MPAA, the CEO of Disney, and director Arnold—the highest-grossing director in the world—into one person. That said everything about his influence.
As stars entered the hall, every single one made sure to greet him. Even heavyweights like Ge Zongfeng, You Quan, Zhang Li, and Zhang Ning all respectfully called him Chairman Kang.
Kang Pei didn't even need to stand up. It wasn't arrogance, just practicality. If he stood for everyone, he'd never sit down again. Nobody thought it improper anyway.
"Fifth Brother, didn't expect to see you here." Wang Anyi smiled.
"Oh? I didn't think Consultant Chu could invite you too. Aren't you filming in Dunhuang?" Kang Pei asked. He knew very well what it meant for Chu Zhi to join the State Council's Advisory Office, so even his words carried respect.
"I gave the crew a day off. Xiao Chu's a hardworking junior, so I came to support him." Wang Anyi didn't just show up herself—she'd even brought the lead actors from her new Dunhuang film to boost the premiere.
All of them were veteran actors or household names.
With some time left before the screening, the guests broke into small groups.
"Chu Zhi doesn't even mix in the film circle, but his connections are this wide?" sighed Xiao Wu, a hot-topic reporter.
"That's not surprising," said Lao Chen from Sina News. "After I Close My Eyes, Shiyi Lang, and My Love From the Star. Only two films and one drama, sure, but those achievements are more than most actors get in a lifetime. Besides, with his current fame, there's no such thing as boundaries between music and film circles."
"Brilliantly said, old man!" Xiao Wu gave him a thumbs up.
Their chat got cut off by a stir—because the "host" had arrived.
"Chairman Kang, Aunt Wang," Chu Zhi greeted as he walked in.
"Kid, did time stop for you? You look exactly the same as years ago." Wang Anyi almost ruffled his hair but stopped herself. "Meanwhile I just checked the mirror today and found more gray hairs. I'm really getting old."
"No need for all the formal titles. If you like, call me Uncle Kang," Kang Pei said with surprising warmth, almost overly so.
"You've filmed three movies in the past two years, Aunt Wang. That's more energy than the young ones," Chu Zhi smiled. "Uncle Kang, of course I'm glad to call you that."
"Hollywood's system is the best in the world for commercial films. But starring in a blockbuster isn't easy, especially since you haven't done movies in so long," Wang Anyi said. "It's a two-hundred-million-dollar production. The global box office has to hit six hundred million just to break even. Good thing your main career is music. Even if the film tanks, it won't hurt you."
"If it fails, you'll pull me up again, won't you, Aunt Wang?" Chu Zhi grinned, following her lead.
The Emperor Beast knew her personality well. Wang Anyi had a sharp tongue, but what she really meant was, if the film underperformed, Chu Zhi could lie low for a while and then take on a major role in a film aimed at the European big three festivals.
"Talking about failure before the movie even premieres? Bad omen." Kang Pei chuckled. "So tell me, Xiao Chu, how much do you think it'll make in China?"
The domestic box office record in this parallel world belonged to a main-theme film, nearly six billion yuan.
Breaking that was impossible, and he didn't want a Hollywood movie to steal that record from a patriotic one anyway.
"Director Cameron's a master at stirring emotions. I think it'll do well," Chu Zhi said.
He was in his element, chatting smoothly with the older generation. The Emperor Beast really was a social king.
Afterward he made rounds greeting Zhang Li, You Quan, and other friends.
Reporters were tactful enough not to crowd him.
"Enviable, isn't it? He's got hits in music, film, and TV. Especially his songs and movies."
"Captain, I've got something to ask. My friend's daughter—just my friend's daughter, not some secret kid of mine—she's a diehard fan. She's tried the Orange Fan Festival lottery for years and never won. Can you save her a spot?"
"I'm fragile these days, can't handle tragedies. Xiao Jiu, just tell me, Unsinkable doesn't end sadly, right?"
"If it does, I'll still take my family, but only once. If it doesn't, I'll watch again, add to the box office."
If it'd been anyone else, Chu Zhi would've thought they were making things up. But since it was Min Jeongbae, maybe not. He loved to say misleading stuff just to make people laugh.
Sure enough, his words got people chuckling. Some even teased him about making things up. Chu Zhi noticed the flash of satisfaction in his eyes.
Was it sad to spend all your energy on entertaining others? Chu Zhi didn't think so. It was like his own love for performing. Doing what mattered most in life, over and over, was happiness enough.
"The Fan Festival spots can't be saved. They're random draws, all of them. But since it's you, Brother Min, how about this—I'll keep a concert ticket for you next time," Chu Zhi said.
Min Jeongbae gave him a big thumbs up. "Captain, you really do grant every wish!"
"Sister Ning, don't worry," Chu Zhi told Zhang Ning, who'd said she was fragile. "Unsinkable has a beautiful ending. The leads love each other, they go through some hardships, but in the end the heroine gets her happy life."
"Then I'm relieved." Zhang Ning nodded.
"You Quan, bringing your family for one watch isn't enough. With our friendship, isn't this worth three, four, five viewings?"
…
At 4:50 p.m., Chu Zhi stepped onto the stage. Against the massive screen, he looked almost small.
The director wasn't there, and producer Qin Fei wasn't famous enough to give a speech. So the task fell to him.
"Honestly, there's not much to say. Thanks for making time to come to the premiere. I hope the film won't disappoint you," he said, then stepped down.
It was so brief the guests didn't even react right away, and the applause came a beat late.
But that was Chu Zhi. Even at company meetings, he only spoke in short, simple bursts. Why drag it out? Everyone was there for the movie, not his speech. Better to just roll the film.
The lights dimmed. The dragon logo appeared. The story began with divers salvaging the wreck of the Titanic…
Meanwhile, the internet was buzzing with news about him—not about the movie, but about something else.
A few weeks ago, Douban had launched a "Top 100 Chinese Albums of the Decade, 2015–2025" campaign. Backed by the China Record Corporation, the China Audio-Video Publishing House, and the Chinese Musicians Association, it was fully official. The final winners would even be recognized by the Copyright Bureau as "Top 100 Excellent Works."
A hundred albums sounded like a lot, but stretched over ten years, it meant only ten per year. Competition was fierce.
Voting had two types: encouragement votes and professional votes. Every account got three encouragement votes. Professional votes came from a hundred critics and producers invited by Douban. If an album didn't earn enough professional votes, no matter how high the encouragement votes, it couldn't make the list.
The rule was meant to block traffic idols with weak albums but massive fanbases. Naturally, it infuriated fandoms, who attacked the campaign nonstop.
Even many Little Fruits were unhappy, because 25,117 Possibilities and Little Fruits Are Sweet both failed to make the list due to lack of professional votes. To be fair, Little Fruits Are Sweet was strong enough in quality. The unspoken reason was probably that it had several foreign-language tracks.
It was a good thing Chu Zhi had three albums make it into the Top 100. He was one of only two singers to achieve that, the other being Zheng Huo, who'd retired just two years ago yet still proved his staying power.
[Chu Ci · Ode to the Orange Tree
Singer: Chu Zhi
Producer: Chu Zhi
Support Votes: 1,917,650
Expert Votes: 92
Music critics' comment: "What's there to say? This was the album that opened the era of New Chinese Style music. Tracks like Faraway, Chrysanthemum Terrace, A Dream of Swords got countless people hooked on repeat. Songs like Back to the Tang Dynasty, Compendium of Materia Medica, New Drunken Concubine pushed the genre's boundaries. Chu Zhi's place in the music world was cemented with this album."
Fan review excerpt: "All twelve tracks are my favorites. This album's divine, no doubt about it!"]
Douban's Top 100 list didn't rank albums, which was a smart design, but if fans insisted on sorting by votes, Chu Zhi took both first and second place.
Big names like Lin Xia, Li Fei, Su Yiwu, and Lin Weiran—whether once top-tier idols or still riding the wave—couldn't get a single album in. Every one of them fell short of the 55 expert votes needed.
Wu Xi, who used to hate Chu Zhi but later considered him a kindred spirit (he was the first singer Chu Zhi eliminated years ago on I Am a Singer), had a rock album make the cut.
Then there were the two most famous soul artists in China, Yang Guiyun and Jiang Zengyue. Both had albums enter the list. Jiang went even further, landing one soul album and one folk album.
Jiang Zengyue was one of the "Three Melons" alongside Chu Zhi, known as a musical prodigy after their performance in Retracing the Long March. Balancing both soul and folk, she was a powerhouse.
Talking about folk meant mentioning the "little prince of folk," Gu Peng, who'd been exposed just last month for using a smurf account. He didn't get a single album on the list. Netizens called it Douban's biggest regret… but honestly, his career spanned over a dozen albums, all consistently good, which split the votes too much.
Still, Gu Peng didn't let it bother him. The guy was chill. His life motto was, "If I get it, great. If I don't, well, sour grapes." In the end, only a handful of post-90s artists made the Top 100 anyway. He was technically a post-80s baby, but since he was born in 1987, he liked to round up and claim he was post-90s.
[Chu Ci · Nine Songs
Singer: Chu Zhi
Producer: Chu Zhi
Support Votes: 2,274,351
Expert Votes: 97
Music critics' comment: "A lot of platforms summed this up as #The Milestone of New Chinese Style Music#. It's both accurate and not. Accurate because no album could ever surpass this milestone. It's set in stone, overlooking every album that came after."
Fan review excerpt: "Ahhhhhhhhhh!"]
This was the album with the highest support votes and expert votes of all Top 100 albums.
Everyone expected Nine Songs to dominate, but no one thought Besieged on All Sides would also sneak in. Albums like 25117 Possibilities and Little Fruits Are Sweet had only 50 and 51 expert votes, yet Besieged on All Sides had a whopping 93, even higher than Ode to the Orange Tree. It baffled casual listeners.
It was one thing for Nine Songs to outshine Ode to the Orange Tree. But how could Besieged on All Sides beat the very album that started it all?!
A certain producer finally addressed the doubts on Weibo.
Jia Yi: "If you've got questions about Besieged on All Sides, then you didn't really listen to it. Check the listener comments on any platform."
The tone was blunt. Many people had assumed Besieged on All Sides was just a fan-service album like Little Fruits Are Sweet because of its massive sales, so they never gave it a chance. But once they did… they couldn't go back.
Comment sections:
Sunflower
[Used to love rock, but as I got older it felt too noisy. Switched to folk and jazz, but this song dragged me right back. "If a sunflower always grows in the dark, would it be afraid?" That lyric blew me away!]
She and She and She
[Chu Zhi's so far ahead of his peers. This year's "Wang Chun Incident" made people pay attention to women's workplace rights. Laws do say you can't fire or demote women for maternity leave, breastfeeding, or pregnancy, but companies always find loopholes. Lyrics like, "Her parents begged her to come home, no blind dates, no boyfriend, no disobedience. Beware of malicious gossip, act too boyish and you'll be treated as a vase. Ask about marriage, she says she's never thought about it. Standing here by strength, trusting fairness will come." Just those lines made me cry. If I hadn't gotten into college, I'd have been forced into marriage already.]
[Just failed another interview. My family only says, "We can't help you, you've gotta make it yourself." Every call with them feels suffocating. This song gave me a reason to hold on. Not for anything else, but because Chu Zhi said, "Why think so much? You're already amazing."]
The Me I Once Was
[Kind of worried about Chu Zhi's mental state. Not a joke, the lyrics feel like he's on the edge, like he might leave the world any second.]
The End of War
["What shape is hope in the eyes of children? Is there bread for breakfast when they wake?" Chills all over. Anti-war classic. Brother Jiu's lyrics are insane.]
[After the melody fades, there's a soft whisper. I replayed it a dozen times and finally heard it: "I hope humanity never knows war again. I hope Little Fruits always stay healthy." That hit me hard.]
Three on a Trip
[The vibe, the R&B rhythm, better than Old Yang's songs!]
Life Like Summer Flowers
[Double fandom surprise! I was just reading Huainan's poetry collection, and this song With You My Whole Life echoes Huainan's Stray Birds. Chu Zhi really does love reading.]
…
There were thirteen songs in total. Checking all the comment sections was too much, but even a quick skim proved enough.
Besieged on All Sides was strong because every single track—rock, folk, rap, R&B, jazz—could've been a lead single.
Between Douban's selection and its massive physical sales, the public finally had a clear impression: since 2015, Chu Zhi wasn't just number one. He was number one with no number two, three, or four. The gap between him and everyone else was too wide, in both reputation and commercial success.
Back to the main stage, Unsinkable had no rivals in China's summer season, but in America it faced three heavyweights. Summer was the second biggest box office season there, and no company would miss the chance to cash in.
The rivals: Sony's Stellar Rangers, Disney's 0811: Critical Moment, and Warner's Future Empire.
The biggest investment, of course, was Cameron's Unsinkable, but North American audiences were more hyped for Stellar Rangers and Critical Moment. The former was adapted from a popular comic, and the latter was the third film in a globally beloved series, still with the original cast.
In America, the only seasons that could carry multiple blockbusters at once were Christmas and summer.
Two besties, Laura and Crawford, were caught in a fight over which film to watch.
"Why not 0811: Critical Moment? The series is amazing, and it's Douglas! I'm buying tickets." Laura started walking to the counter.
"I already booked Unsinkable on Movietickets. Two seats. The film starts in less than two hours, no refunds." Crawford said.
"What did you do?!" Laura's eyes widened. In the States, Movietickets charged more than box office counters, so hardly anyone used it.
"I'm a fan of Chu Zhi. Of course I'll support him." Crawford said.
"I can't believe it. An LA girl choosing a Chinese star over Douglas? That's harder to accept than my dad quitting drinking."
Douglas was a global superstar, one of the few actors still able to guarantee box office in the internet age, and a member of Hollywood's profit-sharing club. At thirty-something, the media called him a modern-day Apollo, a man with godlike looks. Laura was obviously shallow but never admitted it, insisting it was his acting she loved.
Yeah right. Douglas wasn't just a pretty face, his acting was decent, but in Hollywood there were plenty who could act circles around him.
Still, the tickets were bought. Laura had no choice but to grumble and follow her friend into the theater.
"People Magazine named him number one in Asia's Most Beautiful 100 Faces last year. They called him a face sculpted by God. He's exactly your type." Crawford teased.
"I'm not that shallow. I told you, I like actors with real acting chops." Laura said firmly. What use was being Asia's most beautiful face?
She knew Asia had plenty of good-looking guys, but the gap between Chinese and American beauty standards was still there. No way anyone could be more perfect than Douglas.
No way. Absolutely not!
Inside the theater, Laura noticed the occupancy was about fifty percent. Honestly, with three blockbusters releasing at once, that wasn't bad at all.
The film opened with a flashback: salvaging the Titanic wreck, retrieving the Heart of the Ocean from a vault. The story then jumped back to the early 20th century.
A tale from over a hundred years ago didn't interest her much, but when the camera cut to a gambling scene in a small tavern…
"Huh? Wait, is that…"