Just because I wrote "Zhu Xian," the school beauty sent me razor blades.

The twenty-ninth day of the twelfth lunar month.

There are still two days until the first day of the Lunar New Year.

CCTV's propaganda machine has officially started running.

CCTV-6's "Dragon Kingdom Film Report" premiered the first behind-the-scenes footage of "Qian Xuesen" filming in the Gobi Desert—no director interviews, no actor interviews, just forty seconds of pure on-set footage: howling sandstorms, Lin Yuan's hair blown into a mess behind the monitor, actors wearing cotton-padded coats filming winter scenes in minus ten degrees Celsius, and silhouettes of model missiles slowly rising in the sunset.

One comment summed it up in one sentence: "It feels like these guys really did spend two months eating sand in the Gobi Desert."

Following that, the "Premiere" program dedicated a special episode to "Qian Xuesen".

Director Lin Yuan and the male lead were interviewed by the host.

The program avoided any flashy gimmicks; the host simply asked a few practical questions: Why did you choose this subject? What was the most difficult part of filming? Which scene moved you the most?

Lin Yuan's answer was very restrained.

"Because this story deserves to be told."

"The hardest part is—you know that every scene you film actually happened, so you can't afford to be faking it."

"What moved me most was that after the successful launch, no one cheered; they just stood and watched. It was something very heavy, indescribable."

At the end of the program, the full footage of the missile launch and the underground control room was shown.

It's not just a few seconds of editing in the trailer, but a full minute and a half of complete footage—from the countdown, ignition, and liftoff, to the faces of the seven operators in the underground control room, and then to the silhouettes of everyone on the ground looking up.

On the day the program aired, #QianXuesenUndergroundControlRoom# became a trending topic.

The thirtieth day of the twelfth lunar month, Lunar New Year's Eve.

CCTV News Channel dedicated two full minutes to introducing this film during its midday news program.

The host's wording was very formal: "The film 'Qian Xuesen,' a tribute to the 60th anniversary of China's space program, will be officially released on the first day of the Lunar New Year. Produced primarily by the August First Film Studio, with funding from Tianxing Entertainment, and jointly supported by the military and the space agency, the film authentically portrays the patriotism and dedication of the older generation of scientists."

CCTV.com simultaneously released an extended two-minute trailer.

The last frame is a silhouette of a mushroom cloud slowly rising, accompanied by the text:

"They hid their names in the sandstorm, but brought their nation to the forefront of the world."

New Year's Day.

Nine in the morning.

Lin Yuan was woken up by his phone vibrating.

It wasn't just one person sending the message; it was a group of people.

Zhou Zixuan: [Brother Yuan! I went to see an early show with my parents! Tickets were so hard to get!]

Qian Zhuangzhuang: [Brother Yuan, I'm in the theater too! The room is packed! This is the first time I've ever seen so many people at a patriotic movie!]

Gu Zhiwan: [Director Lin, I'm at the cinema entrance. I'll write you an 800-word review after I finish watching the film.]

Fei Zhao: [The first day's screening schedule is out, 12%, higher than we expected. But the Spring Festival season is too crowded, everything depends on word-of-mouth.]

Lin Yuan leaned against the headboard, read through the messages one by one, then put down his phone and let out a long sigh.

Outside the window, there was a light morning mist, and the sound of sporadic firecrackers could be heard in the distance.

New Year's Day.

finally come.

The first wave of moviegoers ended at 10:30 a.m.

The response was more overwhelming than anyone had anticipated.

The first to be affected was the university community.

Jiaotong University, Beijing Institute of Technology, Beihang University, and dozens of other aerospace and science and engineering universities across the country almost all organized group screenings. Some even booked early morning screenings in advance.

A sophomore at Beihang University posted a message on the campus forum after watching it, with a title of just one sentence:

"Having no sword in your hand is not the same as having a sword and not using it."

The post received 20,000 upvotes within two hours.

The comments below are all from STEM students.

[Mechanical Engineering Junior: After three years of studying mechanical design, I finally understand the practical application of what I've learned.]

[Second-year graduate student in Aerospace Engineering: My advisor said what we're working on is a "national strategic asset," and only today did I truly understand what those four words meant.]

[Materials Science Freshman: I used to think studying materials science was a dead-end career, and that I'd be better off becoming a programmer and making more money. After watching the movie, I realized—some things just have to be done by someone.]

[School of Computer Science: Those senior programmers in the underground control room, their computers weren't even as powerful as our current mobile phones, yet they calculated the flight trajectories of missiles. What reason do we have not to work hard?]

During the scene in the movie where the missile takes off, many students said they "instinctively held their breath."

And at the end, when Qian Xuesen's inner monologue appears, "This is the apple I planted in the Dragon Kingdom"—

In the cinema, many science and engineering students took off their glasses and wiped their eyes.

The discussion was even more intense among overseas students.

On a forum for overseas students, a pinned post reads: "After reading 'Qian Xuesen,' I seriously considered returning to China for the first time."

The comments below were thousands of, and the argument was in full swing.

Some people say: Our ancestors came back even when they were penniless, so why shouldn't we come back now that conditions are so good?

Some say: Everyone has their own choices, and we can't use morality to coerce them.

Some people say: Whether or not to return to China is a personal choice, but after watching this film, you will at least understand why that generation was willing to risk their lives to come back.

The reactions of ordinary viewers were more straightforward.

Many middle-aged people originally went with their children or spouses, just to take a casual look around since they had nothing else to do, without any expectations.

After all, in most people's minds, patriotic movies = preachy = boring = put you to sleep.

When they left the theater, everyone's eyes were red.

Guangming Digital News conducted a random street interview, interviewing more than a dozen middle-aged viewers who had just watched the movie.

A man in his forties stood at the cinema entrance for a long time after watching the movie.

The reporter asked him how he felt.

He thought for a long time before finally managing to say, "I used to think that patriotic films were just empty slogans, but this one... is really different."

"How are they different?"

"I can't quite put my finger on it," he said, scratching his head. "After watching it, I felt a tightness in my chest, but also a strange heat in my heart."

A woman in her fifties kept wiping away tears after watching it.

"Jiang Ying had such a difficult life," she said repeatedly. "China can live without the singer Jiang Ying, but it cannot live without Qian Xuesen—after hearing that, I couldn't stop my tears."

The couples in the audience were the ones who cried the most.

Many husbands remained silent for a long time after reading it, then said to their wives, "I only knew Qian Xuesen was amazing before, but I didn't know he suffered so much."

The wives' reactions were more direct—

"They didn't give up even after five years of house arrest. What are our current difficulties compared to that?"

"Tell this story to your child when you get home."

The general audience's reviews were almost unanimously positive: there was no deliberate attempt to evoke emotion, the narrative was restrained, and the sense of pride felt after watching it came from the bottom of their hearts, not from something forced upon them.

It has a Douban rating of 9.2.

It was higher than all other films released during the same period of the Spring Festival.

The positive reviews from mainstream state media came faster than expected.

On the afternoon of the first day of the Lunar New Year, the official Weibo account of People's Daily posted a long commentary:

"The film 'Qian Xuesen' balances historical accuracy with cinematic artistry, portraying a textbook scientist as an ordinary person with ideals, choices, and compassion. He wasn't a perfect god; he felt anger, resentment, and homesickness, but ultimately chose to link his personal fate with the fate of the nation. This is what makes it so moving."

CCTV News reposted the article with the caption: "Their names are unknown, but their achievements will live on forever."

The film reviews on 1905.com are more professional, focusing on praising the actors and director:

"The actor's portrayal of Qian Xuesen is both refined and resolute, avoiding any idealization or caricature, making the character three-dimensional and vivid. Even more remarkable is the director—an eighteen-year-old newcomer who demonstrated astonishing control and aesthetic sense in handling historical subjects. Restraint is the most valuable quality of this film."

The box office figures came out in the evening.

The box office on the first day was 120 million.

It wasn't a blockbuster, but it ranked fourth among the six major films released during the Spring Festival.

However, it only gets 12% of the screenings.

The occupancy rate was the highest during the entire Spring Festival film season.

Fei Zhao sent Lin Yuan a message with only one sentence:

"The word-of-mouth is phenomenal. Now, it's just a matter of seeing how far it can go."

Lin Yuan looked at his phone screen, a slight smile curving his lips.

He looked up; the sky outside the window had already darkened.

In the distance, thousands of lights shine.

Lin Liguo called to him from the kitchen, "Xiao Yuan, dinner's ready! Your mom made eight dishes today!"

"They're here!"

Lin Yuan put his phone in his pocket and walked out of the room.

At the dinner table, Jiang Wanqing kept putting food on his plate.

"Eat more, look how thin you are."

"Mom, I've already eaten my third bowl."

"Have another bowl."

Lin Liguo, holding his wine glass, looked at his son and suddenly said, "I'm going to see the movie."

Lin Yuan raised his head.

"The filming was alright." Lin Liguo took a sip of his drink, his tone flat, but the tips of his ears were slightly red. "It didn't ruin those people's stories."

Lin Yuan smiled.

"Dad, Happy Chinese New Year."

Happy Chinese New Year.

Outside the window, the sound of firecrackers rose and fell.

A new year has begun.