Just because of that one comment Xia Xiqing left in the discussion thread, Zhou Ziheng was on cloud nine for a whole week. Every day, whether there was a reason or not, he’d find himself grinning like an idiot at Xia Xiqing and doing all sorts of strange things.
One day, Xia Xiqing was curled up in Zhou Ziheng’s bedroom watching a movie when he heard noise downstairs. Rushing down, he found Zhou Ziheng and Zhao Ke lugging two large cardboard boxes. Curious about their contents, he asked, but both boys stammered and hesitated.
“What are you carrying? Let me help you.”
“Ah, no need, no need,” Zhou Ziheng chuckled awkwardly, nudging Zhao Ke’s leg with his foot. “We’re heading to the rooftop.”
“Is there a key for the rooftop?” Xia Xiqing frowned in confusion.
Zhou Ziheng nodded. “I got one from property management yesterday.” With that, the two huffed and puffed their way up the stairs, boxes in tow.
As they passed him, Xia Xiqing caught a glimpse of the English text on the boxes.
It felt vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t until bedtime that night Xia Xiqing recalled seeing a similar cardboard box at Xia Zhixu’s place—though his brother’s box had held an astronomical CCD camera and photography equipment.
What on earth would Zhou Ziheng need that for?
Come to think of it, it wasn’t surprising. Xia Zhixu’s brother studied astrophysics, and Zhou Ziheng studied physics. It made sense they shared similar interests.
The selection of Tracking for the Berlin Film Festival’s main competition was not publicly announced initially. It wasn’t until early December, when the official list was released, that the film’s official Weibo account made the announcement, simultaneously revealing the release date had been pushed back to coincide with the festival’s opening day.
[@TrackingOfficial: Directed by Kun Cheng @ChengChengChengzi, starring Zhou Ziheng @ActorZhouZiheng and Xia Xiqing @Tsing_Summer, Tracking has been rescheduled for February 3! The 1:30 “Fate Edition” trailer is now live. Life is like an ant’s—fight for your destiny!]
During post-production, Kun Cheng and the production team repeatedly summoned Xia Xiqing to consult him on artistic perspectives. Though Xia, not a professional film art director, initially declined, Kun Cheng insisted.
“Your role is unique—you’re not just a painter, but also Jiang Tong in the film. We need to portray the world through Jiang Tong’s eyes. ”
Xia Xiqing instantly grasped Kun Cheng’s meaning. What was required was to use artistic techniques to recreate, as faithfully as possible in the audience’s eyes, the world Jiang Tong saw—a world ablaze with oil and blooming with flowers, yet utterly cruel.
On the day the trailer was released, Xia Xiqing felt incredibly tense. This nervousness was almost comparable to his first experience attending an auction for his own paintings. Unlike painting, this film required him to embody an entire person to interpret a soul strikingly similar to his own. Such creative work was profoundly rare for him—perhaps a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
So even though he’d been fully involved in the filming, his heart still skipped a beat upon seeing the trailer.
As the first teaser, it was only one minute and thirty seconds long, with very limited content and plot to convey. The opening scene showed Zhou Ziheng as Gao Kun sitting in that cramped, dilapidated clinic. The close-up shot rapidly cut between two faces: Gao Kun, with his fiery red hair and menacing aura, and the doctor, his face full of fleshy features and eyes brimming with contempt.
“You won’t even tell me what’s wrong with me?”
“What? You want a terminal diagnosis?”
The clinic door slammed shut. Graffiti covered the walls, plastered with flyers like lichen, intertwined with bright red paint stencils advertising fake documents—all covering each other up like people hiding shameful deeds.
The camera captured only a pair of legs trudging through the muddy alleyway, black jeans splattered with dirt. A long shot revealed the community, decaying like a rotten ant nest, where all manner of underclass people came and went. A ten-second sequence encapsulates the lowest rung of humanity: curses mingled with shouts for children to come home for dinner, vendors’ cries blending with the shrill honks of cars stuck in the congested underpass. Yet these are merely background noise. The true voiceover accompanies those relentlessly moving legs.
［Your mother ran off after giving birth to you—she was tricked into having this kid!］
［Bastard born without a mother to raise you.］
［Father dead, grandmother dead too—perfect. A real jinx.］
［What kind of work are you looking for in the city? Are you even of age? I won’t hire child labor. Get lost, get lost! Don’t mess with my business!］
［Hey, what kind of work can you handle? Saving grandmas? In this day and age, save yourself.］
［Go to a fancy hospital if you can afford it! You’ll be sick and poor your whole life!］
The voices grew louder and louder, a chaotic din blending together like countless machines spinning out of control. Finally, they faded into silence amid a piercing screech.
The screen went black. In the darkness, heavy breathing could be heard.
“I’ve got AIDS.” The voice held a momentary calm.
When the screen lit up again, it showed Gao Kun violently pounding on the iron gate of A Long’s rental apartment. With a thunderous crash, Gao Kun’s twisted, ferocious face appeared through the bars.
“AIDS! Do you know what that means?!”
The green wall outside the iron gate gradually transforms through a montage effect into a nighttime convenience store bathed in a green filter.
Gao Kun, his palm slashed open, smeared crimson blood wildly across the convenience store shelves. His legs drifted like a wandering spirit until he stumbled, blood trailing behind him, to the back row of shelves near the storage area. There, he met another pair of footsteps—worn, peeling white sneakers brushed clean, and a convenience store uniform pant covered in dust.
The camera focused only on the lower half of the body. The uniformed figure released their grip, and the box they held dropped to the floor, scattering a rainbow of lollipops across the tiles.
The orange lollipops transformed again, becoming an orange sunset. In the shadows cast on the wall, a frail voice whimpered, curled up on the ground, beaten to the point of being unable to stand.
The music suddenly accelerates, and two sets of images begin to intertwine. Both are tracking shots: one follows a frail figure in darkness, the other a limping silhouette along a sunset-drenched street. The scenes repeatedly flash between midnight and dusk, culminating in a climactic musical crescendo as two faces come into sharp focus.
The screen flickered. Gao Kun’s fingers dug into someone’s throat, veins bulging as he ground out the words through clenched teeth.
“I can’t die alone in silence…”
With that line, the screen abruptly went dark.
In the pitch-black frame, a blood droplet appeared, gradually morphing into the characters “Tracking.” Yet the crimson hue repeatedly faded, light and shadow intertwining like rays of sunset filtering through the slits of black paper cutouts.
The scene cuts. All background music vanishes, leaving only an unsettling, deathly silence.
The camera shows Jiang Tong standing empty-handed, dazed. His pupils flicker, his face pale. His mouth opens, wanting to speak, but he finds no sound. His hands are empty, while scattered lollipops litter the floor at his feet.
One lollipop rolls to the feet of the man standing opposite. He picks it up with a blood-soaked hand and offers it to Jiang Tong.
The final shot is a close-up of Gao Kun.
He wipes his face with his bleeding hand and flashes a smile—at Jiang Tong, or perhaps at the audience.
A grim, twisted, terrifying smile. A smile of utter despair.
The screen went black once more, giving way to the credits. The final line from the trailer echoed in the ears—a trembling voice, yet one that carried a stubborn defiance.
“Does a worthless life… deserve to die?”
Though he’d seen every shot before, this debut trailer still sent a jolt through Xia Xiqing—especially Gao Kun’s final smile. It was the first time he’d encountered Jiang Tong after his psyche had completely shattered.
Xia Xiqing was pleasantly surprised to see the director had indeed adopted his suggestions for the art direction. Unlike the typical gray, cold, and harsh color palette used in many realistic films, the trailer featured rich, almost viscous hues—high saturation with low brightness.
Mossy walls dripping with damp emerald green, viscous crimson blood, the pale green filter of a convenience store at midnight, mint-hued culverts, orange-red lollipops, and the sunset in the sugar syrup film.
“In Jiang Tong’s eyes, the world is both beautiful and rotten. That’s why he wants to survive. And he loves painting. For someone who loves art to his core, even the most rotten world holds a decaying beauty.”
These were Xia Xiqing’s exact words, brought to life through the entire production team. How remarkable.
The trailer sparked heated online discussions upon release. Setting aside other factors, the two leads possess unmatched star power today—yet they defy conventional notions of “traffic.” One is a national actor in his twenties with over a decade of experience, whose lead roles rarely produce flops. He’s a rare academic prodigy who bypassed art schools to gain admission to prestigious universities through sheer talent.
The other is even more legendary—overnight fame fueled by looks, yet he’s actually a painter who created an oil painting sold for 800,000 yuan at age fifteen. After navigating a coming-out controversy, he’s become a trailblazer for the LGBT community.
When these two come together, paired with an up-and-coming director who has repeatedly won international awards for independent films, and layered with highly sensitive themes, it’s hard for them not to spark public discussion.
[@SelfStudyBoost: An Alpha who doesn’t want to be a physicist isn’t a good actor.]
[@SweetestCP: A handsome top who doesn’t aspire to be a great actor isn’t a good painter.]
[@FakeSmart: Holy crap, that last laugh gave me goosebumps—I swear I’m not a Zhou fan!]
[@AmISick: Zhou Ziheng deserves an award too. The trailer alone screams nomination material.]
[@RainbowHallbiubiubiu: I wasn’t keen on watching Xia Xiqing at first [no offense, just questioning his acting credentials], but after seeing the trailer, I’m totally hooked???]
[@OHlala: Xia Xiqing is so gorgeous… [mesmerized by beauty, unable to think straight]]
[@SWood: I never watch movies with流量 (traffic stars). The fan-controlled comments are ridiculous—don’t you feel awkward?]
[@WhoMarriesFirstIsADog: Legs everywhere, seriously… Zhou Ziheng looks so handsome with red hair. I didn’t recognize him at first glance! That final smile is way too wicked!]
[@MoviePeterPan: From the trailer’s perspective, the production values are genuinely commendable. Both the cinematography and music reflect the filmmakers’ sincerity, while the color palette is uniquely striking—a deliberate contrast that amplifies the sense that the more vibrant the visuals, the deeper the sorrow. The final line of dialogue genuinely gave me goosebumps. Zhou Ziheng is a top performer in the film industry, and his consistently strong work often overshadows the effort behind it. I feel this film might just be his breakout moment for an award nomination. Additionally, Xia Xiqing’s final appearance was a delightful surprise. His previous appearances always carried an unshakable air of upper-class reserve—something innate—but in this film, it’s completely worn away. It perfectly aligns with the film’s “life is like an ant” theme and is unexpectedly excellent.
[@Our Ourselves: I wasn’t initially interested, but when Xia Xiqing came out, many linked it to this film—claiming he contracted AIDS through promiscuity, which is why he took the role. At the time, I thought some people’s hearts were truly too filthy to bear. Now I see this film is genuinely sincere. How many dare tackle this subject? Just for the sheer guts Xia Xiqing showed coming out, I’d buy a ticket to support it.]
Despite many discordant voices—especially from that group of homophobic middle-aged straight men who’ve been building up resentment since the October incident—most reactions have been positive. The trailer’s quality speaks for itself; it’s hard not to be persuaded.
Xia Xiqing isn’t easily swayed by others’ opinions, but receiving affirmation moves anyone.
Becoming a pleasant surprise amid low expectations is both fortunate and joyful.
As a key creator, Xia Xiqing graciously reposted the official Weibo trailer.
[@Tsing_Summer: Being human, I did nothing wrong.]
Had Jiang Tong been portrayed by another actor, this line in the repost wouldn’t have sparked much discussion. But the coincidence—it was Xia Xiqing, who had weathered a coming-out controversy—created an emotional bridge. This grafted connection easily drew viewers into Xia Xiqing’s perspective, fostering a subtle empathy that further bound the actor to the character.
Soon after, Zhou Ziheng—currently filming a perfume commercial—also reposted the Weibo.
[@Actor Zhou Ziheng: Gao Kun, hello. You did nothing wrong.]
Xia Xiqing found himself busier than ever in December. Precisely because of the earlier online controversy, the art gallery’s exposure had triggered an explosive surge in visitors. Though most were only superficially familiar with art, a crowd was still preferable to emptiness. Xia Xiqing, committed to running the place properly, carefully preserved his mother’s legacy. Faced with this situation, he and his team worked overtime, holding meetings to devise crowd control measures. They also created specialized activities targeting non-professionals, akin to art education.
He’d assumed these tasks wouldn’t be too overwhelming, but the reality proved far more complicated. Having dedicated his life to painting since childhood, he now found himself forced to learn business management from scratch. For Friday’s gallery event, Xia Xiqing burned the midnight oil for three or four nights straight, personally selecting exhibits and inviting renowned domestic artists to deliver opening lectures. Even Zhou Ziheng, who was usually busier than him, felt a pang of concern.
“Why push yourself so hard?” Zhou Ziheng draped a thick blanket over Xia Xiqing, who was hunched over the workbench revising design plans.
Xia Xiqing lifted his head and cracked his neck. “Do you know why Jiang Tong worked multiple jobs to rent that old apartment despite being so poor? He could have easily rented a single room and lived more comfortably.” ”
This was unscripted. Zhou Ziheng hesitated, then suddenly understood.
But he didn’t voice it. Xia Xiqing merely smiled, lowered his head, and continued working.
Zhou Ziheng embraced him from behind and kissed the top of his head.
Because Jiang Tong wanted to keep the house where he and his mother had once lived together.
December 21st, Friday, 3 PM. The event Xia Xiqing had organized commenced. As the gallery owner, he attended in formal attire. Below the stage, numerous fans of Xia Xiqing had gathered. Since he had previously announced online, these fans were well-behaved—no light sticks, banners, or other cheering paraphernalia. They arrived quietly, remained orderly, and made no commotion.
Xia Xiqing had personally crafted a flower basket for fans to deposit their letters. Yet shortly after the event started, the basket overflowed, unable to hold any more.
“Boss, many people brought gifts. Should we accept them?”
Assuming this was standard practice in fan circles, Xia Xiqing shook his head. “No gifts, please. Letters are fine.”
“But there are so many gifts! We started by placing them in the corner of the outer hall, but now that corner is getting a bit crowded…”
“Who told you to pile them up? I explicitly said no gifts allowed.” Dressed in a black suit, Xia Xiqing pressed his earpiece and hurried toward the outer hall. But then came another voice: “No, boss, they insist on giving them because…”
“No excuses. I’ll be right…”
“Because they said it’s your birthday gift, and there’s a huge cake too.”
Xia Xiqing’s footsteps halted abruptly.
Birthday?
He fumbled with his phone, unlocking the screen. December 21st.
It really was his birthday…
Watching the girls lined up at the ticket gate, a complex wave of emotion washed over Xia Xiqing. They were so obedient—no noise, no cheering, no fan displays. They just quietly placed their letters, slipped gifts to the staff, and stood silently. Not even a “Happy Birthday” dared escape their lips, for fear of disturbing him.
Receiving another’s affection is always a blessing, no matter when.
Xia Xiqing called his assistant over. “Go buy as many flowers as possible—pink roses—for these girls. One for each of them.”
The assistant quickly fulfilled the request, distributing the flowers one by one to the fans during ticket verification. Xia Xiqing personally cut the large cake and shared it with everyone.
Soon, the assistant wheeled in another stand draped in dark blue velvet.
“Mr. Xia, this is also a gift for you.”
Xia Xiqing, pressed for time, didn’t even look up. “Leave it in the outer hall. I’ll…”
“Would you like to take a look first?”
He lifted his head, glancing at the stand with puzzlement. Under the crystal chandelier, the shimmering velvet held a card bearing the words: Happy Birthday.
The moment he saw the signature, Xia Xiqing froze.
From: Thief.
He reached out, his heart pounding wildly, each beat echoing against his barren, hollow chest, as if resonating with whatever lay concealed beneath that velvet.
Lifting the cover, Xia Xiqing saw an oil painting depicting a woman of striking beauty seated elegantly.
It was the portrait he had painted of his mother at fifteen—his very first work sold at auction.
After a decade of wandering and displacement, it had finally returned to him.
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