The release of Stalker in China coincided with the mid-to-late phase of the Spring Festival season, overlapping with Valentine’s Day. It faced competition not only from a pair of popular Spring Festival comedies but also several Valentine’s Day romance films. Despite Zhou Ziheng winning the Silver Bear for this film, a realistic and sensitive subject matter inevitably struggles to secure favorable screenings during a season dominated by family-friendly expectations.
On opening day, theaters allocated a mere 18% of screenings to the film. Unexpectedly, nearly all these limited slots were snapped up by fans, catching even the theater chains off guard. This led to fans facing ticket shortages on the very first day. Many film critics invited to preview screenings also released their reviews on opening day.
The buzz on Weibo grew exponentially. The real-life drama Stalking suddenly saw its reputation skyrocket, with the hashtag [Watched Stalking and Cried My Eyes Out] trending on Weibo.
[@WhoAmI’sLittleBaby: Stalking is seriously amazing!! I went in for the Silver Bear Award, but ended up crying so hard my eyeliner and mascara were a total mess!]
[@You’reProbablyAWerewolf: Stalker is just so incredibly good—the best movie I’ve seen recently. The concept is profound and deeply realistic. At first, I thought it was a suspense thriller; the atmosphere is so masterfully built. The pacing shifts perfectly in the middle, and the ending absolutely broke me. I’m usually tough to cry, but the moment Jiang Tong appeared, I felt tears welling up. Zhou Ziheng’s acting is seriously impressive. His portrayal of the yandere at the start and his frail, sickly state later on are completely different—like two people. Ugh, just thinking about it makes me want to cry again.]
[@spark: I wasn’t really into watching this at first. How to put it… I didn’t have high hopes for either lead actor. My friends dragged me along after getting tired from shopping. But after watching, I’m totally hooked! Zhou Ziheng and Xia Xiqing are just so perfectly matched!!! I was blind not to ship this couple sooner—I’m shipping them hard now!!!]
[@toxic: After watching Stalker, I felt so heartbroken. Domestic violence is truly unforgivable—so many people are unworthy of being parents! And HIV… I admit I had some biases myself before. I hope society can be more tolerant toward people living with HIV in the future, with less discrimination and prejudice.]
[@断线风筝: I knew why Zhou Ziheng won the award, but what surprised me even more in the theater was Xia Xiqing. I thought his face might not suit the big screen—too pretty, like a kid who’s never known hardship. But the moment he appeared, I ate my words. He was pure vulnerability, pitiful yet stubborn. His crying scenes were utterly heartbreaking. Every time he cried, I wanted to cry too. Waaah, Mama loves you.
[@Universe’s Number One Alpha: Honestly, I used to be Zhou Ziheng’s die-hard fan. After he went public with his relationship, I sort of drifted away. At first, I couldn’t accept it. But when the movie came out, I couldn’t resist watching it. After all, he’d worked so hard for so long, enduring so much hardship. I still felt a pang of reluctance. I cried nonstop throughout the whole thing. Ziheng is truly amazing—never fighting for attention, quietly acting all these years until finally winning Best Actor. I might not get over this hurdle anytime soon, but after watching this film, I just can’t unfollow him.]
[@An Extraordinary Movie Blogger: When I left the midnight preview screening, the girls on both sides of me were crying. I won’t spoil the plot, but I want to talk about the two leads. Zhou Ziheng’s performance took a huge leap forward. I’ve talked about him before—he’s a naturally gifted actor who also works incredibly hard. But in romantic scenes, there was always a barrier; he and his characters often fell just short. This time, it was completely gone. Whether it was Gao Kun’s early bond with Lingling or his later socialist brotherhood with Jiang Tong, it all felt incredibly genuine and moving. He truly deserved the award. As for Xia Xiqing, being non-professional, I wasn’t optimistic at first. But once I saw him on screen, he became a major surprise in this film. While there might be a gap between him personally and Jiang Tong, in the theater you can’t find any disconnect between the character and the actor. You realize you can’t separate Jiang Tong from him—he is Jiang Tong. Perhaps he’s also a naturally gifted performer? I must say the director’s casting choices were truly masterful. This film is bound to be the dark horse of its release window.
…
Stalker grossed a high 220 million yuan on its opening day, capturing 34% of the box office share—far exceeding its screening rate. As word-of-mouth continued to spread, theater chains swiftly adjusted schedules, boosting its share from 18% to 32% and adding more showtimes nationwide.
Beyond the two lead actors, the film’s ending sparked the most discussion.
The ending of Stalker is open-ended. Midway through the film, when Jiang Tong and Gao Kun sit by the riverbank chatting, Jiang Tong mentions her dream of saving money to see the ocean and paint a sunrise by the sea. At the conclusion, Gao Kun’s illness worsens, leaving him clinging to life, with no explicit resolution on whether his condition is cured.
In the final scene, Jiang Tong, clad in a white shirt, sits alone by the sea. Before her lies an easel, behind which shimmer the waves and a radiant sunrise. Suddenly, a tall figure approaches from behind—red hair, arms covered in tattoos. Gao Kun sat quietly beside Jiang Tong, gazing up at the sun on the horizon.
As the screen faded to black, Gao Kun’s voice echoed with a single, simple line:
[It’s wonderful. Your dream has come true.]
This ending sparked intense analysis and debate among audiences after the film’s release, particularly on review and Q&A platforms. The central point of contention was whether this conclusion represented a B.E. (Bad Ending) or a H.E. (Happy Ending).
[@It’s a Shrimp Not a Pikachu: I’m Team HE!!! No matter what, I’m Team HE! My Gao Kun is healed, waaah! The babies watching the sunrise together—they’ll have a whole new life from now on.]
[@NicoleNicoleNicole: I’m an unwavering HE supporter. When the ocean appeared at the end, tears just kept streaming down my face. It’s so heartbreaking for my boys—they’re so kind-hearted. I need a happy ending to comfort myself.]
[@JadeCanBePolished: Covering my ears, not listening! This is HE! You two must stay together forever, healthy and blessed with long lives. Mama loves you!]
[@Kunlun Jun: Honestly, it should be a bittersweet ending. First, Jiang Tong and Gao Kun didn’t appear in the scene at the same time—that’s odd. Jiang Tong had been drawn for so long before Gao Kun showed up? Second, look closely at Gao Kun’s condition. He clearly doesn’t look critically ill yet; his clothes and appearance match that stage. During his severe illness, he was skin and bones. Third, Jiang Tong and Gao Kun never interacted throughout the scene—not even a glance. Finally, you might’ve missed the last painting: two figures by the sea. If Gao Kun were beside him, Jiang Tong would’ve glanced at him before continuing. So I think the Gao Kun who appeared at the end was his spirit.]
[@Xiao Youyou Youyou Replies to @KunlunJun: Holy crap, are you some kind of devil with a microscope???]
[@土斤七 replies to @崑崙君: My heart’s about to burst from all your sharp insights! If I don’t listen to you, I’m not human!]
[@一瓶上天的可乐 replies to @崑崙君: Tell me! Are you the screenwriter’s secret account?! ! ]
[@Sweet_Sweet: It’s definitely a b-end. Tongtong has a small ebony box beside him—it must be Gao Kun’s urn.]
[@GoldenBeansSilverBeans: An urn… waaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I refuse to believe it! That’s not an urn, it’s a paint palette!!!]
[@Bai Yiyan: @That Adorable Screenwriter Bro, come out and take your beating [Nah, I kinda feel bad…]
[@I’m Wangzai: Waaah screenwriter bro, how could you be so cruel? Are you some kind of BE maniac???]
Amidst the netizens’ spontaneous discussions, [Is the ending b or h?] trended on Weibo. Xu Qichen’s Weibo was flooded with comments—a sea of razor blades people wanted to post but couldn’t bring themselves to. He was both amused and exasperated, so he posted a Weibo to divert attention.
[@Xu Qichen: Everyone can interpret this ending however they want. As long as reality is a happy ending, that’s all that matters.]
The most split personality thing is how vastly different reality is from the movie. The more torturous Jiang Tong and Gao Kun are in the film, the sweeter their real-life self-study sessions become.
On the third day of Stalker’s release, the main cast and crew participated in a Beijing promotional event. They hadn’t expected a large turnout and had only prepared a medium-sized venue. But the crowd completely overwhelmed their expectations—many audience members had no seats and ended up sitting on the floor in the aisles.
When Xia Xiqing followed Zhou Ziheng into the venue, he was taken aback by the packed crowd. Fans spotted them and screamed so loudly it nearly shook the roof. They walked onto the stage one by one, with Director Kun standing center, flanked by Zhou Ziheng. Xia Xiqing stood next to Zhou Ziheng, positioned farthest to the left.
Director Kun dominated the conversation throughout most of the event, with Xia Xiqing rarely taking the microphone. Many fans directed questions at Zhou Ziheng—about the Silver Bear award, his career transition, and similar topics.
One girl stood up. “Ziheng, I remember you said on a variety show last time that if Stalker broke 1 billion yuan at the box office, you’d grant us one wish. Now Stalker is almost at 800 million, and 1 billion is within reach soon. Does the promise still stand?”
Zhou Ziheng took the microphone. “It stands. But what wish do you want?”
A cacophony of voices erupted from the audience.
“Live stream!!!”
“Vlog!!! I want to see a vlog!!!”
“Collaborate again!”
“Get on a variety show!!”
“Do a magazine shoot!!”
“Show us some PDA!!”
The crowd on stage burst into laughter. Director Kun, ever the smooth operator, grabbed Zhou Ziheng’s wrist and spoke into the mic, “How about this? Ziheng does a vlog for you guys, and Xiqing does a live painting session?”
“YES!!!!”
“Director, we love you!!!”
“Director is our self-study boy!”
Xia Xiqing patted Kun Cheng’s shoulder over Zhou Ziheng. “Kun Director, you’re being so unfair.”
“How is this being disloyal?” Director Kun gave the self-study girls below the stage a knowing look. “It’s what everyone wants, right?”
The crowd below the stage was beyond excited, practically threatening Zhou Ziheng with coercion if he refused. With no other choice, Zhou Ziheng gave a helpless yet indulgent smile. “Alright then. Vlog and live stream.”
“YEAH!!!!”
“Fan-pampering dream production team!!!”
The atmosphere was electric. Fans below the stage fired question after question. Honestly, witnessing this scene, Xia Xiqing standing on stage felt a bit peculiar. It was as if he were sitting in the front row, looking up at Zhou Ziheng on the stage.
The thought made him turn his face sideways. Bright, clear lights spilled over Zhou Ziheng’s face, his lashes fluttering as they touched a halo of light so beautiful it seemed like something out of a dream. Perhaps it was telepathy, but even in the noisy environment, Zhou Ziheng reacted instantly, turning his face to look at him too.
Light gathered at the nape of his neck.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” Xia Xiqing shook his head slightly.
He had simply realized how profoundly mysterious fate could be. Two people like them should never have crossed paths.
If their childhood encounter was a random event, then their second meeting at the Seagull launch event could no longer be called coincidence.
Had there been no second encounter, had he not appeared at that launch event, he would have remained forever the playboy lost in the game of life, while Zhou Ziheng would have forever cherished the memory of that paper rose lost in time.
Xia Xiqing couldn’t believe he was reminiscing.
When one begins to reminisce, it often conceals a heart that cherishes.
He never imagined he’d reach this day.
The girl studying alone carried her own microscope. Upon witnessing the two lock eyes, she immediately erupted into a chorus of shrieks like a herd of groundhogs, so engrossed in her candy that she completely failed to notice one of the protagonists staring blankly ahead.
“I have a question for Xi Qing.”
Hearing his own voice echo from the speakers, Xia Xiqing lifted his head slightly. Zhou Ziheng had already handed the microphone to him.
Xia Xiqing took the microphone, squinting slightly as he scanned the audience below. He spotted a girl who had stood up.
“Hello.” He smiled politely. The girl seemed somewhat excited, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Hi, Brother Xiqing!” She patted her chest lightly, trying to steady herself.
“I want to ask you a question. Why did you agree to star in this movie?”
Xia Xiqing’s eyes drifted downward—a small gesture he made when thinking. “Thank you for your question. Perhaps in everyone’s eyes, I’m a controversial figure. Whether it’s my personality or my family background, I share no similarities with Jiang Tong. But in truth, aside from his material deprivation, I’ve experienced everything this character has gone through.”
He could now speak of this with remarkable composure, even a hint of a smile touching his lips. “Filming this project has been a form of self-examination for me, forcing me to confront my past self.” He glanced at the director and fellow actors beside him. “Of course, everyone has given me tremendous support.”
His gaze lingered on Zhou Ziheng for a few seconds, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
This pause carried profound meaning.
The director raised his microphone. “A significant part of Xiqing being cast in this film is thanks to Ziheng. He spent a long time persuading me before Xiqing finally agreed to audition.”
Hearing this, the crowd of Xi-Zi girls below the stage erupted. Xia Xiqing felt both amused and exasperated—the director was totally selling them out.
The host stood to the side: “Any more questions?”
A boy in the audience frantically raised his hand. The director pointed at him: “The one in the blue sweater.”
The moment he got the microphone, before anyone could prepare, he shouted into it with overwhelming excitement, “Xia Xiqing, I love you!!”
Xia Xiqing was startled. He instinctively reached out and grabbed Zhou Ziheng’s shoulder beside her, laughing. Zhou Ziheng snatched the microphone from Xia Xiqing’s hand and looked sternly at the boy below the stage. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Could you say it again?”
The boy tilted his head coyly. “Xia Xiqing! I love you!!!!”
You really have the nerve to say that…
The entire venue erupted in roaring laughter, even the director and other actors joined in. Yang Bo held the microphone and laughed, “Hey! Security, someone come quick!”
The boy below froze in shock. But the next second, Yang Bo added, “Security, grab Hengheng! Don’t let him charge down there and start a fight! Hahahaha!”
The fans below went wild with mockery.
Zhou Ziheng was both furious and amused, feeling his dignity had been severely challenged. He struggled to maintain his composure as a public figure, silently repeating to himself: Don’t get angry, don’t get angry. If others get angry, I won’t. Getting sick from anger won’t help anyone. Getting angry over trivial matters…
“Xia! Xi! Qing! I—LOVE—YOU!!!!”
Zhou Ziheng: “Shut up.”
“Hahahahahahahahahahaha, so epic, man.”
“Zhou Ziheng has lost his mind, hahahahaha!!”
“Hahahahahaha Hengheng is furious! First time I’ve seen Zhou Ziheng angry, hahaha!”
“Hahahahahaha Is this a bride-snatching scene or what??”
“Hahahahaha He’s sunk so low he’s jealous of a fan, hahaha!”
“Hengheng! Take him down!!!!”
Are you guys even CP fans anymore???
Zhou Ziheng was about to speak when a slender white hand reached over and snatched the microphone from his grasp. Turning to glare at Xia Xiqing, he saw the latter stifling a laugh as he addressed the young man below the stage: “Thank you, but I really don’t think it’s necessary.”
The guy suddenly got hyped up and started confessing like crazy, “Xiqing bro!! I can totally do it! I can!!”
Xiqing bro???? Zhou Ziheng was practically fuming.
The lighting guy went and shone a green spotlight right on my head. Thanks a lot.
