From Web Novel to Silver Screen: “Jìng Shānshuǐ” Exemplifies China’s Idol‑Driven Romance Trend and Censorship Tightrope

The source material, a modern romance titled Jìng Shānshuǐ (敬山水), was penned by the internet author known as Bié Sì Wèi (别四为). Serialized on the popular Jinjiang Literature City site, the story wrapped up its online run in June 2021 before being released in hard‑cover form by China Friendship Publishing in December 2022. Its premise is deceptively simple: on his wedding day, protagonist Xu Zhengqing receives a red envelope bearing eight characters—“山水一程，三生有幸” (“A journey of mountains and rivers, three lives of good fortune”). That small, cryptic gesture unspools a tale of unrequited love told largely from a female perspective, a narrative that has earned it a reputation as a “tear‑jerker” that often leaves readers reaching for tissues.

The novel’s quiet emotional resonance has found new life on social media, where fans routinely quote its poignant lines and recommend it as a must‑read for anyone who enjoys “quiet, unrequited affection.” Recent spikes in mentions on TikTok and Weibo appear linked to rumors of a film adaptation, a development that has turned a modestly popular web novel into a cultural touchstone for a generation of digital readers.

According to industry sources, the movie—also to be titled Jìng Shānshuǐ—will be helmed by director Chen Yìfū, best known for the crime thriller The Silent Truth. The project’s supervising producer, Xu Yùzhēn (许月珍), brings a pedigree that includes the critically acclaimed Better Days, suggesting that the studio is aiming for a production that balances commercial appeal with a degree of artistic seriousness.

The casting choices have ignited the most fervent conversation online. The film will star Li Gēngxǐ, an actress often referred to as a “film queen” in Chinese entertainment circles, opposite Song Yàxuān, a teen idol whose fan base stretches across music, variety shows and, increasingly, the big screen. Posts on Weibo celebrate the pairing, with fans exclaiming, “It’s so cool to be a male lead in a movie right at the start of your career… Song Yaxuan partnering with film queen Li Gengxi for Jìng Shānshuǐ, rumored to begin shooting in September.” The hashtags #敬山水# and #敬山水李庚希宋亚轩# have already trended, and fan‑made video edits are being shared as “vitamin C” for eager followers.

The timing of the adaptation aligns with a broader industry trend: Chinese studios are actively mining the vast reservoir of online literature for screen‑ready material. Web novels, especially those that have cultivated loyal readerships, provide a built‑in audience that can translate into box‑office ticket sales. Yet the Jìng Shānshuǐ project also illustrates how producers must negotiate the idiosyncrasies of the “idol economy.” Song Yaxuan’s fan community, which is accustomed to his clean‑cut image, would likely balk at any overtly intimate scenes. Reports that the source novel is a “BE” (bad ending) romance with minimal explicit content seem to play nicely into this calculus, allowing the film to stay within the comfortable boundaries preferred by both fans and censors.

Censorship, while rarely discussed openly, is an ever‑present undercurrent in Chinese filmmaking. The intentional avoidance of “intimate scenes” may be as much a pragmatic step toward securing a smooth approval process from the State Administration of Press, Publication, Radio, Film and Television as it is a strategic move to protect the idol’s marketability. In a market where the government’s cultural guidelines increasingly favor stories that promote positive values, personal struggle and social harmony, a romance that emphasizes “quiet, unrequited affection” fits comfortably within the permissible narrative framework.

If the film succeeds, it could reinforce the viability of adapting nuanced, emotionally driven romances rather than the high‑octane action spectacles that have traditionally dominated Chinese box offices. Moreover, the involvement of a director like Chen Yìfū and a producer with a track record of award‑winning drama may raise the production standards for future adaptations, encouraging studios to invest more heavily in script development and talent recruitment.

Beyond the boardroom, the project’s potential cultural impact is significant. The original novel’s emphasis on personal destiny—encapsulated in the phrase “山水一程，三生有幸”—resonates with younger Chinese audiences who are navigating a rapidly changing social landscape. By translating that lyrical sentiment into a visual medium, Jìng Shānshuǐ could shape contemporary perceptions of love, sacrifice and the bittersweet nature of fate. The film may also act as a conduit for Chinese storytelling to reach international viewers, especially as streaming platforms increasingly seek subtitled or dubbed Asian content for global markets.

As of now, the details remain sketchy. Filming is reportedly set to commence in September, with no official release date announced. Yet the excitement rippling through online fan forums and the strategic alignment of star power, production talent and market trends suggest that this adaptation is more than just a niche project—it is a barometer of where Chinese popular culture is heading in the era of digital literature, idol fandom and state‑guided content creation.

In the months ahead, observers will be watching not only whether Jìng Shānshuǐ meets box‑office expectations, but also how it navigates the delicate balance between artistic intent, fan service and regulatory compliance. If it does, the film could become a case study in the evolving symbiosis between China’s online reading community and its cinematic ambitions, proving that even a humble red envelope on a wedding day can launch a story into the national spotlight.