Open up things from Jing Tian’s perspective
My boyfriend, Sun Yuchen
The price of one ovulation induction needle: 1,200 yuan.
The weight of $50 million in cash—I don’t know.
I’ve never seen it.
When I asked him for it over the phone at the Montaiqi Laguna Beach, I didn’t calculate the weight. I was thinking about something else: what I would do next if he said no.
He said, “Let me think.”
Since knowing him, it was the first time he had said those four words.
————
In 2011, I filmed a movie worth 150 million—"Battles of the Warring States."
Sun Honglei, Wu Zhenyu, Jin Xishan, Jiang Wu—all of them were in it. I was the leading actress.
That year I was 23.
No one asked me whether I wanted to act. No one asked whether I was prepared. Everything was arranged; I just needed to show up.
Later, the whole internet bashed me. The Golden Broom Award for the most disappointing actress. I searched my own name—on the first three pages, there wasn’t a single good word.
For ten years, one phrase followed me: resource kid.
It means: you don’t deserve it. Everything you have wasn’t earned by you. The fact that you stand there is, in itself, a mistake.
I never responded.
Not because I was magnanimous. It’s because I didn’t know what to say. Because in some parts, they were right.
————
In 2018, I was with that athlete.
He tattooed the character “Tian” on the left chest area, with “unbreakable” underneath.
The first time I saw it, I touched it with my finger. The ink was still new, and the skin was slightly raised. I thought: what does it mean when a man carves your name above his heart?
Later I found out. It means washing it off takes three to five laser sessions, with an eight-week interval each time.
In 2019, we broke up. There were many reasons, and I don’t want to say them.
After we broke up, I fell into depression. For days and nights, I couldn’t get out of my room. The curtains were drawn, the phone was off. My agent knocked on the door outside, and I didn’t open it.
One day, my mom sent me a photo. The divorce certificate.
She said, “Sweetie, Mom is free.”
When I looked at that photo, I thought for a long time. What I wasn’t thinking about was her and my dad. What I was thinking was—so a relationship ending can be something you take photos to remember.
————
In 2021, the show "The Bond" aired. I became famous. Truly, really famous. Not manufactured hot searches from resources—it was viewers who came looking for me themselves.
Someone said in the barrage of comments: “Jing Tian finally found the right path for her acting.”
When I saw that line, it was 2 a.m. in a hotel room. I was alone. I didn’t cry, and I didn’t laugh. I put my phone facedown on the bed and thought about one thing: if this show also flopped, would that mean I was completely finished?
Then I thought, actually, it wouldn’t matter. I’ve been finished so many times already.
————
On May 28, 2022, I was fined for an illegal endorsement. 7,221,200 yuan.
Illegal gains: 2,579,000. Fine: 4,642,200. I paid it all. Same day. After that, I couldn’t take on advertisements for three years.
Three years.
What does it mean for an actor to have no ad income for three years? I calculated it—adding what happened before, plus some debts I don’t want to mention—my balance was, for sure, far less than most people would imagine.
“An abundance flower of the human world.”
When I see these four words online, sometimes I laugh.
————
In autumn 2025, someone introduced me to Sun Ge.
I knew of him. Tron, cryptocurrency, Forbes cover. Born in 1990, from Qinghai, Peking University, Penn.
Whom I didn’t know was that in 2007 he added me as a friend on Campus Network.
Later he told me. He said he wrote a 40-minute message, and in the end he sent two words: “Hello.”
I didn’t approve.
I really had never used Campus Network. That year I was 19, having just finished filming my first movie. Every day on set—from morning to night. I didn’t know there was a boy at Peking University’s dormitory who hesitated for 40 minutes over my photo.
When he talked about it, we were sitting on the sofa in the Guerlain Hotel. His expression was calm, like he was recounting a case that had already passed the statute of limitations.
I looked at him and wanted to say something. But I realized I didn’t have any matching story to reply with. In 2007, no one left messages for me online to make my heart race. In 2007, my world only had cameras, lines, and a name I couldn’t mention.
I said, “So you waited for so long.”
He said, “Eighteen years.”
I didn’t respond.
————
On the day we met at the Guerlain Hotel, he took me to see a banana.
By Cattelan. The kind pasted on a wall.
I asked, “How much is it?”
He said, “Six hundred twenty thousand dollars.”
I looked for a long time. A real banana, taped to a white wall with gray tape. What I thought was: this banana would develop spots in three days, rot in a week. After it rotted, all that would remain on that wall would be a strip of tape.
I said, “Then what if it rots?”
He went silent.
I said, “Forget it. Let’s go watch a movie.”
I said, “No one should be in the screening hall.”
He went out to make a call.
Later I found out he had his assistant buy all the tickets for the entire theater. The tickets that had already been sold—someone was sent to retrieve them one by one at the entrance, and they were paid cash. There was a kid holding popcorn who was turned away outside. The adult accepted the money, then led the child away.
Twenty-six people.
When I didn’t know about it, I felt that the movie was quiet. And that it was good.
After I found out, I thought of something else: when that kid went home, would he ask his parents, “Why can’t we watch anymore?”
How would the adults answer?
After the movie, I changed my WeChat profile picture to Officer Judy.
————
That night, he touched me. His fingernails dug into me and it hurt.
I didn’t say “don’t.” I told him to put his hand over here.
I took a nail file from my bag and filed his nails one by one. Coarse grit to shape, finer grit to polish—then the last side, moving in one direction only, not back and forth.
Ten fingers—almost an hour.
He asked, “How long will it take?”
I said, “Until it won’t hurt the person anymore.”
When I was done, I flipped his hands over and looked.
I said, “Okay. You can touch wherever you want.”
In the middle, I said something. I said, “If one day I’m no longer here, then no one will polish your nails anymore.”
I said that line because...
Source: @Cycle_King1913 on X
My boyfriend, Sun Yuchen
The price of one ovulation induction needle: 1,200 yuan.
The weight of $50 million in cash—I don’t know.
I’ve never seen it.
When I asked him for it over the phone at the Montaiqi Laguna Beach, I didn’t calculate the weight. I was thinking about something else: what I would do next if he said no.
He said, “Let me think.”
Since knowing him, it was the first time he had said those four words.
————
In 2011, I filmed a movie worth 150 million—"Battles of the Warring States."
Sun Honglei, Wu Zhenyu, Jin Xishan, Jiang Wu—all of them were in it. I was the leading actress.
That year I was 23.
No one asked me whether I wanted to act. No one asked whether I was prepared. Everything was arranged; I just needed to show up.
Later, the whole internet bashed me. The Golden Broom Award for the most disappointing actress. I searched my own name—on the first three pages, there wasn’t a single good word.
For ten years, one phrase followed me: resource kid.
It means: you don’t deserve it. Everything you have wasn’t earned by you. The fact that you stand there is, in itself, a mistake.
I never responded.
Not because I was magnanimous. It’s because I didn’t know what to say. Because in some parts, they were right.
————
In 2018, I was with that athlete.
He tattooed the character “Tian” on the left chest area, with “unbreakable” underneath.
The first time I saw it, I touched it with my finger. The ink was still new, and the skin was slightly raised. I thought: what does it mean when a man carves your name above his heart?
Later I found out. It means washing it off takes three to five laser sessions, with an eight-week interval each time.
In 2019, we broke up. There were many reasons, and I don’t want to say them.
After we broke up, I fell into depression. For days and nights, I couldn’t get out of my room. The curtains were drawn, the phone was off. My agent knocked on the door outside, and I didn’t open it.
One day, my mom sent me a photo. The divorce certificate.
She said, “Sweetie, Mom is free.”
When I looked at that photo, I thought for a long time. What I wasn’t thinking about was her and my dad. What I was thinking was—so a relationship ending can be something you take photos to remember.
————
In 2021, the show "The Bond" aired. I became famous. Truly, really famous. Not manufactured hot searches from resources—it was viewers who came looking for me themselves.
Someone said in the barrage of comments: “Jing Tian finally found the right path for her acting.”
When I saw that line, it was 2 a.m. in a hotel room. I was alone. I didn’t cry, and I didn’t laugh. I put my phone facedown on the bed and thought about one thing: if this show also flopped, would that mean I was completely finished?
Then I thought, actually, it wouldn’t matter. I’ve been finished so many times already.
————
On May 28, 2022, I was fined for an illegal endorsement. 7,221,200 yuan.
Illegal gains: 2,579,000. Fine: 4,642,200. I paid it all. Same day. After that, I couldn’t take on advertisements for three years.
Three years.
What does it mean for an actor to have no ad income for three years? I calculated it—adding what happened before, plus some debts I don’t want to mention—my balance was, for sure, far less than most people would imagine.
“An abundance flower of the human world.”
When I see these four words online, sometimes I laugh.
————
In autumn 2025, someone introduced me to Sun Ge.
I knew of him. Tron, cryptocurrency, Forbes cover. Born in 1990, from Qinghai, Peking University, Penn.
Whom I didn’t know was that in 2007 he added me as a friend on Campus Network.
Later he told me. He said he wrote a 40-minute message, and in the end he sent two words: “Hello.”
I didn’t approve.
I really had never used Campus Network. That year I was 19, having just finished filming my first movie. Every day on set—from morning to night. I didn’t know there was a boy at Peking University’s dormitory who hesitated for 40 minutes over my photo.
When he talked about it, we were sitting on the sofa in the Guerlain Hotel. His expression was calm, like he was recounting a case that had already passed the statute of limitations.
I looked at him and wanted to say something. But I realized I didn’t have any matching story to reply with. In 2007, no one left messages for me online to make my heart race. In 2007, my world only had cameras, lines, and a name I couldn’t mention.
I said, “So you waited for so long.”
He said, “Eighteen years.”
I didn’t respond.
————
On the day we met at the Guerlain Hotel, he took me to see a banana.
By Cattelan. The kind pasted on a wall.
I asked, “How much is it?”
He said, “Six hundred twenty thousand dollars.”
I looked for a long time. A real banana, taped to a white wall with gray tape. What I thought was: this banana would develop spots in three days, rot in a week. After it rotted, all that would remain on that wall would be a strip of tape.
I said, “Then what if it rots?”
He went silent.
I said, “Forget it. Let’s go watch a movie.”
I said, “No one should be in the screening hall.”
He went out to make a call.
Later I found out he had his assistant buy all the tickets for the entire theater. The tickets that had already been sold—someone was sent to retrieve them one by one at the entrance, and they were paid cash. There was a kid holding popcorn who was turned away outside. The adult accepted the money, then led the child away.
Twenty-six people.
When I didn’t know about it, I felt that the movie was quiet. And that it was good.
After I found out, I thought of something else: when that kid went home, would he ask his parents, “Why can’t we watch anymore?”
How would the adults answer?
After the movie, I changed my WeChat profile picture to Officer Judy.
————
That night, he touched me. His fingernails dug into me and it hurt.
I didn’t say “don’t.” I told him to put his hand over here.
I took a nail file from my bag and filed his nails one by one. Coarse grit to shape, finer grit to polish—then the last side, moving in one direction only, not back and forth.
Ten fingers—almost an hour.
He asked, “How long will it take?”
I said, “Until it won’t hurt the person anymore.”
When I was done, I flipped his hands over and looked.
I said, “Okay. You can touch wherever you want.”
In the middle, I said something. I said, “If one day I’m no longer here, then no one will polish your nails anymore.”
I said that line because...
Source: @Cycle_King1913 on X