Chapter 26: The Filming Wrapped Up
Lu Xu was staring blankly at the contact list on his phone.
The key was that the crew had introduced him to a group of highly reliable managers. They weren’t the type to scatter their nets widely with empty titles, but rather professional agents with genuine industry experience and the ability to understand scripts.
In the entertainment industry, these agents weren’t as famous as those so-called “renowned” managers whose names fans incessantly shouted about and who deserved a hundred metaphorical executions. Back when Lu Xu was still in Verse, their manager had consistently topped fans’ “hit list.”
Some managers excelled in marketing, while others specialized in crisis management. However, Lu Xu preferred versatile and professional managers. With their support, he could fully focus on his acting career.
Cheng Yun complained to Guo Yining, “Old Xu is really something. I’ve introduced actors to him before, but he wouldn’t even acknowledge them. And yet, he just added Lu Xu on WeChat!”
Guo Yining and Cheng Yun were signed to the same talent agency.
Their agency had its share of accomplished A-list actors and actresses, as well as a few rising stars in the entertainment industry. Seeing others succeed certainly made them envious, but as supporting actors, they weren’t doing so badly that they couldn’t make a living.
At the very least, Guo Yining and Cheng Yun were content with their current situation. They would take on roles when available and enjoy their personal lives when they weren’t working. Their managers always managed to find them roles they were willing to take on.
Neither of them knew what kind of life Lu Xu envisioned for himself. They had simply made a recommendation. Which talent agency Lu Xu would ultimately choose would likely be closely tied to his future career trajectory.
Guo Yining whispered to Cheng Yun, “How did you pitch him?”
Xu Wen was one of their agency’s star managers, known for his discerning eye. Guo Yining guessed that Cheng Yun must have heaped so much praise on Lu Xu and even vouched for him with his own acting career to convince Xu Wen to consider signing Lu Xu under his wing.
“I’ve saved one of our drama stills on my phone,” Cheng Yun said. “And I even have a photo of Lu Xu in person. He agreed before I took it.”
“And Xu Wen just said yes?”
Cheng Yun nodded lightly.
Guo Yining initially wanted to say it was impossible, but when he turned and saw Lu Xu’s strikingly handsome face—even without makeup—he let out a soft sigh.
This face-obsessed world was truly despair-inducing.
Now, he understood why Xu Wen was willing to sign Lu Xu. Their agency mostly represented seasoned and talented actors. Among the younger generation, the company’s promoted talents were also known for their acting skills.
However, it was common knowledge that “talent-driven” and “idol-driven” camps were often at odds. While their agency’s rookies had decent acting reputations, they significantly lagged in public attention.
Xu Wen’s interest in signing Lu Xu likely stemmed from strategic considerations in this area.
Of course, this was also why Cheng Yun and the others had strongly recommended Lu Xu.
They weren’t new to the entertainment industry. With Lu Xu’s looks, if this were twenty years ago, he would’ve been signed by an agency right after graduation. Back in the day, many of the hottest young stars didn’t even have Lu Xu’s level of acting ability!
And Lu Xu could act so well on top of that!
If he had already signed with an agency, it would’ve been one thing. But since he hadn’t, wouldn’t it make sense to snatch him up quickly?
Guo Yining asked in confusion, “I can’t wrap my head around it. Why did Lin Ge Entertainment insist on kicking Lu Xu out?”
From their time working together on set, Guo Yining didn’t think Lu Xu had a difficult personality. He wasn’t aloof or prone to throwing tantrums, and he was much easier to work with than many young actors they’d encountered before.
Cheng Yun pondered for a moment. “Maybe Lin Ge Entertainment has actors with even better prospects?”
Guo Yining looked at him. “…Gu Si Nian?”
Cheng Yun: “…”
The two exchanged a wordless glance and ultimately chose to remain silent.
…
After the Spring Examination Scandal and the Shaanxi Disaster Relief Grain Case, Crown Prince Qin Zhao became much more reserved.
However, the events at court stirred rebellious thoughts within him. His father, the emperor, wanted to depose him, but he had been the crown prince for decades. One could say that, aside from being the crown prince, he had no other role or purpose.
A minister could dedicate himself wholeheartedly to the empire, but as the crown prince, Qin Zhao couldn’t. Any step he took toward ambition was seen as a challenge to his father’s authority—a defiance, a betrayal, a deceit.
What else could he do? Not be the crown prince?
It wasn’t that he wanted the position; it was that he couldn’t avoid it. Even if he relinquished the title, his father wouldn’t allow it, and his brothers wouldn’t spare him. Furthermore, he wasn’t alone—he had his maternal uncle and grandfather. These people would inevitably fight to protect his position as crown prince.
If he gave up being the crown prince and didn’t carve out a path for himself, could these people survive?
For the first time, Qin Zhao’s weak-willed nature gave rise to dark intentions.
In their daily scenes together, Lu Xu followed the script closely, portraying a Qin Zhao who gradually became corrupted.
However, Qin Zhao’s descent into malevolence didn’t equate to newfound cleverness. From the outset, his rebellion was doomed to fail.
Lu Xu meticulously portrayed Qin Zhao’s transformation, bit by bit. At his core, Qin Zhao remained weak. While his brothers showcased their talents in court or proved their mettle on the battlefield, he, as the crown prince, resorted to the pettiest, most despicable tactics.
When his rebellion was exposed, Emperor Cheng was furious.
But—it was the emperor who had pushed Qin Zhao down this irredeemable path, step by step.
If Liu Chunfeng were to describe Lu Xu’s portrayal of Qin Zhao during this period, he could only think of one word: inevitability.
The script conveyed Qin Zhao’s end as a tragic inevitability, and Lu Xu’s performance imbued it with an even stronger sense of fate.
The crown prince wasn’t evil from the beginning; he rotted away little by little.
Emperor Cheng, the wise and formidable ruler, ultimately left his eldest legitimate son with a lifelong, irreparable shadow.
…
On the day of the audition, Lu Xu’s second scene was the confrontation between the father and son after the crown prince’s deposition.
It was also his final scene with the Son of Heaven production team.
As the storyline of Son of Heaven progressed, Lu Xu’s makeup and styling became increasingly mature. Yet no matter what appearance the makeup artists created, Lu Xu always matched his acting to the character’s stage in life.
In other words, however old Qin Zhao was supposed to be, Lu Xu made everyone believe he was that age.
Before this scene, Guo Yining and the others worried that Lu Xu might not be able to carry it. It was a moment of intense emotional turbulence for Qin Zhao, requiring a deeply charged performance.
Cheng Yun, however, appeared completely at ease. “Don’t worry. We’ve practiced this scene once before.”
With Liu Chunfeng’s command of “Action,” father and son began their clash—one filled with disappointment, the other with despair. One sought to impose authority, while the other mercilessly exposed his father’s hypocrisy.
Because he was the crown prince, he understood!
The coldness and mockery in Qin Zhao’s gaze were so piercing that even the onlookers—the other actors on set—felt frozen in place.
Guo Yining and the others had seen Lu Xu perform countless times. They knew how well he embodied Qin Zhao, and there had even been occasions where his performance had helped them immerse themselves in their roles when their own acting fell short.
But in this scene, Lu Xu delivered a Qin Zhao beyond anything they had imagined.
This “Crown Prince” Qin Zhao, stripped of his title and disgraced in historical records, seemed to have condensed his resentment into a tangible force.
Qin Zhao was a person—not someone who could be simplified into a few dismissive lines in the annals of history. The world only knew him as foolish and ignorant, eclipsed by the achievements of his brother, who succeeded the throne. Yet if anyone were to trade places with him, they would undoubtedly understand his pain and bitterness.
Holding the position of crown prince, being foolish and weak was a mistake, but being too clever was also a mistake.
It was merely a matter of having no choice.
“Cut!”
As soon as the scene ended, Lu Xu took a deep breath.
He had poured so much energy into the performance just now that he felt short of breath.
He believed that this take was much better than his earlier audition. Back then, he had only received a portion of the script and had to interpret the character and perform based on his understanding alone.
Now it was different. He had read the entire script and fully immersed himself in Qin Zhao’s life as written.
He now understood Qin Zhao’s anger and resentment many times more deeply than before.
During this scene, Lu Xu felt as though he had become the embodiment of Qin Zhao. All the character’s bitterness and coldness weren’t directed at Cheng Yun, his co-actor, but rather at the father emperor Qin Zhao was confronting.
This scene had drained him.
Of course, Lu Xu wasn’t the only one feeling that way.
Cheng Yun, still catching his breath, noticed Guo Yining watching with a knowing grin. He rolled his eyes at his long-time colleague. “You want to try it?”
“I’ll pass on that suffering,” Guo Yining replied with a laugh. “I’ve never seen you work so hard before.”
“That’s because you’re not playing this character. If you were, you’d get it,” Cheng Yun shot back.
Back during the audition, Lu Xu’s performance had already left Cheng Yun in awe. Now, that sense of awe was even stronger. Lu Xu had unleashed his emotions fully, and Cheng Yun could only follow his lead.
After all, if the son was baring his most genuine emotions, how could the father fail to respond?
Still, it had exhausted him.
For some reason, Cheng Yun had a gut feeling that Son of Heaven would perform better than he had initially expected.
Though his instincts often proved wrong.
But…
If Son of Heaven didn’t achieve the success it deserved, how could it possibly do justice to the emotionally intense performances they had just delivered?
While Lu Xu was still catching his breath, Liu Chunfeng emerged from behind the monitor and gave him a hearty slap on the back.
Lu Xu winced in pain. “Director, you didn’t actually train as a boxer, did you?”
Liu Chunfeng maintained a deadpan expression. “…No.”
Why did everyone think he looked like a boxing coach?
The director conveniently forgot that he had once been mistaken for a butcher at a wet market.
He chose to let it slide.
“You did great,” Liu Chunfeng said, his perpetually stern face finally breaking into a smile. “Really great.”
Casting Lu Xu as Qin Zhao might have been the best decision Liu Chunfeng had ever made.
In the first few days of shooting, as Lu Xu filmed his initial scenes, Liu Chunfeng had already felt confident in his choice. As Qin Zhao’s storyline progressed, Lu Xu’s performance became increasingly exceptional, exceeding the director’s expectations day by day.
Lu Xu thought that with Qin Zhao’s scenes wrapped up, he would be heading straight home.
At this point, in the Son of Heaven production, only Cheng Yun had a few scenes left to shoot. Guo Yining’s character, the Grand Chancellor, had exited the story long ago. He was still hanging around the set purely to accompany Cheng Yun on a planned post-shoot vacation.
Unexpectedly, Liu Chunfeng led Lu Xu next door, calling out loudly, “Old Jiang, I’ve brought you someone. Take a look and see if he works.”
“And even if he doesn’t, you’d better pay Xiao Lu his full day’s wages. No shortchanging.”
Liu Chunfeng then turned to Lu Xu and explained, “This is the Supreme production next door. Their actor for the Demon Lord role has run off, so I brought you over to test for it.”
“Jiang Wangshu has been spying on our set for almost half a month. I don’t even know how he managed to sneak in. He’s been eyeing you, trying to poach you. I had to block him from taking you away.”
When Director Jiang appeared, Lu Xu couldn’t help but compare him to Director Liu. With Liu Chunfeng’s build resembling that of a boxing coach and Jiang Wangshu’s frail, ginger-like physique, Lu Xu found his director’s words somewhat unconvincing.
In summary, the Demon Lord actor had bailed, Director Jiang had been coveting Lu Xu, and now he was making an attempt to poach him.
Director Liu objected, stating that if anyone were to “sell” him, it would have to be him personally doing the selling.
Liu Chunfeng sighed, “…Your interpretation takes all the fun out of it.”
Though, admittedly, the logic wasn’t far off.
Jiang Wangshu first noticed Lu Xu by chance when he visited the Son of Heaven set.
He and Liu Chunfeng were acquainted, and during the filming of Son of Heaven, Director Jiang had stopped by to catch up with Director Liu.
At that time, Jiang Wangshu had thought Lu Xu would be perfect for the role of the Demon Lord, Ji Xiuya. But since the role had already been cast, there was no reason for him to approach Lu Xu.
As fate would have it, however, the actor playing the Demon Lord breached his contract midway through filming, leaving to take on another role. Meanwhile, Lu Xu had just wrapped up his scenes in Son of Heaven.
Jiang Wangshu pleaded endlessly with Liu Chunfeng to bring Lu Xu over for a test. Director Liu, ever cryptic, didn’t bother explaining the situation to Lu Xu before hauling the utterly confused actor to the Supreme set.
Jiang Wangshu muttered under his breath, “You must’ve boxed your brains out.”
Liu Chunfeng shot back, “Stinky Jiang, you’re as fiery as ever. What a temper.”
Hmm