Chapter 34: Get him on board!
In truth, Mu Qian didn’t have the audition videos from the Rising Sun production team.
As a director who had been dismissed from the project, why would he keep such videos? But one day, when Mu Qian turned on his computer, he discovered a neatly arranged row of videos on his desktop.
Mu Qian suspected that someone in the production team had made a mistake.
He first reached out to his acquaintances from the Rising Sun production team. Although the team had changed directors, the lineup of crew members remained mostly the same. Mu Qian chose to contact the assistant director, Chen Changyin, first.
In truth, Mu Qian didn’t particularly like Chen Changyin. He felt that the man’s personality was too slick, and he tended to go with the flow. Chen Changyin showed one face to investors and directors and another to those of lower status.
However, since Chen Changyin wasn’t part of Mu Qian’s direct team and had closer ties to Lin Ge Entertainment, Mu Qian had always tolerated him.
What Mu Qian didn’t expect was that this time, when he approached Chen Changyin, he had the chance to see yet another side of the man.
“How could anything from our production team end up with you? Impossible!”
Before Mu Qian even had a chance to utter the word “video,” Chen Changyin had already decisively denied everything. He even subtly implied that Mu Qian might have stolen something when he left the team.
“Director Mu, since you’re no longer the director of Rising Sun, there’s no need for you to concern yourself with matters of the production team. If Director Xiao Bo finds out, he won’t be happy about it.”
Mu Qian: “…”
He wasn’t sure if Xiao Bo would be upset, but he was certain that he himself wasn’t very pleased.
The video remained on Mu Qian’s computer to this day. He worried that the production team might not have a backup and that it would cause problems if they needed the files but couldn’t find them.
As it turned out… the Rising Sun production team never ended up needing them. Instead, he was the one who used them first.
The audition videos Mu Qian released showcased the acting skills of the Rising Sun production team in the most… straightforward way possible.
[…What the hell is this? It’s so cringe I can feel my secondhand embarrassment flaring up.]
[Don’t tell me Gu Sinian got the role based on this performance. Is Lin Ge Entertainment seriously calling this fair and impartial?]
[Now I believe the rumors that Gu Sinian hired three acting coaches. His performance in the show is indeed better than this.]
[…Which makes me really curious—why was Lu Xu rejected?]
Even though the audition videos were only short clips, the stark contrast in acting abilities between the actors was painfully obvious.
In the scene where Wu Shen tells his mother about his dreams, Li Li’s performance had already been criticized by many viewers. They felt his acting in that scene was stiff, utterly unconvincing, and emotionally disconnected. While he delivered his lines about his aspirations with passion, there was no tenderness toward his mother. It was as if he were performing opposite a block of wood.
It was too cold, too detached—as if Li Li was merely playing himself, while Wu Shen was a completely separate person with no relation to him.
Netizens even edited Li Li and Lu Xu’s performances side by side in the same video. Though both actors spoke the same lines, their impact was worlds apart.
Just by looking into Lu Xu’s eyes, one could feel the glimmer of hope and determination that defined the youth of that era.
Even though Li Li was dressed in a full costume and surrounded by a lavish set, while Lu Xu had nothing behind him but a plain white wall, Lu Xu’s performance outshone his in every way.
[My only relief is that Wu Shen wasn’t played by You Zichen. That would’ve been a complete disaster.]
[No, that would’ve been actual [sht].]
[I’ve always thought young actors couldn’t truly be judged by their acting skills, but Lu Xu… He’s genuinely talented. His recent role as Qin Zhao was also outstanding.]
[+1, +1, +1.]
With Lu Xu as a comparison, the ridicule directed at Li Li grew even harsher. However, Gu Sinian’s exaggerated facial expressions and poorly memorized lines during his audition also left onlookers speechless.
[Does Verse really have no one else capable of pursuing an acting career? They had to push him?]
[They do. Isn’t Lu Xu right there? Oh, but he doesn’t want to stoop to their level.]
…
Lu Xu was completely baffled by how the entire situation had unfolded.
But he did remember that the last time his failed audition had been exposed, it was Mu Qian who had suddenly stepped in to take the heat. He directly faced the onslaught from Gu Sinian and You Zichen’s fans, enduring their furious attacks.
The battle had been intense.
One had to admit, Director Mu was a warrior.
However, Lu Xu could tell that Mu Qian’s actions were ultimately to support Jin Mu.
“Jin Mu isn’t writing a script for the first time. Everyone in the industry knows the quality of his work,” Cheng Yun said. “Have you seen Rising Sun? I feel like the pacing of the series is off. The later episodes were edited so messily, and on top of that, a few of the actors performed particularly poorly. It all compounded into one big problem.”
The crew of Son of Heaven was attending an event hosted by Cloud Film that day. Liu Chunfeng and Cheng Yun had specifically called Lu Xu to join them.
Cheng Yun, known for his tact and professionalism, rarely made critical remarks. For him to say that some actors had performed “particularly poorly” was already an extremely strong statement.
That said, Rising Sun was Son of Heaven’s direct competitor.
During the period when Son of Heaven’s data was lackluster, Cheng Yun was constantly under fire from marketing accounts. Some mocked him for being unable to carry the show, others suggested he should stop chasing lead roles at his age, and a few even praised the quality of Son of Heaven but claimed the wrong lead actor had been chosen.
Cheng Yun was well aware that these trending posts were most likely bought by Lin Ge Entertainment.
Since his younger years, Cheng Yun had starred in numerous dramas, but each one had performed modestly in terms of viewership, leaving him with a lingering sense of inadequacy.
He often questioned himself: Was he simply unfit to play lead roles? What was wrong with him?
Yet, even under such circumstances, after a decade, Liu Chunfeng still invited him to play the role of Emperor Cheng in Son of Heaven. In this drama, Emperor Cheng was the sole central figure.
Liu Chunfeng didn’t care about Cheng Yun’s lack of popularity or the fact that none of his lead roles had ever propelled him to stardom. Even when Son of Heaven initially struggled to gain traction and the public was questioning Cheng Yun’s capabilities, Liu Chunfeng never once blamed him. Instead, he encouraged Cheng Yun to maintain a calm and steady mindset.
The more understanding Liu Chunfeng was, the guiltier Cheng Yun felt.
At the peak of this guilt, Lin Ge Entertainment’s sponsored trending posts felt like one stab to his heart after another.
Fortunately, he finally had a chance to fight back.
Son of Heaven’s popularity initially climbed to 7,000, then gradually rose to 8,000 and 9,000—the latter being the threshold for a true hit series. Audiences began discussing the plot, the grand and tumultuous life of Emperor Cheng, and the performances of the cast.
In his decades-long acting career, Cheng Yun had never received this much attention before.
But what truly delighted him wasn’t just the success of Son of Heaven. It was the weight that had suddenly been lifted from his chest—a burden he had carried for years.
“Old Cheng, you’re just too easygoing,” Guo Yining remarked, glancing at Cheng Yun. “It’s so obvious they’re shifting the blame, trying to pin everything on Jin Mu. But who doesn’t know Xiao Bo’s personality? Would he ever let Jin Mu interfere?”
Every director had their own way of working. In Son of Heaven’s production team, while the script was written by Qin Yu, the finer details during filming were hammered out collaboratively by the director, the writer, and the actors. If their interpretations of the script ever clashed, Qin Yu’s opinion would ultimately take precedence.
After all, the person who wrote the script would naturally understand it best.
Some directors, however, were not like Liu Chunfeng in their approach. They were far more domineering, refusing to allow scriptwriters any involvement beyond their initial work, treating them like mere tools.
Xiao Bo’s personality was inherently overbearing, and being hired by Lin Ge Entertainment only amplified his authority. The company, afraid that he might abandon the project, rarely imposed any restrictions on him. As a result, Xiao Bo’s dominance was particularly evident in the Rising Sun production team.
Cheng Yun and the others didn’t believe for a second that Jin Mu should take the blame for the failure of Rising Sun.
Jin Mu probably had very little say in the production.
After discussing Rising Sun for a while, the group shifted to eating and drinking, celebrating the success of Son of Heaven. Lu Xu was seated next to Liu Chunfeng, which the others jokingly claimed was a privilege for the younger generation.
Lu Xu: “…”
Did these people think he couldn’t hear them?
Before the meal even began, they had already been strategizing about how to avoid sitting next to Liu Chunfeng. The director, with his boxer-like physique, had a habit of enthusiastically patting people on the shoulder when in a good mood.
“It really hurts,” someone said.
“My old bones can’t handle it. Let the younger folks sit there.”
Unfortunately for Lu Xu, there wasn’t a “younger folks.” He was the only young one present.
Lu Xu thought to himself: the director wasn’t a boxing coach—he trained at the Shaolin Temple and had practiced iron palm techniques.
Too bad the Olympics didn’t have an iron palm competition.
As the meal was wrapping up, Lu Xu was debating whether or not to join the follow-up activities when Cheng Yun and Guo Yining waved him over.
The group moved to a small private room nearby. Before the door closed, the last person to enter was an unfamiliar face.
The newcomer introduced himself as Xu Wen, a talent agent from Feiyang Entertainment.
It was then that Lu Xu remembered he might already have Xu Wen’s WeChat contact. After Son of Heaven aired, the number of talent agencies wanting to sign him had doubled. Lu Xu had even made a detailed list, comparing the pros and cons of each company.
Some companies excelled at marketing, like Lin Ge Entertainment. However, Lu Xu didn’t even need to consider such firms—they were an automatic pass.
Then there were companies with strong commercial and fashion resources. While their talent rosters often boasted flashy titles, their actual achievements were underwhelming, leaving them unable to support their artists in a meaningful way.
These companies typically fell short when it came to film and television resources.
As for those companies that pressured their actors to star in low-quality in-house productions with limited external opportunities, they weren’t even on Lu Xu’s radar.
In the end, despite how glamorous these talent agencies appeared on the surface, the list of viable options was remarkably short. Feiyang Entertainment was one of the few exceptions.
Both Cheng Yun and Guo Yining were signed with Feiyang.
Seeing these two older actors still landing high-quality roles at their age spoke volumes about the company’s capabilities.
After Son of Heaven became a hit, Cheng Yun’s offers for new roles multiplied. While his pay hadn’t doubled, it had reached the highest point in his career.
He had even landed a few new endorsement deals—something far rarer in his decades-long career than film roles.
Despite these opportunities, Cheng Yun wasn’t in a rush to accept new projects. He firmly believed that the popularity of Son of Heaven would continue to rise.
Xu Wen, the talent agent, was eager to sign Lu Xu.
In fact, Xu Wen had been considering this during the filming of Son of Heaven. Back then, he hadn’t even seen Lu Xu’s performance—he’d only heard about him through the glowing remarks of Cheng Yun and Guo Yining.
However, someone like Lu Xu was exactly the type of talent Feiyang Entertainment currently lacked.
Xu Wen had wanted to secure a contract with Lu Xu early on, but Lu Xu insisted on waiting until Son of Heaven finished airing.
At the time, Xu Wen didn’t think much of it. If Lu Xu wanted to wait, he’d wait—it wasn’t a big deal.
But then, Son of Heaven exploded in popularity, and Lu Xu, who played Qin Zhao, began appearing in the spotlight more and more.
Everyone knew the truth: he had the looks, the acting skills, and the buzz to back it up.
To date, Lu Xu had only acted in two dramas: My Baby Prince, which ranked in the top five of the annual popularity charts, and Son of Heaven, which broke the decade-long record for viewership of historical dramas.
It had only been a “short wait,” but in that time, Xu Wen realized that his competition for Lu Xu had doubled.
Some companies in the industry were notoriously aggressive when it came to poaching talent, even offering astronomical signing bonuses.
Xu Wen knew he couldn’t afford to hesitate any longer. He enlisted Cheng Yun and Guo Yining to help create an opportunity, arranging a meeting with Lu Xu.
He was determined to secure him. Get him on board!
