Chapter 89: Movie Offers

Even over a month after the release of Lu Xu’s issue of NF, the magazine showed no signs of promoting Zhang Che. A search for his name on NF’s official account would pull up nothing recent—the last post related to him was from four or five years ago.

That was when Zhang Che had first appeared on NF’s subcover. Back then, his fans had bought out the entire print run, setting a record for domestic sales since NF’s local launch.

At that time, his fans were filled with confidence, firmly believing that Zhang Che was destined to rise to the very top among leading young actors.

The subcover was supposed to be just the beginning. They were certain Zhang Che would eventually unlock all four major magazines and become a true superstar.

But even though he made it onto NF, that particular issue never hit the stands. Even after securing the title of M-brand spokesperson—the highest honor offered by such a luxury brand—Zhang Che’s career trajectory hadn’t unfolded as fans had hoped. Instead of the unstoppable momentum they’d envisioned, his career seemed to stagnate, leaving them feeling stifled.

There was still Director Zhang Zhizhen’s film to look forward to, though.

[Do you think The Swordsman will be a hit? Something about the latest behind-the-scenes leaks doesn’t feel right.]

[I thought so too…]

[Even Director Zhang hasn’t mentioned Zhang Che much recently.]

Even Zhang Che himself seemed… different somehow.

But these thoughts were ones his fans dared not voice aloud. They buried their doubts, afraid to confront them.

In truth, when they thought it over, they realized Zhang Che would have been better off continuing along his original path. Slowly building his career, improving his acting skills step by step—there was no need to rush for the Stellar Awards. Taking his time would have been fine; after all, he was already ahead of his peers.

Getting a movie role was undoubtedly a good thing, and his fans were genuinely happy for him.

But perhaps it was the series of recent setbacks that had shaken their confidence. They couldn’t help but feel that The Swordsman’s once-bright future was now shrouded in an unsettling shadow, leaving them restless and uneasy.

Lu Xu’s photoshoot for this issue’s NF cover was not the pride of the magazine’s in-house photographer. After all, the theme of “Small-Town Youth” didn’t seem to align well with the concept of fashion.

However, the truth was—the final result turned out much better than the photographer had anticipated, likely because Lu Xu had the ability to internalize and harmonize various elements.

If any other actor had been in his place, they might not have achieved the same effect.

It was as if Lu Xu had grown up in that kind of environment and carried his own reflections about it.

When the camera focused on his face, sunlight happened to fall on his cheek. At that moment, Lu Xu looked warmer than the sunlight itself.

“He must have acted in a very heartwarming drama this time, right?” Upon hearing that the photoshoot’s theme was tied to Lu Xu’s new drama, the photographer couldn’t help but chuckle and said, “I’ve got to check it out.”

As for the magazine’s sales, the NF editorial team hoped it would at least perform on par with the NF supplement issue that featured Zhang Che.

Currently, Lu Xu was considered one of the “traffic actors,” but since he had been nominated for the Stellar Awards two years in a row, the public perception of him leaned more toward a “serious actor.”

On top of that, Lu Xu’s fans rarely “mobilized en masse.” The buzz around his dramas far exceeded his personal popularity. Although there had been reports of a new Z-brand shampoo selling out because of him, that had happened a long time ago.

Lu Xu’s position as a top-tier actor was now firmly established. From a certain perspective, this was a stage where it became relatively difficult for him to attract new fans.

While fans admired strength, Lu Xu had become almost too capable. He didn’t need fans to boost his stats, nor did he suffer grievances that required them to back him up. Even when facing backlash, Lu Xu could verbally spar with critics, holding his own like an army of one.

Lu Xu was so competent that it left little room for fans to feel involved.

Given these circumstances, NF wasn’t entirely sure how much this issue could boost sales.

However, the sponsor, G-brand, was likely very satisfied—the outfits Lu Xu wore for the cover shoot were now completely sold out on the G-brand website.

On the day the new NF magazine hit the shelves, fans were busy criticizing G-brand for not dressing Lu Xu in better clothes, all while enthusiastically placing orders.

[Can’t they give Lu Xu better clothes to wear? [Angry][Angry]]

[A man who relies solely on his face to pull off high fashion.]

[Might as well not wear anything.]

[Might as well not wear anything—I couldn’t help imagining it. [Smirk][Smirk]]

While the outfits weren’t particularly eye-catching, Lu Xu’s face on the cover and in the inner pages was impossible to overlook. When celebrities wear designer fashion, it sometimes feels like the clothes outshine the person, but that was never the case with Lu Xu. No matter the style, he could carry it effortlessly.

The first fans to get their hands on the magazine couldn’t help but share a series of pictures online—

[So gorgeous!!]

[Aaaaahhh, I just want to kiss him! I wish Lu Xu could shoot 800 photos a day for me!]

[@FeiyangEntertainment, please book more fashion events for him! Don’t let this beauty go to waste!]

Tan Qi made sure to save a picture of Lu Xu walking alongside a golden retriever. In the photo, a man and a dog strolled under the sunset, their shadows stretched long and far, the frame bathed in a warm orange glow that filled her heart with warmth.

Although Lu Xu didn’t appear in public often, no matter what image he presented, Tan Qi never felt any sense of distance. Even when he portrayed the cold and unyielding Yu Yi in The Path of Bones or the eccentric and unpredictable Ji Xiuya in Supreme, Lu Xu was still Lu Xu.

Ever since Lu Xu’s NF shoot was announced, Tan Qi had been eagerly anticipating the release date. When the day finally arrived—a Saturday—she bought her copy early in the morning and went back to sleep. By the time she woke up, she found over a dozen messages from her friends, all revolving around the same topic—NF was sold out!

[I couldn’t get a copy! Aaaahhh, I was only half an hour late!]

[So frustrating!!!]

[If I had known the magic of Lu Xu’s first top-tier cover was this powerful, I wouldn’t have slept in. Ugh, I’m so mad!!]

Tan Qi searched Weibo for real-time updates and, unsurprisingly, found many fans in the same situation—unable to purchase the new issue of NF.

[I really underestimated Lu Xu’s influence. Who would’ve thought buying a magazine these days would turn into a race?]

[…Heartbroken here for not grabbing one. @NFMagazine, when will you reprint?]

[!!!! I refuse to let this happen!]

When NF’s official Weibo account logged in, their staff were immediately bombarded with a massive wave of mentions. Meanwhile, the editorial team was still reeling from the shock of selling out in just fifteen minutes.

In fact, because Lu Xu was the cover star, NF had already increased their print run for this issue compared to previous ones. Yet, the speed at which the magazine sold out exceeded everyone’s expectations.

To a certain extent, sales equated to popularity.

Though NF maintained its lofty status as a top-tier publication, the rise of new media in recent years had diminished its influence. Advertising revenue had reached an all-time low as well.

This shift explained why NF was willing to embrace popular celebrities.

While the profits brought by traffic were enviable, NF still strived to maintain a balance between mainstream appeal and sophistication. Newly popular stars usually started with supplement features or inner pages, only earning a main cover once they had built enough credentials.

Stars like Lu Xu, who skipped directly to a main cover, were incredibly rare.

Of course, inviting Lu Xu for the cover did nothing to diminish NF’s prestige. His achievements as a lead actor and his groundbreaking award nominations made him more than worthy of the invitation.

However, it was evident that the magazine had underestimated Lu Xu’s popularity.

The speed at which this issue of NF sold out was nearly double that of the one featuring Zhang Che on the cover.

Compared to other top-tier magazines like Fashion and Visionary, NF’s cover for this issue was undoubtedly the most talked about across all platforms. The photo of Lu Xu walking with the golden retriever was even named “Best of the Month” by several media outlets. The trench coat he wore in the photo practically became G-brand’s most iconic piece of the season.

Not to mention, since signing Lu Xu, G-brand’s sales had continued to soar, consistently outperforming competitors and securing the number one spot in the menswear category for several consecutive quarters.

Nevertheless, Lu Xu only shot this one issue of NF. He hadn’t rushed to appear on the covers of other top-tier magazines. After wrapping up the photoshoot, Lu Xu shifted his focus back to scripts.

At this moment, the script that Yue Hui had invited him to collaborate on had already reached his hands.

Lu Xu: “…”

Previously, he had doubted whether Yue Hui might hold a grudge against him because of The Watchers. Now, it seemed he had simply judged Yue Hui with undue suspicion—the script Yue Hui sent was far better than he had anticipated.

It could even be said that this script was the polar opposite of Zhang Zhizhen’s The Swordsman.

Yue Hui, whose career boasted several Best Actor awards, had led Lu Xu to assume that he preferred artistic films or relatively heartwarming dramas. Lu Xu had mentally prepared himself for a script that was very “artistic.”

After all, he had once been utterly baffled by The Swordsman’s script, even questioning if something was wrong with his own judgment.

However, this film, titled Deception, turned out to be a purely commercial piece. The characters in the script deceived each other at every turn, operating on the edge of legality and employing every possible means in pursuit of profit and personal gain.

The role of the aging con artist in the script was undoubtedly meant for Yue Hui.

As for the younger con artist—that role was clearly meant for Lu Xu.

Although the script didn’t delve into intricate character details, Lu Xu could tell that the younger character was stylish and compelling. The two characters were evenly matched in a game of wits, mastering the art of disguise to perfection.

It was a role that suited him very well.

Most importantly, in two lifetimes, Lu Xu had never played a character like this. Rather than labeling the role as a villain, it was more accurate to say the character found pure joy in the art of deception.

“This script is interesting, isn’t it?” Xu Wen glanced at Lu Xu. “I think you should give it a try.”

Lu Xu smiled at his agent. “Alright.”

He didn’t insist that his first foray into films had to be a grand production. In fact, Lu Xu didn’t even have the concept of “breaking into the film industry” in mind. Yue Hui had invited him to star in a movie, and the script intrigued him—that was all there was to it.

“Feels so casual.”

This process was much quicker than his usual approach to taking on a TV drama.

“Do you need me to plan a ceremony for you?” Xu Wen teased. “Something more formal—maybe a press conference to announce it?”

Lu Xu quickly shut that idea down. “Please don’t.”

“The filming won’t start anytime soon. After finalizing the cast, Yue Hui will probably look for a suitable director and then confirm the rest of the lineup,” Xu Wen explained. “There aren’t many directors in the country who can handle this type of commercial film.”

“Too focused on the artistic side?”

“Way too artistic.” Xu Wen paused to think. “Directors like Zhang Zhizhen and his peers all made their names before the film market was commercialized. Even when they make commercial films, they still use the same old styles.”

In the domestic industry, there were few directors capable of creating truly engaging commercial films and precisely capturing the audience’s visual expectations. Even though the market had been commercialized for years, the variety of commercial film genres remained relatively narrow.

“If this is done well, it could be really interesting,” Lu Xu remarked.

“Yue Hui would never act recklessly,” Xu Wen said with a smile. “Everyone in the industry knows he was deceived once before.”

In fact, the reason Yue Hui took on Uncertain Waves was to restore his reputation after the fallout from The Watchers.

The Watchers was the first drama he filmed after winning the Best Actor award. He had accepted the role because the show’s investor was an old friend of many years, and the director and screenwriter of The Watchers had solid reputations in the industry. Unable to refuse their invitation, he eventually agreed to take part.

But The Watchers flopped.

Yue Hui couldn’t just brush it off and go back to making movies. That would have left people with the impression that he abandoned the television industry after creating a mess.

He also didn’t want The Watchers to be the only impression viewers had of his TV work.

Uncertain Waves became the project he used to redeem himself.

When taking on this series, Yue Hui went to great lengths to eliminate every potential issue, determined to avoid a repeat of The Watchers’ failure.

Thankfully, he succeeded.

Uncertain Waves even earned him the Best Actor award at the Stellar Awards. With that trophy in hand, Yue Hui cemented his status as an accomplished actor in both film and television.

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