Chapter 108: Movie Face

Halfway through reviewing the script, Lu Xu took some time to attend a fashion event hosted by C-brand.

C-brand had taken a long time to negotiate with Lu Xu. After M-brand withdrew from the competition, it was C-brand’s turn to discuss a collaboration with Lu Xu. However, there were differing opinions between Xu Wen and Feiyang Entertainment regarding the title offered by C-brand.

Luxury brands were generally stingy with titles, and generosity like that of G-brand was rare. C-brand was only willing to offer Lu Xu domestic-level recognition, and not even the highest tier at that. Naturally, Xu Wen refused to compromise on this point.

If C-brand wanted to collaborate with Lu Xu, they needed to show sincerity.

This stalemate dragged on for years until Lu Xu won the Best Actor award at the Stellar Awards ceremony. It was only then that C-brand finally relented and gave Lu Xu the title of spokesperson.

The reason the collaboration wasn’t canceled was that, while C-brand was stingy with titles for Lu Xu, they were even stingier with other celebrities. As a result, C-brand managed to maintain its high-end image, refraining from handing out ambassadorships like mass-produced goods.

At this C-brand event, Lu Xu encountered Qi Di, the actor who played the third male lead in a 5-billion-grossing film.

Qi Di’s appearance wasn’t particularly striking, but he possessed a face praised by renowned directors as being perfect for films—a stark contrast to Lu Xu’s style, which relied on gaining popularity through television dramas.

Although both were actors, Lu Xu rarely crossed paths with newcomers in the film industry. He almost never attended film-related events, and the Stellar Awards, the highest honor in the television industry, seldom featured rookie actors from the film industry.

Whether intentional or simply a long-standing tradition, it was a well-established impression among audiences that actors who focused on the film industry were indeed viewed as more prestigious.

Qi Di clearly shared this sentiment.

At the C-brand event, Lu Xu knew few celebrities. The only familiar face was Wei Yi, a rarity since Lu Xu seldom acted in youth-oriented idol dramas and therefore had fewer opportunities to meet actors of his age group.

Fortunately, most of the celebrities at the event were mere acquaintances, requiring only polite nods rather than deep conversations. Lu Xu didn’t need to appear overly enthusiastic; keeping things calm and composed was sufficient.

No matter who he encountered, maintaining an appropriate attitude was enough for Lu Xu.

However, when he ran into Qi Di backstage, just as Lu Xu was about to greet him, Qi Di raised his head high, ignored Lu Xu’s gaze, and walked away with his assistant without a second glance.

During the group photo session at the event, the photographer had already assigned positions. Lu Xu stood in the center, with Qi Di positioned beside him, leaving about an arm’s length of space between them.

But it became visibly apparent that Qi Di was edging closer to him. At one point, his outstretched arm even obstructed Lu Xu’s pose, forcing Lu Xu to step forward slightly to properly showcase the wristwatch on his hand and the lapel pin on his suit.

When Lu Xu moved forward, Qi Di followed suit.

Since everyone on set was focused on the camera at that moment, Lu Xu couldn’t glance at Qi Di to address the issue.

Not long after, Lu Xu saw the official photos from the C-brand event.

What had originally been Lu Xu standing alone in the prime center position now showed him and Qi Di side by side, making it look as though they were dual “C positions.”

Lu Xu: “…”

It felt oddly reminiscent of his time in Verse.

Still, Qi Di carried himself with an air of confidence and openness, leaving Lu Xu uncertain whether the actions had been intentional.

As it was a public event, Qi Di’s behavior naturally caught the attention of onlookers.

[He did that on purpose, didn’t he? Lu Xu is the spokesperson. Isn’t it normal for the spokesperson to stand in the center?]

[If it wasn’t deliberate at first, the fact that he moved every time Lu Xu adjusted his position makes it obvious.]

[Stealing the spotlight is one thing, but don’t block someone from showcasing the product. C-brand invited celebrities to the event to highlight the merchandise, not to watch certain people pull attention-seeking stunts.]

Lu Xu’s fans quickly expressed their opinions, only to be met with rebuttals from Qi Di’s fans:

[Stop with the C-position obsession, will you? All you think about is that spot in the center. No wonder—Lu Xu came from an idol group. He’s just not on the same level as a serious actor.]

[Ridiculous. Does Qi Di not deserve the center position? His box office achievements exceed 7 billion yuan, making him the clear leader among his peers. Does C-brand have a rule that only the spokesperson can stand in the middle?]

Lu Xu’s fans: “…”

At a brand event, if the spokesperson doesn’t stand in the center, who should?

It’s like a movie set—having the director stand in the middle is completely normal. Would Qi Di dare to compete for the center spot with the director of How Much Do You Know?

During Lu Xu’s attendance at the C-brand event, the daily box office revenue of Deception quietly surpassed that of The Train Home, climbing to the top of the daily box office rankings.

Although the Chinese New Year holiday had ended and the hype for various films was gradually waning, Deception still managed to exceed 100 million yuan in daily box office revenue, pushing its total past the 1 billion mark and heading steadily toward 1.5 billion.

A GIF of Yan Huan, a character in the film, staring intently at another participant became a viral sensation, featured prominently on marketing accounts across social media. It was quickly hailed as one of the most iconic moments of the movie.

As Deception’s box office numbers climbed, the character Yan Huan grew increasingly prominent in the public eye. His carefree, unpredictable nature left audiences guessing his true intentions, making him the wild card in the game.

Many viewers admitted they were initially drawn to the movie by Lu Xu’s appearance, willingly buying tickets just to see his face on the big screen.

[It’s not my fault] one audience member wrote, [Movies these days are filled with unattractive people. I just wanted to see someone beautiful—is that too much to ask?]

This comment garnered countless likes.

People didn’t want to see unattractive faces. Their preference was that simple.

There was no doubt—this was Lu Xu’s moment of peak popularity.

The incident of Qi Di stealing the spotlight immediately thrust both of them into the trending topics on social media.

From the video clips circulating online, it was clear that Qi Di, originally positioned off to the side, had consistently encroached on Lu Xu’s space. However, Qi Di’s fans continued to argue otherwise, presenting a straightforward rationale: Qi Di had already made a name for himself in the film industry. Why would he bother competing with Lu Xu, who was just starting to make his mark there?

When it came to backing or agency connections, Qi Di clearly held the upper hand.

He was the protégé of Liu Rennong, one of the most prestigious film directors in the industry, and his management contract was directly tied to Liu’s studio.

Apart from lacking substantial popularity, Qi Di had access to film resources that Lu Xu could only dream of.

To put it bluntly, as long as How Much Do You Know? existed, Qi Di would always have a lifelong claim to fame.

With a box office record surpassing 5 billion yuan, How Much Do You Know? was an unparalleled achievement. Few films could hope to achieve such a milestone. Even during this year’s Spring Festival season, hailed as the most competitive in history, the eventual winner, The Train Home, didn’t even break the 3 billion mark.

The golden era seemed to have passed. While The Train Home might eventually cross the 3 billion threshold, surpassing How Much Do You Know? was almost impossible.

In response to the spotlight-stealing incident, Qi Di’s management company issued a mild and vague statement, claiming that the crowded conditions on set and the angle of the online video clips caused a misunderstanding.

That was the official stance. Behind closed doors, however, Qi Di’s manager made some snide remarks, saying, “Lu Xu himself hasn’t said anything about it, so why are his fans so vocal?”

“Aren’t people always saying Lu Xu is sharp-tongued? His fans sure seem to be doing all the talking for him.”

Qi Di’s manager, who had been working at Liu Rennong’s studio since entering the industry, had never endured the hardships typically faced in the entertainment world. There was no need for him to grovel or beg for resources.

It could be said that Qi Di’s style as a celebrity mirrored his manager’s approach in the agency world—aloof, privileged, and unbothered.

Sensing the buzz, a group of reporters moved quickly to confront Lu Xu with questions.

After the Deception promotional tour concluded, Lu Xu had been staying at home working on scripts. Reporters had been staking out the area near his building for several days with little hope of spotting him. However, that day, one reporter noticed Shao Yao waiting on a bicycle outside Lu Xu’s home.

Sure enough, not long after, Lu Xu appeared as well.

Lu Xu was the type of celebrity who rarely made headlines for scandals or nightlife escapades. He seldom frequented bars or clubs, making him a challenging target for tabloid reporters. Even after ten or fifteen days of watching, they often came up empty-handed.

When nothing was happening, it was fine. But whenever there was a story brewing, finding him became a real challenge.

The moment Shao Yao showed up, the reporters knew the two were planning a casual outing.

There also seemed to be an unspoken understanding between the duo and their fans. Although Lu Xu went out quite often and was frequently spotted riding his bike, fans rarely disturbed him in such situations.

Taking advantage of the brief moment before they started cycling, the reporters quickly intercepted Lu Xu.

They relayed the statements from Qi Di’s management company and his manager, embellishing the story as they presented it to Lu Xu. The reporters weren’t sure if Lu Xu would launch into a rebuttal or opt to stay silent out of consideration for Liu Rennong’s powerful standing in the film industry.

After all, people rarely change their nature, and Qi Di’s arrogance was nothing new.

Previously, during a certain film awards ceremony, Zhang Che had a similar experience. Qi Di had deliberately ignored him, though Zhang Che later stepped forward to smooth things over. Zhang Che claimed the crowd that day had been too large, and Qi Di had greeted him, but Zhang Che simply hadn’t noticed.

This explanation might have worked on fans, but seasoned reporters, who had witnessed countless disputes in the industry, weren’t so easily fooled.

Still, since Zhang Che had willingly offered that excuse, there wasn’t much others could say. They could only marvel at Qi Di’s strong backing, which allowed him to disregard anyone’s face.

Zhang Che had a massive fan base, yet Lu Xu had had no qualms about engaging in public disputes with him. When it came to Qi Di, however, Lu Xu seemed hesitant to even touch the topic.

While Lu Xu was pondering, one particularly eager reporter kept pushing their microphone closer, nearly obstructing Lu Xu’s face.

The reporter was desperate to capture Lu Xu’s exact response.

“Oh, that incident,” Lu Xu said, as if he had just remembered, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his lips.

The slight change immediately drew the attention of all the reporters present, their gazes brimming with curiosity.

Lu Xu composed himself, suppressing his smile. After a brief pause, he finally spoke:

“I don’t mean to criticize anyone, but I just want to ask—does it look that good?”

For a moment, the reporters didn’t grasp the implication of his words.

It wasn’t until Lu Xu moved his bike to the side of the road and pedaled away that one of them had an epiphany:

“Wow, Lu Xu’s words are so sharp!”

Lu Xu had effectively asked Qi Di whether standing beside him made him look good.

Everyone had seen the photos from the C-brand event. To be perfectly honest, no matter how many poses Qi Di struck or how much he encroached on Lu Xu’s frame, the focus of the picture was still undeniably Lu Xu.

As for Qi Di, standing next to Lu Xu? To put it bluntly, the comparison wasn’t flattering.

[Forget it. I’m not saying anything. My comments tend to come off as harsh.]

[Reminds me of something a showbiz personality in K-country once said: ‘Put the good-looking kids in the middle; it makes the not-so-good-looking ones appear better too.’]

If Lu Xu, the official spokesperson, had stayed in the center, the photos from the C-brand event would have looked harmonious. But Qi Di’s insistence on squeezing into the shot completely ruined the composition.

Truth be told, Qi Di’s looks were average at best.

As for the so-called “movie face” praised by famous directors, no one quite understood it. Perhaps the point was that none of the other actors in his films looked worse than he did, so by default, they all had “movie faces.”

When Qi Di forced himself into the frame beside Lu Xu, the resulting effect was…

Figure it out yourself.

They just wanted to ask Qi Di—‘Does it look that good?’

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