Chapter 111: A Sense of Exhilaration

In the production crews Lu Xu had been part of, Feather of Youth could be considered one of the poorest. The budget was tight, and they couldn’t afford big-name stars—though, to be fair, he had never worked in a particularly wealthy crew.

Regardless of the budget, the directors always spent every penny where it mattered, never wasting money where it wasn’t needed.

Feather of Youth was undeniably a young crew; the director, screenwriter, and actors were all quite young. After joining the production, Lu Xu realized he was unexpectedly the most experienced member of the team.

For a moment, he found it hard to adapt.

However, the relaxed atmosphere of the crew reminded him of his time filming My Baby Prince.

What Lu Xu didn’t know was that before he agreed to take on Feather of Youth, it was just an unremarkable youth film with little attention. Once he accepted the role of Yin Pei, the other roles in the film suddenly became hotly contested among various talent agencies.

After all, Deception had been a huge hit. Even without factoring in overseas box office revenue, its domestic performance alone was remarkable.

In the industry’s view, Deception wasn’t the kind of film guaranteed to be a success.

What’s more, with Lu Xu starring in Feather of Youth, the risk of box office failure fell squarely on his shoulders. For other actors, this was a low-risk opportunity.

On the first day of joining the crew, Lu Xu met the other actors. His character, Yin Pei, was a badminton player with two close friends. One of his friends was played by Hu Yan, an artist signed under Ningshi Entertainment.

Lu Xu had crossed paths with Ningshi before. The company had two male leads in The Empress, but unfortunately, The Empress was utterly crushed by The Path of Bones and became a project the female lead, Qiao Mengyao, would rather not talk about in her career.

Those two actors, who once claimed they were “explosive stars,” gradually faded into obscurity afterward.

However, Ningshi Entertainment was indeed skilled at securing roles. Shortly after Lu Xu was cast in Feather of Youth, Ningshi successfully negotiated for Hu Yan to get his part.

This time, Ningshi Entertainment kept a relatively low profile. Lu Xu was no longer the small, insignificant actor he once was. Even if they intended to challenge Lu Xu, Ningshi Entertainment had to be mentally prepared for the possibility that Hu Yan might not get to act in Feather of Youth.

Between Lu Xu and Hu Yan, the crew’s choice was obvious.

Another actor, Guo Yingyu, was signed to the studio of a renowned director. Without a doubt, among the many rookie actors in the industry, she had a higher chance of achieving meteoric success.

Still, in the eyes of many young actors, Lu Xu was considered the gold standard for their generation.

When the cast first met, everyone was still getting acquainted, and the atmosphere wasn’t particularly lively. Lu Xu had just gone off to discuss the script with the director when Guo Yingyu couldn’t resist messaging a friend:

[I just saw Lu Xu in person! He’s super handsome!!]

[Get his autograph, please.]

[No problem, but I don’t dare ask right now. He seems hard to approach—you know, that untouchable aura handsome guys have.]

[I get it. That’s the barrier between gorgeous guys and us mere mortals—impossible to cross.]

[[Handshake emoji][Handshake emoji][Handshake emoji][Handshake emoji].]

Guo Yingyu genuinely felt a sense of intimidation toward Lu Xu. In her imagination, he was the type of actor who was strict with others and even stricter with himself—a perfectionist workaholic. At least when it came to acting, he would treat it with utmost seriousness and likely wouldn’t tolerate his scene partners being lax.

Her manager had already warned her about this before she joined the crew.

Although her agency had pulled some strings to secure her role, Guo Yingyu had also worked hard to stand out among her competitors.

Her appearance closely matched the character’s, and her acting skills weren’t bad either.

Guo Yingyu silently glanced at Hu Yan, who was sitting across from her. Most people in the industry knew about Ningshi Entertainment’s previous attempts to block Lu Xu’s career, so joining the Feather of Youth crew might not necessarily be a good thing for Hu Yan.

No one really knew Lu Xu’s true personality. Rumors suggested that he was easy to get along with, but since only a handful of actors had actually worked with him, those rumors were, at best, half true.

The production of Feather of Youth was low-budget, and the filming process was simple. They borrowed a university’s gymnasium and sports field for the shoot. Before joining the crew, Lu Xu took the time to train diligently. Under a coach’s guidance, he rigorously practiced badminton for about twenty days. By the end of it, he felt his arm strength had increased, and his lower body had become much stronger.

The crew had considered hiring a stunt double for Lu Xu. However, since badminton didn’t involve high-difficulty stunts and occupied a significant portion of the movie, Lu Xu felt it was unnecessary.

His movements were far from those of a professional athlete, but Lu Xu wanted his swings and shots to look convincing. Naturally, he pushed himself harder during training.

He didn’t want the audience to think the movie was fake.

Even after joining the crew, he continued to carve out time to practice badminton.

Thanks to his habit of cycling regularly, his lower body was fairly stable, and with consistent practice, his skills noticeably improved.

“You should join the Celebrity Sports Games next time,” Director Feng Rui suggested. “I’ve seen quite a few actors participate every year.”

Guo Yingyu: “…”

The director probably didn’t realize that most of the actors who participated in the Celebrity Sports Games had a fraction of Lu Xu’s fame.

The entertainment industry was brutally competitive. While Lu Xu was swamped with work—going from one script to another—most people in the industry were so idle that they had nothing to do but twiddle their thumbs.

She… had participated in a Celebrity Sports Games once.

After taking on the role in Feather of Youth, Guo Yingyu’s agency canceled all her non-essential activities, insisting that she focus entirely on the film’s production.

Just a few days ago, a marketing account published a list of rising young actresses, and to her surprise, she made the cut.

What had she done to deserve this?

Still, Guo Yingyu couldn’t help but chuckle to herself a few times over the recognition.

And so, Feather of Youth reached the first scene of its official shoot.

Guo Yingyu stopped smiling and didn’t have time to text her friends. She approached this scene with extreme caution, while Hu Yan, on the other side, wore an expression of deep apprehension, clearly nervous.

In contrast, Lu Xu appeared much more at ease.

This scene depicted Yin Pei and his friends Wang Zixiang and Qin Jinwei experiencing the final moments of their high school years. For others, graduation symbolized fulfillment and the start of a new chapter, but for Yin Pei, it marked the beginning of a nightmare.

He could no longer be an athlete.

Since elementary school, he had been training in badminton. At the time, it wasn’t driven by some grand dream—just a desire to strengthen his body. But as he kept training, he grew to love the sport. He wanted to go higher and farther, to join the national team. In fact, not long ago, he had been scouted by the national second team and was on the brink of making a breakthrough.

But now, all his hopes were shattered.

The scenery of the national team was something he could never witness in this lifetime.

For an ordinary person, Yin Pei’s injury wouldn’t have been life-altering, but for an athlete striving for the world stage, it was a nightmare.

When Wang Zixiang and Qin Jinwei found Yin Pei, he was alone in an empty training hall, silently stringing his racket. The hall was eerily quiet, and Yin Pei, sitting there in silence, resembled a wandering ghost.

He was still doing what a badminton player was supposed to do—treating his racket like his lifeline, picking up shuttlecocks one by one. But his friends could clearly see his hand trembling as he gripped the racket, as though he was exerting all his strength and still couldn’t come to terms with the outcome.

“Yin Pei…”

Wang Zixiang called out to him softly. Yin Pei raised his head slightly, but his eyes were unfocused, filled with confusion.

Not long ago, when talking about being selected for the national team, his eyes sparkled, and his words were brimming with hope for the future.

In this scene from the script, Yin Pei didn’t shed tears. Yet somehow, through his gaze and body language, the despair he radiated was unmistakable to his friends.

Perhaps he was so heartbroken that he couldn’t even cry.

Yin Pei had always been the little ray of sunshine among his friends. As a sports student, he was the one who encouraged Wang Zixiang and Qin Jinwei whenever they felt down during their studies.

On the court, Yin Pei always played with an optimistic spirit. Even when he was at a disadvantage, he stayed calm and chased every point with unwavering determination.

His friends had never seen this side of Yin Pei. At this moment, they would rather he cried.

It was a long while before Yin Pei finally stood up and gave them a faint, apologetic smile. “You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you? I’ll join you soon.”

Although he smiled, the forced nature of it was evident to his friends.

“Yin Pei…”

This time, it was Qin Jinwei who called his name.

This was the opening scene of Feather of Youth. Guo Yingyu had already memorized her lines thoroughly in advance. To ensure she performed well, she had even rehearsed her movements and expressions ahead of time, imagining herself in the role during the actual shoot.

At that moment, everything Guo Yingyu had rehearsed the day before—how to modulate her tone, where to pause, and what expression Qin Jinwei should wear when looking at Yin Pei—vanished completely from her mind. As her gaze met Lu Xu’s, she felt as though she was witnessing Yin Pei’s pain firsthand.

And in that instant, she truly became his friend.

Tears burst forth uncontrollably.

Yin Pei was the one injured, the one who had lost his dream, but it was Qin Jinwei who couldn’t hold back her tears. In the end, it was Yin Pei who patted Qin Jinwei on the shoulder, softly comforting her, and the three of them ended up crying together in a messy, tearful heap.

Time seemed to blur until Director Feng Rui finally called, “Cut,” and the scene came to an end.

Guo Yingyu wiped her tears away.

She was completely stunned. She had no idea how she had managed to cry like that. In that moment, she simply couldn’t control her emotions. She didn’t know if it was Lu Xu’s performance pulling her in or if the overwhelming sadness of Yin Pei’s character had seeped into her soul.

But—this was undoubtedly the most immersive moment of her acting career.

Guo Yingyu wasn’t without talent—after all, she had signed with a prestigious director’s studio and been selected for Feather of Youth.

Yet she couldn’t help but feel that Lu Xu’s dedication to his role, and the way he embodied his character, was unmatched among the actors of their generation. Over the past weeks, he had been training in badminton, and his physique had grown noticeably stronger—he was more robust now than in the photos the media had taken before he joined the crew. Despite this, he still perfectly captured the fragility of the character.

In that instant, she profoundly understood Yin Pei’s pain and helplessness.

It felt like a tidal wave crashing over her, drowning her completely.

He was… truly extraordinary.

Now, she fully understood why the Stellar Awards had awarded Lu Xu Best Actor.

His performance was every bit as compelling as any of the senior actors she had worked with before.

Before joining the Feather of Youth cast, Guo Yingyu’s manager had told her that she would undoubtedly learn something from Lu Xu. Though Lu Xu hadn’t collaborated with many young actors, those who had worked with him—Shao Yao, Zheng Xiao, Wei Yi—had all found their footing in the entertainment industry.

Even if they didn’t achieve meteoric fame, they had at least become competent actors.

“Excellent, excellent!”

Director Feng Rui couldn’t help but applaud.

For the first scene, he had only intended to let the actors familiarize themselves with each other and find a comfortable rhythm for their interactions. But to his surprise, Lu Xu and Guo Yingyu had both delivered performances beyond expectations, with Hu Yan also performing above the passing mark.

As the director, this filled him with greater hope for the young actors in the crew.

That day, Guo Yingyu didn’t chat much with her friends.

Her friend had been pestering her on WeChat for Lu Xu’s autograph, and Guo Yingyu had promised to get it. Of course, she would deliver on that promise.

But compared to the autograph—or even her initial curiosity about Lu Xu’s temperament and whether he was easy to work with—what mattered more to her now was the impact of the day’s scene on her.

Actors often have a keen sense of their own performance.

Guo Yingyu felt as though she had glimpsed the threshold of becoming a truly good actor. If she could push herself just a bit harder, she believed she could deliver even better performances.

The exhilaration she felt was difficult to put into words.

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