Chapter 113: Inspired
In Yin Pei, Feng Rui could no longer see a trace of any of Lu Xu’s previous roles.
It was as though, through Lu Xu’s portrayal, the character of Yin Pei had been given a whole new brilliance.
“Excellent, absolutely excellent!”
It wasn’t just Lu Xu—Guo Yingyu and Hu Yan’s performances were flawless as well. Their acting felt natural and full of youthful energy, just like real college students. When filming first started for Feather of Youth, Feng Rui had found their performances a little stiff. However, the more time they spent on set, the more their acting skills improved.
Whenever they had free time, Guo Yingyu and Hu Yan would quietly study their scripts.
The university campus borrowed for the shoot was full of vibrant and energetic students. To enrich their roles, Guo Yingyu and Hu Yan often observed the demeanor and spirit of actual college students.
Both Guo Yingyu and Hu Yan were formally trained actors, and their university experiences differed significantly from those of regular college students.
When discussing their performances with Feng Rui, both admitted, “We can’t let our performances fall too far behind Lu Xu’s. The audience would notice immediately.”
Given Lu Xu’s powerful ability to bring his character to life, even a slight drop in their effort would be glaringly obvious to viewers.
Not to mention—Lu Xu himself was naturally a very radiant actor.
Standing next to such a performer, you could feel his presence even from the corner of your eye. The contrast was already stark enough, but if Lu Xu fully immersed himself in a role while they half-heartedly approached theirs, the difference would become even more painfully apparent.
“I can’t afford to look too lackluster,” Guo Yingyu muttered to a friend. “Athletic male leads already have that extra charm bonus. And then you add Lu Xu’s face to the mix—imagine what happens when you stack a charm bonus on that face…”
“I get it. So, when’s the movie coming out?”
“…So, you don’t care about me, you just care about the movie’s release date? Where’s the love?”
“When—is—your—movie—coming—out?”
“Heh.”
…
In Guo Yingyu and Hu Yan’s view, acting opposite Lu Xu made it easy to get drawn into the emotions. If even outsiders could feel so deeply, how much more so for actors like them, who faced Lu Xu directly and were intimately familiar with the script.
The pain of Yin Pei, the joy of Yin Pei—Lu Xu portrayed it all with vivid intensity.
Lu Xu even practiced his badminton swings to make the movements look good, going so far as to develop calluses on his palms.
Because Lu Xu’s portrayal of Yin Pei was so authentic and his personality so distinct, they occasionally doubted whether someone like Yin Pei actually existed in real life.
In short—Lu Xu truly brought the character to life.
“I interpreted this part like this,” Hu Yan had been thinking about Lu Xu when the man suddenly squeezed in beside him, plopping onto the ground without a trace of self-consciousness, utterly unbothered by any need to maintain a “handsome guy” image. “The downturn in the plot gradually decreases after this, so when the two of us are talking…”
As Lu Xu spoke, Hu Yan nodded along lightly.
Guo Yingyu ran over and stuffed a bag of snacks into each of their hands—they were all things she had bought from the school’s small convenience store.
Generally speaking, only she and Hu Yan handled shopping tasks. Lu Xu couldn’t show his face at all. If he did, the school track, the small store, and the surrounding area would inevitably get crowded with fans until there wasn’t an inch of space left.
There were even students from other schools climbing the walls to catch a glimpse of Lu Xu. The security guards caught several of them every day!
It was simply… absurd.
Hu Yan felt that the rumors were completely unreliable.
Who said Lu Xu was difficult to get along with?
Lu Xu’s temperament was a thousand times better than that of a few senior actors Hu Yan had worked with in the past!
When he landed the role of Wang Zixiang, there had been snide remarks and ridicule in the company. Ningshi was a big company, not long established but rife with factional rivalries. With so many young actors competing, Hu Yan wasn’t among the most favored, but his resources weren’t bad either.
When he first joined the cast of Feather of Youth, some people had been waiting to see him make a fool of himself by clashing with Lu Xu.
But now, Hu Yan couldn’t help but laugh at the thought.
What was there to clash about with Lu Xu? He couldn’t find a single reason. Would he be foolish enough to act high and mighty or play the diva in front of Lu Xu? He wasn’t that brainless.
Lu Xu was a very straightforward person. As long as no one provoked him, he usually kept to himself quietly and never stirred up trouble.
Hu Yan could tell that Lu Xu personally disliked anything troublesome. Acting like a diva or putting on airs were just sources of unnecessary hassle. In the Feather of Youth crew, none of that happened. They didn’t lock down the stadium to keep students out, and the filming tried its best not to disrupt the normal campus routine.
But if fans wanted autographs or photos, Lu Xu would generally oblige—unless it was absolutely impossible to accommodate.
Hu Yan had never seen any of the airport chaos that rumors often associated with celebrities. Lu Xu probably opposed such situations vehemently, and besides, he was far past the stage of needing to flaunt his fan count. But here, on this university campus, Hu Yan truly realized just how insanely popular Lu Xu was.
It was… terrifyingly high.
He and Guo Yingyu were young actors, just a few years younger than Lu Xu. On the Feather of Youth set, they couldn’t help but marvel at how far above average Lu Xu’s acting skills were and how overwhelming his popularity was. While this inspired them, it also sparked a flame of ambition within them.
They wanted to stand as tall as Lu Xu, to see the view from the top.
When the person you wanted to surpass, the person you wanted to beat, was right in front of you—how could you not work harder?
…
After discussing the script, everyone had a clear plan for tomorrow’s shoot. Lu Xu stayed behind at the training ground to continue practicing, while Guo Yingyu showed Hu Yan the trending topics she had just scrolled through.
“I already saw that,” he said.
The crew of Song of Tears had previously run a marketing campaign claiming that Lu Xu was their intended lead actor. They fooled unsuspecting investors into providing sponsorships and garnered attention for the production.
Recently, it seemed that Song of Tears had started filming, and they were once again subtly comparing themselves to Feather of Youth.
However, they didn’t dare to go too far with their marketing tricks, keeping their efforts low-key. After all, their lead actor, Qi Di, was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode into scandal.
That said, apart from the main cast, the supporting cast of Song of Tears was indeed stronger than that of Feather of Youth. Marketing accounts described Feather of Youth as “as simple as a blank sheet of paper,” “as plain as a glass of water,” and “lacking depth,” which naturally failed to attract highly skilled actors to the project.
In other words, the criticism wasn’t directed at Lu Xu but at the two relatively unknown supporting actors.
Guo Yingyu quipped, “Oh, right, their scripts must be printed on black paper.”
“Even their toilet paper must be multicolored!” she added.
“And may they never drink plain water for the rest of their lives!!”
Hu Yan: “…”
He had expected Guo Yingyu to say something more threatening.
Although both Guo Yingyu and Qi Di were signed under the same renowned director’s studio, their styles were worlds apart.
On the set of Feather of Youth, Guo Yingyu referred to herself as a “rookie dog” and threw herself into relentless self-improvement. Hu Yan thought he was already working hard, but Guo Yingyu was no less diligent than him.
That was why he felt so much pressure in this crew—everyone around him was exceptional in some way.
Yet, in a sense, Hu Yan had discovered an alternative path to success that didn’t rely on hype or drama: perhaps focusing entirely on doing his best in every project could yield better results than he had imagined.
Ningshi was a major company, and his chances of landing good scripts were higher than most.
The main issue was that Xu Qingtian and Zhai Yiyun, stars of The Empress, hadn’t become breakout successes. Ningshi had invested heavily in both of them, but the returns were far below expectations. Gradually, life became more challenging for Xu Qingtian and Zhai Yiyun.
After all, in a competitive environment like Ningshi, if one person couldn’t be elevated to stardom, the company would simply move on to promoting someone else.
…
The filming of Feather of Youth continued.
The comeback match marked a turning point in Yin Pei’s life. This match brought him joy and instilled him with boundless confidence.
Having endured the ordeal of injury, his mindset became more composed than before. His technical skills were honed to a higher level, and he learned to use his body and muscles more efficiently.
This match proved to him that he could keep playing.
To continue standing on the court, to continue showcasing his passion—he had no regrets.
Feather of Youth highlighted the positive side of things, to the point where it felt a little detached from reality. In the real world, it was rare for athletes to return to the field after a severe injury, especially in a sport like badminton, which demands intense physical endurance. Once an athlete’s stamina declines, even the best players gradually retire.
But… reality was already harsh enough; there was no need to replicate it in a film.
Yin Pei’s return to the court was a miracle—so why not extend that miracle a little longer?
Lu Xu was thoroughly enjoying his time filming Feather of Youth. The script didn’t call for gory scenes, he didn’t have to open his eyes to see props drenched in fake blood, nor did he have to deal with rats or all kinds of fake c*rpses.
It was all so wholesome. Wholesome to the point that the more he filmed, the more enthusiastic he became. He only wanted to present the most joyful and badminton-loving version of Yin Pei to the audience.
As the story progressed, Yin Pei competed in several more matches, steadily improving and finally reaching the dream stage he had longed for before his injury.
Wang Zixiang and Qin Jinwei were no longer lost about their futures. Both had discovered what they truly wanted to do and solidified their goals.
The two of them helped Yin Pei achieve a miracle—a miracle Yin Pei himself had already given up on. They encouraged him not to quit when he was ready to let go.
The miracle that Yin Pei didn’t believe in seemed completely natural to them.
Because Yin Pei had already sacrificed so much and devoted so much to badminton.
When the miracle finally came true, it was also a tremendous source of encouragement for the two of them, who were struggling with their own uncertainties.
Yin Pei had come so close to abandoning badminton altogether, yet he endured and pushed through. Compared to that, what were the challenges that Wang Zixiang and Qin Jinwei were facing?
Yin Pei’s perseverance not only inspired himself but also uplifted his friends.
Qin Jinwei decided to focus on her studies, pursuing a graduate degree and striving to become indispensable in her field.
She was one of a kind. Everyone would come to see that her efforts were valuable and meaningful.
Wang Zixiang also began working diligently toward his own ambitions.
Yin Pei’s struggles weren’t his alone—they were shared by all three of them. As his friends, they couldn’t bear to see the typically cheerful, puppy-like Yin Pei consumed by despair.
And in the moment when Yin Pei dispelled his gloom, the shadows weighing on their own hearts lifted as well.
Just like the title Feather of Youth, the feather-light, soft, and gentle wings could effortlessly touch everyone.
The final scene of Feather of Youth was Yin Pei facing off against a longtime rival—a competitor who had been an insurmountable obstacle, even before Yin Pei’s injury.
But now, he approached the challenge with calm confidence. Driven by pure love for the sport, he returned to the court. Compared to the prospect of never playing badminton again, everything else seemed insignificant.
For him now, there was no need to think about anything else—playing each game to the best of his ability was all that mattered.
He thought this way, and he acted accordingly.
The match was intensely close, but Yin Pei’s spirits were soaring. His energy was so contagious that it even lifted his opponent’s mood, and together they delivered an extraordinary game.
The score kept fluctuating, and the atmosphere on the court was electric.
When the score was finally decided, Yin Pei had defeated the opponent he had never managed to beat before.
At the moment it ended, his opponent showed no anger, no disappointment. Instead, holding his racket high and locking eyes with Yin Pei, he said, “Welcome back!”
Yin Pei clenched his fists and broke into a wide smile, waving vigorously at his opponent.
As marketing accounts had said when trying to put down Feather of Youth, it truly was a simple script. Plain, with no dark backstory for the protagonist, no superpowers, no deaths, no explosions, no tragic love spanning millennia.
But Feather of Youth was about the everyday. About life. About one person sprinting endlessly toward their dream.
Some people love dramatic intensity, while others appreciate the beauty of simplicity.
As Yin Pei’s actor, even Lu Xu himself found inspiration in the character.
Who wouldn’t love a little sunshine? Who wouldn’t enjoy being a warm, happy little dog basking in the sun’s glow?
Anyone who didn’t appreciate it had no taste. But Lu Xu did.
