Chapter 126: The Event

Before the celebrity match began, Lu Xu sneezed heavily. He thought back carefully and concluded that he had been mindful of keeping warm, so he probably hadn’t caught a cold.

Could it be that someone was thinking about him?

“That’d be way too many to count,” Xu Wen said sarcastically behind him.

This time, Lu Xu participated in a badminton celebrity match with Hu Yan and Guo Yingyu. The event was jointly organized by the film crew and the Badminton Association two weeks after the release of Feather of Youth.

In this celebrity match, the trio’s opponents were all professional athletes.

In fact, during the filming of Feather of Youth, the production team had received tremendous support from the Badminton Association. Lu Xu’s racket swings, striking techniques, and the skills he demonstrated while hitting the shuttlecock had all been guided by professional coaches.

This event was held partly to boost the box office performance of Feather of Youth and partly to increase the influence of badminton as a sport.

Guo Yingyu had been muttering nonstop, “I’m so bad at this. I’ll definitely embarrass myself out there.”

While Lu Xu had at least been practicing during the filming, and Hu Yan was a fitness enthusiast with great stamina, she was undeniably the weakest of the weak. To avoid embarrassing herself too much, she had trained until she cried over the past few days. Her palms had developed calluses, and her arms and thighs were sore every day.

Although Guo Yingyu knew that the professional athletes on stage would definitely go easy on them, she didn’t want to drag the team down.

Feather of Youth was, after all, a film about badminton. In the movie, Yin Pei’s love for badminton was so genuine. As a member of Feather of Youth, she couldn’t betray the theme of the film.

At the very least, she wanted the audience to see that she truly loved Feather of Youth.

Guo Yingyu had already been shocked by Lu Xu’s popularity countless times, but this time, in a stadium that could hold tens of thousands of people—what was it like to have everyone calling out one name in unison?

It was so overwhelming that it gave her goosebumps all over.

Under the stadium lights, Lu Xu’s eyes sparkled brilliantly, and every time the camera panned slightly toward the audience, Guo Yingyu could see the bright, glimmering eyes of the crowd on both sides.

She even spotted audience members holding posters of her!

“If you act well, you’ll be remembered.” That was a line she had read in one of Lu Xu’s interviews that had left a deep impression on her.

And now, that very sentence was coming true for her!

At this moment, Guo Yingyu felt that being an actor was truly wonderful. It wasn’t just about fame; it was about having her hard work recognized.

This belief was what had driven her to become an actress in the first place!

When the match began, it was no surprise that the professional athletes held back. However, Lu Xu’s skills were genuinely impressive, and in the first two rounds, he managed to go toe-to-toe with the professionals.

Every time he scored a point, the stadium erupted into cheers like a tidal wave—his opponent, perhaps realizing this, began giving him increasingly easy shots.

“Ahhhhh! Male lead energy!”

“Those perfectly toned muscles! I missed the roadshow, but there’s no way I’m missing this!”

“Ahhhhh, look at that little puppy dripping sweat—such a stunning sight! Why am I not Guo Yingyu?”

“Why am I not the badminton racket?”

“You’re all getting more and more ridiculous, so why am I not Lu Xu’s T-shirt?”

“Hehehe, my thoughts are heading into even darker territory now.”

Fans quickly noticed that, despite this being an exhibition match, Lu Xu played with remarkable intensity. He wasn’t trying to show off his physique or winking playfully at the fans after taking a couple of steps. Instead, what fans loved most was his serious demeanor.

After two rounds, Lu Xu’s forehead and neck were already covered in sweat. The on-site director, clearly attuned to what fans wanted to see, zoomed in on all the little details: Lu Xu lifting the corner of his T-shirt to wipe his sweat, his focused gaze as he aimed the shuttlecock across the net, the unconscious lick of his lips, and, most captivating of all, the extreme concentration in his eyes.

Even though his skills couldn’t compare to the professional athletes, Lu Xu never slacked off. He dashed across the court, his eyes locked on the shuttlecock, and gave his all with every swing of the racket.

“It’s like seeing the real Yin Pei…”

Someone suddenly blurted out this comment, and a hush fell over many of the fans in the stadium.

Even on this stage for an exhibition match, Lu Xu embodied “Yin Pei” so vividly, as if he were deliberately extending the story of the movie.

The powerful sound of his racket striking the shuttlecock resonated through the venue, and fans couldn’t help but feel that Lu Xu not only cherished the role of Yin Pei but also deeply valued every single meeting with his fans.

[What an amazing match!]

[If Yin Pei really existed in real life, he’d probably be working this hard, smiling as he played!]

[I feel like I’ve been inspired by Yin Pei all over again.]

[I started watching Feather of Youth because of Lu Xu’s looks, but after watching the film, I genuinely fell in love with the character Yin Pei.]

[+1+1.]

After three exhausting rounds, Lu Xu was drenched in sweat. Yet, just as the match ended, he suddenly turned, stepped to the edge of the court nearest the audience, and handed the racket he had used during the match to the fans in the front row.

[Ahhhhh, I want it too!]

[The T-shirt! Is it coming off or not? This is really important to me!!]

[Also super important to me +1!]

[…Puppy, you’re an adult now. It’s time to do things that only adults can do. [Serious face]]

[I just remembered Meng Xun saying that Puppy can only sell his looks to bring in box office sales. It’s hilarious—he clearly doesn’t want to sell at all. But if he ever did decide to sell, I’d buy willingly and happily!]

[Buy, buy, buy! I’d absolutely buy it!]

For the fans, the fact that Lu Xu didn’t take off his T-shirt was admittedly a bit of a disappointment. But—soaked with sweat, that thin layer of fabric clinging to his skin somehow became even more enticing.

Whether it was his dry, slightly cracked lips or the way his Adam’s apple stood out more clearly because of the sweat… those who understood would understand.

And clearly, the fans understood.

In short, the fans’ screams continued nonstop throughout the entire event. Even Guo Yingyu couldn’t help muttering to herself, wondering if she should sell some Lu Xu photos to make a bit of money.

“Can that actually make money?” Lu Xu asked, puzzled.

“Do you have no idea how popular you are?” Guo Yingyu pulled out her phone and opened a shopping app. “It’s worth a lot, okay?”

“There are even people buying limited-edition or hand-drawn pictures.”

Lu Xu: “…”

The “hand-drawn” pictures she referred to were scenes like the one where Zheng Xiao had stolen his bicycle, forcing him to sprint desperately on foot while Shao Yao pedaled away behind him.

Could everyone just stop being so idle?

Do something meaningful, please?

“This isn’t meaningful?” Guo Yingyu gave him a sneering, exaggerated “evil charm” smile. Lu Xu really wanted to tell her to stop tilting her mouth like that—it looked way too greasy.

Guo Yingyu scrolled further down the screen and showed him the pricing page. “See this? One photo for 1,888 yuan.”

Lu Xu: “…”

Excuse me—where’s my copyright fee?

He could secretly take those photos without telling Zheng Xiao and Shao Yao—they had to pay the price for making him leave behind such embarrassing moments.

Under Guo Yingyu’s guidance, Lu Xu finally realized that he himself was part of an entire industrial chain.

It wasn’t like fans were pooling funds to buy beachfront mansions because of him—something Lu Xu firmly opposed. Feiyang Entertainment also kept a close watch on such matters. Plus, Lu Xu rarely participated in events and never accepted gifts from fans.

He didn’t even accept physical letters.

If fans wanted to write to him, they could send an email. His assistant would read them and filter some for Lu Xu to personally reply to.

The reason he didn’t accept physical letters was that, in Lu Xu’s opinion, accepting them could lead to receiving physical gifts next. And he was already wealthy enough. Fans watching his dramas or movies was already a tremendous show of support.

So, the “industrial chain” revolved around writing, drawing, and making videos.

As for fanfiction… he’d already seen Lu Xu x Zheng Xiao, Lu Xu x Shao Yao, and even more bizarre ones like When Lu Xu Becomes a Dog, Lu Xu x Qin Zhao, and Lu Xu x Bicycle, among countless other pairings.

Unable to resist the sheer absurdity, he clicked on Lu Xu x Bicycle.

The story began like this:

[I was just an ordinary mountain bike, but one day, I discovered I had turned into a human.]

And the ending went like this:

[My steel frame, my cold heart—how can I ever embrace the warmth of you? In this moment, I hate myself…]

Lu Xu: “…”

Don’t bother with the hugging. A bicycle is meant to be ridden.

Guo Yingyu criticized his reaction. “You just don’t understand the romance of metal and machinery.”

“No matter how romantic it is, humans can’t settle down with a mountain bike,” Hu Yan cut in bluntly, even more straightforward than Lu Xu. “This isn’t even about reproductive isolation anymore. Can a bicycle even be considered a species?”

When it came to fan art, most of it was fairly normal, with a focus on character-centric illustrations. However, some ventured into bizarre territory, proving the boundless creativity of the human imagination.

Lu Xu chose to pretend he didn’t see anything.

The most conventional fan creations were videos, which often mixed his roles into chaotic crossovers. The latest was titled “The Student Council President and the Badminton Club Captain”, shipping Yu Wei and Yin Pei together.

Admittedly, since both films were set in modern-day contexts, the editing made it surprisingly cohesive.

Yu Wei was aloof and reserved, while Yin Pei was bright and cheerful, a sunshine-like “puppy” whose presence scattered the rainclouds in the Student Council President’s heart.

The comment section was filled with remarks like:

[The two of you living a good life together is more important than anything else.]

Lu Xu: “…”

He could only tip his hat to their creativity.

That day, Lu Xu felt as if he had opened the door to a whole new world. If given the choice, he would have preferred to keep that door firmly shut forever.

Still, Lu Xu didn’t resent this.

As an actor, the greatest feedback he could receive from an audience was seeing his characters remembered. Whether it led to fan-made spinoffs or inspired fans’ creative outpourings, it was proof that the roles he portrayed resonated with them.

After all, if someone didn’t genuinely love the work, where would they find the urge to create?

Fans often noticed nuances and angles that even the actors themselves overlooked. Those so-called “shipping points” were often rooted in the tiniest of details. Lu Xu thought that in future projects, he might even draw from some of these subtle insights when crafting his new roles.

The celebrity badminton match concluded successfully. The revenue from the event was entirely donated; the Feather of Youth production team didn’t take a single penny. Neither Lu Xu nor the others accepted any appearance fees, with all proceeds going toward buying badminton equipment and building courts.

It was the least they could do.

As December rolled around and the Christmas and New Year holiday seasons approached, Feather of Youth began to see its box office revenue gradually taper off. By the time it went off-screen, the movie had earned a total of 1.66 billion yuan, ranking 12th among the year’s theatrical releases.

In terms of profit margins, however, Feather of Youth ranked first, with a jaw-dropping profit rate of 3,000%.

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