Chapter 136: A New Nomination

In fact, Tan Qi and the other fans of Lu Xu had never doubted that Lives Beyond Death the Chivalry could surpass Phantom Realm in popularity. Even the war scenes, which some found boring, still maintained considerable buzz. And not long after this sequence ended, Lives Beyond Death the Chivalry was also approaching its finale—the death of Nie Yunzhang.

The young man who rode across the battlefield, whipping his horse forward, was never meant to linger in this world for too long.

Although Lives Beyond Death the Chivalry was not like Phantom Realm, with its bold portrayals of vengeance and love manifesting into tangible conflicts, it still had many deeply moving moments.

[Doesn’t anyone think Lu Xu’s acting in Lives Beyond Death was absolutely outstanding?]

[Lu Xu’s acting has always been excellent—everyone knows that, right? He’s the youngest Stellar Award Best Actor—what more could you ask for?]

[I know Lu Xu is a great actor, but none of his previous roles moved me as much as Nie Yunzhang. I feel like Nie Yunzhang is the most layered character he has ever played—carefree and uninhibited in the capital, forced to grow up overnight after experiencing war, and ultimately becoming a towering tree.]

[Aaaaah, I totally get it! I completely understand what you mean!]

[Like, when I watched The Path of Bones, I was absolutely blown away. But Yu Yi was the kind of role that obviously required great acting skills—most actors wouldn’t be able to pull it off. The same goes for Huang Luning. But Nie Yunzhang is a role that even an average actor could manage—there are actually quite a few young generals in dramas.]

[I know! The young generals in recent years… all have that fair-skinned, delicate look.]

[Actually, Lu Xu also has that fair and delicate look—at least in terms of appearance. But when it comes to acting… it’s a world of difference. I cried so many times during the battle scenes. It feels like the image of the young God of War has been completely cemented in Lu Xu’s portrayal.]

[Personally, I think Qin Yu’s writing played a big role in how well this war scene was recreated, but the actors’ performances also contributed. For example, take a look at the specific formation here…]

On drama forums, discussions about Lu Xu never stopped. Audiences would always go through phases where they wanted to watch historical dramas, suspense films, detective stories, or slice-of-life shows, and any time these genres came up, Lu Xu’s works were never far from the conversation.

After starring in two consecutive films, Deception and Feather of Youth, the forum discussions revolved around whether he would return to acting in dramas.

And before Phantom Realm, Flames of War, and Lives Beyond Death the Chivalry aired in the same season, netizens had been asking: [When will we get another breakout hit like When I Was 18?]

Now, that question no longer needed to be asked.

With Phantom Realm and the other two dramas performing well, the forums were as lively as a festival.

[Lu Xu should be able to get another Stellar Award nomination, right?]

[I’d bet on it. Son of Heaven was so popular back then, and Lives Beyond Death the Chivalry is just as strong.]

[…By the way, has the Golden Flame Award released its nomination list yet? I just skimmed through it and thought I saw Lu Xu’s name.]

[???? No way. The Golden Flame Award has always been super picky. Deception didn’t even get a single glance, despite its massive box office success.]

The Golden Flame Award was one of the three most prestigious awards in the film industry. Among them, it was considered the most accessible—in other words, it had a broader selection range and a more audience-friendly approach to awarding films, not limiting itself to traditional or mainstream-themed projects. However, this also made the competition fiercer.

Even though the Golden Flame Award had relatively lower entry barriers compared to the others, the year Deception was submitted, the jury had completely ignored it.

In terms of acting, both Lu Xu and Yue Hui were undoubtedly competent, and the other actors also had their own standout moments. However, to the Golden Flame Awards committee, Deception was a rather unusual film.

Its theme was unconventional—neither uplifting nor exactly dark, but definitely a niche production. The fact that it achieved high box office numbers was already impressive, but winning an award? The Golden Flame Awards committee wasn’t quite that progressive yet.

Of course, whether it was the Golden Flame Awards or the other two major film awards—the Contention Awards and the Critics’ Awards—just being nominated was difficult. A film’s genre, the actors’ performances, and its depth of presentation were all key factors in the selection process.

In short, it was never easy for young actors to get nominated.

As soon as the rumor about “Lu Xu possibly appearing in the Golden Flame Award nominations” started circulating, forum users eagerly went to check for themselves.

Surprisingly, there was no related news on Weibo yet, but the official Golden Flame Awards website had already updated.

Naturally, netizens first looked at the Best Newcomer category.

Typically, the Best Newcomer award was the most accessible for first-time film actors, as the competition wasn’t as fierce—after all, there were only so many newcomers each year, and even fewer delivered standout performances.

But when they checked the list… Lu Xu’s name was nowhere to be found.

[Lu Xu isn’t on it? He didn’t even make it into Best Newcomer for Feather of Youth? Is the Golden Flame Award’s bar really that high?]

[…Wait, I just remembered. Lu Xu already acted in Deception before Feather of Youth, right? So he wouldn’t count as a newcomer anymore.]

[Yeah, I think the Golden Flame Awards’ rule is that an actor’s first-ever film must be the one nominated for Best Newcomer. That’s why there were a few years when no one won the award at all.]

Since Lu Xu wasn’t listed under Best Newcomer, netizens continued scrolling through the nominations.

The Golden Flame Awards’ official website was outdated and clunky, requiring users to switch tabs just to access different nomination pages.

Since Lu Xu wasn’t listed under Best Newcomer, the most logical place he could appear in the nominations was…

[Is that even possible?]

Despite their doubts, netizens still clicked into the Best Actor nomination page.

The five nominees were all well-established names in the industry—and there it was. Feather of Youth had taken one of the spots.

[Holy shit! Lu Xu actually got nominated!]

[?????? This is insane!!]

[I could accept him getting nominated for dramas, but for a film too?!!]

In the eyes of netizens, the Golden Flame Awards had always been notoriously strict toward actors transitioning from television to film. Whether it was due to the jury’s arrogance or a genuine difference in acting styles between the two mediums, drama actors rarely received recognition in the film industry.

But Lu Xu’s nomination was undeniably shocking to the forum users.

Not long after, the hashtag #Lu Xu Nominated For Golden Flame Awards # shot up the trending charts.

And it wasn’t just for Best Newcomer, as people had assumed—it was for Best Actor, a nomination with real prestige.

Lu Xu’s fans naturally believed that his performance in Feather of Youth was strong enough to deserve the nomination. However, to outsiders, Feather of Youth was just an ordinary coming-of-age film, far from the type of work typically associated with the Golden Flame Awards.

[Has the Golden Flame Awards sunk to the level of the Stellar Awards?]

[The fact that Feather of Youth even broke 1 billion at the box office was already absurd, but now Lu Xu got a Best Actor nomination? This completely lowers the standard of the Golden Flame Awards!]

[Now that he’s nominated, other idol-actor fans are probably going to think getting a nomination is easy. Unbelievable.]

[So Feiyang Entertainment is still pulling strings, huh? After making him the youngest Stellar Award Best Actor, are they now trying to push him as the youngest Golden Flame Best Actor too?]

Under discussions about the Golden Flame Awards, plenty of film fans were voicing their skepticism.

Even Lu Xu himself was surprised. He couldn’t help but ask Xu Wen, “Did the company pull some strings for me?”

Xu Wen shook his head. “As far as I know, no.”

The fact that Feather of Youth had surpassed 1.5 billion at the box office had already exceeded Feiyang Entertainment’s expectations. Beyond that, the company hadn’t even dared to dream of award recognition.

In many ways, Lu Xu had crashed into the film industry out of nowhere. He wasn’t affiliated with any of the major factions in the film circle—he had no renowned director backing him and no deep financial ties supporting him.

From the moment Lu Xu started acting in films, Xu Wen had been well aware—high box office numbers were possible, but winning an award? That was another story.

After all, box office revenue came from audiences spending their money. No matter how powerful or well-connected a director was, if their film lost hundreds of millions, investors wouldn’t be happy.

Awards, however, were a different matter.

The seats on the major award juries were filled with industry veterans, influential figures in the film world. These people always maintained a cautious attitude toward outsiders—unless those outsiders actively aligned themselves with the industry’s inner circles.

Lu Xu rubbed his chin. “So I just got stupidly lucky?”

Xu Wen considered it for a moment. “That’s not impossible. But it could also be that the nomination criteria were looser this time.”

Lu Xu nodded. “That’s probably it.”

After all, when he took on Deception and Feather of Youth, he never even considered the possibility of winning awards. To Lu Xu, winning would be a nice bonus, but if he didn’t, so be it. As long as he was doing justice to the profession of acting, that was enough.

But regardless of how it happened, Lu Xu’s nomination for the Golden Flame Award sent ripples through the industry.

First of all, the actors nominated alongside Lu Xu were all highly regarded veterans in the industry. Breaking into the film world was already difficult enough, and securing a nomination was even harder.

Secondly, young actors who had been carefully nurtured within the film industry now felt threatened by him.

The box office wasn’t the issue—everyone had already acknowledged Lu Xu’s ability to pull in ticket sales.

Some actors were simply born with box office appeal.

Between Deception and Feather of Youth, Lu Xu had raked in billions. That was real money, not inflated numbers or marketing hype.

But awards? Awards were another matter entirely.

For certain young actors, awards were their foothold in the film industry, their proof of legitimacy.

Awards were part of an exclusive game—only actors deemed worthy of the film industry, those who starred in high-quality productions, could even participate. Ordinary actors weren’t even in the running.

And yet, Lu Xu had unexpectedly secured a Golden Flame nomination, something no one had anticipated.

Then there was another issue—Feather of Youth had been nominated, while Song of Tears, another coming-of-age film with a deeper message, had been completely snubbed.

That film starred Qi Di, a rising actor backed by renowned director Liu Rennong.

Qi Di scrolled through the Golden Flame Awards’ website from top to bottom…

Nothing.

Completely empty.

Like a giant goose egg.

In response, Qi Di’s fans scoffed, saying the Golden Flame Awards were just a minor domestic accolade, while real recognition came from international A-list film festivals.

Qi Di: “…”

He would never dare say something like that himself.

Forget him—even Director Liu Rennong wouldn’t say that.

Everyone knew international festival wins were just a marketing tool for the domestic audience. Who actually expected Chinese viewers to remember the names of those tongue-twisting foreign festivals?

Domestic awards might have seemed a bit unpolished, but they were widely recognized within the industry and held a strong presence in the audience’s perception. Winning an award meant an instant boost in status.

Qi Di had indeed wanted to be nominated for the Golden Flame Award, yet he also understood that such a nomination was anything but easy to obtain.

But… Lu Xu had been nominated.

Qi Di found this incredibly hard to accept.

However, after suffering too many blows from Lu Xu recently, Qi Di decided to just endure it.

Even if he didn’t want to, Lu Xu’s career in the film industry was progressing far more smoothly than he had expected, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The real question was—why did the reporters, like a bunch of fools, come to interview him about Lu Xu’s nomination for Best Actor at the Golden Flame Awards?

Was he supposed to be overjoyed?

He even had the urge to hack into the Golden Flame Awards’ official website and erase Lu Xu’s name from the list.

Qi Di could only assume that the award’s jury had all developed senile dementia.

Maybe it was a case of dementia spread by Lu Xu.

For Lu Xu, the most immediate benefit of being nominated for the Golden Flame Award was the renewed surge in popularity for Lives Beyond Death the Chivalry.

Awards inevitably brought attention. Back when he won the Stellar Award, the Deception production team had saved a massive amount on promotional expenses.

Even so, when Lives Beyond Death the Chivalry surpassed 15,000 in popularity and was on the verge of reaching 16,000, the industry was still in an uproar.

Two consecutive dramas breaking 15,000 in the same season was nothing short of legendary—a feat rarely seen in the past decade!

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