Chapter 138: No Award
Lives Beyond Death the Chivalry had already concluded, yet Reverse City still hadn’t notified Lu Xu to join the production. Xu Wen hadn’t arranged any new work for him either, leaving Lu Xu with an unusually idle life.
It was truly, utterly, completely idle.
So much so that Lu Xu secretly wondered if his agent was holding back a big project and waiting for the right moment to drop it on him.
Xu Wen denied it without hesitation. “Do I seem like that kind of person?”
“You’re not?” Lu Xu shot him a sideways glance.
Previously, he could still go cycling with Zheng Xiao and Shao Yao, but both of them had recently started filming new projects, making it impossible to coordinate their schedules. With no other choice, Lu Xu let himself become a couch potato.
He had to admit—life without work was incredibly comfortable. Just lying around was dangerously addictive.
However—his leisure was soon disrupted by the upcoming Golden Flame Awards ceremony.
For this year’s Golden Flame Awards, Lu Xu had already prepared himself to be just a nominee with no expectations of winning.
Neither the impact of his work nor his own performance in Feather of Youth could truly compete with the other contenders.
But being nominated was an achievement in itself.
Even though Lu Xu hadn’t aggressively marketed himself, as awards season approached, industry insiders and audiences naturally turned their attention to various nominations.
After all, the Golden Flame Awards were one of the three major film awards, and a Best Actor nomination was far from insignificant.
In fact, because this was Lu Xu’s first foray into the film industry, he hadn’t yet realized just how important a Golden Flame Best Actor nomination truly was.
Not to mention how Qi Di was secretly gritting his teeth in resentment—even G-brand, which had been responsible for Lu Xu’s formal wear and casual styling for years, treated this occasion with the same level of seriousness as the Stellar Awards ceremony.
Back when When I Was 18 was up for the Stellar Awards, Lu Xu had been a strong contender for Best Actor. In contrast, for this year’s Golden Flame Awards, his chances of winning were practically zero.
The divide between the film and television industries manifested in every possible way.
…
The record-breaking popularity of Lives Beyond Death the Chivalry had momentarily shifted public attention away from Lu Xu’s Golden Flame nomination. However, the moment the show concluded, discussions about whether Lu Xu even deserved a Golden Flame nomination flared up again.
[The Feather of Youth movie was decent, but a Golden Flame nomination? Isn’t that a bit too hasty?]
[Is it just because Feather of Youth is overly positive? Or is the Golden Flame Awards trying to promote young actors? If we’re talking about ‘young actors,’ has anyone counted how many advantages Lu Xu has been given?]
Rumor had it that a staunch traditionalist in the film industry had openly claimed that TV actors lacked proper training. According to him, television awards like the Stellar Awards could “tolerate” non-academy-trained actors, but the Golden Flame Awards shouldn’t lower its standards like that.
When this industry veteran found out that Lu Xu had originally debuted in an idol group, he was so shocked that he couldn’t even speak.
“Couldn’t speak? Did his blood pressure spike?”
Xu Wen shot Lu Xu a quiet glance.
“I must be a terrible person,” Lu Xu muttered, scratching his head. “But honestly, his tolerance level is pathetic. Why doesn’t he just put a bag over his head and stop breathing the same air as TV actors?”
His manager sighed. “…Just don’t say that in an interview.”
“Of course not. I’m not stupid,” Lu Xu replied earnestly.
A reporter did, in fact, ask Lu Xu for his thoughts on the industry veteran’s remarks during an interview.
In response, Lu Xu sternly criticized a foreigner named John Logie Baird. The reporter, utterly confused by the string of unfamiliar foreign names, couldn’t help but ask, “Who is that?”
Lu Xu sighed. “It’s all John Logie Baird’s fault. If he hadn’t invented the television, there wouldn’t be TV dramas, there wouldn’t be TV actors, and we wouldn’t have the tragic spectacle of a TV actor being nominated for a film award. John Logie Baird must take full responsibility for this!”
The reporters: “…”
Xu Wen, after reading the interview: “…”
He knew it! He just knew it!
And so, the next day, headlines across major entertainment sections blared: “John Logie Baird Must Take Full Responsibility”—instantly becoming the hottest gossip topic.
[LMAO, never thought of it from this angle before.]
[Lu Xu must take full responsibility for trying to make me die of laughter!]
[I completely agree with Lu Xu’s logic—he’s absolutely right. But personally, I think we should blame Pangu instead. If Pangu hadn’t created the world, then John Logie Baird wouldn’t have appeared years later to invent television…]
[HAHAHAHA this guy is unhinged!]
Once again, Lu Xu was accused of “disrespecting his seniors.” In response, he posted a picture of John Logie Baird on Weibo, publicly expressing his deep regret for having offended the man.
This time, nearly every major TV manufacturer in the country shared his post.
[Boohoo, what did the television ever do wrong?]
[Televisions are just bigger, thinner, and cheaper now! You don’t have to watch TV, but please don’t hate it! XX Brand was the first domestic manufacturer to independently develop televisions, producing the XX model in 195X…]
Lu Xu’s Weibo had practically turned into a promotional platform for televisions.
A few TV drama actors also quietly showed their support, posting pictures of themselves lounging on their couches while watching dramas at home.
Whether it was blatant discrimination against TV actors like Qi Di’s or the unspoken belief among certain film industry figures that drama actors lacked acting skills, it all felt particularly frustrating to them.
But actors who dared to fight back like Lu Xu were rare—practically an endangered species.
Lu Xu, however, had the confidence to do so. He was one of the few actors who worked in both television and film while delivering strong performances in both.
Besides… his performance in Feather of Youth was far from lacking.
It was the Golden Flame Awards that nominated Lu Xu—he hadn’t desperately tried to attach himself to its prestige. The so-called “industry veteran” didn’t dare to question the Golden Flame Awards itself but only singled out Lu Xu. His intentions were obvious.
…
Even after that, some figures in the film industry continued to voice their doubts about Lu Xu’s nomination.
One of them was Zhang Zhizhen.
Lu Xu didn’t even bother responding before netizens had already flooded Zhang Zhizhen with sarcastic replies: [Ah, yes, yes, it’s not as good as The Swordsman.]
Meanwhile, marketing accounts lamented that Song of Tears didn’t get a Golden Flame nomination, calling it a huge loss.
Netizens: […Weren’t you the ones saying the Golden Flame Awards lacked the discerning eye of top international film festivals?]
If the Golden Flame Awards are so clueless, why are you still obsessing over it?
Of course, alongside the skepticism, there were also voices supporting Lu Xu’s nomination.
The well-known film critic Movie Diary even published a long essay, stating,
[Feather of Youth is a simple film, but that doesn’t mean Yin Pei is a simple character.
[A tragic story does not necessarily mean a profound theme. Likewise, while Feather of Youth is indeed a simple and pure youth film, that doesn’t mean it lacks depth. Lu Xu’s portrayal of Yin Pei was anything but simple.]
Movie Diary then analyzed Yin Pei’s character from multiple angles and concluded—Lu Xu’s performance made the role seem effortless. If any other actor had taken on the role, they wouldn’t have been able to achieve the same effect.
[A character can be sorrowful, uplifting, or full of youthful passion and sunshine.
[In recent years, tears, breakdowns, sorrow, and madness have become the standard for judging an actor’s skill. But in my opinion, expressing these emotions is far easier than expressing their opposites.]
As soon as Movie Diary’s article was published, a wave of online support followed.
To many netizens, the reason Lu Xu’s Golden Flame nomination had sparked so much controversy wasn’t about his acting skills—it was because Feather of Youth wasn’t considered “serious” enough. In the eyes of traditionalists, a movie like Feather of Youth had no place among prestigious film awards.
Lu Xu didn’t engage in these discussions about his acting, whether they were praising or criticizing him. It wasn’t appropriate for him to cheer himself on or argue with critics.
His mindset was simple—he had done his best with the role of Yin Pei. He hadn’t let the character down.
Every role will have people who love it and people who don’t.
As long as there were people who loved it, that was enough.
…
The Golden Flame Awards ceremony was indeed grander in scale than the Stellar Awards. Most of the attending actors were top-tier veterans. Many of them had significantly reduced their public appearances in recent years, yet they still made an exception for the Golden Flame Awards.
Lu Xu’s nomination wasn’t going to skyrocket his status overnight. For male actors, true career breakthroughs depended more on box office performance.
Objectively speaking, Lu Xu was already an A-list actor in the drama industry. While his presence in the film industry wasn’t as deep-rooted, purely in terms of box office numbers, he was no less competitive than the other nominees.
Since he had already positioned himself as a mere “runner-up,” Lu Xu remained low-key throughout the event. After walking the red carpet, he exchanged a few pleasantries with people he knew, like Yue Hui, before obediently returning to his seat.
Yue Hui, however, took the opportunity to introduce him to a few actors.
“Lu Xu, come here.” Yue Hui grinned, waving him over. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you guys for a while. Finally found the chance.”
“Li Yan, actor,” Yue Hui gestured toward a man in his mid-to-late thirties.
“This is Lu Xu, also an actor.”
Li Yan chuckled helplessly. “That’s it, Brother Yue? That’s all the introduction I get? You can’t add a few more words?”
“Your whole bio is on Baidu, no need for me to elaborate.” Yue Hui laughed. “But I should mention—both of you are nominees for this year’s award.”
Li Yan was one of the Best Actor nominees at this year’s Golden Flame Awards.
Beyond that, he had starred in a film last year that grossed 4 billion at the box office, making him a rising star in the film industry.
Like Lu Xu, Li Yan had started out in television.
In the film industry, Li Yan was undoubtedly the hotter name. However, from what Lu Xu knew, Li Yan wasn’t exactly welcomed with open arms either.
He, too, was considered an “outsider”—not someone nurtured by traditional film directors or backed by the old-school industry circles. Yet, his films pulled in massive box office numbers.
In other words, the industry needed his commercial success, but when it came to awards, they loved keeping him on the sidelines.
Li Yan had long since grown accustomed to this treatment. The moment Yue Hui mentioned that he and Lu Xu were “competitors,” he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Competitors? Not really. There’s nothing to compete for.”
“Don’t lose hope.”
Lu Xu and Li Yan exchanged contact information. While they didn’t have any opportunities to collaborate at the moment, that could change in the future.
As the awards ceremony began, the results were more or less what Lu Xu had expected. Whether it was Best Supporting Actor, Best Supporting Actress, Best Actor, or Best Actress, actors like him and Li Yan—who were still considered outsiders in the film industry—never stood a chance.
Even though the Golden Flame Awards committee had built up suspense before the event, using the possibility of Li Yan or Lu Xu winning as a way to attract viewers, the outcome was predictable.
On his way out, Lu Xu happened to run into Li Yan again.
The Feather of Youth team was in a relatively better position—only Lu Xu had received a nomination. Meanwhile, the Memory Recall team, which Li Yan was part of, had received five or six nominations but only won one award. And it was the kind of technical award that audiences barely cared about.
On Weibo and various film forums, many netizens were expressing their frustration on Li Yan’s behalf.
Li Yan gave Lu Xu a helpless smile and suggested they meet up again sometime.
Both of them had already prepared themselves for this result, so neither showed any signs of disappointment. Reporters and marketing accounts had been glued to the live stream all night, hoping to catch a moment of regret or frustration from Lu Xu and Li Yan, but they found nothing.
[What’s there to be disappointed about? A guy with a 4-billion-yuan box office and another with 1.5 billion feeling ‘devastated’—should I, with my 8,000-yuan salary, just j*mp off a building?]
…
“You really don’t care?” Xu Wen gave Lu Xu a long look.
Lu Xu waved it off. “What’s there to care about?”
These awards never really favored commercial films. Just getting Feather of Youth nominated was already a win.
In Lu Xu’s opinion, both domestic and international awards seemed to lean toward more artistic films. But if that trend continued for too long, it would only make the awards themselves less and less relevant.
Of course, this was also because the film industry had become increasingly bad at storytelling. More often than not, a film’s plot and artistic value failed to strike a balance.
Lu Xu’s loss at the awards was criticized by several marketing accounts, which claimed that Feather of Youth was never meant to win in the first place. They argued that the film industry was much harder to navigate than television and that awards weren’t handed out as easily as they were at the Stellar Awards.
Lu Xu responded by saying that, once again, it was all John Logie Baird’s fault.
If the man hadn’t been so bored and gone ahead with inventing the television, none of this would have happened!
Regardless, Lu Xu failing to win a Golden Flame Award was a relief to certain actors who had feared he might use it as a stepping stone to skyrocket in the film industry.
Lu Xu’s “mystical luck” was something that couldn’t be ignored.
Right around that time, Lu Xu finally received a notification from the Reverse City production team—the film was about to start shooting.