Chapter 139: Submission
Among the main actors in Reverse City, Lu Xu was the first to arrive on set.
Director Mu Lang and screenwriter Luo Kun were slightly surprised to see him. “Weren’t you just at the Golden Flame Awards?”
That morning, large photos of Lu Xu dressed in formalwear had been circulating, and yet just a few hours later, he had already shown up at the filming location.
“It ended early,” he explained.
After the awards ceremony, the winners still had parties and group photos to attend, while the nominees could stay if they wanted to. Lu Xu had no interest in sticking around. The moment Xu Wen called, he took the chance to leave early.
Once Lu Xu joined the crew, the other actors began arriving one after another.
The lead actor was Zhao Yifan, a few years older than Lu Xu. Though not widely famous, he was still a well-regarded young actor in the film industry.
Lu Xu greeted him, but Zhao Yifan didn’t seem to register it at first. It took him a moment before he lightly nodded—without making any eye contact.
Before this collaboration, Lu Xu had never met Zhao Yifan and wasn’t familiar with his personality. However, after just a brief interaction, he quickly realized that Zhao Yifan wasn’t the easiest person to get along with.
At the very least—he wasn’t someone who actively extended goodwill.
Lu Xu had been on other sets before and generally got along well with his co-stars. But with Zhao Yifan, even a simple greeting carried an unmistakable sense of distance, as if the other man was deliberately building a barrier between them.
Curious, Lu Xu asked around and learned that Zhao Yifan was known for being rigid and stubborn—definitely not the smooth, sociable type.
“He has really high standards for acting, so his attitude can come across as harsh. Other than that, he shouldn’t be too difficult to deal with,” a mutual acquaintance explained.
Lu Xu got a firsthand experience of Zhao Yifan’s tough personality as soon as filming for Reverse City began.
The man arrived on set early in the morning, and when Lu Xu greeted him, he barely responded. If they happened to cross paths, Zhao Yifan would act as if he didn’t see him at all.
At first, Lu Xu assumed that Zhao Yifan treated everyone this way—until he witnessed him politely exchanging greetings with Guan Sha.
Lu Xu: “?”
[So, he’s only acting this way toward you?] In the group chat, Zheng Xiao and Shao Yao immediately launched into an analysis. [Tsk tsk tsk, are you really that bad at making friends?”
Lu Xu: […Say something nice.]
[It’s his problem, not yours,] Shao Yao replied firmly. When it came to situations like this, he would always take Lu Xu’s side without question.
Since Lu Xu himself was often perceived as difficult—eccentric and stubborn—yet people still managed to get along with him, it was only natural to conclude that the issue lay with Zhao Yifan.
[Maybe he just doesn’t like you?] Zheng Xiao suggested. [There are probably a lot of people who don’t like you right now.]
Lu Xu had to admit that was true.
[He’s jealous of you. Jealous of your looks, your fanbase, your nominations, your box office numbers. Jealous that you know how to ride a bike. Jealous that you know John Logie Baird.]
Lu Xu: […John Logie Baird has been dead for years.]
[Jealous that you know how to use a comma.]
For every point Zheng Xiao made, Shao Yao responded with a thumbs-up emoji, making Lu Xu suspect that he was just playing along as comedic support.
[Can you at least give me a somewhat reasonable explanation?]
[Why bother analyzing his mindset?] Zheng Xiao countered. [If he has a bias against you, it’s not going to change overnight. No point forcing it.]
[Just beat him into submission.]
…
Zhao Yifan had just stepped out the door when he heard his manager whisper a reminder, “Even if you don’t like him, don’t make it too obvious. Everyone in the crew can see it, and Lu Xu isn’t someone to mess with.”
Zhao Yifan stopped in his tracks. “I didn’t mess with him. I just don’t want to deal with him.”
He especially couldn’t stand how at ease Lu Xu seemed within the crew, as if he belonged there effortlessly.
He admitted that Lu Xu was popular and good-looking, but that didn’t stop him from finding him annoying. Even if the rumors were true that Lu Xu’s acting skills were exceptional and he had even been nominated for the Golden Flame Award, Zhao Yifan simply disliked how high-profile he was.
He himself barely updated his Weibo.
Lu Xu spent his days online, arguing with this person and roasting that one. In Zhao Yifan’s opinion, all of this had nothing to do with an actor’s true profession.
An actor should be more low-key, focus on their roles, and perform well. Popularity and fame were fleeting—filming seriously should always come first.
Zhao Yifan only half-listened to his manager’s advice. “At worst, let Lu Xu come for me. He only dares to target those who are less popular than him, doesn’t he?”
That was another thing Zhao Yifan couldn’t stand about Lu Xu.
Constantly going after those with less fame and weaker backgrounds—what kind of skill was that? Yet, his fans still thought he was righteous and genuine. In Zhao Yifan’s eyes, it was nothing more than bullying the weak while fearing the strong.
His manager hesitated. “…Didn’t he also go after Zhang Zhizhen?”
He felt that Zhao Yifan’s perspective was a little off. It wasn’t that Lu Xu deliberately picked fights with those less famous than him—it was just that, looking at the entire entertainment industry, there were only a handful of actors more popular than Lu Xu.
The ones more popular than him hadn’t offended him. He wasn’t crazy—why would he go after them for no reason?
But the manager knew that even if he said this, Zhao Yifan probably wouldn’t listen.
The reason Zhao Yifan was displeased with Lu Xu wasn’t anything else but the fact that after he accepted the lead role in Reverse City, the industry’s greater anticipation was actually for Lu Xu’s portrayal of the antagonist.
His presence as the protagonist suddenly felt less significant.
On top of that, in some people’s eyes, Lu Xu was the better actor—more capable of bringing out the charm of a character.
Especially considering that several seasoned actors had auditioned for the villain role, yet Lu Xu had ultimately secured it.
And worse… Zhao Yifan had vaguely heard that, according to the script, the antagonist was originally supposed to be older and more mature than the protagonist. The casting should have followed that character setting.
Yet in the end, he, the lead actor, was actually older than Lu Xu.
The reason? Lu Xu was undoubtedly the best choice for the villain in the eyes of director Mu Lang and screenwriter Luo Kun. However, the industry simply didn’t have a suitable lead actor who could match him—young actors lacked the necessary skill.
Thus, the lead role ended up in Zhao Yifan’s hands.
As an actor—especially one with a strong sense of pride—who could tolerate that?
Even though Mu Lang and Luo Kun had chosen him for the protagonist because of his abilities, Zhao Yifan couldn’t stand being placed at a lower level in comparisons with Lu Xu.
He wasn’t some petty villain; he simply didn’t like Lu Xu. And the way he showed that dislike was by ignoring him.
Beyond that, since everyone in the crew seemed to have more faith in Lu Xu, he was determined to surpass him in the one thing Lu Xu took the most pride in—his acting.
Zhao Yifan had always been competitive. The stronger his opponent, the more it fueled his determination.
…
Lu Xu’s scenes were scheduled a bit later. In terms of screen time, he naturally couldn’t compare to Zhao Yifan, who was the male lead.
Besides the two of them and Guan Sha, Reverse City had also brought in several veteran actors. Not a single cast member lacked acting skills, and Lu Xu was actually the youngest among them.
Zhao Yifan’s scenes were shot first.
Although the two of them saw each other on set daily, they didn’t actually have many chances to interact since they had no scenes together yet. Today, Zhao Yifan was filming first, while Lu Xu observed from the side, reading his script.
Reverse City was filmed entirely on location, with several different shooting sites.
In today’s scene, Zhao Yifan’s character, Ji Chongyang, accidentally stumbled into a gang shootout and, through a series of mishaps, ended up joining one of the factions.
Lu Xu had no idea why Zhao Yifan disliked him, but he had always paid close attention to the performances of his co-stars. First, because he could learn from them; second, because it gave him an understanding of their overall acting level.
Just as he looked toward the set, he saw Zhao Yifan—who was preparing for the shoot—silently glaring at him.
That glare was anything but subtle. Most people on set had probably seen it.
Naturally, Zhao Yifan’s manager noticed too. His heart sank, thinking, ‘This is bad.’ But before he could react, he saw Lu Xu—who was sitting right across—look up and glare back at Zhao Yifan just as unapologetically.
Manager: “…”
At that moment, the manager actually felt relieved. Mutual combat was far better than his own artist stirring up trouble one-sidedly.
Zhao Yifan hadn’t expected Lu Xu to glare back and instinctively glared even harder in return.
At that point, even Mu Lang couldn’t take it anymore. He said casually, “That’s enough.”
With the director’s words, neither Zhao Yifan nor Lu Xu dared to continue. Zhao Yifan started his shoot, while Lu Xu went back to reading his script—though he still kept an eye on what was happening on set.
The moment Zhao Yifan began his first scene, Lu Xu paused and watched for a long time.
He had to admit—Zhao Yifan was indeed skilled. Despite acting alongside veteran performers and playing a powerful gang leader, he showed no signs of being intimidated.
More precisely, Ji Chongyang, the protagonist, wasn’t meant to be overly imposing. Zhao Yifan controlled the balance perfectly, delivering exactly what the character required.
“Impressive,” Lu Xu silently remarked.
Although—once Zhao Yifan finished his scene, he turned around and shot another glare at Lu Xu.
Lu Xu: “…Do I look like someone easy to pick on?”
Zhao Yifan was full of hostility, but Lu Xu wasn’t about to let himself be underestimated either.
Unfortunately, his scene hadn’t come up yet.
Left with no other choice, Lu Xu quietly went to nudge the director. But as everyone knew, big-name directors had their own way of doing things and wouldn’t adjust the schedule just because an actor wanted them to.
Mu Lang was already considered one of the more approachable ones, but during the filming of Reverse City, he had fully embraced his role as a tyrant on set—controlling every detail with absolute precision and unleashing his temper when necessary, to the point that no one in the crew dared to make a sound.
Lu Xu didn’t push the issue with words—he simply hovered around the director, pacing back and forth until Mu Lang grew annoyed.
Mu Lang had no choice but to wave him off impatiently. “Fine, your scene is coming up next.”
Luo Kun quietly gave Lu Xu a thumbs-up.
Few actors dared to rush Mu Lang, and Lu Xu was undoubtedly one of the boldest.
His first scene was a direct confrontation with Zhao Yifan.
In Reverse City, there was a pivotal moment where his character befriended Ji Chongyang. Notably, throughout the script, the antagonist never had a real name—only an alias, Luo Ying, which he used while getting close to Ji Chongyang.
There was an inherent irony in this—for ordinary people, even knowing the names of those in power was a kind of taboo.
Zhao Yifan clearly hadn’t expected it. He had assumed his scenes with Lu Xu would be filmed later, yet they were happening so soon.
Still, since it was time to act, there was nothing to be afraid of.
“Isn’t everyone saying Lu Xu’s acting is amazing? I’d like to see exactly what’s so great about it.”
Right now, he simply refused to accept Lu Xu’s reputation. If anyone wanted to convince him otherwise, Lu Xu would have to prove himself beyond a doubt.