Chapter 161: A New Nomination
Bei Hong could not stand Lu Xu. Ever since he took on the role in Sanzu River, both the industry and the media had constantly, intentionally or not, compared him to Lu Xu, always making it seem like he was inferior.
Bei Hong had signed with Liu Rennong Studio before even graduating from university. He had always been a standout among his peers, so how could he accept such comparisons?
Especially after Sanzu River was pulled from release, the media had painted Lu Xu as exceptionally wise, as if Bei Hong, the film’s lead, had been foolish in contrast.
Because of this, even though Lu Xu had never spared him a thought, Bei Hong couldn’t help but treat him as an imaginary rival.
His attention toward Lu Xu was beyond excessive. When Lu Xu took on Fearless Life, he mocked him in private for only being able to take on rustic films. When Lu Xu announced a temporary break from acting, he thought he was just putting on an act.
However, Bei Hong was smarter than Qi Di. Though he secretly looked down on Lu Xu, he never showed it in public.
He was signed under Liu Rennong, and logically speaking, his boss should have been one of the people in the industry most displeased with Lu Xu. Yet, in all the time Bei Hong had spent around Liu Rennong, he had never seen his boss display any negative emotions when Lu Xu’s name was mentioned.
There was only one exception—when Liu Rennong heard that Lu Xu had taken a role in Miao Zhi’s new film. At that moment, a rare complex expression crossed his face. Bei Hong found it hard to describe, but it sent a chill down his spine, like a cold breeze sweeping past.
Though Bei Hong carried himself with arrogance in public—after all, among the younger generation, he was considered well-connected—he never dared to overstep with Liu Rennong. However Liu Rennong wanted to shape his career, he obediently followed along.
However, Bei Hong could sense that Liu Rennong was definitely dissatisfied with Lu Xu. He was just good at hiding it. Besides, while Lu Xu’s career had been smooth and he had made his presence known in the film industry, he still wasn’t significant enough to attract the attention of someone at the top like Liu Rennong.
For now, Bei Hong only dared to mock Lu Xu in private; he wouldn’t go as far as Qi Di, who had taken actual action against him. He had no intention of following in Qi Di’s footsteps—his acting career had only just begun, and he hadn’t made enough money yet. Naturally, he wouldn’t bring unnecessary trouble upon himself.
Still, watching Lu Xu rise to the top of the entertainment industry while he himself was being ridiculed for starring in Sanzu River left Bei Hong feeling resentful.
The worst part was… While the other actors in Sanzu River had received their full paychecks, most of Bei Hong’s earnings had gone straight into the studio’s account. His paycheck wasn’t small, but he hadn’t even touched the money himself. What he did get was all the blame when things went wrong.
And unlike the others, he had Lu Xu as a direct point of comparison.
He felt that if things continued like this, he would never escape Lu Xu’s shadow.
The more famous Lu Xu became, the more comparisons there would be.
His agency suggested that he take the “pretty-boy” route, but from his personal perspective, he wasn’t too keen on it.
Out of all his classmates at the film academy, he was the only one who had signed with Liu Rennong Studio. Why was that? It was because he had real talent, wasn’t it?
Because of this, he always carried a sense of superiority among his peers.
Some of his classmates had gained fame as well, mainly through acting in idol dramas and attracting large fanbases. To be honest, Bei Hong felt a twinge of envy, though he would never admit it.
After all, he was a film actor. How could he possibly be inferior to someone who only starred in idol dramas?
Now that he had to take the “pretty-boy” route, it felt like he was forcing himself into a path he had once looked down on.
To fit this image, Bei Hong even had to undergo cosmetic procedures. Yet no matter how he looked at it, it seemed like the doctors were using a reference photo that wasn’t even as good as Lu Xu’s to adjust his features. The idea of reshaping his face to resemble Lu Xu’s made him feel utterly uncomfortable.
But he lacked the courage to resist the studio’s decisions, so he could only convince himself that it was all for the sake of fame. Once he made it big, he would naturally gain the right to make his own choices.
…
Lu Xu, of course, had no idea that Bei Hong harbored so much resentment toward him. If he did know… well, to be fair, he had mocked Bei Hong once or twice himself, so they could call it even.
He had plenty of imaginary rivals—one more Bei Hong didn’t make a difference, and one less didn’t matter either.
There was no such thing as baseless hatred. If so many people were envious of him, it could only mean one thing—he was simply too outstanding.
During his time off, Lu Xu watched many films. Some of them he had seen before, but watching them again now gave him new insights. He prepared a thick notebook, and for every film he truly liked and found valuable to learn from, he wrote a serious review. In two months, he had surprisingly filled an entire stack of pages.
Lu Xu also read film critiques. He had seen many reviews for Deception, Feather of Youth, and Reverse City, some from industry professionals and others from regular audiences. His own writings, however, were reflections from an actor’s perspective.
Every actor had a distinct style of performance. Even those with formal training came from different schools of thought. For example, several well-known overseas actors carried a strong classical theater influence, which allowed their personal traits to shine in more artistic films.
Then there were the purely method-based actors—fierce and unpredictable, like chameleons on screen.
Of course, there were also some films that Lu Xu felt were overrated. At least in his view, certain actors’ performances weren’t particularly outstanding, yet they received far more praise than their actual skill warranted.
After all, awards and critiques were inherently subjective—it wasn’t as if an AI was handing out scores.
It had been a long time since Lu Xu had immersed himself in such a large volume of films. He initially thought his brain might overload from all the input, but surprisingly, it didn’t.
After all, he was an experienced actor himself. While every performance in these films had its own unique style, he only filtered out the parts that were beneficial to him. Even if an actor’s performance on screen was incredibly moving, if it didn’t align with his current approach to acting, it would only create confusion.
He could learn, but he couldn’t abandon his own artistic direction.
That said, this period of time had been tremendously rewarding for him.
Constantly acting led to progress, but stepping back to observe was also a way to improve.
…
Summer passed in the blink of an eye, and autumn arrived quickly. During this period, Lu Xu kept such a low profile that people almost forgot about his existence. However, as one of the most controversial and stormy figures in the entertainment industry, he had a way of making his presence felt at any time.
This was because the annual awards season was approaching.
The first to announce its list of nominees was the Chinese Film Contention Awards.
Previously, Lu Xu had been nominated for the Golden Flame Award for his role in Feather of Youth, a nomination that had shocked many. However, in the lead-up to this year’s awards season, Lu Xu had barely made any public appearances—no new films were released, and he hadn’t engaged in any public feuds with other actors. When industry insiders made their predictions, they would occasionally forget his name.
After all, in today’s film industry, Lu Xu was not exactly a favorite.
Yet, when the Contention Awards announced their list of nominees, many were taken aback.
Bei Hong, as usual, refreshed the nominations page for the Contention Awards.
He had an older colleague he was on good terms with who had submitted a film for consideration last year. That person had been doing well in the film industry, backed by a major company and possessing solid acting skills. Occasionally, he would even introduce good resources to Bei Hong.
Bei Hong had no interest in socializing with colleagues who were struggling to make a name for themselves, but he genuinely respected this particular senior.
This time, his senior had entered the Contention Awards, and Bei Hong sincerely hoped he would be nominated for Best Actor. The man wasn’t very old, and if he managed to secure a nomination, his status in the film industry would undoubtedly rise another level.
When that happened, Bei Hong would naturally benefit from the connections and resources.
The Contention Awards were expected to release the nomination list today. Outsiders had no way of knowing for sure, but those within the industry were well aware. More than anything, the Liu Rennong Studio had access to the awards committee. However, when it came to the nomination list, even with Liu Rennong’s influence in the industry, he couldn’t sway all the judges.
Bei Hong grumbled about how poorly designed the Contention Awards website was while absentmindedly refreshing the page. Suddenly, he noticed a change—the webpage updated, revealing two empty fields. It seemed the staff were in the process of filling in the content.
When it came to his senior, Bei Hong felt no jealousy. The man was truly exceptional, a standout figure even during their school days, and he had always looked out for his juniors.
Compared to his senior, what was Lu Xu?
A former member of a washed-up idol group, a performer who relied on his looks, signed to some obscure agency, and rose to fame through a mediocre web drama. He hadn’t even trained at a formal acting school, yet somehow, people now hailed him as a representative of the younger generation of serious actors.
Was it really that easy to become a respected actor?
When Bei Hong refreshed the page again, the Contention Awards website had finally updated.
He wasn’t interested in other categories—the only one that mattered to him was the Best Actor award.
His mouse scrolled down, quickly stopping at the Best Actor section. The moment he saw the names, his hand froze.
Because—among the nominees for Best Actor, there was a name he had never expected to see.
Shocked, Bei Hong exited the page and refreshed it before checking again. The name was still there.
Among the nominees for Best Actor was none other than Lu Xu from Reverse City.
How was that possible?
What frustrated him even more was that his senior’s name was nowhere to be found.
Bei Hong double-checked the list multiple times, staring at the screen until his vision blurred, but in the end, he had to accept the truth—his senior had not been nominated for this year’s Contention Awards.
Lu Xu had played a villain in Reverse City, yet he was nominated for Best Actor. Did that even make sense?
What baffled him further was that he could recite all five nominees by heart, and not one of them was Zhao Yifan, the actual lead actor of Reverse City.
How the hell did Lu Xu get this kind of dumb luck?
Why was he considered the lead actor?
Did Zhao Yifan have no objections to this at all?
Bei Hong wanted to reach out to Zhao Yifan and ask how he felt about the whole situation. Unfortunately, ever since Qi Di leaked their chat records, Zhao Yifan—and even his entire agency, Enne Entertainment—had blocked everyone from Liu Rennong Studio, fearing that another unpredictable scandal like Qi Di’s meltdown might happen again.
This only made Bei Hong even more frustrated. The thought that Lu Xu might actually have a shot at winning made his skin crawl with irritation.
He opened Weibo, and sure enough, this year’s Contention Awards’ Best Actor category was already stirring up controversy. The biggest question among netizens was why Lu Xu, who had played a villain in Reverse City, had been nominated for Best Actor.
[? No matter what Zhao Yifan did, kicking him out of the awards race like this is too much, right?]
[Isn’t this blatant proof that Zhao Yifan is being sidelined? The production team looks really bad for this.]
[…emmmm, Lu Xu got a Best Actor nomination while Zhao Yifan got nothing? Anyone with eyes can see how miserable this is for Zhao Yifan.]
However, the outrage didn’t last long before an industry insider familiar with the Contention Awards’ selection process spoke up.
First, the Contention Awards had always allowed two actors from the same film to be submitted for Best Actor.
Second, Reverse City had indeed submitted both Lu Xu and Zhao Yifan for the category.
As for why Lu Xu was the one who got nominated?
The insider left it to the netizens to figure that out for themselves.
