Chapter 163: And the Award Goes To
The awards ceremony for the Contention Awards was held at City C’s grand theater. Though the venue was old, it exuded a nostalgic charm from the past, with filming details reminiscent of movies from the 1950s and 1960s. Back then, films were still in black and white. Unfortunately, time was limited; otherwise, Lu Xu would have definitely stopped to take a closer look.
Returning to his seat, Lu Xu found that the Reverse City crew’s seats were near the aisle, not far from the Palm Trees crew, which starred Ren Ningyi.
Lu Xu noticed that the age demographic for the Contention Awards was indeed higher than that of the Stellar Awards. However, there were still actors who balanced both film and television projects. After all, only a few films were produced each year, and a two-hour event couldn’t possibly accommodate all actors. Moreover, some films were so obscure that their presence was even weaker than that of certain low-quality web dramas.
Lu Xu and Ren Ningyi’s seats were not far apart. When their eyes met, the latter gave him a slight nod.
“Is that Lu Xu?” Ren Ningyi’s friend, Tong Hua, who was nominated for Best Supporting Actor this year, asked curiously as Ren Ningyi greeted Lu Xu from a distance. “He’s moving up so fast.”
Based on the seating arrangement for this year’s Contention Award, the Reverse City crew was positioned ahead of the Palm Trees crew. Of course, as the male lead nominee, Lu Xu had a stronger buzz surrounding his name compared to Ren Ningyi.
Ren Ningyi was a veteran Best Actor winner, returning to the Contention Award after many years, while Lu Xu was a recognized rising star.
But being a rising star didn’t mean Lu Xu’s acting skills were inferior to Ren Ningyi’s.
What struck Ren Ningyi the most was how Lu Xu had started as a rather unremarkable second male lead in a web drama, yet in the blink of an eye, he had risen to surpass even him—perhaps by more than just a little.
Back when The Watchers was overtaken in popularity by My Baby Prince, Ren Ningyi had first taken note of Lu Xu’s name. At that time, what made Lu Xu most eye-catching was his looks—but who would have thought that his acting skills were just as remarkable?
The rear waves of the Yangtze River drive on those before.
Aside from Lu Xu and Ren Ningyi, the nominees for Best Actor at this year’s Contention Award also included veteran award-winners: Film Emperor Hang Xiaguang, Film Emperor and action star Pei Han, and yet another Film Emperor, Song Shizhen. Because of this, Lu Xu was dubbed “the man surrounded by Film Emperors.”
Just by looking at the nomination list, one could tell how fierce the competition was this year.
Lu Xu had made it onto the shortlist, while Zhao Yifan had not. Some people commented that there were simply too few slots available for non-Film Emperor nominees at the Contention Awards—usually just one or two per year. This time, there was barely room for even one, and that spot had gone to Lu Xu.
[If Lu Xu isn’t a Film Emperor, and I’m not a Film Emperor, what’s the difference between us?]
[Look in the mirror, and you’ll see the difference.]
[Hey, that’s a personal attack—too much.]
In a way, Lu Xu was not entirely without hope.
Among the five nominees, he was the only one without a Film Emperor trophy.
As one of the most prestigious awards in the film industry, the Contention Award couldn’t just keep playing an exclusive game with the same group of winners every year.
Lu Xu’s experience was indeed weaker compared to the others, but he had already been nominated for the Golden Flame Awards once before.
For a young actor, that was a significant step forward.
Of course, all of these were external factors. What mattered most was still the actor’s performance and grasp of their role.
Even though Lu Xu played a villain, both the complexity of his character and his performance had been widely recognized. Otherwise, with over a hundred films competing for just five spots, there was no way he would have made it onto the list.
In a viewer poll conducted by a prestigious organization for the “Most Memorable Villains,” Luo Ying, his character, was the only new addition to the rankings—all the others were classic villains from legendary films.
Among the five films nominated for Best Picture at this year’s Contention Awards, Reverse City had the highest box office earnings and the greatest audience recognition. Of the remaining four nominees, three had each produced a Best Actor contender, yet the highest box office among them was only 500 million.
In other words, Lu Xu’s character, Luo Ying, was the most familiar to audiences.
While the Contention Awards had long been known for its selective and highbrow choices—something common among industry awards—no award could completely detach itself from public opinion. If it only honored films that audiences had never even heard of year after year, there would be little reason for the Contention Awards to continue existing.
…
The awards ceremony was as grand as ever.
Lu Xu had watched all the films nominated for Best Picture this year. He rarely had time to go to the cinema, so he watched them at home on his TV. Streaming platforms updated their film selections incredibly fast these days, and he had new movies to watch almost every week.
That said, he had never watched an entire awards ceremony from start to finish. They were always too long and tedious. Even as a nominee attending the event, he could hardly believe how he managed to sit through the endless hours.
Unless he won. If he won, he would only remember the exhilarating few minutes on stage—everything else would fade into insignificance.
The award presentation process for the Contention Awards was similar to that of other major awards, beginning with the Best Supporting Actor and Actress categories.
Though some roles were leads and others were supporting, talent had no such distinction. The two winners, both widely recognized as powerhouse performers, had delivered performances that left a deep impression. Even Lu Xu couldn’t help but applaud.
One thing the Contention Awards did better than other ceremonies was providing a selection of snacks. This allowed the stars to nibble while waiting for results, rather than enduring hours of fatigue and boredom.
Of course, only a handful of them actually ate.
The director sitting next to Lu Xu, Mu Lang, had no interest in the snacks, so he stuffed his portion into Lu Xu’s hands. Lu Xu found himself in a dilemma—accepting felt awkward, but refusing would be even more awkward. Left with no choice, he silently unwrapped a piece of candy and popped two into his mouth.
To his surprise, they were delicious!
At least it showed that the organizers had spent some money.
It was common knowledge that, despite their grand and prestigious appearances, industry events often ran on tight budgets. If sponsorships were available, they would take full advantage; if not, the organizers would have to pay out of pocket—something they did grudgingly.
After absentmindedly finishing several snack packs, Lu Xu finally noticed a camera pointed directly at him.
He set the wrappers down and gave a small wave toward the lens.
[Eat a little less, seriously! This is all Shao Yao’s fault! Since when did Lu Puppy like snacks?]
[LMAO, he looked so sneaky while eating, but once he got caught, he just played it cool.]
[A true actor, Lu Xu! Also, let’s be real—hardly anyone else in the venue is eating so openly. @FeiyangEntertainment, did you not feed him enough?]
[…With those calf muscles he showed in Feather of Youth, who dares say he hasn’t been eating well?]
Though the cameras had caught him in the act, Lu Xu genuinely felt that having something to pass the time during these ceremonies was crucial.
He soon started chatting with Mu Lang and Luo Kun. Objectively speaking, their conversation topics were quite limited—openly critiquing other nominees or commenting on the quality of films was off-limits.
Mu Lang brought up Fearless Life, which then led to a discussion about Miao Zhi. Since the topic was safe, Lu Xu answered honestly.
“When does the movie come out?”
“Should be soon,” Lu Xu replied. “Director Miao didn’t tell me directly, but I have a feeling it’ll be released this year.”
“I’ll go check it out in theaters when it does,” Mu Lang said. “I’ll send him a message later and ask.”
That confirmed it for Lu Xu—Mu Lang and Miao Zhi must have a good relationship. Since Mu Lang didn’t even have Liu Rennong’s WeChat, it was clear that between Miao Zhi and Liu Rennong, Mu Lang leaned more toward the former.
…
While Lu Xu and Mu Lang chatted, a pair of eyes in the audience fixated on him from the row behind.
Bei Hong was staring at him.
He had only managed to attend the Contention Awards thanks to his association with Liu Rennong, but that wasn’t enough to secure him a front-row seat. Those were reserved for the Contention Award’s committee members. Since he was neither a nominee nor a presenter, his seat was positioned further back, not far from the general audience section.
Still, just being able to attend gave him a chance to push out a few more media pieces afterward—better than those who hadn’t even received an invitation.
And yet, jealousy gnawed at him as he watched Lu Xu sitting comfortably in the center section, chatting and laughing with other nominees. With a Contention Award Best Actor nomination attached to his name, Lu Xu seemed to be on equal footing with industry veterans, effortlessly bridging the gap.
Liu Rennong had even told him to learn from Lu Xu.
The thought made Bei Hong burn with resentment.
He unlocked his phone and immediately saw a comment: [If Lu Xu isn’t a Film Emperor and I’m not a Film Emperor, then that means I’m equal to Lu Xu.]
Thinking it over, Bei Hong found himself agreeing.
Lu Xu was enjoying the spotlight now, but as long as he didn’t win, all this glory was temporary.
The Contention Awards was an elite and prestigious honor—just getting nominated was already an unexpected upset. Giving Lu Xu the award on top of that? That would be ridiculous—unless Liu Rennong was secretly Lu Xu’s father.
Since Liu Rennong was on the committee, Lu Xu’s chances of winning were as low as they could possibly be.
Bei Hong couldn’t fully grasp Liu Rennong’s thoughts, but one thing was clear—Liu Rennong wasn’t magnanimous enough to elevate Lu Xu to Film Emperor status in an award ceremony where he himself was a judge.
…
After what felt like an eternity, the moment finally arrived—the announcement of the Best Actor and Best Actress awards.
The previously subdued atmosphere in the hall seemed to jolt awake. Camera time became precious again, and the stars, who had been sitting through the long ceremony, regained their energy.
As the award presenters walked onto the stage, the cameras panned to the front row, lingering on the committee members for a few extra seconds—especially on Liu Rennong—before slowly shifting toward the nominees’ seating areas.
Among the five Best Actor nominees, Song Shizhen had the lowest chances of winning. His film, Beyond the Stars, was the only one among them that hadn’t been nominated for Best Picture. Historically, films excluded from the Best Picture race were rarely considered for major individual awards.
However, Song Shizhen’s performance in Beyond the Stars had been undeniably powerful. Lu Xu had rewatched the scene where he roared into a storm three times—it was one of the most striking performances he had studied over the past two months.
The award presenter was Duan Wei, the Best Actress winner from the previous Contention Awards.
Compared to the male category, the competition for Best Actress was slightly less intense—partly because there were simply fewer standout female roles in any given year.
Lu Xu found it unfortunate that The Female Grandmaster had submitted for the Contention Awards, yet its lead actress hadn’t been recognized. In his opinion, she was fully deserving of a nomination.
Perhaps the character didn’t align with the industry’s mainstream preferences. Or maybe it was because the film’s investors were powerful figures in the industry, and acknowledging The Female Grandmaster would have been tantamount to admitting their previous judgment had been wrong. Whatever the case, The Female Grandmaster had been dismissed from the race from the very beginning.
Over the past few years of competing for various awards, Lu Xu had come to deeply understand just how important having a voice in the industry truly was.
Of course, he wasn’t looking down on the other nominees or claiming that The Female Grandmaster was superior to all. Anyone who made it into the Contention Awards was undeniably among the industry’s best. The nominated actresses had also endured hardships beyond what most people could imagine.
As Duan Wei announced the list of nominees, the large screen displayed the faces of all five actors.
Lu Xu’s youth was strikingly evident.
Yet, despite standing among a group of seasoned actors, he didn’t seem out of place in the slightest—especially in the moment when his nomination clip appeared on the screen.
The inhuman aura of Luo Ying was captured to perfection. When his indifferent gaze met the camera, that eerie detachment sent a chill straight to the heart.
It was as if one were being eyed as prey by a lizardman.
An actor playing a villain needed to command a sense of menace—and Lu Xu had clearly achieved that.
Even when appearing in the same frame as the other nominees, Lu Xu’s presence never seemed lacking. But in his nomination clip, the villain he portrayed carried an aura of absolute dominance. Even with award-winning actors before and after him, in that moment, no one could say he didn’t deserve his nomination.
The comparison made everything even clearer.
“The winner of this year’s Contention Award for Best Actor is—”
To build suspense, Duan Wei’s movements as she opened the envelope felt excruciatingly slow.
Then, she read out a name that surprised many—but she herself read it with complete composure.
“Lu Xu, Reverse City.”
“Congratulations!”
In an instant, the lights focused on Lu Xu, exploding around him in a dazzling, fiery brilliance.
**TN
the rear waves of the Yangtze River drive on those before – (idiom); fig. the new is constantly replacing the old
