Chapter 168: Predicting Failure
There had indeed been many script invitations for Lu Xu, especially for commercial films, which were always in abundance. Objectively speaking, among the scripts he had participated in, Deception could also be categorized as a commercial film, while Feather of Youth was a drama. However, since both films had relatively low production costs, they were not classified as major commercial blockbusters.
Industry professionals had become extremely cautious. Investors were reluctant to fund big-budget films easily, and directors were rarely willing to take the lead in producing large-scale movies. In the minds of audiences, so-called commercial blockbusters had gradually become synonymous with star-studded ensembles.
The film that Li Yan wanted to collaborate on with Lu Xu did not have a particularly large cast—essentially just the two of them as the leads—but the investment was undeniably substantial. The film featured many special effects scenes and a large-scale production.
The funding had been successfully secured. In reality, even with Li Yan’s box office appeal, obtaining such a large investment had not been easy. It had required adding Lu Xu to the project as well.
To some investors, having both Li Yan and Lu Xu in the same film was like a double guarantee.
The story itself was a blend of reality and mythology, falling into the category of Eastern adventure films. In terms of subject matter, it bore some resemblance to Sanzu River, but its script was far more fleshed out.
This was why Lu Xu had agreed to take on the script.
His decision was based on careful consideration. His agent had also advised him to explore the commercial blockbuster route.
The top actors in the film industry—the ones most widely recognized by audiences—were always those who stood at the forefront of the box office rankings.
Lu Xu did not naively expect his new film to suddenly earn 4 or 5 billion at the box office. He simply felt that it was time for him to give it a try.
Moreover, the script itself was quite interesting. It wasn’t just some bizarre spectacle—it told the story of ordinary people navigating the world of deities. Strange occurrences in the human realm were linked to divine beings, and the characters played by Lu Xu and Li Yan were tasked with resolving these anomalies.
The film incorporated elements of ancient mythology as well as the metaphysical and horror themes that intrigued the general public. When introducing the script to Lu Xu, Li Yan also invited the director and screenwriter and even showed him the character concept art in advance.
What satisfied Lu Xu the most was that, despite the film’s mythological themes and its inclusion of demons and monsters, the creature designs did not follow the Western-style monsters commonly seen in foreign films. Instead, they were more aligned with the traditional imagery of supernatural beings from ancient Chinese folklore.
In many domestic supernatural films, including Sanzu River, the final transformation of the antagonist often resulted in an excessively grotesque monster—either covered in toad-like warts or dripping with mucus—making for an unsettling visual experience.
As an actor, while Lu Xu was not an expert in special effects, he hoped that the films he participated in would possess a certain aesthetic appeal. This beauty could be reflected in character designs or in the film’s underlying themes, but there always needed to be something that resonated with the audience—something that evoked warmth and admiration.
Lu Xu had hesitated about whether he should take on this film.
After all, the failure of Sanzu River was still fresh in everyone’s minds. If he had turned that film down only to accept this one, it might make him seem hypocritical.
But after some deliberation, Lu Xu read through the complete script several times and ultimately made up his mind to take the role.
If he wanted to do it, he would. He wouldn’t waver just because of public criticism.
Li Yan had also been upfront with him—because Sanzu River had flopped so badly, many actors had deliberately avoided this project due to its similarities in genre.
Before Sanzu River, Li Yan had already met with the director to discuss plans for making this film. At that time, besides Lu Xu, the production team had a few other backup candidates. In fact, quite a few male actors had expressed interest in the project.
After all, Li Yan’s box office appeal was well recognized.
Back then, the production team had high hopes—if Sanzu River performed well, it would prove that this genre had a large market. Even though Sanzu River boasted a star-studded cast and a much stronger lineup than this film, a successful precedent would have given future projects the courage to move forward.
But what happened afterward… well, the whole world knew.
To put it simply, Sanzu River had completely crashed and burned. While the actors who starred in it might have made a fortune, the film’s failure sent the entire genre into oblivion. Investors pulled out, actors who had confirmed their participation in similar projects backed away, and what used to be a steady stream of four or five fantasy films a year had dwindled to near extinction in the market.
The only reason this film was still pushing forward was that Li Yan still had considerable box office influence.
To Lu Xu, Sanzu River’s only achievement was launching Bei Hong—a previously unknown newcomer—into the industry, giving him some presence among rising actors. Other than that, the film’s impact on the fantasy market had been nothing short of catastrophic.
…
[Guess what role Lu Xu just accepted?]
[Best Actor of the Contention Awards, Lu Xu, has confirmed his next project. Anyone curious?]
Not long after Lu Xu and Li Yan had finalized their collaboration, a new post quietly appeared on a film forum.
[A new project? Is it Fearless Life? No way Lu Xu is going back to doing TV dramas, right?]
[With Lu Xu’s style, I wouldn’t put it past him. Didn’t he go back and take Lives Beyond Death the Chivalry before?]
[When a Best Actor does TV dramas, it’s called ‘descending to the mortal realm.’ Usually, it happens when things aren’t going well for them in the film industry, so they reluctantly return for a series. But Lu Xu just won the Contention Award for Best Actor—he’s at the peak of his career. There’s no reason for him to do TV again, right?]
After a few pages of discussion, the original poster finally showed up at a leisurely pace: [Honestly, I’d rather he go back to TV. He actually accepted a fantasy film. The Sanzu River kind.]
[????? Sanzu River??]
[A fantasy movie???? Didn’t Sanzu River try to recruit Lu Xu before, and he turned it down? Is he slapping himself in the face?]
[Because the paycheck was big enough? Speaking of which, Sanzu River had offered Lu Xu a hefty sum, right? I remember it was 60 or 80 million—either way, an amount the average person could only dream of. Now that he’s won Best Actor, his salary is probably even higher.]
[It’s probably not about the money.]
[Then he’s just getting cocky, huh? Thinks he’s invincible now that he’s won Best Actor? Honestly, Lu Xu should calm down. Sure, he won the award, but he’s never proven himself in a commercial blockbuster before. If he really takes on a so-called big-budget fantasy film, I doubt he’ll be able to maintain his current reputation.]
The discussion continued for a long time, with many netizens suspecting the original post was spreading fake news. However, by the time the thread had reached nearly a hundred comments, major marketing accounts and entertainment news bloggers on Weibo began reporting the same story.
Lu Xu was indeed set to collaborate with Li Yan on a big-budget fantasy film.
At this moment, Lu Xu had only recently won the Contention Award for Best Actor, and Li Yan was widely recognized as the most bankable leading man of his generation. But audiences had been burned so badly by Sanzu River that as soon as news of Lu Xu’s new film broke, the overwhelming reaction was one of distrust.
Some people said Lu Xu and Li Yan were getting arrogant, while others believed that their collaboration might at least turn out better than Sanzu River.
[But there’s no way it’ll be much better!]
[Lu Xu probably has tons of movie offers, right? I heard he has priority in choosing scripts among actors his age. Does he have to take this role?]
[…I can’t help but get a little conspiratorial. Could Lu Xu be repaying a favor? Like when Qiao Mengyao took on The Empress—her fans were heartbroken when it flopped, and later, when the production company got entangled in financial disputes, the contract was exposed. Turns out, she had taken the role as a favor.]
[At that level, actors don’t always have full control over their choices. Lu Xu always gives off that aloof, above-the-industry-politics vibe, but honestly, winning the Contention Award probably cost him something. Do you think that award is easy to get? Since he’s in the entertainment industry, he can’t possibly be as pure and untouched as his fans imagine.]
[‘Cost him something’… Care to elaborate?]
[Uh, yeah, I’m curious too…]
That particular comment—“What exactly did Lu Xu sacrifice?”—started gaining massive traction, with a flood of replies speculating about what might have happened behind the scenes.
Then, at some point, a certain user noticed something unusual.
An account with the username “Lu Xu”, complete with a verified red checkmark, had also left a reply.
It was just a simple question:
[Sacrificed what?]
Curious users clicked into the profile and found that it had over 60 million followers. The most recent post was a repost from the official Contention Awards account, where Lu Xu had written, [I’ll keep working hard.]
[? The man himself??]
[LMAO, so even Lu Xu wants to know what he sacrificed?]
[Yeah, what did he sacrifice? Even he’s waiting for an answer.]
As it turned out, the internet’s collective sleuthing abilities were unmatched—they actually managed to uncover what Lu Xu had really sacrificed.
Several days earlier, one of Lu Xu’s assistants had posted a Weibo update, lamenting that his boss had gone cycling in the rain and ruined his bike tire.
[Mystery solved! He sacrificed a bicycle tire!]
[A noble sacrifice!]
[?]
[Don’t be confused, because even after Lu Xu roasted the other three members of Verse, Zhang Che, Zhang Zhizhen, Chen Ye, Qi Di… and so on and so forth, his bicycle tire had always remained intact.]
[You sound so convincing that I actually believe it.]
In short, whether or not Lu Xu had actually sacrificed something remained one of the entertainment industry’s unsolved mysteries—because even he didn’t know the answer.
For now, Lu Xu’s clever reply had managed to suppress the growing skepticism, but it didn’t change the fact that his collaboration with Li Yan wasn’t well received.
Some troublemakers even went as far as interviewing Bei Hong, asking for his opinion on Lu Xu’s decision to take on another fantasy film.
Bei Hong didn’t say anything outright negative, but his expression was so cryptic that it spoke volumes.
Many netizens felt that since Lu Xu had already secured the Contention Award for Best Actor, he should take things slow—one step at a time. Now that he had the trophy, he had the foundation for a long-term career in film. There was no need to rush into a commercial blockbuster just to prove his box office appeal.
Eventually, even Xu Wen found himself dragged into the discussion, with numerous fans expressing their disapproval of him allowing Lu Xu to take on this project.
Lu Xu had no choice but to respond personally. [I took this film simply because I like it.]
When marketing accounts released his statement, the comment section was flooded with remarks like “He’s clearly letting success get to his head” and “Lu Xu is still caught up in the excitement of winning the Contention Award—his judgment isn’t clear. Once this new film flops, he’ll obediently go back to picking high-quality projects that audiences actually like.”
Lu Xu: “…”
So, in the end, everything was Sanzu River’s fault.
After discussing it with Li Yan, Lu Xu realized that the two of them were quite similar—they both had the kind of personalities where the more others doubted them, the more determined they became to prove them wrong.
Originally, they had only planned to give this film 100% effort, but with the growing skepticism, they quickly reached a mutual understanding—they would now give it 120%.
Of course, before joining the production for his new film, Fearless Life was officially released.
Lu Xu had been promoting Reverse City while filming Fearless Life, and now that Fearless Life was finally hitting theaters, he was fully committed to supporting its publicity—especially considering all the help he had received from Director Miao Zhi.
Never watched a biographical movie in my life I feel it will be boring, eh is oppenheimer also a biographical movie? I really like that movie ooh so it will be like Oppenheimer