Chapter 177: Joining the Crew
Whatever Liu Rennong was thinking had nothing to do with Lu Xu, but under his influence, the quality of resources Bei Hong managed to secure dropped significantly.
The entertainment industry’s snobbery became even more apparent when someone fell on hard times.
Bei Hong couldn’t help but use a secondary account to curse at Lu Xu for pretending, but unfortunately, people quickly discovered it was his account. Left with no choice, he deleted the post in embarrassment.
Lu Xu couldn’t even be bothered to argue with him, but the comments from netizens pierced Bei Hong’s heart.
[You say Lu Xu is pretending, but at least he has the qualifications to pretend. Do you?]
[This is hilarious. You treat Lu Xu like an imaginary rival all day long, yet your achievements aren’t even one-tenth of his.]
Bei Hong: “…”
He simply played dead, refusing to admit that it was his secondary account.
As netizens put it, Bei Hong truly lived up to being signed under Liu Rennong’s studio—their styles were exactly the same.
…
However, Lu Xu speaking out also sparked concern among his fans—they worried that he might offend the cinema chains because of this, which could in turn affect his next film with Li Yan.
But Lu Xu himself was not the least bit worried.
In his past life, he had been an actor. To be honest, Liu Rennong’s tactics had always existed. On the surface, they helped the cinema chains maintain their profits, but in the long run, they only eroded the audience’s trust. As a result, fewer and fewer people would be willing to buy tickets to support movies.
After all, there were so many entertainment options—watching movies wasn’t a necessity.
Most of the time, audiences didn’t go to the cinema out of deep love for a particular movie; they just wanted to have a good time. In other words, movies were simply a form of entertainment.
If they could no longer find enjoyment in them, they would only drift further away from the cinemas.
Revealing the truth as soon as possible was actually a good thing.
Moreover, Fearless Life was the kind of film that could expand the influence of cinema.
If theater chains only produced lukewarm films, audiences would naturally lose interest in going to the movies. For the theaters, Fearless Life represented a statement: “Movies are still worth watching.”
Not only did audiences need films like Fearless Life, but theater chains needed them too.
As an actor, ever since Deception, Lu Xu had been steadily building audience trust. By the time Fearless Life came out, he had reached the peak of his career so far.
Audiences were willing to buy tickets just for his name, to step into the cinema for him, to analyze the character of Bai Qianshan in detail, and to be moved by his performance. These were the very reasons Lu Xu’s path in film was progressing so smoothly.
Under these circumstances, even if he offended the theater chains and they deliberately made things difficult for him, he could still break through with his strength.
Who would have thought that Fearless Life had only 14.7% of the initial screening slots on its first day?
Beyond that, Lu Xu also had award momentum—he was the youngest winner of the Contention Award for Best Actor in history.
Since the release of Fearless Life, not only had film forums been abuzz with discussions, but media outlets and industry professionals had also spoken up in support of him, believing he deserved nominations for next year’s three major awards.
Some even thought… his chances of winning were very high.
His portrayal of Bai Qianshan didn’t just capture the character’s external form—it embodied his very essence. The original Bai Qianshan had once inspired an entire generation, and through Lu Xu’s performance, the character had returned to the public eye, continuing to influence a new generation.
Film forums had long been analyzing Lu Xu’s acting skills, with discussions dating back to The Emperor. However, after Fearless Life, netizens had reached a consensus—Lu Xu was undoubtedly a true acting genius, and more impressively, a genius who constantly evolved.
His performance in The Emperor had already been stunning, yet by the time he reached Fearless Life, he was still evolving.
“I have no other wish right now—just that when my favorite novel gets adapted, Lu Xu will play the lead.”
“I don’t dare hope anymore, hahaha. If my favorite character had been adapted a few years earlier, back when Lu Xu wasn’t as popular, maybe he really would’ve taken the role. But now… sigh. Seeing my beloved character ruined like that would break my heart.”
Among all adaptations, The Path of Bones was undoubtedly the one that made people the most envious.
Whenever Lu Xu took on a role, he managed to bring out its most unforgettable essence.
The film critic “Movie Diary” conducted an in-depth analysis of the subtle stylistic differences in Lu Xu’s performances across his four films since Deception. The way they dissected his acting was on par with how industry veterans and legendary actors were studied. At this point, Lu Xu had earned the right to have a dedicated column about his craft.
And when Movie Diary published this analysis, not a single netizen found it inappropriate.
Even though Lu Xu was still a newcomer in the film industry, he had already reached a level where he could be compared to the veterans.
…
After the Spring Festival movie season ended, Lu Xu was preparing to join the crew for his next film. He had already read and carefully analyzed the script.
Though it was a high-budget commercial blockbuster, he didn’t feel too much pressure before accepting it. After all, the box office was determined by the audience. The only thing he could do was give his best performance and have no regrets.
Before heading to the film set, he attended a star-studded industry event, one of those rare grand gatherings where both A-listers and rising stars filled the room.
At the event, he ran into Gu Sinian and Xie Qingyang. Meng Qin wasn’t there. Later, when Lu Xu searched online, he found out that Meng Qin had already semi-retired from the industry.
Gu Sinian and Xie Qingyang had both terminated their contracts with Lin Ge Entertainment, but the split was far from amicable. While they simply wanted to break free, Lin Ge Entertainment was determined to squeeze one last bit of profit from them.
From this perspective, Lu Xu getting kicked out early had actually been a stroke of luck.
Of course, the company’s standing had been quite different when Lu Xu left.
Back then, Lin Ge Entertainment was a second-tier agency—wealthy, with a decent roster of signed artists. But now, it was just an ordinary small talent agency. Many of its artists had left, some even taking their grievances to court. In the past, Lin Ge had plenty of ways to control its artists, but now, even if it tried to use blackmail material, it couldn’t stop Xie Qingyang and Gu Sinian from leaving.
At the event, Lu Xu was surrounded by people—directors, screenwriters, and top actors. Even those who weren’t particularly familiar with him still made an effort to chat with him.
Meanwhile, Gu Sinian and Xie Qingyang remained in a corner of the venue. Many celebrities recognized them, knew who they were, but few approached to say hello.
“It’s because Lu Xu has already grown into a towering tree.”
Despite focusing solely on acting and limiting his investments to the film industry, with no interest in expanding his social network or getting involved in the power struggles of capital and entertainment factions, his consistency in this approach had earned him the audience’s trust. It also made industry heavyweights more willing to collaborate with him.
As an actor, Lu Xu was a safe bet. On top of that, his ability to generate box office revenue was undeniable.
Supporting Gu Sinian and Xie Qingyang wouldn’t necessarily offend Lu Xu, but everyone preferred to maintain a good relationship with him. If an opportunity to collaborate with Lu Xu arose in the future, having supported his former agency rivals could very well be a black mark against them.
[It feels like almost no one remembers Verse anymore. The place where Verse has the highest presence now is probably just Lu Xu’s Baidu page.]
Lu Xu and the other three had all debuted from Verse, yet their fates couldn’t have been more different. To put it simply, Lu Xu had seized every opportunity that came his way, while the other three had squandered theirs to varying degrees.
If they had enough talent, there would still be a chance for a comeback—but unfortunately, Xie Qingyang and Gu Sinian were not among those with that possibility.
[I don’t feel even a bit of sympathy. Seeing the three of them together, the only word that comes to mind is—karma!]
[As a Lu Xu fan, I just want to howl at the sky! Hahaha! I’ve been holding onto this grudge since the Verse debut days, and finally, justice is served! They deserved it for b*llying Lu Puppy!]
For Lu Xu, this unexpected encounter was nothing more than a coincidence. Facing Gu Sinian and Xie Qingyang again, he no longer felt any emotional ripples.
After all, he had never been the one they b*llied.
Lu Xu didn’t even see this as a revenge story—just a natural course correction.
Shouldn’t good people receive good karma?
The original owner of this body had endured so much malice. If those responsible were now struggling, well… that was simply how things should be.
—
In early April, Lu Xu officially joined the cast of Observing the Stars at Night. The title was only provisional, and the team planned to decide on a final name after filming.
Despite the temporary title, fans immediately felt that the movie was a perfect fit for Lu Xu.
[LMAO, isn’t this basically Lu Xu’s whole metaphysics vibe?]
[Lu Xu looked up at the stars at night and saw Liu Rennong’s star falling… and before that, so many others had already fallen.]
[???? Is Lu Xu about to become ‘Master Tire Daoist’?! 😂😂 I seriously want to join Lu Puppy’s Bicycle Cult.]
…
After joining the Observing the Stars at Night crew, Lu Xu’s first major task wasn’t filming—it was getting his character’s look finalized.
Since Observing the Stars at Night was a fantasy blockbuster, it naturally involved many CGI-heavy scenes. As the lead actor, Lu Xu’s character design was crucial. Before he even joined the set, the production team had already created over ten different looks for him, eventually settling on the one they believed best suited both his character and the film’s aesthetic.
However, during the first scene shot after finalizing his look, Lu Xu was the first to point out that something felt off.
Director Yue Chen was puzzled, and Li Yan was equally curious.
The production team had gone to great lengths to cast Lu Xu in this role, so it was unlikely they would give him an unsuitable costume.
But Lu Xu’s expression was serious—he clearly wasn’t just nitpicking. Seeing this, Yue Chen patiently listened to his reasoning.
Lu Xu opened the script, marked a few lines in the earlier pages, then flipped to a later section. “My character should have a more grounded, humble appearance—this look is too ethereal.”
“If my interpretation is off, we can discuss it further.”
Lu Xu genuinely felt his current look didn’t match the character. Either there was an inconsistency in the script that needed fixing, or the costume design required adjustments.
Though it was a minor detail, Lu Xu wasn’t one to ignore doubts. Since he had concerns, he wanted to resolve them before filming officially began.
To accommodate this project, Lu Xu had cleared his entire schedule for the year. In fact, based on Li Yan and the director’s planning, the filming timeline for Observing the Stars at Night might even be extended.
Lu Xu was on board with this—if more time was needed, he was fully willing to cooperate.
He wasn’t being overly meticulous; rather, he understood that this film would require more effort than others.
Since he was dedicating so much to it, he naturally wanted the final product to be as good as possible.
