Chapter 179: Li Yan as a Person
The film Observing the Stars at Night had not only large-scale special effects scenes but also a large number of cast members. Although Lu Xu had many individual scenes, there were also numerous group scenes.
Despite the film’s enormous investment, Director Yue Chen was meticulous in spending the budget. Aside from the two lead actors, Lu Xu and Li Yan, the production team did not hire many big-name stars. However, for roles with slightly more screen time, they still chose familiar faces.
Yue Chen did not intend to overspend. Since the bulk of the investment was in special effects, Observing the Stars at Night could not follow Sanzu River’s approach—offering high salaries to actors while cutting corners on special effects.
Securing funding for Observing the Stars at Night had not been easy. If not for Lu Xu and Li Yan joining the cast, investors would have dismissed the idea of a fantasy film outright.
During the exhausting process of securing investments, Yue Chen felt immense frustration toward Sanzu River. That film had sacrificed its special effects budget to pay its actors, something Observing the Stars at Night simply could not afford to do.
From the beginning, the production team of Observing the Stars at Night understood their position—fantasy films often had weak storylines, so they aimed to compensate for that weakness. As long as the plot met the basic standards, they focused on immersing the audience in the fantastical world they were building, striving to leave a lasting visual impact.
Neither Yue Chen nor Gong Lei had particularly high expectations for the actors’ performances. After all, Observing the Stars at Night was never going to win any major awards—fantasy films rarely did, unless they were adaptations of classic literary works from years past.
However, Lu Xu and Li Yan’s performances greatly exceeded their expectations.
Yue Chen even felt that, thanks to these two actors, the entire quality of Observing the Stars at Night had been elevated—transforming it from an ordinary commercial film into a masterpiece featuring masterful duels.
Even though the film’s pacing was not as fast as some plot-driven dramas, the performances of the two lead actors significantly enhanced the story’s appeal.
Yue Chen couldn’t help but reflect—had he misjudged the positioning of commercial films?
Gong Lei, however, pointed out the truth: “It’s because the leads are those two. Try replacing them with someone else and see what happens.”
Yue Chen sighed. “…Did you have to be that blunt?”
Beyond that, because Lu Xu and Li Yan fully unleashed their acting skills without hesitation, Yue Chen felt that—for once—this fantasy film no longer seemed hollow.
This was a common issue in the genre. Immortals were portrayed as lofty and detached, while demons and spirits were often designed to be so grotesque that they defied normal human comprehension. Combined with exaggerated performances—or even if the acting wasn’t exaggerated, the flamboyant costumes made everything seem over-the-top—the result was a natural disconnect between the story and the audience.
Yue Chen was not a rookie director. Since his debut, he had been making fantasy films. However, in recent years, the genre had fallen out of favor. While there were occasional highlights, the general perception was that fantasy films were synonymous with massive budgets and aesthetics that normal people found incomprehensible.
The investment costs were indeed staggering, but Yue Chen felt that, in some ways, the current trajectory of fantasy films had gone astray. Productions relied too much on visual effects to draw audiences while neglecting the fundamental importance of a compelling story.
Even in terms of special effects, many simply mimicked the creatures seen in major overseas blockbusters. However, a closer analysis of the foreign films that had made a lasting mark in cinema history revealed that the most outstanding ones succeeded primarily because of their strong storytelling.
Mere imitation was clearly not enough—foreign studios had more advanced special effects technology, and familiarity alone wasn’t enough to lure audiences into theaters.
Yue Chen had chosen to direct Observing the Stars at Night because he wanted to incorporate more domestic elements into the film.
Historically, this was a country with a long and rich past, accumulating thousands of years’ worth of mythology and folklore, all carefully recorded by past generations.
As for the legends themselves, even within a single province, different dialects brought about different customs—such as the “corpse herders” or the “Five Great Immortals” of Hu, Huang, Liu, Bai, and Hui. In these tales, even a tree or a bird could attain sentience. In some cases, even humans could ascend to immortality—so long as they did good deeds for the people, the people would be willing to enshrine them as deities.
From this perspective, the fantasy genre had an inexhaustible well of material to explore. The number of gods, spirits, and supernatural beings that could be incorporated was vast. Even in terms of special effects and modeling, there were countless references to draw from. There was simply no need for clumsy imitation.
…
All in all, the core team behind Observing the Stars at Night largely shared the same vision, which was why the production was able to come together successfully.
Before this collaboration, Lu Xu and Li Yan had crossed paths due to Yue Hui, but they had never been particularly close. However, after Li Yan invited Lu Xu to join the film, and after their first on-set scene together, their relationship had noticeably become much closer.
At present, Li Yan was one of the top-grossing actors in the country, but because he had risen to fame relatively late, he had built his career as a lone fighter rather than through deep industry connections.
Even though his films brought in massive box office revenue—several of which he had personally invested in—this did not make the industry more welcoming toward him. On the contrary, many believed that he was stealing opportunities from others.
The overall film market had a limited capacity, and with Li Yan claiming a significant portion of the box office earnings, what were others supposed to do?
Lu Xu found this way of thinking utterly foolish. Audiences wouldn’t suddenly flock to those dull, uninspired films just because they chose not to watch Li Yan’s. Those films, filled with nothing but s*x and petty intrigues, had nothing worthwhile to offer.
Lu Xu didn’t believe that Li Yan was taking opportunities away from others—but that didn’t stop many in the industry from thinking otherwise.
So, in a way, Lu Xu was also somewhat resented within the industry—just not to the same extent as Li Yan. His box office performance still lagged behind Li Yan’s, making him a slightly smaller target of hostility.
Li Yan had yet to turn 40 this year, which was the prime age for a film actor. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, but he had the kind of face that put audiences at ease—something that naturally drew people in.
When it came to acting, Li Yan was willing to put in the work to study what audiences liked. He carefully selected suitable scripts, and through years of accumulating performances, he gradually climbed to the top of the box office rankings.
Perhaps because he had risen to fame later in his career, Li Yan never carried an air of arrogance.
Though still relatively young, he had a wealth of acting experience. He had started as a background extra, slowly worked his way up to supporting roles, and eventually secured leading roles until he found his niche. His early years in minor roles had given him a strong grasp of diverse characters, allowing him to portray them with ease.
At first, audiences loved watching him in crime thrillers. Later, they realized he excelled in comedies as well. Then, he proved himself in arthouse films. Looking back, Li Yan had even played a completely despicable scumbag in one movie—a role so infamous that one of his lines became widely quoted. It wasn’t until he became a household name that audiences suddenly realized: the righteous protagonist they admired now was the same guy who had once played that notorious bastard.
At least, this was the impression Lu Xu got from working with him on Observing the Stars at Night.
Li Yan only had one assistant, and Lu Xu had one as well. Lu Xu’s assistant occasionally ran errands for him, like fetching drinks. However, Li Yan’s assistant had just one job—informing him of his schedule for the day and reminding him of any overlooked details.
In other words, Li Yan’s assistant was purely a work assistant.
By contrast, many celebrities in the industry treated their assistants like all-purpose caretakers—dressing them, taking off their socks, fetching bubble tea, answering calls, and remaining on standby 24/7. Any minor mistake could result in a heavy deduction from their salary.
…
On the first day of filming, Lu Xu deliberately got up early—not to impress the director, as he was long past that stage in his career, but simply because it was his habit.
Lu Xu typically arrived at the set ahead of schedule.
He didn’t want to delay the production’s progress. More importantly, as one of the lead actors, he needed to set the right tone. If even the main cast were careless and unmotivated, the entire production’s atmosphere would inevitably suffer.
Yet, that day, when Lu Xu arrived, he saw that Li Yan had beaten him to it.
The man looked completely at ease, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
But to Lu Xu, it was a moment of revelation.
Truthfully, aside from not being favored by the mainstream film industry and receiving fewer awards than he perhaps deserved, Li Yan had achieved nearly everything an actor could hope for.
He had a dedicated audience willing to support him wholeheartedly. Before Observing the Stars at Night was even finalized, online discussions about him were entirely focused on what his next film would be.
The movie hadn’t even started shooting, yet audiences were already eagerly anticipating it. For an actor, that was an immense honor.
If he could inspire such fervent devotion from audiences, Lu Xu thought, he would gladly trade it for a Contention Award for Best Actor.
Despite setting box office records and delivering standout performances in every film he starred in, Li Yan remained humble. He still gave his all to every role.
When he wasn’t filming, he almost faded into the background. He never tried to make himself the center of attention, never put on airs, and never expected the director or screenwriter to cater to him. On days when Lu Xu had no scenes to shoot, he would sometimes spot Li Yan crouching in a corner, flipping through his script with a furrowed brow, completely absorbed in his work.
Li Yan didn’t have particularly striking features. At moments like these, he looked just like any ordinary person on the street—so unremarkable that, without closer scrutiny, no one would recognize him as the Li Yan.
He also took good care of Lu Xu. It was common for them to go over lines and discuss the storyline together, especially when they had scenes opposite each other. Li Yan always made a point of finding Lu Xu beforehand to ensure they were on the same page regarding their performances before they actually stepped in front of the camera.
By agreeing on their approach in advance, their scenes became twice as effective with half the effort.
Whenever Lu Xu came across Li Yan flipping through his script, he would make his way over. Li Yan, in turn, would automatically shift to make room for him. Then, the two of them would review the day’s performances together.
Lu Xu had mentally prepared himself for Observing the Stars at Night to take anywhere from six months to a full year to shoot. However, after working with Li Yan, he quickly realized just how naturally in sync they were.
They didn’t need to explain things in detail—once Lu Xu started acting, Li Yan would instinctively pick up on his approach to the character and respond accordingly, elevating the scene in the process.
The same was true for Lu Xu.
Li Yan’s performance was something he could instinctively react to. Even if something unexpected happened, the two of them could adapt on the spot, seamlessly adjusting to keep the scene alive.
Li Yan never once tried to outshine Lu Xu. This was a stark contrast to Zhao Yifan, his co-star from Reverse City, who had constantly played power games on set. Li Yan, on the other hand, simply delivered his performance flawlessly, without ulterior motives.
Ironically, it was precisely this attitude that pushed Lu Xu to challenge himself even more—and made the entire process incredibly exhilarating.
The sheer thrill of being able to unleash his full acting potential, knowing that his scene partner would always be able to catch and match him, was an experience beyond words.
