Chapter 185: Yue Hui’s Call
This year’s Spring Festival film season was just as fiercely competitive as ever, but it was far less chaotic than the previous year. No one manipulated the screening schedules this time, and every movie fought for box office earnings with real strength, reducing the controversies significantly.
During this period, rumors about Liu Rennong preparing a new film began to spread.
Last year, Shen Wenjie had exposed Liu Rennong’s involvement in manipulating screenings. However, despite the hit to his reputation, Liu Rennong was still able to make films. In contrast, Shen Wenjie’s revelations had completely ended his career in the film industry.
Apart from the fact that he had “betrayed” his mentor, there were likely some hidden forces at play behind his downfall.
Why did theater chains insist on manipulating screening schedules? Wasn’t it all about profit?
Shen Wenjie’s exposé had completely cut off certain people’s sources of income.
There was no denying that Liu Rennong was a master at marketing. Lu Xu noticed that ever since the news of Liu Rennong’s new project was made public, online discussions had begun to surface, claiming, “Director Liu has been wronged. He knows defending himself is pointless, so he’ll use his work to prove himself.” This narrative spread across various platforms, even being quoted by some marketing accounts, quickly swaying a large number of people.
Lu Xu was puzzled. “Isn’t he a director? Why does he need to invest so much in marketing?”
Xu Wen answered matter-of-factly, “So that audiences will feel like they owe him a ticket, of course. Besides, if his reputation is too bad, it’ll be hard for him to secure investors, and later, even harder to sell tickets.”
“You should’ve realized from How Much Do You Know that Liu Rennong has a habit of taking shortcuts. That movie relied on hijacking screening slots. Now that he can’t do that anymore, he’s trying to gain the upper hand in public opinion. For him, fair competition is tough.”
Lu Xu couldn’t help but shake his head. “No wonder Director Miao doesn’t even bother mentioning him.”
When working together on Fearless Life, Lu Xu had already noticed that Miao Zhi didn’t harbor deep hatred toward Liu Rennong. After all these years, even the strongest grudges had faded. Fearless Life had nearly 4 billion in box office revenue, which wasn’t too far off from How Much Do You Know. More importantly, Fearless Life had earned its success fair and square, unlike How Much Do You Know, which had resorted to every trick in the book.
Rather than hatred, it was more like Miao Zhi felt complete disdain for Liu Rennong now—so much so that he didn’t even want to be mentioned in the same breath as him.
Liu Rennong could do whatever he wanted; Miao Zhi simply didn’t care anymore.
In any case, Liu Rennong’s new film, titled Family and Nation, had already garnered plenty of attention before filming had even started.
Lu Xu even saw marketing accounts promoting the film, claiming that Fearless Life had portrayed Bai Qianshan’s lifelong dedication to the country, whereas Family and Nation would take a broader perspective, illustrating the concept that “the family is the nation, and the nation is the family.” They asserted that it was bound to be an even greater film than Fearless Life.
To this, Lu Xu simply responded, “Would he drop dead if he didn’t ride on someone else’s coattails?”
And—Liu Rennong’s shamelessness exceeded his expectations. After everything he had done, he still had the audacity to use Family and Nation as a title.
Lu Xu had once considered Liu Rennong a top-tier director, but incident after incident had completely shattered that illusion.
In some ways, Liu Rennong was even worse than Zhang Zhizhen. At least Zhang Zhizhen had ruined himself for the sake of his so-called artistic ideals. Liu Rennong, on the other hand, only cared about his own success—he didn’t mind if everyone else crashed and burned as long as he was doing well.
Forget being a top director. How about being a decent human first?
Just as Xu Wen had said, Liu Rennong not only expressed his interest in collaborating with Lu Xu but even went so far as to send an invitation. Lu Xu, of course, rejected it without hesitation.
Two days later, Lu Xu spotted his name trending in the entertainment news:
[Award-Winning Actor Arrogantly Dismisses Renowned Director.]
Lu Xu: “……”
Well, fair enough. They didn’t name names. Plenty of actors had won the Contention Award over the years. Since the title wasn’t specific, it technically wasn’t an insult directed at him.
He ignored the trending topic, but an older actor who had won the Contention Award years ago was furious. “Who’s being arrogant?”
The marketing account had no choice but to issue an apology, clarifying that they were specifically referring to Lu Xu.
Lu Xu: “……”
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to respond—he just preferred to rely on himself.
He had no intention of being associated with underhanded tactics like manipulating screening schedules.
The truth was, Lu Xu wasn’t the only actor in the industry who thought this way. Whether it was actors with impressive box office records or those who had won awards fairly, they all valued their reputations.
Even if Liu Rennong didn’t resort to shady tactics this time, the rumors surrounding him would still make audiences suspicious.
Actors with strong box office appeal could achieve high ticket sales on their own. There was no need to work with Liu Rennong.
“He reached out to you too?” Lu Xu was surprised. “Don’t tell me he’s contacted every actor he could think of?”
It wasn’t often that Lu Xu chatted with Li Yan, but during their conversation, Li Yan mentioned that he had also received an invitation from Liu Rennong.
Li Yan laughed at himself. “In the past, a big director like him wouldn’t have considered working with someone like me—an actor who only does well at the box office. He wanted to collaborate with ‘serious actors,’ the kind that win awards.”
“I’m guessing this movie of his has to be a success.”
“Anyone can see that,” Lu Xu replied. “If he fails again, he’s finished.”
Li Yan then shared another piece of information: “Lately, there’s been no news about Shen Wenjie. He hasn’t updated his Weibo in a long time.”
Lu Xu: “……”
“I don’t know anything. It just feels a little strange,” Li Yan said with a sigh. “I just hope Shen Wenjie doesn’t end up losing his mind over this.”
“That extreme?”
If Shen Wenjie’s exposé ended up shifting the whole incident from the entertainment section to the crime section, that would be a bit too dramatic.
…
Liu Rennong had reached out to Lu Xu and Li Yan, and later, Lu Xu found out that he had even approached Shao Yao.
At this point, even though Liu Rennong kept up a façade of being calm and collected in public, it was clear to Lu Xu that the man was grasping at straws.
Lu Xu guessed that finding a lead actor for Family and Nation wasn’t easy—any actor with a shred of integrity wouldn’t want to get involved in this mess.
He jokingly suggested that Liu Rennong just cast Bei Hong. He was part of the “family,” it would save both money and trouble, and he had experience starring in blockbuster films. Playing a lead again shouldn’t be an issue.
Unfortunately, while Bei Hong was more than willing to take the role, Liu Rennong didn’t think he was good enough for it and only offered him a supporting role instead.
Bei Hong wasn’t happy about that. He seemed to forget that Qi Di’s acting career had started with a third male lead role in How Much Do You Know. Back when Liu Rennong was at his peak, even minor roles in his films were highly sought after. Now, he was the one being rejected.
Bei Hong had a habit of using alternate accounts, so he switched to a smaller one and vented about Liu Rennong online until he felt satisfied. Only then did he reluctantly accept the supporting role.
Deep down, he knew the truth—after starring in Sanzu River, he had spent far too long doing nothing. If Family and Nation weren’t a film produced by Liu Rennong Studio, he wouldn’t have even gotten a supporting role. If it were another director’s film, even a second male lead might be out of reach for him.
If Lu Xu had to sum it up, he’d say that everyone working at Liu Rennong’s studio seemed just a little… off.
Something about them was just weird.
…
It had been some time since Observing the Stars at Night wrapped up filming, and Lu Xu was torn between jumping into a new project right away or taking some more time to relax.
He realized he wasn’t as diligent as he had been when he first started acting. Now, he preferred to work for a while and then take breaks in between. But even during his downtime, he still found plenty of ways to grow.
“How about making a cameo as a supporting character?”
Just as he was pondering his next move, Yue Hui called him. “I know you haven’t joined a new production or accepted any recent offers.”
Lu Xu sighed. “Why are you keeping such close tabs on me?”
“It’s not just me. The whole industry is watching. So many people want to work with you—everyone’s paying attention to what your next project will be.”
“Is it really that serious?”
“If you earned a little less at the box office, the attention would naturally die down,” Yue Hui joked.
“Yeah, no thanks.”
Yue Hui wasn’t calling on his own behalf but on behalf of Ren Ningyi. Ren Ningyi’s new film had a ruthless villain role that had already been cast, but the actor had been in a car accident and would need time to recover in the hospital.
“He’s okay, right?” Lu Xu asked.
“Nothing too serious, but he won’t be able to fulfill his contract,” Yue Hui explained. “All the actors who could take this role are tied up with other projects, and no one is available on short notice. Ren Ningyi thought of you, but since he’s not that close with you, he asked me to reach out instead.”
After The Watchers flopped, there had been some friction between Ren Ningyi and Yue Hui. But time had passed, and in an industry where everyone inevitably crossed paths, their relationship had actually improved somewhat after a few years without working together.
“I’ll take a look at the script first,” Lu Xu said.
“Alright, this character’s scenes will be filmed later, so there’s no rush to report to the set,” Yue Hui said. “If you decide to take it, just let me know in advance so I can inform the production team.”
“Got it.” Lu Xu then thought of something else. “Another cruel and twisted villain? Feels like this is becoming my new career path.”
“That’s because you can pull it off,” Yue Hui chuckled. “Otherwise, Ren Ningyi wouldn’t have thought of you right away. That guy is really picky.”
The script arrived quickly. Sure enough, the character was a brutal villain with deep childhood trauma. Years of abuse from his parents and mockery from those around him had left him psychologically broken. As a teenager, he had fallen in love for the first time and given his heart to a girl, only for her to treat him as nothing more than a joke. She humiliated him in public, stomping his feelings into the mud.
Three months later, the police found her corpse in the outskirts of the city, half-eaten by wolves.
Lu Xu: “……”
Was he sure he wanted to take this role?
That said, the character had a strong presence in the script, a complete character arc, and plenty of room for performance. He wasn’t just a one-dimensional villain, so Lu Xu felt he could take the role—or not.
“Just take it,” his agent said. “Might as well earn some pocket money.”
Lu Xu gave him a side-eye. “You think I’m just lazing around, huh?”
His agent denied it instantly. “I never said that. That’s just your interpretation.”
“…Which is basically the same thing.”
Lu Xu shot him a mock glare. “You should be grateful I’m not making your job harder. Have you seen the recent gossip? Affairs, sc*ms, org*es, crime—seriously, is it that hard to just be a decent person?”
It was always the same scandals, over and over again. At this point, Lu Xu felt like he could recite them by heart.
In the end, Lu Xu decided to take the role. He packed his suitcase and headed to the set alone, not even bringing his assistant. Since his scenes weren’t many, he figured he wouldn’t be there for long.
As for his next film, he already had a rough idea in mind.
Lu Xu actually liked comedy films quite a bit, but he wasn’t good at acting in them. Instead, he considered asking comedy directors if they needed investors. Lately, he had read too many scripts but hadn’t found one that truly fit. He had even thought about taking on more supporting roles—too bad his status wouldn’t allow it.
A top-tier actor simply couldn’t keep playing supporting characters.
