Superstar Ch.122

Chapter 122: What He Wanted

In the film and television industry, almost no one was unaware of Hong Wu.

This iron-fisted director, who was as famous as Lu Yong, had been nearing retirement in recent years due to health issues, but his influence remained. The status he had today was built upon the reputation he had accumulated from countless works in his early years.

He specialized in serious dramas, with historical and period dramas being his forte.

Back then, one of his historical dramas had been so popular that when it aired, the streets were nearly empty as people rushed to watch it. At a time when dramatized and even wildly inaccurate historical adaptations were the mainstream trend, his work had been a breath of fresh air.

However, Hong Wu’s health had been deteriorating, and he had hardly directed anything in recent years, spending most of his time recuperating at home.

Even so, he remained an unshakable figure in the industry.

Of course, Hong Wu’s fame as a director was obviously not just due to the dramas he directed.

“Director Hong must have made at least eighty or even a hundred actors cry on set over the years,” Fang Qingqing muttered lifelessly at 3 a.m., a cup of coffee at her side as she listened to Ming Li’s voice message. “He never gave face to anyone. Back then, even Best Actor and Best Actress winners had to respectfully call him ‘Teacher Hong’ when they joined his crew. And you think someone can ‘handle’ him? Impossible. Even if Director Lu went himself, he wouldn’t be able to.”

—Yes.

Even more famous than Hong Wu’s hit dramas across the country…

Were his high standards and explosive temper.

He was the only director in the industry whose productions had never featured an idol actor—not even one, from leads to supporting roles. Netizens joked that he seemed to have a kind of “cleanliness obsession” about it, and Hong Wu’s response had been blunt:

“Even professionally trained actors from film academies can sometimes act like absolute garbage,” he had said. “And you expect me to rely on some half-baked performer who switched careers midway? Rely on what? On the off chance that while singing and dancing, they somehow also mastered acting? Are you sure that thing can even be called acting?”

And the actor he had called “an absolute garbage” had just won one of the most prestigious Best Supporting Actor awards in domestic television.

Fang Qingqing: “…”

“So,” she asked with some difficulty, “why would such a big shot be targeting our Xizhao?”

Moreover!

Their Xizhao was just an ordinary, unremarkable rookie actor!

So pitiful, so weak, so innocent!

“…” Ming Li also fell silent.

In fact, that was the first thought everyone at Yaoxin had when they heard the news.

Hong Wu was strict and sharp-tongued, but he always criticized based on merit, rarely going out of his way to call out actors who had nothing to do with him. After retiring, he had registered a Weibo account with his assistant’s help. Though he was quite active, his serious tone remained completely out of place on the platform.

This was the first time he had ever posted such an emotional Weibo update.

After a brief pause, Ming Li finally spoke. “Actually… he didn’t mention Xizhao by name.”

Fang Qingqing: “…”

She silently reread the marketing account’s post.

And realized that was actually true.

Hong Wu had unfollowed Lu Yong and expressed deep disappointment—his criticism was clearly aimed at Lu Yong.

Everyone knew that Hong Wu and Lu Yong had a close personal relationship. They frequently promoted each other’s new dramas and were often seen interacting in private.

So…

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Are we just collateral damage?”

“No,” Ming Li replied calmly. “Collateral damage means redirected anger. What we’re experiencing is—”

“A disaster out of nowhere.”

It truly was a disaster out of nowhere.

The moment Hong Wu posted that Weibo, the narrative—originally already set in stone—underwent an earth-shattering shift.

That was the most frustrating reality of all.

Even though 99% of people understood that this was simply a conflict between two directors—whether it was a moment of impulsiveness in the middle of the night or frustration at a friend’s poor decisions—it actually had nothing to do with which idol Lu Yong had cast.

And yet, when the dust settled, all the backlash still landed squarely on Xie Xizhao.

Because among the three involved, he was the only one with real public attention and discussion value—

The only one countless people wanted to see dragged off his pedestal.

Almost exactly two hours after Hong Wu unfollowed Lu Yong, the smear campaign began.

Within minutes, countless marketing accounts flooded social media with identical posts. On the surface, they were merely “spectators eating popcorn,” but in reality, they were all pushing the same narrative—that Xie Xizhao had used his popularity to force his way into the production. The comment sections echoed in eerie unison, like an army of ghostly soldiers marching through.

Beyond that, forums and marketing accounts worked together in real-time to spread smear posts. Aside from a few sections reserved for TP fans, nearly the entire online space had fallen.

By the time Xie Xizhao woke up in the morning, the discussion had already escalated to speculation about which powerful backer was supporting him.

Standing in the hotel lobby, he froze in place, holding a boiled corn cob in his hand, looking bewildered for a long while before finally speaking at a sluggish pace.

“So… who exactly is this powerful backer?”

At the same time, he took another bite of corn.

Hmm.

Soft. Sweet.

Tasty.

Fang Qingqing: “…”

Dou Fei, who had come specifically to comfort him: “…”

Lu Yong, whose face had been darker than the bottom of a pot just moments ago: “…”

Fang Qingqing’s lips twitched. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Sweetheart, is that the main point here?”

Xie Xizhao swallowed his corn and replied honestly, “Well, aside from that, there’s nothing else I can do anything about, right?”

Fang Qingqing: “…”

For some reason…

Although Fang Qingqing knew that Xie Xizhao was saying this largely to comfort them, his usual calm and unhurried tone still had an effect—her racing heart gradually slowed, and her emotions steadied.

There were only thirty minutes left before filming started.

After breakfast, all key personnel gathered for an emergency discussion.

Almost as soon as they sat down, Lu Yong spoke up directly. “I just tried calling Old Hong, but he didn’t pick up. I’ll try again later. I’ll make sure to explain everything to him. Besides that, I’m willing to cooperate fully with any clarifications.”

There was nothing more to say.

Xie Xizhao was simply out of luck this time.

In fact, when Lu Yong had woken up and heard about the situation from his assistant, he had almost choked on his own breath.

Of course, he conveniently forgot how he had cursed out loud himself when he first saw Xie Xizhao’s name on the cast list. Right now, only two thoughts filled his mind:

First—if that old bastard Hong Wu was so bored, could he just come out of retirement and make a few more dramas instead of stirring up trouble?

Second—he was screwed.

Lu Yong, the great director who had walked through decades in the industry without ever bowing his head to anyone…

Never in his life did he think he’d end up dragging a junior down with him. Especially a junior he actually liked. When he saw the online comments, he nearly blacked out.

Then came the overwhelming guilt.

If it weren’t for today’s filming schedule, he would’ve dragged Xie Xizhao straight to his old friend’s house to demand an explanation.

Hearing his words, the team from Yaoxin finally let out half a breath of relief.

Fang Qingqing said, “Then we’ll leave Director Hong’s side to you, Director Lu. As for handling the public backlash, we’ll take care of that. There’s just one thing—Xizhao got this role fair and square through a proper audition, and you know that too. We might need to emphasize that point in our response.”

Her tone remained polite.

At this stage, it was all about countering the prevailing narrative.

Lu Yong’s words confirmed one thing—Hong Wu hadn’t deliberately targeted Xie Xizhao. Both were renowned directors, and while they might not be happy about the situation, they still had to maintain a surface-level courtesy, especially since Lu Yong was willing to step forward.

Their biggest problem right now was that someone was using this incident to go after Xie Xizhao.

That was the real crisis.

“Of course,” Lu Yong responded without hesitation. “If you need any materials, ask Ziyin. She has everything—paper records, name lists, audition footage.”

He paused before adding, “I’ll also personally post a Weibo statement about this.”

The last bit of tension in Yaoxin’s team finally eased.

Before coming here, their biggest worry had been that Lu Yong would refuse to lower himself to cooperate. If he was willing to step up, then even though the smear campaign had already gained momentum, it could still be stopped.

Fang Qingqing quickly expressed her gratitude and was about to leave to handle the PR response when Xie Xizhao, who had been silent this whole time, suddenly spoke.

“Director Hong… won’t be that easy to handle, will he?” he said.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Lu Yong choked on his tea.

A moment later, Lu Yong finally found his voice. “That guy…”

He didn’t even know where to start.

At this point, it was practically an industry stereotype.

Well—maybe not just a stereotype.

Because the truth was, when it came to idol-turned-actors, unless they had been exposed to acting from a young age, most of them were just decorative “flower vases.”

And the industry did have plenty of directors who cast idols purely for their built-in popularity and fanbase—another form of “paying their way into the production.”

On this point, he could understand Hong Wu’s anger.

Especially because the two of them had always shared the same frustration over this issue—hating to see wasted potential—and had once vented their grievances about it together.

He could almost picture Hong Wu’s shock when he first saw the trending topic. Late at night, emotions ran high, and with that fiery temper of his, his hands had probably been shaking from rage as he typed.

But the moment he posted it, he must have realized it was inappropriate.

Of course, analyzing it now was pointless. No matter what, the damage was already done. Lu Yong knew it would be difficult to convince Hong Wu, and he was prepared to go in person. If it came down to it, he would show him the audition footage.

He refused to believe that after watching it, Hong Wu would still stubbornly hold on to his anger.

Deep down, he even wanted to bring Xie Xizhao along to meet Hong Wu. He believed the kid had incredible potential, and if possible, he wanted Hong Wu to open some doors for him.

Hong Wu was highly respected and had an even wider network in the industry than he did.

If Xie Xizhao could gain his recognition, his future path would be much smoother.

Of course, that depended on Xie Xizhao’s own wishes.

And first, he had to handle Hong Wu.

But then, Xie Xizhao said, “Maybe… we don’t need to.”

Everyone was stunned.

A moment later, Fang Qingqing hesitated and asked, “Xizhao, you mean…”

Realizing his words might have been ambiguous, Xie Xizhao paused for two seconds before clarifying, “I don’t mean we shouldn’t clear things up. What I mean is, if Director Lu can’t convince Director Hong, then just let it go.”

He smiled and said, “Convincing someone to accept something they fundamentally reject is difficult. Director Lu, I joined your project, not Director Hong’s. And I’m not a hundred-dollar bill—there’s no need for everyone to like me.”

Then he added, “Either way, I still appreciate your help.”

—

As they walked out, Dou Fei followed closely behind Xie Xizhao, just a few steps away.

His face was full of hesitation, as if he wanted to say something but kept holding back, hoping his expression alone would catch Xie Xizhao’s attention. But Xie Xizhao seemed completely lost in thought the entire way. In the end, Dou Fei had to clear his throat to get his attention.

At the sound of the cough, Xie Xizhao finally snapped out of his daze. He turned and asked, “What’s up?”

Dou Fei carefully chose his words. “Actually, Director Hong… aside from being a bit impulsive, he’s still someone who listens to reason.”

“Mm.” Xie Xizhao nodded. “I know.”

Seeing Dou Fei’s complicated expression, he couldn’t help but laugh. “I really do know. I’m not just brushing you off.”

Of course, he understood that Hong Wu had acted on impulse.

Unfortunately, in the entertainment industry, unless it was a deliberately crafted “straightforward personality” for public appeal, being impulsive and blunt was rarely an advantage.

He had seen plenty of directors, actors, and idols like that. When they were at the top, everyone praised them. But the moment they lost their influence, people trampled them without hesitation. Or worse, a single sentence could be endlessly misinterpreted and weaponized against them.

Hong Wu, this time, had essentially been used as a tool.

Xie Xizhao was willing to bet that the flood of bots spreading the controversy came from at least three different sources.

One of them might even be his own current agency.

Thinking about that, Xie Xizhao found it amusing—genuinely amusing. He could just picture the PR team stumbling across Hong Wu’s post and celebrating as if they had just struck gold. The sheer absurdity of it all almost made him laugh out loud.

Of course, he couldn’t actually laugh.

Looking at Dou Fei, whose sincere expression made him seem almost naive, Xie Xizhao thought for a moment before saying, “Not only do I know that Director Hong is actually a decent person, but I also know that your mentor wants me to meet with him in private.”

Under the pretense of clearing up misunderstandings.

Dou Fei’s fingers paused slightly.

A moment later, realization dawned on him, and he abruptly lifted his head. “This is a good thing, Xizhao!”

His tone carried a trace of excitement. “You might not know this, but Director Hong is famous for his extensive connections in the industry. He used to be a professor at the Beijing Film Academy—many directors were once his students. Your acting is so good, he’s bound to like you. Uh…”

Halfway through his sentence, he suddenly sensed something was off.

His lips twitched. “Xizhao, were you… just refusing this opportunity?”

Xie Xizhao responded with a simple “Mm.”

Dou Fei felt like he had a mouthful of blood stuck in his throat.

After a moment of silence, he finally managed to ask with difficulty, “Why, Xizhao?”

Xie Xizhao paused for two seconds. “No particular reason.”

He hesitated briefly, then said lightly, “I just think that things you have to beg for aren’t worth much.”

He didn’t mind being misunderstood.

But that didn’t mean he liked proving himself.

He needed recognition, connections, and opportunities.

But at the same time—

He knew better than anyone that those weren’t the only things he needed.

He wanted admiration that came from being truly impressed. He wanted sincere recognition and awe. He wanted everything he desired to come to him willingly, eagerly, without him having to ask.

Xie Xizhao admitted it freely.

At certain moments, he was indeed a stubborn and proud person.

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