Chapter 136: This Is the Stellar Awards (20% Forum Format)
The air fell silent for a moment.
The surprise that Lu Yong had expected did not happen. On the other end of the phone, Xie Xizhao’s voice remained calm as he asked, “Which role is it?”
Lu Yong replied, “I don’t know yet.”
Xie Xizhao’s expression froze briefly.
As he spoke, Lu Yong kept rereading the message his friend had sent. The so-called insider information actually came from Hong Wu.
Hong Wu had far more connections than most. Ever since the previous incident involving mutual follows, most industry insiders knew that Xie Xizhao was someone Hong Wu especially favored and looked out for. This time, the news came from someone Hong Wu had mentored in the past.
Lu Yong didn’t care about the other party’s motives. His attention was entirely focused on the message itself. He tried his best to keep his voice steady, but his slightly hurried breathing still gave away his unsettled emotions. “No matter what, just getting a nomination is a good thing for you. You’re only 24; this is an excellent start.”
He had only called to inform him. After speaking, he hung up the phone.
Xie Xizhao sat still, dazed for a few seconds without realizing it. Beside his laptop, the tiny dice in its specially made plush nest twinkled softly.
This was truly an unexpected delight.
Although the Stellar Award was considered the most “accessible” among the three major television awards, that didn’t mean it lacked prestige. On the contrary, in recent years, while it had leaned towards dramas with innovative themes and younger actors, its selections had always been widely accepted. Its public recognition was no lower than that of the other two long-established awards.
The drama Tao Yan’s Summer was in an awkward position. It hadn’t secured a primetime TV broadcast, and by the time it aired, the Tianzhao Awards—known for favoring niche and artistic works—had just concluded. It had also nearly missed the deadline for the Stellar Awards. The production team had rushed to submit the film in the final days. Though the materials were sent in, neither the lead actors nor the director had any real expectations of getting nominated.
Of course, nothing was certain yet. But deep down, Xie Xizhao hoped his nomination was for Tao Yan’s Summer. The Seeking Immortality had no shortage of award prospects, but if he were nominated for Best Actor, it would mean that this drama had been noticed. And if his performance was recognized, the show itself likely had a strong chance at other nominations as well.
Still, he didn’t want to ask Lu Yong directly. After some thought, he decided to keep the news to himself for now.
Then he looked up and saw his screen had already gone black.
To be fair, if Tao Yan’s Summer could only win one award, he felt that rather than winning for himself, the show most deserved Best Screenplay.
He still remembered how deeply moved he had been when he first read the ending. In a way, that was what had led him to find and work with Xuan Yang in the first place.
Ever since Tao Yan’s illness was revealed, the drama’s audience had been caught in endless debates. The core argument revolved around one question—should Tao Yan’s illness be cured?
The reason the debate remained unresolved was simple: it was never a black-and-white issue to begin with. The story carried too much complexity within it.
Universal notions of happiness, mainstream values—none of these were things a single drama could definitively answer. Yet at the same time, the ending inevitably touched on all of them. It was the natural culmination of the drama’s tone and the narrative threads woven throughout.
This meant that no matter which path the story ultimately chose, the drama would inevitably shift—from something stunning to something disappointingly ordinary, like a waterfall plunging straight down into mediocrity.
But Xuan Yang made a bold choice.
Everyone had been waiting for him to provide an answer. And the answer he gave—was no answer at all.
Had Tao Yan gotten better?
From the moment he could no longer speak his secret aloud, from the moment he walked out of the consultation room, it seemed that he truly had. He integrated into society, carrying himself like any ordinary young man his age. On the surface, he was completely healed.
But then—
What about the cat?
Of course, you could believe it was just an ordinary cat.
The cat in Tao Yan’s memories was an orange tabby—a common breed. Perhaps he had simply revisited an old place and stumbled upon a stray.
A little stray so similar to his old friend that, in a single glance, it pulled him back to that summer. That chaotic, turbulent summer, which had eventually settled into peace.
Maybe he would reach out, stroke its head, and play with it for a while. Or perhaps he would take it home. And then, they would start a new life together—just as he had when he stepped out of the consultation room and into a new city.
This time, he would truly have a companion. But it would no longer be his sole emotional anchor.
Of course, you could also believe—it was nothing more than a fantasy.
Tao Yan had always been both stubborn and sharp. Would he really have let go of his cat? Had those unspoken murmurs faded because he had truly recovered, or had he simply grown up, learning to bury his secrets deep inside, never speaking of them again?
If you believed that the cat beneath the sycamore tree was the same one that had accompanied Tao Yan throughout his childhood—then these questions already had their answers.
As the creator, Xuan Yang relinquished his right to dictate the ending. Instead, he handed that power over to Tao Yan—and equally, to the audience watching from their screens.
And Xie Xizhao was far from the only one who had been moved.
*
Almost the moment Tao Yan’s Summer released its finale, the drama’s popularity skyrocketed to an unprecedented peak.
Trending at number one was already expected. On the day of the broadcast, a well-known celebrity had been caught in a dating scandal, but the finale of Tao Yan’s Summer held its ground, dominating the top spot throughout.
The trending comments were filled with heartfelt, essay-like analyses.
One person wrote:
[Thank you to the director for being gentle with Yanyan. And thank you for being gentle with me. My life isn’t as tragic as Yanyan’s, but I also have things I want to escape from. When I realized I was actually hoping for Yanyan to stay in his fantasy and live with his cat forever, I thought for a moment that I was losing my mind alongside him. But this drama showed me that this isn’t a radical or unacceptable thought. It’s a possibility—a possibility that deserves to exist.]
Another said:
[Personally, I prefer to believe that Yanyan truly moved on—that he really found a cat to call his own. I’m a traditionalist; I love happy endings, the classic kind. And when I view the final scene from that perspective, I feel warm inside.]
Of course, there were also those who refused to take a side:
[Honestly, I think both interpretations make sense… No matter which one is true, as long as Yanyan is happy, that’s all that matters.
Also, I just want our dear Zhaozhao to be happy too! Please be joyful, baby! QAQ You’ve always been my pride and joy.]
This was an ending too easy to resonate with—so much so that many discussions veered away from the drama itself. But regardless of which interpretation they supported, in the end, the audience reached the same consensus:
[A-MA-ZING! HOLY SH*T, I DECLARE XUAN YANG IS OFFICIALLY MY GOD FROM TODAY ONWARD!]
[Who can relate?? I was watching this while pretending to pay attention in an online meeting, and my boss straight-up asked me why I was crying mid-call. Wuwuwu, my Yanyan, my Zhaozhao, Mommy loves you both so much!!]
[Xuan Yang is a genius, and so is Xie Xizhao… Damn, those microexpressions in his acting gave me chills. I finally get why people call him an ethereal being descended to earth. Bro is insane.]
[Srsly tho, his fans actually call him a celestial being, and YES, I AGREE!! Divine director, divine script, divine actors!! This is hands down the best drama I’ve watched all year—short, sharp, and unforgettable. I’m BEGGING for a second season!!]
That last comment racked up countless likes and enthusiastic replies.
But a second season? That was never going to happen.
Both the production team and Xuan Yang understood the art of stopping at perfection. Left as it was, Tao Yan’s Summer would remain a flawless white moonlight in people’s hearts. A forced continuation would only reduce it to something mundane. But the mere fact that fans were clamoring for more only proved how reluctant they were to let go.
In the two days following the finale’s release, Tao Yan’s Summer’s viewership soared. Some rewatched it because they couldn’t get enough, while others, drawn in by the glowing reviews, started from episode one.
Like an unending tide, the drama might have concluded, but new audiences kept falling into its grasp. And the initial rating of 8.8 from its premiere? By the time the full series had been out for a week, it had risen to a stellar 9.3.
At this point, Tao Yan’s Summer had officially gone from an underdog to a dark horse—a show that started with low expectations but, through word of mouth, became a true phenomenon.
Meanwhile, another event was also capturing the public’s attention.
—
Stellar, Qingyang, Tianzhao—the three most prestigious awards in the television industry—had always been a battleground of intense competition from the moment nominations were announced. This year was no exception.
The frenzy over the Stellar Award nominations happened to coincide with the finale of Tao Yan’s Summer, which somewhat diverted the spotlight. But the drama was considerate enough to end neatly without unnecessary prolonging. While its aftereffects remained strong, at least marketing accounts finally had the space to shift focus to the awards gossip.
[Stellar Awards is here! What were your favorite hit dramas this year? Take a guess at this year’s nominations and winners~ Maybe your fave made the list~]
The comment section was brutally honest.
[LMAO, my fave spent this year doing nothing but picking their toes. No work at all.]
[LMAO, my fave’s acting sucks, and the drama they were in was trash. As long as they don’t end up with a Golden Broom nomination, I’ll count it as a win.]
[This year looks like another battle of the titans… So many great dramas and talented actors. This is gonna be fun to watch.]
That was the truth.
Just like how the idol industry had now reached a stage of intense competition—whether in survival shows or established groups, where everyone was scrambling for a breakthrough—the film and television industry had also evolved. While there were still plenty of terrible productions with rock-bottom standards, the number of quality dramas was steadily increasing. More and more talented actors were emerging, making it a field where opportunities were scarce and competition was fierce.
This was also why, when Xie Xizhao transitioned from idol to actor, both the industry and the public initially rejected him.
To the general audience, someone like Xie Xizhao—who had already reached the pinnacle of the idol world and came with a built-in fanbase—entering the acting scene to compete for roles felt somewhat unfair, as if he were breaking the unspoken rules.
Of course, by now, no one thought that way anymore.
After Tao Yan’s Summer aired, a discussion thread on the forum skyrocketed to thousands of pages. The content was both sincere and hilariously bootlicking, filled with posts like “Thank you, Teacher Xie, for descending from the heavens to bless our entertainment industry.” To this day, it was still floating at the top of the homepage.
As discussions about the Stellar Awards nominations heated up, someone started a dedicated thread about Xie Xizhao.
[Censored gossip: Can our dear Zaowan baby get a nomination?]
1L: Please, I’m begging. The kid is really looking forward to it.
2L: LMAO, did you just translate “Xizhao” as “Zaowan”? What’s even the point of censoring it like that?
3L: We should be careful in the film & TV section. Fan wars here can get brutal. QAQ
4L: Can’t believe I’m living to see XXZ’s fans call other fandoms aggressive… Weren’t you guys out here taking on four groups at once, curb-stomping your own teammates’ fans, and then challenging the entire industry like “come at me, bro”?? Oh, and let’s not forget the passive-aggressive shade directed at your own idol.
Truly the RNG gods at work—today’s target selection seems especially random.JPG
5L: Their combat power is off the charts, but so is their bluntness. The whole Tao Yan’s Summer situation was crazy to witness.
Anyone else in Xie Xizhao’s position would’ve lost their mind already.
6L: I remember the forum predicted this would turn into a whole narrative battle. But honestly, I think it was half and half.
Some younger fans did get manipulated by antis, but a lot of the older fans just have an intense career-driven mindset. They don’t tolerate mediocrity. The upside is that the fandom is ridiculously loyal and ready to fight; the downside… well, as mentioned above, you need god-tier mental strength to survive.
Honestly, in this industry, only Xie Xizhao could handle this level of overwhelming popularity and pressure. And judging by the fact that he hasn’t lost fans but actually gained more, I’d say things turned out well for him.
7L: So… is it happening or not? I really want this, damn it.
8L: Stellar Awards? Did Tao Yan’s Summer make it in time?
9L: If they wanted to make the deadline, they technically could—but I don’t think it’s likely…
This is only his second drama. I’ve barely seen his name in nomination predictions.
10L: We’re in the film & TV section, right? This was the place that mocked his career switch the hardest back then. At the end of the day, it’s just a matter of conflicting interests.
11L: Not to be a downer, but let’s be rational here. I love Tao Yan’s Summer too, but first, the timing is tight, and second, this drama is still a niche project at heart. Forget about all the big-budget male-led dramas this year—he can’t even beat Dou Fei, who’s in the same category as him.
12L: You’re calling the most-watched web drama niche? lmao.
13L: Still a web drama, though.
14L: If we’re talking pure popularity, the gap isn’t that big. I’m serious.
I also think Xie Xizhao is more likely to get a Best Supporting Actor nomination, but no need to put down Tao Yan’s Summer. This drama still has a lot of staying power.
15L: Even a Best Supporting Actor nomination would be amazing…
This is the Stellar Awards we’re talking about.
…
Though many of Xie Xizhao’s fans held onto hope, they also understood that a Best Supporting Actor nomination might already be the best possible outcome.
[It’s okay—this is only Zhao’s first year in acting, after all.]
At the end of the thread, a fan left this message to encourage their fellow supporters.
[Landing a popular supporting role and starring in a breakout web drama in his first year—this is already an incredibly strong start. Of course, getting a nomination would be amazing, but if he doesn’t, we should stay level-headed. Our Zhao has a bright future ahead~]
—
Half a month later, the Stellar Awards nomination list was released.
Xie Xizhao’s fans silently repeated “It’s all about participation” three times before clicking in—hearts heavy with a strangely tragic resolve.
Then, they saw two strikingly prominent lines:
Best Supporting Actor Nominee:
Jing Yin – Xie Xizhao
Best Leading Actor Nominee:
Tao Yan – Xie Xizhao
His first year in acting.
A total of two dramas as a newcomer.
Both roles, simultaneously shortlisted for one of the most prestigious awards in the industry.
His fans were stunned. The entire entertainment industry erupted.
