Chapter 138: The Results Are Set (20% Forum Format)
Although Xie Xizhao had been traveling for the past half-month, it did not mean he was completely cut off from the world.
Fang Qingqing had informed him about his double nomination as soon as it was announced, emphasizing the calmness of public opinion. The subtle relief in her tone, as if they had hit the jackpot, made Xie Xizhao almost want to laugh.
Considering that his journey so far had indeed been fraught with storms and struggles, relying entirely on her tireless efforts, Xie Xizhao offered a few words of reassurance to his manager.
At the same time, he stated bluntly, “Sister Qing, this isn’t surprising at all.”
“Huh?”
Xie Xizhao paused for two seconds before reminding her, “Tao Yan’s Summer just finished airing not long ago.”
Why was public opinion so favorable?
At the root of it all, it was because of his work.
The audience wouldn’t form a particularly good impression of an actor just because they had many fans. But they would unquestionably develop a strong bias toward them because of a great role.
This was what people usually meant when they said that actors let their work speak for them.
With a project substantial enough to serve as a foundation and a character compelling enough to earn people’s favor, any unexpected honor, no matter how much controversy it might stir later, would not immediately make the audience think, He doesn’t deserve it. Let alone the fact that this was just a nomination, not the final award.
So, Xie Xizhao was not at all surprised that the nomination was met with overwhelmingly positive reactions.
What intrigued him more was the fact that Stellar had nominated him for these two awards.
After landing, Xie Xizhao returned to his hotel. The first thing he did wasn’t resting but opening Baidu Baike to look up the composition of the Stellar Awards jury, as well as past winning projects and roles.
This was a massive undertaking. When Xie Xizhao said he was going to “look into it,” he meant actually opening each film and watching them one by one.
By the time evening arrived, he thoughtfully shut his laptop.
Then, he sent a message to Fang Qingqing: [Sister, if a major trending controversy were to arise, how much extra would it cost to hire a professional PR firm?]
—
By the time Fang Qingqing arrived from A City with the styling team in tow, the culprit was already sitting in the living room of his hotel suite, having dinner.
Unlike other indulgent little celebrities, he had maintained the same unpretentious lifestyle both before and after his rise to fame. Aside from the dietary restrictions required to maintain his physique, he actually preferred “unhealthy” foods like braised chicken, spicy hot pot, and skewers. As for clothing, he despised suits, uniforms, and haute couture, and if he could, he would happily wear a single T-shirt for every occasion.
Unfortunately, while ideals were beautiful, reality was harsh. As the sole spokesperson for a top luxury brand in the domestic entertainment industry, his outfit for this awards ceremony was still an off-season haute couture piece, paired with a full set of luxury jewelry. From earrings to rings, every piece on him was a product from one of his brand endorsements, leaving no part of his body unadorned.
The thought alone made Xie Xizhao feel miserable, and even the stir-fried noodles on his plate started to taste bland.
It was at this moment that Fang Qingqing burst through the door, eyes sharp, and immediately fired off:
“Are you in a relationship?”
Xie Xizhao, who had just forked a few strands of noodles into his mouth:
“…?”
He had no choice but to put down his fork and respond immediately, “No.”
Fang Qingqing didn’t give him a chance to pick up his fork again and pressed on, “Then are you… No, that doesn’t seem like something you’d do. Did something happen with your family or friends?”
She asked the latter part cautiously, then suddenly thought of something and looked at him in horror.
“Xizhao, you’re not planning to become a monk, are you?!”
Xie Xizhao: ???
He tried to explain, “Sister Qing, I—”
“I knew it.” Fang Qingqing paced back and forth anxiously. “I just knew that drama crew and script were way too superstitious. It was practically psychological and physical torture. No way. Listen to me, Xizhao, there are still so many wonderful things in this world worth holding on to. We can’t just—”
Xie Xizhao couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop.”
The world fell silent.
He looked Fang Qingqing straight in the eyes, speaking seriously and sincerely, “I’m not in a relationship, and I’m not planning to become a monk. Sister Qing, nothing’s going on.”
Feeling a little guilty, he added, “I was just asking.”
Fang Qingqing held his gaze for three seconds before finally letting out a relieved sigh.
“You scared me to death,” she muttered, then complained, “Why would you even ask something like that for no reason?”
Xie Xizhao looked up at the ceiling.
He hesitated, words at the tip of his tongue, but in the end, he said nothing and silently finished his plate of stir-fried noodles.
Meanwhile, Fang Qingqing and the styling team had already prepared the outfit he would wear.
With everything ready, Fang Qingqing finally relaxed. She looked him over and nodded approvingly. “Alright, very handsome.”
She patted his shoulder. “Don’t overthink it. The Stellar Awards ceremony is the most important thing for you right now. Let’s make a proper appearance and try to outshine the entire industry again. I’d honestly love for things to get so wild that we have to hire a PR firm.”
She paused, then muttered to herself, “Oh, of course, if you actually win an award, that would be even more explosive. But let’s not dream that big yet—better to focus on something realistic.”
Fang Qingqing left just as quickly as she had arrived, taking the styling team with her.
Xie Xizhao remained where he was, chuckling softly before letting out a helpless sigh.
He picked up his phone, scrolled through the promotional Weibo post he had made that afternoon, then casually browsed various apps—until he stumbled upon a particular forum post.
[So, what are the chances that Zaowan Baby will actually get the prize? Not here to hype or hate, this is a genuine Li Tao post QAQ]
—
1L: It’s you again. OP, I recognize you now. That persistent username, the sheer hope and optimism in all your posts—you really love him.
2L: The wild part is that last time, OP actually got their wish. Is this the law of attraction at work? I’m shocked.
3L: If I had seen a post like this half a month ago, I would’ve told you to keep dreaming. But now? I’m not so sure. What if…?
Ever since that double nomination, I feel like anything is possible.
4L: OP loves him, Stellar loves him too—this is mutual devotion at its finest.
5L: Are you guys serious right now? I feel like you’re all messing with me… Can someone normal come in and say something logical? Now I’m unsure too. Could Xie Xizhao actually win? This is literally his first year acting—he’s only done two dramas!
6L: And? What’s wrong with the first year? What’s wrong with two dramas? I mean, I’m just here for the fun, but this weird gatekeeping is ridiculous. How does age or experience have anything to do with this? The youngest Best Actor in Stellar history was 27, right? Is 27 really that different from 24?
Besides, let’s not even bring up Tianzhao and Qingyang, but Stellar has always been unconventional. They don’t care about veteran actors, established directors, industry favors, or public opinion. If they like someone, they give it to them. I thought Xie Xizhao’s double nomination was already a slap in the face to all the doubters.
7L: …Slapping whose face exactly? Is there even a real anti-fan here? Whether he wins or not, random bystanders don’t actually care, okay? If you’re gonna talk like this, why not say it with your real name? 🙂
8L: Oh wow, why are we arguing now? OP already said this was just a Li Tao post. OP is kinda adorable, you can tell they’re just a pure-hearted little fan who genuinely loves Zhao. As an old fan, I find this very wholesome, haha. I just hope Zhao gets more fans who love him for him and not just for his titles.
Anyway, to answer the question from 5L—no one’s really acting here, it’s just that Zhao getting a double nomination was genuinely surprising. Like 3L said, it gave people this feeling that anything is possible. But as fans, we’re not getting our hopes up too much. Just leaving it up to fate. If he actually wins, we’d be thrilled, but if he doesn’t, it’s totally expected—there are a lot of incredible veterans in the lineup this year. So basically… yeah, it’s like rolling dice. No matter what number comes up, we can accept it, haha.
9L: The dice analogy is so accurate, lmao. I get it now. Truly, the goddess of randomness at work.
Honestly, ever since the double nomination, this whole thing has felt surreal.
That said, I wouldn’t even be mad if he actually won. I really love Tao Yan, and his acting was seriously impressive. Some of his expressions were so intense I almost wanted to suggest that actors should actually see a psychologist after taking on roles like that. (Not joking, but also kinda joking.)
But if he does win, the backlash is gonna be wild.
10L: Yeah, judging by the people earlier bringing up age and experience, it’s obvious. I just wanna say… guys, the Qing Dynasty has been dead for a while now… move on already.
11L: Ugh, so annoying. Why is there always so much malice toward him?
Just because he’s always done well, career fans hold him to ridiculously high standards, and passersby love nitpicking. Be honest with yourselves—who in the industry is more dedicated and hardworking than him?
Why do some people with terrible skills still have fans babying them, but the moment he makes the slightest move, people start stirring up drama?
Well, whatever. I’ve gone full reverse psychology on this. He will make big money. He will win awards. He will rise beautifully to the top—let the haters cry about it.
12L: Hugs, sis. Don’t be mad. I think it’s just that expectations for him are sky-high. People have literally watched him grow from an unknown into who he is now, so they hold him to stricter standards.
—
After that, the replies were mostly words of comfort.
Xie Xizhao didn’t feel much about the whole “holding him to high standards” argument. At the end of the day, rather than drawing energy from what others said about him, he was more accustomed to growing through self-reflection and self-examination.
He was grateful for his fans but didn’t depend on them, nor did he waste energy dwelling on public opinion. So, he didn’t bother scrolling further.
His reason for checking the post in the first place had been different—and this thread had confirmed his suspicion:
When it came to whether or not he would actually win the award, the general public was just as confused and uncertain as he was.
That was enough.
Xie Xizhao turned off his screen, switched off the lights, and went to sleep.
The next morning, he woke up on time. The styling team arrived punctually at his room, taking care of his makeup and grooming. Once he was fully dressed in his rare, formal attire, he got into the car heading to the venue.
—
Meanwhile, the media was already on high alert, ready for the grand event.
Whether it was Stellar, Tianzhao, or Qingyang, the grandeur of their award ceremonies rivaled that of top luxury brand events and year-end galas.
The ceremony was, of course, broadcasted live. With consistently high viewership and buzz every year, attending the event—regardless of whether one won an award—was an excellent opportunity for exposure.
This time, Xie Xizhao walked the red carpet with the cast of Tao Yan’s Summer. Alongside him were the film’s key creators: Xuan Yang, Ji Yan, and Zhuang Yinyin.
Originally, Xuan Yang had thought that, aside from Xie Xizhao, the rest of them were just there to make up the numbers. He hadn’t expected the reception to be so unexpectedly enthusiastic. During media interviews, he was bombarded with several questions, and his nerves nearly got his tongue tied.
Of course, the moment they stepped onto the carpet, everyone’s gaze instinctively locked onto Xie Xizhao.
On the red carpet, visual appeal was the ultimate power.
And from the moment Xie Xizhao first set foot on a red carpet, he had earned the nickname “Red Carpet Slayer.”
The so-called slayer meant he had an indiscriminate effect on anyone within a three-meter radius.
His facial structure and bone structure were already top-tier. Over the years, his rising fame had only enhanced his allure. Shedding his once-subtle elegance, he now fully embodied the image of a luxurious, untouchable flower thriving in a world of excess—every movement exuding confidence and poise.
The moment he lifted his gaze, even the cameras seemed to freeze for a second. And then, in the next instant, the livestream chat was flooded with a sea of frantic, ear-splitting screams.
[AAAAAHHHH ZHAOZHAO!! Brother, brother! You look insanely HANDSOME today!!!]
[He looks to good, too perfect… I’m losing it… The entertainment industry is blessed to have Xie Xizhao]
[How does he do it?? Pure and innocent in the drama, BUT A FULL-BLOWN VILLAIN KING IN REAL LIFE. I can’t handle it, I’m obsessed!]
Instantly, the number of viewers skyrocketed, reaching the peak of the broadcast so far.
Inside the venue, after completing his interview, Xie Xizhao followed the production team into the main hall.
He arrived near the final wave of attendees, almost just in time for the ceremony to begin. Barely had he settled into his seat before the main event of the night commenced.
—
One minute before the start, Xuan Yang whispered, “Xizhao, I’m so nervous.”
His eyes were unfocused, looking as if his soul had momentarily left his body.
Unfazed, Xie Xizhao, in the split second before the cameras turned their way, casually tossed him a mint.
Xuan Yang: “…”
Zhuang Yinyin, who witnessed the whole thing: “…”
Ji Yan, whose instincts as a fan had been triggered: “…”
Unlike Xuan Yang and Xie Xizhao, Zhuang Yinyin and Ji Yan weren’t nominated, so their main purpose tonight was just to walk the red carpet. This left them much more relaxed.
Leaning in, Zhuang Yinyin whispered words of encouragement to the visibly stiff Xuan Yang, “Director Xuan! You got this! Believe in yourself!”
Xie Xizhao remarked, “Ms. Zhuang, you sound like you’re running a pyramid scheme.”
Zhuang Yinyin: “…”
How unnecessarily mean.
The next moment, the camera panned over to them. Zhuang Yinyin swiftly adjusted her posture, donning a poised, elegant smile. Meanwhile, Xuan Yang, still mid-chew, froze with the mint stuck in his mouth.
The livestream chat erupted in laughter.
[Director Xuan is so cute!]
[I just saw Xizhao give him candy. Our Xizhao never changes his ways—if in doubt, just hand out sweets.]
[LMAO, this reminds me of that old backstage footage from a fan meet.]
[The Tao Yan’s Summer cast really has such great chemistry. No generational gap at all! Hope they bring home some awards tonight!]
And as it turned out, the audience’s expectations were not in vain.
Tao Yan’s Summer had been nominated for a total of four awards: Best Actor, Best Director, Best Drama, and Best Screenplay.
This was an impressive achievement for any TV series, especially a web drama. However, because Xie Xizhao was so overwhelmingly popular, not many people had paid attention to the rest.
At that moment, as the nominations kept rolling in, the viewers watching the live broadcast finally snapped back to reality.
By then, all the results had been announced except for Best Actor.
Tao Yan’s Summer had narrowly missed out on Best Drama, but Xuan Yang had won Best Director.
When he walked on stage, he was still in a bit of a daze—it was the lingering taste of mint in his mouth that finally brought him back to himself.
He bit his tongue hard and only then found his voice. “Thank you to the jury. Thank you, everyone.”
The young man’s slightly awkward and introverted voice echoed through the venue, drawing the entire audience into a hush.
Xuan Yang said a lot. He had prepared an acceptance speech, but the moment he got on stage, he forgot everything. So his words came out a little disorganized. But he was speaking with genuine emotion—talking about the difficulties they had faced during filming, and about the dreams he had when he was young.
And just before he stepped down, he seemed to remember something and added, “…And a special thank you to my lead actor, Xie Xizhao.”
Xie Xizhao lifted his gaze and met his from across the room.
In that moment, it felt as if they had returned to that moonlit night.
Both of them were dirty and exhausted, and Xie Xizhao had said to Xuan Yang, “I hope the world sees your talent.”
Xie Xizhao thought, maybe the moon had really heard their wish.
—
Xuan Yang’s words sent the live chat into a frenzy. The drama fans and Xie Xizhao fans, who had just been wiping away tears, nearly choked on them and gave up trying to stay composed.
[I swear this man… alright, fine.]
[How would this world even function without Xie Xizhao? LOL. Also reminded of how the drama crew turned every interview into a Xie Xizhao praise session.]
[Why isn’t anyone spamming it? I’ll start—GeSao 99! This time it’s really happening!]
Xuan Yang floated back to his seat as if in a daze. Sitting down beside Xie Xizhao, he heard the latter lower his voice and say, “Congratulations, Director.”
Xuan Yang chuckled, a little giddy.
Xie Xizhao smiled briefly before turning his attention back to the stage.
After the Best Director award, several more awards were presented. Soon, it was time for Best Supporting Actor.
And almost instantly, the atmosphere in the livestream chat turned tense.
—
Although most people agreed that Xuan Yang’s win was well-deserved, the moment his name was announced, many of Xie Xizhao’s fans suddenly realized something—
That meant Best Actor might already be out of reach.
It was rare for a single drama to win multiple major awards unless it was a true blockbuster. This was a common expectation, but Tao Yan’s Summer was an unusual case.
First, it was a web drama. Second, it was a low-budget, niche production. And on top of that, the director was a complete newcomer.
Lastly, this was Stellar.
For the past half-month, Tao Yan’s Summer had remained a hot topic. Emotionally, the drama’s fans naturally hoped the production could take home as many awards as possible. But rationally, they knew it would be difficult.
Disappointment was inevitable. Many fans had already braced themselves, offering each other words of encouragement in their online fan forum.
[It’s okay, we still have Jing Yin!]
[But there’s a veteran actor in the Best Supporting category this year… and his role was really amazing too. Ahhh, I’m so nervous.]
[Jing Yin, Jing Yin, you have to win! Please!]
—But then.
No.
When the nominees for Best Supporting Actor were announced, there was a stir both at the venue and in the livestream chat. But in the end, the name called was not Xie Xizhao’s.
The applause in the hall was as enthusiastic as ever. The senior actor who won stepped up to give his acceptance speech, while Xie Xizhao’s fans flooded the livestream chat with reminders to respect their seniors, barely managing to keep things under control. But in their fan forum, chaos had already erupted.
[Ahhhhh my Jing Yin T^T]
[I mean, I get it, but still—ahhhhhh!]
[Someone pick up the pieces, I’m shattered… My precious Zhaozhao, you looked especially beautiful today. Mommy loves you, QAQ.]
The results were final. There would be no miracles.
The award he had the highest chance of winning had gone to someone else. And it was only at this moment that all his fans fully realized—no matter how much they had prepared for disappointment, deep down, they had still been hoping.
Hoping that hard work would be rewarded.
Hoping that their idol, who had poured his heart and soul into his role, would get what he deserved.
Hoping…
For a miracle.
People tried to comfort one another, but no one dared to offer false hope anymore—no one said things like “Best Actor is still left.” The fan forum was drowning in tears. Meanwhile, whether intentional or not, the camera lingered on Xie Xizhao for an unusually long time.
—
He remained composed, poised, beautiful. His presence was especially striking that night—every frame of him could be a wallpaper, every short clip of his expressions spread wildly across the internet.
He was the loser in everyone’s eyes, though it was a loss that carried its own dignity. He clapped earnestly for his opponent, and everyone could see the sincerity in his gaze.
And in that moment, even his most dedicated anti-fans felt an unexpected twinge of sympathy for that strikingly beautiful and sincere face.
The awards ceremony continued, but “Xie Xizhao” had already shot up the trending topics. In the backseat of a car, Fang Qingqing wiped away tears while furiously issuing instructions to the PR team on her phone. Her directive was clear: “If we have to lose, then we’re going to lose in the most stunning way possible! Flood the trending page with pictures! Make sure he looks flawless!”
—And right at that moment, the announcement for Best Actor began.
No buildup. No preamble.
The internet was still mourning Xie Xizhao’s missed award, cyber-grieving his loss in real time. Because of the broadcast delay, the livestream chat had yet to catch up.
But inside the venue, silence had fallen. Everyone heard the name following the words Best Actor.
Slowly, stiffly, they turned their heads.
In the middle rows of the audience, a tall, slender young man, graceful as a bamboo reed, had already risen to his feet.
On the giant screen, clips from the nominees’ performances began to play.
Under a sycamore tree, a delicate-featured boy sat beside an orange-and-white cat.
The decision had been made.
This year’s Stellar Best Actor award went to—
Tao Yan – Xie Xizhao.
Hmm, nice.