Chapter 139: Never Try to Doubt Xie Xizhao
He was the youngest Best Actor in the history of Stellar Awards and the most high-profile genius in the entertainment industry.
One year, two dramas. Double nominations, Best Actor.
The ultimate outcome of all these titles was this:
When Xie Xizhao walked out of the venue, he practically had to weave through the cracks between the media to pick someone up.
Stellar’s online livestream had already crashed within half a minute of the host announcing Xie Xizhao’s name. The speed of server repairs and expansions couldn’t keep up with the explosion of public interest. It still wasn’t fixed. Offline, Xie Xizhao was surrounded by a team of bodyguards that Qi Yin had hired at a high price, while a circle of reporters with their cameras aimed at him pressed in from all sides. Even the fans who had rushed over were squeezed outside the security perimeter.
The reporters looked even more excited than Xie Xizhao himself. If not for the bodyguards blocking them, they would have shoved their cameras straight into his face—
One of them almost did.
As he shouted, “Xie Xizhao, what do you have to say about becoming the youngest Best Actor in Stellar’s history? Did you know about the result in advance?” he fought against all odds to push through the crowd. In the chaos, his camera slipped from his hands and arced through the air, about to crash onto the red carpet.
In the next moment, a fair, slender hand caught it midair just in time and handed it back to him.
“Be careful,” Xie Xizhao said.
For a brief instant, silence fell over the entire crowd.
Night had already descended. Yet the grand and extravagant venue remained illuminated, dazzling as if it were still broad daylight.
The young man in a black suit stood tall and elegant, his features exquisite. His brows and eyes still carried the same familiar warmth and composure everyone knew.
In that moment, the same thought surfaced in everyone’s mind—
Was he really human…?
—Or was he a god who had accidentally descended to the mortal world?
In that brief moment of stunned silence, Xie Xizhao was swiftly ushered into the car by his bodyguards and left the venue.
With that, the Stellar Awards Ceremony officially came to an end. But for Xie Xizhao, this was only the beginning of his explosive rise in popularity.
—
Almost exactly one minute after the news of Xie Xizhao’s win hit the internet, Weibo crashed.
And it crashed completely—just a blank screen. Ask why? Server error. Ask again? Endless lag and loading screens.
Fang Qingqing suspected that even if rumors about Xie Xizhao’s love life or some shocking news about him renouncing the world had ever surfaced, the internet reaction wouldn’t have been as wild as this.
At this moment, she finally understood just how eerily prophetic Xie Xizhao’s odd question from before had been.
But she—and everyone at Xie Xizhao’s studio—had no time to joke about it now.
From the moment they learned of his win, Fang Qingqing immediately contacted the PR department. Her tears from the initial excitement hadn’t even dried when she was forced to grab tissues with one hand while making calls with the other. Because by then, Xie Xizhao’s name had already shot to the top of the trending list, glowing in deep red, marked with “explosive.”
That was the last call she made voluntarily.
Because as soon as she hung up, her phone was bombarded with an endless stream of incoming calls, all from media outlets scrambling to schedule interviews.
Meanwhile, Xie Xizhao’s assistants were busy handling different departments. One second, they were responding to congratulatory messages from industry insiders, and the next, brand representatives were rushing in with contract renewal offers. Everyone wished they had eight hands.
Of course, the busiest department of all was still PR.
During the ten or so minutes that Weibo was down, they immediately contacted a professional PR firm. Dozens of people worked together to draft contingency plans.
Yet, the moment Weibo came back online, they were still utterly dumbfounded.
Out of the top ten trending searches, six were about the Stellar Awards Ceremony. Five of those were directly related to Xie Xizhao.
And the number one trending topic? A simple yet powerful, straight-to-the-heart exclamation: “F*ck!”
Below it, hundreds of thousands of comments had already flooded in.
And that was just the first popular post under the first trending topic.
The PR department collectively lost their minds.
By the time Xie Xizhao arrived at the studio, the usually most socially anxious PR head had been staring at the comments for so long that his eyes were glazed over. He was slumped in his chair, taking a brief moment of rest.
Xie Xizhao stood in front of him, silent for a moment, then held up two fingers.
“How many is this?”
The PR head weakly replied, “Baby, don’t treat me like an idiot. That’s a peace sign.”
Xie Xizhao chuckled.
Still smiling, he said, “Alright, that’s enough for now. There’s no point in staring at it. And Sister Qing, hold off on contacting the brands for now. Everyone, just take a break.”
With that one sentence, he rescued the entire studio, which had been spinning like a top. For the first time in this overwhelming chaos, they finally found a moment of relief.
Xie Xizhao ordered a cake and then got milk tea and coffee for everyone. The whole team slumped in their chairs, waiting for the delivery with zero regard for appearances, taking a rare moment to recharge.
By then, it was already nearing midnight.
—
Despite the chaos, everyone knew that, at least for now, PR wasn’t going to make much of a difference.
This wasn’t an ordinary trending moment.
It wasn’t about Xie Xizhao landing another major director’s film, nor was it about an eye-catching magazine photoshoot.
And it certainly wasn’t some scandal they needed to fight tooth and nail to suppress.
First of all, winning an award was a joyous occasion. Secondly, it was the Stellar Awards—a household name, a true pinnacle of achievement in the film and television industry.
For Xie Xizhao to win Best Actor at Stellar tonight meant that, at least in the realm of television dramas, a significant number of authoritative experts believed he had already reached the peak. And this fact was now being broadcasted to everyone through live streams and media reports.
Unbelievable? Definitely.
His age, experience, and acting career—all of them shattered the records set by previous Best Actors in Stellar’s history.
But was it real?
Undeniably.
The unexpected and the undeniable, tied together with the title of Best Actor at Stellar—it was enough to trigger a supernova in the entertainment industry.
That was the power of a top-tier award.
At the end of the day, what Xie Xizhao had just won was the kind of honor that countless actors chased after their whole lives—one that many might never attain.
No actor or agency could possibly control the narrative under this kind of overwhelming attention.
Xie Xizhao was now the boss of his own studio, and his word carried weight. By this point, everyone had calmed down from their initial anxiety and began to celebrate, hugging him and offering their congratulations. Soon after, they returned to their work—eating their late-night snacks while tackling the ongoing chaos.
Only Fang Qingqing watched him carefully, her voice soft.
“You knew all along, didn’t you, Xizhao?”
Xie Xizhao let out a quiet “Mm.”
“I guessed.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I wasn’t completely sure. But I had a feeling that if they couldn’t decide, they’d lean towards this type of film and protagonist.”
That was why he had a strong hunch that Tao Yan’s Summer would win.
If the judges didn’t have any particular bias against him, then since they had already given him a nomination, Best Actor wasn’t far-fetched.
Of course, there were things Xie Xizhao hadn’t anticipated.
For example, the public reaction at this moment—was far, far better than he had expected.
—
Xie Xizhao had always been clear about his position.
In his journey as an actor, he wasn’t professionally trained. He had benefited from the traffic dividend, which also meant he had to bear the negative consequences that came with it.
For example, compared to the average actor, he had a stronger fanbase—but it was also larger, more diverse, and more complicated. His popularity among the general public was immense, but not entirely positive. And, of course—prejudice.
There wasn’t much to say about the fanbase. No matter how flawless an idol was, once the fan count grew, chaos was inevitable. Compared to others, Xie Xizhao’s fans, aside from being intensely career-focused, were relatively well-balanced.
As for public perception—perhaps Tao Yan’s Summer had served as a wake-up call for his fanbase. Xie Xizhao had expected to see some concerns about him being “unworthy of the title” or “undeserving of the honor” leading to backlash, but after looking around, he found almost nothing. Instead, fans were silently spreading promotions across trending discussions, occasionally retreating to their forums to stare in disbelief:
[Guys… am I dreaming?]
That made Xie Xizhao chuckle.
Beyond that, there were the comments from the general public.
There was no doubt that Xie Xizhao’s fame was at a top-tier, undisputed level within the domestic entertainment industry. However, his public reputation still lagged behind some classically trained, non-traffic actors.
It wasn’t because he was unprofessional. It wasn’t because of scandals.
It was simply because the general public still carried deep-rooted stereotypes about “traffic idols.”
So when nothing major was happening, he was seen as a top-tier idol with a massive fanbase and a decent reputation. But the moment he received an honor that surpassed his “idol” identity, and his influence expanded beyond his usual circles, that same “idol” label would begin working against him again.
At the end of the day, it all came down to one reason—
Xie Xizhao was walking a path that no one had ever walked before.
A dedicated fanbase and positive national recognition—two things that were usually difficult for a celebrity to achieve at the same time—had somehow converged on Xie Xizhao. This created a jarring contrast in the eyes of outsiders who didn’t understand the full picture.
His transition had been a difficult journey. Even when he received the nomination and the initial response was positive, he had still braced himself for the worst possible outcome.
But at this moment, as he scrolled through the trending discussions, he finally allowed himself to believe—
That fractured image of him was now a thing of the past.
Public comments were largely split into two categories, the first being from professional film critics and reviewers.
With his performances as Jing Yin and Tao Yan, Xie Xizhao had practically become the darling of film critics. The moment he won the award, several reviewers fought through Weibo’s server crash just to post:
[Congratulations, Xizhao! The youngest Best Actor in Stellar history—his future is limitless. P.S.: You can express your surprise under my post, but I don’t want to see any ‘Why him?’ nonsense. He absolutely deserved this based on acting alone.]
[I knew he’d win but didn’t dare to say it out loud, haha. Stellar delivers once again! Looking forward to his next project!]
[Damn, look at the trending heat—definitely top-tier status. Fans, you guys must be losing your minds, lol. If you had just paid more attention to my previous ‘Purple Star’ prediction, you wouldn’t be this shocked… What does ‘Purple Star’ mean? It’s not about climbing up step by step in a predictable way—it’s about defying expectations. Teacher Xie, keep pushing forward! [cheers emoji]]
When even critics who prided themselves on neutrality were saying this, there was no need to mention the drama fans, who purely watched for entertainment.
Under the Weibo post for Tao Yan’s Summer, the comments were filled with fans checking in and celebrating. Over at Seeking Immortality, however, people were more hesitant to post, mindful of the male lead controversy. But it didn’t take long before Dou Fei took the initiative to publicly congratulate Xie Xizhao. Xie Xizhao responded as well.
Their interaction was open and sincere, which not only reassured the drama fans who had been trying to stay neutral but also boosted their favorability toward both actors.
Of course, there were also negative voices.
It was likely that a rival company had sent out paid trolls, directly targeting Xie Xizhao. They accused him of winning solely because of his popularity and traffic value, claiming that Stellar had ruined its own reputation by giving him the award.
However, these criticisms were soon drowned out by the flood of congratulations and astonishment.
At last, everyone could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
Was he happy?
To be honest, Xie Xizhao was happy.
No one disliked receiving recognition and praise—not even someone whose emotions weren’t easily swayed by external influences.
That night was destined to be sleepless for his studio. But since Xie Xizhao had an early schedule the next day, he headed home to rest after rewarding his team for their hard work.
His parents were waiting for him. In the living room, a glass display case had been temporarily set up to hold his trophy.
That night, for once, Xie Xizhao slept without dreams.
By the next day, he had already begun his next filming project.
And for a long time after that, his popularity remained at an astonishing peak.
The entertainment industry had always been a brutally realistic world.
Before Xie Xizhao won the award, even though he had already gained many drama fans who loved him for his acting, it wasn’t until this very moment that he seemed to have truly completed his transition—
No longer just an idol, but a real actor.
His starting point as an actor was the finishing line for countless others.
It sounded glamorous, yet at the same time, it carried a harsh and almost unbelievable weight. Even the members of his own studio couldn’t help but sigh,
“So this is what it means to be a Purple Star… He really doesn’t follow the usual path.”
Xie Xizhao chuckled when he heard that and asked, “Are you free?”
The other person immediately became alert. “Baby, what are you trying to do?”
Xie Xizhao looked completely innocent. “I don’t have any work for you.”
He paused for a moment, then added, “But I have a feeling someone is about to give you some work.”
“…?”
Xie Xizhao’s words carried a deeper meaning. And everyone who had ever worked with him knew one thing—
Never try to doubt Xie Xizhao. If he said something, it was bound to be true.
Three days later, under the 24-hour watchful eye of the PR department, they stumbled upon a trending post in the public forum:
[Enough already. You guys have been spamming about a certain Xie for half a month now. Sure, his acting is decent, but what about all the veteran actors in the industry? You keep calling him a Purple Star, but I think the real ‘Purple Star’ is just the entertainment industry’s biggest hype machine. He only got Best Actor by riding on the success of a legendary script—there’s no real value in that. This is getting ridiculous.]
This post had been purchased as a top trending topic. Within minutes, it spread rapidly.
In just a few dozen minutes, its likes, shares, and comments had already surged past a thousand.
