Chapter 19: Premiere#
The premiere was held at the largest cinema in the city, grandly staged. All available artists from the company attended, and the massive star presence thrilled the media on site. When Mu Xiao walked through arm in arm with Su Jue, it caused a frenzy of camera flashes.
It was a grand feast of lights and media, pleasing both hosts and guests.
By the time they could finally sit down to watch the film, Lu Yan felt his face, already accustomed to smiling, was a bit stiff, let alone his legs that had been standing almost all day. The entertainment industry truly required physical stamina.
He found his assigned seat and sat down. The seat next to him was already occupied—someone whose perfect, delicate profile stood out strikingly in the dimly lit theater.
Lu Yan wasn’t too surprised. Although he hadn’t seen him on the red carpet earlier, ever since that night when the other man had said “See you later,” he wouldn’t be too shocked no matter when he appeared before him.
Too tired to force a professional smile, Lu Yan said flatly, “I didn’t see Chairman Su outside earlier.”
Su Mo still looked straight ahead, as if not responding directly to him, his tone equally calm, “I don’t care for that kind of hustle and bustle, so I came straight in.”
Lu Yan didn’t bother asking why the other man had come, and Su Mo didn’t explain why he was sitting there. Both understood perfectly and naturally. Lu Yan didn’t feel even a hint of resentment; instead, it seemed only logical.
Soon the seats around them filled up, and neither spoke again until the film started.
During the movie, Lu Yan watched with full concentration—it was his first time seeing the finished product.
Although he was familiar with nearly every scene shot over the three-plus months on set, when they were selectively edited and paired with different sound effects and music, the result felt entirely new.
Perhaps because Lu Yan’s rebirth had fluttered the butterfly’s wings, this film featuring Lu Yan had slight differences from the one he had seen in his previous life. He clearly felt that, though not many extra shots had been added, his character’s role in the plot carried more weight than in his past life’s version. He believed this film could bring him far more than Xu Yongzhou had gained in his previous life. Even after the movie ended, Lu Yan remained excited and exhilarated, though he was always good at hiding his emotions, so it didn’t show on his face.
As the screening ended, the crowd slowly dispersed, the once-packed theater gradually emptying. Only when only a few people remained did Su Mo stir and stand up. Lu Yan followed suit.
The theater lights came on. For the first time that evening, Su Mo turned his gaze to Lu Yan, a hint of awe and reflection in his eyes. “So watching a movie in the cinema really is different from watching at home.”
Lu Yan was a bit surprised. “Is this Chairman Su’s first time in a movie theater?”
“Over a decade ago, I went once, but the theaters back then were simpler, not as upscale as this.”
Lu Yan smiled. “I doubt anyone would believe that the big boss of Star Entertainment hasn’t set foot in a cinema in over ten years.”
Su Mo smiled too. “A doctor can’t treat himself. Who says the head of a film company has to watch movies often?”
After a pause, Su Mo said seriously, “The film was excellent, and Mr. Lu’s performance was even more outstanding.”
Lu Yan gave a faint smile, offering a not-so-sincere modesty: “You flatter me.”
When Su Jue and Li Ran came looking for them, the two stopped talking. Su Mo nodded slightly at Lu Yan, quietly said, “See you,” and turned away, as if he had truly only come to watch a movie that night. Yet he left behind in Lu Yan’s heart a faint ripple he hadn’t even realized.
Li Ran was especially excited to see Su Mo. He grabbed his hair, which no matter how the stylist worked it always looked a bit messy, and said, “Brother Su, you finally came to my premiere! I’m so happy!”
Su Jue couldn’t help but snort, glancing at Lu Yan, who hadn’t left yet, and said meaningfully, “The truth is harsh—I won’t burst your bubble.”
The two had been teasing each other since childhood, so Li Ran assumed he was just spouting nonsense and ignored him.
Su Mo smiled warmly. “The film was great. I really liked it.”
Li Ran’s grin widened, nearly dancing with joy. He asked hopefully, “There’s a celebration banquet later. Brother Su, want to come along?”
Su Mo hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “I’ll pass. You all have fun.”
Su Jue said, “Brother, let me drive you back.”
“No need,” Su Mo stopped him. “You go enjoy yourself. I drove here myself.”
At the celebration banquet, Lu Yan felt a slight disappointment that Su Mo hadn’t come. Realizing this, he was inwardly startled and amused. Crazy. Habit really is a frightening thing.
Blade’s Edge had a strong opening day at the box office—preliminary figures showed 38 million yuan, a fairly impressive number. As Lu Yan knew, this result was even better than in his previous life; he remembered Blade’s Edge debuted with 35 million yuan. He didn’t mind attributing that extra three million modestly to his own participation.
The box office trend continued well. The film itself was excellent, coupled with strong promotion and no equally competitive films in the same period. Though it premiered on a Wednesday, it still topped the weekly chart and continued to dominate for several weeks. By the time it officially ended its run, total box office reached nearly 800 million yuan, almost 100 million more than the previous life’s 700-plus million. Hearing this result, Lu Yan felt quite satisfied. He knew this success came not only from slight changes in the film but also from a more lavish promotional campaign than before.
Although 800 million wasn’t an unattainable number, considering domestic viewing trends, release timing, and the film’s genre, it was quite respectable. Moreover, with DVD sales and overseas rights, the investors were sure to reap substantial profits.
Following that, Golden Marriage also hit theaters.
Light comedies were always popular during the holiday season. With the combination of two handsome men and a beautiful woman, the cliché plot never tired audiences, especially with the endless stream of fresh gags. Every screening had the theater filled with laughter—perfect for the New Year. Fans even brought friends and family for multiple viewings, so box office was never a worry.
But with many competing films in the same period and rampant pirated copies—especially affecting films not reliant on sound and visuals—domestic box office eventually settled at 750 million yuan. Considering costs, its profit margin was even better than Blade’s Edge.
After the films were released, though Lu Yan no longer needed to promote, his schedule didn’t become free; it got busier instead. One engagement after another: magazine interviews, cover shoots, variety shows, commercial performances… He even spent the Spring Festival working. But for Lu Yan, it wasn’t bad—at least he didn’t have to spend it alone watching others’ family reunions, as in previous years.
During this time, Qin Feng secured a few advertisements for Lu Yan, and several endorsement deals were under negotiation. Because they required careful consideration, no decisions had been made yet. For a newcomer who hadn’t even been in the industry a year, these achievements were remarkable.
On the morning of the fifth day of the New Year, Lu Yan drove to the company alone. Before the holiday, he had given Song Hui time off, and these past few days a temporary assistant had handled his schedule. There was no chemistry, and the young man was careless, often forgetting things. Lu Yan had to remind him what to do frequently. If it weren’t for needing someone to watch his bag or fetch water during work, Lu Yan would rather go alone. So for trips like home to office, he did it himself.
Song Hui had only been gone a few days, yet the once-coordinated rhythm was already thrown off. Lu Yan frowned. He likely needed to find two more competent assistants—not requiring them to be as thorough as Song Hui, just able to handle their duties. Perhaps due to his personality, or maybe because of the betrayal in his past life, Lu Yan inherently didn’t trust people easily and was reluctant to rely too much on anyone. Song Hui was capable, but he couldn’t always be by Lu Yan’s side. The feeling of chaos when one person was missing was truly unpleasant.
He arrived at the company smoothly. Because of the holiday, the usually bustling building felt deserted, with only a few security guards patrolling the lobby. When they saw Lu Yan enter, they smiled and greeted him as “Brother Lu,” pressing the elevator button for him. Lu Yan smiled and nodded in thanks. Now, as Qin Feng had said, Lu Yan’s face was his pass—no need for an employee ID. Even new staff all recognized him.
He went straight to Qin Feng’s office on the fifteenth floor. The other man was already waiting for him. Lu Yan had his own workspace at Star Entertainment too, but he rarely used it. Most of his time there was spent in Qin Feng’s office discussing work arrangements.
As soon as Lu Yan entered, Qin Feng put down the documents he was reading and got straight to the point. “Lu Yan, I called you here today to discuss endorsements.”
Lu Yan nodded. He appreciated this work style—efficient, no false pleasantries. “Feng Ge, what are your thoughts?”
Qin Feng pointed to the papers he’d been looking at. “Several companies have approached us proactively. Mostly pharmaceuticals and health supplements, plus one energy drink. My opinion is that we shouldn’t take any of these.”
Lu Yan didn’t object. Qin Feng continued, “Advertisements might be okay, but endorsements aren’t suitable—especially pharmaceuticals and supplements—they easily lead to legal trouble. You’re still building popularity, and it’s best to avoid negative news.”
Lu Yan agreed. “Feng Ge’s considerations are spot on. That’s what I think too.”