Chapter 29#

Chapter 29: Opportunity#

The previous work had come to an end, and more job opportunities awaited him.

Lu Yan took several scripts from Qin Feng and began to carefully select one.

At this point, Lu Yan hadn’t yet become a huge star, but his reputation was already considerable, giving him plenty of room to choose his scripts. For instance, the scripts in his hands had already been filtered by Qin Feng, ensuring that both the story and the cast were decent enough.

When Lu Yan reached the last script, his eyes lit up.

It was a script titled The Sniper. The story was straightforward: it followed a sniper stranded in the jungle who had to survive and fight back against enemy ambushes, ultimately rescuing the female lead and reuniting with his unit. Since the protagonist fought alone for most of the story, his lines were minimal, which meant a heavy reliance on physical acting and facial expressions—actually more demanding in terms of performance. The jungle setting was a highlight, with extensive depictions of its dangers and survival techniques. As for romance, the male and female leads only met at the end during a heroic rescue, leaving the female lead with little screen time and almost no romantic development. Instead, the focus was on the thrilling cat-and-mouse game between the male lead and the enemy leader in the jungle.

Movies of this genre didn’t have a large market domestically. On one hand, there was a lack of directors who could handle it; on the other, it clashed with domestic audiences’ aesthetic preferences. But if done well, such a film could be gripping and easily attract attention at international film festivals.

In fact, this movie did achieve great acclaim at foreign film festivals.

Lu Yan remembered clearly that when it first premiered domestically, its performance was dismal—it was pulled from theaters in less than a week. Yet the same film went on to win Best Picture as a dark horse at the Cannes Film Festival. When the news reached home, it sparked a storm online. Under pressure from theaters nationwide, it was re-released and this time achieved excellent box office results. This unprecedented twist had stuck in Lu Yan’s memory. He recalled that he even watched it twice in theaters.

Lu Yan remembered the director, Zhou Yingcai, a young up-and-comer who had been unknown before this film catapulted him to fame both domestically and internationally, placing him among the top directors in the country. Lu Yan had kept an eye on Zhou’s later work but found none as stunning.

The male lead was Song Lian, an actor hovering between second and third tier, who won Best Actor at Cannes for this film, launching his career into smooth sailing by sheer luck.

Lu Yan never imagined he might have a chance to be part of this legendary movie. But for whatever reason, the plot had changed—perhaps Lu Yan’s reincarnation had indeed fluttered the butterfly’s wings. Now that the opportunity was before him, he wasn’t about to let it slip.

Without hesitation, Lu Yan pulled out the script and said to Qin Feng, “Brother Feng, I want to take this one.”

Qin Feng took the script and frowned. “This one? The story is fresh, but the director has no reputation; who knows if he can pull it off? Plus, the domestic market doesn’t seem to favor this genre. Maybe you should reconsider. I think Top Secret is also great—directed by Dai Zeng, with Chu Yun as the female lead, she’s a Best Actress, and there are rumors of several big names making cameos. Isn’t that more suitable for you right now?”

Lu Yan naturally trusted Qin Feng’s judgment, and Top Secret’s box office results later confirmed it. But with the cheat tool of reincarnation in hand, Lu Yan knew that compared to the lure of a Cannes Best Actor award, even the highest box office wasn’t enough. So it wasn’t a choice at all.

His difficulty lay in how to persuade Qin Feng, since he could never reveal the truth about his reincarnation. From the current perspective, Qin Feng’s choice seemed more rational.

After a moment, Lu Yan said, “Brother Feng, I think this movie is unique. If I miss it, I might never get another chance. Anyway, the shooting schedule shouldn’t be too long. Let me give it a try.”

Qin Feng was puzzled by Lu Yan’s insistence. Usually, their opinions aligned, and on rare disagreements, Lu Yan would defer to him. This time was different.

But Lu Yan had a point. Besides, the young man’s boldness wasn’t a bad thing. Even if the film underperformed, the impact would be minimal. Qin Feng nodded. “Alright, we’ll take this one. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Lu Yan breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He had been wondering how to argue without revealing anything if Qin Feng disagreed. He hadn’t expected Qin Feng to agree so readily.

The other party probably hadn’t expected Lu Yan to accept the film either. When they first approached him, they thought Lu Yan’s image and qualifications were perfect, but since it was a low-budget project with no big names, they assumed he might not be interested. To their surprise, he agreed.

When Qin Feng confirmed with them, the excitement in their voice was palpable as they repeatedly thanked him. Qin Feng joked about it when he relayed the news. Lu Yan smiled without saying much, thinking to himself that he should be the one thanking them.

But the film was still in pre-production, with roles not yet cast, so there was no rush to join the set. Meanwhile, Lu Yan’s first EP was about to be released, and the promotional period would seamlessly lead into the filming schedule.

After the post-production of the three songs was complete, Lu Yan listened to them with Bai Xi and Lin Mu. The results were excellent—Lu Yan’s voice blended perfectly with the music, making it incredibly pleasant.

Bai Xi and Lin Mu were both satisfied. Bai Xi felt Lu Yan had perfectly conveyed the emotions in his lyrics, while Lin Mu believed Lu Yan had executed his music well.

Lu Yan himself was pleased. Even against such brilliant lyrics and composition, he felt his voice hadn’t lagged behind.

Yet, hearing the polished final product, Lu Yan unexpectedly recalled the imperfect yet captivating singing he’d heard in Su Mo’s car that day. He closed his eyes, and the image of Su Mo’s tender side profile appeared in his mind, as if he could still sense the subtle flutter of his eyelashes.

No matter the eventual outcome, this person had indeed begun to carve a place in Lu Yan’s heart. He thought to himself.

Qin Feng quickly devised a promotional plan with the company.

First, they released previews of the three songs online, ramping up promotion across major platforms. The fans needed little encouragement, but they aimed to attract more casual listeners. After the official release, they planned signing concerts in several major cities.

The online preview was a huge success—the first day’s click rate broke ten million. Bai Xi and Lin Mu’s combined appeal was indeed unmatched. Once listeners heard the songs, they were immediately captivated by Lu Yan’s voice. Many fans exclaimed that their idol could sing so beautifully. Lu Yan posted the preview link on his Weibo, and it became the most reposted item of the day.

Three signing concerts were scheduled—in S City, G City, and C City—one day apart. The pace was tight, but time was of the essence; early enthusiasm from fans was always the strongest.

The concerts were a resounding success. The weather was growing warmer, but the fans’ passion didn’t wane. Each venue was packed. By the end of the signings, Lu Yan’s hand was nearly numb.

But the results were gratifying. Lu Yan had proven his talent beyond acting, bringing them one step closer to their goal of becoming superstars.

After the EP’s release, Lu Yan entered a whirlwind of promotional appearances, spending less time at the company and losing track of certain people. When he accidentally stumbled upon something, it wasn’t that he was particularly observant—the other party hadn’t bothered to hide it.

After all, President Su’s choice of companions changed frequently, though not excessively. It wasn’t surprising to those who knew his bisexual tendencies. What made Lu Yan feel a sense of crisis was the person beside Su Jue: Xu Yongzhou.

Standing at a corner in the company’s underground parking lot, Lu Yan quietly watched Xu Yongzhou get into Su Jue’s car. Their intimate demeanor left no doubt about their relationship.

So they had ended up together after all. Having prior knowledge, Lu Yan wasn’t particularly shocked to see them together, but he was a little disappointed that the butterfly effect of his reincarnation hadn’t affected them.

Another issue on Lu Yan’s mind: if Xu Yongzhou used his connection with Su Jue to scheme against him, would he still succeed?

As Lu Yan pondered, a slender figure approached from behind. “You don’t look so good.”

Lu Yan turned around to see Mu Xiao standing quietly. She had lost a lot of weight since they last met.

Seeing Lu Yan’s silence, Mu Xiao gave a faint smile—still the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. She tilted her chin toward the direction Su Jue’s car had gone. “You seem surprised.”

Lu Yan couldn’t gauge Mu Xiao’s stance, so he stayed silent.

As expected, her feigned calm wavered. She let out a soft sigh. “Want to grab a drink?”

Lu Yan finally spoke, his tone indifferent. “Is that necessary?” Their relationship had never been close, and although Lu Yan didn’t dwell on her past unfriendliness, he saw no reason to maintain polite pretense behind her back.

Mu Xiao laughed self-deprecatingly. “Consider it consolation for a lovelorn woman.”

Lu Yan thought for a moment. He had some questions for Mu Xiao, so he nodded in agreement.