Chapter 37#

Two Best Awards

The two most influential film awards in China are the Golden Ox Award and the Hundred Herbs Award. The Golden Ox Award is a jury prize, while the Hundred Herbs Award is a public prize. Since these two awards were originally held in alternate years, they were later combined into one, simply referred to as the Golden Ox Hundred Herbs Film Festival. This year’s award is the Hundred Herbs Award.

Due to the unique nature of its selection process, the Hundred Herbs Award is mostly presented in October, while various other film festivals begin as early as March.

Previously, Qin Feng suggested to Lu Yan that he still didn’t carry enough weight; even attending a few more film festivals would do him little good beyond being a mere spectator, so he might as well skip them.

But the Hundred Herbs Award was different. Blade Edge had already been nominated for Best Picture, and Lu Yan was also among the nominees for Best Supporting Actor. In his previous life, Xu Yongzhou had been nominated for Best Supporting Actor with this same film but ultimately lost. Lu Yan didn’t know if he could change that outcome this time.

Since he was still filming, Lu Yan didn’t attend any other events of the film festival and only showed up for the most important awards ceremony.

The red carpet was always one of the highlights of any major ceremony, and the red carpet at a film festival awards ceremony was especially star-studded. Lu Yan was now a regular on the red carpet, knowing well how to walk it with understated ease to attract even more attention.

At film festivals, the red carpet was usually walked by cast and crew. Mu Xiao, the female lead, chose not to walk with the male lead but instead linked arms with director Li Ran and walked ahead. Mu Xiao, wearing a low-cut gown, smiled sweetly and gently. Li Ran, who had changed his usual dressing habits and wore formal attire, still appeared expressionless—clearly not fond of such occasions.

Lu Yan and Gu Yang walked a few steps behind them. As soon as the two handsome men appeared, they were met with screams, especially Lu Yan, whose fans almost shouted themselves hoarse.

The two hadn’t seen each other for a long time, only keeping in touch occasionally, but their friendship hadn’t been affected. Gu Yang leaned in and teased, “In just a short year, Lu Yan, your popularity is really high now.”

At some point, Gu Yang had stopped calling him “Little Lu” and started using his full name.

Lu Yan smiled and replied quietly, “Thanks to everyone’s support.”

As for Yan Shaohui, for some reason, he didn’t attend this awards ceremony.

After signing their names on the signature wall, several media outlets gathered around. The group cooperated, posing for a few photos.

Reporters quickly thrust microphones forward, asking the usual questions: How did they feel about being nominated? Were they confident about winning?

Li Ran simply said “I’m confident” and dismissed all the questions.

Gu Yang shrugged and smiled, “This time, the great Han Yuan is also nominated, so I think I don’t stand much chance. I’m just here as a spectator today.”

Lu Yan’s reply was as circumspect as ever: “I think every nominated actor hopes to win, but in the end, it’s up to the audience’s opinion.”

The next crew soon walked the red carpet, and the media turned their attention to them. Before the results were out, every nominee had a chance to win, so no one could be overlooked. When the final results came, they would be prepared.

The red carpet started around 5 PM, and the ceremony officially began at 7:30 PM.

The hosts for this awards ceremony were Shu Hang and Dong Lan. Shu Hang was a big name in variety shows, while Dong Lan was a former famous host from CCTV—both carried significant weight.

No matter how influential the hosts were, they were just going through the motions. The award presenters were what the audience eagerly anticipated.

The first award was for Best Music. The presenters were veteran comedy actor Zhu Hong and director Jiang Chengyu. As soon as they stepped on stage, they cracked jokes and bantered, filling the venue with laughter and easing the tense atmosphere.

Lu Yan couldn’t help but laugh, his mood relaxing as a result.

After the two presenters played the clips of the five nominated films on the big screen, they started teasing the final answer. The Hundred Herbs Award’s selection was unique: as a public award, the audience’s opinion was the final criterion. The nomination process was lengthy, and the final winner was decided by a strictly selected panel of 101 audience members present, so it took a bit longer.

Soon, the presenters received the final result.

Just as the answer was about to be revealed, Lu Yan felt a sudden tug at his heart. He turned his head and saw that the second seat near the aisle in his row, which had been empty before, was now occupied by someone. As if sensing Lu Yan’s gaze, that person also turned around. Seeing Lu Yan, he gave a slight nod of greeting.

The venue was brightly lit, but that person’s pitch-black eyes seemed even brighter than the lights. Lu Yan’s heart skipped a beat.

In that moment of distraction, he missed the announcement. Applause erupted around him. Lu Yan saw Li Ran stand up and walk to the stage, realizing the winning film was Blade Edge.

Li Ran’s speech was brief. He was used to winning awards, and Best Music was just a minor prize.

Next came Best Art Direction and Best Cinematography, which went to Tianshan and Blade Edge, respectively.

Then came the announcement of Best Supporting Actress and Best Supporting Actor.

Best Supporting Actress was awarded first, going to actress Fang Chen for her role in You Said You Love Me.

Coincidentally, the presenter for Best Supporting Actor was Gu Yang. As soon as he stepped on stage, he said directly, “I really don’t want to be the presenter for this award today, because walking up here now means I probably won’t be able to walk up later.” His humorous words, paired with a funny expression, drew laughter from the audience. Host Shu Hang chimed in, “I think we can all understand, because Mr. Gu is nominated for Best Actor, right?”

Gu Yang spread his hands and continued, “I wasn’t too keen when the organizers asked me to present, but when I found out which award it was, I had no objections. There’s someone I really hope will win, and if he does, it would be especially meaningful for me to announce it.”

Shu Hang played along, “I can probably guess who Mr. Gu is talking about.”

“That should be obvious,” Gu Yang smiled.

Shu Hang laughed, “Then let’s first look at the nominations for Best Supporting Actor, though many of you might already know.”

The electronic screen lit up again, showing the nominees: Lu Yan for Blade Edge; Shen Qi for Tianshan; Yu Shuyuan for The Supermarket; Chen Cheng for Decisive Battle; and Zhou Bing for King Lanling.

Soon, the electronic voting ended, and the results were handed to Gu Yang.

Gu Yang glanced at the list, didn’t bother with suspense, and raised the paper excitedly, saying, “I’m very happy to say his name myself. The winner of the 58th Hundred Herbs Award for Best Supporting Actor is—Lu Yan!”

He emphasized the last name loudly, full of vigor, as if he were the one winning.

As soon as he spoke, thunderous applause broke out. Lu Yan stood up amidst the applause. People around him rose to offer their congratulations. Smiling, Lu Yan shook their hands as he slowly made his way out.

When he reached the seat by the aisle, Su Mo was already standing there, waiting with his hand extended. Lu Yan grasped it firmly, squeezing harder than with the others. He couldn’t explain why—the other side was closer to the aisle, but he preferred to walk this way.

As they shook hands, Su Mo moved his lips slightly and whispered, “Congratulations.”

Lu Yan gently squeezed his palm, then turned and walked toward the stage.

On stage, Lu Yan first gave Gu Yang a big hug. They both patted each other on the back, their camaraderie evident and enviable.

After letting go, Lu Yan took the trophy from Gu Yang. Gu Yang hugged his shoulder again, said “Congratulations,” and walked off stage.

Lu Yan raised the trophy and took a moment to compose himself.

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t excited. Even though he was confident about winning, knowing he would win and actually winning were two very different feelings.

Clutching the trophy in his right hand, Lu Yan leaned slightly toward the microphone and said, “First, I want to thank Director Li Ran and the entire Blade Edge crew. Without them, I wouldn’t be standing here today. Next, I want to thank all the audience who voted for me and supported me. Without your recognition, I wouldn’t be here either. Finally, I want to thank myself. Because I know how much effort I’ve put in to reach this moment. This is just the beginning. Thank you!”

Lu Yan raised the trophy high, bowed to the audience, and walked gracefully off stage. His speech was concise but powerful, as if rehearsed countless times. Only Lu Yan knew that before stepping on stage, he hadn’t known what to say.

The awards continued. Next was Best Screenplay, which also went to Blade Edge. Yan Zhan accepted the award calmly. As the industry’s top screenwriter, he had received this award many times.

Then came another highly anticipated award: Best New Actor, also known as Best Newcomer.

This award was special because there weren’t always enough outstanding newcomers each year, nor was the number fixed. So no limit was set on nominations, but it couldn’t exceed five. This year only three actors were nominated: Lu Yan for Blade Edge; Guo Xiaofei for Decisive Battle; and You Zhun for You Said You Love Me.

Unlike Gu Yang, this award’s presenters dragged out the suspense before finally revealing the winner. Unsurprisingly, it was Lu Yan again.

For the second time that night, Lu Yan stood up amid applause, shaking hands with those congratulating him as he went to claim the second significant award of his life. When he passed Su Mo, Su Mo’s eyes shone even brighter, and his smile deepened. As Lu Yan took his hand, he couldn’t help but pull him into a brief hug. The joy and excitement in Lu Yan’s heart begged to be shared.

Taking the trophy from the presenter, before Lu Yan could speak, host Shu Hang asked with a smile, “Lu Yan, how does it feel to stand here for the second time tonight?”

Lu Yan smiled. “I just want to say two words: It’s great! Absolutely great!”

“That sounds like more than two words,” Shu Hang joked.

Lu Yan laughed. “See, I’m so excited I can’t even count anymore.”

After the little joke, Lu Yan leaned toward the microphone and said, “I just said ‘beginning,’ but I didn’t expect to ‘continue’ so soon. Words of thanks can never be said too many times. I still want to thank everyone for your kindness. What I can do is work even harder to repay your affection with better works. Thank you!”

Of course, Lu Yan wasn’t the one who went on stage the most that night. The subsequent Best Director and the final Best Picture both went to Blade Edge. With those two, Li Ran had already gone on stage four times.

As for the most significant awards besides Best Picture—Best Actor and Best Actress—they went to Han Yuan for Decisive Battle and Xi Ting for Tianshan, respectively.

Thus, the biggest winner of the night was the Blade Edge crew, winning a total of seven awards: Best Music, Best Cinematography, Best Supporting Actor, Best Screenplay, Best Newcomer, Best Director, and Best Picture, taking home most of the festival’s awards.

It was said that acting in Li Ran’s films made winning awards easy—and that wasn’t just hype. More importantly, this was a public award, meaning the audience approved. And audience approval meant box office success and profits.

Given such achievements, Starry Sky, as Li Ran’s backer, naturally couldn’t let it slide. After the ceremony, they gathered the available crew members to celebrate.

Celebration naturally called for alcohol. White, red, and beer flowed endlessly onto the tables as if free. None of it cost them anything, of course—the boss would foot the bill. But their livers and stomachs were their own problem, though clearly no one cared.

Those most toasted were Li Ran and Lu Yan.

Usually, no one dared to ply the director with alcohol, but this rare occasion was too good to pass up. Everyone wanted to settle scores or grievances, with almost everyone drinking three or more rounds.

As for Lu Yan, needless to say, winning both Best Supporting Actor and Best Newcomer for his first film was unprecedented—and likely hard to replicate. Best Supporting Actor wasn’t too hard, nor was Best Newcomer, but winning both simultaneously was rare. Amid the mixed feelings of admiration, envy, and jealousy, Lu Yan became a prime target.

As for Su Mo, who sat silently at the table, everyone now realized that the handsome, stern-faced man was the big boss of Starry Sky. His presence kept everyone at a respectful distance. Apart from Li Ran toasting him once, he didn’t drink a drop all night.

By the end, almost everyone was passed out—except Su Mo, who had only had one glass.

The artists naturally had assistants to pick them up. The employees, even if dead drunk, had to miserably hail taxis home. After Li Ran was fetched by his family’s driver, only Su Mo, Lu Yan, and Lu Yan’s assistant Song Hui remained.

Lu Yan had clearly drunk a lot. He had a good tolerance, but the relentless toasts—white, red, and beer in turns—had worn him down. After the party ended, he sat to the side, eyes closed, one hand on his knee rubbing his temples. He handled his liquor gracefully.

Song Hui helped tidy up the aftermath and was about to help Lu Yan up when Su Mo suddenly said, “Song Hui, you go ahead. I’ll take him back.”

Song Hui hesitated, unsure of what to do. Su Mo was the big boss of Starry Sky, but Lu Yan was his direct superior. He couldn’t disobey the big boss, but he also couldn’t ignore his boss’s wishes.

Caught in a bind, Song Hui murmured, “Brother Lu…”

Lu Yan nodded almost imperceptibly. Taking that as agreement, Song Hui stood up and said, “Then I’ll leave it to you, Chairman Su. I’ll head off.”

Su Mo nodded.

After Song Hui left, Su Mo sat for a while longer. Then he stood, walked to Lu Yan, leaned down, and said softly, “Mr. Lu, can you walk on your own?”

After a long pause, Lu Yan opened his eyes. His gaze was still hazy with drunkenness, but he blinked, trying to focus. He nodded at Su Mo and slowly stood.

Once on his feet, Lu Yan paused for a moment, then began walking out step by step. Each step was steady, but painfully slow.

Su Mo walked silently beside him. At first, he thought about offering support, but seeing Lu Yan walk steadily, he decided against it.

When they reached the hotel entrance, Lu Yan continued forward. Su Mo gently tugged his elbow and said softly, “Wait here. I’ll get the car.”

Lu Yan blinked again, as if trying to understand, then nodded and stood still.

Su Mo quickly brought the car around. Lu Yan stood by the door without moving. Su Mo got out, opened the passenger door, and whispered in his ear, “Get in.”

Lu Yan obediently climbed in.

Su Mo leaned in, reached over to fasten the seatbelt, and felt Lu Yan’s warm breath on his neck. He shivered, as if scalded, quickly pulled back, and shut the door.

Returning to the driver’s seat, Su Mo fastened his own seatbelt, steadied his breathing, and started the engine again.

He glanced at Lu Yan, who sat there dazedly, and couldn’t suppress a smile. He was so adorable when drunk, so different from usual.

Su Mo drove quietly toward Lu Yan’s place. After about half an hour, his right hand on the steering wheel was suddenly squeezed. Startled, Su Mo turned to see Lu Yan awake, smiling at him. Lu Yan said slowly, “Don’t go back. Let’s go for a drive.”

Perhaps because he was a bit drunk, Lu Yan’s smile was especially radiant, with a touch of innocence. Su Mo had never seen Lu Yan like this, nor had he ever seen him smile so. His heart raced. He had never been able to refuse Lu Yan’s requests, and this was something he himself longed for. Su Mo nodded, said “Sure,” and turned the car toward the mountaintop they had visited before.

The night was deep. Aside from the occasional driver, the roads were empty of pedestrians and vehicles. Only Lu Yan’s steady breathing filled the space, but Su Mo felt an overwhelming sense of peace. He wished this road would never end, that they could stay like this forever.

Su Mo slowed down, but the mountaintop gradually came into view. No matter how reluctantly, every road has an end.

Su Mo parked, turned off the engine. Even the sound of the motor died, leaving the surroundings even quieter—and Lu Yan’s breathing even clearer.

The moon, just past full, was still round. Without city lights, the moonlight streaming through the windshield was enough for Su Mo to see Lu Yan’s face clearly.

Lu Yan’s eyes were closed. He had woken briefly, spoken those words, then fallen asleep again.

Su Mo gazed at Lu Yan’s defenseless sleeping face and didn’t wake him. The scene was too beautiful to disturb.

How long passed, he didn’t know. Lu Yan’s long eyelashes fluttered; his eyes moved as if he might wake. Su Mo quickly turned away, as if caught doing something wrong.

But Lu Yan shifted slightly without waking. Su Mo couldn’t resist looking back. Even through the thin foundation, he could see faint shadows under Lu Yan’s eyes. Su Mo knew things had been tough for Lu Yan lately, yet Lu Yan endured willingly. Su Mo had no right to interfere.

He often asked Lu Yu about Lu Yan’s condition and schedule through Song Hui. He probably knew better than Lu Yan himself what Lu Yan did each day and what engagements he had. That way, he could always appear at the perfect moment—neither too often nor too rarely, neither annoying nor forgettable. He had never gone to such lengths for anyone.

As for what initially moved him, Su Mo no longer cared to analyze. With every encounter, with every bit more understanding, he found himself sinking deeper and deeper, unable to extricate himself. From the start, he hadn’t seriously resisted that feeling or stopped himself from wanting to know more about this person. And the more he knew, the less he could let go. He had let his feelings run free, and he knew he couldn’t control them.

If love could be controlled at will, it wouldn’t be true love.

But matters of the heart aren’t as simple as battles in the business world. Effort doesn’t always yield results. Su Mo knew well he couldn’t force anything, especially with someone like Lu Yan. So he could only endure—and wait.

Perhaps the waiting had become too long. Though it hadn’t been that long in reality, the torment felt like years. Bathed in moonlight, with the night breeze on the mountaintop and the person beside him sleeping so peacefully, Su Mo suddenly felt he couldn’t bear it any longer. His gaze traced Lu Yan’s gentle brows and eyes, moving down to land on his thin lips. Unable to resist, he slowly leaned over and gently pressed his lips to them.

After that brief touch, Su Mo suppressed the urge to explore further and forced himself to pull away. He looked at Lu Yan’s slightly moistened lips, then, before he lost control, opened the door and stepped out.

The moonlight and the cool night air quenched the heat rising in his chest. Su Mo walked to the railing nearby, leaned against it, pulled out a rarely used cigarette, lit it, and brought it to his lips.