Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 95

When Lu Yiyao finished work and returned home, it was already midnight.

Initially, when he first thought about changing careers, he imagined countless times that being a boss meant having control over his time; as long as he increased his work efficiency, having a regular nine-to-five schedule without any social engagements seemed very natural. However, once he actually became the boss, he realized it wasn’t the case at all.

When he was an artist, his rest was determined by the filming schedule or appearances. Whether it was early starts or working through the night, there was always a clear end to the day, and once work was over, he could instantly switch off and relax completely. But now, when the end of the workday was up to him, he found that there was always more work to be done. Once one thing was handled, another arose, and even when some issues couldn’t be immediately resolved, he had to keep them in mind and plan step by step for their eventual resolution.

As a result, he became the last person to leave the office every night, often thinking “it’s about time to leave” several times before actually leaving.

Recently, he had been consistently leaving work around midnight, mostly thanks to Ran Lin. After observing for two months that his departure times were erratic, ranging from 10 p.m. to 3 a.m., his lover implemented a series of alarm reminders on his phone, a tactic Ran Lin had honed over the years.

So, for the past week, his departure process went like this:

At ten o’clock, the phone alarm would ring, signaling it was about time.

At eleven o’clock, another alarm, suggesting it was time to start packing up.

And at midnight, the final alarm, indicating it was time to head home.

Therefore, when the third alarm rang, it was the time he felt most uplifted.

In October, <Youth of Wuling> was set to start filming, and Yao Hong specially cleared Ran Lin’s entire September to allow him to focus fully on understanding the script. So these days, Lu Yiyao had something special to look forward to every day when he returned home.

The feeling of having someone waiting at home was very comforting.

After starting to semi-live together with Ran Lin, Lu Yiyao dug out an old car from his father’s villa’s garage, one whose style and color were so nondescript it was nearly invisible on the street. Boss Lu was very pleased with this low-profile, almost invisible mode of transportation.

Perhaps due to encountering happy events, Lu Yiyao felt the moon looked particularly beautiful that night. After parking the car in the garage, he took a moment to look up at it before using his fingerprint to unlock the door.

The click of the lock was clear and pleasant in the quiet night. As he opened the door, the bright light from the living room spilled out, yet the house was silent. Lu Yiyao instantly knew that someone had fallen asleep waiting for him.

He entered the foyer, quietly closed the door behind him, changed shoes almost silently, and walked into the living room. As expected, he saw his lover lying on the sofa, sound asleep, tightly clutching an open script to his chest.

Lu Yiyao turned off the bright living room lights and switched on a dim night light before crouching next to the sofa. In the dim and soft light, he quietly watched the face so close to him.

Ran Lin’s lips were slightly parted, breathing evenly and long, with a faint smile as if enjoying a pleasant dream.

Lu Yiyao couldn’t resist and gently stole a kiss. He was as gentle as possible, but the lover still stirred slightly, first frowning and then beginning to move restlessly, as if about to wake up.

But Lu Yiyao had intended to wake him up, although it happened sooner than expected. Nevertheless, he waited patiently for his lover to awaken.

Unexpectedly, Ran Lin, still frowning, didn’t wake up but instead brushed his lips with the back of his hand and continued to hug the script and sleep.

…Lu Yiyao felt somewhat rejected.

Annoyed, he stopped being gentle, silently stood up, undid his tie, took off his shirt, and then quietly removed the script from his lover’s arms, pressing down onto him.

The sofa immediately sank under the weight of the two people.

Ran Lin, sleeping soundly, was suddenly startled awake by the sensation of being “pressed by a ghost”, only to find a face close up. With the living room light dim, he didn’t have the composure to distinguish the face’s details and, out of fright, opened his mouth to scream—

“Mmph…”

Lu Yiyao, quick to act, covered his lover’s mouth and bit down on the other’s neck. The scream that was stuck in Ran Lin’s throat changed its tune.

Ran Lin was pinned down, unable to move or shout, left at the mercy of Lu Yiyao. Only after the other had his fill of kissing and caressing did he finally catch his breath to utter, “You… um…”

Instead of keeping his hand over his mouth, the other switched to sealing it with a kiss. Lu Yiyao’s kisses were both intense and lingering, causing Ran Lin to forget his initial intentions with each one. It felt like going with a diss to criticize a celebrity on their microblog, only to become a fan upon reading the posts, and then frantically supporting them in the end—a mix of frustration and peculiar pleasure.

Today was no different. When Lu Yiyao finally released his lips, Ran Lin, still catching his breath, asked in a daze, “You’re back?”

Charmed by his lover’s cute stupor, Lu Yiyao couldn’t bear to let go and continued to press down, murmuring, “What were you smiling about?”

Ran Lin was confused. “I wasn’t smiling…”

Lu Yiyao: “You were smiling in your sleep.”

Ran Lin’s thoughts slowly cleared, and glancing at the script on the floor, he recalled the remnants of his dream, and the joy from the dream returned, causing him to smile. “I dreamt I became a Movie Emperor.”

Lu Yiyao laughed, knowing that daydreams often lead to night dreams, but to be as unabashed and unpretentious as Ran Lin was particularly endearing. “Yeah, the Movie Emperor will definitely be yours.”

Ran Lin had expected Lu Yiyao to tease him, but instead, he got this affirmation. The statement seemed like it should have a backstory to make sense, so he asked curiously, “Why should it be mine? It’s just a wild dream.”

Lu Yiyao was taken aback by Ran Lin’s words, slightly propping himself up and blinking at his lover, realizing they might have been talking about different things in their daze.

“Didn’t you see the news?” Lu Yiyao decided to first clarify the situation seriously.

Ran Lin was completely clueless. “What news? I’ve been reading the script all day.”

As expected.

Lu Yiyao couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time. So, it wasn’t that Ran Lin’s dreams were influenced by his thoughts during the day, but that he had a premonition!

“The list of nominees for the XX Film Festival was released today.” Lu Yiyao felt destined to be the harbinger of good news. “You’ve been nominated for Best Actor.”

“…Me?!” Ran Lin was stunned for a few seconds before he could voice his disbelief.

Lu Yiyao was very pleased with this reaction, which gave him a sense of achievement, so he casually dropped another bomb. “And me too.”

This time, Ran Lin was utterly shocked. “Really?!”

Lu Yiyao continued, “And Gu Jie.”

Ran Lin was speechless. “……”

Lu Yiyao added, “And Zhang Beichen.”

Ran Lin quipped, “Is the director of the Drifting Group the chairman of the film festival jury or what…”

Having had his fun and delivered the good news, Lu Yiyao contentedly went to take a shower, leaving Ran Lin sitting alone in the living room, scrolling through Weibo to gauge public opinion.

At this point, the controversy over whether Di Jiangtao was a lead actor had vanished, and the trending topic “Feeling sorry for Xia Xinran” was glaringly displayed. Ran Lin initially worried that something had happened to Xia Xinran and clicked in anxiously, only to find out… Ran Lin just felt sorry for the needless worry he put himself through.

Besides Xia Xinran, “National First Love Drifting Story” also trended.

The long-missed words stirred up indescribable emotions in Ran Lin, and before he knew it, he had clicked into the hot search. The entire vibe of the hot search was like this—

[Several Paparazzi Return From Ancient Times: Four guests from National First Love Drifting Story jointly nominated for Best Actor at XX Film Festival 😮! Four out of five people were nominated, occupying four out of five spots, both the nomination rate and the share reaching 80%! Which other show can achieve this! National First Love Drifting Story, the cradle of Movie Kings!…[View full text]]

[Li Bai On The Boat: Do you want to make a breakthrough in your acting career? Do you want to firmly establish yourself as a serious actor? Do you want to be nominated for Best Actor at a young age? Join National First Love Drifting Story! No charges for two months of filming, all expenses covered, and you even get paid, either daily or seasonally. Post-filming distribution not included, but the employment rate for “serious actors” from this variety show is as high as 80%! What are you waiting for!]

The marketing accounts seized the opportunity, and the humorists added their touch, resulting in countless people flocking to the main subject’s page. Unexpectedly, the official Weibo of the long-silent Drifting Story was still maintained and quickly caught up with the trend—

[We are seriously considering 😮‍💨 //@Daily Hair-Combing: How about a second season? The domestic film industry needs you 😮‍💨 @National First Love Drifting Story]

Naturally, netizens were happy to see such interactions. Although nothing was confirmed yet, the buzz might rekindle the television station’s confidence in the program, and given the current popularity, sponsors should be easy to find. Hence, the comments section was very active, with occasional mentions of the first season’s participants.

After seeing Zhang Beichen’s name for who knows how many times, Ran Lin followed the mentions to his Weibo, not sure what to feel, perhaps just genuinely curious about how he views the joint nomination.

However, there was no recent activity on Zhang Beichen’s Weibo, the latest post being a retweet of an event advertisement dated July 2^nd.

Ran Lin stared at the date, zoning out.

This meant that Zhang Beichen hadn’t updated his Weibo for almost two months.

Ran Lin scrolled further down and noticed that since February, around the time Zhang Beichen was hospitalized, the frequency of his posts began to slow down, from every one or two days to every two or three days, then to every three or four days, a week, two weeks… and now, two months without a peep.

Zhang Beichen’s hospital stay wasn’t long, and he quickly informed everyone of his discharge through a post with a selfie, looking seemingly fine. But Ran Lin recalled carefully that after that, Zhang Beichen was hardly seen on any screen, big or small, with very little news coverage. <Mint Green> was released in February, and it’s now the end of August, more than half a year. The time might not seem long, but such silence is quite unusual for a popular male star who just finished a major IP project with momentum on his side.

After Lu Yiyao finished his shower and dried his hair, he saw Ran Lin still scrolling through his phone. Just as he was about to suggest that Ran Lin rest, he noticed something was off with his expression and immediately went over. “What’s wrong?”

Ran Lin looked up, not quite catching it. “Huh?”

Lu Yiyao sat down beside him, gently rubbing his forehead with his thumb. “I was asking what you’re looking at. You seem deeply troubled.”

“Zhang Beichen’s Weibo.” Ran Lin took Lu Yiyao’s hand off and naturally intertwined their fingers. “He seems to have suddenly disappeared. It’s a bit strange. Like today’s nomination, even if he doesn’t want to ride the wave of popularity, at least he should share it on Weibo to let his fans know he’s been nominated.”

“……” Lu Yiyao hadn’t expected to hear Zhang Beichen’s name and hesitated for a moment, not sure what to say.

Ran Lin knew Lu Yiyao’s expressions too well, and since he wasn’t making any effort to hide his feelings, he immediately guessed the gist. “Do you know what’s going on?”

The news about Zhang Beichen, Lu Yiyao felt, wasn’t of much significance to him and Ran Lin. He had inquired only to be prepared and not get blindsided again. But what Yao Hong told him and what he’d heard from attending social events in the last two months complicated his feelings, making it even less necessary to share with Ran Lin, only adding to the sighs.

However, not speaking is one thing; being asked directly is another. Now that Ran Lin sensed something was off about Zhang Beichen’s situation, withholding the truth would only make him worry more.

“It’s like this,” Lu Yiyao slowly began. “The last time I saw Zhang Beichen, I felt something was off about his state, and since you told me he followed that boss, I had Hong Jie help me look into that Mr. Qin…”

“And then?” Ran Lin didn’t expect Lu Yiyao to have done so much behind the scenes.

“Hong Jie is familiar with that Mr. Qin, so it didn’t take much effort to find out. Zhang Beichen indeed followed him, and <Mint Green> was indeed a project Mr. Qin got for him. But as for why Zhang Beichen was in the state we last saw him, Hong Jie couldn’t find anything concrete. However, it must be related to Mr. Qin because, ever since being with him, Zhang Beichen has practically had no other social life and nothing unusual in his work either. So, the only one who could have had such a big impact on his mood is Mr. Qin.”

Ran Lin didn’t understand. “If it’s because of Mr. Qin, can’t they just break up? With Zhang Beichen’s current fame, he doesn’t need to rely on anyone and could have plenty of resources.”

“It’s not as simple as him wanting to break up and being able to.” Lu Yiyao sighed lightly. “Mr. Qin has sponsored several artists before—some famous, some not—all were lavished with resources while with him and completely ignored after splitting up. But without exception, it was Mr. Qin who initiated the breakups, meaning if Zhang Beichen wants to leave, it’s only possible if Mr. Qin agrees.”

“But he’s the one with the legs; if he really wants to leave, can’t he just go?” Ran Lin felt his logic was sound, considering the entertainment industry isn’t a lawless land, even such relationships must follow the rules, right?

“He indeed can’t be stopped physically, but he can be attacked and retaliated against,” Lu Yiyao explained.

Ran Lin began to understand. “You mean…”

Lu Yiyao nodded. “I heard it last month at a social event. They didn’t mention Zhang Beichen specifically, just talked about a little star Mr. Qin was sponsoring wanting to break up. It got ugly, and Mr. Qin had no choice but to let go, but not without using his connections to basically blacklist the person.”

“So, he won’t attend the film festival award ceremony, even if nominated?” Ran Lin hadn’t expected it to be like this.

“He should attend the film festival,” Lu Yiyao said. “It involves the reputation of <Mint Green>.”

Ran Lin understood what Lu Yiyao meant. <Mint Green> was a project Mr. Qin landed using his clout, and it wouldn’t look good for the entire team if the lead actor were absent from the awards ceremony, even if <Mint Green> had already finished its run.

“Stop worrying,” Lu Yiyao comforted, stroking his lover’s hair. “Everyone chooses their own path. If you get blisters from walking, the pain is yours to bear.”

……

In late September, the film festival opened, and a few days later, the award ceremony was held as scheduled. Essentially the closing ceremony of the festival, stars walked the red carpet and entered the venue to witness the award distribution.

Ran Lin arrived at the venue with Lu Yiyao but was separated at the red carpet waiting area as <Dyeing Fire> and <Splitting Moon>, both nominated for Best Picture at the festival, meant the entire teams walked the red carpet together.

Gu Jie, in a black suit, was unusually subdued and gentlemanly. His first words to Ran Lin were, “Why so late!”

Ran Lin intended to greet the director first, but seeing He Guan engrossed in conversation, he teased his friend instead. “Should I take it that you’ve been eager to see me?”

Gu Jie bluntly retorted, “I was worried you’d be late and hold our team back.”

Ran Lin rolled his eyes, about to retort, when he saw Jiang Yi being brought over by a staff member, clearly just arriving.

“Long time no see,” Jiang Yi greeted in a sweet, lovely white dress, looking around for the director. Like Ran Lin, she gave up greeting the busy director and joined the casual chat instead.

Jiang Yi was nominated for Best Supporting Actress this time, so Ran Lin directly wished her luck. “I think you have a shot tonight.”

Jiang Yi looked at him for a while before reluctantly replying, “I think you’re a long shot tonight.”

Gu Jie, misunderstanding her intent, laughed. “Good insight.”

Jiang Yi, realizing Gu Jie’s misunderstanding, clarified, “You? You’re even more of a long shot.”

Even the thick-skinned Gu Jie felt the sting of such a direct blow. Ran Lin laughed heartily, then asked, “So, who do you think will win Best Actor?”

Jiang Yi looked around, perhaps cautious of being overheard, and whispered, “Teacher Wang or Lu Yiyao.”

Teacher Wang was an old, highly respected actor in the industry, already a previous winner of the festival’s Best Actor and still a favorite to win this time.

“Ah…”

Gu Jie sighed heavily, about to complain about Jiang Yi’s lack of loyalty to their team, when he heard Ran Lin say—

“I also fancy Lu Yiyao’s chances.”

Gu Jie realized sadly he was outnumbered… in this superficial world that judges by appearances!

Ran Lin smiled, intending to continue the teasing, when he suddenly caught sight of someone in the distance looking their way, freezing his smile.

Gu Jie, noticing Ran Lin’s change in demeanor, followed his gaze and understood immediately.

Zhang Beichen.

He was with the <Mint Green> team, but while the director and other actors were engaged in conversation, he stood quietly apart, as if in his own space, out of place with his peers.

Their eyes met across the distance.

On Zhang Beichen’s side, there was hardly any emotional fluctuation—only a detached gaze toward the two of them. His eyes were as calm as a still pool, giving the impression that his look was merely coincidental, with no connection to whether they knew each other or had any rapport.

Ran Lin and Gu Jie were simultaneously surprised—Zhang Beichen had lost a lot of weight. Though his well-tailored suit made him look upright, a side glance revealed a thinner silhouette, and the change in his face was quite obvious.

Unhealthy thinness and weight loss from exercise are two different things. The latter, no matter how much weight is lost, retains firm facial lines due to continuous exercise. The former, however, leads to relaxed facial muscles and an unmistakably haggard look. Perhaps it’s not true haggardness, makeup may cover dark circles, but the spiritlessness is evident.

And that was precisely how Zhang Beichen appeared.

Zhang Beichen was the first to avert his gaze, while Gu Jie and Ran Lin continued to look at him for a while longer, feeling somewhat complicated.

“Is he okay?” Gu Jie asked directly. “Why has he lost so much weight?”

Ran Lin didn’t know how to explain to his friend, feeling it was too difficult to make Gu Jie understand the complexity of same-sex sponsorship relationships, especially those that end badly, even to the extent of using connections for retribution.

“Hey—”

Suddenly, someone burst in from behind, slapping a hand heavily on each of their shoulders.

Ran Lin and Gu Jie jumped, turning around to see Xia Xinran grinning with a brilliant smile.

“Miss me—?”

At that moment, no one dared to say no, knowing well Xia Xinran’s fierce nature. So, Ran Lin immediately nodded but was genuinely surprised. “How come you’re here?”

Xia Xinran rolled his eyes. “If only nominees could walk the red carpet, it’d be quite dull.”

Ran Lin agreed. There were only a few nominated films, and the count of nominated lead and supporting actors and actresses could easily be tallied, hardly filling even a tenth of the large venue. The XX Film Festival was a grand affair in the domestic entertainment circle, so Xia Xinran’s invitation made perfect sense.

But his presence in this particular spot was a bit irregular.

“Who are you walking the red carpet with later? Don’t wander around and mess up the arrangement,” Gu Jie was quick to catch onto their friend’s quirks.

“Mind your own walk, and you won’t have to worry about me,” Xia Xinran retorted, initially wanting to glare at Gu Jie but his gaze drifted, catching sight of Zhang Beichen. Like Ran Lin and Gu Jie, he was momentarily stunned by the change in Zhang Beichen.

But before he could ponder further, staff members came to organize everyone to enter in sequence—the red carpet show had begun.

As important nominees, Ran Lin, Gu Jie, and He Guan were scheduled to enter later, so they waited quite a while before it was their turn.

Jiang Yi and He Guan walked in the middle, with Ran Lin and Gu Jie on either side, entering the venue together. Amidst the relentless shutter clicks, the group reached the center of attention, posing for the media before moving to the elegant signature wall to leave their autographs.

As they approached the signature wall, the main creative teams of <Mint Green> and <Split Moon> made their entrances one after another. The succession of popular films’ teams brought the red carpet show to a climax. When Ran Lin and his group reached the signature wall, the previous guests hadn’t finished signing, so they waited their turn.

Unexpectedly, during this wait, Zhang Beichen and Lu Yiyao also arrived with their respective film’s teams. From the media closest to the signature wall, someone shouted, “How about a photo together for the Drifting Story group?”

The suggestion quickly gained support, as everyone loves a catchy story to write about.

Ran Lin and Gu Jie had finished signing and were technically free to leave, but upon hearing the photographers’ suggestion, He Guan and Jiang Yi naturally assumed they were willing to participate and waited alongside them.

It wasn’t exactly against their will; it was just a photo, so after exchanging a glance, Gu Jie and Ran Lin agreed to wait for Lu Yiyao and Zhang Beichen to finish signing and join them.

Zhang Beichen was the first to approach. His team, due to the larger number of people, had moved on ahead into the venue, leaving him to take the photo with his “brothers”.

Ran Lin and Gu Jie stood side by side, facing the cameras, with Ran Lin closer to the signature wall. So, when Zhang Beichen approached, he stood near Ran Lin but not shoulder to shoulder, maintaining a distance of about a hand’s breadth and without making eye contact, directly facing the media.

Lu Yiyao came after, and to avoid being too close to the signature wall and hindering others coming to sign, he had to move to Gu Jie’s side.

Finally positioned, some impatient photographers had already clicked their shutters, but there were always those meticulous reporters seeking perfection. “Come a little closer—”

Hearing this, Gu Jie cooperated fully, immediately draping his arms over the shoulders of Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin, one on each side, drawing them close in an intimate huddle.

The moment Gu Jie pulled him in, Ran Lin instinctively glanced at Zhang Beichen, who still stood in his original spot. Initially just an arm’s length away, the distance between them had now doubled due to Ran Lin being drawn closer to Gu Jie, creating a gap so wide it was as if Zhang Beichen could be completely cropped out of the picture.

Ran Lin found this strange; it wasn’t typical of Zhang Beichen, who, even in the face of confrontation, maintained a public persona of deep brotherhood with the Drifting Group on social media or in public.

Some photographers noticed this too, thinking Zhang Beichen was unaware, and urged him to move closer. Ran Lin wasn’t sure if it was just his perception, but he thought he saw a hint of hesitation in Zhang Beichen’s otherwise steady gaze.

However, the moment didn’t allow for much hesitation. Regardless of their internal dynamics, being portrayed as discordant would do no one any favors. With this in mind, Ran Lin simply raised his arm and also wrapped it around Zhang Beichen’s shoulder.

The moment he did, Ran Lin could distinctly feel Zhang Beichen stiffen, but he still pulled him in with determination. Finally, all four were fully “shoulder to shoulder.”

The photographers were satisfied with the arrangement, and the sound of shutters continued until a staff member urged them to move on, concluding the group photo. As Ran Lin retracted his arm, he noticed a distinct change in Zhang Beichen’s expression, different from the indifference he had shown in the waiting area. Though he couldn’t discern the exact emotion, it was evident enough that when their eyes met, Zhang Beichen quickly turned away and briskly walked into the venue.

Ran Lin felt as if he had read a hint of bitterness in Zhang Beichen’s fleeting gaze, but the moment was too brief to be sure.

Inside the venue, all the teams of the nominated films were arranged in the same area, effectively a “waiting area” for potential winners. Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao were seated in front and behind each other, but slightly offset, allowing Ran Lin to shamelessly ask He Guan if they could switch seats as he was directly facing Lu Yiyao.

The journalists were very satisfied, and the sound of shutters was incessant. It wasn’t until the staff came over to urge them that the four finally ended their “group photo”. When Ran Lin withdrew his arm, he noticed that Zhang Beichen’s expression was completely different from the indifferent one he had in the waiting area before. Although he couldn’t distinguish what the emotion was, the fluctuation was obvious. So obvious that as soon as their eyes met, Zhang Beichen turned his face away and quickly entered the venue.

Director He was unaware of the reason for his leading actor’s seat change, but he didn’t have the curiosity to ask and agreed immediately. Thus, what was originally Director He, Gu Jie, Jiang Yi, and Ran Lin became Ran Lin, Gu Jie, Jiang Yi, and Director He.

After Ran Lin reseated himself, Jiang Yi, across Gu Jie, reproached him, “Do you dislike sitting next to me that much?”

Ran Lin was speechless and could only say, “I think the chair the director sat in might have better luck.”

Jiang Yi was speechless, and Gu Jie directly criticized, “That’s all feudal superstition. Teacher Lu, what do you think?”

Only after a friend reminded him did Ran Lin realize that Lu Yiyao had turned around at some point and was smiling as he watched them bicker.

“I think it’s fine, just sit here,” Lu Yiyao answered.

Gu Jie was annoyed. “I shouldn’t have asked you. When it comes to Ran Lin, you just have no stance.”

Lu Yiyao blinked innocently without agreeing or disagreeing. Ran Lin lowered his eyes, sneaking in joy like a child who got away with cheating on a test.

As the doors of the venue closed and the noise gradually subsided until it was quiet as a graveyard, the award ceremony finally began.

The lights dimmed, leaving only dazzling lights and shadows on the stage. Dancers slowly appeared and danced to the music, taking the audience into a dreamlike world.

After the song and dance, the audience erupted into thunderous applause, and the elegant host took the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, dear audience friends, good evening…”

This was Ran Lin’s first time attending such an award ceremony, and he watched and listened intently.

The first award to be presented was for Best Supporting Actress. Ran Lin glanced at Jiang Yi and could clearly feel her tension.

The two award presenters on stage were humorous, but the nominated actors couldn’t really relax. Ran Lin glanced at Jiang Yi, and though she was smiling, her unconsciously clenched hands showed her nervousness.

As the big screen began to show clips of the nominated actresses’ performances along with accompanying voiceovers, “Nominated for Best Supporting Actress are Feng Pei in <The Day You Left>… Zhou Xiaomeng in <The Sky Grows Dark>… Jiang Yi in <Dyeing Fire>…”

When the clips ended, the female presenter picked up the envelope and announced the result—

“Feng Pei!”

The camera immediately focused on Feng Pei for a close-up. The actress stood up to accept congratulations from her colleagues and then slowly went onstage. As the presenter announced the winner, Ran Lin instinctively looked at Jiang Yi and noticed that, although there was a fleeting disappointment in her eyes, there was more resignation and… relief. Clearly, for Jiang Yi, the uncertainty of “hanging in there” was more unbearable than not winning at all.

Ran Lin looked away, his heart settling down, realizing that the girl was more open-minded than he thought.

Although he felt that Jiang Yi deserved the award for her performance in <Dyeing Fire>, just being nominated was already an affirmation for her. Objectively speaking, all five nominated actresses had outstanding performances in their respective films, and who would ultimately win really depended on fate.

As Feng Pei finished her acceptance speech, the award ceremony continued.

Best Supporting Actor, Best Newcomer, Best Screenwriter…

The further the ceremony progressed, the more prestigious the awards became. Ran Lin’s heart rose again until it was time for the Best Actor award!

The presenters were the Best Actor from the previous year and a female actress who had won in earlier years. The handsome man and beautiful woman worked well together, amusing the audience and cleverly leading into the Best Actor award.

Clips for the Best Actor nominees played on the big screen—

“Nominated for Best Actor are Gu Jie in <Dyeing Fire>… Lu Yiyao in <Split Moon>… Ran Lin in <Dyeing Fire>… Zhang Beichen in <Mint Green>…”

Ran Lin watched as the performance clips of the nominees were played one after the other, his heart reciting Lu Yiyao’s name from start to finish.

He hoped Lu Yiyao would win, wishing for a perfect end to his acting career.

“The Best Actor is…”

Ran Lin’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest with the presenter’s pause.

“Lu Yiyao!”

As soon as the words were spoken, Ran Lin and Gu Jie stood up even faster than Lu Yiyao, who was beginning to clap. The fellow colleagues, taken aback, thought the two were too eager to win and had made a mistake.

But, after accepting congratulations from his crew on either side, Lu Yiyao stood up and turned directly back.

Gu Jie, who was waiting for a while, was the first to hug him. “Congratulations—”

The judging panel’s praise for Lu Yiyao began to play in the background. “His performance is natural and detailed, portraying a character with split personality troubles…”

Gu Jie sincerely congratulated his friend, not bothering to lower his voice, but his voice was drowned out by the background praise, only audible to those nearby.

His hug was strong and ended quickly, in just a second or two. After Gu Jie stepped back, Lu Yiyao looked at Ran Lin, smiling leisurely.

From the moment of winning, the camera had been on Lu Yiyao, his every move, every smile clear on the big screen.

But what of it.

At this moment, they were rightly justified.

Ran Lin stepped forward and hugged Lu Yiyao tightly, using all his strength.

No need for congratulations. Everything was understood just holding him like this.

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