Chi Feiran didn’t expect Rong Jin to care about something like this and was dumbfounded for a moment. He looked at him seriously and realized he was genuinely concerned…
Chi Feiran couldn’t hold back and laughed.
Seeing him laugh, Rong Jin reached out to touch his cheek, his own expression softening. He said, “That’s better. Let’s both be happier.”
Chi Feiran’s lips retained a smile, and he couldn’t help but nuzzle into Rong Jin’s palm, feeling a reassuring warmth.
What’s done is done, and there’s no point in dwelling on it. Rong Jin was right; it’s better for both of them to be happy.
Moreover, they had important matters to focus on now. Both Chi Feiran and Rong Jin turned their attention to the upcoming Oscars ceremony, where they would be attending in person.
Chi Feiran received his invitation from E&E, while Rong Jin’s invitation came directly from Director Zhuo Jiansheng, who had invited him once he knew Rong Jin was in Country A. They had worked together before, and if the script for “Wan Rong” had offered more room for a male lead, Rong Jin might have taken the role of the last emperor.
Director Zhuo Jiansheng had always regretted this. Although he was satisfied with the actor he had used, having Rong Jin in “Wan Rong” would undoubtedly have added more brilliance to the film.
Chi Feiran and Rong Jin didn’t walk the red carpet but entered the venue directly, keeping their attendance low-key. They didn’t need the extra exposure; their names were already hot topics online, and since they had no works competing at the Oscars, the association could have negative repercussions. So, they stayed low-profile.
After the “Wan Rong” crew walked the red carpet and entered the venue, Director Zhuo Jiansheng found Rong Jin. He seemed in a particularly good mood, exuding a spirited confidence that was hard to hide.
Chi Feiran noticed this, and recalled Rong Jin’s pessimism about “Wan Rong” winning, feeling regretful for not paying more attention to such matters before.
He only remembered the most recent Best Picture before his rebirth because it was a semi-biographical film about a pianist he liked. Beyond that, he couldn’t recall much.
If only he had paid more attention back then…
Chi Feiran couldn’t help thinking this way. But then, he felt confused—what difference would knowing make?
Could he have changed anything?
This thought made him uneasy.
Director Zhuo had returned to the crew, and Rong Jin asked him softly, “What’s wrong?”
Chi Feiran instinctively replied, “Nothing.”
Rong Jin’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he quietly held Chi Feiran’s hand resting on the back of the chair, offering silent comfort.
Chi Feiran looked at Rong Jin, who usually hid his emotions well. At his level, showing emotions was not advantageous. But now, he could see a faint emotion slowly emerging from Rong Jin’s expression.
That emotion didn’t sit well with Chi Feiran. He could guess the reason but didn’t know how to comfort him. He could only hold Rong Jin’s hand in return.
Until the award ceremony ended, both remained silent.
For three hours, they witnessed another defeat for a Chinese film at the Oscars. Despite ten nominations, “Wan Rong” won nothing, not even a technical consolation award.
This year was undoubtedly a big year for the Oscars, with all participating films being exceptionally good. But facing such results, how could the Chinese film community not be affected?
Wasn’t even one award worth giving?
Chi Feiran didn’t think so. He and Rong Jin had watched all the nominated films in recent days. To say they were significantly better than “Wan Rong” wasn’t true. But still… there was nothing.
When it was all over, Rong Jin stood up and said to Chi Feiran, “Let’s go.”
It seemed he had moved past the disappointing outcome, but Chi Feiran knew better. Even he had countless doubts in his heart. How could Rong Jin have none?
But Chi Feiran knew now wasn’t the time to discuss it. Saying the Oscars were unfair or that it didn’t matter wouldn’t help Rong Jin feel any better.
They didn’t discuss it, but the Chinese internet was in an uproar over the results.
Some were indignant: “Even if they were dividing up the awards like pork, we should have gotten one! They clearly don’t respect us!”
“An American award, does it matter if we win or not? We should appreciate our own films!”
Others mocked Director Zhuo: “He seemed so impressive, but why couldn’t he win an award? Took up the nomination spot for nothing!”
The Best Foreign Language Film nomination is selected by the national film bureau, with only one film per country. With “Wan Rong” being chosen, other films lost their chance. Previously analyzed to have a high chance of winning, the suppressed dissatisfaction now erupted.
Though there were many rational comments, the extreme ones stirred up the most emotions.
Chi Feiran read through the online comments, his frown deepening. Rong Jin came over and took the tablet from his hands, saying, “It’s late. Time to sleep.”
Chi Feiran held back but finally said, “Director Zhuo’s film is really good…”
Rong Jin rubbed his head. “I know.”
Chi Feiran opened his mouth but didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know if it was indignation or something else.
Especially after learning about the Oscars’ selection mechanism, he couldn’t help but think that maybe he could help where Chinese filmmakers were struggling.
Lost in thought, he remained silent, and Rong Jin sat beside him.
Rong Jin said, “Don’t think too much. This isn’t your responsibility to bear. Chinese films have been recognized before.”
It’s just relatively harder.
Rong Jin couldn’t blame the Oscars’ judging system entirely because he was part of the industry and knew the issues within Chinese cinema.
Policies restricting creativity, limited industry support, many former great directors now turning to more profitable commercial films—making good films required perfect timing, location, and people. Art is beautiful, but even heroes can succumb to financial pressures.
Rong Jin slowly said, “To change all this, it’s not the power of one person or one award that will make the difference.”
Chinese films had won Oscars before, but what followed? After the celebration, everything gradually reverted to old patterns.
Rong Jin seemed to smile before saying, “Besides, does not winning an Oscar mean it’s not a good film?”
Cultural conflicts, capital power, and political factors all influence award results, but the quality of a work won’t be forgotten by the world just because it doesn’t win an award.
He said, “Chinese cinema will have its day to prove itself.”
This wasn’t an idealistic self-comforting statement because he himself was walking this path, striving for it.
Chi Feiran looked at him blankly, but his heartbeat quickened involuntarily. He felt…he felt…
Chi Feiran snapped out of it, instantly scolding himself for being so shallow!
Rong Jin was discussing a very serious issue with him, but in that instant, he could only think about how handsome his boyfriend was!
Chi Feiran tried to correct his thoughts and seriously said to Rong Jin, “I’ll work hard with you.”
Previously, his goals were somewhat vague. He wanted to prove himself in this field, but in hindsight, the goal seemed rather vague and lofty.
What would constitute proof? Album sales reaching a certain number? Or acting awards?
Chi Feiran felt he now had the answer. The person before him was his answer.
This person was like a living signboard, his name a guarantee of the quality of his works. Countless people saw the name “Rong Jin” and would unhesitatingly enter the theater.
Was it just because he was handsome? No, after ten years, even the most attractive face should become familiar.
A good-looking actor might get more opportunities, but it also comes with more constraints.
An outstanding appearance inherently weakens an actor’s performance because it draws too much attention, requiring even greater effort to overcome.
When Chi Feiran first entered the industry, he knew little and thought that being a star or actor was about looking good. In his eyes, Rong Jin was the pinnacle.
But after truly understanding, he realized it wasn’t the case.
Rong Jin’s exceptional looks required him to use even more acting skills to offset the distraction his appearance caused. His height added limitations when acting with co-stars.
These shortcomings could be fatal when an actor’s skill wasn’t enough to convey everything through performance.
But Rong Jin succeeded. The roles he played were almost all classics, and production teams willingly spent more time finding suitable co-stars for him.
Thinking of these things, Chi Feiran felt proud of his boyfriend and knew he had to work harder.
In April, Chi Feiran’s name once again appeared on Weibo’s hot search, but this time, it wasn’t tied to Rong Jin—it was because his art exam results were out!
He ranked first in the acting department of A City’s Film Academy!
His name topped the posted rankings, and along with the results, a video of his audition was released. His beautiful Tai Chi sword routine immediately drew everyone’s attention.
However, Chi Feiran’s focus wasn’t on this. He had just received a carefully selected script from Li Yuan!
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