CDJMM – Volume 4 – Chapter 30 Filming in the Interstellar Era (30)

Le Jing was, after all, a director. He didn’t need to endlessly pose on the red carpet for the reporters, so he walked rather quickly—and ended up bumping straight into a few actors from the crew ahead.

They were the male and female leads of Dawn Breaks: Mo Ran and Liu Yi, two rising stars with over 200 million followers each on StarBlog, and also the two who had been highly favored to win awards beforehand.

To be honest, their acting in the drama was simply mediocre—only slightly better than Huang Tingting from the Republic-era drama crew. The Red Peony Awards invited them mostly for their popularity. They were essentially the guaranteed ratings boosters for tonight.

The host made a small hand gesture at Le Jing, signaling him to wait until the photoshoot in front finished.

Le Jing stopped and nodded good-naturedly.

He didn’t wait long before the rest of his own cast arrived one after another. But since the front still hadn’t finished taking photos, they had no choice but to wait as well.

Huang Tingting looked enviously at the dazzlingly glamorous man and woman ahead. Though they walked on the same red carpet, it felt like they belonged to two different worlds.

When would she ever become someone the reporters chased after?

The director cut suddenly switched the camera, giving the Republic-era drama crew—who were waiting at the side—not even one full second of screen time. Something Le Jing didn’t care about at all instantly made the fans blow up online. In their eyes, this was “solid proof” that he had been wronged.

Luo Lan’s heart felt sour.

They were all walking the same red carpet—so why did their crew have to wait until Dawn Breaks was done before they could pass? Why was their crew so pitifully ignored?

The fandom group chat exploded:

[Black Cat Knight]: Our crew has real skill and real ratings. Why should we give way to that trash drama Dawn Breaks?

[Neighbor Lao Wang With Slight Bald Spot]: To be fair, though… I think Dawn Breaks has a strong chance of winning awards this year.

[Snacks Still Haven’t Arrived]: What the hell is Dawn Breaks even acting?! Isn’t it just a cheesy love triangle drama dressed up as a historical epic?? Mo Ran only knows how to widen his eyes, and Liu Yi just pouts! Their acting isn’t even as good as my husky’s! What right do they have to win anything?!

[Stay Up Too Long And Baldness Comes]: Ratings, of course… The organizers invited them for their popularity to boost the broadcast numbers. They have to give them awards—can’t let them show up for nothing.

[Three Hamsters Very Cute]: What “industry authority” is the Red Peony Award anyway? They give awards based on traffic not talent? Trash festival! It’s over!

[Do You Baldly Think of Me]: It’s been five minutes already. Why are Mo Ran and Liu Yi still there?! How long are they blocking the red carpet?!

After nearly five minutes, the glamorous pair finally left amid fans’ reluctant screams, and Le Jing’s group could finally move forward for their interview.

But compared to the enthusiasm shown toward Dawn Breaks, the host’s attitude toward Le Jing’s crew was perfunctory at best. A few bland questions and they were quickly ushered off the carpet.

With such obvious differential treatment, even though the crew had never expected to win, they couldn’t help feeling discouraged.

Huang Tingting, being the youngest, didn’t yet know how to hide her emotions, and her face showed it.

Le Jing noticed easily. He silently sighed—still just a kid.

He slowed down slightly and subtly nudged her, whispering, “This momentary glamour means nothing.”

Huang Tingting looked up in surprise, and the young man blinked at her with a smile. “Who ends up winning awards… isn’t decided yet.”

Huang Tingting stared, then her eyes lit up. Her smile grew wider and wider; all her gloom disappeared instantly.

Brother Jing never said anything without confidence. Since he said so… maybe they really could win something!

The Capital International Film Festival, a global event, included 53 TV dramas from different countries and regions across six planets. The four most anticipated and competitive awards were Best Actress, Best Actor, Best Director, and Best Television Drama.

Republic-Era Literary Notes was nominated for Best Director and Best Television Drama. Therefore, the director and main cast were arranged in the first three rows near the aisle—for the possibility they might need to go on stage.

Huang Tingting looked around excitedly, occasionally gasping softly after spotting some celebrity she admired.

Her earlier sadness was completely forgotten.

Li Jianye whispered to Le Jing, “Do you think we have a chance of winning?”

With Li Jianye, Le Jing didn’t hide anything. “Qi Jiang Streaming said they’d help with publicity. But just in case, I privately contacted Director An Yun.”

Li Jianye was stunned. “An Yun helped you lobby for votes?”

Le Jing glanced at him. “Of course not. I asked him to recommend a reliable PR company.” (He didn’t mention that Director An had hinted he’d speak to some old friends on their behalf.)

Someone like An Yun, with decades of experience, obviously wasn’t spotless. Everyone knew that even with high-quality work, you needed some PR work during award season. Who knew what ‘accidents’ could happen otherwise?

Li Jianye asked again, “How much did it cost? I’ll pay half.”

Le Jing shook his head. “Didn’t spend anything. Their price was too high—enough for me to film a whole movie. I thought it was too expensive, so I gave up.”

Li Jianye smiled helplessly, his expression tinged with bitterness.

After a moment he asked quietly, “What do you think we have the best chance of winning?”

Le Jing thought. “Forget the acting awards. Best Director is uncertain. Best Television Drama is possible. But it’s also not impossible that we win nothing. We might just be here to walk the red carpet.”

Li Jianye nodded bitterly—he thought the same.

The presenter for this segment was a former Best Actress winner of the Red Peony Awards, a senior figure in the industry.

The Red Peony Awards alternated between acting and technical categories to help keep ratings up during less-popular segments.

Le Jing’s guess was correct.

Their crew indeed won nothing in the acting categories.

Best Actor and Actress both went to Dawn Breaks.

The veteran actor from Starsea Lake remained the perennial runner-up.

Best Supporting Actor and Actress went to Warm Times and Starsea Lake.

Best International Drama went to a series from the European Union.

The “pork-distribution” nature of the Red Peony Awards was on full display.

Luo Bao had already looked away from his optical screen.

He complained in the group chat: “Red Peony has fallen. Look at this year’s Best Actor and Actress—what a joke. Probably the weakest batch ever.”

Others chimed in:

“Yeah, traffic rules everything now. Low quality drives out the good.”

“Ai, our crew is poor with no capital backing. We’re destined cannon fodder.”

“You think we have any chance at Best Drama or Best Director?”

“You’re too naive. The Dawn Breaks director is top-tier. He made that drama for awards. Republic-Era Literary Notes is definitely out. Dawn Breaks will sweep.”

“But wasn’t our show praised by People’s Daily just recently? If they don’t give us anything, wouldn’t that slap the official media in the face?”

“To be honest, People’s Daily spoke up too late. By the time they endorsed it, all the pork had been divided. We can’t even grab a scrap.”

“…So why are we even watching the ceremony?”

“…To look at handsome people? Director Shi looks great in a suit.”

“Finally someone said it! Anyone recognize what brand he’s wearing? I want to buy a set for my boyfriend!”

“Looks like custom. Maybe not available.”

Seeing the chat go off-topic, Luo Bao closed it.

But when he looked back at the screen, the ceremony had already reached the Best Director announcement. The camera swept across the nominees before stopping on the Dawn Breaks director.

The director of Dawn Breaks looked calm, even with a hint of easy confidence.

Sigh. So depressing. It was obviously going to be him.

Luo Bao propped his chin, bored out of his mind…

“Best Director goes to… Li Jianye and Shi Jing!”

Luo Bao froze for several seconds.

What?

They won?

Did he mishear?

The giant screen showed Shi Jing and Li Jianye—both equally shocked.

Le Jing was stunned.

He hadn’t expected they would win Best Director! Which also meant they definitely wouldn’t get Best Drama.

No time to think—they went onstage together and accepted the crystal-red peony trophy.

They adjusted their previously prepared speech and took turns speaking.

After Li Jianye, Le Jing took the mic:

“I can guess what everyone in the audience is thinking—‘Come on, this kid is only 24. Did the host read the wrong name?’”

Laughter rippled through the hall.

The host even pointed the nomination card toward the camera, showing their names clearly.

She shrugged dramatically. “Watch your mouth, young man. I may be old, but I’m not blind yet.”

Le Jing laughed, then said seriously: “When I step offstage, I’ll definitely look it up to see if I’m the youngest Best Director in Red Peony history.”

“No need!” the host shouted. “You are!”

Le Jing’s smile bloomed bright as the sky. “The judges have shown me such kindness. I can only repay it by…”

He lifted the trophy, eyes gleaming with youthful energy. “By creating even more outstanding work for the audience. The Red Peony Award is not my endpoint. The road ahead is long—between light and shadow, I will always keep moving forward.”

Thunderous applause followed.

Backstage, the crew surrounded him with cheers.

“God, Brother Jing, you were amazing up there!” Zhang Ting flushed with excitement.

“You’re officially the youngest Best Director now!”

Huang Tingting added, “This is what real glory looks like!”

Even those who didn’t win were overjoyed.

The rest of the ceremony, the crew buzzed nonstop.

The fan group chat went wild:

[I’m So Sleepy]: HOLY SHT HOLY SHT HOLY SH*T!!!

[Snacks Arrive Tomorrow]: The Red Peony Awards were finally FAIR for once!

[Chicken Feet]: I want to run three laps around the building right now!!!

[Not Radish But Luo Bao]: Brother Jing is so cool! His speech was amazing!! Even as a straight man I’m swooning! His future is limitless!!

[Black Cat Knight]: Do you think Best Drama might also go to Republic-Era Literary Notes?

[Daybreak]: Probably not. Best Director was already a surprise. Best Drama should go to Dawn Breaks. It’s “politically correct” with its Dark Three Hundred Years theme. Judges love that stuff.

Everyone believed their crew couldn’t possibly win again.

Until—

“Best Television Drama goes to—Republic-Era Literary Notes!”

The audience erupted in chaos.

Viewership spiked instantly by 1%—an astronomical number.

The shocked faces captured on camera included the Dawn Breaks director’s (the ugliest of them all), and even the leads Mo Ran and Liu Yi looked visibly stiff.

In the explosive cheers, the Republic-era crew surged onto the stage—nearly filling it.

The trophy passed from hand to hand before ending up again with Le Jing and Li Jianye. The two directors exchanged a smile and raised the trophy together.

That moment was captured by countless cameras and would dominate the next day’s headlines.

The next day, the data company released detailed viewership curves.

The highest viewership was not when Dawn Breaks walked the red carpet, nor when they took Best Actor and Actress—

But when Republic-Era Literary Notes won Best Television Drama.

Peak concurrent viewers: 60 million.

When a director makes a good show, the audience sees it.

Silent audiences vote with their feet.