HEIFEIGU -Chapter 160 The End

When the Shan Hai Wu Ming crew appeared on the red carpet, fans stopped worrying about awards.

That level of looks and atmosphere? First, admire them.

Meng Zezhou originally walked in the same row as Qian Shuyun and Xie Jixing.

But no matter how he walked, he felt too bright and out of place.

He quietly slowed down, fell behind, and obediently helped Jiang Yueli lift her dress.

Phew, much better.

Qian Shuyun and Xie Jixing had different styles, yet walking side by side, they looked remarkably harmonious.

Two distinct auras blending perfectly, forming a unique field others couldn’t penetrate.

The awards ceremony immediately started with two very exciting awards: Best Supporting Actress and Best Supporting Actor.

The livestream was flooded with comments.

Everyone was spamming the names of the actors they supported.

Before the ceremony, actors said that even being nominated was an honor.

But when it was time to announce winners, nerves kicked in.

Jiang Yueli kept fidgeting with her emerald ring. Even though she had won Best Actress several times before, this was her first Golden Film Award nomination.

She couldn’t stay calm.

The Best Supporting Actress award went to a middle-aged actress playing a mother in Her Bones.

Jiang Yueli lost gracefully, actually breathing a sigh of relief, and turned to watch Meng Zezhou fumble.

Compared to her, Meng Zezhou was far too inexperienced.

When his nomination was announced, he couldn’t even maintain his expression—it froze.

He wanted to hold a smile, but the corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.

Clenching his knees tightly, Meng Zezhou kept giving himself mental affirmations.

Relax. Stay calm. This is the Golden Film Awards, live-streamed globally.

This is the Golden Film Awards! Who knows when there will be another nomination.

He just couldn’t relax—he really, really wanted to win!

As the presenter teasingly paused, prolonging the suspense, the camera zoomed in on Meng Zezhou’s face. His lips moved slightly, almost whispering.

The live bullet comments were quick to translate.

【Hahaha, Meng Meng is too cute! He’s silently chanting: ‘Meng Zezhou, Meng Zezhou…’】

【Give it to him! He really wants it so badly.】

【Who wouldn’t want a Golden Film Award?】

But the Best Supporting Actor award went to the Fleet Commander in Return to the Mother Planet.

A solo spaceship pilot on a mission, ultimately resting forever in space—definitely a highlight of the year.

Meng Zezhou’s composure faltered slightly, his little dog face drooping.

A teacher came up and gave him a firm hug: “Kid, you’re still young, with a bright future ahead. Keep going.”

That immediately cheered Meng Zezhou up—there would be a next time!

【I’m getting more worried—he didn’t win the first two awards.】

【Feels like he’s just here to run alongside the winner. Being nominated twice for Best Actor at once seems unreliable.】

【Come on, please! Give Xiao Shan Hai at least one award!】

But clearly, the fans’ wishes didn’t come true. The following awards for Best Original Screenplay and Best Original Music also went to others.

By the halfway point of the ceremony, Shan Hai Wu Ming—nominated for eight awards—hadn’t won a single one.

Not only were the fans worried, even Xie Jixing felt a bit disappointed.

During a commercial break, he leaned over and whispered into Qian Shuyun’s ear, “We’re not really going to leave without winning anything, are we?”

He personally didn’t mind, but he wanted Qian Shuyun to win.

Since Qian Shuyun’s return, most attention had focused on variety shows and his relationship with him—not on any substantial film work.

He wanted Qian Shuyun back in the position he deserved.

He wanted to see Qian Shuyun hold the Best Actor trophy with his own eyes.

“If we don’t win, there’s always next time,” Qian Shuyun said, surprisingly calm. “Anyway, the purpose of coming here has already been achieved.”

What purpose?

How would I know?

Xie Jixing tilted his head to look at him.

Qian Shuyun raised his left hand, the small blue diamond on his ring sparkling. “Show this.”

Although Xie Jixing knew it was meant to reassure him, he couldn’t help rolling his eyes at this abstract gesture.

The director’s voice came over the venue’s speakers, announcing the second half of the awards.

Xie Jixing rubbed the coins in his pocket.

They were the ones he’d swapped at the Wishing Pool before; he hadn’t thrown them in.

Now he wanted to use these three coins to make a wish—he hoped Qian Shuyun would win.

The venue lights went out completely, and the stage screen lit up—though the image was in black and white.

Seeing Yin Wenshan on the screen, Qian Shuyun and Xie Jixing exchanged surprised looks.

Then the host’s voice rang out.

“This year’s Lifetime Achievement Award goes to an actor previously unknown to most.”

“He is a hidden gem in the history of our cinema, once buried under layers of dust, yet last year, he shone brilliantly once more.”

“He is—Yin Wenshan.”

Xie Jixing abruptly turned his head to the empty seats for family tickets.

There sat Yin Wenshan.

Today, he wore a vintage suit that Qian Shuyun had helped Old Qian custom-make for him.

He still carried the flamboyant, gentlemanly air of the old era—dashing yet elegant.

At this moment, he was clapping along with the audience.

“Who from the Shan Hai Wu Ming crew will come up to accept the award for Yin Wenshan?” the host asked with a smile.

Everyone expected Qian Shuyun, who played Fan Qingshan, to go up—but unexpectedly, Xie Jixing, who played Zhang Xianhai, stepped forward.

Xie Jixing led the “floating” Yin Wenshan on stage to accept the Lifetime Achievement Award.

“What would Teacher Yin say to everyone if he were here today?”

Xie Jixing looked at Yin Wenshan, studying the trophy, and answered the host, “I’ll ask him.”

Everyone thought he was joking to lighten the mood; the audience laughed warmly, and even the host teased along.

But a moment later, Xie Jixing spoke seriously:

“Teacher Yin says that film is a dream-weaving industry.”

“Every film he made was once the most beautiful dream he had hoped for.”

“In his films, we see a thriving nation, a booming industry, and a happy, healthy life for the people.”

“He feels grateful and fortunate that these dreams he created have now come true.”

After he spoke, the venue fell silent, then erupted into intense applause.

【Ahhhh, Goose is amazing! This acceptance speech is fantastic!】

【I was clapping along in front of the screen.】

【I really hope Teacher Yin Wenshan truly receives this award.】

【Do we have to be so dramatic?】

【Sigh, now that he’s received the Lifetime Achievement Award, the rest of the awards seem even less likely.】

As he stepped down, it appeared Xie Jixing was holding the trophy—but he was only lightly supporting it.

The one truly holding the trophy was Yin Wenshan’s ghostly presence.

The venue’s heater was on, making it warm, but Yin Wenshan’s aura was chilling. Soon, tiny droplets formed at the base of the trophy.

But no one noticed.

The next award, the prestigious Best Director, was about to be announced.

The camera split into five screens, one showing Qian Shuyun, directing for the first time this year.

The entire Shan Hai Wu Ming crew clutched their fists, holding their breath.

But the result disappointed them.

This year’s Best Director went to the Korean director of Empty Ceiling.

Narratively, Empty Ceiling wove six separate storylines into a cohesive whole—quite a masterful storytelling technique.

Qian Shuyun accepted it gracefully; he still had much to learn as a director.

【I’m bawling, looks like Xiao Shan Hai is really just here to run alongside the winner.】

【The Golden Film Awards have a cruel sense of humor—nominating the little couple at the same time.】

【I want to see if Qian Shuyun actually wins Best Actor. I wonder if Xie Jixing will stop him from going to bed tonight.】

【It’s coming, it’s coming—I’m so nervous!】

When the Best Actor award was finally about to be announced, the bullet comments quieted.

In the split-screen, everyone stared at the camera in front of them.

Only Xie Jixing smiled at the camera, waved, and then turned to Qian Shuyun beside him.

He reached out and gently held Qian Shuyun’s hand.

Qian Shuyun’s palm was slightly damp, but his fingertips were cool.

He wasn’t as calm as he appeared.

Shan Hai Wu Ming was a labor of love; he wanted this award more than anyone.

But Xie Jixing was also nominated; Qian Shuyun knew the chance of both of them winning was slim.

So he suppressed his desire, keeping it to himself.

But at the moment Xie Jixing’s hand held his, he suddenly felt the urge to speak.

Leaning slightly closer, he whispered, “Xingxing, do you think it’s us?”

Xie Jixing gently scratched his palm with his fingertips, smiling: “It’ll definitely be you.”

As soon as he said this, the presenter announced the crucial line:

“This year’s Golden Film Award for Best Actor goes to… in Shan Hai Wu Ming…”

Xie Jixing’s hand clenched tightly.

“…Qian Shuyun, for his role as Fan Qingshan.”

“Congratulations!”

Hearing his name, Qian Shuyun was momentarily stunned.

“It’s really me!”

Xie Jixing’s joyful cheer brought him back to reality.

He felt himself being pulled into a warm embrace.

In that embrace, every sense of Qian Shuyun was completely freed.

Only then did he notice his body trembling with excitement.

“Go accept it!” Xie Jixing pushed him forward.

He still clung a little too long.

Qian Shuyun adjusted his tie, glanced once at Yin Wenshan’s seat with a smile, and walked up to the stage.

Raising the trophy with his left hand, the small blue diamond on his ring sparkled brilliantly under the stage lights, extremely prominent.

His voice slightly trembled as he held the trophy up to the camera: “Hello everyone, I’m back!”

【I cried! He really won!】

【Old fans are in tears. We may not make waves on the internet, but the box office has silently supported us. Shan Hai Wu Ming is excellent—the award is well deserved.】

【Well deserved!】

【Looks like Xie Jixing is even happier than him.】

【Indeed, Xingxing looks so happy. Qian also knows what he’s doing, holding the trophy with his left hand (lol).】

【Am I the only one noticing that diamond? Why is it so sparkly?】

“First, I want to thank the organizing committee for this award. It means a lot to me.”

“Thanks to every member of the Shan Hai Wu Ming crew—thank you all for your hard work.”

“Also, I want to thank my beloved…” Qian Shuyun didn’t forget to subtly show off his ring again.

The organizers slyly cut the camera to Xie Jixing in an instant.

Teacher Xie smiled warmly and applauded, and there was a close-up of the matching ring on his left hand as well.

The audience at the venue erupted into a wave of good-natured laughter because of Qian Shuyun’s words.

Meng Zezhou even stood up and shouted a couple of times, “Stop showing off!”

Once the laughter subsided, Qian Shuyun continued very seriously, “I really do thank him.”

“Thank him for bringing me back to this stage.”

Everyone around him understood the meaning behind this sentence.

Meng Zezhou, who had been teasing moments ago, felt his eyes turn slightly red upon hearing this.

Qian Shuyun looked at the trophy in his hand, then glanced at the empty seats in the back row.

“Finally, I want to thank one more person.”

“Although our first encounter brought pain and darkness…”

“I have never regretted meeting you. If it weren’t for meeting you, I wouldn’t have met Fan Qingshan, nor experienced this growth.”

“Yin Wenshan, thank you.”

The live cameras hesitated for a moment before panning to where Qian Shuyun was looking, showing only two empty seats.

Out of sight, Yin Wenshan in the audience and Fan Qingshan on stage were exchanging a distant gaze.

The last major award, Best Feature Film, ended up being a rare tie.

The judges had a hard time choosing between Empty Ceiling and Shan Hai Wu Ming.

In the end, both films won the award.

On stage, the casts and crews of both films stood shoulder to shoulder.

Qian Shuyun and Xie Jixing were separated by one empty seat.

If you looked closely, the Lifetime Achievement Award trophy was only lightly placed in Xie Jixing’s hand.

It was actually being held by Teacher Yin himself.

Golden ribbons fluttered down from above as the casts and crews of both films posed for a group photo.

Yue Qinyao, overwhelmed with excitement, didn’t know what to do, so she picked up the ribbons that had fallen to the ground with her black hair and tossed them back into the air.

Although she hadn’t won an award, she felt fully involved as a contributing member of the celebratory atmosphere.

Everyone was busy taking photos and didn’t notice this detail, but a long-focus camera had been capturing the wide shot the whole time.

The Shan Hai Wu Ming crew had ribbons continuously fluttering down, while over at Empty Ceiling, nothing was happening—an extremely strange sight.

【???】

Viewers watching the livestream were puzzled.

【So does the Shan Hai Wu Ming crew have a circulating fan?】

【But Jiang Yueli’s tulle skirt didn’t move at all!】

【Golden Shadow Awards ghost story?】

【(Laughing and crying) With Xie Jixing there, it actually makes sense.】

After the Golden Shadow Awards ceremony, Tingyun Entertainment quickly became the hottest film production company in the domestic entertainment industry.

Qian Shuyun not only returned to his original position but even rose in status.

The Yin Wenshan Memorial Hall and Yin Wenshan Film Hall both opened simultaneously, entirely for public benefit; visitors could enter and watch films for free with advance reservations.

However, the other male lead, Xie Jixing, disappeared after finishing filming.

The Golden Shadow Awards ceremony became the subject of endless speculation online.

Not only did people notice the circulating ribbons, but also the droplets of water on the trophies.

Combined with Xie Jixing’s line when accepting the Lifetime Achievement Award, “Let me ask him,” and Qian Shuyun’s line when receiving Best Actor, looking at the empty seat and saying, “Yin Wenshan, thank you,” there was new material for urban legends.

The original poster probably posted too much supernatural content, was haunted by nightmares, and nearly became part of the urban legends themselves.

Helpless, they went to Shancai Sect and afterwards refused to reveal anything that happened there.

All they would say was that Xie Jixing’s service was excellent, albeit expensive.

His words were so persuasive that countless people could practically break down the gates of Shancai Sect every day.

Many came seeking customized religious services, and Xie Jixing was busier than ever.

For now, he wouldn’t return to the domestic entertainment industry.

Even though he wasn’t around, his legends constantly trended online.

#MissXieJixingSoMuch!# was trending, updated daily like a to-do list.

【Star, when exactly are you coming back to domestic entertainment?】

【The haters are starting trouble again, cursing others, Photoshopping memorial pictures.】

【Marketers are exploiting good actors to hype CPs again.】

【Stalkers are making a comeback, chasing and peeping again.】

【That rude male star is spreading rumors about my sister Huang Yao.】

【Capital forced a female actor to drink, nearly pushed her to jump off a building.】

The audience called: “Xie Jixing, hurry back and straighten out the entertainment industry!”

~The End~