Although the trending topics online remained active for days, the training schedule at the Beijiao Film and Television Base didn't decrease because of it.
By the time his archery had improved from completely missing the target to consistently landing seven or eight out of ten arrows, the training camp had reached its final weekend. That was when Jiang Yue received a call from Xu Pingqiu.
On the other end of the line, Xu Pingqiu's surroundings were a bit noisy, sounding as if he had slipped out midway through some banquet.
“Xiao Jiang, how have things been going lately?”
Xu Pingqiu's tone carried an unmistakable air of smug satisfaction.
The data for 《The Hidden Sentry》 had continued to soar after its finale, and Penguin Video had already sent him two massive cash bonuses.
“Pretty good. I've taken on a new project. I'm sparring with the martial arts director every day. It turns out to be Brother Hong, though my muscles are incredibly sore from all the daily training.”
Jiang Yue stood out on the corridor of the training hall to catch some fresh air, holding his phone.
Xu Pingqiu naturally knew who Jiang Yue was talking about and guessed that the new project was likely a historical drama. “Old Hong is indeed very serious about his work. But first, let's talk business. A couple of days ago, I had a private chat with Old Shen and the producer.”
Old Shen was Shen Donglou, the presenter of 《The Hidden Sentry》, who had made the final call to cast Jiang Yue as the male lead.
Xu Pingqiu paused for a moment before continuing, “《The Hidden Sentry》 will definitely be submitted for next year's Golden Orchid Award. I've also checked in with the team behind 《The Grand Game》, and they have the same intention.”
Hearing this, Jiang Yue fell into deep thought.
The Golden Orchid Award.
It was one of the most prestigious professional awards in the domestic television industry. Winning one was practically equivalent to the industry itself officially stamping its seal of approval on an actor.
“You know the rules for the Golden Orchid Award—it runs on a rolling twelve-month cycle. Dramas broadcast from April of this year to the end of March next year are all eligible for submission.”
Xu Pingqiu calculated the dates. “Submissions go in around February or March, nominations are announced in May, and the awards ceremony is in June.”
Xu Pingqiu smacked his lips. “Over at 《The Grand Game》's side, Chu Yan has a solid shot at Best Supporting Actor. As for 《The Hidden Sentry》, it depends on how the platform and the presenter decide to submit it in the end. Whether it's Best Actor or Best Supporting Actor, the chances of a nomination are very high. With a bit of luck, maybe even...”
He didn't finish the sentence, but his meaning was already abundantly clear.
Whether it was Chu Yan in 《The Grand Game》 or Zhou Jinnan in 《The Hidden Sentry》, Jiang Yue's performances had been far too brilliant to ignore.
“I appreciate the kind words.”
Jiang Yue's tone was calm. He didn't lose his composure over this potential pie in the sky.
When it came to awards, the judges' criteria could change by the day. Before actually holding it in your hands, there was no point in overthinking it.
“Furthermore,” Xu Pingqiu cleared his throat, “didn't I say at the premiere that whether we do a second season depends on the results? Well, the results are right here.”
“The platform is already rushing me. If we can actually win an award next year, this project will instantly secure top-tier funding. Xiao Jiang, if the script gets written, will you still play Zhou Jinnan?”
This was the real purpose behind Xu Pingqiu's call today.
Jiang Yue leaned against the railing, gazing at the mock-ancient buildings in the distance within the film and television base. He remained silent for a moment.
“Director Xu, as long as the script is good, I will definitely take it.”
Jiang Yue gave a definitive answer, but then changed his tone. “However, you also know that since 《The Hidden Sentry》 is a hit, everyone's market value has changed. Teacher Chen, Brother Han, and me. If we want to bring back the original cast, the issues with investment and scheduling will probably be very difficult to resolve.”
Xu Pingqiu sighed over the phone, clearly understanding this reality.
“You're right. This can't be rushed. Even if the platform has the money, coordinating everyone's schedules will be tough. Let's focus on next year's Golden Orchid Award first. Once we win an award, everything will be much easier to negotiate.”
Hanging up the phone, Jiang Yue shook his wrists and turned to walk back into the training hall.
The Golden Orchid Award was a passport to top-tier resources, but now was not the time to think about that.
《The Pivot Bone》 was about to start filming.
A few days later, at the Beijiao Film and Television Base, the commencement ceremony for 《The Pivot Bone》 officially began.
An incense burner was placed right in the center, and He Chuan led the main cast and crew to offer incense.
Camera flashes clicked continuously. This was no amateur, slapdash production; quite a few mainstream media outlets had shown up for the commencement ceremony.
Jiang Yue stood beside He Chuan, wearing a black windbreaker, his hair simply bound back with a headband.
A month of high-intensity training had made his aura even colder, more restrained, and deep, with a faint trace of decisive sharpness lingering between his brows.
“Jiang Yue! Look over here!”
“Teacher Jiang! Smile for us!”
The sound of shutters in the media area merged into a continuous drone.
Jiang Yue was simply too hot right now.
《The Hidden Sentry》 had only recently concluded, and the residual hype for Zhou Jinnan was still dominating the trending lists of various platforms.
As a result, the moment he joined the cast, he became a prime target for observation.
Once the commencement ceremony concluded, the crew began clearing the area, preparing for the first day of shooting.
Jiang Yue walked over to the resting area. Just as he was about to change into his costume, his peripheral vision caught a sudden glint of light reflecting from a dark object nestled between the branches of a large tree on a distant hillside.
He paused in his movements, narrowing his eyes to get a closer look.
It was a telephoto lens hidden behind dense foliage, with a figure clad in camouflage lying flat right next to it.
Jiang Yue was the very first time he had encountered a proxy photographer face-to-face on set.
When he was filming 《The Grand Game》 and 《Prisoner's Game in the Mirror》, either the crew was too poor or he was too obscure for anyone to bother coming all this way, let alone a professional-grade proxy photographer.
Still, this guy was hidden incredibly well.
His camouflage skills were so impressive that even a sniper would probably fall silent in admiration.
“What are you looking at?”
Jiang Kevin looked in the direction of his gaze, handing him a bottle of water as he did.
Jiang Yue pointed toward the distant hillside. “Do you think that guy's back is sore after lying there all morning?”
Jiang Kevin didn't realize what it was at first. He squinted for a long while. “Where? That thing in the tree? I thought it was a bird's nest.”
The next second, he caught the reflection from the lens, and his entire body nearly jumped in place.
“Wait, seriously, Brother? Your first reaction upon spotting a proxy photographer is to worry if his back is sore?”
Jiang Kevin stuffed the water bottle back into Jiang Yue's arms, turned around, and shouted, “Stage manager! Stage manager! There's a proxy photographer on the hillside in Zone C! That thing in the tree isn't a bird's nest—it's a bazooka lens!”
The stage manager immediately picked up his walkie-talkie and instructed the crew staff, “Take a few people to clear him out. Stay safe and don't get too aggressive. Just coax him down!”
Jiang Kevin continued to mutter on the side, “This is way too intense. Climbing trees on the very first day of shooting? If he falls, will tomorrow's trending topics read: '《The Pivot Bone》 Set Shocked by Appearance of Arboreal Proxy Photographer'?”
Jiang Yue was noncommittal. “He's got a strong professional spirit, just the wrong career path.”
He Chuan walked over upon hearing the commotion, his brow furrowed. “These proxy photographers are getting more and more reckless nowadays. Jiang Yue, now that you're famous, you'll be seeing a lot more of this. Don't get into conflicts with them. Let the crew handle it.”
Jiang Yue smiled. “Don't worry, Director He. I don't want to see 'Jiang Yue Beats Up Proxy Photographer on Set' on the trending topics either.”
Jiang Kevin chimed in quickly, “Nor do we want to see 'Jiang Yue's Agent Trips Over Tree Branch While Chasing Proxy Photographer'.”
Jiang Yue glanced at him, asking with amusement, “Is that really how you see your role?”
Jiang Kevin choked on his words and silently took half a step toward the stage manager.
Ten minutes later, two burly stage managers "escorted" the proxy photographer down from the hillside.
The captured proxy photographer, named Ah Zhe, was swearing under his breath.
He had squatted there for three hours today carrying his "bazooka lens," and his legs were nearly numb. But when he thought of the images he had just captured in his lens, he felt it was somewhat worth it.
He wasn't that he had never shot celebrities before, but the impact of seeing Jiang Yue in person was simply too powerful.
Even through the telephoto lens, that face was exceptionally striking—his bone structure was well-defined, his features clean, without a single bad angle to be found.
He stood tall and straight with a cold, reserved aura. Standing there, he was like a sheathed saber—unobtrusive, yet somehow impossible to look away from.
As Ah Zhe was nudged along by the stage managers, he couldn't help but mutter to himself: So this guy actually doesn't photograph well!
He already looked incredibly handsome on television, but the camera couldn't fully capture his actual bone structure and presence.
Especially the sense of story in his eyes; when he looked over, his gaze was both focused and indifferent. It made him feel that while this guy was a bit aloof, he was indeed incredibly handsome.
“Delete the set footage, register his information, and send him out once he signs the pledge.”
After confirming that the photographer had completely deleted all photos involving the crew, the stage manager snapped the lens cap back on and handed the camera to a colleague to hold.
As Ah Zhe was led away, he unwillingly glanced back toward the set. Jiang Yue had already changed into his costume and was currently talking to the martial arts director, Old Hong.
He smacked his lips. Today's trip had been in vain, but it didn't feel entirely like a waste.
Rate on N.U.
