Chapter 181 The Look in Lu Xu’s Eyes

Chapter 181: Lu Xu's Gaze

Summer flew by. Lu Xu had spent nearly half a year filming with the *Night Sky Observations* crew, making this his longest stint with any production. When he first began portraying Wei Qingfang, he'd struggled to grasp the character, but now, he'd grown fully accustomed to a life accompanied by this role.

The "human coffin" revealed demons and gods, drawing both Wei Qingfang and Zhang Bannu into its mystery. As they explored and uncovered truths, the two ultimately discovered that this world where humans, demons, and gods coexisted hid darkness beneath.

Typically, a fantasy story must have a big bad, but the *Night Sky Observations* script skipped the cliché of a righteous leader secretly being the villain. Instead, it presented an inescapable trap.

Why was it that when the realms of humans, demons, and gods first separated, all beings could still coexist as equals, yet now, they found themselves locked in a life-or-death struggle?

It was simply that keeping balance grew harder.

Both the demon and god factions had attempted solutions to the dilemma, but none had succeeded. The human realm, caught between them, became their tug-of-war zone.

This was also why there was a "human coffin" but no "god coffin" or "demon coffin."

As *Night Sky Observations* progressed, more characters became involved, slowing down the filming process. Actors came and went, with only Lu Xu and Li Yan remaining until the very end.

The two had several spell battles in the film, though none involved brutal physical combat. Instead, they clashed through magical duels, making the filming less exhausting. Still, they spent some time training with the fight choreographer to ensure their movements looked convincing.

By the script's conclusion, both Wei Qingfang and Zhang Bannu had made their choices. The former continued to wander the human world, uncovering secrets related to gods and demons, acting as the eyes that patrolled the mortal realm. Meanwhile, Zhang Bannu transformed into a Kunpeng, filling in what the human world lacked. Both understood their duties, and though reluctant, they had long since made their decisions.

Before Zhang Bannu's transformation, Wei Qingfang gazed at him steadily. Throughout their journey, the two had faced countless dangers, always managing to escape unscathed. Yet the final trial was not one they could easily overcome—it demanded sacrifice.

Neither Wei Qingfang nor Zhang Bannu were the type to openly express emotions. But in this moment, as Zhang Bannu resolved to give up his life, Wei Qingfang could only utter a quiet, "Safe travels."

For this scene, the whole crew watched Lu Xu.

In the long filming process of *Night Sky Observations*, this was one of the scenes that required serious acting chops. After months of shooting, everyone knew that for Lu Xu, this moment was not difficult.

Yet when their focus settled on Wei Qingfang's gaze toward Zhang Bannu, the onlookers were left speechless.

Gong Lei turned to Yue Chen. "You know, there’s a compilation of Lu Xu’s expressive gaze work online. If you watch it, you’ll understand just how powerful his expressions are."

Before working with Lu Xu, Gong Lei had only heard of him. He had seen *Deception* and *Reversal City*—he liked the narrative style of the former and studied the script of the latter to learn from the celebrated director. Naturally, he had noticed Lu Xu’s performances, but at the time, the *Night Sky Observations* crew hadn’t yet confirmed Lu Xu’s involvement, so Gong Lei had only paid casual attention.

Now that they were collaborating, Gong Lei went out of his way to research Lu Xu and stumbled upon this very compilation of his expressive gaze work.

In idol dramas, Lu Xu could convey love laced with hopelessness. In *The Son of Heaven*, the prince’s struggles and dignity were all reflected in his gaze. What truly stunned Gong Lei, however, were Yu Yi’s withered appearance and Huang Luning’s eyes like winter sunlight.

Here, on the set of *Night Sky Observations*, Gong Lei witnessed firsthand a gaze from Lu Xu that was entirely different from anything before.

Wei Qingfang was a reserved man, often so calm that he seemed emotionless, rarely letting his feelings show.

In fact, Wei Qingfang was a detached person.

Yet now, as he looked at Zhang Bannu, there was no reluctance, no sorrow—he did not shed tears either.

To describe it precisely, Wei Qingfang’s gaze at this moment was that of someone looking at a martyr choosing a suicidal path.

He knew Zhang Bannu had chosen this path, yet he also understood his friend’s resolve. All he, as a confidant, could do was send him off with dignity.

He respected his choice and comprehended his sacrifice.

From Lu Xu’s portrayal of Wei Qingfang, Gong Lei sensed a quiet gravity. Though Lu Xu was not fierce, nor some fanatic, the emotions contained in his eyes were something Zhang Bannu surely understood.

Zhang Bannu chose to sacrifice himself, while Wei Qingfang remained alive. This was not a matter of one being righteous and the other cowardly—it was simply that both had roles to play in this world.

Zhang Bannu understood Wei Qingfang just as well.

Compared to Wei Qingfang, his expression was rather relaxed, as if what he was about to do was just a trivial matter. Still, he didn’t forget to remind Wei Qingfang, "You’ll have to pick the persimmons on the back mountain yourself from now on."

Wei Qingfang didn’t respond, only watching him quietly.

His silence left Zhang Bannu at a loss for words, allowing the moment to be filled with quiet.

Gong Lei observed the scene in silence.

His script was flat, but Lu Xu and Li Yan brought it to life through their performances. The emotions between the two didn’t need elaboration—any viewer would instantly grasp them.

Lu Xu and Li Yan not only matched each other’s acting but also enriched the entire scene in their exchanges. Some scenes had sparse dialogue and understated effects, and impatient audience members might have found them dull. But whenever Lu Xu and Li Yan shared the screen, even if they were just chatting, the audience remained captivated.

In short, the further *Night Sky Observations* progressed in filming, the more the director and screenwriter felt grateful for casting Lu Xu and Li Yan as the leads.

One could say the production came together thanks to them, and throughout shooting, they delivered flawless performances.

Beyond speeding up the filming process, their easy chemistry set the tone for a positive set. Whether lead or supporting actors, everyone could be described as diligent and dedicated.

Yue Chen and Gong Lei rarely commented openly on an actor’s strengths or flaws. Both were industry veterans, though they lacked the clout to openly critique others. Still, they had their own standards and understood actors’ abilities thoroughly.

If they had Mu Lang’s status, they could afford to offend anyone.

Recently, Yue Chen and Gong Lei had been following Liu Rennong’s controversies. Their first reaction wasn’t glee but sorrow.

Liu Rennong was one of the industry’s most renowned directors—how far he'd fallen.

This time, because their collaboration with Lu Xu had gone so smoothly, Yue Chen privately reminded him during their chats to watch his back if Liu struck back.

The exposé on Liu Rennong had surfaced before Lu Xu joined *Night Sky Observations*, though the contract had already been finalized. While media and marketers dug into Liu Rennong’s scandals, they overlooked the fact that Yue Chen was also part of the Victims of Screen-Time Theft.

One of his films had released alongside *Silent Kill*.

Normally, when an arthouse film and a commercial blockbuster open simultaneously, theaters favor the latter for its stronger box office potential. But Yue Chen got stuck going up against *Silent Kill*.

Just thinking about *Silent Kill*’s weird box office patterns made Yue Chen’s head throb. Of course, his film was no match for *Fearless Life* and underperformed.

But Yue Chen didn’t believe the blame lay entirely with his film’s quality.

Was *Silent Kill* really that good?

*Silent Kill* was the one monopolizing screens, *Silent Kill* was the one cheating—just because he lost to a cheater, did that mean he deserved it?

Yue Chen remembered some idiot who justified domestic violence with the line, "Well, why aren’t you XXX?"

XXX was a certain women’s world boxing champion.

During *Silent Kill*’s run, Yue Chen had sensed something was off, though he didn’t know the details at the time. Only much later did he learn everything was tied to Liu Rennong.

Lu Xu had crossed Liu Rennong more than once, and while Liu Rennong appeared unassuming, Yue Chen knew what Liu was capable of. He could only advise Lu Xu to keep his guard up.

Lu Xu wasn’t a newcomer, after all—he likely knew how to handle it.

...

Lu Xu and Li Yan completed all their shots before the year’s end.

In truth, after filming their final scene, their remaining work was light—mostly reshoots and script tweaks. They stayed on set for a few more months to complete everything, closing out Lu Xu's time with *Night Sky Observations*.

He couldn’t help but reflect—it had been one hell of a shoot.

However, as time went on, Lu Xu increasingly felt that he was part of an amazing crew making something special.

*Night Sky Observations* might not become a game-changing movie, but Lu Xu believed that if he were part of the audience, he would certainly look forward to a fantasy movie with great effects crafted with care by the director and screenwriter, where every dollar was well-spent.

He always held the conviction that as long as the crew gave it their all, even the most obscure, low-budget movie could captivate a wide audience.

After Lu Xu and Li Yan left the crew, Yue Chen and Gong Lei continued their dedication. *Night Sky Observations* had an unusually long shoot, and it was easy to imagine that post-production would take even longer—this was the challenge Yue Chen now faced. Lu Xu sympathized with the director, but he also understood that Yue Chen must be loving every minute of it.

During one crew gathering, Yue Chen mentioned that big fantasy movies were getting harder to make, and he had to cherish every opportunity, especially since securing funding nowadays was incredibly difficult.

He missed the days when investors were eager to back projects without hesitation. Now, investors would simply point to some film that grossed over 4 billion yuan and demand they make one just as profitable—all while claiming it was "not asking for much" and questioning, "How come XX could do it?"

Yue Chen: "..."

He didn’t even know how to respond.

So why not just hire XXX instead?

If he could guarantee his film would earn 4 billion yuan, he wouldn’t need investors—he’d bankrupt himself, borrow from every relative under the sun, and pay them back a billion later.

It was laughably ridiculous, yet unfortunately, this was the reality he faced as a director.