Chapter 232: 232 Follow-up

Chapter 232: The Aftermath

On the set of *Reign Supreme*, Lu Xu clearly had the most scenes, but when examining the actual shooting duration, his time was only half of that in the *Dough Figurine* crew.

He had many dialogue-heavy scenes but fewer solo ones. The director not only showcased the perspective of the character Qi Yi but also highlighted the viewpoints of other actors.

Starting from the Empress Dowager’s "dream revelation," as the mysteries were gradually unraveled, the atmosphere of *Reign Supreme* shifted from eerie to unflinchingly stark.

If Lu Xu were to describe it, he thoroughly enjoyed playing in *Reign Supreme*.

His previous film, *Number A77*, was widely recognized as a high-octane thrill ride, though the protagonist still endured a tragic journey. Qi Yi, however, was different—from the very first page of the script, he was the unchallenged sovereign, and everyone had to bow to his will.

Qi Yi never experienced a moment of frustration. He was not only the most powerful in status but also possessed the political cunning to see through everything. Those who underestimated him paid the ultimate price.

Zheng Xiao’s remark about the crew avoiding Lu Xu wasn’t far from the truth.

It was because Lu Xu’s portrayal of Qi Yi was too convincing. No matter how friendly he behaved off-camera, the moment he stepped into character, he radiated an oppressive aura.

The *Reign Supreme* crew was full of talented actors, and good actors often find it hard to detach themselves from their roles. After enduring Lu Xu’s tyrannical presence on set—whether trembling under his intimidation or facing his threats—it was no surprise that no one could bring themselves to smile at him once the cameras stopped rolling.

Lu Xu: "..."

In short, it usually took until the next day for everyone to slowly regain their composure. But then, a new day of filming would begin, and the cycle of torment would repeat.

At least Zheng Xiao’s words didn’t bother Lu Xu: "It’s Qi Yi they hate, not me."

Though Qi Yi wasn’t a morally upright character, during filming, Lu Xu fully channeled the emperor’s mentality and ran with it. Coupled with the strong performances of his co-stars, he found the experience exhilarating.

The *Reign Supreme* script, while starting with seemingly minor events, laid bare the brutal reality of "reigning supreme." When Chang Aiwei conceived this script, he never intended to make it a warm and fuzzy crowd-pleaser.

Qi Yi was also a rare type of role in Lu Xu’s acting career.

In *The Son of Heaven*, the Prime Minister was a predator devoured by power. In Lu Xu’s eyes, Qi Yi in *Reign Supreme* was the same. The Prime Minister was a high-ranking official—no matter how power-hungry he was, there was still an emperor above him, and his power had limits. Other court officials would oppose him. But Qi Yi’s authority was absolute.

As the Son of Heaven, he believed he controlled everything. He was more arrogant, more despotic.

He thought he possessed power, but in reality, power consumed him.

Lu Xu had played many underdog roles, but Qi Yi was the highest of the high.

Qi Yi was enigmatic and smug. Even when he occasionally displayed gentleness, it was merely a strategic maneuver to consolidate his imperial authority, not a reflection of his true nature.

The fascinating thing about such a character was that by merely embodying Qi Yi, Lu Xu could experience the thrill of absolute control—the power to grant and revoke, to decide life and death.

If merely acting the role felt this intense, the real Qi Yi must have been even more extreme than the script depicted.

The final scene of *Reign Supreme* showed Qi Yi, having dealt with all the conspirators and rebels, sitting alone on the dragon throne.

There was no sorrow on Qi Yi’s face—only indifference.

Ministers, concubines, palace eunuchs… all were tools to him. The only difference was that when they ceased to be useful, he could discard them without hesitation. There would always be others eager to serve him.

As long as he wielded his power wisely, history would remember him as a wise ruler.

History was written by the victors, and as the emperor, as long as he remained on the throne, countless brilliant minds would willingly serve him.

Chang Aiwei told Lu Xu that for this scene, he didn’t need to think about anything—just sit still. There was no need to ponder whether Qi Yi was good or evil. A ruler didn’t need to be defined by morality, because a good person might not necessarily make a good emperor.

Lu Xu did as the director instructed. When the camera focused on his "imperial glare," Chang Aiwei repeatedly signaled for him to "hold it." And so, Lu Xu held the pose.

Chang Aiwei is a highly efficient director who still keeps some habits from his early days in Hong Kong. Yet while he works fast, he’s equally skilled at creating richly layered scenes when needed.

"Cut!"

When the director yelled "Cut!", Lu Xu jumped straight off the dragon throne, making the director repeatedly warn him to "be careful."

With that, *Reign Supreme* officially wrapped.

Lu Xu reflected that filming had gone smoothly, though playing Qi Yi required him to think like a ruler—something that wasn’t his usual acting style.

While Lu Xu hadn’t developed a habitual crutch, as an actor, he naturally had his own distinct approach.

Beyond that, Qi Yi was a complex character.

Even after months on set, Lu Xu felt he hadn’t fully grasped the role’s depth, since the film needed Qi Yi to come across as hard-to-read.

Chang Aiwei was easygoing and gave Lu Xu room to improvise, but when they disagreed, the director wouldn’t hesitate to stop him.

In short, Lu Xu’s freedom had limits. The director had set clear boundaries for the character and script, and Lu Xu couldn’t cross them.

Every director has their style, and by joining *Reign Supreme*, Lu Xu committed fully to Chang Aiwei’s vision.

He worked hard to become the character, sometimes missing the mark but always correcting quickly.

Compared to Ma Yanwen in *Dough Figurine*, Qi Yi was hard for audiences to connect with. Lu Xu knew he’d put in the work, but viewers might not see it.

It couldn’t be helped—Qi Yi wasn’t someone audiences could root for.

At least he’d fulfilled the director’s task, and Lu Xu breathed a sigh of relief.

He didn’t think Qi Yi was easy to play, and he hoped fans wouldn’t meme-ify his face with "I am the emperor" captions.

Though… he suspected they would.

...

*Reign Supreme* filmed for nearly five months—no short shoot. There were outdoor scenes, but Lu Xu only shot palace sequences.

Chang Aiwei wanted *Reign Supreme* to launch a series. Though the release was still distant and box office uncertain, he treated it like a blockbuster.

He seemed laid-back because the actors exceeded expectations—especially Lu Xu, whom he praised openly to his face and to Xu Wen.

"Without Lu Xu as lead, this film wouldn’t have gone so smoothly," the director admitted.

Plus, with Lu Xu on board, they secured ample funding, so Chang Aiwei didn’t have to skimp on sets.

Lu Xu shared many scenes with Zheng Xiao. Since the ending revealed Hu Qing as a mastermind, their scenes looked simple at first but hit differently by the end.

Both delivered standout performances.

As an actor with a near-flawless track record, Lu Xu’s commitment to acting impressed Chang Aiwei.

His drive pushed the other cast members to excel. On *Reign Supreme*’s set, not only did Lu Xu shine—the entire cast outperformed.

Chang Aiwei didn’t want to credit Lu Xu alone, but the truth was, he deserved a lot of the credit.

...

After completing the filming of *Reign Supreme*, Lu Xu accepted Yue Hui's invitation to audition for a comedy film. He had no idea where Yue Hui saw any comedic talent in him, but the offer was so insistent that Lu Xu went cheerfully—only to end the audition in an awkwardly flat atmosphere.

As the director put it, one could tell Lu Xu was trying to be funny, but his handsome face was completely out of place with the comedic tone.

"You can’t be both funny and handsome—pick one."

"Sorry, sorry, but isn’t it good to at least try?" Yue Hui’s apology sounded anything but sincere.

Lu Xu: "…Actually, my attempt wasn’t enthusiastic at all."

"Not being enthusiastic isn’t a bad thing either," Yue Hui continued with the same insincerity.

The fact that Lu Xu wasn’t cut out for comedy finally became known in the industry, and comedy scripts practically vanished from the offers he received.

Truthfully, Lu Xu didn’t mind playing an unflattering role, but as the director said, even when he tried to look unattractive, he was still way better-looking than anyone else. If Lu Xu appeared on screen like that, the audience would only think the production team was downright cruel for forcing him to portray such an unappealing character.

Lu Xu: "…"

Well, he couldn’t force the director to make a decision that went against logic.

So, Lu Xu went for a spy thriller instead.

What attracted him to this spy film was the strong script. Though Lu Xu played the protagonist, the focus was on the plot, showcasing how a group of people—represented by his character—worked together to survive in desperate situations.

The enemy’s ruthless cunning, the deep infiltration of spies, the efforts to overcome obstacles in transmitting critical information, the perilous confrontations between opposing sides... The protagonist and his comrades displayed both intelligence and unshakable devotion.

This time, Lu Xu played a good guy role. According to his agent’s advice, taking on a villainous role in such a film wouldn’t do his image any favors.

Lu Xu still primarily played leading roles, but the characters offered to him now were more mature roles. While he wasn’t facing an immediate need for career transition, the day would eventually come.

Taking on too many villainous roles now would be detrimental to his future casting opportunities, especially in spy thrillers, where playing the bad guy could really backfire.

Lu Xu took his agent’s advice—whether the role was heroic or villainous, he would perform it well.

Occasionally, Lu Xu felt his daily life was all about picking scripts and shooting, but beyond those two things, he truly had nothing else to do.

After finishing the spy film, Lu Xu received a notice from the *Reign Supreme* crew—the release window was finally locked in.

Coincidentally, Lu Xu hadn’t found a suitable script afterward, leaving him with a long break. During his time filming the spy thriller, Zheng Xiao had taken on a medical drama—a film depicting the daily stories of a hospital—and now that production had wrapped up, Zheng Xiao was just as free as Lu Xu.

"What a coincidence!" Zheng Xiao messaged Lu Xu in their group chat. "Want to team up?"

"Let’s do it," Lu Xu replied with a handshake emoji.

With both of them having ample free time and the rest of the *Reign Supreme* cast not particularly enthusiastic about promotional activities, the audience following the film’s marketing felt like they were watching a mini *Light and Shadow Journey* reunion.

Wherever Zheng Xiao and Lu Xu appeared, memes and jokes followed—though neither of them intended it, the audience found it thoroughly entertaining.