Novel schedule on pause, Rain ran awaaaaaay ! See you next week, to resume some series !!

REI : Chapter 78.1

 

Westerners tend to have more passionate and extreme personalities. Although there have always been cultural, racial, and historical differences between Europe, America, and Asia, when someone is captivating enough, flaws don’t matter to them. Even if you’re involved in drugs, crime, or have mental health issues, many people still admire your personal charisma and other qualities. Let alone, Luo Ding’s only “flaw” is being of a different race. Decades ago, African Americans faced severe discrimination, yet now they thrive in Hollywood. Why wouldn’t they accept an Asian face?

 

Since ancient times, tragedies have been more likely to become classics, and tragic characters are more easily remembered by people.

 

Luo Ding, who played Austin’s emotional support throughout the entire movie, had countless scenes with Duan Xiubo. They argued, shared sweet moments, supported each other through hardships, and in the end, due to a twist of fate, were separated forever. This left Austin with a lifelong regret, and it left the audience thinking about them long after they walked out of the theater.

 

On the premiere day alone, in North America, the film grossed 38 million USD at the box office, breaking the record held by *Blade II*, which had reached 35 million on its premiere.

 

Just like Duan Xiubo skyrocketed to fame from his first movie, Luo Ding now experienced the same taste of success both abroad and at home. After the overseas film premiere tour ended, the team returned to Los Angeles for the final promotional activities. When Luo Ding and Duan Xiubo were about to board a flight back to China, the airport was filled with foreign fans seeing them off.

 

“Luuuooooooooodiiiiiing!!!”

 

“Duaaaaaan Xiiiiiiiubo!!!”

 

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!”

 

Even the security staff outside couldn’t control the excited crowd. Many fans burst into tears right where they stood when they saw Luo Ding and Duan Xiubo appear together. The enthusiasm was no less than what they experienced with fans back home. Thankfully, Luo Ding was used to such situations and didn’t panic despite being surrounded. He maintained a calm smile and communicated fluently with the nearby fans in English. Fans, unless they had ill intentions as anti-fans, were usually cooperative as long as their idols made a request. Luo Ding simply asked them to quiet down a bit so they wouldn’t disturb others in the airport. About halfway through the airport, the chaos subsided, and all that could be heard were fans shouting for everyone to remain calm and wishing Luo Ding and Duan Xiubo a safe journey.

 

Cameras and phone flashes went off with *click, click, click*, as Luo Ding waved and nodded toward the fans. Wu Fangyuan, wearing a mask, tightly clutched his arm while walking on the outside. On the other side was Duan Xiubo.

 

Duan Xiubo raised his hand slightly above Luo Ding’s back, though he didn’t touch him, knowing Luo Ding cared about personal space in public.

 

Maybe because the crowd was so dense, someone in the front lost their balance from being pushed. A fan with a large camera stumbled directly toward Luo Ding, the big camera lens aimed squarely at Luo Ding’s face.

 

Duan Xiubo had been on high alert the whole time, used to his company arranging tight security with bodyguards clearing the way. Given his status in the industry, he could often remain distant and aloof, using the airport’s VIP service in such situations. But ever since being with Luo Ding, his image had become more down-to-earth, and he slowly started understanding the diverse faces of fandom. While Luo Ding remained calm, Duan Xiubo’s thoughts ran wild. He worried that someone malicious might be hidden among the fans or that there could be a stampede because of the crowd. 

 

When the fan stumbled, Duan Xiubo instinctively jumped in front of Luo Ding and turned to shield him in an embrace.

 

The camera hit Duan Xiubo’s strong back, and Mi Rui quickly caught it. Although the fan fell awkwardly, the expensive camera was fortunately saved.

 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” the fan, now pale with fear, repeatedly bowed, apologizing to Duan Xiubo.

 

Luo Ding, who was being held in Duan Xiubo’s arms, normally would have been uncomfortable with such behavior, but this time, he didn’t resist.

 

He knew Duan Xiubo wouldn’t have done this without a reason.

 

With one hand on Duan Xiubo’s chest, Luo Ding raised his head slightly, his nose almost brushing Duan Xiubo’s lips. Quickly, he pulled back a little. “What happened?”

 

Duan Xiubo first looked back, then released him. “Nothing.” He took the camera from Mi Rui and returned it to the fan with a smile. “Be careful.”

 

Embarrassed, the fan didn’t stick around to take more pictures. She quickly disappeared into the crowd, which immediately swarmed her, either marveling at her camera that Duan Xiubo had touched or scolding her for standing too close to Luo Ding. If Duan Xiubo hadn’t reacted quickly, that camera would’ve hit Luo Ding’s face. For an artist, their face is their livelihood.

 

The crowd slowed down for a moment because of the incident. Although it seemed complicated, the entire scene lasted less than a minute. The fans behind them, having held their breath, now felt relieved, though some couldn’t help but scream out of sheer excitement.

 

“Ahhhhhhhh!”

 

“Love!!!”

 

Amidst the spontaneous screams and English shouts, one Chinese phrase stood out like a crane among chickens:

 

“BOYFRIEND POWER!!!”

 

Both Duan Xiubo and Luo Ding heard it. Luo Ding didn’t understand right away, but Duan Xiubo, who had long been familiar with the fan circle, understood perfectly. He glanced at the source of the shout and found a girl with an obviously Asian face, jumping up and down with her phone.

 

Duan Xiubo gave her a knowing smile, lifting his chin slightly, his gaze deep and meaningful.

 

The girl froze in place.

 

*****

 

On the plane, after a delayed reaction, Luo Ding finally figured out what had happened earlier. His first response was to get up and check on Duan Xiubo’s back.

 

“Did you get hurt?”

 

Duan Xiubo kept dodging, holding his hand and repeatedly assuring him, “No, no, I’m fine. I’m not that fragile.”

 

Luo Ding, despite his slim frame, had quite a bit of strength. In the end, he managed to force Duan Xiubo to turn around and lift his shirt. Looking at his back, he saw a large red patch of skin below his shoulder blade. Luo Ding pressed the area but didn’t notice any signs of severe pain on Duan Xiubo’s face, which reassured him a little.

 

“You’re crazy! This time it was a camera, but what if it’s a knife next time? Would you still block it? Do you think you’re Austin?”

 

Duan Xiubo couldn’t take his eyes off Luo Ding’s lips, which kept moving as he scolded him. He swallowed, quickly glancing around to see Mi Rui and Wu Fangyuan watching them from a distance. Reluctantly, he suppressed the urge to kiss Luo Ding.

 

Watching as Duan Xiubo coaxed Luo Ding into calming down with just a few words, Wu Fangyuan, who had worried they might argue, sighed with relief and sat back down. He noticed Mi Rui had already settled in and ordered a cup of coffee. After observing him for a while, Wu Fangyuan finally leaned over and commented, “They really have a good relationship, huh?”

 

Mi Rui, sipping his coffee, blew on it gently, then glanced sideways at Wu Fangyuan.

 

…If memory serves, this guy accompanied them on the trip to shoot *Supermodel*, right? Since returning from Milan, how many months has it been? And he still hasn’t noticed? Every day Mi Rui felt like he was walking through a blinding light as the third wheel in Luo Ding and Duan Xiubo’s relationship. Sometimes, watching Wu Fangyuan casually pull Luo Ding away when they were together, Mi Rui couldn’t help but admire his bravery. Inwardly, Mi Rui regretted ever looking down on him. Wu Fangyuan might seem clueless, but he definitely had guts.

 

Wu Fangyuan, seeing the complex expression on Mi Rui’s face, tilted his head in confusion, his large eyes shining brightly despite his chubby face, probably from spending too much time around Luo Ding.

 

Mi Rui sighed internally, turned his gaze away, and mentally drew a big red X over his revised opinion of Wu Fangyuan.

 

“…” Wu Fangyuan rolled his eyes and sat back, muttering to himself about Mi Rui’s arrogance. Even Gu Yaxing wasn’t this full of himself! He didn’t even bother responding—how condescending.

 

*****

 

The period between June and July was the summer blockbuster season in China. There were many major productions with grand scenes and excellent production value, several of which Chinese movie fans had eagerly anticipated for years. But none could withstand the overwhelming force of *Blade III*. Within a very short time, it obliterated the competition. The crown for highest opening day box office was surrendered in just sixteen hours, and by the weekend, the highest first-week box office was also overtaken. Even the midnight screenings were often sold out, with an average occupancy rate of 56%.

 

It had been years since there was such a frenzy. The domestic box office alone made the production company laugh all the way to the bank. And that was only 40% of the overseas revenue. Adding in the North American box office, *Blade III*’s global total after the first week had already reached a jaw-dropping figure, leaving everyone in the industry in awe.

 

Barring any surprises, no other movie that year—or possibly in the next few years—would be able to  surpass it. Later films might break old box office records occasionally, but none would so thoroughly obliterate its predecessor like this one.

 

Chinese moviegoers were on the verge of going crazy.

 

Director Clovis spared no expense on the film’s visuals, cementing his position in the director’s seat. During filming, the special nature of the crew might not have been obvious, but in post-production, he brought in two of the finest teams and poured money into it without hesitation. The lighting, makeup, cinematography, and choreography crews were all top-notch professionals. Even the costumes were custom-made from the very beginning of the movie’s preparation. Over such a long period of time, the final effect was beyond what even Clovis could have anticipated.

 

With post-production complete, the 3D imagery of the otherworldly continent on the screen was stunningly beautiful. He had prepared for this world for so long that it felt surprisingly real on screen. It didn’t feel fictional or imagined, but as though it had quietly and eternally existed in another dimension, just beyond our reach.

 

Old fans of *Blade II* and *Blade I* weren’t the only ones impressed. Many who had never seen the earlier films went to the cinema simply to support Luo Ding and Duan Xiubo. By the time they left, they had become die-hard fans, eagerly recommending the movie to everyone around them. If you had to spend money on a movie ticket, there was no better choice than *Blade III*.

 

The only downside was that Luo Ding’s character died again.

 

At the end of the movie, watching Austin look back with sorrow amid the cheering crowd left viewers both heartbroken and deeply moved.

 

Alfred, Luo Ding’s character, wasn’t even the main supporting role. Besides Austin, the indisputable protagonist, there were several other actors with similar screen time. Some even appeared more frequently than Luo Ding. But in the end, the two characters that left the deepest impression were Austin and Alfred. Even the stunningly beautiful elven queen, who made a jaw-dropping appearance halfway through the film, was overshadowed by the chemistry between Austin and Alfred.

 

The film’s punch was sharp and clean, leaving no room for criticism. Audience excitement fades quickly, no matter how wildly popular something becomes. Like the ephemeral bloom of a flower, it can flourish and then wither rapidly. Ultimately, the only thing that truly endures is the work itself.

 

The atmosphere around discussions of the movie was one of deep reflection and loss, but the moment the conversation shifted to the actors themselves, the tone changed drastically. In fandom circles, emotions turned into pure, over-the-top excitement.

 

Rational thought was unnecessary—just bask in the sweetness.

 

Recently, Duan Xiubo’s favorite pastime had been browsing Weibo. It was even more satisfying than checking the daily box office numbers of the new movie.

 

Various event photos and clips from premieres, especially the scene where he shielded Luo Ding at the airport, were being edited and remixed into countless versions by fans. No matter how poor the quality of the original footage, the enthusiasm of the fans couldn’t be dampened. The fandom was full of talented artists who cleaned up and refined every frame. In some shots where Luo Ding looked up at Duan Xiubo, his eyes were filled with pure trust, a detail that sent fans into a frenzy. Duan Xiubo, noticing his slightly anxious expression and furrowed brows in those moments, regretted not making eye contact with Luo Ding. That would have made the scene even sweeter.

 

Fandom experts, or “big hands,” were different from casual fans. While Duan Xiubo was here quietly regretting not looking into Luo Ding’s eyes, fans were already losing their minds from how sweet the moment was.

 

“Ahhhhhhhhh! My boyfriend is such a waste compared to Duan Da!”

 

“I’m breaking up when I get home!”

 

“I’m filing for divorce when I get home!”

 

“Showing off your love, how shameless! Could you at least tone it down? Does the whole world have to know you’re in love?”

 

“Luo Ding! Your nose touched Duan Da’s lips! Do you even know how sweet that is?!”

 

“The world no longer needs me.”

 

“Before I opened the full-size image, I put on my running shoes, because I knew I’d be running laps again after screaming my heart out. The neighborhood aunties must think I’m crazy—what should I do?”

 

Duan Xiubo laughed so hard that he fell back onto the bed, kicking his legs. His slipper flew into the air and landed on his face, his joy turning into mild disaster.

 

The homepage of the Weibo user “Alessandro” was flooded with posts from CP (couple pairing) fans. A few solo stans (individual fans) would occasionally pop up, lamenting how unfair the fandom world had become.

 

“In the past, solo stans ruled the skies, but after falling for Luo Ding/Duan, I realized in this crazy fandom, CP fans are the way to go…”

 

“I think I’m being led astray—what should I do?”

 

“Count me in! I’ve been lurking in the CP circle lately, and it’s kind of fun.”

 

Duan Xiubo sat up, feeling refreshed. He hesitated for a moment but decided not to like any of the posts. Instead, he typed a comment: “Luo Ding’s album should have some news in a few days. Show him your love with album sales, okay?”

 

His account always had a serious, no-nonsense tone. He didn’t post much, but whenever he did, it was always big news. Sure enough, soon after his post, the number of shares skyrocketed.

 

Fans within the industry referred to him as “A Da” (Big A), believing he had access to inside information. Because he never abused his position or leaked rumors just to gain popularity, his credibility was high. Some of Luo Ding’s solo fan accounts and Luo Ding/Duan CP accounts had even privately messaged him, inviting him to become a moderator or honorary elder of their fan forums, but he had politely declined.

 

Duan Xiubo scrolled through countless comments asking, “A Da, is it true? How do you know? Are you from Yaxing Studio? Spill some insider tea!” He clicked his tongue in amusement. Studio staff? If only they knew how simple that was compared to the truth.


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