Chapter 54 Part 2

Mama Lin smiled understandingly and pivoted the topic. “You know the deal with me and her dad. Work keeps us so busy; we don’t get much time to look after Qingxu. If you can, I hope you’ll spend more time with her.”

“Don’t worry, Auntie. I will.” Lu Wuqi promised.

Far from just “more time”—if she could, Lu Wuqi would gladly turn into a pendant dangling from her girlfriend twenty-four-seven.

This wasn’t their first meeting or first shared New Year’s, so the chat stayed light: mostly advice and hopes for their future.

After about ten minutes, Lin Qingxu’s voice rang from the kitchen, calling them for piping-hot dumplings.

“Xiao Qi, full yet?” Lin Qingxu nudged her girlfriend’s leg with her knee—she’d overestimated her appetite.

“Two.” Lu Wuqi replied instantly.

“Gotcha~” Lin Qingxu scooped the two plumpest dumplings from the shared bowl with a ladle and plopped them into Lu Wuqi’s. Mama Lin was focused on her own plate.

“Xiao Qi, you’ve got this.” Lin Qingxu whispered encouragingly.

Staring at the extras in her bowl, Lu Wuqi zoned out briefly. A strange sense of déjà vu washed over her, but it slipped away before she could grasp it.

Maybe it was just Xuxu sharing food like before—a sneaky way to get her to eat more.

“Xiao Qi, quick, look! It’s fireworks! Someone’s secretly setting off fireworks!” On the eve of the New Year, right after they exchanged New Year’s greetings on the dot, Lin Qingxu was drawn by the sounds coming from outside.

To get a better view of the rare fireworks, Lin Qingxu even pushed open the window, letting the chilly wind blow across her face and tousle the stray hairs by her ears.

“Do you want to set off some fireworks too? I remember there’s a designated spot in the city for it.” Lu Wuqi picked up the scarf from the sofa and wrapped it around her girlfriend’s fair neck to keep her from catching a cold.

“I kind of do, but I think it’s pretty far away. It’d probably take half an hour to drive there.” Lin Qingxu said hesitantly. “And we didn’t buy any fireworks anyway. Regular supermarkets don’t sell them.”

“How about a bet then? I bet there are fireworks for sale near the launch area—maybe even a pop-up shop.” Lu Wuqi said, gazing at the fireworks blooming in the distant sky.

“Plenty of people might have the same idea as us. That little permitted fireworks zone is probably already packed.” Lu Wuqi sighed.

“Xiao Qi, you make a good point, so I’m not betting with you—it’s one I’d obviously lose~” Lin Qingxu drew out her words playfully. Seeing no new fireworks light up the sky, she decisively closed the window.

“It’s a new year now. Let’s change into the new clothes Grandma Lin gave us and head out.” Lin Qingxu suggested. “I heard the fabric’s been blessed. Wearing it during the New Year brings good luck.”

“Are you sure? Didn’t you think the color was too red?” A flicker of reluctance passed through Lu Wuqi’s eyes. “And the style is very…”

“They’re from my grandma! Even if the style’s outdated, we have to wear them!” Lin Qingxu cut off Lu Wuqi. “We’ll sneak out quietly so no one recognizes us.”

Lu Wuqi nodded reluctantly. “Alright, then let’s make sure we’re back before dawn.”

“No problem.” Lin Qingxu agreed immediately.

–

To be honest, the clothes from Grandma Lin were top-notch in both fabric and lining. The fabric had been blessed, and the cotton inside was grown by the elderly woman herself. To make these two new outfits, Grandma Lin had started preparing right after last year’s New Year—truly filled with love.

Of course, the red cotton jackets were quite retro in style, which was also true. Though Lin Qingxu had suggested wearing them, that didn’t stop her from tugging down her woolen hat and wrapping her matching scarf around most of her face as she got out of the car.

“Xiao Qi, let’s buy a big one. We’ll set it off once.” Lin Qingxu said in a muffled voice, only her bright eyes visible.

Lu Wuqi was dressed similarly. She gave an OK hand sign, then pulled out her phone to scan and buy a massive firework for 1888 yuan.

The fireworks launch area was indeed crowded. Lu Wuqi and Lin Qingxu eyed each other’s bright red cotton jackets, then tacitly lifted the giant firework together and carried it to a less crowded spot.

“Xuxu, we don’t actually have to force ourselves like this.” Lu Wuqi couldn’t help saying after setting it down.

Lin Qingxu coughed lightly. “But I already promised Grandma I’d wear it on the first day of the New Year.”

“Think on the bright side—we’re wearing them now, so by dawn, we can switch to other clothes.” Lin Qingxu tried to comfort her girlfriend—and herself in the process.

Lu Wuqi nodded helplessly, but the unease she’d felt when changing into the new clothes hadn’t faded. She had a nagging feeling something she wouldn’t like would happen in the early hours of this morning.

Events later proved her intuition spot-on.

After lighting the fuse with the incense the shop owner provided, there was a puff—followed by a huge orb with a trailing tail shooting upward. Then, with a bang—it burst into the biggest, most dazzling firework in the sky, lighting up countless faces below.

“Beautiful!” Firework sparks reflected in Lin Qingxu’s eyes as she hugged Lu Wuqi’s arm excitedly. “Xiao Qi, shall we set off another one?”

“Sure. Strike a pose this time, and I’ll take your picture.” Lu Wuqi tilted her head, watching the fireworks fade from brilliance to ash.

Fireworks were gorgeous, but their lifespan was too short—less than a minute from ignition.

If only the Xiao Yang bodyguard were here. She could’ve bought a bunch more at once, and they’d enjoy them longer.

Lu Wuqi mused to herself. Before she and Lin Qingxu could buy a second 1888-yuan firework, a “Holy shit!” erupted right beside them.

“Holy shit, it’s Director Lu and Lin Qingxu!” A CP fan with eagle eyes recognized them and shouted out their identities.

“What? Who? Director Lu?”

“Where? Where’s my goddess!”

Most people out setting off fireworks at this hour were young folks—especially the melon-chasing, front-line surfers of social media. Once someone called out Lu Wuqi and Lin Qingxu’s names, over half the crowd turned toward them.

Some who were snapping photos with phones or cameras swiveled their lenses in their direction. Shocked by the bright red cotton jackets, they still frantically clicked their shutters.

“Xuxu, run!” Lu Wuqi’s eyelids twitched wildly.

As expected, she knew something like this would happen. These fans had sharp eyes—she didn’t want to trend on her first day of the New Year!

Without a word from Lin Qingxu, Lu Wuqi bolted toward the parking area.

Compared to Lu Wuqi, Lin Qingxu had even more of an idol image to uphold. Especially since after the Lantern Festival, she had a fashion magazine shoot. If photos of her in the big red cotton jacket went viral, would that unsigned cover deal fall through?

Good news: The magazine’s editor-in-chief was a woman of her word and honored the agreement on schedule.

Bad news: #Director Lu, Lin Qingxu Red Cotton Coats# still shot to the top of the trends. Clear and blurry pics flooded the entry, and even GIFs of them fleeing in disguise took over the comments at lightning speed.

Lu Wuqi and Lin Qingxu tried hard to salvage it afterward, striking poses for nine decent photos and posting them before dawn to dissuade fan creations.

The outcome goes without saying. That embarrassing scene they both wanted to forget became CP fans’ ultimate favorite. Videos and fanfics alike kept getting dragged out for a spin.

–

After the Lantern Festival, Lin Qingxu shot her magazine cover, then picked up a few endorsements and variety shows to maintain exposure. By May, she joined Director Wen for new movie promotions.

Despite the main team’s tireless efforts—and the topic’s sensitive themes—on July 1st release day, it was overshadowed by bigger blockbusters. Even with Lu Wuqi’s help, it only secured 15% of screenings.

Fortunately, the film’s quality was stellar, bolstered by early CP fan support. On opening day, it grossed 30 million with 80% occupancy and 99% positive reviews, winning audience acclaim.

Word-of-mouth bred organic buzz, stabilizing daily box office at around 50 million with rising screenings.

Where there are raves, there are pans. When it broke 300 million, marketing accounts started slamming the plot, nitpicking one scene and spinning nonsense, while water armies lowballed ratings.

No need to think hard—Lu Wuqi knew those water armies were backed by competing films’ producers and investors. Smearing rivals for profit was an entertainment industry staple.

As the film’s top investor, Lu Wuqi wasn’t one to bully. Dahai Entertainment’s legal and PR teams earned their keep: lawsuits flew, clarifications dropped, reaping reverse traffic that pushed weekend box office to new highs.

Backend stats showed tons of repeat viewers, with an 80-20 gender split—80% female, 20% male.

Under Lu Wuqi’s protection, the film ultimately grossed 20 billion. Not top-ten overall, but for a non-commercial pic with a billion-ish budget, it was dazzling.

Lu Wuqi, as lead investor, netted nearly eightfold returns.

Submitted abroad during release, it snagged two nominations, boosting Lin Qingxu’s name in the West.

Notably, as the film dropped, luxury brand CC—which had once courted Chu Xiao for Asia—offered Lin Qingxu a three-year Asia-Pacific endorsement.

CC was an established luxury name with solid domestic rep. Sure, exec scandals like affairs popped up, but no political issues in China.

After three friendly legal chats between Dahai Entertainment and CC, Lin Qingxu signed on as the first actress to land a three-year Asia deal outright.

CC opening doors signaled high-end Western brands’ attitudes. Over the next two months, ten-plus brands offered high-couture gowns and jewelry loans, covering styling costs.

“Thanks, but my fiancée has already prepared plenty of dresses for me.” Lin Qingxu politely declined each with a smile.

No helping it—with a super-rich fiancée, multimillion custom gowns were bought on whim, each one-of-a-kind and rivaling the loans.

The foreign noms were bittersweet: limited international fame and nationality issues meant runner-up finishes, their only win a red-carpet moment.

Domestically, five noms yielded three wins: Best Director, Best Actress, and Best Picture—all for one film.