Chapter 149: "Doesn't this acting put those young idols to shame?"

On the stage of the Cannes International Film Festival awards ceremony, the presenter, Reeves, began announcing the list of nominees. It has long been a tradition at Cannes for the Best Newcomer award to be presented by the previous year’s winner, serving as a symbolic passing of the torch.

As Reeves took the stage, the audience offered a round of applause, a gesture of respect for this significant segment of the ceremony. The Best Newcomer award marks the dawn of a new actor’s career and is often the most fiercely contested category—a once-in-a-lifetime honor that, if missed, cannot be pursued again.

As Reeves read the names of the nominees, the large screen displayed highlights of their performances, ensuring the audience had a clear impression of each candidate. This prevented the awkward situation where attendees might be seeing the winner for the first time only when they walked up to accept the trophy.

"Clap, clap, clap!"

Following each clip, the guests offered enthusiastic applause, validating the acting prowess of the nominees. Regardless of the outcome, any newcomer reaching this stage possessed a commendable level of skill. There would be no embarrassing displays of actors needing eye drops to force out tears; such a thing would undermine the integrity of the Cannes Film Festival. At the very least, the festival maintained high standards for evaluating acting, understanding that the audience cannot be treated as fools—some levels of performance are clearly authentic to the discerning eye.

As the clips continued, the screen shifted to the fourth nominee, Zhou Ran. The organizers had chosen a powerful sequence: a scene in a training room where Zhou Ran, alone, undergoes a profound emotional transformation from utter despair to the rekindling of hope.

This was arguably the most challenging segment Zhou Ran filmed for the entire movie. Aside from his kissing scene with Zhang Xiaofeng, this sequence required the highest number of retakes.

On the big screen, viewers watched as Zhou Ran wept in the corner of the training room before gathering his thoughts, his eyes gradually filling with a renewed light. The guests were stunned by the performance; they could perfectly perceive the emotional shift he portrayed. Sitting in the audience were seasoned veterans of the craft who saw far more than the average viewer. They recognized that Zhou Ran’s intensity was perfectly calibrated, never veering into the realm of overacting. Through this clip, they began to recognize him, forming a preliminary impression of him as a newcomer with genuine talent.

Beyond the venue, the live-stream chat was exploding.

"Is that Zhou Ran? My god! I didn’t even recognize him at first."

"His acting is incredible. I can actually feel his emotions just through these clips!"

"Isn't Zhou Ran a singer? How can he be this good at acting? Doesn't this just highlight the gap?"

"Shouldn't certain 'fresh meat' idols feel ashamed seeing this? Come out and get schooled!"

"Oh my God, this actor seems really talented. Who is he?"

The online audience was mesmerized. They found it hard to believe a newcomer could reach such heights, especially one whose primary career was in music. Were all newcomers this monstrously talented nowadays? International viewers also began to take note, realizing that a new Chinese actor had arrived with serious skill.

Once Reeves finished introducing the four nominees, the atmosphere grew tense. For the four hopefuls, this was a pivotal moment. This honor could only be claimed once in a lifetime, and missing it would be a regret that lingered forever.

The screen behind Reeves split into four, showing the faces of the nominees—a "public execution" of nerves that heightened the intensity. Both the live audience and online viewers could see exactly how anxious each person was. Zhou Ran, naturally, felt the mounting pressure.

He was not alone in his anxiety. Beside him, Chef Huang and Zhang Xiaofeng were equally on edge. They knew the weight on Zhou Ran’s shoulders and the hopes invested in him. His company alone had poured a massive amount of resources into his development—nearly ten million in material costs alone.

"I announce that the winner of the Best Newcomer award at this Cannes International Film Festival is..."

Reeves paused, deliberately ratcheting up the suspense. He had learned this trick from the person who presented his own award when he was a nominee. That presenter had been even more cruel, dragging out the moment for nearly a minute. It seemed to have become a tradition; presenters loved to tease the nominees, as if reclaiming the suffering they had once endured themselves.

"I announce that the winner of the Best Newcomer award at this Cannes International Film Festival is... Zhou Ran! Congratulations, Zhou Ran!"

After a half-minute pause, Reeves finally revealed the name. Seeing "Zhou Ran" on the card, he nodded slightly. He had taken note of the young man during the clips; he was a newcomer with real skill, and his overall presence was quite good—only a hair’s breadth away from his own level.