Just because I wrote "Zhu Xian," the school beauty sent me razor blades.

The Best Actor award was the first moment of the night that made the entire audience hold their breath.

When the nomination list was broadcast, Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman's names appeared side by side on the big screen, and the entire audience spontaneously burst into applause.

Gu Zhiwan sat down next to him, quietly poked the back of his hand, and whispered, "Guess who took it?"

Morgan.

Why?

"The role of Red is more difficult to play. Andy's perspective is that of the protagonist, and the audience follows him. But Red is an observer, and he has to carry the emotional weight of the entire film. This kind of role requires more skill."

Gu Zhiwan nodded and didn't say anything more. The guest on stage had already opened the envelope.

Morgan Freeman.

Morgan Freeman stood up from his seat, first turned around and hugged Lin Yuan, then patted Tim Robbins on the shoulder, shook hands with Michael, and then slowly walked onto the stage, accepted the trophy, stood in front of the microphone, glanced at the audience, and began to speak.

"I once thought my acting career was over."

"Then I met Reed." He paused for a second, "or more precisely, Lin Yuan brought Reed to me."

He lowered his voice a little as he said this.

"Thank you, Lin Yuan. He withstood all the pressure and made an exception for me. Without him, there would be no Reed, and no night like this."

The audience erupted in applause once again.

Lin Yuan sat there, not clapping, but simply nodding.

Gu Zhiwan nudged him gently from the side and whispered, "Why aren't you clapping?"

"We don't have enough hands."

"What do you mean by 'hands not'—"

She looked down and realized that he had been holding her hand the whole time, with no free time at all.

Gu Zhiwan's ears turned slightly red. She let go of Lin Yuan's hand, and Lin Yuan immediately clapped twice. Then he took her hand back, intertwined his fingers, and continued watching the stage as if nothing had happened.

Gu Zhiwan glared at him, but Lin Yuan didn't look at her; instead, the corner of his mouth twitched.

The Best Director award was presented in the second half of the event.

The presenter walked onto the stage and began by saying, "This year's director competition is the most intense I've ever seen in my career."

Someone in the audience laughed, and the atmosphere eased slightly.

Then he began reading the list of nominees, and applause rang out for each nominee.

The camera cut back from the screen to the entire venue, panning across the faces of the nominated directors before finally settling on Lin Yuan.

Gu Zhiwan, standing beside him, quietly covered his hand with hers and took his.

Lin Yuan sensed it, glanced at her sideways, and said nothing.

On the stage, the envelope was opened.

The award presenter looked down for two seconds, then looked up, and the entire audience fell silent for a moment.

"Lin Yuan, Michael Anderson—"

The sound was completely drowned out by the applause and cheers that erupted behind him, and no one heard or needed to hear the second half of his sentence.

Lin Yuan stood up.

Gu Zhiwan was standing beside him. She looked at him, her eyes slightly red, and smiled with her lips pursed, mouthing two words.

He saw it clearly.

He twitched his lips, gave her a look, then turned and walked to the front of the stage.

The stage lights shone down, and Michael was already in position. The two looked at each other, shook hands, and then each accepted the trophy and stood in front of the microphone.

Michael spoke first, offering a few words of thanks in a concise manner, before stepping aside to give the microphone to Lin Yuan.

The stage lights shone down from directly above, and Lin Yuan stood in front of the microphone, glancing down at the trophy in his hand.

All the cameras were focused on him.

He raised his head, glanced around at the audience, and began to speak.

Thank you everyone for your recognition.

The applause rang out, and he waited for the applause to subside slightly before continuing.

"When I was making this film, I never imagined it would be standing here. I just wanted more people to know that there was a man named Andy Dufresne who spent twenty years digging a path to the sunlight in the darkest of places."

He paused, and the audience fell silent as everyone waited.

He spoke his last words, not loudly, but the entire Dolby Theatre heard them—

"Hope is a good thing, perhaps the best thing, and good things never die."

The applause that followed was the loudest of the night.

Gu Zhiwan sat in the first row below the stage, looking up at Lin Yuan on the stage with a smile in her eyes. She just watched him, watching him stand in the brightest spot.

The awards ceremony concluded, and the banquet began.

The banquet hall was warmly lit, filled with the clinking of glasses and a throng of people. Lin Yuan followed the crowd, greeting one person after another. Gu Zhiwan followed beside him, occasionally taking the wine glass offered to him. The two worked together seamlessly without needing to say a word.

Spielberg approached him on his own initiative.

He avoided most of the media's attention, walked to Lin Yuan's side, and whispered, "Want to come out and talk?"

Lin Yuan gave Gu Zhiwan some instructions and then followed him to the terrace.

The night breeze in Los Angeles carried a hint of the sea; the terrace was quiet, a world apart from the noise in the banquet hall.

Spielberg stood by the railing, turned his head, and spoke with undisguised admiration.

"When I first met you in the coffee shop, I knew you could capture this story in everyone's hearts. Tonight's Oscar recognition is well-deserved for this film."

Lin Yuan thanked him, paused, and said, "Back then, the project encountered a problem with withdrawal of investment. If it weren't for your introduction, many things wouldn't have gone so smoothly."

Spielberg waved his hand and chuckled. "I just gave you a push; you walked the path yourself."

Lin Yuan picked up his wine glass and clinked it against his.

Spielberg turned to look at the night sky, his voice slowing as he sighed, "In recent years, too many Hollywood directors have focused on special effects and box office returns, forgetting what the core of film is."

He paused. "You're human. You haven't forgotten; that's the biggest difference between you and them."

Lin Yuan didn't say anything, only remarking, "The next one will be even better."

Spielberg turned to look at him, smiled, and said, "I'll be waiting."

When the banquet ended, Gu Zhiwan went to the terrace from the hall, pushed open the glass door, and saw Lin Yuan standing there alone, his wine glass empty, his face turned to the light.

She walked over and stood next to him.

"What are you thinking about?"

"It's nothing." Lin Yuan looked away and glanced at her.

"Let's go, it's time to go back."

The night in Los Angeles was still long, and the lights were still on. Lin Yuan led her out of the Dolby Theatre. Behind them, the sounds of the banquet were still going on. Ahead was the direction of the hotel. The night breeze was a bit cool, so she leaned closer to him. The two walked side by side into the light.

Oscar-winning director.

Nineteen years old.

This will be on the front page of every media outlet around the world tonight, but for Lin Yuan, as he walked out of that door, only one thing was on his mind—

What will the next story be about?