Lu Hualiang glanced at her, "Your first movie?"
She had already filmed several movies three years ago and even became Best Actress, so why was there talk of a "first movie"?
Xia Weibao’s heart skipped a beat—shoot, she misspoke!
But she quickly smoothed it over, "What I meant was it’s my first movie since my comeback, hey don’t nitpick my words."
Lu Hualiang stared at her face for two seconds and then pinched her cheek, "Hmm, let’s go see it together."
The next day, "Despair" and "Republic of China Graceful Hero" premiered in cinemas everywhere.
Xia Weibao didn’t know what the online reaction was like, nor did she pay attention to it.
Instead, she waited to watch it with Lu Hualiang in the evening. She didn’t care about others’ reviews, only his opinion mattered.
After work in the evening, Lu Hualiang came to Hongtu to pick her up for dinner.
After eating, there was still time to spare, so they took a stroll in the nearby park and didn’t head to the cinema until seven o’clock.
Since both of their appearances were too eye-catching, they both wore sunglasses and masks.
However, both of their figures were top-notch, coupled with their aura—one commanding like a monarch, the other ethereal as a fairy—they still attracted everyone’s gaze.
Xia Weibao bought tickets for two screenings that night, watching "Republic of China Graceful Hero" first, followed by "Despair."
It wasn’t about gauging the enemy’s strength to ensure victory in a hundred battles; "Despair" was an educational film that did not contend for fame and fortune.
She simply wanted to watch "Republic of China Graceful Hero."
Because the male lead, Yuan Zhinan, was her Dog Emperor.
Love me, love my dog.
After the incident with Zhuang Xuejun, the cast of "Republic of China Graceful Hero" underwent a major shake-up, replacing the male and female leads, the second female lead, and even the assistant director.
It was evident that Wan Ke held great expectations for this film, sparing no expense.
He even managed to get last year’s Best Actress of the Golden Flower Award, Chen Naizhi, and the Best Actor, Meng Zhaocheng, to headline, while the rising star Bai He played the second female lead, the fresh-faced campus flower, Jiang Rongrong.
Besides, the film was packed with heavy hitters, where even a minor character could carry considerable popularity.
Without considering anything else, just the star-studded cast would probably compel many to enter the cinema involuntarily.
Xia Weibao watched quietly, wanting to see how her His Majesty would search for her alone until old age.
However, watching Meng Zhaocheng’s face evoked little sense of immersion.
How should I put it—the acting wasn’t bad, but it was too forced, like a zombie face, not at all like her His Majesty.
Her His Majesty may have had a poker face but it wasn’t rigid. It was a natural commanding presence that even without any facial expressions, could emit a king’s aura from within, compelling people to feel an instinctive submission.
Feeling a bit disconnected, she could only use her imagination.
Imagining him climbing to the pinnacle of power and on every lonely night, missing her, clinging to a faint hope, tirelessly searching day after day, month after month, year after year.
As she imagined, her nose began to tingle.
Her heart started to ache.
Just thinking of him searching for her alone for a thousand years made her heart feel as though it was being squeezed, making it difficult to breathe.
Thankfully, he finally found her.
Thankfully, in this life, she would no longer have to search in vain.
Turning her head, she discovered that Lu Hualiang was also looking at her, with a focused gaze.
The cinema was dark, illuminated only by the light from the large screen in front, yet it clearly reflected the intensity in the man’s eyes.