Chapter 103
With a 15-hour time difference, it was 4 PM in Los Angeles, precisely 8 AM in the capital back home.
The red carpet event started at 4 PM, and the award ceremony officially began at 5:30 PM. Fang Huai’s hotel was right next to the venue.
The Oscar red carpet was the most prestigious of them all. Its significance was unparalleled. Hard work, talent, and luck—none could be missing. Many people might never get the chance in their lifetime.
Fang Huai’s placement was somewhere in the middle—not at the beginning, nor the grand finale. He still had some time to feel nervous. Sitting in the car, he debated whether to call Ye Yuyuan. Before he could decide, a call came in.
Fang Huai picked up immediately.
“Mr. Ye.”
Ye Yuyuan: “Mm.”
Both of them remained silent. On one end, the fading afternoon light and honking cars. On the other, the fresh morning air and street vendors calling out their breakfast specials.
Fang Huai sat in his car, surrounded by countless cameras and flashing lights. Meanwhile, Ye Yuyuan stood outside an imposing building, also encircled by media. A tough battle lay ahead. The osmanthus flowers would bloom soon in September.
After a brief silence, Ye Yuyuan rubbed his thumb against his cufflink and said,
“Huai Huai, there’s something I’ve been keeping from you. I’ll tell you when I get back.”
Fang Huai thought, So you’ve finally decided to confess? He found it amusing and replied,
“I know. It’s fine… I have something too.”
“Mm.”
A reporter attempted to approach Ye Yuyuan but was blocked by his assistant. From a distance, they raised their voice, “Mr. Ye, may I ask about your stance on this matter?”
Ye Yuyuan made a gesture indicating “no comment.”
Fang Huai twitched his ears. “What stance?”
“Nothing,” Ye Yuyuan replied casually, glancing at the shadows cast by early autumn leaves. “After the Oscars, what do you want to do?”
Fang Huai thought about getting married first, but he said, “Prepare for my new album. What about you?”
Ye Yuyuan: “Accompany you.”
Fang Huai turned to look at the bustling traffic outside and chuckled. “Accompany me in preparing my new album?”
Ye Yuyuan countered, “Would that bother you?”
Fang Huai: “No, but…”
Ye Yuyuan lowered his gaze and softly said, “I’ll accompany you in everything.”
Preparing a new album. Or getting married.
Their second summer together was quietly coming to an end. In Los Angeles, a street performer played the accordion and sang an Irish folk song—a lighthearted and sweet love song.
Fang Huai hummed along with the tune, his heart floating higher in the oxygen-filled air. He thought about the decision he had made, both nervous and excited.
“Can I say something cheesy?” Fang Huai asked.
“Mm.”
“…”
At 4:30 PM in Los Angeles, Fang Huai’s hand reached for the car door handle—it was almost time for the red carpet. In the capital’s morning light, a staff member came to inform Ye Yuyuan it was time to go inside. The sky was a brilliant blue.
“I love you.”
Two voices rang out at the same time.
Across the Pacific Ocean and a 15-hour time difference, the leaves swayed, scattering patches of light. Autumn was coming.
This year’s Oscars, though lacking many Chinese faces, was undoubtedly a grand spectacle on the international stage. Many rising actors had been nominated, including several darlings of the foreign press. Fang Huai had only one work to his name. In Country A, he was still a nobody.
“Is it the endorsement for Orlanto’s summer collection? I remember those earrings.”
“Oh… What was he nominated for?”
“Best Actor.”
“So young? I thought at most he’d be up for Best Supporting Actor or something.”
“Hahaha, let’s welcome our next Oscar runner-up—Fang Huai.”
The middle section of the red carpet wasn’t packed with A-listers, so the reporters were relatively relaxed. Though every Oscar had its share of suspense, today’s outcome seemed fairly predictable. Most people had a good idea of who would win.
Asian and Black actors winning Oscars was already rare.
“I remember Fang Huai—he’s very handsome,” a female reporter remarked. “I heard he’s close with Ptah’s CEO. Maybe there’s a scandal to dig up? Oh, I don’t know, I’m just saying—maybe.”
“The Nameless Melody” was apparently very good. My friend in the UK became obsessed with Fang Huai after watching it.”
“Really? Maybe. But to be honest, Mr. Moric’s Strawberry was incredible.”
Moric had been an Oscar runner-up for three years in a row. Everyone speculated that the jury might finally give him his due tonight.
If not Moric, then maybe Johnny? Anyone who made it to the Oscars had fought their way through, but Fang Huai’s nomination seemed questionable—it was likely Director Xu’s influence that got him in.
Johnny was a Russian actor, thirty years old this year. His red carpet slot was right before Fang Huai’s. Unlike them, Moric was set to walk last.
“Closing the event?” Johnny scoffed after hearing his assistant’s update. “Who do they think they are?”
“Oh, and there’s also Fang—”
“An Asian? Say no more.” Johnny cut him off with a dismissive gesture.
He didn’t believe that people of color could achieve anything at the Oscars. Let alone a gay guy. Johnny was openly homophobic—he saw “effeminate men” as walking AIDS carriers. Oh, and don’t even mention the “Black monkeys.”
His outfit today was meticulously planned: a tailcoat-style tuxedo and a cane, transforming himself into a European aristocrat from the Middle Ages. Among all the male stars on the red carpet, few had his level of flamboyance. He was determined to win.
Johnny was nominated for Sky Mirror and was walking the red carpet with his co-star. Though they played lovers in the film, in reality, the lead actress was Black—someone Johnny didn’t respect at all. Their relationship was strained.
Her name was Diana.
As they stepped onto the red carpet, as expected, foreign media swarmed around Johnny. He relished the attention.
But just a few steps in, Diana suddenly fell behind and called out, “Hey, Johnny, I think I—”
She was wearing a diamond-encrusted gown, but for some reason, something had gone wrong. The off-shoulder dress was slipping down!
Johnny cursed internally. If he didn’t help Diana now, the media would tear him apart. But if he did, his red carpet moment would be ruined—there was no way they’d let him walk it again.
This was the Oscars red carpet.
And besides, since it was Diana’s fault for being a clumsy “Black monkey,” why should he have to take responsibility?
Johnny made his decision in an instant. As Diana’s assistant rushed up to help her, Johnny gave her a reassuring smile—then subtly pushed her to the side. This counted as an unforeseen incident, meaning the media wouldn’t film it.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Some media outlets would film it—capturing Diana at her most humiliated. It wasn’t hard to imagine the backlash she would face. At that moment, she truly looked pitiful, standing there all alone. Her long gown made walking difficult, and when she stumbled, she had to clutch the front of her dress to keep it from slipping, looking both helpless and embarrassed.
But the camera flashes followed Johnny.
Johnny was very pleased with himself. But he hadn’t walked far when he suddenly realized something was off. The crowd of foreign reporters that had surrounded him just moments ago—nearly 80% of them had left.
…Even the reporters themselves weren’t sure why.
Because of Orlanto’s campaign, most of them had at least seen pictures of Fang Huai before—a striking young man of Eastern descent, full of natural charm. But in this industry, beautiful faces were everywhere. To be honest, Fang Huai wasn’t someone they had thought was that special.
Even if he was somewhat remarkable, they had assumed it was just the elite branding that made him stand out.
Until they saw him in person for the first time.
On the same red carpet, Johnny was objectively very handsome, and he had put great effort into his styling. But the moment he was placed beside Fang Huai, something shifted. He suddenly seemed… lesser. Dull.
In other words—he had been completely overshadowed.
Fang Huai’s look was simple, with almost no makeup, yet under the bright lights, he didn’t appear pale or frail at all. He was fresh and effortlessly handsome, his skin smooth and luminous. He wore a starry blue custom-tailored suit, giving off the air of a young prince.
The sapphire cufflinks were the finishing touch.
Only when seeing him in person did one truly understand how different Fang Huai was. He radiated a kind of freedom and romance that made people want to skip class just to go on a date with him—or to sit and listen to him strum a love song on his guitar. The feeling of a first love.
The sky was gradually darkening, dusk tinged with streaks of deep red and traces of violet. The fading light gathered at the tips of the young man’s slightly curled hair—like a poem for the end of summer.
But Fang Huai wasn’t walking the red carpet in the usual way.
From the moment he stepped out of the car, he had been moving quickly. Some photographers who wanted to take proper shots had to scramble to keep up.
Someone nearby kindly reminded him that he was walking too fast, but Fang Huai only responded with a smile.
He kept moving forward, undoing the buttons of his suit jacket. When he reached Diana, he draped it over her shoulders, then took her hand and led her aside.
The entire venue erupted. Countless cameras captured the moment.
Diana lowered her head, tears slipping down silently.
At the same time, 9 AM in the capital of China.
One by one, the automatic glass doors slid open. A silent man stepped through the first set of doors.
Across the street, a quiet crowd remained seated. They sat opposite a towering, imposing building, their rainbow flags fluttering in the wind. Men and women alike, all silent.
The banners they held were filled with words—messages of hope, defiance, and love. They glanced at one another, catching the flicker of determination in each other’s eyes.
There were more reporters today than usual—this was the fourth appeal petition.
“Excuse me, may I ask who the legal representative is?” A newcomer reporter blurted out.
No one answered him.
But he found out soon enough—and he quickly understood why his colleagues were treating today with such gravity.
This was, indeed, someone no one dared to underestimate.
Rumor had it that he had been preparing for this case for a long time—submitting documents, consulting with relevant officials—for nearly two months. He had staked all his shares in Ptah on this. If he failed, in order to minimize the impact on Ptah’s stock price, he might even step down from the board in the future.
Many still didn’t understand why he was doing this. If he simply wanted to marry his same-sex partner, he could have done what many others did—immigrate, register abroad, and be done with it. There was no need to go through all this trouble.
In this era, most people only cared about their own affairs.
The national emblem hung high above, and the spacious hall carried an atmosphere of solemnity. Officials in white gloves sat in their elevated seats, while the clerk’s pen never stopped moving.
Ye Yuyuan’s expression was calm as he pushed forward the documents in his hand.
His voice, cool and magnetic, echoed in the vast chamber. He was too composed—nothing like someone who would do something so radical.
“Petition for review of the rejection of the same-sex marriage bill.”
He said.
Like a jade stone plunging into water, sending ripples outward. Under the vast, clear blue sky, a white dove spread its wings and soared.
*
Fang Huai’s red carpet moment was ruined.
The entire ordeal had lasted less than thirty seconds, but as soon as he stepped off, Shi Feiran chewed him out.
“Alright, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” Fang Huai said.
He honestly didn’t think it was a big deal. He didn’t believe this would be his only time attending the Oscars—there would be plenty more red carpets in the future.
Diana, on the other hand, felt incredibly guilty. “I’m so sorry. Truly.”
She still didn’t understand how her dress had malfunctioned. The situation had been chaotic, but she had checked it before leaving—the dress itself had passed every quality check. Thinking back to Johnny’s behavior just now, a wave of realization and disgust swept over her.
“It’s alright,” Fang Huai smiled, escorting her back to the Sky Mirror team. “Good luck.”
Diana wasn’t personally nominated, but her film had been nominated for Best Foreign Language Film.
Clutching the cross at her chest, Diana looked at him and said, “Mr. Fang, may God bless you.”
Fang Huai wasn’t religious, but he always appreciated sincerity. “Thank you.”
“Typical. An Asian who can’t even walk a red carpet properly,” Johnny muttered to his assistant. “I’m just worried he might give me AIDS… Can you get AIDS through breathing?”
His assistant trembled slightly and stayed silent.
He didn’t dare mention that a certain foreign media outlet had recorded the entire red carpet incident. Before they could even control the PR damage, the video had already been uploaded to Twitter.
The photos alone weren’t enough to tell the full story, but in the video—it was unmistakable.
When Diana first stepped out of the car, Johnny—too eager to rush onto the carpet—had stepped on the hem of her dress, loosening one of the fasteners at her chest. Then, when she reached for help, Johnny not only ignored her but shoved her aside. She had been left standing there, helpless—until Fang Huai took off his jacket and led her away.
[Johnny? Oh, if I’m not mistaken, he’s openly made homophobic, racist, and sexist remarks before.]
[How did someone like this get nominated for an Oscar? Sky Mirror?]
[There are always a few pieces of trash in the mix.]
[Who’s the Asian guy who walked up at the end? He’s gorgeous.]
[I know! He’s Orlanto’s brand ambassador in China.]
One side of the comments was furiously bashing Johnny.
The other side? Extremely curious about the young man who had appeared at the end.
Even in a blurry video, his striking features were unmistakable—like a dream, a fleeting glimpse of the perfect Eastern prince.
Moreover, this young man had given up his own Oscar red carpet moment for a stranger. If people were to ask themselves honestly, most wouldn’t have been able to do the same.
The video on Twitter was shared multiple times, and discussions about it skyrocketed.
Before long, a high-resolution image of Fang Huai taking off his jacket was also uploaded. Under the dim evening light, his gaze was lowered, gentle and pure, his eyes sparkling like stars.
Someone dug up the fact that Fang Huai was Orlanto’s brand ambassador and that he had been nominated for an Oscar at just nineteen. That’s when people realized—he wasn’t just good-looking, but also exceptionally talented.
Especially the promotional photo for Orlanto featuring him wearing a jade earring—where he was napping in the afternoon sunlight—it had left countless people in awe.
The Oscars hadn’t even officially begun yet, and Fang Huai had already, without even knowing it, gained a small wave of fame online.
As the clock struck 5:30, all the actors and guests took their seats, and the lights dimmed.
The 101st Academy Awards ceremony officially began.
