Chapter 745

As they chatted, live music began, and the red curtain on stage slowly rose, revealing a giant golden Little Golden Man, over two meters tall, standing prominently at the back of the stage.

Then the host Jimmy Kimmel and a group of dancers—white, black, and yellow—took the stage, dancing and singing energetically.

Too excited, front-row attendees like Halle Berry, Isabelle Huppert, Captain America, Sherry, and Black Widow all got up, and the entire audience stood, swaying to the music.

Forced to join in, Fang Hong and the others stood and clapped along to the rhythm.

The atmosphere was highly interactive and wild, far from solemn, brimming with lively energy.

Of course, cameras cut to Fang Hong and Liu Tianxian, triggering a frenzy among domestic viewers.

"Liu Tianxian, Liu Tianxian" flooded the screen; Mango TV broadcast it live domestically, having bought the rights, though the timing differed from that in the United States.

After the dance ended, the audience sat back down, and host Jimmy Kimmel launched into a stand-up comedy routine, drawing intermittent "ha ha" laughter.

He was also a comedian.

"What are they laughing at?" Fang Hong asked Liu Tianxian, tilting his head.

"He's making fun of Matt Damon—joking that he tied his hair in a braid and made a historical film in China, and said The Great Wall lost eighty million U. S. dollars, publicly mocking Lao Mouzi," Liu Tianxian translated.

"Thank goodness Lao Mouzi didn't come—if he had, where would he have put his face?" Fang Hong said.

"Mm."

Liu Tianxian nodded again: "Now he's mocking Amazon—Bezos is right there."

Fang Hong turned around and saw Bezos, a bald man, sitting at the very back.

As for the joke, Chinese people didn't get Western humor, so they didn't find it funny.

"The host is now mocking Meryl Streep," Liu Tianxian hadn't even finished speaking.

Suddenly, Meryl Streep stood up and bowed to the audience; everyone instantly rose, thunderous applause erupting like a storm, filled with joy.

Forced to stand again, Fang Hong and Liu Tianxian rose—mainly because everyone around them stood, and they had no choice.

"This woman is like an empress—twenty-one Oscar nominations, fifteen Best Actress wins, unprecedented, and never to be surpassed. Tianxian, you must work harder," Yu Xian clapped, ending with a nudge for Liu Tianxian to surpass her.

"How can I work harder? Even if they squeezed me dry, I couldn't do it," Liu Tianxian felt it was too much to ask.

"Let Principal squeeze you dry," Yu Xian chuckled.

"Go to hell," Liu Tianxian shot him a glare.

After the thunderous applause, the audience sat again, listening as the host continued his banter.

"Last year we were criticized for racial bias; this year won't be like that—this year's Oscars have welcomed beings unlike us."

"Black people saved the Space Administration in Arrival; white people saved jazz in La La Land; yellow people saved Mars in The Martian."

As the host spoke these words, the director immediately cut to Liu Tianxian and Fang Hong—they were being referenced.

Liu Tianxian knew the camera was on her; she kept a calm expression, though inside she was thrilled.

Billions of viewers worldwide were watching her.

"The Martian is a special film—the lead actress is a Chinese girl who carried the entire movie herself," the host paused.

The audience below looked confused, as if unaware.

"You haven't seen this film, right? Doesn't matter—it's a great film, otherwise it wouldn't have been nominated. And the lead actress is a celestial being—not my term, but what Chinese viewers call her."

The host's teasing drew "ha ha" laughter from the stars and celebrities; some glanced at the big screen and caught Liu Tianxian's face.

Others turned toward Liu Tianxian, curious to see what she looked like—some had seen her before.

Liu Tianxian had a broad forehead and rosy, fair skin—quite fitting Western aesthetics.

But her rosy cheeks were from blushing; being watched by so many made her embarrassed.

Beside her, Fang Hong remained calm—he simply didn't understand what they were saying.

"The director of this film is a man called Principal—I don't know why everyone calls him that; maybe he likes to teach, and since our country's history is so long, there are always a few people who enjoy recounting history and teaching other nations how to govern," the host teased Fang Hong, slipping in some political commentary.

They could mock the president freely—political topics came naturally to them.

Laughter and applause continued unabated.

Yet Fang Hong showed no reaction, looking utterly confused.

"He's talking about you," Yu Xian tapped him.

"About me?" Fang Hong frowned.

"He says you like telling history—just because our country has a long history," Yu Xian said.

"Oh," Fang Hong replied indifferently.

Liu Tianxian stayed silent but listened closely.

After teasing the two, the host delivered a lofty transition, spoke of the Oscars' glorious past, and then the ceremony officially began.

The audience grew more serious, no longer laughing as before; the earlier banter had merely served to introduce all the major nominees.

The Martian received six nominations: Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Visual Effects, Best Sound Effects, Best Sound Editing, Best Art Direction, and Best Actress.

Except for Best Actress, all were minor awards.

Yet six nominations weren't many—many films had twelve or thirteen, like La La Land.

First up was Best Supporting Actor; the presenter was last year's Best Actress, who spoke two lines before announcing the winner—the supporting actor from Lion.

Then came Best Costume Design, Best Makeup, and Best Hair Design.

The presenters walked onstage with a swagger.

The entire Oscar ceremony would last three hours, with musical performances and the host occasionally returning to banter, so the major awards would take time.

Fang Hong, unable to understand what they were saying, grew bored.

After the documentary awards, the United States launched its patriotic emotional mode, bringing up a Space Administration employee—nearly ninety years old, seated in a wheelchair.

Some in the audience were moved to tears, stood up again, and Fang Hong and the others had to stand up once more.

At that moment, he felt the Oscars were just another show—much like domestic ceremonies, all formality, nothing more.

Next came the minor awards—Best Sound Editing and Best Sound Effects—won by other films.

The Martian was also nominated, but won nothing.

After the awards were presented, the Oscar screen played a video of Fang Long receiving the Lifetime Achievement Award at the Governors Awards, along with clips of his past glories.

The entire audience rose to their feet again, applauding the three Lifetime Achievement Award recipients; at this moment, Fang Long smiled, radiant and triumphant.

The Best Supporting Actress award went to Fences, a Black woman.

Yet, frustratingly, the entire audience stood up once again, and Fang Hong was speechless: "You have to honor Black people? This is way too politically correct."

"Come on, just endure it a little," Liu Tianxian said.

"You won this time; next time we won't come anymore. We're always bowing to these foreigners. Our domestic award ceremonies are so much better—quietly see it through to the end."

"We don't even know if we'll win yet," Liu Tianxian said.

After the musical number, the next awards presented were Best Art Direction and Best Cinematography, both going to La La Land; The Martian was shut out again.

All the earlier awards were minor ones—Hollywood stars and celebrities took the stage one after another, presenting Best Cinematography, Best Editing, Best Visual Effects, and Best Animated Short Film. Too many.

Just handing out these minor awards took over two hours.

Meanwhile, The Martian had won not a single award—not even a minor one—not even the Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay; all five of its other nominations had failed, leaving hope only on Best Actress.

As the ceremony progressed further, Liu Tianxian grew increasingly tense.

After nearly two and a half hours of awards, Best Director was finally presented—and it went to La La Land.

This film had already won four major awards.

Then came Best Actor; after a brief retrospective of past Best Actor winners, the award was presented.

This award went to Manchester by the Sea!

Only two major awards remained: Best Actress and Best Film Award.

First up was Best Actress; as usual, the ceremony reviewed past Best Actress winners, and the presenter was last year's Best Actor, Leonardo DiCaprio.

After speaking a few words on stage, he displayed the nominees one by one on the big screen: first, Isabelle Huppert from Loving;

second, Ruth Negga from Loving; third, Emma Stone from La La Land; fourth, Meryl Streep from Florence Foster Jenkins.

Each film featured a standout female performance, and the fifth was Liu Tianxian from The Martian.

The clip shown was Liu Tianxian, in a spacesuit, sitting on a rock, gazing alone at the stars over the desolate Mars.

The loneliness, the desperate will to survive—it deeply moved the audience.

Each time a film title appeared, a clip of its lead actress played, and the camera cut to that actress's face.

Their expressions were solemn, each visibly tense—especially Liu Tianxian, whose palms were drenched in sweat, trembling with nerves, her heartbeat accelerating.

Fang Hong straightened up, reaching out to grip her hand tightly.

This made Liu Tianxian feel as if she had gained strength!

"The Oscar for Best Actress goes to..." Leonardo DiCaprio paused, pulling a card from the envelope.

This pause made the other Best Actress nominees grow even more tense, their expressions even more serious—except Meryl Streep, who remained relaxed.

Liu Tianxian's whole body trembled, her heart pounding as if it would burst out—she simply could not control herself.

Even with the man's strength beside her, she could not control it.

"Liu Tianxian from The Martian!"

(End of Chapter)