Translator: Lan Editor: Efydatia Qin Guan took a photo of him at the Golden Globes, a photo of him being chased by the media before he entered the hotel, as well as a promotional article for his fans. He handed each of them a USB flash drive.
After the crowd left, Wang returned to her computer and saw that Qin Guan's official website had become a sea of joy, both in China and the United States.
Everyone fell into an inexplicable state of excitement because of the news of their idol's award.
He was like a general who had been victorious in every battle, leading everyone to victory once again.
Qin Guan's fans were impressed by the concept of a high-quality idol.
More than 90% of his fans around the world had paid attention to him because of his handsome face.
As they got to know this simple artist better, they followed his footsteps and moved forward with him.
As time went on, his acting skills became better, his presentation became more glamorous, and he kept a low profile. Basically, other than winning awards, it was hard to find any news related to him in the media.
He wouldn't strip naked to gain publicity, nor would he use all kinds of ambiguous relationships to hype up his work, and he wouldn't make a big deal out of it before he did anything.
Many people didn't know that Qin Guan had participated in such a film until it was broadcast or after he had won an award.
He was like a clear stream in the entertainment circle, steady and not impetuous.
Inexplicably, it made people feel that only an actor who was serious and responsible for his work could have such qualities.
Naturally, more and more fans surrounded Qin Guan. They entertained themselves in Qin Guan's domain, as if he was the only sober person among the crowd.
The next day, most of the newspapers in China were about Qin Guan's Golden Globes. Hidden among the crowd, Qin Guan's fans didn't scream or lose their composure.
She did not scream, nor did she lose her composure. It was just like the area under Ji Men Bridge that belonged to the opium pipe boss. In this most ordinary morning, due to the sharp increase in the capital's population in the past two years, the area had expanded a little.
His old and shabby white jacket had been replaced by the latest bullet style Jinbei Six Row Seat by Opium Pipe, who still liked to smoke Dubbo cigarettes.
He, who controlled most of the morning and evening newspapers in the capital, rarely went out on his own.
But today, his figure appeared under the bridge, which was a rare sight.
The dispatchers, who knew their boss well, knew that there would be news about a man named Qin Guan in the newspaper that day, and it would be on a large page.
Sure enough, Opium Pipe lit a spicy cigarette with Wang Xiao Er's help after he got off the car. When he waved, everyone realized what they had guessed.
"Listen up, everyone! I won't give you too many tasks! When did I ever mistreat you? As usual, each stand will have 200 more copies this morning. I don't care what kind of newspaper it is, I only care about the quantity! "
"You can get 200 for each kind. 200 for 10 kinds is not bad either. You can decide how you want to split it."
The burning red cigarette butts indicated that everyone's business was as red and shiny as the color of the opium pipe in front of their eyes.
Newspapers about Qin Guan always sold well, and the demand for them far exceeded the supply.
The competitors looked at each other vigilantly. The Opium Pipe rolled his foot at the person closest to him and shouted, "What are you waiting for? It's almost time to load the goods. Hurry up! "As soon as he finished shouting, they began to swarm toward the C-130 pickup truck behind the Jinbei.
"Let go of me! I grabbed it first! "
"Bastard! Do you know how to count? How many copies are there in one bundle? Don't go too far! "
Dozens of people were fighting with each other.
Only Wang Xiaoer, who was standing next to the Opium Pipe, didn't move. He looked at the back seat of the Golden Cup with a cheeky smile and shameless laughter.
"Boss, I'm too skinny. I can't compete with you."
"You monkey! Your share is in the back. You can take it yourself!"
"Yes! Thank you, Opium Pipe! I'm going to load the goods now. Go on with your business! "
This kind of basic livelihood was the most direct response to a celebrity's popularity.
The birds and beasts had all dispersed under the bridge. Only the empty newspaper delivery truck was left. In this early morning, the truck rumbled as it started to move, and rumbled as it drove away.
There was only a story about Qin Guan's ordinary fans. It was because of them that the term "idol popularity" came into being.
It didn't matter if it was the ancient folk art masters in the Pear Garden, the crosstalk masters on the bridge, the film stars on the big screen, or the movie stars and singers in the Internet age.
All the celebrities' fame, reputation and status were built up by the most ordinary people.
Naturally, Qin Guan gave the most ordinary people the happiest reward.
Our idol is in the headlines again!
This was not based on gossip, but on real swords and guns. It was a dazzling Ballon d'Or.
High! Big! Big!
On February 18th, everyone in China was talking about an actor called Qin Guan, who had won an award abroad.
He was competing with the Americans for the trophy in the United States.
As the most innocent people, they just followed Daliu and watched the fun.
The news about Qin Guan's award was timely for some people though.
It was the busiest time of the day in the office of Huayi Brothers. Wang Yu, the most trusted secret master of the company, was arranging the work schedule for the two bosses.
When he got up to knock on the thick wooden door behind him, a very agile human figure flashed past him.
'Hey, do you have a reservation?' Hey hey hey, how can you force your way in! "
Before the little secret technique could stop him, he saw this person push the door open and turn his head, letting him see his face clearly.
"Me! I have an appointment with your boss, Lu Chuan! "
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