'Love Between Lines' Chen Xing Xu on the quiet logic of letting go, being called boring, and more

Recently, Chinese actor Chen Xing Xu (Love Between Lines, My Page in the 90s, Fall in Love) did a pictorial and interview with L'OFFICIAL. The following is an excerpt from the same.

On the first day of turning thirty [March 31], as dusk settled over Hangzhou, Chen Xing Xu completed the telling of this cover story.

Notably, at the same time of year — in the spring of 2021 — L'OFFICIAL HOMMES also had a conversation with him. Back then, Chen Xing Xu was twenty-five, talkative, and even on late-night work calls, he spoke in a bright, upbeat manner, enthusiastically sharing his excitement about acting and his strange dreams.

Five years later, the details from those old recordings were revisited and compared, yet the thirty-year-old Chen Xingxu gave many completely different answers. He frankly admitted that he has become less talkative and no longer has interesting dreams: "Actually, I like the me from four or five years ago the most. I was very lively and spirited then."

However, none of this stems from nostalgia. Over the course of the hour-and-a-half conversation, the vibe was calm and deep, yet also marked by a kind of endearing "fuzziness" and lively smiles. He said he was very happy: "I really like who I was five years ago. If he stood in front of me, I could still feel his joy. But that was the me of the past. The me now is still me. I don't dwell on the past, nor do I feel sad."

Five years is a span long enough for accumulation [of experiences, emotions, and thoughts]. The old recordings, like a piece of amber, perfectly preserve the version of Chen Xing Xu who was joyful and vibrant, along with his unreserved dreams and subtle, unspoken emotions. The same interviewee and interviewer, separated by over 1,800 days and nights, also just happened to form a reflection of time.

"Today, talking about those things from five years ago, I can vaguely remember why I answered the way I did back then — what I was thinking, how I acted, even recording my dreams." Yet his tone remains understated: "People grow up. Maybe five years from now, I'll have even less to say about myself. But no matter the year, the past, present, or future, they are all phases for me. I know these are just stages of life. Change is inevitable; there's no need to judge it as good or bad. You just keep moving forward."

There is, in Chen Xing Xu, a profound acceptance of the fluid nature of life — perhaps shaped by precocious life experiences, or perhaps it is simply his nature. Looking at a broader timeline, his debut at the age of three destined him for a "transparent upbringing" and the preservation of a wealth of footage. In particular, those moments of crumpled cries and tears were, for a long time, used for playful interactions and teasing with his adult self.

He calmly accepts this, acknowledging that he has come to this point through a journey marked by the immaturity [of the youth] and openly expressed joys and sorrows. Now at thirty, those bright, pulsating sparks and vigor have gradually settled with the passage of time, like being encased in resin, becoming moments frozen [in past]. However, "I won't look back, nor will I dwell on the past. Unless it's a beautiful memory, like a trip to somewhere in China or abroad, or something happy, something worth remembering. Nothing else." His eyes are deep and sharp. Only when he hugged a cushion, a certain "fuzziness" slipped through. "I don't want to. I'm too lazy to think about it. Just thinking about it is tiring."

On the first day of turning thirty, many stories and emotions were laid bare. But ultimately, the past has gone by; everything new is flowing evenly within constant change. "It's all [part of the] process. Honestly, I don't really care what the specific changes are. I just need to know who I am," he said.

April in Hangzhou is warm and breezy. The hotel isn't far from West Lake. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, one can see lush weeping crabapples and February orchids. Along the way, there are also groves of broad-leaved camphor trees, currently changing leaves. The canopy is not very dense, so as you pass through, light and shadow flicker. Spring is in full bloom.

The interviewer casually described this to Chen Xing Xu, but he softly said, "Actually, I've come to Hangzhou many times, but I've never been to West Lake." His understanding of the city has largely been limited to the airport, the hotel, and work venues. This time was no different. He arrived in the early hours of the previous night, did the day's shoot, and only managed a few glances out the window on the way back after wrap, before the car had already driven into the underground garage. After going upstairs and taking a brief rest, the next job began.

Although it was for work, no cameras were rolling, and the atmosphere in the room was calm. Team members placed two bottles of water on the coffee table and then went about their tasks. Everyone was busy, yet all were listening as he spoke, occasionally interjecting with playful remarks about being "left on read."

"It's not that I deliberately don't reply. My eyes saw the message, my mind replied, but my hands just didn't move," Chen said, leaning back on the sofa and assuming the posture of holding a phone, smiling. "I even forget to reply to my mom's messages." 

He's a very "energy-efficient" kind of person, with not many stagnant emotions. Many things can be brushed aside with a simple "forget it." His schedule has been packed lately. "Tired, yeah. Really quite tired. What more is there to think about? Just seize whatever time I can to sleep and not think about anything else."

The "well-established-at-thirty milestone" he once imagined arrived amid this intense workload. Chen Xing Xu has a bit of reflection — but only a bit. "After all, it's my first day at thirty." With a touch of dry humor, he continued, "I originally thought the thirty-year-old me would be more mature, but it seems I haven't changed much compared to my twenties. And when you really reach this point, you come to take it easy. You're less anxious. Some goals don't have to be all achieved by thirty."

Chen Xing Xu's birthday falls at the end of March. Looking back over the half year before that, he was almost always busy with work. With three dramas, Love on the Turquoise Land, Love Between Lines, and My Page in the 90s, released back to back, he shuttled through entirely different worlds and emotional dimensions; he built a broad and layered spectrum of characters on screen using a steady stream of high-quality work, with each work receiving solid market response.

Yet, when faced with such an intense period of work, Chen Xing Xu's response remains characteristically "energy-efficient": "Pretty tired." Without any extra emotional embellishment, he gives a simple, down-to-earth response: "I think it's enough that the shows are aired. It's good enough that each show can be broadcast smoothly." 

His way of thinking is more direct and simple, unconcerned with outside voices and focused only on his own level of completion. While audiences scrutinize plots and discuss characters, the one who creates those dreams has already handed in his answer — without extra emotional embellishment, without repeatedly looking back on his efforts, only a confirmation that it is "done." Just like he said, "I won't look back, nor will I dwell on the past." "Every role is new, and I'm different at different stages. I'll seriously and responsibly complete the tasks at hand, but there will always be aspects I feel I didn't do well." 

Chen's tone remains calm. "It's impossible to constantly be checking for and filling the gaps. There are always regrets, more or less, in anything. If you approach everything with the mindset of making up for something, there will just be new mistakes. So I can only look ahead."

This is the efficient, "energy-saving" path he has forged through years of practice. When faced with problems: "Solve what you can, and let go of what you can't." 

"To be honest, there are many things in life that can't be solved. When something is beyond your capacity, no matter how much you struggle internally or drain yourself mentally, it's useless — it simply can't be solved. That way, not only do you feel miserable, but the problem still remains unsolved. So I'd rather stop thinking about it, and just let it go."

There seems to be an invisible stop-loss line in Chen Xing Xu's heart — he doesn't get conflicted or tangled up in things. If something truly can't be worked out, he shifts his focus instead, turning to things like working out or skiing.

During the conversation, when faced with the remark of being "boring", he smiled and explained, "By reason, actors are supposed to be nuanced and sensitive, but for some reason, as I've gotten older, I've become more and more detached. My emotions are thinner too. Once it's over, it's over. My team says I’m boring and always asks me why. I say there's no 'why. Why does there have to be a reason for everything? I just don't feel like it."

"If it's something I'm really interested in, I'll think it over. Otherwise, I just don't want to — or rather, I won't think too deeply. I'm already tired enough; I don't want to want to exhaust myself even more."

As a result, Chen's boundaries are clear and his logic precise. This state of being "unconflicted" is a comprehensive manifestation of his energy-efficient way of thinking and a stable inner core. Perhaps it is a result of self-observation shaped during his years as a child actor. As he grew up, it evolved into a kind of clear wisdom — the most precious resource for a creator is a steady inner tranquility, and it is also the life force that can continue to burn.

Having grown up on film sets, Chen Xing Xu's childhood was marked by numerous chapters of "beginnings" and "endings". A wrap meant saying goodbye to a character he had spent months with, only to turn around and step into an entirely unfamiliar, prescribed world.

Along with a certain professional pragmatism and decisiveness, his boundaries have become even clearer. "Having played so many roles, I feel that exploring acting is also a process of growing in life. To portray a character well, I first have to understand his logic and behavior, and then gain some experience."

But he also clearly understands that emotional experience and self-analysis are two different things: "Work is work, life is life — I keep them separate. No matter how complex or impactful a role is, it won't affect my real life, because I know that's acting — that's work."

In a conversation five years ago, Chen Xing Xu described a dream: "I have very strange dreams, like movies. I dreamt of a little boy in a strange place — everything he had experienced was piled up from books. Then, in the next second, those books turned into a street, where all the buildings, decorations, and even the green belts were also books. Every page, every word in those books was something the child had experienced. But he was still just a child — so many experiences couldn't have all happened in this [one] lifetime. Maybe that space made of books is the many lifetimes he experienced."

As for now, "I don't have time to dream anymore," Chen Xing Xu said, his expression carrying a pragmatic plainness. "Back then, it really was…" The unfinished sentence holds a trace of lingering reflection. He smiled slightly, "Now I just try to get as much sleep as possible, rest whenever I can."

Those splendid, fantastical dreams have faded as reality unfolded. Yet there is no sadness or nostalgia — only the natural course of growing up, where abundant imagination and the urge to express turn inward, channeling energy into something more concrete. He doesn't find it a pity.

"I talk less." "I don't dream anymore." "I seem to be getting more and more boring." These are the changes Chen Xing Xu summed up. Still, some changes have revealed themselves positively. He rarely appeared on variety shows, but last summer, the global lifestyle exploration reality show Earth Super Fresh aired. Audiences got to see his more relaxed, endearing, introverted, and "fuzzy" side.

"I've always had that side," he said. "I know it myself. It’s just that people usually only see me in my roles. They haven't seen what I'm like behind the screen."

Filming variety shows is a different work experience. Chen Xing Xu made friends while on the show and found joy in small, everyday moments in a distant foreign land. 

"There was a café in Sicily. It was very quiet. I really liked that place." Fragments of travel memories surfaced along with it. "After growing up, it's mostly been work. Wherever I go, I don't really have the mindset to fully enjoy it. I remember once going to Jiangxi as a child and riding a bamboo raft. I don't even remember how old I was, but the scenery on the water was truly unforgettable."

Yet some core aspects remain unchanged. Chen Xing Xu admits that he cannot draw energy from others to solve problems. "You can definitely be influenced by positive energy, but in the end, you still have to solve things yourself." His tone is matter-of-fact. Plain even in his self-reflections: "I don't have the same vitality I used to — that phase has passed. And in the future, I may become more and more insipid."

His tone is unfluctuating. He accepts the natural ebb and flow of his energy and, in doing so, has arrived at a deep understanding of time: the self of the past, the self of the present, and the self of the future are all simply different chapters of the same "I". Change is the grammar of growth, while the "I" is the subject that continues moving forward within that flux.

He has witnessed many versions of himself: the lively and silent ones; the raw joys and sorrows on set; and the dark complexity of his characters. He holds all of these facets within himself — neither denying them nor indulging in them. He allows emotions to pass through him. He can feel low. He can be insipid. He can be boring.

The mystery of time is not about who [or what] "I" ultimately become, but rather that amidst all the changes, to finally understand and be at peace with who "I" really am. Change is life's hydrology, with its own rhythms of depth, pace, and flow. What remains unchanged is that the one who perceives these currents is wading through them.

At thirty, Chen Xing Xu no longer dreams those boundless, fantastical dreams. His curiosity about the world and his urge to explore are now poured into one concrete role after another. Time and experience are like tributaries continually feeding into the river, altering its composition and volume, yet unable to change the direction of its flow.

The child who once gazed at a street of books in his dreams and the young man who now calmly describes himself as insipid and even boring are simply different branches of the same river.

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