Chapter 17: V-school
The marketing accounts tirelessly dug up and rehashed details, leaving no stone unturned—even Verse’s early stage outfits and interview records were scrutinized. Ultimately, they concluded that Lu Xu’s styling started to differ from his teammates much earlier than fans had initially thought.
[Let’s revisit Verse’s debut timeline. At first, Lin Ge Entertainment planned for Xie Qingyang, Gu Sinian, and Meng Qin to debut as a trio. Lu Xu was added later. Back then, Verse’s main manager described it like this: Lu Xu was ‘very lucky.’]
[Therefore, we can assume that the critiques of Lu Xu’s skills in his early days stemmed purely from his late addition to the group, which meant he hadn’t undergone the same prolonged and systematic training as the others.]
[This is a comparison of individual popularity a year and a half after Verse’s debut. By analyzing search data from six major platforms, we can see that Lu Xu’s popularity during this period was far ahead of the rest of Verse.]
[But, take note: from this point onward, the group’s positioning began to change. Previously, Lu Xu, who was positioned closer to the center, was moved to the sidelines, forming the lineup pattern that is more familiar to the public today.]
[At this time, Verse had already achieved its initial popularity milestones and entered the top-tier boy group stage. The members’ styling became more refined, Lu Xu’s mismatched dressing style officially began, and… his popularity started to decline due to incidents such as being rude at signing events, rolling his eyes at fans, giving attitude to teammates, and acting entitled.]
“…”
One particular marketing account, skilled in data analysis, delved deeply into the rumored reports of Lu Xu allegedly purchasing his own performance costumes. Starting from Verse’s debut and ending with its disbandment, they thoroughly analyzed the group’s popularity trends, styling differences, and resource distribution among the four members. The data cited was all authentic, making the analysis detailed and credible.
This account distinguished itself from the crowd of paid repost marketing accounts, earning a considerable amount of trust from its followers.
In the early days, Lu Xu’s popularity was high, but it plummeted due to negative rumors. However, regardless of the time period, Lu Xu’s resources never matched his popularity (referring specifically to the resources provided by Lin Ge Entertainment).
↑ This represents the data-driven route of investigation.
Meanwhile, another marketing account excelled at analyzing words and expressions. After reviewing numerous Verse interview videos and live event footage, the now-famous “V-school” was born.
For example, in V-school, Gu Sinian’s “note and tear” was only an entry-level topic.
If someone could analyze the photo editing software each of the three other members used, resulting in Lu Xu having three different faces in the same scene, or explain why Lu Xu, the tallest in the group without shoes, always appeared shorter in group photos, that person would clearly be at the intermediate level of V-school.
Advanced-level V-school involved dissecting incidents like Lu Xu helping elderly people cross the street or making multiple charitable donations, only to have his teammates claim credit with lines like, “This is just how we in Verse are.”
[…My goodness, I used to think Lu Xu’s strong facial features made him look aggressive and calculating. Turns out he’s probably just a fool!]
[Honestly, I wouldn’t last three episodes in Verse.]
[Lu Xu was really played to death.]
As for a third marketing account, their sheer ability to identify over a hundred outfits in a single day—including the brands, events where they were worn, and their prices—made them stand out in the grand investigation into Verse.
It turned out that even as a marketing account, one needed exceptional skills to rise above the chaos of this fierce battle.
[…Suddenly, I feel a bit sorry for Lu Xu.]
[As someone who was once a fan of Lu Xu, even though I’ve long since stopped following idols, I can say Lu Xu himself was always shy and not very good at pleasing others.]
[+1. The timeline and popularity analysis seem accurate. When Verse first debuted, Lu Xu was really popular. He often brought his teammates onto variety shows, though the teammate fans refused to admit it and claimed Lu Xu was the one being carried instead.]
[…I’m honestly shocked by the photo editing. Three entirely different editing styles for the same scene?]
[Ahhhh, every teammate is shadier than the last, while Lu Xu keeps falling into every trap. Isn’t he just a sweet, naive fool?]
[LOL, even as an outsider I can tell when there’s a hidden trap in their words, but Lu Xu seems completely oblivious. Help!]
[It almost feels like Lu Xu was lucky to leave the group. I think he’s already graduated from V-school, which is probably why he can now spar with Gu Sinian on equal footing.]
…
The moment Yang Shu’s styling in My Baby Prince was exposed, Lin Ge Entertainment realized something was amiss.
Previously, the backlash had only targeted Gu Sinian, but with the current trend, it seemed Xie Qingyang and Meng Qin wouldn’t escape unscathed either.
At present, the three remaining members of Verse were Lin Ge Entertainment’s cash cows. Not only did their appearance fees skyrocket, but each member was also juggling double-digit endorsement deals. If their reputations were to collapse, Lin Ge Entertainment’s year-end financial report would likely take a massive hit.
So, while the marketing accounts and netizens were quietly dissecting the styling, hashtags like #LuXuPerformanceCostumes and #MyBabyPrinceStyling suddenly disappeared from the trending lists.
Several high-traffic discussions were also swiftly addressed with Lin Ge Entertainment’s classic move: “false rumors, legal warning letters.”
But this only fueled the public’s curiosity.
The entertainment industry had been starved of gossip for a long time. With such a juicy scandal finally emerging, who would let it go?
The pursuit of V-school knowledge seemed endless.
Even among the spectators, several celebrities accidentally liked related posts before quickly unliking them, adding more heat to the Verse infighting drama.
Of course, the key issue was that Lin Ge Entertainment’s actions were a bit too heavy-handed.
[I can’t even post about buying my own outfits anymore. Haha, what a joke.]
[+1. I just posted a classic V-school quote on Xie Qingyang’s Weibo and got myself graduated instantly.]
[…B*llying and silencing? Lin Ge Entertainment really has its methods.]
[Ahhhhh!]
What made netizens scream in frustration was that not only were they unable to post keywords like “self-purchase” or “performance costumes,” but even Lu Xu, caught in the eye of the storm, couldn’t post anything either.
All Lu Xu could do was screenshot the drafts he couldn’t publish and tag Lin Ge Entertainment’s official account, his three former teammates, and his former manager one by one.
What he wanted to post had nothing to do with the ongoing discussion. It was simply:
[At 20-something, I can now independently purchase my own bicycle and start exercising.]
The accompanying picture? A shiny new mountain bike.
But even that didn’t get through.
So he quietly messaged his former company, teammates, and manager: [Are you going to buy it for me?]
[I’ll buy it!]
[I can’t figure out what forbidden word is in that post. What’s wrong with buying a bike?]
[I suspect it’s because his post contains the words ‘self’ and ‘purchase.’]
[Suggestion: Lu Xu should change it to ‘dog bought a child vehicle.’ That’s how I managed to post it.]
[…We always hear about people buying paparazzi, but Lin Ge Entertainment turns out to be dogs buying humans.]
[20-something dog·buying·child vehicle—LOL, poor Lu Puppy is speechless.]
In any case, Lin Ge Entertainment’s over-the-top censorship only increased the discussion around Verse. The situation also pushed marketing accounts to deliver ever more creative takes.
Lu Xu didn’t really do anything—well, except buy a bicycle—and yet his Weibo follower count shot up by 2 million.
Meanwhile, the cast of My Baby Prince wasn’t sitting idle either.
For example, when the price of Lu Xu’s outfits was exposed, the official My Baby Prince account would share the post with a shocked emoji:
[This could’ve covered two episodes of our production! So much money!]
According to the V scholars, the “impoverished” My Baby Prince, where a few outfits could fund two episodes, still managed to outperform the explosively high-budget The Watchers.
Yang Shu posted: [Let me borrow it [heart emoji].]
The V scholars interpreted this as a jab at Meng Qin, considering Lu Xu once lent clothes to Meng Qin but was still accused by Meng Qin’s fans of “stealing clothes.”
Xia Xuewen posted two emojis: a dress and a tear, corresponding to Gu Sinian’s past use of a musical note and a tear.
V Scholars: “Beginner level achieved.”
…
While the internet was in an uproar, Lu Xu himself wasn’t particularly affected.
He had deleted almost all contact information related to Lin Ge Entertainment. Even if they wanted to pin the blame on him, they couldn’t reach him anymore.
Back when Verse disbanded, Lin Ge Entertainment had already exhausted all the “black dirt” they had on him. Afterward, Xie Qingyang and the others could only repeatedly reference Verse’s “group spirit” to boost their popularity but had no further ammunition to smear Lu Xu.
When someone is covered head-to-toe in scandals, they become untouchable in a way.
Lu Xu was untouchable. Xie Qingyang, Gu Sinian, and Meng Qin, on the other hand, were not. Even after Verse disbanded, they remained tightly bound to the group’s legacy, as it was a cornerstone of their public personas.
During this period, those three were undoubtedly feeling the heat.
Meanwhile, Lu Xu was still waiting for the results of his audition.
In his past life, he wouldn’t have had to worry about such things. Forget a supporting male lead—he would have had first pick of lead roles.
But Lu Xu didn’t see starting over as a regret.
The real regret would be not being able to act.
Starting over, while still pursuing the career he loved, felt more like a challenge to Lu Xu. After all, it wasn’t up to him whether or not he had to live a new life. No matter how much he resisted, the “jump” would happen regardless.
Lu Xu waited for a week, but there was still no news from the production team. He had a hunch that the role probably wasn’t his. On the day of the audition, there weren’t many actors present, roughly four people auditioning per role, with only four or five roles needing to be finalized.
For results that could be decided in a day, the delay likely meant behind-the-scenes power struggles between agencies. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have taken this long.
But without official confirmation, he was left in limbo, waiting.
With a sigh, Lu Xu suddenly heard his phone vibrate.
It was a message from the assistant director who had added him earlier.
The message expressed regret that Lu Xu hadn’t been selected this time and hoped they could collaborate in the future.
Lu Xu responded with a simple, “Understood.” Perhaps because he didn’t probe further, the assistant director added a few more lines. He explained that the director and screenwriter had initially been optimistic about him but ultimately passed because of the “trouble” Lu Xu had caused online.
[Take my advice: actors being mistreated is normal. Our production team prefers actors who follow the rules.]
[If you’re too sharp-edged, this industry won’t accept you. You’ll understand that someday.]
The grievances Lu Xu had endured weren’t mentioned at all. Instead, the message framed the current wave of bad public opinion on the Internet as entirely Lu Xu’s fault.
