Chapter 184: Feedback and Gossip
To match the atmosphere of the venue, the three of them wore red suits, though each had a slightly different design.
When they first tried on the outfits during the red carpet styling session, none of them thought the look was particularly appealing. However, once the stage lights shone on them, even the coldest colors took on a warm glow—let alone the naturally warm red.
[It’s like three big dogs singing to me on stage!]
[Who gave Lu Puppy a scarf? The cuteness level just doubled! I can’t help but send little hearts his way—so adorable!]
[And… this song is actually better than I expected.]
On that stage, in terms of vocal skills, Lu Xu and the other two weren’t exactly top-tier. Yet, the moment their voices rang out, the audience could feel their sincerity and their earnest effort to sing the song well.
This song had become a nationwide hit along with the movie’s popularity. The passion and deep emotions in its lyrics were what truly moved the listeners. Even though their vocal abilities were limited, the three of them conveyed their understanding of the song through their voices, expressions, and gazes, sharing that sentiment with the audience.
[Sounds great!]
[?? Honestly, Shao Yao’s voice is the best, but when the three of them sing together, it just clicks perfectly. Their trio is amazing!]
[+1 +1! Also, does anyone else think that Lu Xu looks absolutely stunning on stage? I’m even tempted to buy a red suit, but I know that outfit would be a disaster on me.]
To fans, the last time Lu Xu attended such a formal event was the Contention Awards ceremony. The black suit he wore back then was a bit somber, but with his face, it exuded an undeniable air of restraint and elegance. In contrast, today’s red ensemble made him appear especially warm—like a little white bear wrapped in a red scarf in the snow.
[Lu Puppy should perform on stage more often! With the right styling and makeup, he’s absolutely unstoppable!]
For the fans, the surprise tonight wasn’t just Lu Xu’s styling—it was also the way he immersed himself in the performance.
Back in the Verse days, Lu Xu wasn’t the strongest member vocally, but he wasn’t the weakest either. The group had mostly performed fast-paced songs back then, which might not have suited his style. It wasn’t until tonight, watching him on stage, that fans suddenly realized—when it came to slow songs, Lu Xu was actually a great fit.
While performing this song, Lu Xu didn’t just sing; it was as if he were telling a story, guiding the audience through the emotions embedded in the lyrics.
After spending years in Verse and later honing his craft as an actor, both his vocal tone and expressive ability had improved significantly.
“He’s really matured.” Tan Qi watched the screen, a trace of emotion in her voice.
In a way, his willingness to step onto the stage again was proof of that maturity. After Lu Xu fully transitioned into acting, Tan Qi had never expected to hear him sing live again.
Now, standing under the stage lights, Lu Xu was dazzling.
Soft hair, a bright smile, and a quiet confidence built on real achievements—on that stage, he was like a source of light, making it almost impossible for Tan Qi to look away.
Seeing him now, anyone unfamiliar with his past would assume his journey had been smooth and effortless, as if he had never faced hardships.
Tan Qi liked this version of Lu Xu. But then again, she had always liked him—even before he became who he was today.
…
A song only lasted a little over four minutes. Lu Xu and the other two performed without dancers, focusing purely on their vocals. Once they finished, they exited the stage, marking the end of their performance for the night.
Zheng Xiao wiped the sweat from his forehead and turned to Shao Yao and Lu Xu. “My back is completely soaked.”
Lu Xu remained calm, while Shao Yao said, “I just pretended the audience wasn’t there.”
That was his way of easing his nerves.
But the three of them had rehearsed countless times before going on stage, and once they were up there, they didn’t mess up the lyrics or the rhythm. They were certain of that.
“At least we’ve completed the mission,” Zheng Xiao exhaled in relief.
With the performance over, they could finally leave. Since they had arrived together, they naturally left together. As soon as they got in the car, Zheng Xiao pulled out his phone to check the real-time Spring Festival Gala discussions online and see how their performance was being received.
The moment he opened the homepage, the top trending topic was “Terrible.”
Slumped in the backseat just moments ago, Zheng Xiao immediately sat up straight. “They’re not talking about us, right?”
Lu Xu and Shao Yao silently picked up their phones as well.
“Let me check—let’s all look together.”
Clicking into the #Terrible# tag, Zheng Xiao scrolled through a dozen posts. None of them specifically mentioned their names. He let out a small sigh of relief.
Just to be safe, he also searched for their initials—ZX, SY, and LX—but luckily, nothing came up.
Honestly, the way netizens came up with nicknames these days was on another level. He still had no idea who “Twenty-Seven Heads Tall” and “Celibate Man” referred to, despite all the time he spent surfing the internet.
But… considering all three of them were over 180 cm tall, surely they weren’t the ones being called “Twenty-Seven Heads Tall,” right?
At first, Zheng Xiao didn’t understand what that nickname meant. After a deep dive online, he finally learned that “Nine Heads Tall” was a term for the golden body proportion, while “Twenty-Seven Heads” meant someone’s head was three times larger than average—basically, the camera zoomed in so much that only their head was visible.
As for “Celibate Man,” it was apparently a term for a celebrity with an overwhelming amount of… well, physical appeal.
Since the #Terrible# tag didn’t include them, Zheng Xiao started searching their full names instead. To his surprise, the online feedback on their performance was much better than he had expected.
[It’s understandable that actors don’t have top-tier vocals, but at the very least, they should have the right attitude. They need to remember the lyrics, engage with the audience, and convey emotion. The Mountain Bike Trio’s performance was basically a textbook example of how to do it right.]
[Why do some people stay popular for years while others lose their hype the moment they get a little fame? The answer is right here.]
[My favorite performance tonight was by the Mountain Bike Trio. Maybe it’s because I had zero expectations, so the outcome was a total surprise. Or maybe… it’s just that Lu Xu is too handsome, and I got completely mesmerized.]
[LMAO upstairs! Honestly, I also only checked out the Mountain Bike Trio’s stage because of their looks. But the performance turned out to be a thousand times better than I expected! Lu Puppy and his dog friends did amazing!]
[Seriously, my standards are low—I just need a performance to be listenable. But some acts can’t even meet that bar. They’re just… bad.]
After browsing through more comments, the three of them suddenly realized that their performance had actually been one of the highest-rated segments of the night. In terms of viewership peaks, their stage stood out, especially compared to other singing and dancing acts.
One particular moment during the performance had drawn a lot of attention—when the three of them sang a certain line, their eyes all welled up at the same time. This frame had been screenshotted and widely shared by marketing accounts.
[Can we just invite guest performers based on the Mountain Bike Trio’s standard from now on? Yes? Great.]
[Such a sincere performance! Ahhhhhh, every TV network better take notes—these three are guaranteed to bring in ratings! Pay whatever it takes to book them!]
The TV networks: “……”
Objectively speaking, it wasn’t that the networks didn’t want to invite Lu Xu and his group.
The idea of a “Mountain Bike Trio Reunion” had been attempted by various TV networks before. Whether it was for singing competition shows or travel variety programs, they all knew that bringing the three of them together would guarantee great results. No matter how high the appearance fees were, the networks were willing to pay.
However, scheduling conflicts were one issue, and more importantly, the three of them simply weren’t that eager to reunite.
By now, Lu Xu had reached a level where he had full control over what he wanted to do or not do. His agency rarely interfered with his decisions.
The networks had already shown enough sincerity, but since none of the three were interested, there was nothing they could do.
Yet, after watching the Spring Festival Gala and seeing the massive buzz the Mountain Bike Trio generated, the TV networks couldn’t help but feel tempted again.
If the three of them could reunite for the Spring Festival Gala, then maybe—just maybe—they could reunite for other shows too, right?
Even though most entertainment agencies were on holiday at the moment, TV executives still quietly reached out to the higher-ups at the trio’s management companies to inquire about their interest in variety shows.
Even if they didn’t agree now, there would always be a chance in the future.
…
As soon as the Spring Festival Gala’s viewership ratings were released, Xu Wen immediately informed Lu Xu that his variety show invitations had doubled overnight.
And the fees? Well… those had doubled too.
But Lu Xu simply shook his head firmly. “Forget it. I’d rather focus on acting.”
Right now, he only had one unreleased project, Observing the Stars at Night, and there was still no word on when it would air.
Lu Xu felt like he had spent the past few years as a hardworking old ox, dedicating most of his time to filming on set. Yet, no matter how many dramas or movies he completed, the industry released them much slower than he could film them.
As a result, every year, Lu Xu always had the same feeling—it seemed like he had nothing waiting to be aired.
He had been working tirelessly on film sets, practically moving from one production to the next without a break.
In short, as he kept filming, his backlog of unreleased projects kept dwindling.
“If things keep going like this, and I take on variety shows too, I might not even have a single project waiting to be released in a year,” Lu Xu sighed. “And good scripts are getting harder and harder to find.”
He was extremely cautious and slow when choosing scripts. He didn’t want to rush into a project on impulse, only to regret it later—whether due to dissatisfaction with the script or issues with co-stars. It was better to eliminate all potential problems from the start.
That said, since he had worked with many directors and attended various film festivals, he had met quite a few industry insiders. These connections had significantly increased his access to high-quality scripts.
Lu Xu had entered the film industry through Deception without much forethought or preparation. Looking back, he felt his transition into movies had been surprisingly smooth, but he attributed it mostly to luck.
Movies like Deception, Feather of Youth, and Reverse City—which had the advantage of a renowned director—were all the kind of films that struggled to achieve box office success.
While discussing his upcoming work schedule with Xu Wen, Xu Wen suddenly asked, “Have you heard? Liu Rennong is working on a new film.”
Lu Xu immediately lowered his crossed leg and leaned in. “Tell me more.”
…
In a way, his only sources of industry gossip were Xu Wen and Zheng Xiao.
Despite being in the entertainment industry himself, Lu Xu often felt out of the loop compared to others when it came to celebrity rumors and industry buzz.
He had the renowned directors Mu Lang and Miao Zhi as WeChat contacts, and he was certain that if anyone knew all the behind-the-scenes gossip, it would be them.
But there was no way he could ask them about something like this—he could already imagine the judgmental emojis they would send in response.
“Why is he suddenly making a film again?” Lu Xu asked. “I thought he was half-retired from the industry.”
“Public pressure,” Xu Wen replied. “All those rumors circulating online recently—he can’t just suppress them with paid trending topics and PR campaigns. He needs actual work to salvage his reputation. After all, the audience isn’t part of the industry; they won’t give him a pass just because of his status.”
“Besides, what he’s involved in isn’t exactly a minor issue. The audience might not have concrete evidence, and the authorities may not be able to investigate him, but that doesn’t mean he won’t get a warning.” Xu Wen glanced at Lu Xu. “The controversy surrounding film screenings didn’t just affect a few movies—it damaged public trust in the film industry as a whole. Movies are a business, not Liu Rennong’s personal enterprise. If audiences lose faith, who’s going to pay to watch films?”
“As for the project itself, there aren’t many details yet. But Liu Rennong did mention that he wants to invite you to collaborate with him.”
“Me?” Lu Xu made a disgusted face. “Can’t he ask someone else? Doesn’t his studio have its own signed actors?”
He had absolutely no desire to work with Liu Rennong.
“What if the script is good?”
“Forget it.” Lu Xu shrugged. “There are plenty of actors out there. And with so many directors in the industry, I don’t have to work with just anyone.”
To be honest, in terms of looks, Liu Rennong ranked among the most handsome directors in the industry, which had boosted his reputation. He had the combination of good looks, talent, and a gentle personality—completely different from those directors who enjoyed berating actors or criticizing audiences.
But the man’s character was questionable.
Lu Xu couldn’t stand being in the same room with someone so fake. Even in the shortest production cycle, a film took at least three to four months to shoot. And knowing Liu Rennong’s obsession with “perfection”, filming with him would probably drag on for a solid six months.
