Chapter 225: Five Cups Dog
After the Contention Award came to an end, Lu Xu returned to his peaceful life. He was regularly followed by paparazzi, and after winning the award, the frequency of their surveillance increased slightly. However, Lu Xu had already grown accustomed to being photographed during his rest periods, so their presence hardly affected him.
To some extent, the paparazzi never really captured anything noteworthy about him—just his daily activities like riding his bike, buying snacks downstairs, or strolling by the river. Over time, even his fans lost interest in these mundane photos, let alone paying money for them.
Lu Xu indeed did not participate in the Golden Flame Awards. The marketing accounts hyped up this matter for quite some time, but the real embarrassment did not fall on Lu Xu himself. Surprisingly, the mockery directed at the Golden Flame Awards was no less than when Fearless Life had suffered a setback.
While audiences could still be influenced, they were no longer as easily deceived as before.
Skipping the Golden Flame Awards, Clay Man was nominated as expected for this year’s Critics’ Choice Awards, which, unsurprisingly, bestowed its major honors upon the film’s production team.
By this point, the Critics’ Choice Awards had become widely recognized as the second most prestigious among the three major awards. Although the Golden Flame Awards still held the title of being one of the “Big Three,” it had clearly lost its credibility.
Later on, despite numerous attempts by the Golden Flame Awards to recover its reputation, the damage was irreversible. Even the renowned directors who personally stepped in to help restore the award’s prestige failed to make much of an impact, and in the end, the Golden Flame Awards completely fell apart.
Many had already predicted this outcome when the committee appointed Liu Rennong as the jury president. At the time, some prominent directors even tried to persuade the Golden Flame Awards’ committee to reconsider, but unfortunately, they refused to listen.
However, as the saying goes, “when a whale falls, all things thrive.” With the collapse of the Golden Flame Awards, the industry redirected its resources toward newer, emerging awards, significantly boosting their influence and recognition.
Of course, many in the industry believed that Lu Xu played a key role in the rapid downfall of the Golden Flame Awards.
Everything had started with Fearless Life.
At first, people assumed that Lu Xu’s career would suffer after offending the Golden Flame Awards. Instead, his success only skyrocketed.
“A case of Lu Xu’s metaphysical luck.”
“The real fall of the Golden Flame Awards… I never imagined it would come to this. It used to be a stage for A-list actresses and haute couture everywhere. People would fight tooth and nail just for a nomination. But now? The awards ceremony looks no different from a small-town talent show.”
That year, due to Lu Xu and Clay Man’s influence, the Golden Flame Awards still received some attention. However, in the following years, whenever Lu Xu—their main rival—was absent, the Golden Flame Awards faded into irrelevance. As its once-bright star power dimmed, so did public interest.
The year Fearless Life failed to win Best Actor and Best Director, the Golden Flame Awards committee released a special statement, explaining that the awards had attracted too much attention. They claimed, “We don’t want popularity to ruin everything,” “We’re trying to return to the original intent of the awards,” and “An award shouldn’t receive excessive attention.”
In a way, they had achieved their goal.
…
For Lu Xu, his current frustration was that every media report about him attached a long string of titles to his name—things like “20 Billion Box Office Film Emperor.” Meanwhile, his detractors took it a step further and dubbed him “Five Cups.”
Lu Xu: “…What, five cups of noodles?”
Some even called him “Five Cups Dog.”
“My build isn’t ‘Five Cups Dog,’” he remarked. “It should be ‘Five Basins Dog.’”
“Five Buckets Dog works too.” Xu Wen was thoroughly impressed by Lu Xu. With Lu Xu’s ability to rationalize things in his own way, he would probably never need therapy in his lifetime.
The nickname “Five Cups” naturally referred to the five Best Actor trophies Lu Xu had won so far. His detractors conveniently left out the Sunset Film Festival, to which Lu Xu responded by saying that the festival’s standing wasn’t high enough to even be considered.
Xu Wen: “…Fine, fine, whatever you say.”
He had truly given up on trying to argue with Lu Xu.
The reason people used this title for Lu Xu was simple—there was nothing left to criticize about him. The only thing they could do was mock him for looking “too smug when winning awards.”
Just a few days ago, a reporter from Film magazine had visited Lu Xu’s home for a photoshoot, capturing all the trophies he had accumulated over the years.
The five Best Actor trophies were undoubtedly the centerpiece, but besides those, Lu Xu had won dozens of other awards. Fans who saw the photos couldn’t help but feel a sense of amazement—”You don’t know until you see it, and once you do, it’s shocking.”
Moreover, every trophy he showcased was from a prestigious award, covering both television and film. The collection was so packed that unless you zoomed in, the individual trophies’ shapes were hard to distinguish.
A celebrity could receive countless trophies over their career, especially when they were at their peak. Simply attending events could earn them one or two awards. But those trophies often carried little weight—unlike the ones Lu Xu had won, which were undeniably significant.
Lu Xu had merely displayed his awards normally, yet to some people, that was considered showing off.
[The real shame is, looking at the entire entertainment industry, you’d be hard-pressed to find trophies with higher prestige than Lu Xu’s.]
[Lu Xu isn’t showing off—it’s just that you don’t have any. And at his current rate, these definitely won’t be his last ones. There will be many more to come.]
Lu Xu accepted his mocking nickname, mainly because it was so roundabout and obscure that unless someone had spent years immersed in gossip forums, they wouldn’t even associate it with him.
#TooManyTrophiesIsMyFault#
#Sorry#
After this year’s awards season, Lu Xu helped promote a film by another artist under Feiyang Entertainment. As for his own next project, he was still in the process of selecting one.
Although he received many scripts, very few truly excited him. Some he kept for further consideration, but after much deliberation, he still chose not to take them.
It wasn’t that he had become more cautious about choosing roles after winning awards—it was simply that scripts that genuinely intrigued him were rare.
He could act in them, sure, but he didn’t feel challenged by them.
Lu Xu still had a passion for filmmaking, but with some scripts… he could already foresee his enthusiasm being worn down if he accepted them.
After about a week of rest, Xu Wen brought him a new job offer—an invitation to join a film-related variety show.
Lu Xu wouldn’t need to serve as a judge, nor would he have to demonstrate his acting process on screen. The show was a cinematic travel documentary, taking viewers on a journey to visit iconic filming locations from classic movies.
The featured films included Observing the Stars at Night and Fearless Life. Though the two films had vastly different settings, each had its own unique charm, making them worth showcasing to the audience.
Of course, Observing the Stars at Night and Fearless Life were the most recent films on the list. The oldest film being featured dated all the way back to the 1960s.
“What about the cast?” Lu Xu asked.
“Mostly young actors,” Xu Wen replied.
Lu Xu immediately caught Xu Wen’s underlying message—his manager was implying that he would be the oldest among the cast.
Compared to previous variety shows, the pay for this one was indeed lower. However, the show’s purpose was to take audiences on a cinematic journey, allowing them to appreciate films more deeply through the landscapes along the way.
Lu Xu wasn’t short on money. When Xu Wen selected jobs for him now, he prioritized those that aligned with Lu Xu’s stature in the industry, choosing only the most suitable projects. A lower paycheck didn’t really matter.
Having worked together for so many years, Xu Wen was one of the rare managers in the entertainment industry who had never been criticized by fans. Though some of Lu Xu’s past film choices had been questioned, those same projects had later brought unexpected success—both at the box office and in awards recognition.
Fans familiar with Lu Xu knew that he and Xu Wen had a clear division of labor. Everything outside of acting was handled by his manager, allowing Lu Xu the freedom to fully immerse himself in his craft.
Moreover, Xu Wen was highly reliable. As a veteran manager, he never pushed Lu Xu into questionable collaborations just to keep him busy. He would rather let Lu Xu have downtime than accept messy, ill-fitting projects.
Lu Xu had almost no scandals. Beyond his relatively simple private life, this was also because he was rarely entangled in commercial disputes. Xu Wen placed great emphasis on brand reputation—just as brands evaluated Lu Xu, his team also evaluated them before agreeing to any endorsements.
On top of that, his manager shielded him from the internal politics of Feiyang Entertainment. In the industry, many artists had suffered at the hands of their own agencies, but Xu Wen knew Feiyang’s operations inside and out. Anytime the higher-ups came up with plans that could be detrimental to Lu Xu, Xu Wen blocked them before they could take effect.
Xu Wen didn’t update his Weibo often, but whenever he logged in and saw fan messages, he responded to as many as he could.
Lu Xu was responsible for the arguments, while Xu Wen’s account functioned as Lu Xu’s official page—strictly work-related, free of sarcasm, and never stirring up drama.
Since Lu Xu was the celebrity, Xu Wen left the interactions with fans entirely up to him, a decision that fans greatly appreciated.
Everyone knew that when a manager personally got involved, it usually escalated fan outrage. And if the manager was unprofessional—like Qi Di’s former manager—it would only bring more trouble to the artist.
Given how well Lu Xu and Xu Wen had worked together over the years—without a single major conflict—and how Lu Xu’s career had consistently soared without setbacks, fans were convinced that they would continue working together indefinitely. Many even believed Xu Wen would be the only manager Lu Xu ever had in his acting career.
…
After accepting the variety show offer, Lu Xu didn’t hear much about it for a long time. Then one day, he found out that Zheng Xiao and Shao Yao had also joined the show.
[…Why didn’t either of you tell me?] he asked.
[I just found out myself,] Zheng Xiao replied. [I saw your name on the list today.]
Lu Xu looked satisfied. [Then I’m not the oldest one.]
In shows like this, the oldest participant was often assigned the role of team leader.
Although he, Shao Yao, and Zheng Xiao were around the same age, Lu Xu had little confidence in his leadership abilities.
After receiving the full cast list, Lu Xu realized why the three of them had all been invited—this variety show had exclusively recruited young film actors.
In reality, there weren’t that many actors who had successfully established themselves in the film industry. If the goal was to promote cinema, they at least needed to invite people with notable works under their belt.
That said, in this group, they were definitely among the older ones. Though in the grand scheme of the film industry, they were still considered representatives of the younger generation.
…
Lu Yiyang was one of the young actors participating in Light and Shadow Journey.
His agency had solid resources in the film industry and managed a large roster of artists. Lu Yiyang had been particularly lucky—while other actors from his company starred in films that only gained moderate attention, the two he had been in had both become surprise hits. As a result, he was being promoted as the company’s rising star, enjoying far more exposure than his peers.
When his manager first signed him up for this variety show, Lu Yiyang hadn’t thought much of it. The agency hadn’t emphasized its importance, and since Light and Shadow Journey was a brand-new show with no prior success to reference, he saw it as just another job.
Typically, celebrities preferred to join established shows in their later seasons. Even if the hype wasn’t as high as before, pre-release buzz alone would guarantee more visibility than an entirely new program.
But now… Lu Yiyang had seen the full cast list.
And there, among the names, was Lu Xu.
Yes, that Lu Xu—the one who practically mass-produced awards and box office hits.
The last time Lu Xu had joined a variety show… was the last time he had ever joined a variety show.
Over the years, Lu Xu had juggled both dramas and films, yet the number of variety shows he had participated in could be counted on one hand.
There was no doubt that the moment Light and Shadow Journey released its first teaser, the trending topics would explode.
Lu Yiyang, of course, wanted to rise to fame. But being on the same show as Lu Xu? That was going to be a lot of pressure.
