Chapter 225: 225 Five Cups of Dog

Chapter 225: Five-Cup Dog

After the Contention Award wrapped up, Lu Xu returned to his peaceful routine. He was often followed by paparazzi, and after winning the award, the chances of being tailed increased slightly. However, Lu Xu had gotten used to the cameras during his downtime, so the paparazzi’s antics hardly affected him at all.

To some extent, they never caught anything interesting—just his daily routines like cycling, buying snacks downstairs, or strolling along the riverside. Over time, even fans grew tired of such photos, much less shell out money for them.

Lu Xu indeed didn’t attend the Golden Flame Awards. Clickbait accounts milked this for a while, but the awkwardness wasn’t on Lu Xu’s side—the Golden Flame Awards received just as much ridicule as when *Fearless Life* lost.

Though audiences were easily swayed, they weren’t as gullible as before.

After skipping the Golden Flame Awards, the *Dough Figurine* crew naturally made it into this year’s Critics’ Awards, which unsurprisingly handed one of its major prizes to *Dough Figurine*. By then, the Critics’ Awards was cemented as the second most prestigious among the top three awards. The Golden Flame Awards, though still bearing the “Big Three” title, was clearly a shell of its former self.

Despite various attempts to salvage its reputation, the Golden Flame Awards couldn’t recover the prestige it had lost. Even big-name directors who stepped in specifically for the event failed to make a real impact. In the end, the Golden Flame Awards went down in flames.

This was something many had predicted when Liu Rennong was chosen as Jury President. At the time, well-known directors had tried to advise the Golden Flame Awards committee, but their warnings were ignored outright.

As the saying goes, “When one whale falls, a thousand creatures thrive.” With the Golden Flame Awards’ downfall, the industry poured its energy into newer awards, boosting their influence and visibility.

Of course, many in the industry believed Lu Xu was a key catalyst behind the Golden Flame Awards’ rapid collapse.

It all started with *Fearless Life*.

At first, people thought Lu Xu would struggle after offending the Golden Flame Awards, but instead, his career kept rising.

“The Lu Xu Effect.”

“The real fall of the Golden Flame Awards—I never imagined it would get to this point. Back then, A-listers like dahuā were showing up, haute couture everywhere, nominees fighting tooth and nail for trophies. Now? The Golden Flame Awards might as well be a podunk talent show.”

That awards season, thanks to Lu Xu and *Dough Figurine*, the Golden Flame Awards still got some attention. But in later years, whenever Lu Xu—their nemesis—wasn’t there, the event might as well not have existed. As its star power faded, the Golden Flame Awards became a laughingstock.

That year, when *Fearless Life* missed Best Actor and Best Director, the Golden Flame Awards committee scrambled to justify it, claiming the awards had become too sensationalized—“We don’t want hype to ruin everything,” “We want to return to our original mission,” “An award shouldn’t attract too much attention.”

In a way, they succeeded.

…

For Lu Xu, one current annoyance was how the media tagged him with endless titles—like “Two-Time Billion-Dollar Star.” Haters took it further, calling him “Five Cups.”

Lu Xu: “…Five cups of *what*?”

Some even called him “Five-Cup Dog.”

“Given my size, it should be ‘Five-Tub Dog.’”

“Or ‘Five-Bucket Dog,’” Xu Wen chimed in, shaking his head. He could only laugh at Lu Xu’s ability to roll with the punches. With that kind of mental toughness, Lu Xu would never need therapy.

The nickname referred to the five Best Actor trophies he’d won so far. Haters deliberately excluded the Sunset Film Festival, which Lu Xu mocked as too small-time to count.

Xu Wen: “…Sure, sure.”

He had to hand it to him.

The reason for the nickname was simple—Lu Xu was basically bulletproof. There was nothing real to criticize, so haters had to gripe about his “trophy-hoarding grin.”

A few days earlier, a reporter from *Film* magazine visited Lu Xu’s home for a shoot. All of his trophies were in frame.

The five Best Actor awards were obviously the highlights, but altogether, Lu Xu had a shelf’s worth of hardware. Fans who saw the photos were floored—“It hits different when you see the whole haul.”

Moreover, the awards Lu Xu posted were all legitimate ones, covering both TV and film. They were packed so tightly in the frame that without zooming in, the outlines of the trophies were barely visible.

A celebrity may receive countless trophies in their lifetime, especially during their peak years—attending events often means walking away with something. But these awards come too easily. At the very least, the ones Lu Xu has earned hold real value.

Lu Xu simply posted his trophies normally, yet some labeled it as bragging.

"Unfortunately, across the entire entertainment industry, you’d be hard-pressed to find more prestigious awards than the ones Lu Xu holds."

"Lu Xu isn’t showing off—you just don’t have any… At his rate, this probably won’t be his last. There will be many more to come."

Lu Xu accepted his infamous nickname, mainly because it was so convoluted that unless someone had spent years immersed in gossip forums, they wouldn’t even associate it with him.

#TooManyTrophiesMyBad

#Sorry

After this year’s awards season, Lu Xu promoted a film by another artist under Feiyang Entertainment while still weighing his options for his next project.

Though numerous scripts came his way, rarely did one catch his eye. Some he held onto but ultimately passed on after hesitation.

It wasn’t that he was being more selective post-awards—it was simply that hardly any scripts sparked his interest.

He could still take on roles, but Lu Xu didn’t feel challenged by them.

His passion for filmmaking remained, but with certain scripts… taking them on could’ve killed his passion.

After about a week’s rest, Xu Wen pitched him a new gig—an invitation to a film-themed variety show.

Lu Xu wouldn’t serve as a judge or demonstrate acting techniques. Instead, the show was a movie-themed trip, introducing audiences to legendary shooting spots from classic films.

Among the films featured were *Night Sky Observations* and *Fearless Life*, each filmed in unique locations worth sharing with viewers.

Of course, these two were the newest additions, with the oldest film dating back to the ’60s.

"Who else is on the lineup?" Lu Xu asked.

"Mostly younger actors."

Lu Xu caught Xu Wen’s implication—the agent was hinting he’d be the senior member.

Compared to previous variety show offers, this one didn’t pay much. But the show’s mission was to get audiences to fall deeper for movies through scenic backdrops.

Lu Xu wasn’t in it for the money. Xu Wen now prioritized roles that matched his stature, even if the pay was lower.

Having worked together for years, Xu Wen was one of the rare agents in the industry never dragged by fans. Even when earlier script choices drew complaints, those projects ended up overdelivering for Lu Xu—both in box office returns and awards.

Fans familiar with Lu Xu knew he and Xu Wen had clear roles: the agent took care of everything off-camera, granting Lu Xu the freedom to fully immerse himself in performances.

Xu Wen never cut corners, maintaining the professionalism of a seasoned agent. He’d sooner let Lu Xu sit idle than take on questionable collaborations.

Lu Xu had almost no drama—thanks to his low-key personal life, and also because Xu Wen shielded him from commercial entanglements. The agent valued brand integrity, vetting brands as hard as they vetted him.

Beyond that, Xu Wen also buffered Lu Xu from internal politics at Feiyang Entertainment. In the industry, many artists suffer under mismanagement, but Xu Wen knew Feiyang’s workings too well—he shut down any shady executive moves targeting Lu Xu fast.

Though Xu Wen rarely updated his Weibo, he made an effort to reply to fan messages whenever possible.

Lu Xu handled the drama; his account functioned as an official channel, strictly professional—no sarcasm, no stirring the pot.

Lu Xu was the star, and Xu Wen left fan interactions to him—a dynamic fans appreciated.

As is well known, when a manager gets personally involved, it often sends fans into a rage. And if the manager is unprofessional—like Qi Di's former one—it only makes the star look bad.

Given that Lu Xu and Xu Wen have collaborated smoothly over the years—never even having an argument—and with Lu Xu’s career on a steady rise without any major setbacks, fans believe they’ll likely continue working together indefinitely. Xu Wen could well be the only manager Lu Xu ever needs in his acting career.

...

After Lu Xu accepted the reality show invitation, he didn't find out until much later that Zheng Xiao and Shao Yao had also signed on: "...Why didn’t any of you tell me?"

"I just found out today—I saw your name on the list."

Lu Xu was relieved: "Then I’m not the oldest anymore."

Going by the standard formula of such shows, the eldest participant is usually made team captain.

Though their ages were fairly similar, Lu Xu still lacked confidence in taking on that role.

After seeing the full cast list, Lu Xu realized why all three of them had been invited—they were rounding up young film actors, and there weren’t actually that many who had firmly established themselves in the movie industry. If the show aimed to promote cinema, they needed at least some actors with hits to their name.

Still, Lu Xu and his peers were among the veterans in this group, though within the broader film industry, they were still considered representatives of the younger generation.

...

Lv Yiyang was one of the young actors participating in the *Light and Shadow Journey* reality show.

His agency has strong connections in the film industry and represents many artists. Lv Yiyang was especially lucky—while others from his company starred in films that barely made a splash, the two he appeared in turned into breakout hits. As a result, he became the agency's golden boy, receiving far more exposure than his peers.

When his manager applied for this show, Lv Yiyang wasn’t particularly interested—until he saw the full list of participants.

Until then, he had seen *Light and Shadow Journey* as just another gig. His manager hadn’t emphasized its importance, and since it was a new program with no track record, it wasn’t exactly prestigious.

Celebrities usually prefer joining later seasons of successful shows—even if the hype doesn’t generate the same buzz as the earlier ones, the pre-launch attention alone surpasses that of most new programs.

But now… he saw Lu Xu’s name on the list.

The very Lu Xu known for racking up awards and box office success.

The last time Lu Xu did a reality show was practically ancient history.

In recent years, between dramas and films, he’d appeared in so few variety shows that you could count them on one hand.

Just the release of *Light and Shadow Journey*'s teaser would probably break the internet.

Of course, Lv Yiyang wants to become famous—but being on the same show as Lu Xu brings immense pressure.