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The entertainment industry is a bizarre vanity fair; once you're in it, you can never escape the pull of fame and fortune.
But within this circle, there are all kinds of people. Some chase fame desperately, trying every trick to stay relevant, hyping themselves up, staging publicity stunts, manipulating trends, doing everything possible to stay in the spotlight. Yet, their efforts often end in mediocrity, or they enjoy fleeting success that quickly fades.
Then there are others who stay quiet, grounded, and serious about their work, and somehow, they always remain firmly in the public eye without resorting to noise or scandal.
On June 12, the Original Sound Chart released its new rankings for the second week of June.
Chen Fei'er's song "Flower Woman", the title track of her hit new album that had held the #1 position for six consecutive weeks, was finally dethroned, slipping down to third place.
Replacing it were two new songs:
"With You Forever" – second place.
"Childhood" – first place!
Both songs were Lu Chen's works, leading people to joke that the Original Sound Chart had turned into a "couple's internal duel."
What left industry insiders speechless, though, was that "With You Forever" had been a love song Lu Chen gifted to Chen Fei'er on May 20 (520, China's unofficial Valentine's Day), while "Childhood" was a new song he'd casually performed live on Rising Star Show, with no promotion, no marketing, and no PR campaign at all. It rose to the top purely through word of mouth and the enthusiastic support of fans.
That… was hard for many in the industry to swallow.
Quite a few people were genuinely upset, especially the independent musicians struggling at the lower end of the charts.
In their eyes, losing to Chen Fei'er's "Flower Woman," a track from a million-selling album, was understandable. But losing to Lu Chen's so-called casual project? That stung.
Many indie artists pour their hearts out creating singles and albums, begging sponsors and media for exposure, attending every event possible to promote their work, yet still can't even crack the Original Sound Chart.
Meanwhile, Lu Chen just tosses out a song, and it soars straight to the top.
How could they not feel frustrated?
Was there really no other pop songwriter in China who could compete with Lu Chen anymore?
To be fair, though, it was precisely because of Lu Chen's rise that the domestic pop scene had revived its original spirit since last year. His success pushed both stars and entertainment agencies to revalue original works and give songwriters the respect (and pay) they deserved.
Currently, Lu Chen's per-song quote sat between 500,000 and 700,000 yuan, and even at that rate, his schedules were full, easily surpassing the fees once commanded by top-tier composers. His success indirectly elevated the entire status and market value of original music in China.
Following his example, the income of many domestic songwriters had risen significantly, a positive development for the entire industry. Because in the end, as the saying goes: money isn't everything, but without money, nothing gets done.
Renowned music critic Wang Bo wrote in his blog:
"The wave of original folk-pop music led by Lu Chen is undoubtedly the brightest highlight in Chinese original music these past two years. The campus-folk style he pioneered is like a refreshing breeze sweeping through the pop scene, it has rekindled our hope and faith in the future of Chinese popular music."
Speaking specifically about "Childhood", which had just topped the Original Sound Chart, Wang Bo continued:
"This is one of Lu Chen's finest works. Listening to it evokes a gentle ache, nostalgia for the years gone by, for the innocence of childhood we can never return to.
As we grow older, we learn to compromise with life. The memory of our times fades, yet childhood always remains somewhere deep within the heart. This song awakens those memories.
It's a song from a mature man reflecting on the dreams of his youth. Simple, lovely, and tinged with melancholy, the kind of song that makes you smile softly, even as you feel that faint sadness of letting go.
I dare say that 'Childhood' transcends eras and generations. It will live on in the hearts of everyone who cherishes their inner child, destined to become a true classic."
Wang Bo wasn't just any random critic. Besides being a respected music commentator, he was also a board member of the Chinese Musicians' Association, the very organization that had founded and managed the Original Sound Chart.
At the time, rumors were spreading that the chart's upcoming rule changes were being made specifically to curb Lu Chen's dominance. So Wang Bo's blog post, appearing right at that moment, felt especially meaningful.
After being published on the Langchao Blog platform, the post went viral, shared thousands of times, with tens of thousands of comments flooding in.
And quietly, almost imperceptibly, Lu Chen's standing in the Chinese pop music world rose to yet another level.
Because Wang Bo was seen as representing an official stance, his words carried real weight, even though Lu Chen himself had not yet joined the Chinese Musicians' Association (CMA).
Considering that this year, the Asian Chinese Music Awards and the Chinese Original Music Chart Awards were merging and being upgraded into the Global Chinese Music Awards, things became even more interesting.
Lu Chen was now undoubtedly a top contender for several major categories, including Best Lyrics, Best Composition, and Best Male Singer in the Chinese-language music scene.
At the same time, his second TV drama was also scheduled to air during the upcoming summer season, ready to meet audiences across the country.
This multitalented rising star, with brilliance spanning music, television, and writing, had everyone eager to see what new brilliance he would deliver in the latter half of the year.
Yet while all eyes in the entertainment industry were focused on Lu Chen's songs and TV drama, a lesser-known side of him was quietly at work online, under a pseudonym.
The novel The Smiling, Proud Wanderer, which he was serializing under the pen name "Recalling Ancient Times," continued to update steadily on Langchao Reading.
Once the word count passed 120,000 characters, a reader named Wang Pu had already become one of its most devoted fans.
Every day after finishing his shift, Wang Pu's first stop at the internet café was to log in to Langchao Reading, open the newest chapter of The Smiling, Proud Wanderer, and discuss it enthusiastically with fellow readers who loved the story as much as he did.
As a hardcore fan, Wang Pu really wanted to get to know the author "Recalling Ancient Times." He left messages under chapter reviews and even sent private messages through the platform, hoping to add the author's WeChat to chat about the plot.
But his messages were never answered. The author was extremely low-profile, never asking for recommendations, likes, or favorites; never replying to comments; and never managing the review section. Even the updates seemed to follow a precise routine, exactly two chapters per day, always posted at the same time.
Since he couldn't reach the author directly, Wang Pu decided to take matters into his own hands. He created a WeChat group for The Smiling, Proud Wanderer and invited fellow fans from his other Old Bai group who also enjoyed the book.
Thanks to his efforts, the novel's stats improved noticeably, its clicks surpassed 10,000, favorites reached over 500, and genuine reviews began to outweigh spam and generic "copy-paste" comments.
Even so, the book was still considered a "flop" in online fiction terms, underperforming despite its quality.
Wang Pu was unwilling to accept that. He stubbornly believed that The Smiling, Proud Wanderer deserved to be read by far more people, that it shouldn't be buried among the flood of mediocre new releases.
So he organized a small "promotion campaign" among the group members, what the web novel community jokingly called "(ad-spamming)".
It was simple: they'd write short, catchy ad posts or mini-reviews, then use different user IDs to post them across popular book comment sections, novel forums, and message boards.
This kind of behavior, nicknamed "scrubbing like moss" (literally "posting like wall mold"), was something Wang Pu had once despised.
But for the sake of The Smiling, Proud Wanderer, he was willing to swallow his pride.
Because he wasn't doing it for clout, he was doing it as a true fan.
(End of Chapter)