~"Even if my light is faint, I want to shine for someone lost in the dark." ~
Hard to believe, but even three- or four-year-old kids in Japan can speak fluent Japanese... Ahem, alright, that part doesn't really matter. What matters is—the comment section exploded.
Rumors often start off simple, but the more they're passed around, the more fantastical they become. The legend of Chu Zhi's life began with Japanese netizens making up stories.
Just imagine it. A soul trapped in the abyss, yet still dragging itself to the torii gate, knocking until the gods open the shrine and let it in for a baptism. That alone would be stirring enough, but then imagine the man is absurdly handsome on top of it.
"He has to take meds every day just to stay stable? I can't even imagine... No wonder his singing sounds so full of despair."
"I heard about Chu Zhi before the concert. I thought he was just another Chinese idol, the same as Korean stars, all pretty faces selling illusions to girls. I figured the only difference was maybe Chu Zhi's face was even more perfect. But after hearing that song today—I get it now. He's not like them. There's depth, attitude, gentleness. This is what a real star from China looks like. Not like those Korean copycats with no soul."
"I was diagnosed with depression half a year ago. I know how much courage it takes just to stand on stage and sing."
"Because you exist, I've found a little more reason to keep going."
"How can someone like Chu-san exist in this world? He lives in the gutter, yet still finds a way to bring others light."
From the "Like Smoke" music video to Koguchi Yoshihiro's concert, to this most recent live performance—Chu Zhi's popularity had finally erupted.
Even anti-Chinese trolls tried to attack him for his nationality, but that didn't matter. On a smaller scale, Chu Zhi was the poster boy for FourStar Entertainment. On a larger one, he was the Ministry of Education and Culture's distraction for the botched Hokkaido rescue response.
If America has political correctness, Japan has what people call "official correctness." And in this case, official correctness couldn't stop Chu Zhi from becoming a national sensation. Just like it couldn't stop the K-pop wave from entering the music scene.
Japan doesn't have Korean-style fan clubs, but communities like Mixi—similar to Tieba—now had active Chu Zhi discussion groups. In just half a day, over a hundred thousand users had joined in.
[Last week's "foreign celebrity I most want to marry," I can't believe I didn't vote for Melty-san. If I could redo it, I'd vote for him without hesitation.]
[Are there other songs by him I can listen to? I want to know more.]
[That sculpted face, why hasn't any director cast him in a film yet?]
[He's exactly my type. Like a piece of delicate, perfect crystal—beautiful and fragile.]
In Japanese, Chu Zhi's name phonetically sounds like "Hyuuzu," which also means "fuse" or "circuit breaker." So Japanese fans started calling him the "fuse that stops people from ending their lives." The nickname "Melty" or "Melty-san" became a sweet way of referring to him.
You can underestimate the Japanese government. You can underestimate their bureaucrats. But you should never underestimate Japanese entrepreneurs.
Even Korean businesspeople know how to chase trends. So of course, the Japanese weren't far behind. While the internet was still ablaze, some companies had already sent endorsement offers to Chu Zhi's team. These were tentative, low-paying deals, but they were a start.
While some people in Japan were grumbling, people in China were celebrating.
One of them was Che Lun, vice president of iQIYI and producer-director of Journey Among the Stars. At that moment, he was absolutely delighted.
The sudden natural disaster had hit iQIYI's revenue hard, and profits had taken a dive. But just days ago, Tokyo Broadcasting System (TBS) called to offer 30 million yen for exclusive broadcast rights to Journey Among the Stars in Japan.
Tokyo Broadcasting System and TV Tokyo may sound alike and have their own rivalry, but they're not the same network.
"We ordinary folk have reason to smile today," Che Lun grinned. "They wanted to pay 30 million yen before. Back then I thought, who the hell do you think I am?"
"Tokyo TV also sent a bid, right?" he asked his assistant, Xiao Tang.
Sure enough, with Chu Zhi's surging popularity, three of Japan's six major private TV networks had expressed interest in the show, and two had made offers.
Xiao Tang brought the update within minutes. "Tokyo TV offered 20 million yen. That's ten million less than TBS."
Che Lun rolled his eyes. Typical. People familiar with Tokyo TV knew that no matter what emergency struck, they would stick to broadcasting food shows and anime on schedule. The reason? They were broke. Getting them to cough up 20 million yen was already a miracle.
"Leak it to TBS," Che Lun said to Xiao Tang. "Tell them Tokyo TV's also bidding. See if they'll raise their offer."
He was definitely selling. These days, Chinese TV exports were rare, especially for variety shows. Two or three million yen was barely over a million RMB. That was nothing to Che Lun. What mattered was getting the show overseas.
With proper promotion, iQIYI could easily earn tens of millions of yuan.
"From now on, Brother Chu is like my long-lost twin. Anyone dares to slander him on iQIYI's turf, they're slandering me too," Che Lun vowed silently.
After all, Journey Among the Stars owed at least 80 percent of its success to Chu Zhi.
The man behind the chaos—Chu Zhi—was already on the move, riding in a van. The injuries from the earthquake had been minor. Wang Yuan, Xiao Zhu, and the others were recovering well and wouldn't miss work. The only one still needing rest was Lao Qian, but even he had declared he wouldn't leave the front lines.
It was a packed day. After a morning audition, Chu Zhi would fly back to Shanghai. His team was expanding, and another manager needed training. Chu Zhi's jet-set routine was starting again.
The audition was on the 21st floor of the YiHe Building, at the studio of director Wang Anyi.
They had scheduled in advance, so Chu Zhi, Niu Jiangxue, and Xiao Zhu passed through without trouble.
"Chu Zhi's here!"
"Is Director Wang really casting Chu Zhi in her new movie?"
"His performance in that drama wasn't bad."
"Not bad? That's just your fan filter talking. He didn't even need to act."
Even staff at a renowned director's studio couldn't help but gossip when Chu Zhi showed up.
"Hello, Director Wang. I'm Chu Zhi," he said politely.
Not because the director was a big name—Chu Zhi spoke this way to everyone on set.
Wang Anyi, a two-time Oscar-winning director, did not look serene at all. Her sharp, slanted eyes gave off an always-on-edge vibe, like she was ready to throw a punch.
"Thanks for making the trip. Here's the script," she said, mid-conversation with her crew. Her voice had been loud, like she was arguing, but she immediately paused to hand over a copy.
[Scene: Dressing Room
Tone: Heavy
Characters: Su Shiyi and Ma Dalang
Su Shiyi: "...I heard you made quite a name for yourself in the Eight Alleys."
Ma Dalang: "Heh, what else could I do? Wu Erlang met Ximen Qing. I had to fight."
Su Shiyi: "So, there was a Pan Jinlian involved?"
Ma Dalang: "What kind of lousy line is that?"
Su Shiyi: "Then what do you want to hear?"
Ma Dalang: "Say she was Du Shiniang or Su San. At least that'd be romantic."]
It was a short two- or three-minute scene. Chu Zhi asked, "Director Wang, how much time do I have to memorize the lines?"
"No rush. Take your time. I have something to take care of anyway," she replied. "Just let me know when you're ready."
Chu Zhi nodded and began reading the script.
He didn't have a great memory, but he was good at memorization techniques.
If this project was anything like Farewell My Concubine, then he had to make the most of it. That film had made both Leslie Cheung and Zhang Fengyi into legends.
Leslie Cheung, especially—many of his fans couldn't separate him from his role as Cheng Dieyi. And Zhang Fengyi basically lived off that role for decades.
Coincidentally, Chu Zhi had recently drawn a card related to dan (female opera roles) acting techniques in a gacha. Maybe this was fate. He held onto that thought to boost his confidence.
The scene wasn't long. He memorized the lines quickly. What mattered now was how to bring it to life.
He had only ever watched a five-minute summary of Farewell My Concubine, so he had no deep reference. If only he had watched the full film twice—at least then he'd have something to draw from. Regret, as always, came too late.
"Su Shiyi's feelings toward his senior are complicated. On one hand, he's trapped in the story of Ba Wang and Yu Ji. On the other, he has a gender identity conflict. So his tone shouldn't be petulant or jealous, but more like frustrated disappointment. Like, how could a King be obsessed with a courtesan's world?"
The analysis was sound, but theory alone couldn't carry a performance.
Some so-called "young talents" acted by bulging their eyes or stiffening their necks. They weren't totally incapable of expressing emotion, but it was aimless.
It was like saying, "I'm angry!" so they grit their teeth and shout. But why are they angry? They didn't know.
Half an hour passed while Chu Zhi turned those emotions over in his mind. If he had a mirror, he would have rehearsed every expression down to the last detail.
Finally, he told the director he was ready. Wang Anyi had said there was no time limit, but of course, they couldn't really spend one or two hours on it.
"This way," Wang Anyi gestured. She led the group to a conference room.
The room, which could hold over twenty people, had been rearranged. The long rectangular table had been reshaped into a U-formation.
"We'll be recording the audition. There'll be comparisons later. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Chu," Wang Anyi said in a businesslike tone.
No scene partner. A solo performance. That made it even tougher.
"I heard you made quite the name for yourself in the Eight Alleys."
Good thing Chu Zhi had memorized his imaginary partner's lines too. He silently timed his delivery to match the rhythm.
"So, there was a Pan Jinlian involved?" he added a teasing edge to his tone.
Chu Zhi had performed on large stages and succeeded as a singer. So even in front of a top director, his nerves held steady. He delivered his lines with consistent control.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Chu," said Wang Anyi. She didn't offer any commentary, just nodded.
"I think there's still a lot of room for improvement," Chu Zhi admitted.
"For someone without formal training, that was already impressive," Wang Anyi said. Then she suddenly asked, "You taught yourself Peking Opera, right? I heard Master Cheng Mao praised your skills as quite professional."
"I wouldn't say professional. I've just learned a little," Chu Zhi replied modestly.
"Do you know Si Fan?" Wang Anyi asked.
Chu Zhi nodded, then began to sing. Si Fan was a famous excerpt from Kunqu opera, and most performers who trained in qingyi roles would know a few lines.
As he sang, even Wang Anyi, who only dabbled in opera as a hobby, could tell how exceptional it was.
🎵"The lamp before the Buddha cannot light the bridal chamber...I was born a delicate girl, not a man,Then why must I wear this yellow sash and priest's robe?"🎵
Only then did Wang Anyi's expression shift. She listened more intently.
When the performance ended, she applauded.
"Professional. Truly professional. You say you only know a little, but that was better than what I heard at the National Peking Opera Theater a few days ago."
"Thank you, Mr. Chu, for auditioning. We'll need to hold internal discussions. Once we've made a decision, we'll call you," she said.
Chu Zhi had half-expected that performing Si Fan would seal the deal, that he'd be chosen on the spot to play Su Shiyi. But a top-tier director like Wang Anyi had too many choices to make hasty decisions.
Her assistant walked him out. She sat back down and began scoring his audition.
[Acting: 3/16 (Too performative, as if announcing 'I'm acting' to the audience.)
Line delivery: 4/16 (Clear enunciation. At least no muffled words.)
Appearance fit: 12/16 (Soft features with sharp contours, easily styled to suggest obsession.)
Bonus: 3 (Original opera performance)
Total: 22/64]
The last actor to audition had scored 34.
Wang Anyi's standards were brutal. She frowned. Poor acting could be trained, but if it started too low, it could waste everyone's time.
She was still thinking when her phone rang.
"Old Tan's doing the score this time. You've got to help me."
"With our friendship, you know I'd make time," she replied.
Tan Linguang, a legendary composer, had agreed to join the project. He and Wang Anyi were old collaborators.
—
After the audition, Chu Zhi returned to the van. Qiu-ge drove straight for the airport. They were cutting it close, and rescheduling to the next flight would be a hassle.
"Who else auditioned for Su Shiyi?" Chu Zhi asked suddenly, eyes closed as he rested. "Can we find out who Director Wang invited?"
Niu Jiangxue replied, "I'll try."
His assistant Xiao Zhu handed him lemon water and a few snacks. Chu Zhi didn't like junk food, but he needed something to keep him going with such a tight schedule.
Within moments, Niu Jiangxue dug up a list through her contacts. She handed Chu Zhi the names of three other actors auditioning for Su Shiyi.
One of them was someone he knew—Yun Rong.
Yun Rong? He's landing roles in big productions now?
Chu Zhi still remembered when Yun Rong had flopped in several films in a row, and later got cornered by reporters during the shoot for Red Action. Chu Zhi himself had stepped in to handle the press.
Apparently, Red Action had turned out to be a major hit, even hailed as a model of patriotic filmmaking. Yun Rong went on to win multiple awards:
"Top 10 Favorite Actors" at the 28th Huading Awards
"Best Actor in Modern Drama" at the same event
"Outstanding Actor" at the 1978 Excellence Awards, celebrating the 70th anniversary of the PRC
Clearly, he'd made it by leaning into nationalistic roles.
Still, with his strong features and bold look, he seemed a better fit for Ma Dalang than Su Shiyi.
The other two actors were multi-time Best Actor winners. The pressure was real.
With a director like Wang Anyi, investment influence meant nothing. So even Niu Jiangxue couldn't pull strings.
Wang Yuan moved her lips, as if she wanted to say something, but eventually stayed quiet.
They reached the airport parking lot. Chu Zhi and the team headed inside. Qiu-ge would return the rental car and take the next flight.
Why bring a driver everywhere? The cost of extra tickets and hotel stays seemed excessive. But it wasn't about convenience. It was about privacy.
Today, though, privacy had failed. Their schedule was already tight, and somehow, someone had leaked it.
About thirty fans had gathered discreetly near security.
They weren't loud. Just waiting. Quiet and respectful. Naturally, no security guards intervened.
But as soon as Chu Zhi appeared—
"There he is, Ah Jiu!"
"Ninth Master, I love you!"
"Chu-ge, Chu-ge!"
Even with a mask on, they recognized him. His first reaction was shock. His second was: Why are there so many of them?
"Chu-ge, you go ahead. Lao Qian and I will take care of this," Niu Jiangxue said.
"There are over thirty people here. It could disrupt airport operations. This place is already crowded at this hour."
Chu Zhi's first instinct wasn't to run away and leave the mess to his team. He stepped forward instead.
"This is the airport, everyone. Little Fruits, please, don't disturb the other travelers," he said, approaching calmly.
It was a risky move. Fans might get too excited, run up for hugs, or create chaos.
"Thank you all for coming. Or rather... for sending me off," Chu Zhi smiled. "I'd like to say a few words. Will you give me the chance?"
Chu Zhi raised his hand in a gentle shushing gesture. The fans, affectionately known as "Little Fruits," quickly quieted down. Their loyalty made them obedient, and that was exactly what gave Chu Zhi the confidence to step forward.
"Loving an idol is a freedom that should never be restricted," he said, scanning the crowd. "But if that freedom comes at the expense of others' comfort, I don't think that's the right kind of freedom."
His gaze stopped on a familiar face—a girl he was sure he had seen before.
"All of you are probably fans, so... why would I find a fan familiar?"
"The only place I interact directly with fans is during the Fan Festival."
"If I recognize you from there, it must be from one of the activities. Oh, right, the talent segment..."
The realization clicked into place. He turned to her.
"You're Xiao Qiong, aren't you? This is the second time we've met."
He Qiong, standing among the fans, felt like she'd been struck by lightning. Her idol remembered her? That was something she'd never even dared to dream.
Those around her were equally stunned. One of them knew the idol personally?
"You remember me?" she asked in a small voice.
"Of course. You sang 'Against the Light' at the Fan Festival. It was beautiful." Chu Zhi smiled. "Unless my memory's failing me. I'm not always great with names."
During the festival, she had exchanged a performance for a signed gift. Chu Zhi hadn't made an effort to memorize every name—it would've been impossible—but he had a trick. Whenever he heard a fan's name, he'd make up a short rhyme to help him remember. He couldn't recall her full name now, but the "Qiong" had stuck.
"Yes, yes, yes! You're right, Jiu Ge!" He Qiong nodded so hard she looked dizzy with joy.
The other thirty-plus fans watched with glowing envy. What could be more magical than being remembered by your idol?
"Since I got that right, Xiao Qiong, do you remember what I said at the Fan Festival?" Chu Zhi asked. "I said, 'I hope the world is gentle…'"
"Gentle, because it has both you and me," she replied instantly. That moment had been engraved in her heart.
"In a public space, disturbing others isn't gentle at all," Chu Zhi said. "I know you're here to support me. You want to see me. I'll try to appear more often for you. But can we promise to be mindful of others around us?"
How could any of them say no to a request like that?
All of them agreed in unison. Though many still looked back reluctantly, their idol had spoken, and that meant something. Many glanced at He Qiong with renewed admiration. Being remembered was a badge of honor.
The whole scene played out fast. Security hadn't stepped in. But several bystanders had already started filming on their phones. People were surprised by how gracefully the situation was handled.
Soon, the group passed through security and headed toward their gate.
Inside the terminal, Niu Jiangxue shook her head with a smile. "Chu Ge really is one of a kind. Most would've left their manager to deal with that kind of scene, maybe handed out a few signed photos."
"Ah Jiu doesn't want this kind of fan behavior to spread," Wang Yuan added. "He hopes his Little Fruits will grow stronger and kinder."
"That's definitely his style." Niu Jiangxue nodded. "But I'm still surprised they all just left, even without getting autographs. If they're showing up at airports, they must be hardcore fans."
"That's exactly why," Wang Yuan said, clearly speaking from experience as a mama fan. "Hardcore fans have the strongest sense of honor. Because of Chu Ge's example, the whole fanbase has developed a warm, supportive culture. Online or offline, they're always talking about how to be better and how to treat others kindly."
"You won't find that in any other fan community. That's what cohesion looks like," she added. "The most loyal fans are the first to step back when necessary."
Niu Jiangxue nodded again, this time more slowly. She'd always known the Little Fruits were among the most powerful fanbases in the entertainment scene, but she hadn't realized just how deep the culture went.
"Still, our itinerary was confidential. How did this leak?" Wang Yuan suddenly asked.
"I'll find out," Jiangxue replied seriously. "I'll get in touch with the group admins."
It was a serious matter. Fan leaks could easily spiral out of control. Jiangxue would take it up with the appropriate people.
That afternoon, around 4 p.m., they returned to the Shanghai studio. A newly recruited advertising agent was waiting. His name was Qi Qiu, 35 years old, but with skin so smooth he looked fresh out of college. If not for his slightly crooked nose, small eyes, high hairline, and less-than-perfect jawline, he might've passed for an idol himself.
Qi Qiu hadn't transferred from their parent company, Taiyo Chuanhe. He'd been headhunted personally by Sister Niu from outside, previously serving as media director at Hua & Hua, one of China's most prestigious branding consultancies.
Anyone who studied marketing would know that name, especially through their iconic book Super Symbols Are Super Creativity.
Qi Qiu had been part of their core team, so he clearly had skills.
"Finally, I can rest a little," said Fei Ge, who had been handling publicity until now. "Chu Ge's been working me like an ox."
Chu Zhi chuckled. "That's because you're capable."
Fei Ge was one of the busiest in the team, but also one of the best-paid, second only to Jiangxue.
The core team was all present: Chen Shu (visual director), Wang Yuan (executive agent), Lao Qian (agent), Fei Ge (PR manager), and Niu Jiangxue (chief agent), along with Ma Weihong and Winston from headquarters, plus over twenty assistants. Thirty people in all.
Qi Qiu greeted everyone politely, already assessing his future colleagues.
Jiangxue was younger but radiated ambition—almost as if it had taken shape behind her eyes. One woman looked plain but had a quiet grace that hinted at a wealthy upbringing. Then there was the stylish older man, and the perpetually grumpy-looking guy in glasses.
"To welcome Qi Qiu to the team, let's celebrate with hotpot tonight!" Chu Zhi said. "I remember Jiangxue and Zhuzi were craving it back in Japan."
The two women looked at each other in surprise. They'd only mentioned it once in passing, and yet he remembered.
Sometimes it felt like Chu Zhi was the one taking care of them.
"I need to head out early," Lao Qian raised his left hand. His right was still in a bandage. "Got a little date tonight."
"Can you even manage in your current condition?" Wang Yuan teased.
"Middle-aged men have one rule," Lao Qian said solemnly. "Never admit defeat."
Once the joking ended, Chu Zhi got to business. "Let's schedule the Japanese EP. We'll start recording tomorrow or the day after."
No objections there. They had to ride the momentum of his rising fame in Japan with a mini-album.
"We'll go with your concept, Chu Ge," Jiangxue said. "About the MV... should we cast a Japanese actress or someone local?"
That was a genuine question. Since Japanese MVs were usually simple in concept, Chu Zhi decided to keep it domestic.
"We'll go with one of the company's own actresses," he said. A company's top talent ought to support its roster.
Lao Qian raised the next item on the agenda. "Let's move to the first point—renewing the contract with Helen Keller Sunglasses…"
The meeting wrapped up after more than an hour. Photographer Chen Shu got straight to work—photo updates were overdue. Both the app and Weibo account were long starved for content.
While Chu Zhi's team stayed busy, others had their own plans.
"Episode 3 of Journey Among the Stars airs tonight. I was gonna stay in."
"There's a hot guy in it."
"Okay, but I'm a Little Fruit now."
"There are lots of hot guys."
"Hold on, let me put on some makeup. I can watch Journey tomorrow."
This conversation took place between two close friends, Taozi and Bai Tuantuan. Taozi, the cheerful one, was excited for tonight's episode.
After all, the show had been teasing it for days with the slogan, [Chu Zhi's Most Romantic Gift to Fans]. Taozi had studied the teaser over and over, but still couldn't figure out what the surprise might be.
The gift wasn't going anywhere, but the handsome guy at the bar might. With that thought, she dashed off in a hurry.
Her nickname, Taozi, didn't come from a pun on her name. It matched her cute aesthetic, with cheeks naturally pink like a ripe peach.
At 8:30, when Journey Among the Stars went live, Taozi and Bai Tuantuan were already out having fun at a bar on Hengshan Road. It was a lively night. Bars like this were famous across different cities: Hengshan Road in the magic capital, Jiu Street in Mountain City, Silk Pipe Road in Banyan City, Liberation West in Star City, Yanjiang West Road in Goat City. Every place had its own kind of charm.
Bai Tuantuan hadn't lied. There really were some good-looking guys here. Her favorite was an older man—handsome, witty, and charming. His name was Qian Quxiang.
The name came from a classic saying, "Draw meaning from Qian, round on the outside, square on the inside." The only downside was that his hands looked a little injured.
"The greatest happiness in life," Qian said with a sigh, "is to have both love and a clean conscience."
"So... do you have both now?" Taozi asked, her cheeks even rosier now, though it might have been the alcohol talking.
There's a saying in Mountain City: "Blushing means you're still drinking." Taozi came from Liangshan, a region known for legendary drinkers, so she could definitely hold her liquor.
Liangshan wasn't just good at drinking. It was a whole different beast. There, drinking wasn't about how much—you just didn't need side dishes. It was absurd.
"I have neither," Qian said with a laugh. "No love, and certainly no clean conscience."
The group chuckled lightly.
"I'm just joking. Rousseau said that, not me," he added quickly, saving face.
"Which Rousseau? The one who wrote The Social Contract?"
"That's the one," he nodded. "When his book Émile was published, it shook the foundations of traditional education and got him kicked out of France. When his friend asked him why he had to write such a book, do you know what Rousseau said?"
"??" Taozi looked completely lost. "Of course I don't."
Qian chuckled. "Exactly. He said 'I don't know.' One of the most influential books on childhood education came from not knowing."
"I like girls who are well-read," he added with a smile.
Everyone could tell he'd just delivered a pick-up line, but no one minded. The atmosphere was warm, the drinks were flowing, and the group was enjoying themselves.
Bai Tuantuan, however, had to excuse herself. Maybe lunch hadn't sat well with her. She went to the restroom.
The Three Great Modern Warriors: watching adult films without speeding up, pooping without a phone, and falling asleep immediately at night.
Unfortunately, Bai Tuantuan couldn't manage any of those. A little dizzy, she pulled out her phone and decided to look for something to distract her.
Oh, right—Journey Among the Stars. Time to see why her gamer-girl bestie had suddenly turned into a fangirl.
The show started off with an anti-scam awareness bit. Pretty boring. She sped it up.
Then Chu Zhi appeared onscreen, heading toward Xufeng Nanyue in the middle of the night. The show began to take a turn. Something about it felt mysterious.
Why was Chu Zhi climbing a mountain alone at night?
No one knew. The production team just filmed his grueling hike, condensing a three- to four-hour trek into a few minutes.
He barely spoke with the cameraman, Kobayashi. Even when handing over water, there were no words. Who had the energy to talk when exhausted?
The editors were bold—long minutes passed in silence. What kept Bai Tuantuan watching were the viewer comments.
"Why's he not talking?"
"What's he doing climbing a mountain at night?"
"Is this a hobby? Because this stamina is worse than mine."
"Boring. Skip."
"Why show this? Just cut back to the hotel."
She wasn't interested in idols, not even the good-looking ones. She specifically picked comments criticizing Chu Zhi to read.
Her taste in men was... different. Normal pretty boys bored her. She liked the kind who looked a little wrecked—wounded but beautiful.
Perfection was dull. Only the moment when perfection is shattered reveals true beauty.
Of course, that kind of aesthetic only existed in 2D. So that's what she usually chased.
When Chu Zhi reached the summit, the view was barren. Barely any trees or flowers. Even looking down offered nothing but pitch black. There was no sense of conquest or awe.
Then the camera tilted up. And the sky exploded into stars.
For two full seconds, Bai Tuantuan forgot how to breathe.
"So beautiful," she whispered. To someone who lived in a city, such a sky was a rare sight.
"I've said it before. My fans are the stars that keep me going. Tonight, I want to share this sky with you." Chu Zhi's voice echoed. Bai Tuantuan froze.
An idol hiked a mountain for three to four hours in the middle of the night just to show this to his fans?
She saw the gear in his bag—professional nighttime camera equipment. He set it up, found the perfect angle, and a stunning celestial panorama unfolded.
"Damn... he's kind of romantic. And... kind of hot," Bai Tuantuan muttered.
The view from the cameraman's lens showed Chu Zhi soaked in sweat, his lips pale, his face even paler, like delicate calligraphy left soaking in ink.
Bai Tuantuan's heart tightened. Damaged beauty? Her eyes lit up.
The comment section exploded:
"He's so romantic in his own way."
"The best idol I've ever seen."
"The sky's beautiful, but he's even more so."
"My boyfriend's never done anything this sweet."
"I've always been proud to be a 'Little Fruit'—tonight, even more so."
"Why is he so good to us?"
The flood of comments made it hard to read anything. Bai Tuantuan shut them off.
Now she understood why Taozi had stopped playing King's Glory, PUBG, and hadn't logged into Genshin in ages. She only had eyes for Chu Zhi.
What kind of idol would do all this? Wasn't being a top celebrity supposed to mean treating fans like cash cows?
Then a soft singing voice came through.
🎵 The brightest star in the night sky, do you know where the one who once walked with me has gone?
Oh, brightest star, do you care whether dawn will come or disaster will strike first?
Whenever I lose my way in the dark, oh brightest star, please guide me forward.
I pray for a clear heart and eyes that know how to cry.🎵
The third episode of Journey Among the Stars was all over the place, but for more than twenty minutes, it was just Chu Zhi alone. The starry sky, his soft voice, and that gift to his fans—it was overwhelming.
Even non-fans like Bai Tuantuan couldn't resist.
Just as the episode ended, her phone rang. It was Taozi.
"Tuantuan, are you okay? You've been in the bathroom for half an hour."
"Peach... I shouldn't have dragged you out tonight," Bai Tuantuan said, hesitating. Missing that moment when Chu Zhi gave his fans such a gift felt like a loss.
"Huh?" Taozi was confused.
Everyone expected Episode 3 to do well, but no one expected it to blow up this much. No, not the show—Chu Zhi did.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Explosion.
Spinning Shuriken Combo Explosion.
The episode aired on iQIYI at 8:30 and ran for two and a half hours. Normally, the buzz wouldn't hit until after midnight. But by 11, Chu Zhi had already shot up to the top of the trending list.
Many hadn't even finished the episode yet. People were tweeting, posting on TikTok while watching.
#TheMostRomanticGift
#BrightestStarInTheNightSky
#ChuZhiNightClimb
There were more hashtags, but these three alone hit the top five on both Weibo and Douyin.
If you weren't watching Journey Among the Stars, you had no idea what was happening. Then, suddenly, your whole feed was Chu Zhi.
Ye_azui: [I used to think it was fake when Chu Zhi said he didn't need antidepressants because of his fans. But after hearing him sing tonight... maybe we really are his stars. I want to be a Little Fruit too. For the first time, I want to be someone's fan.]
TianLaLu:[I'm not a fan. I'm not a fan. I'm not a fan. Said it three times. I've never followed any celeb. My favorite artist is Garcilaso de la Vega. But tonight? This man hit me with such romance, I couldn't escape. The stars, the sincerity. I'm done.]
Reyn:[Came in just to roast this "most romantic gift to fans" gimmick. Had over a thousand snarky lines ready. But after watching? That kind of romance... it's only for someone who truly matters.]
Sound of Torn Silk:[Cried twice during a variety show. My boyfriend calls me a crybaby. First tear fell when A-Jiu gave us that gift. You could see how much it took out of him. Climbing that mountain just to show us the sky? I'll be his fan for life.]
And many more.
The buzz spread fastest on Douyin. Short videos could capture the entire narrative in seconds. Weibo required too much reading.
They're coming. The idols still asleep or still grinding.
The "Acting Beasts" are evolving again.
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Starting from the Japan Arc, each chapter is almost as long as two or three previous ones. Some are even the length of four chapters! So from now on, if a chapter ends up being extra long, I might only update one or two chapters per day. I hope you can understand (｡•́︿•̀｡)
Thank you so much for reading!
And oh—please don't forget to leave a review, drop some votes, or even send a little Ko-fi or Patreon donation if you'd like to support me ♡
My [Ko-fi]! ☕️: https://ko-fi.com/rikhi
My [Patreon]!🎨: https://patreon.com/rikhi
It really means a lot! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡