The games at the Orange Festival followed the usual principle: make sure as many people could join as possible. But they didn't reuse the previous year's setup.
Chu Zhi had his company's planners draft a long list of ideas, and in the end, he chose the game called "Orange Maze." The venue was scattered with various questions, and every correct answer earned you orange coins.
Some of the questions were tricky. Like, "What was the first song where Chu Zhi composed both the melody and lyrics?" Others were easier: "How many albums has Chu Zhi released domestically?"
Even the hard ones were sometimes answered correctly by the Little Fruits. As for the simple ones, surprisingly, there were still wrong answers.
Many Little Fruits answered that Chu Zhi had released two albums so far, 25117 Possibilities and Chu Ci: Ode to the Orange Trees. But the correct answer was four.
Even if the original body's peak was short-lived, it had still produced two full albums—electronic and psychedelic in style. Whether they were good or not was one thing, but the Emperor Beast would never ignore the original self's hard work.
Strangely enough, as Chu Zhi released more quality songs, the public's perception of those earlier two albums gradually improved. Some music critics even began to re-analyze them from a fresh perspective.
After all, in another parallel universe, the greatest film of all time was Six Panels.
"Come on, come on, time's almost up!" Kun Yun rallied the crowd. "Orange coins can be exchanged for fan merch after the event."
Ling Zinan muttered under his breath, "Brother Jiu's going bad. What is this, the same scammy tactic as Trash Tianmei?"
With plenty of experience in games, Ling Zinan had already seen through the trick. Each correct answer only gave you five orange coins. Judging from classic online game logic, it would probably take twenty or thirty to redeem anything decent.
Of course, Ling Zinan instinctively blamed the planners. How could Brother Jiu possibly be at fault?
He still needed to find two more puzzles. After wandering around the venue for a while and coming up empty, he sighed. Had someone already found all of them?
"Is this what you're looking for?" Ling's mom held out three small orange bamboo tubes.
Ling Zinan was intrigued. He'd just searched the area and found nothing. "Where'd you get these?"
"They were under the couch we were sitting on. I stepped on one by accident," she replied.
"Was this the legendary lucky mom buff?"
Ling Zinan opened one of the bamboo tubes and pulled out a slip of paper. It read: [Chu Zhi's birthday].
Too easy. September 9th. He got it right.
"The Little Fruits are doing their best to answer questions, so you should too, Little Jiu," Kun Yun suddenly said.
"Hm?" Chu Zhi blinked. Then he remembered what Old Qian had said about a surprise segment.
Everything in the Orange Festival schedule had gone through his review, except for this one mysterious part. Old Qian had been secretive, only revealing that it would be a special segment. The Emperor Beast, who liked to keep everything under control, had hesitated for a long time before agreeing to it.
"We collected these questions secretly," Kun Yun explained. "I swear on my ten-plus years of hosting experience, Little Jiu had no clue this segment existed, let alone the questions."
"Well, I didn't expect this at all," Chu Zhi said.
"Of course, the Orange Festival is a time for both Big Orange and the Little Fruits to play together," Kun Yun smiled.
"Let's do it then," Chu Zhi agreed.
The Little Fruits who had been searching for bamboo tubes paused, and streamer Rou Rou turned her camera to focus on her idol.
"Here's the first crowd-submitted question." Kun Yun pulled out a cue card. At the same time, the big screen behind them lit up:
[Jiu-yé, do you remember where your first autograph signing event was held?]
"Uhh—" Chu Zhi's mind went blank.
Due to the original body's long-term battle with depression, which had caused organic damage, many of his past memories were blurry. Even though Chu Zhi had inherited all the original memories, this question stumped him.
"I can't remember…" He tried recalling, but nothing came up.
"Ludao. The first signing event was in Ludao," Kun Yun chimed in to move things along. "More importantly, this fan also left a message:
[Brother Jiu, how long has it been since your last fan meet or signing event? Even if your albums are free, we can't go without signings!]"
The second question was:
[What was the breakout song on the stage of "Future's Star"?]
The memory was faint. It was from the first round of preliminaries. The song itself hadn't been particularly amazing, but his stunning appearance in a bright red suit had crushed the competition. That's when people started calling him the "Same-Frame Assassin."
The fan's message read:
[That red suit amazed my entire youth. I still regret not supporting you during your lowest moments, but from now on, I'll stand by you without hesitation.]
Kun Yun asked a total of eight questions. The Emperor Beast got five correct.
"I really should have remembered those last three, but my memory's terrible," Chu Zhi admitted.
The Little Fruits at the scene all voiced their understanding. But fans watching the livestream through Rou Rou's camera had slightly more distance and independent thought.
Some of the comments read:
[Wait, didn't I see an airport video where Jiu-yé remembered a Little Fruit who had been to one of his events? How can he have bad memory?]
It seemed contradictory, but before fans could think about it too much, Kun Yun moved things along.
"If you haven't answered all your Orange Maze questions, hurry up. We're about to start the next activity!"
The schedule wasn't rushed at all. In fact, you could sit there the whole time snacking, with no pressure to participate.
As the minutes passed, around fifty parents who had come with their kids started gathering in small groups. They didn't join the games, but instead began chatting.
"Back in my day, being a fan just meant buying tapes. We listened at home and talked about them at school. There were no events like this."
"How long has your kid been a Little Fruit?"
"She said a year or two."
"Same here. My kid's been a fan for about two years. At first, her grades dropped, but then they bounced back. In the last mock exam, she ranked ninth in the entire grade. She even made me promise not to stop her from being a fan."
The parents talked among themselves. With student parents, if they weren't talking about grades, they were talking about extracurriculars. But that wasn't quite appropriate here, so grades it was.
"Chu Zhi is really different from other celebrities," Ling's mom shared. "My son never liked reading outside of schoolwork. He'd rather play games. I've told him so many times. But ever since he started liking Chu Zhi, he actually started reading on his own."
She thought it was just her kid, but once the parents started sharing, they realized that most of the children had improved, even if just in attitude or goals.
One parent said her daughter had a serious sweet tooth and was severely overweight at just fourteen. They had been urging her to diet for health reasons, but she never listened. After becoming a Chu Zhi fan, she kept saying,
"I want to lose weight and become a better version of myself so I can attend his concert."
"Most of the time she still can't resist sweets," the mother laughed, "but at least she's aware now. That's a good start."
The more they talked, the more positive their impression of Chu Zhi became. In the past, they'd worried about idols affecting studies or promoting reckless spending, but neither of those seemed to be an issue now.
The two games brought together different groups. With simple rules and even Chu Zhi himself participating, the atmosphere was warm and joyful. In the corner, the camera crew was on standby, capturing all the fans' happy moments. Another area was set up to stream the entire event on Orange Home.
The third part of the festival was the "Idol Performance." Chu Zhi took center stage.
"Before the event, we put up a submission post asking what you all wanted to see at the fan festival," Chu Zhi said. "Honestly, I didn't expect your creativity to go this far."
With a flick of his hand, the big screen displayed suggestions from Orange Home. Dance, swimming, crossdressing, push-ups, silly duets—everything was there.
"You all know my coordination isn't great. I've got that classic same-arm-same-leg issue. But I still practiced a dance. I think it turned out okay."
Saying his coordination was poor was an exaggeration. The Emperor Beast liked to work hard enough to give the illusion of effortlessness, but he had genuinely pushed himself. For half a month, he hadn't missed a single daily dance class and often practiced even more at home, just to fulfill this fan request.
"I'll go change real quick," Chu Zhi said as he walked offstage.
None of the Little Fruits had expected this. The Orange Festival was already amazing, but now their idol was letting them "order from the menu"? What a surprise.
"What kind of divine idol is this?" Rou Rou said to her stream. "Even if Jiu-yé dances like a stiff board, this whole thing deserves a like from me!"
About ten minutes later—slightly long for a costume change—Chu Zhi returned. Luckily, Kun Yun kept the crowd engaged the whole time like the seasoned host he was.
When Chu Zhi stepped out again, everyone understood why it had taken so long. Any Peking opera fan would recognize it: his face paint was that of a daomadan warrior role.
"Gorgeous," someone whispered. His cross-gender opera styling was legendary, and this time was no exception.
His outfit was a modified opera costume, oversized and dramatic.
The music started—ancient and rich in tone. Some long-time Little Fruits said they had never heard this song before.
🎵 "I was still in Xiangjiang this morning, sipping soup at Jiulong Teahouse, when suddenly the scene changed to Chang'an."
"I stand by the moat's edge, beneath the old mysterious walls, the moonlight shimmering."
"I speak English with a street vendor, and then—darkness." 🎵
Chu Zhi started singing in his natural male voice. In one moment, he had met three requests: new song, traditional costume, and dance.
Singing while dancing is no easy feat, but thanks to two weeks of training, he nailed it. His performance reached a professional level.
Rou Rou's eyes were wide. This wasn't just "not bad." This was unreal.
And then came the climax.
The stage lights caught the moment as his costume flipped mid-dance—revealing a transformation between Xiang Yu and Yu Ji.
The outfit was specially designed for this performance. His voice shifted to a female tone, and the choreography softened into grace. Thanks to the choreographer's planning, the transition was seamless, not jarring in the least.
🎵 "I start to wonder, where am I really? I look different, a Chinese girl."
"I start to care, dressing with attention. I finally step on stage, it's my turn now."
"I twirl my blanket-gun, land in a backflip, my stance solid like a horse-riding warrior."
"I twirl my gun, outshining everyone, and sing the tale of Yu Ji and Xiang Yu."
"I twirl my gun, the stage is my opera troupe…" 🎵
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Daomadan (刀马旦): A female warrior role in Peking Opera
Yu Ji and Xiang Yu (虞姬与项羽): Legendary figures in Chinese history and opera