Scalpers were still hanging around the entrance, selling tickets at sky-high prices.
No wonder a lot of people thought scalper tickets came from inside sources. Chu Zhi felt the same way. If it weren't for insiders, it would be hard to imagine how anyone could buy over a hundred tickets with a one-person, two-ticket limit, and the seats were all pretty decent too.
Most stars just limit ticket purchases per account to fight scalpers. Very few go as far as Chu Zhi—restricting IPs, IDs, and even requiring a verification code at the gate.
It adds cost, sure, and it risks unsold tickets, but right now four gates were open. Chu Zhi scanned the verification QR code and got in line. He noticed a lot of fans holding support signs like [Ai Jianhui], [We Are Fandoms], and [Rice Cake Mwah], all issued by the fan clubs. There was no way to buy them on site, so Chu Zhi grabbed two free glow sticks, blue ones, and he could already imagine a sea of blue in the crowd.
He found his seat. The inner floor had plastic stools set up messily, but the crowd's energy turned the disorder into excitement.
"This year I finally caught the Rice Cake tour," someone said.
"I heard Lu Lao Da might invite Fan Lao Er too."
"Of course, when does Fan Lao Er not join Rice Cake's concerts?"
"One word: can't wait! Hope they perform 'The Journey' and 'The Clumsiest Love,' my two favorite songs."
Nearby fans chatted in hushed but excited tones, their voices bubbling with anticipation. Chu Zhi felt it too, letting the energy pull his gaze toward the stage. At exactly seven, stage lights flared like a peacock opening its feathers, and Luo Jianhui appeared.
"Holy shit, Luo Lao Da is so handsome. That mature man charm, no wonder even I step back a bit," said a guy in his forties next to him, shouting at the top of his lungs, completely hyped.
And he wasn't wrong. Compared to Luo Jianhui's quiet, reserved persona off-stage and on variety shows, his stage charisma jumped up at least seven or eight levels.
His live performance was solid. He didn't do many fast songs or dance numbers, but he moved around the stage, interacting with fans.
Having debuted over a decade ago, Luo Jianhui held a catalog of hits. While "golden hits" now weren't clearly defined, songs from ten-plus years ago were household names, sparking massive singalongs at the concert.
Chu Zhi couldn't help but join in. With the crowd and chaos, no one noticed him, especially the guy on his left. That guy was a pro, his voice even louder than Chu Zhi's, completely covering him.
After forty-plus minutes, Luo Jianhui paused for a breath. "My view is a singer must perform live. Studio-only singers…I won't be one of those. Concerts are the best way to show your skills live. Next, I want to welcome another talented singer friend."
He spoke loudly to the audience, a bit rough around the edges, but fans were used to it. Their chants echoed: "Fan Lao Er! We've waited so long! Finally, Luo Lao Da and Fan Lao Er on the same stage! Here they come! Woo!"
Chu Zhi thought he even heard them say "Fan Er Fan Er."
Fan Lao Er was singer Li Zhenfan, a former Qingge competition pop singing champion, handsome, once called the "Prince of Love Songs," but notorious for his foul mouth. Over time, he went from prince to "You're So Annoying" and struggled in his career.
A talented, good-looking singer ruined by his own mouth—that's gotta be some serious attitude problem.
Li Zhenfan's family hit financial trouble. The only person who helped was Luo Jianhui. Luo invited him on stage for concerts and shows, and thanks to him, Li could get his mother treated.
After life beat him down, Li Zhenfan mellowed, started preaching about studying hard, and earned the nickname Fan Lao Er. He was still a second-tier singer with decent income, but helping on Luo Jianhui's concerts never changed.
He performed one of Luo Jianhui's signature songs first, then Luo sang one of his, and then they did a duet with a few jokes, lasting twenty minutes.
Luo Jianhui remained the star, changing outfits two or three times despite not dancing. His costume this set made him look like a tree spirit, the exaggerated headpiece catching the eye.
Half an hour later, he sang four more songs, changed again, catching his breath during the outfit swap.
Panting, he heard the in-ear monitor: "There's a special guest in the audience."
The concert director spoke.
"Special guest, who?" Luo Jianhui scanned the crowd.
The director didn't need a reply, "Chu Zhi, he's sitting in the audience. Invite him on stage?"
Leader? Luo Jianhui was surprised. He'd shamelessly asked for two tickets on the In Harmony with Chu · World Tour before, but never expected the leader to actually buy one to see him perform.
After changing, he looked like a carp spirit, thanks to a scale-patterned tight T-shirt and red cap.
"We have a special audience member tonight," Luo Jianhui announced. "Who is it?"
Spotlights scanned the crowd, locking on Chu Zhi in the third row. He wore a plain Mu Zhi Hot sweatshirt, but the audience instantly recognized him. That face was globally unique.
Cheering erupted: "Oh oh oh Jiu-yé!" "Little Jiu is here too!" "Double surprise!"
The guy on Chu Zhi's left nearly lost it. Holy shit, he's sitting right next to a big shot.
🎵"Light as paper, scattered everywhere, panic as applause fades. She sings unbearable wounds, the script on stage, the final act…"🎵 Luo Jianhui immediately performed a segment of The Wounds of War, his favorite. He even thought it should've been included on the album Is It Peace? instead of Tomorrow Will Be Better, though that song was still great and used in charity events.
The crowd went wild. As a representative piece from Besieged on All Sides, it topped music charts everywhere.
"The audience is calling so loudly, should we have the leader sing a couple of songs?" Luo Jianhui invited.
Since the host gave the invite, Chu Zhi got up and walked on stage. Luo Jianhui quickly handed him a mic.
"I came just as an audience member, didn't expect to get drafted," Chu Zhi said. "I'm not prepared."
"Since you're here, you've gotta sing," Luo Jianhui said. "No prep? Then just pick a song."
Without backing music, Chu Zhi started singing along with Luo Jianhui's melody:
🎵"The wheat fields fall toward the tanks, dandelions scatter in the air. They fly in despair, she sings and thinks only, this is The Wounds of War."🎵
🎵"Evil night lights the candles, heaven breaks to stop the war…"🎵 His skill was obvious, even acapella it sounded mixed and polished.
Every time he performed, he improved. Luo Jianhui thought back—this was the fourth time seeing him live: Star Journey, Koguchi Yoshihiro's Hokkaido concert, the tour, and now. Each time, stronger.
The chorus came, the whole crowd singing: 🎵"What shape is hope in the children's eyes? Will they wake up to bread for breakfast and hot soup…"🎵
The voices were louder than any earlier singalong.
After the song, Luo Jianhui laughed, "See? They act like your fans; they don't even need a mic to sing along."
"But I'm a fan of Luo Lao Da too," Chu Zhi said with a smile.
The remark made sense. If he weren't a fan, why secretly buy tickets?
Then Chu Zhi acapella'd another song, She and She and She, proving two things: first, he's the center of attention anywhere; second, fans are inevitably "two-timing" little devils.
After returning to his seat, the guy on the left couldn't rest, constantly glancing over.
After the concert, Luo Jianhui treated everyone to dinner, and Chu Zhi naturally didn't refuse.
A relaxed day ended, with a high-intensity schedule looming.
In the midst of busyness, a familiar notification popped up. Chu Zhi saw a batch of personalized coins deposited, [Low-key donation of ten million*60], gaining 60 coins, balance hitting 93.
One night's fortune? That's an overnight fortune.
His fruit-grower and tree-planter accounts had donated a total of 600 million RMB, the next milestone at 1.5 billion. Still far from the goal considering his usual yearly targets.
[Host can perform a ten-draw; ten-draw has a surprise.] the system said.
"A surprise? Hmm…" Chu Zhi shrugged, thinking the ten-draw probably had a guaranteed special prize. He hadn't even finished his current rewards.
"Don't rush, I'll celebrate after the Nobel Prize in Literature, then do a draw," he said.
By March 30th:
"Who says the movie premieres April 1? Must be an April Fool's joke."
"Wait, really? Tickets available? Everyone expects you to bail, but if you don't, that counts as bailing."
This meant The Matrix would premiere April 1, Fool's Day. Thanks to Warner and the distributors, this S-tier movie immediately caused a global stir.
For a blockbuster, having a "viral hook" matters more than solid quality.
The marketing angle was "watch Chu Zhi save the world." After Never Sinks, the second global hit, the decision to use Chu Zhi as the draw was clear.
It worked. Anti-war initiatives, Is It Peace? release, record-breaking stage performances—all skyrocketed global attention on Chu Zhi.
Add to that his media silence and rare variety show appearances, keeping a mysterious aura.
Opening day box office in China: 370 million RMB!
North America: 140 million USD!
Global: over 350 million USD!
Three exclamation points to show the score. First-day box office even outpaced Never Sinks.
Sci-fi drew more casual viewers than 19th-century romance, and Chu Zhi's fame dwarfed the prior lead.
The Matrix's quality and effects were top-notch, earning solid praise, understandable even without complex philosophy.
["If you say 'real' is what you can feel, smell, or taste, then the real is just your brain's electronic reaction."
"This is your last chance. After this, no turning back. Take the blue pill—the story ends, you wake in your bed, continue believing what you want. Take the red pill—you stay in Wonderland. I'll show you how deep the rabbit hole goes."
"Everything that begins, must end."]
Worldwide, the movie was praised, especially in Hollywood. Maybe it's in their culture, but Americans love a savior story.
Keanu Reeves became a global star from this movie; Chu Zhi's parallel-world version amplified that effect.
[One of the best action sci-fi films ever. The production quality rivals The Matrix, surpassing the past decade's sci-fi, immersing me in another world, taking you into a brand-new universe.]
[Chu Zhi as the protagonist isn't perfect, but he nailed it. Few long lines, giving him a chance to express through posture and expression—this is exactly how I imagined a savior.]
[Watching three times revealed philosophical and religious elements, making me appreciate the film and director/writer Davis even more.]
[Fights, religious symbols, myth and culture blended—The Matrix is unique.]
[Davis created a fascinating sci-fi world. Neo (Chu Zhi) is a hacker with intuition the world is wrong. He's Alice, going down the rabbit hole, discovering his world is Wonderland. Bullet time, Chinese martial arts, black coats—all amplify Chu Zhi's cool. I even ordered the movie's sunglasses and coat.]
[The movie is stunning and wild. Gregory, Gwen, and Rupert were excellent. Gwen was underrated. Chu Zhi's appearance alone carries the film.]