"The World Cup theme song? Is this my gateway into the Western market?" Chu Zhi hadn't expected to draw that particular track.
According to the plan crafted by the "Entertainment Emperor Beast," his path was clear: first become the face of Gen Z, then rise to dominate the Chinese music scene, and eventually make his mark as an Asian star.
Originally, the plan placed "pillar of the Chinese music industry" before "pan-Asian recognition." But for Chu Zhi, pursuing both paths simultaneously was just fine. No plan could ever keep up with the pace of reality anyway.
To be a true pillar, he would need to release at least two more albums. After the upcoming China-Japan-Korea joint performance, his fame would likely climb even higher.
"2022 World Cup…" Chu Zhi looked it up. It was the Qatar World Cup.
Since Qatar is an Asian country, he still needed to boost his influence across Asia. After all, landing a World Cup theme song wasn't just about making a good song—it also required visibility and credibility.
With only five Personality Coins left, Chu Zhi decided not to press his luck again. He quit while he was ahead.
Another day came. Airports were busy as always.
Chu Zhi's flight was delayed again, leaving him stranded at Haneda Airport for over four hours before finally boarding a plane back to the Magic City.
Even before he returned to the office from Pudong Airport, someone was already waiting to visit.
"Long time no see, brother Zhan," said Niu Jiangxue.
"There's no need for 'brother'—just call me by my name, Sister Xue," Zhan replied politely.
Back in their days at Taiyang Chuanhe, Zhan and Niu had been on roughly equal footing as managers. But now… he felt like he had to greet her with "sister."
Thanks to Yi Zhanxun's help after joining the company, Niu Jiangxue had risen quickly. Not that she let success get to her head. "Cut the small talk. What brings you here today?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing urgent," Zhan replied. "Mainly, I wanted to ask—has Mr. Chu stopped playing badminton with Yu Yi because he thinks he's not good enough?"
"That's not it," she said. "Chu Zhi has just been busy filming in Japan. He's mentioned before that the kid plays well."
"That's great to hear." Zhan smiled and started easing into the real topic. "So Mr. Chu's shooting a movie in Japan? Must be a big production."
Truth be told, Zhan couldn't figure out why Chu Zhi would take a Japanese movie role when several domestic blockbusters had already offered big money. There were even more mid-sized projects to choose from. Why go abroad?
Niu Jiangxue could tell Zhan had come with a favor to ask. Zhan also knew she knew. But the timing wasn't right to bring it up. Conversations between adults were always such a pain.
She actually started missing Fei-ge. Sure, he could be argumentative, but at least he was direct and efficient.
After ten or so minutes of polite small talk, Zhan finally came out with it.
"Our artist Yu Yi needs a lead single. Of course, I know Mr. Chu doesn't write songs for others, and we're only asking for a 'discarded track.'"
"Letting an internet singer perform a discarded track is one thing," Niu Jiangxue said, frowning. "But Yu Yi is a professionally debuted artist. Isn't that a bit…"
She couldn't even find the right word. Saying it would "cheapen" things didn't quite feel right.
"Come on, Sister Xue, it's Yu Yi's debut album. Having a high-traffic song is already a huge win. He's a newcomer—who's he to be picky?" Zhan felt like Niu was a full man who couldn't understand the hunger of someone starving. The issue wasn't whether the company was helping or not, but that most top producers didn't want their songs sung by a newbie.
"Besides," he added, "Mr. Chu's discarded tracks are in a league of their own."
He began to explain, "Online songs have different tiers: flops, small hits, big hits, divine tracks, and trash bin songs."
"??"
Niu Jiangxue was full of question marks.
"'Divine tracks' are those mega-viral hits that dominate short videos. But Chu Zhi's 'trash bin' songs don't just go viral—they get covered, remixed, and reinterpreted by countless singers. Take 'Love You at 105°'—it got so big Watson's paid to use it in their distilled water ad campaign."
"As they say, 'First came Chu Zhi, then came Heaven. You'll find immortals digging in his trash can.'"
"Are you studying for your master's degree in marketing or something? The sheer nonsense was impressive," Niu Jiangxue thought.
"As for compensation, we know we can't offer what Punch Sister did," Zhan said. "But we'll give up 100% of the revenue to Mr. Chu."
A hundred percent… that would make Yu Yi a free laborer for Chu Zhi. Even Niu had to whistle.
"Since the album is about to launch, the timing is tight. I'll trouble you with the ask," Zhan said.
The timing wasn't ideal, but Zhan couldn't help it. Chu Zhi had become a variety show rocket. His last travel reality show had sent him trending multiple times. With Episode Seven of Star Journey airing soon, they had to act fast, or he might blast off again before they had a chance.
"I'll ask Chu Zhi," Niu Jiangxue replied. "But if he agrees, remember—it's still a discarded track. No wild marketing stunts."
"Of course. We've already got a line prepared. We'll say he won it in a badminton match," Zhan said confidently.
Sounded reasonable enough. Niu nodded.
Sure, on paper, it looked like a bad deal for Yu Yi. But considering the popularity of "Learn to Meow" and "Love You at 105°," having a debut album known across the internet was an incredible opportunity. Who wouldn't take it?
More honestly—many wanted to take a loss like this, but never got the chance.
By noon, Chu Zhi arrived at the company, and Niu Jiangxue relayed Zhan's request word for word.
"I'll see what I can find," Chu Zhi replied.
He'd played badminton with Yu Yi three or four times, and their matches were evenly matched and fun. Giving him a song wouldn't hurt.
Yu Yi had a low, slightly raspy voice. Chu Zhi found something fitting from his massive song database: "How Much I Want to Hold You in My Ordinary Life," originally sung by Ge Bi Lao Fan. That track had gone viral with its husky chorus: "I stumbled toward you, you can't just leave me behind"
"This one's for you, badminton kid," Chu Zhi said. He didn't think the 100% revenue offer was necessary—Punch Sister had paid 3 million plus 50% royalties. He figured 70% was fair.
As the days passed and the month came to an end, Chu Zhi began planning his second album.
The last one had dropped on Lunar New Year's Eve. He wanted to time this one similarly.
While sketching out song drafts in the office, he used an Album Voucher and five Personality Coins to redeem the "TV Theme Song Collection" released by Rolling Stone Records in 2001.
With his balance now zero, the broke star carefully examined the songs embedded in his memory.
Totally worth it. Just look at the track list: "Sad Pacific," "Ghost Possession," "Difficult Sutra," "Mythical Love," "A Dream of Swords"—fifteen hits, any one of which could dominate the charts. Plus, it included both Mandarin and Cantonese songs.
Chu Zhi was the kind of guy who'd split one coin into two if he could. After some research, he realized it was smarter to redeem official collections than individual "legendary" albums.
It was a shame to drop a new album without any Cantonese tracks.
Tentative track list:
A Dream of Swords
Dream Back to Tang Dynasty
The New Drunken Concubine
A Thousand Miles Away
Chrysanthemum Terrace
Compendium of Materia Medica
Difficult Sutra (Mandarin & Cantonese versions)
Drunken Red Cliff
Qingming Rainfall
The Seventh Chapter of the Night
Opera
Opera 2
Sad Pacific
Theme: Chinese Style for the Global Stage.
The album would blend Western operatic vocals, Japanese pop influence, and even feature "Sad Pacific," adapted from the Japanese song "Happiness" by Nakajima Miyuki.
From rap, pop, drama, heavy metal, Brit rock, to Spanish flamenco—this was a colorful album under one unified concept. "Difficult Sutra" even included Buddhist chanting elements.
No mainstream album had dared try this before. It would be a musical bombshell.
Chu Zhi wanted to solidify his title as the new "Father of Chinese Style Pop"—and also to show off his talent that couldn't be hidden.
"All that's left is naming the album," he muttered.
Just then—knock knock.
"Come in," Chu Zhi said. Niu Jiangxue entered.
She asked after his health first, then got to business.
"THT TV invited you to a talk show the day after tomorrow."
"Huh? That soon?" Chu Zhi blinked. "Feels like the last episode just aired."
"It's time. They're airing your performance at the cultural forum," she explained.
"Oh, that's why. Do I have anything on my schedule?"
"Nothing urgent," she said. "Just depends on whether you want to expand into the Russian market."
She added, "The team suggests not going. The forum performance was strong enough to make an impact."
"Then let's go with 'very touched, but I have to decline,'" Chu Zhi said.
He wasn't against it—but he wanted to see how well "Opera 2" performed in this week's episode before investing time in Russia.
Niu nodded. She understood perfectly.
What could you do in two days?
In forty-eight hours, Chu Zhi could shoot a commercial, attend two events, and accept one award.
Don't be surprised he was always filming ads. Product endorsements weren't one-time deals—often, they required seasonal photo shoots and videos all year long.
And finally, the day Little Fruits had been waiting for arrived—November 26. Another chance to see Chu Zhi on screen.
Episode Two of THT's "Russian-Chinese Singers' Showcase" and Episode Seven of iQIYI's "Star Journey" both aired today. The former ran 150 minutes, the latter only 110. The content differed as well.
Outside of China, Russian audiences were also waiting eagerly. The last episode had left a cliffhanger: "How did the Chinese singer beat Aurora and Mikhail to win the cultural forum invite?"
In Russia, the buzz showed up on VKontakte (VK), the country's largest social media platform, with over 140 million users. The structure was like a cross between Weibo and old-school college networks.
THT's promotional tactics were bizarre, to say the least. They promised to pick one lucky commenter from the most popular post on VK… and give them a free Lada car.
Simple and direct!
With that kind of incentive, the post had over 100,000 comments before the episode even aired.
One of them was from Ilya: "Aurora is the crown jewel of our Russian music scene. No way she loses."
But he wasn't commenting for the prize. Twenty-five-year-old Ilya was a die-hard Aurora fan. His room had her CDs, posters, the works.
He admired her individuality. Not just on stage—Aurora was one of the few in all of Russia brave enough to publicly come out.
Why could she do it? Her powerful family background. No one dared touch her. Anyone else who tried had already been canceled.
"If Aurora had gotten that forum invite, I'd never have missed it."
Ilya mumbled to himself, eyes locked on the TV. He wasn't watching to figure out why she lost. He normally wouldn't even bother with a show if his goddess wasn't featured.
"If this episode doesn't give a good explanation, I know where THT's office is."
Harsh words. His name, Ilya, meant "God is my strength." He didn't have divine power—but definitely had a divine temper.
The show began with a recap, showing Chu Zhi scoring a 9, then launching into the Russian lullaby 🎵"Колыбельная"
"Возьми меня, люби меня, укрой той пеленой, что мы с тобой создали вдвоём…"🎵
"Not bad," Ilya muttered halfway through.
Of course, there were no bullet comments on TV. With them, reactions could be wildly different.
Ilya listened to the whole song, frowned, and admitted—it wasn't bad. Still, he stood by his opinion. Aurora should have won. Whether from personal taste or idol bias, he was not convinced.
He opened VK on his phone, hoping to find like-minded fans who might want to pay THT a visit.
But the top comments said:
"Only two episodes of Russian-Chinese Singers' Showcase? This one blows the first away."
"This lullaby is incredible. Exactly the kind of music I needed. No surprise he beat Aurora and Mikhail."
"This Chinese singer's voice transported me into a fairytale."
"So beautiful… he moved me even more than Aurora and Ilya."
As expected, the system's song recommendation was perfect. Even an unknown amateur could've gone viral with this track in the Russian internet scene.
But the overwhelming praise made Ilya furious.
"These commenters must have poop for brains. No taste at all."
Aurora's voice was divinely pure. Her high notes were like swan feathers. And now they say this Chinese guy moved them more? Madness!
===
Author Note:
The song 'Difficult Sutra' has two musical arrangements - one is the familiar 'Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils' theme song version we all know, and the other features a flamenco guitar intro in Spanish style.
===
"Колыбельная"("Kolybelnaya", Russian for "Lullaby")
"热爱105°的你"("Love You at 105°") Original artist: A Si 阿肆
"多想在平庸的生活拥抱你"("How Much I Want to Hold You in My Ordinary Life")
Original artist: Ge Bi Lao Fan (隔壁老樊)
"伤心太平洋"("Sad Pacific")
Chinese adaptation of the Japanese song "幸せ"("Shiawase" meaning "Happiness")
Original composer: Nakajima Miyuki (中島みゆき)