"Big bro, we just received a large donation to the Foundation," said Xu Hongqian.
Xu Hongqian was the younger sister of Xu Ji and helped manage the Rock Relief Foundation. The foundation was Xu Ji's brainchild, supported by a few veteran rock musicians, but Xu Ji invested the most—both in money and effort. He poured seventy percent of his audio copyright income into it.
There would always be people willing to support their own circle. On Earth, there were writers like Meng Ru Shen Ji and Wu Zui who had also launched similar "Million-Yuan Support Programs."
Everyone knew that in the world of online fiction, only one in a hundred authors got signed. And of those hundred, maybe one would get their work officially published, which was the only way to qualify for the "full attendance bonus."
Most writers earned nothing at all. The program by Meng Ru Shen Ji and Wu Zui aimed to give a monthly living stipend of 500 to 1,000 yuan to writers who were seriously writing but hadn't yet made any money—just enough to keep them afloat.
Unfortunately, that Million-Yuan Support Program didn't last long.
As websites began offering better contracts—some even granting the full attendance bonus upon signing—things changed. In a way, Meng Ru Shen Ji and Wu Zui had successfully pressured platforms into improving their policies.
In contrast, the Rock Relief Foundation kept running. It offered real help to bands or individuals with great ideas but no money to record an album.
"A big donation? Is it from the guys from Yangmian?" Xu Ji reacted instinctively.
The band Yangmian had relied on the foundation for their debut album seven years ago. Since then, whenever they made money, they'd always give something back to the foundation.
Of course, very few people actually returned the favor. Not even one in ten did. Even fewer managed to break through. Most so-called talented musicians were swept away by the tide before they ever touched the shore.
"The donor is Chu Zhi. He gave three million," said Xu Hongqian.
[Three million]. [Chu Zhi]. Those two words instantly snapped Xu Ji out of his casual state.
He leaned in to read the donation page. The message from Chu Zhi read: "Contributing a small piece to Chinese rock. Hoping more great musicians can emerge."
"Xiao Chu..." Seasoned veteran Xu Ji only needed a moment to understand why this donation happened. He couldn't help but say, "No wonder Old Zheng keeps calling him 'little brother' all the time. You can't find fault in anything Xiao Chu does."
"What do you mean, big bro?" Xu Hongqian was puzzled.
"Didn't you read the news these past couple of days?" asked Xu Ji. "He made headlines all over Asia."
"You mean the Fuji Rock Festival? Of course I saw it," Xu Hongqian replied. "But what does that have to do with this?"
"I gave up my own spot so Xiao Chu could perform," Xu Ji said. "His live audio from the show sold nearly seven million in just three days. The way I see it, if he can make money around the world, that's his own ability."
Is an opportunity worth three million? Depends how you look at it. If Chu Zhi had tried to hand Xu Ji that money directly, Xu Ji would've refused flat out. But as a donation to the foundation in the name of rock's revival, there was no way to turn it down.
A generous person. Chu Zhi was someone who truly understood gratitude. That thought warmed Xu Hongqian's heart. She made a note: if Chu Zhi ever held a concert, she'd definitely buy a ticket to support him.
A nice idea—only question was, would she even be able to get a ticket?
That three-million donation was Chu Zhi acting on a whim. Compared to his deals with Journey Among the Stars or Xiangwang smartphones, this wasn't even worth noting. He didn't even involve his agency.
Mango TV knew how to produce variety shows. They had created plenty of memorable content. But one shouldn't expect too much from them—after all, they stretched Transfiguration into nineteen seasons.
Midday sunlight poured down, coating everything in a soft gold sheen.
It was a perfect time for sunbathing. Two dogs lay sprawled out, tongues lolling, eyes locked on the fruit platter on the table.
Lan Wuyi, Kun Yun, Chu Zhi, Chen Mei, and a few others sat beneath the bamboo gazebo in the courtyard, enjoying the cool breeze and chatting. Back to the Countryside was a show good at crafting idyllic scenes.
And really, you couldn't blame audiences struggling on the poverty line for enjoying the laid-back lives of the already financially free. Mango TV just knew how to film it beautifully.
Chu Zhi rested his chin in one hand, tilting his head as he listened to Chef Lan and Chen Mei share stories from the music scene. Occasionally, he nodded along in agreement. He knew when to speak and when to listen. In this day and age, there were too few good listeners.
No wonder the Japanese fans had nicknamed the "Emperor Beast" a "ragdoll fairy among men"—he was simply too good-looking.
Like Tan Lu, who sat pretending to listen to Chef Lan but was really sneaking glances at her idol.
"A guest is arriving soon. An old friend of mine. Da Kong, can you go pick her up?" said Lan Wuyi. "To be exact, she's my junior from the Central Academy of Drama."
"Who is it? Where am I picking her up?" Zhou Dakong got up, already one foot out the door.
"Ban Ke, the youngest Asian winner of Best Actress at the Venice Film Festival. You're definitely her senior," Lan Wuyi said.
"Ban Ke?!" Zhou Dakong exclaimed. He didn't recognize the name at first. What shocked him was the mention of the Venice Film Festival.
"Oh? Another guest?" Kun Yun chimed in.
"It's been ages since we met. She happened to be filming in Yunnan, so I invited her to stop by the Mushroom House afterward," Lan Wuyi explained.
"Ah, the all-knowing man from Central Academy. Your charm never changes, Lan," said Chen Mei.
"Now that's just slander, Mei. Weren't you the school's famous heartthrob? Half our class had a crush on you," Lan Wuyi teased.
"That was long ago. Why bring it up now?" said Chen Mei.
Central Drama was full of beautiful people, and Chen Mei had stood out even among them. Many short videos under the tag Weren't We All Gorgeous Back Then featured her. But she didn't enjoy that kind of praise.
Lan Wuyi had hoped to exchange compliments—he himself was once a heartthrob too—but since that didn't pan out, he switched the topic to the new guest.
They chatted about Ban Ke's acting talent, which also served as an indirect introduction for viewers who didn't know her. That way, once the episode aired, the audience would already be familiar.
Zhou Dakong set off to pick her up from the village entrance. On the way, he pondered when he might win Best Actress at an international film festival himself.
He felt his acting was decent. In fact, he took his craft seriously. Not as seriously as Chu Zhi maybe, but still—he just needed a chance!
Zhou Dakong's idle musings came to a halt under a tree at the village entrance, where he met the guest. Ban Ke was 31 this year.
Most actresses took good care of themselves, often looking younger than their age. But Ban Ke's crow's feet, forehead lines, and overall aura made her appear closer to 37 or 38.
"Ms. Ban, Ms. Ban, I'm Zhou Dakong. Just call me Dakong. I'm here to show you the way," he greeted warmly and reached for her luggage.
Ban Ke instinctively pulled the suitcase behind her and said, "No need, Mr. Dakong. It's light. I'll manage."
Mr. Dakong… The polite distance in her words washed over him like a cold bucket of water. Zhou Dakong suddenly found himself tongue-tied.
"Ah—sure, no problem," he said lamely, leading the way. He tried to strike up conversation a few times along the way, but none of it went anywhere.
It wasn't that Ban Ke ignored him. Quite the opposite. She replied politely every time he spoke. But there was a subtle, unexplainable sense of distance that made real conversation impossible.
Ban Ke herself was working hard to break that barrier. She accepted the invite, took the appearance fee—she knew what the producers wanted.
Even if her heart felt a little bitter, she needed the money. What could she do?
Whether it was the details of her divorce or her battle with depression, she would talk about it.
Whether she liked it was one thing. Whether she'd cooperate was another.
As for the producer claiming the show was "raising awareness for mental health," Ban Ke just smiled and said nothing.
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梦入神机 (Meng Ru Shen Ji) and 无罪 (Wu Zui) are well-known Chinese web novel authors who once launched the "Million-Yuan Support Program" to financially assist aspiring writers.