Everyone knew that Seoul was originally named Hanyang. Back then, Yi Seong-gye of the South Korean Yi Dynasty deeply admired the Han Dynasty. He wrote to Zhu Yuanzhang, requesting to rename his capital to "Hanseong." In modern times, to break away from China cultural influence, the name was changed to "Seoul."
Anyone with a bit of Korean knowledge knew that the word used to mean "capital." The renaming even led to changes in dictionaries, forcibly re-defining the term as a proper noun for a specific region.
Every city could be summed up in one word. Seoul's was strange. Out of South Korea's 50 million people, 25 million were crammed into this one city. Countless bizarre things happened there.
Meanwhile, the word for Shanghai was refined. How that refinement manifested was open to interpretation. Regardless, Chu Zhi had traveled from strange to refined.
Around 1 p.m., Chu Zhi landed at Pudong Airport. There to pick him up were Lao Qian, Wang Yuan, and Ma Weihao.
Once inside the van, the massage was arranged immediately.
Ma Weihao felt that Chu Zhi's neck was stiff. "Looks like you've been exhausted lately, brother Chu. Your neck's stiff as a board."
"Shooting a drama. Feeling tired is normal," Chu Zhi replied. Though truthfully, he didn't feel tired at all.
With income that high, shouldn't you work hard for it? Wouldn't it feel wrong to just accept it without breaking a sweat?
"When does the drama air? Will we be able to watch it on the mainland?" Ma Weihao asked while applying pressure.
"Go easy, go easy. I'm not great with pressure," Chu Zhi yelped. Lao Ma's hands were too strong.
"Gotta loosen your muscles and joints. If the force is too light, it won't work. Right, big sister?" Ma Weihao pulled Wang Yuan in to back him up.
Wang Yuan nodded in agreement. Seeing this, Ma Weihao dug in even harder. Not out of spite, but because the technique for relieving fatigue was different from the one for loosening tension. The latter simply hurt more.
Chu Zhi answered, "Tentatively scheduled for December. That way it lines up with the plot. Fried chicken and beer on a snowy day."
"It'll be introduced to the mainland too, though I'm not sure which platform yet," he added.
[Male lead: Chu Zhi]—regardless of production budget, cast, or even content, those five characters alone meant My Love From the Stars could sell for high prices in more than ten Asian countries.
Fried chicken and beer in the snow? What kind of tradition was that? Ma Weihao didn't agree. Was spicy chicken hot pot not tasty? Were skewers in boiling broth not fragrant enough?
The van headed toward the outskirts. No detour back to the company first. They were already too late for the 3 p.m. "Henan Flood Relief: Celebrity Charity Gala."
The event was organized by industry heavyweight Gu Minghong and the China National Charity Foundation. Chu Zhi was one of the seven founding figures.
Though "founding figure" sounded grand, Chu Zhi hadn't done much. The role was given purely because his fame was big enough.
After the brief arrangements, Wang Yuan finally spoke.
"I can never eat well in Seoul," she said. "I've already booked hot pot for dinner. Xiao Jiu should eat more tonight."
"Sounds perfect," Chu Zhi didn't stand on ceremony.
"Jiu-yé, Jiu-yé, I think it's my turn now. There's something rather urgent," said Lao Qian.
"Speak, brother Qian," Chu Zhi gave him his full attention.
"It's about Sino-Russian relations," Lao Qian said. "The culture and tourism ministry hopes Jiu-yé can take on a position at the Bureau of International Exchange and Cooperation."
He added, "It's a cultural exchange advisor role. Just an honorary title. They just want Jiu-yé to have a title under their department."
"What level is this honorary position?" Chu Zhi asked.
"Deputy division level," Lao Qian answered. "Same as a deputy director at the bureau. You need to think this through before you accept."
It was extremely rare for a celebrity to hold even an honorary advisory position with the government. If they entered politics, the highest they could usually go was a national committee seat, or perhaps even a spot in the National People's Congress.
For something like this to suddenly appear... even the Emperor Beast was deep in thought.
"If you've got thoughts, say them, Lao Qian. Why are you suddenly talking in circles like a man who just got engaged?" Wang Yuan saw right through him.
"Hehe, I do have some thoughts." Lao Qian grinned. "Jiu-yé, I looked into this carefully and have a few preliminary ideas."
Chu Zhi showed a listening posture.
"First of all, the Bureau of International Exchange and Cooperation is responsible for promoting culture and tourism abroad and in Hong Kong, Macao, and Taiwan. More specifically, they oversee cultural exports."
This unit wasn't flashy, but everything from films to music to novels—all artistic exports fell under its domain.
"The reason they want Jiu-yé in this honorary position boils down to two unique advantages that other singers can't compete with. You should be familiar with the 'Hanfu Cultural Pushback' event, right?"
Er... What was that? Chu Zhi was a bit lost.
Wang Yuan caught his confusion and explained, "During the China-Korea-Japan tri-nation performance, the song Xiao Jiu sang swept across Asia. The Hanfu he wore during the performance also went viral. On platforms like Shopee, Lazada, Lelong, EZbuy, and Yahoo Shopping, it ranked among the top ten in sales."
Those were some of the most prominent e-commerce platforms in Asia.
"More notably, many Korean and Japanese fans commented that their own hanbok and kimono couldn't compare to Hanfu," Wang Yuan said.
"The widespread popularity of Hanfu in Asia even surpassed that of hanbok and kimono. It was so rare, Global Times reported it as a 'Hanfu Cultural Pushback' event."
That news had gone viral at the same time as the hit song Left Finger Pointing at the Moon. The song had been so explosive, it actually overshadowed the Hanfu story.
The term "pushback" was interesting. It implied China was the one being encroached upon.
Thinking about it, that wasn't wrong. Japanese anime and Korean dramas had influenced a lot of young Chinese people to dress in hanbok or kimono for fun. And while there was nothing wrong with having fun, it still reflected a degree of cultural invasion.
"After all that, I thought I had a good grasp of my own influence," Chu Zhi muttered. "Turns out I underestimated it."
He had casually chosen a traditional straight-hem robe for the performance, and it had somehow turned into a major cultural export.
"The Hanfu pushback incident made the culture and tourism ministry realize just how enormous Jiu-yé's influence in Asia really is," Lao Qian said.
"That's the first reason. The second is more straightforward. Jiu-yé pioneered New Chinese Style music, creatively blending classical culture, and that's exactly the kind of innovation the government loves.
If either advantage were missing, or even slightly weaker, this role wouldn't be offered. Only Jiu-yé fits. No other celebrity could."
There were also deeper reasons Lao Qian didn't mention, like the two successful collaborations between Chu Zhi and the ministry in the past. He trusted Jiu-yé would understand those details himself.
"If you accept, you'll definitely get access to official promotional resources," Lao Qian added. "But it also means a sharp increase in official engagements. You'll be busier."
Chu Zhi's schedule was already packed. He had less than five days off per year.
If he took on more official responsibilities, he would have to cancel a lot of commercial appearances, shows, and activities.
Pros and cons came together.
"My personal recommendation is to accept," Lao Qian stated his view.
"A deputy division-level position is equivalent to the deputy chief of a city public security bureau or a deputy district head. Even if it's honorary, it makes everything much easier. I agree with Lao Qian," Wang Yuan said. "But we should still consult with Jiang Xue and the others."
That was reasonable. It was good to hear more opinions from industry veterans. Chu Zhi, inwardly, leaned toward rejecting the offer.
But he understood clearly that this reflexive response came from the instincts he developed as a businessman in his past life. Being an artist was not the same as doing business.
After another ten minutes or so, the van stopped at A1. Chu Zhi stepped into the venue. Since it was a charity dinner, the interior wasn't overly ornate. The overall tone leaned toward muted greys.
The official media hadn't arrived yet. Chu Zhi was early. Just as he reached the center of the hall, a spirited old man strode up to him.
"Xiao Chu, I've been hearing your name a lot from my friends this year."
It was Gu Minghong. In this parallel world, his status felt very similar to Ge You's on Earth. He had achieved tremendous success in both feature films and holiday comedies.
"I grew up watching Director Gu's New Year films. My grandfather loved him the most," said Chu Zhi, the second half of his sentence flowing unconsciously from memory.
The original Chu Zhi had been a pretty filial grandson. Whether it was his grandfather's favorite singer, Xiong Ke, or his favorite actor, Gu Minghong, he remembered them all clearly.
"The flooding in Greentown was just too severe," Gu Minghong said with a heavy sigh. "That's why we had no choice but to organize this fundraiser. For ordinary families, the damage is devastating."
The two began discussing the recent flood in Greentown in more detail. Gu Minghong said, "There aren't many young people like you anymore, Little Chu, who are so passionate about charity."
Chu Zhi had been one of the founding organizers of the "Henan Province Flood Relief Celebrity Charity Gala" and donated three million yuan—by far the largest single contribution of the event.
"When one region is in trouble, aid must come from all sides," said Chu Zhi.
Gu Minghong had always been deeply committed to charitable work. He'd hosted many charity events and invited plenty of high-profile celebrities, but whenever it came to actually donating, most would shy away.
Not that it could be helped. Donating money was an act of kindness, not an obligation.
"Come, Xiao Chu, let me introduce someone to you." Gu Minghong led Chu Zhi toward the back, where he introduced Zhou Minfu, the vice president of the national charity organization. He had previously served as the secretary for Global Times.
What stood out most to Chu Zhi about Vice President Zhou was his downturned mourning-brows and his signature greeting style.
But as soon as Zhou Minfu saw Chu Zhi, twenty-four characters flashed through his mind like lightning:
"Prosperity, democracy, civility, harmony, freedom, equality, justice..."
That's right. He was that mysterious benefactor addicted to anonymous donations!
Zhou Minfu had taken note of Chu Zhi ever since he anonymously donated fifty million yuan the previous year. As of this month, the total had risen to seventy million. Zhou Minfu had even wanted to sing The Internationale out loud.
"Teacher Chu, I've long heard of your name!" Zhou Minfu greeted him warmly.
Even Gu Minghong found it a bit odd. Zhou Minfu wasn't the kind to be overly formal, so by rights, he should've called him "Xiao Chu." Yet here he was, addressing him with such reverence.
Seeing the official charity organization's name again, Chu Zhi had the sudden urge to donate more. He had recently donated another twenty million yuan from his anonymous "Tree Planter" account. Not because he liked anonymity, but because that was how you progressed toward the [Charity King] achievement.
"If I donate another twenty million tonight, I'll unlock the next [Charity King] milestone and earn nine Personality Coins. Sweet." He made a mental note.
The Emperor Beast is not some kind of saint. He was just committed to donating 5–10% of his income—nothing excessive. Part of it was done publicly at events like this, and part of it anonymously, to rack up points.
Five to ten percent might not seem like much, but Chu Zhi earned too much. Last year, he made 800 million yuan. This year, even without luxury brand endorsements, his earnings would easily top a billion.
The event officially started at 3:30 p.m.
Under the leadership of Chu Zhi and six other initiators, the guests at the event donated a total of 34.9 million yuan. The entire sum would be overseen by Gu Minghong and distributed to Greentown via the official charity platform.
By 5:30 p.m., Chu Zhi returned to his studio. Sitting down at his desk, the first thing he saw was over a dozen song invitation requests.
No surprise. Included were stars like Fist Girl, who rose to fame on Douyin thanks to her hit song "I Love You at 105°C," and badminton boy Zhou Yuyi. The rest were mostly acquaintances hoping to get a song from him.
Without Chu Zhi's presence on Douyin and other short-video platforms, even though there were still a few viral songs, none had the same dominance as his signature "Trash Can" style tracks. Netizens had been craving that flavor for a long time.
Lin JJ, Ge Jaylen, Tao Jiji—all of them had penned many songs for others, especially Ge Jaylen, who had been prolific.
Even Mo Qingqing wanted a song. She had been one of the representatives from Huaxia at the Hokkaido Song Festival and was a diehard Little Fruits fan—and a loyal one at that. Their relationship was quite good.
There were two emails from her. The first was a formal invitation from her agency. The second came from Mo herself.
"Jiu-yé, save me! I want to sing a Trash Can Godsong too and fulfill my dream. Please, I'm begging you, help this child!"
Chu Zhi fell into thought. Mo Qingqing's dream, huh?
"I met Mo Qingqing at the Hokkaido Song Festival. Her birthday is November 7th."
"Mo Qingqing scored 97 on her compulsory education tests. Her dad and uncle are both loaded and generous with money..." Chu Zhi went layer by layer through his memory.
Her phone number was 159789870**… but the rest? He couldn't remember.
"As expected, anything beyond the scope of memory is pushing it."
The Emperor Beast gave up.
Still, he felt there was a song that would really suit Mo Qingqing: I'm Willing to Stay Ordinary and Stay by Your Side.
Just from the title alone, 99% of listeners probably wouldn't recognize it. But mention the lyrics, and many would go, "Oh, that song."
🎵 Ugly ones live long, pretty ones age fast. I'd rather be an ugly freak, optimistic and cute... 🎵
Catchy, simple, and most importantly, it fit Mo Qingqing's vibe—kind of quirky but endearing.
Chu Zhi replied to her with a message agreeing to write her a song. There were still a few more invites to go through, but no time now—he had to get to the meeting room.
He worked overtime again until ten. Once more, he was among the last to leave the building. This time, it wasn't Grandpa Chen escorting him, but Brave Niu Niu.
As they left the company, Chu Zhi said something to his main agent.
"Sister Niu, can you free up an hour for me around 3 p.m. tomorrow?"
She checked the next day's schedule. He had a flight at 4:50 p.m. to Singapore for a signing event with MRT.
"We can delay the flight," she replied. "It won't be an issue."
"Thanks, Sister Niu." Chu Zhi expressed his gratitude.
He had some personal matters to attend to. Earlier, he'd learned that Su Shangbai had returned from Southeast Asia and messaged him saying he needed help—with something that had to be discussed face-to-face.
That meant it was important.
Once the time was locked in, they agreed to meet at a private boutique café. Both were incredibly busy, so it would be a quick meet to talk business.
A new day arrived. The Emperor Beast got up early, suddenly wondering if he should do some morning exercise.
After a few seconds of consideration, he gave up. Morning workouts required consistency. Doing it once didn't count for anything.
Today was the 19th of August: a Gengzi year, Jiashen month, Jiawu day—a day of general inauspiciousness. To counteract that, Chu Zhi pulled a daily fortune card from Orange Home.
[Super Lucky: Today, you will be divinely assisted. Unprecedented good fortune awaits. Go go go!]
Chu Zhi believed in any superstition that worked in his favor. After drawing that card, his morning flight departed right on time—while all the other flights were delayed.
At CCTV Headquarters (nicknamed the Big Underpants), Chu Zhi was there to record an episode of Cherish Your Youth, a show where celebrities shared a book they recommended, aiming to encourage young people to read more.
He was a perfect fit. The Emperor Beast chose to share Tomb, a collection of essays by Zhou Shuren.
Yes, Zhou Shuren existed in this parallel world too.
One iconic line from the book stood out, famous for its controversy and impact:
"China's greatest and most enduring art form is men playing women."
Those who knew, knew. Those who didn't, didn't need to. Knowing too much could be dangerous.
As soon as he finished recording, Chu Zhi rushed to Capital Airport. He'd long grown used to life as an airborne Superman.
At around 3 p.m., he arrived at the boutique café as scheduled.
It had been over half a year since they last met. Su Shangbai looked noticeably thinner—life in Southeast Asia had clearly been intense.
Su invited Chu Zhi to attend tomorrow's shareholders' meeting for the Dabai Gummy Company. Chu Zhi had a 15% stake from the beginning and had full rights to attend.
After more than a year of growth, Dabai Gummy had secured A-round funding from CITIC Capital. Su gave up 18.8% of his shares to raise 600 million yuan, making it the highest-valued candy company in the country.
The company now had four shareholders: Chu Zhi with 15%, Su Shangbai with 53%, CITIC Capital with 18.8%, and Ali Investment with 11.2%. The remaining 2% was held by top executives as incentive stock.
Chu Zhi figured there must be some business issue. Even though Su Shangbai still held majority control, he usually gave proxy voting rights to Su, meaning he could make executive decisions alone.
"I should be in Singapore tomorrow," Chu Zhi said. "Flight's tonight. Got to attend a launch for a brand I represent."
Su Shangbai frowned. Chu Zhi thought he was mulling over shareholder matters, but then Su Shangbai said—
"Isn't the second episode of Back to the Countryside 4 airing tonight?"
"Yeah, it is. Wait—you watch it too?" Chu Zhi was surprised. He didn't think Su Shangbai, being so busy, had time for variety shows.
"It's pretty good," Su Shangbai nodded. Then changed the subject. "There's a proposal I'm unsure about."
Su Shangbai laid out a new sales strategy for their gummy blind boxes. Currently, Dabai sold seven flavors. The idea was to randomize each box so customers wouldn't know what flavor they'd get.
It sounded like a solid plan to Chu Zhi. The cost of the gummies wouldn't change, so customers weren't losing out. It just added a little surprise to the experience. They could even ride the blind box trend and pitch it as a story to investors to boost valuation.
"I don't agree with this plan," said Su Shangbai.
Only then did Chu Zhi remember: Su Shangbai really disliked blind boxes. But this was different, right? It wasn't like gambling-based boxes. Just randomized candy. Wasn't Su being a bit too rigid?
"What's your reason for opposing it?" Chu Zhi asked.
===
"我愿意平凡的陪在你身边" (Wǒ Yuànyì Píngfán de Péizài Nǐ Shēnbiān) — I'm Willing to Stay Ordinary and Stay by Your Side
Original Artist: 不甚了了 (Bu Shen Liao Liao)