"Oh? My plaques for hitting one hundred thousand and one million followers have arrived."
At the parcel locker in his residential complex, Chu Zhi retrieved the package and brought it home. The moment he saw the Bilibili logo on the box, he already knew what it was.
"Never would've thought… I actually became a million-follower uploader," Chu Zhi murmured to himself.
"Where should I hang it?" After a moment of thought, Chu Zhi decided on the shelf above the sofa.
With that done, he planned to spend some time house hunting. The room he used to store Little Fruits' gifts and letters was already full again, and he needed another place.
Chu Zhi even considered renting a dedicated warehouse. There were still several years left until the eight-year promise, so continuously buying property might be unnecessary.
Honestly, who would have thought that the letters and gifts you sent to your idol would be carefully kept for years? Eight years is enough for a high school student to graduate from college and start working.
Think about it—back when you were a student, you might have been caught up in fan fever, sending gifts to your favorite star. Eight years later, you're working, more mature, and might even feel secondhand embarrassment over your youthful impulsiveness. But if that same idol takes out the gift you gave back then, what kind of emotion would that stir in you?
To be fair, Chu Zhi really did go all out to keep his fans engaged.
About a week later, Chu Zhi got himself a theremin. Those with a bit of cultural knowledge would know—it was the world's first electronic instrument, shaped somewhat like a Wi-Fi router. Emperor Beast had no idea how to play it yet and would need to learn before filming a video.
Whether it was the talent of Farinelli or Cheng Dieyi, Chu Zhi's speed at picking up new instruments was truly fast.
Since his alternate identity was already exposed, his management team naturally wanted to maximize the benefit. Simply put, Bilibili had to make it worth his while to stay on the platform.
Bilibili was a traffic powerhouse, especially with its original variety project "B Program." Many big-name celebrities came there to promote their films, making it an established channel.
While Chu Zhi's reach wasn't quite as massive, his Little Fruits fanbase was fiercely loyal—and known for spending freely. In short, he had the leverage to negotiate.
In the end, Chu Zhi signed on as a "Specially Invited Uploader" with Bilibili, at a "friendship price" of 40 million yuan for one year.
The wording mattered: "An artist specially invited by Bilibili to become an uploader" gave both sides face.
Bilibili's financial reports showed losses year after year, but loss didn't mean poverty. In reality, the company had plenty of money, though it was also notoriously stingy in the industry.
Apart from splurging a little on its annual gala to invite celebrities, they wouldn't willingly spend a single extra coin.
This in turn proved that Chu Zhi was no longer just an artist in the eyes of capital—he represented a considerable force that couldn't be ignored.
Becoming a specially invited uploader meant his videos could no longer be as casual. At the very least, he had to show his face sometimes. It took him two weeks to get the basics of the theremin down. Once filming was done, the post-production could be left to his studio.
Chu Zhi didn't have to force himself to make flashy videos. He could keep uploading his usual instrument practice clips, just with a few extra words of explanation.
This month, another thing was being released—the 2021 Forbes China Celebrity List.
The ranking covered achievements between January 15, 2020 and December 30, 2021, including entertainers from mainland China, Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan, as well as behind-the-scenes figures like screenwriters, and even models and online personalities. Evaluation criteria were commercial value and the influence of one's works.
This list differed from the Hurun Power List, which only looked at income and didn't interview subjects, relying purely on its own investigations.
#1 – Chu Zhi
Forbes China Research Institute's overall evaluation:
If there were an Asia Celebrity List, Mr. Chu would undoubtedly take first place.Unfortunately, there isn't one—only the "Asia 30 Under 30" list, on which Chu Zhi is also ranked first.
We judge him from both his singing and acting careers. His albums "Ode to the Orange Tree" and "After the Clouds Clear" caused a sensation, and many singles became hits across Asia's streets and alleys. As for acting, one drama "My Love From the Stars" is enough to say it all.
Chu Zhi was no longer simply standing above the mountains of China—he was at the peak of all Asia.
The ranking and evaluation barely caused a ripple. It seemed the public took it for granted that Chu Zhi would be number one.
January slipped quickly into February, and the festive spirit grew stronger.
Even if one's home didn't feel festive, the streets and alleys did. Trees were hung with small red lanterns, wrapped with strings of holiday lights, and topped with large "Fortune" knots.
For Chinese people, the year only truly ended after Lunar New Year's Eve. Coincidentally, "My Love From the Stars" was also nearing its end, airing two episodes a week.
In South Korea, its average viewership rating had reached 35.1 percent—an astounding figure. Even before episode 11 finished airing, one classic scene nearly broke the 50 percent mark for a single episode.
Usually, the finale scores the highest ratings, so "My Love From the Stars" was destined to become a national-level drama. The only question was how high it would rank among the top shows.
For now, its place in the all-time top fifty was already a phenomenal achievement.
Chu Zhi once again came to the CCTV Headquarters building. This time, it wasn't for a joint rehearsal—Emperor Beast had finished writing an original song.
"Director Li, this song isn't a patriotic piece, nor is it in the Chinese traditional style, but I think it suits the Spring Festival Gala stage," Chu Zhi said.
If it was neither of those, wasn't that off-topic?
What good was "suiting the Gala stage" if it didn't fit the theme? It was like writing an essay for the college entrance exam—no matter how well you wrote it, if you went off-topic, your score would suffer.
Chief Director Li Yong had many thoughts but said nothing aloud. To write a song surpassing "Chinese" or "Faraway" in just one month was indeed a tall order.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he looked at the sheet music. The title read: "Always Go Home and Visit."
🎵 Find some free time, find a little time, take the children and go home often to visit.Bring along a smile, bring along good wishes, and take your beloved to go home often to visit… 🎵
Just from reading the lyrics, without even hearing the melody, Li Yong felt this was unbelievably fitting.
"One time, my studio colleagues were talking about going home for the New Year, and that's where I got the inspiration for this song," Chu Zhi explained. "I think it fits pretty well."
"This doesn't just fit the Spring Festival Gala—this song was born for the Spring Festival Gala!" Li Yong declared firmly after finishing the lyrics.
"I'll tell the higher-ups right away. The so-called conditions and theme restrictions are only blocking Teacher Chu's creativity. Please wait here a moment."
With that, Li Yong bustled off, though he made sure to tell the receptionist to treat Chu Zhi well before leaving.
Why had Chu Zhi gone beyond the "assigned theme" to write "Always Go Home and Visit"? Because this song was a cherished part of his own memories of the Spring Festival Gala. Adding it to the world felt right.
Meanwhile, Li Yong found the deputy station chief and handed over the sheet music. The reaction was the same—they agreed nothing else could compare.
After all, asking Chu Zhi to sing a patriotic song or a traditional-style one was never a mandatory political task. It was just thought to be the safer choice. But now that they had a better option, why not take it?
On his way back to the reception room, Li Yong suddenly remembered the lyrics—Always Go Home and Visit. Where exactly were Chu Zhi's parents and grandfather? Did he ever go back to see them?
===
Author Note:
An Explanation of Always Go Home and Visit
The songwriter Che Xing wrote this piece out of grief for his departed father. Believe it or not—that's the real story behind it.
Given Chu Zhi's identity and personality, this song feels like a fitting choice, right?
As for why the song suits a soaring female voice, the truth is, during the 1999 Spring Festival Gala, Always Go Home and Visit was actually performed as a male-female duet. I'll be writing about that later as well, so rest assured this wasn't some impulsive decision.
Every song that appears in my writing is chosen with thought. Perhaps my choices are not perfect, but they should never feel abrupt.
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"常回家看看" Chang Hui Jia Kan Kan ("Always Go Home and Visit") – original by Chen Xiaoxia 陈小霞 (composer), Chen Xiangmei 陈祥梅 (lyricist), first popularized by Chen Hong 陈红, Xie Xiaodong 谢晓东, and Yu Taikang 尤太康 in 1999 Spring Festival Gala performance.