Studio One was packed to the brim during the Spring Festival Gala recording. The venue itself was large enough, with over twenty dressing rooms, but the sheer number of performers made space scarce.
Only the most popular sketch comedians and senior members of the national-level singers' roster could be assigned a dressing room.
Even top-tier celebrities had to do their makeup in the hallway. Chu Zhi, however, was an exception—whether because the deputy station director personally invited him, or simply because his popularity was too overwhelming to ignore.
"Captain, I feel like we're stepping on toes this time. Should we let one of the seniors have the room instead?" Luo Jianhui asked.
This was Luo Jianhui's third invitation to the Gala. Usually a man of few words, this year his mood was already soured by the fact that he would have to share the stage with a certain traffic-driven celebrity.
The entertainment industry was full of falsehoods, but real friendships did exist. Between his personal bond with Chu Zhi from Journey Among the Stars and the life-saving favor Chu Zhi had once done him, Luo Jianhui—normally silent to the point of being called a "big rice bucket"—was willing to speak so frankly.
If someone without a good relationship had said this, the tone would have been completely different.
"Brother Luo, let's not even mention that the room was assigned by the chief director. If I gave it up, it would be no different from questioning his decision," Chu Zhi replied. "More importantly, if I went straight to a senior and said, 'I'll give you my room,' that wouldn't exactly be respectful either."
"Where's the disrespect in that…?" Luo Jianhui didn't voice the thought, but after mulling it over, he had to admit there was a point.
Better to do nothing than to make a clumsy show of generosity. Besides, Luo Jianhui was here to hitch a spot in Chu Zhi's dressing room anyway. He wasn't the only one benefiting—so was Tan Yule, the singer performing with Chu Zhi.
Because the Gala was broadcast live, everyone was wound tight in the minutes leading up to the start.
The opening came with the rapid rhythm of gongs and drums. Six hosts stood beaming at the camera, taking turns with their lines:"Jade Rat chases winter away, Golden Ox brings spring to stay.""To all our friends watching and listening across China and around the world, as the Year of the Ox arrives, China Central Television's 2021 Spring Festival Gala comes to greet you here tonight!"
It was a familiar flavor, one the audience at home instantly recognized. Not that it had to be on a TV—every major streaming platform had the broadcast too.
Thanks to the line-up of traffic stars, plenty of young fangirls were glued to the screen, including those waiting for Emperor Beast's stage with the same eagerness as for the Lunar New Year feast itself.
Many of the Little Fruits made a point of turning the Gala on, even if they didn't actually watch, just to wait for their idol's performance.
Ling Zinan was one of them.
On New Year's Eve, his house was full—second uncle, aunts, grandparents, all gathered around the round dining table. As a die-hard Little Fruit, ever since returning from the Orange Festival, Ling Zinan recommended his idol to anyone who would listen.
"You're right, we should watch the Gala. I haven't seen it in years," Second Uncle said.
"Eh, it's been getting worse. Not as fun as it used to be," Aunt chimed in.
"What's the point of watching TV while eating? Talking as a family matters more," said First Uncle.
Grandfather had three children. Ling Zinan's father was the youngest and the most accomplished, while First Uncle, well into his fifties, still needed their parents to worry over him.
He wasn't a bad man—just useless. Always dreaming of big ventures, always bragging, never succeeding.
From primary school onward, Ling Zinan had listened to his uncle's same old boasts every New Year's Eve. In his eyes, being "useless" was worse than being "bad." Bad people could be cut off for good. Useless people dragged the whole family down.
Last year, First Uncle's business lost fifty thousand. The year before, two or three times that. Instead of savings, he ended every year in debt.
Cousin Ling Yu piped up. "I know why you're so eager. Your idol Chu Zhi is performing on the Gala."
"Yeah, yeah, I saw that too. It's all over Douyin and Kuaishou. They say Chu Zhi wrote a brand-new song just for it," added Cousin Sheng Wuxi.
Both of them knew because they'd been force-fed his enthusiasm.
"Kids getting into idols is bad for their studies. Don't think just because you did well this time, you'll have the same luck next time," First Uncle said, frowning in elder authority.
"Chu Zhi's a good kid," Ling Zinan's mother said suddenly.
Everyone at the table stared in surprise—she had never approved of his idol chasing before.
"Your mother and I watch the Gala every year. It's a habit," Grandfather told First Uncle.
That ended the debate. On small matters, the younger ones still listened to the elders.
Ling Zinan got his wish to watch on time. He could have eaten quickly and gone back to his room, but as a devoted fan, he wanted the whole family to see.
The older generation, like First Uncle and the aunts and grandparents, might have a taste gap. His mother had become half a Little Fruit, but that was because of Chu Zhi's personality, not his works. Still, Ling Yu and Sheng Wuxi might be swayed.
He had absolute faith that Jiu-yé's new song would be good.
The adults were in high spirits—it was the New Year, after all. Ling Zinan's father brought out his special stash, toasting one another with cup after cup.
Ling Yu and Sheng Wuxi picked at their food without much focus. If it weren't for the parents watching, they'd have had their phones glued to their hands, shoveling food in without looking.
"This sketch isn't funny at all."
"I told you the Gala's no good anymore. Same old thing."
"Boring. Just reheated soup every year."
"Well, Li Hong still sings like a pro."
Only the dance acts escaped criticism. Everything else got roasted as soon as it aired—even the grandparents frowned at some performances, like the group number with a top-tier actress.
Her lip-syncing was flawless, and she put her best acting skills into it, but the cutesy pouting was… too deliberate for Grandfather's taste.
The sketch Dad, I'm Back featured familiar faces and a guest appearance by Nan Kui from the boy group Scarlet Youth—yes, the one so jealous of Chu Zhi's fan unity that his eyes practically turned scarlet.
Sketches required stage presence like theater. Lines could be a little weak, but you had to hold the live audience. Without that, it was not just unfunny but awkward.
Nan Kui might have starred in three or four dramas, but did that make him an actor? Definitely not. His stiffness made the whole thing uncomfortable.
Ling Zinan, Ling Yu, and Sheng Wuxi all dropped their heads, toes curling hard enough to dig a three-bedroom apartment out of the floor.
The plot forced a heartwarming reunion. The gist: a stubborn son ignores his parents, leaves home for over a decade, racks up huge debts, and runs home for New Year's—only for his creditors to show up at his parents' house.
The creditors, learning he hadn't been home in years, felt sorry for the elderly couple and even helped cook, somehow turning the situation into a "comedy."
In the end, the creditors apologized, saying they only came because they couldn't make payroll. They apologized to the son and his parents, and the parents cheerfully forgave their prodigal child, everyone sitting down for a happy reunion dinner.
"What the heck? Paying debts is basic decency," Sheng Wuxi said.
Ling Yu nodded. "Sure, maybe asking for money on New Year's is bad luck, but the creditors didn't have a choice. Why should they apologize? I don't get it, but I'm shocked."
First Uncle didn't see a problem. As someone who was constantly in debt himself, he believed you never asked for repayment on New Year's Eve—it was too inauspicious. From his perspective, there was nothing more to say.
"They never even addressed the issues between the parents and the son. Just forced the sentiment," Grandfather sighed.