"We cannot let this Chinese man keep strutting around like this."
At this moment, Higuchi Hanato was like a spoiled child who, if he could not have something, wanted to destroy it.
He had once wanted to befriend Chu Zhi because Chu Zhi was exceptionally talented. But after being rejected, his goodwill turned to resentment. Then, he thought of someone. More precisely, a band.
Higuchi Hanato called the lead singer of "Seven Man"—Leighton. Despite the name, Seven People was a famous British rock band with five members, ranked among the top tier globally.
Leighton, the band's frontman, was a known racist and an advocate of the "Yellow Peril" theory. He frequently made outrageous remarks.
For example: "The melting of the Antarctic glaciers is primarily the fault of China," or "If we ranked the least eco-friendly peoples in the world, the Chinese would be second, right after primitive tribes who have no concept of environmental protection."
Music festivals were nothing like competitions where you could win first or second place. After all, the point was to enjoy the music. But some festivals had their own quirks. For example, the Fuji Outdoor Rock Festival sometimes ran "applause challenges," where the audience's response could determine a band's success.
Similarly, the Wacken Metal Festival had a rule: after a guest band performed a song, they could only play a second if the audience's "encore" calls were loud enough.
Higuchi Hanato's plan was simple—get Leighton to make some inflammatory remarks on stage and stir up trouble. Once a comparison was drawn, the contrast would speak for itself.
When the call went through, Higuchi Hanato expected it would be hard to convince Leighton. No matter how much someone hated the Chinese, picking a fight without cause was risky. To his surprise, Leighton agreed almost instantly.
After hanging up, Higuchi Hanato even wondered if his influence was really that great.
Of course, it was not. Leighton had simply become someone else's pawn.
That "someone else" was Adidas, whose sales in Asia had been sluggish. If their rival was coming into their home turf, how could they sit back without making a move?
Chu Zhi's own brand partners had tried to block such moves behind the scenes, but if covert tactics failed, then Adidas would go straight for a direct clash by inviting other performing guests to go head-to-head.
"The most popular singer in China?" Leighton sneered when he saw Chu Zhi's photo. "He does not even look like he belongs in rock music."
The payoff from Adidas was easy money.
Whether Chu Zhi could rock or not would be seen on the stage. Right now, Leighton had more pressing concerns—finding a bathroom.
Music festivals were profitable even down to the basics. Using the toilet cost money—not much, maybe a dozen euros for ten visits—but enough to make you pay attention.
And trust this: you would never want to use the free toilets. It was like believing someone else's cat had truly reformed—it sounded nice, but reality said otherwise.
By nightfall, the small town was even livelier. There were barbecues, bonfires, and people having a great time together. The atmosphere was electric.
Chu Zhi even saw a tourist's camper van get stuck, and people nearby immediately stepped in to help. Many here seemed naturally friendly, perhaps not in their everyday lives, but in the right atmosphere, their warmth came out.
He looked for some late-night snacks, but whether it was a matter of picking the wrong stall or simply German flavors, nothing quite suited his taste.
"Mm… this is awful," Chu Zhi muttered after taking a bite.
Bad taste did not stop him from eating more. After all, he had eaten a rare item before that allowed him to enjoy good food without gaining weight—but it did nothing for food that tasted bad. That still added pounds.
Since filming had wrapped, he wanted to get his weight back to normal for the peace of mind of his Little Fruits fans.
The next day, it rained.
The train to Berlin was slightly delayed, and for the first time, Chu Zhi learned that even trains could run late here.
Germany projected an image of precision and punctuality to the world, but anyone who had visited knew it was not always as advertised.
Xiao Zhu had apparently gotten a bit of food poisoning last night and was taken to the hospital, so today only Lao Qian accompanied Chu Zhi. Without his assistant nearby, things felt a little less convenient.
The shoot location was Lake Wannsee in Berlin's Steglitz-Zehlendorf district. This was historically the site where the Nazi Party's policies for the extermination of Jews were finalized.
The client had set up a temporary studio here, and Chu Zhi quickly got into makeup—just a light touch-up. With his looks, heavy makeup was unnecessary.
The brand was Berman Lighting, a global high-end lighting company and one of Germany's top firms. They had an operations hub in Guangzhou, which was why they had invested heavily to sign Chu Zhi as their Asian spokesperson.
The commercial also featured the female lead, Susan Braun, a well-known German actress and former Berlin Film Festival Best Actress winner.
Susan wore a white blouse and a pencil skirt, with three- to four-centimeter heels. Her long, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders. She had the refined air of an elegant, professional woman.
"Mr. Chu, hello. Nice to meet you," she greeted in slightly awkward Mandarin.
Susan was one-quarter Chinese, a Chinese-English mixed-race woman. Her maternal grandfather had emigrated from China to the UK, though she had grown up in Britain and had never been to China.
"Ms. Braun, it is a pleasure to work with you," Chu Zhi replied, pleasantly surprised.
"And with you as well," Susan said with a smile.
While Berman was powerful, it was not so lavish as to hire a Best Actress for just any ad. In this case, Susan was already Berman Lighting's global ambassador.
Before long, the bearded commercial director bustled over. With two big-name stars in front of him, his manner was respectful.
The ad script was short, only half a page.
Susan's character would return home after a hard day's work to find Chu Zhi's character working under the warm light of a new Berman eye-care desk lamp.
They would exchange gentle conversation, then switch on the classic Berman ceiling lamp and small spotlights in the dining room, enjoying dinner together in a cozy, glowing atmosphere.
The plot was familiar, the kind of template seen in countless commercials. Its only touch of refinement was having Chu Zhi and Susan as the leads.
"Our goal is simple," the director explained. "Convey the warm, comfortable, peaceful feeling of a home lit by Berman Lighting, in line with our brand style. Any questions?"
Susan had none, and after his training with Director Wang, Chu Zhi could breeze through a commercial shoot.
Berman's team had done their homework on Asian market preferences. They knew family-oriented imagery worked well for advertising.
The shoot went smoothly. Chu Zhi had set aside the entire morning, but they wrapped in just one hour.
"Ms. Braun, could I get your autograph?"
"I really loved your performance in Naraka. You truly deserved your Best Actress award."
"My whole family loves your work."
…
After filming, a crowd of staff gathered around Susan. In Asia, this was the kind of reception Chu Zhi was used to. Today, he slipped quietly back to his van without any obstruction.
The difference was clear—there were no Chinese crew members here.
Asia and the West really did have a cultural divide. It was like when My Love from the Star swept across Asia—Netflix poured resources into it for the Western market, yet it barely made a ripple.
Even Sugar had been a big hit, but only the song, not the singer. Chu Zhi's road to conquering Europe and America was still a long journey.
In the afternoon, he attended a Sino-German cultural exchange event as one of China's artist representatives. It felt like the cultural tourism department had been giving him more official tasks lately.
It was nine at night by the time he returned to his hotel. Before heading back, he stopped at the hospital to check on Xiao Zhu, who was recovering well.
Tomorrow would mark the opening of the largest metal music festival in the world.