[Strawberry Music Festival · Gui City]
Sweet strawberries, slightly sweet youth, a music carnival exclusively for the young!
(October 12–13 at Gui City Shanshan Outlets & Guangda City Central Shugu Avenue)
Guests: Sour Grape Band / Cao Mang / Zhang Youmo / Riding Pigs to Fly / Zhou Yuyi …
Fresh Blood Program: King's Game / Weaving White …
Special Guest: Chu Zhi
The Fresh Blood Program refers to bands or artists who have only debuted or formed within the past two years. They are invited to fill the stage lineup, since music festivals cannot only feature major stars. At the same time, festivals are also one of the rare stepping stones for new musicians to advance.
The schedule chart showed each guest's performance time. Chu Zhi was slated for 4 p.m. on the 13th.
As soon as the two posters were released on Strawberry Music Festival's official Weibo and Modern Sky's Weibo, the news was picked up by countless media outlets. It spread like a sudden storm after heavy clouds, and the heat rose in a frenzy.
Netizen comments:
My Adorable Orange: [屮?]
Whole Family You Rich Dog: [Jiu-yé is really going to the music festival? Could it be someone with the same name? No way. Surely Strawberry wouldn't dare touch porcelain with something like this.]
Domineering Long Bird: [Quick, quick, open ticket sales @Strawberry Music Festival.]
Cat Picking Vegetables: [Yesterday was my birthday and I wished to see Xiao Jiu live. And today my wish is coming true? That's too magical!]
Hua Mu: [I must be dreaming because I woke up too early. Let me sleep again and check later.]
The news spread like a whirlwind, shared and commented on by fans everywhere. The hashtag #ChuZhiAppearsAtStrawberry# shot straight to trending.
About half an hour after Modern Sky's post, Chu Zhi's own account also confirmed the announcement, settling any doubts.
Lin Xia, who had Chu Zhi's Weibo set as a priority account, received the notification immediately. At that time, Lin Xia was busy on set. Thanks to Chu Zhi's success in film and television, Lin Xia had also begun transitioning into acting, leveraging his popularity to land three roles.
"Music festival? Doesn't participating lower one's artistic status? Why take this step?" Lin Xia muttered to himself. "If it were an international music festival, maybe. But a domestic one? Absolutely not.
This move… I really don't understand." He wondered if he should follow suit.
As one of the rare pan-Asian megastars in China's entertainment industry, Chu Zhi's every move caused ripples throughout the scene. Just as when he once made every agency push their trainees to pass the national English Level Four exam.
Whenever a trainee slacked off, managers would whip out screenshots carefully compiled:
"How can you not love a man who knows multiple languages?"
"Please, brother Jiu, release a language tutorial. Who even self-studies Japanese, Korean, and Russian all at once?"
Then they would bait them with promises: "Look at Chu Zhi. Foreign-language stars are trending now. Learn one more language, and you can even write your own songs later."
With no choice, trainees pressed on in tears.
So while fans of Little Fruits only thought about scrambling for tickets, the industry was busy analyzing Chu Zhi's intentions.
Entertainment insiders thrived on path dependence and exaggeration. But looking back at Chu Zhi's comeback journey, aside from his clashes with Fortune 500 companies, he had never made a losing move.
And the language push, though it sounded ridiculous, had indeed produced results, attracting a segment of fans.
That very night, Modern Sky issued another post. The comment section asking "When do tickets go on sale?" had surpassed 100,000, forcing them to respond quickly.
[Thank you for loving the Strawberry Music Festival. Because of music, we share the same sky, we cheer for the same songs…]
After a long string of flowery nonsense, they finally revealed the ticket sales date: September 20, twenty days in advance.
They also emphasized that each ID card could only purchase one ticket, a measure arranged by Manager Fei to combat scalpers.
Fans from Japan and South Korea, who followed Chu Zhi's every move through Weibo International, immediately picked up the news.
For example, Kim Mina, a graduate of Korea University's College of Liberal Arts majoring in Chinese Language and Literature. Her Chinese proficiency was excellent. She had become a fan after watching Chu Zhi play Professor Baek. Soon, she began reposting both Chu Zhi's Weibo updates and Orange Home news to her Twitter, gathering more than 300,000 followers.
"Professor Baek is going to a music festival?" Kim Mina was thrilled. She double-checked the information.
"The guest list really has Professor Baek.
How do I buy tickets?"
Tracing the sources, she reached Modern Sky's official account. But soon, she realized a problem: she did not have a Chinese ID card.
She contacted customer service, asking how foreigners could purchase tickets.
The music festival's staff were caught off guard. In previous years, ticketing had not required ID verification, which was exactly why scalpers flourished.
South Korea had resident registration cards, but the ticketing system could not authenticate foreign IDs. If they only checked IP addresses without ID, scalpers could easily bypass it with VPNs.
"Madam, we apologize for the inconvenience. Ticketing is handled by Maidian and Ferris Wheel agencies, so we do not have authority to change the system. But considering your situation, we suggest asking a friend in China to purchase a ticket for you. At the venue, you only need to present identification."
This was the standard routine: shift responsibility first, then offer a workaround.
But what if she had no friends in China? Kim Mina was unsatisfied and argued with them in fluent Chinese.
At that moment, she felt she was not fighting alone. Thousands of other Professor Baek fans were standing beside her.
But reality did not bend to South Korean fans' protests. The staff apologized repeatedly, promising to "fix it next time," but their courteous tone left her with no outlet for her anger.
"Next time? Can you guarantee the professor will even be invited next time? What is the point of flying to a music festival without him?" she muttered.
Resigned, Kim Mina racked her brain for possible contacts. After a few minutes, she remembered a Chinese classmate from her university days.
She dialed his number. After a few pleasantries, she went straight to the point.
But his answer was unexpected: "Well, actually I'm only Chinese by descent. I have South Korean nationality, so…"
Before he could finish, Kim Mina blurted out, "Why?"
"Uh…" He was stunned.
"Sorry." She quickly realized her question was inappropriate. But that meant she still needed another solution.
"I can ask a friend to help you purchase one," he offered. He still remembered Kim Mina as a stunning beauty, and the favor was easy enough.
Relieved, Kim Mina thanked him. She did not notice his attempt to get closer, her mind entirely consumed by the thought of seeing Professor Baek.
"The tickets are a bit expensive, but being able to see Professor Baek makes it worth it. I've already found a Chinese friend to help me buy one."
Half an hour later, Kim Mina posted two updates on Twitter: one sharing Chu Zhi's performance time, and one announcing she had secured help buying a ticket.
Her followers, mostly die-hard South Korean fans, exploded with excitement.
"Where do I even find Chinese friends to help me? Why can't we buy tickets directly?"
"I really want to go, but I have no time."
"Are there any Chinese exchange students willing to buy on my behalf? I'll pay extra!"
The frenzy only grew louder.