After Chu Zhi attended the Saint Petersburg International Cultural Forum twice, People's Daily referred to him as an artist. Yet the latest reports were leaning more toward presenting him as a music king.
Passersby reading the articles found it somewhat exaggerated. Even counting from the reality show Future's Star, Chu Zhi had only debuted for around five years. Could someone become a milestone in Chinese pop music in just five years? Maybe it was a little overpraised.
"Thinking carefully, it's not an exaggeration. Ode to the Oranges Tree and the new album Nine Songs mark the peak of Chinese-style music, including both new Chinese style and classical influences."
"The new album is truly amazing. I love Hongyan and Moonlight."
"You could even call him officially recognized as a king of music. I have reason to suspect Chu Zhi might be the last Asian music king of the twenty-first century."
"Although the article didn't mention his reputation in the entertainment world, it's clearly paying respect to Jiu-yé. But why does the government like him so much? Is it really just because he's the descendant of two martyrs?"
This sparked discussion among netizens. Some argued it was largely due to background, while others said it was recognition throughout Asia—a sort of export card. No one could convince the other side.
The debate ended when this comment appeared:
"Elements like Blue and White Porcelain, Compendium of Materia Medica, and The Small Heavy Mountains in Last Night's Book fill this album with Chinese cultural elements. No wonder the official channels praise it. Let me show you the recent search rankings overseas."
A user named Invisible Code compiled content from Yahoo Forums, Naver's Knowledge iN, and ответы. These three sites were question-and-answer platforms in Russia, South Korea, and Japan, similar to Zhihu.
On Knowledge iN, sorted by number of answers, the top three questions were:
[If you don't answer, tonight a ghost may appear in your room!! What do you think of Chu Zhi? By the way, I really like Chu-san.] Category: Male Idol
[If you don't answer, don't read this. Do you prefer Blue and White Porcelain or Fireworks Easily Cool? Are there better translations of the lyrics?] Category: Korean Pop & Asia
[500 replies! My Chinese teacher said Ragdoll writes lyrics incredibly well. I heard A Chinese Ghost Story comes from an old Chinese book. I want to know which one.] Category: Chinese Language
For some reason, Japan's Knowledge iN reminded people of the millennial QQ trend "Forward and receive 10 Q-coins."
Previously, most questions on Knowledge iN were trivial: "Which coffee do you like?" "Udon or soba?" or "Am I stupid for adding salt to grilled meat?"
The top three questions on Korea's Knowledge iN were:
[Where can I buy the professor's Chinese album domestically?]
[I'm curious, is the professor really a professor in real life? His new album is hard for me to understand, but it feels very cultured.]
[Why is it Fireworks Easily Cool? Is Blue and White Porcelain Chinese or ours?]
Before the album release, most questions were about electronics: "iPhone WiFi connection failed," "Can you recommend a good film camera or an affordable digital camera?"
In Russia, although the entertainment industry was weak, their internet sector was more mature. Before the album, questions on ответы were mostly about games: "Can I equip runes this way?" "Is this a female or male character?" "How to unlock the tech achievements in War Empire?"
After the album, questions shifted:
[Our country's culture is as brilliant as China's. Can we cultivate artists like Chu Zhi?]
[Who can translate Chu Zhi's new songs into Russian?]
[What instruments were used in Chu Zhi's new album?]
With pictures, translations, and URLs, Invisible Code's post concluded:
"One Chinese album can make overseas fans want to understand Chinese culture. Honestly, who else can export culture this effectively? And now, cultural export is a government policy. If the officials don't support Chu Zhi, who would they support?"
Government efforts in cultural export exist too, like Confucius Institutes and cultural exhibitions. But such high-level exchanges are barely perceptible to the public, worldwide. Few people realize that Korean choirs perform in China nearly every two years.
In contrast, Chu Zhi's presence in Russia, Japan, South Korea, Thailand, and Vietnam spreads positive Chinese cultural influence, arguably more effectively than official cultural exchanges.
Netizens agreed with Invisible Code, and Little Fruits added:
"Not only a flagbearer of cultural export, but also morally upright."
"Not just upright, extremely upright. Chu Zhi, the little tax-paying expert, is defending national dignity on the entertainment frontlines."
"Honestly, ever since I became a fan of Jiu-yé, the red scarf on my chest seems brighter."
The discussion soon became a thread of praise.
The general public online didn't realize that officials had also discussed Chu Zhi at length. Leaders from the Cultural and Tourism Bureau and the Central Propaganda Department found Chu Zhi's phenomenon unusual.
Even if they didn't follow the entertainment world closely, after years of celebrity scandals, they knew how extreme fan worship could be. Saying nonsense could get hundreds of thousands of replies; even passing gas would attract compliments.
Living constantly under the spotlight, it was easy for stars to lose themselves, sometimes slightly arrogant, sometimes unable to control their darker impulses.
But Chu Zhi had none of this. His values were so firm that he could enter politics. Over three years, he donated anonymously over 150 million yuan. Officials concluded that surviving life-threatening experiences, plus inheriting the bloodline of martyrs, made him more composed.
Continuing with Invisible Code's topic, Knowledge iN in Japan had a slight shift in questions.
Last night's Narita Airport reception sparked societal debate: "Was it worth using so many people, time, and money just for one star?" Non-fans considered it a waste.
Those holding this opinion were current social elites, asking why not use the money to buy property. Meanwhile, the person causing the sensation was accepting an award.
It was 2 p.m. at the Tokyo City Hall press room.
Many people were present: reporters from Asahi Shimbun, Yomiuri Shimbun, and Mainichi Shimbun.
The event was formal. Seriousness showed not only in the press corps but also in the presenters: the Governor of Tokyo and the Minister of Education.
Chu Zhi's looks and age made him stand out among the crowd.
The award panel consisted of eight people:
Lai Changsong, founder and chair of the Boao Asian Forum, 61, former member and secretary general of the China-Japan Friendship Committee.
Thong Phala, Thai ambassador to Japan, 55, deeply involved in multiple Japan-Thailand trade and cultural exchanges.
Antoinette, a French translator who translated multiple works of The Tale of Genji into French and won the Northern Lights Distinguished Literary Translation Award.
Mark, a German Pulitzer-winning novelist who released a travel novel set in Hokkaido, promoting Sapporo and surrounding areas in Europe.
The awards were highly prestigious.
Chu Zhi sat in the front row. The ceremony was solemn: Governor Nagano Shintaro read each recipient's achievements, and Minister Kishi Katsuzumi presented the awards.
Given that it was a once-every-ten-year award, the ceremony's formality made sense.
"Famous Chinese artist Chu Zhi, with works such as I Once Wanted to End It All, All of Me, and Infinity, has offered pure support to confused urban youth. On countless dark nights, pushing souls forward, he has been praised by the media as a 'Circuit Breaker Preventing Human Suicide.' Welcome Chu-san."
Nagano Shintaro read a long list of Chu Zhi's achievements. It was his second meeting with Chu Zhi.
Chu Zhi rose to the stage. Cameras clicked as Kishi Katsuzumi handed over the certificate. Although it was not a trophy, it was elegantly framed on Yomamori paper, used for official talismans and reserved for the imperial household.
Chu Zhi remarked that in paper-making, China was the ancestor of the world.
Besides the certificate, two small boxes were included.
The red wooden box contained a Tokyo government housing voucher, which could deduct 90 percent of the housing cost within Tokyo.
The blue plastic box contained a 10 million yen voucher from the Ministry of Education, roughly 500,000 yuan, limited to Japanese domestic brands.
These were practical gifts. With Tokyo's average price at 42,000 yuan per square meter, a 100-square-meter apartment would cost roughly 4 million yuan. Deduct 90 percent, saving over 3 million yuan. Adding the voucher meant around 4 million yuan per person—a substantial investment by Tokyo officials, which was in line with their penchant for unusual expenditures, like mascots or spending 16 billion yen on renovations in Kyoto while facing bankruptcy.
After the awards, both Governor Nagano and Minister Kishi gave speeches: "The Ministry of Education will continue to focus on global cultural exchange." This served to demonstrate their commitment and sincerity to the public.
Subsequently, reporters interviewed Chu Zhi freely.
"Your sixth Chinese album was released in November. What are your future plans? Any Japanese EP in the works?"
Chu Zhi considered the question carefully: "An EP needs five to seven songs. Currently, I don't have enough songs in hand."
The implication was clear: once enough Japanese songs were created, an EP could be released.
The City Hall had also prepared a banquet, likely kaiseki cuisine. Chu Zhi didn't find it filling; taste aside, the portions were unsatisfactory.
"Consultant Chu, long time no see," said Lai Changsong, one of the other awardees, greeting him proactively.
Chu Zhi searched his memory: Lai Changsong, Changsong, pine tree, squirrel… It took him two years to recall where they had met before.
"Last time we met at the International Youth Conference, it must have been a year and a half ago," Chu Zhi said.
"That long? I thought it was only a few months," Lai Changsong replied, momentarily dazed.
Time often needs a reference point for people to realize how quickly it passes.
Lai Changsong added, "Consultant Chu still has an excellent memory."
He addressed Chu Zhi as a consultant, acknowledging the official position Chu Zhi now held. The two chatted casually.
There was still some time before dinner, so they went to shoot advertisements. It wasn't a coincidence. After confirming yesterday's Tokyo trip, Niu Niu contacted the endorsers to schedule the shoot.
Chu Zhi had multiple endorsements for Japanese brands, mostly limited to Japan, though one or two were pan-Asian.
During the ad shoot, Lao Qian and Wang Yuan waited nearby, discussing the airport reception incident that had gone viral on Japanese social media.
At night, Chu Zhi attended the banquet. Besides the awardees from earlier, many entrepreneurs were present. The banquet was ostensibly to celebrate the awardees, but it felt more like a temporary assembly of fame and fortune.
Where people gathered, loyalty didn't necessarily exist, but scheming certainly did. Chu Zhi disliked this part.
As the kaiseki cuisine was nearly finished, someone approached.
"Hello, Chu-san. I'm Obata Yasushi, president of Creative Minds Production." Obata Yasushi greeted him.
Creative Minds Production organized Summer Sonic, one of Japan's three major music festivals. Obata Yasushi had discovered Chu Zhi after a devoted fan tipped him off following Strawberry Music Festival.
"President Obata." Chu Zhi greeted in return.
Obata Yasushi spoke in a roundabout manner, as if small talk could ease the path for the upcoming conversation.
"Summer Sonic is one of the largest music festivals in Asia, attracting fans from all over the world," Obata Yasushi said. "I wonder if we might have the honor of inviting Chu-san next year."
"We have many fans who love your music in our country," Obata Yasushi added.
In terms of domestic recognition, Summer Sonic had the highest profile, often featuring Chinese singers. Familiar names like Li Fei and Mo Qingqing had performed there.
Playing the Emperor Beast was very practical. If he had not been so diligent with the airport reception, he might have refused. Now he hesitated.
He didn't immediately decline. Obata Yasushi felt pleased and quickly continued.
"A Slight Expectation of the World has been on the shelves for over two years and still sells one to two thousand copies monthly. A survey by QU Entertainment also found that Chu-san consistently ranks second in the artists people most want to see live."
Second place? The natural question would be, who was first? Chu Zhi wasn't competitive, so he didn't ask.
"I need to confirm with my manager. May I reply to you within a week, Mr. Obata?" Chu Zhi said.
Obata Yasushi left his contact. At this point, there was no need to push further.
The first round of food ended, and in Japan, there was a sense that the night didn't count unless there was drinking. Chu Zhi refused.
He didn't like heavy dishes, and when drinking, he usually drank alone. Getting drunk would trigger the alcohol spirit and possibly cause trouble.
Chu Zhi stayed in Tokyo for two days, finished the advertisement shoot, and then returned home. He had also informed Niu Jiangxue about the music festival invitation.
Brave Niu Niu now had to think carefully…
Chu Zhi's schedule required many filtered choices.
For example, programs in Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan—pick one to attend.
Chu Ci · Nine Songs' popularity was comprehensive, spanning the two sides of the Taiwan Strait and Hong Kong. Songs like A Chinese Ghost Story and One Laugh Across the Seas topped the Hong Kong and Taiwan charts.
In the parallel world, trends closely mirrored Earth. Since the 1980s, the Hong Kong and Taiwan markets had risen and fallen repeatedly.
With many Hong Kong and Taiwan singers performing in northern China, the local market struggled. As the entertainment industry's biggest winner, Chu Zhi dominated.
"Many old programs in Hong Kong are gone," Chu Zhi said.
"Of course, the films in Hong Kong still survive thanks to the older generation, but the music scene is mostly weak. The industry is learning the mainland's fan-driven model, which only worsens the situation for an already limited talent pool," Niu Jiangxue said.
Chu Zhi thought quietly: what's good about learning the fan-driven model? The answer was obvious: it makes money fast.
"Programs are no different. Let Lao Qian help pick one," Chu Zhi said.
There were many events to attend, plus a small surprise.
Chu Zhi received an email from Langzi Publishing. His poetry collection Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night had won the Costa Book Award (Most Delightful Poetry).
Although sponsored by Whitbread, a travel-focused company, the award was still prestigious, particularly in the English literary system.
Initially, the Costa organizers wanted to contact Chu Zhi directly but couldn't find his information. They settled for contacting the publisher.
"This is the first substantial Western award my poetry has won," Chu Zhi thought. He wouldn't attend in person, letting the publisher collect the award.
Many European and American authors don't attend their award ceremonies, so this was normal.
Costa ranks as Tier 2 globally. The six major Western literary awards are: Nobel, Jerusalem, Kafka, Pulitzer, Booker, and Goncourt.
Besides the Nobel at Tier 0, the others are Tier 1. Chu Zhi had studied them carefully. Only the post-Booker and Goncourt have poetry categories.
"I'm proficient in French. I'll translate the poetry collection into French, and next year, publish a Yeats anthology."
One poetry collection per year was already ambitious, so there was no rush. Translating it himself would require time.
Not aiming for the Nobel, Chu Zhi felt winning two Tier 1 awards would suffice. Then he could reveal his other works and enjoy the world's astonishment.
Playing the Emperor Beast was shallow for him. If learning didn't have a purpose beyond showing off, it was meaningless.
Soon, according to the current pace, two or three more poetry collections would complete the plan.
"This one is later. Translation takes time, and the year-end is busy," Chu Zhi planned clearly.
And busy he was. The next half month was packed. He mentally ticked off tasks: [Early Departure from Events*25], earning 6 personality coins, with a balance of 16 and 10 frozen.
"The aftereffects of four consecutive draws… broke." Chu Zhi shook his head. He first grabbed something to eat; he was hungry.