Humble, way too humble.
That's what Producer Wu, Director Sun, and the others thought the second they heard it.
"If it weren't for the country, we'd still be stuck on Lake Titicaca," Producer Wu said.
"Do you see any other boats on the water," Secretary Li asked suddenly.
Cai Jia, Guo Hao, Zhang Xiaoqian, the cameraman Xiao Long, and the rest looked out. The lake was quiet, like a deserted street at night, one lonely boat cutting across it.
Which meant only China's rented ship was running. Before anyone spoke, Secretary Li kept going.
"We're landing at Ancoraymes. It's less than a hundred and fifty kilometers from La Paz, the center of the clashes, so pretty much all traffic's paralyzed."
Everyone kept saying La Paz and Sucre were far, that the trouble wouldn't reach them. Truth was, they'd been comforting themselves. Sucre's far, sure, but La Paz is way too close.
"This evacuation route exists because Consultant Chu called in help. Only then did we get permission to pass," Secretary Li said. "We tried everything we could, but with the rebels holding a huge advantage, the Bolivian government couldn't do much for us."
"Consultant Chu is Mr. Chu Zhi… right," Producer Wu asked.
Secretary Li nodded. "Consultant Chu's the chief consultant for the Ministry of Culture and Tourism, and a State Council [Outstanding Young and Middle-aged Expert] who receives a special stipend."
Chief consultant had already leaked online before, so that part didn't shock them. The State Council stipend expert title, though…
What the hell. A singer can get that?
Judging by the faces of Director Sun, Producer Wu, Guo Hao, Cai Jia, Zhang Xiaoqian, and the rest, there were whole herds of galloping horses trampling their thoughts.
For the record, Chu Zhi got the stipend first, then the honorary post. There are about 180,000 people nationwide who qualify, so it's not impossible. He fits the criteria for "significant contributions to cultural reform and the flourishing of national culture."
For regular folks, that title hits harder than chief consultant. It's the kind of thing that makes you shut up and listen.
"Consultant Chu's the one who really serves the people," Secretary Li finished, with a sigh.
Diplomatic ranks go from attaché to third secretary, second secretary, first secretary, counselor, minister, ambassador. A first secretary like Secretary Li is senior at a mission. He didn't need to lie.
Someone gulped. The tiny sound pretty much summed up the silence.
Producer Wu had assumed Chu Zhi just knew the news early. He hadn't expected the whole operation to be driven by him. He realized he'd been thinking too small.
"No wonder, no wonder," Director Sun muttered. It explained why the embassy had told him one thing earlier, then reality turned on a dime.
"How'd he even do that," Guo Hao asked, still stunned.
"A powerful businessman in Bolivia lent a hand. His kids are fans of Consultant Chu," Secretary Li said. He wanted the rescued to know who deserved the credit, without oversharing. It also protected Chu Zhi. He judged that line just right.
How big do you have to be to arrange something like this, Guo Hao wondered. Same job title, both called star, but look at the gap. This man had pull even in a small Latin American country.
Zhang Xiaoqian clicked her tongue. The embassy couldn't break the deadlock, but a celebrity could. It sounded absurd, yet here they were.
"I've always heard Mr. Chu's influence abroad is insane, and now I've felt it for myself," Producer Wu said.
Everyone had, even Secretary Li.
To be fair, there's another Chu in a parallel world, Chu Shun, whose influence was a different beast. Chu Zhi leans on fans, while Chu Shun gets deference even from non-fans. Director trumps idol. That's just how it is.
"It's gotta be Captain," Cai Jia thought, genuinely moved. She was sure he'd seen her Moments post, then pulled strings.
Most of them had skipped breakfast, too scared to eat. Now that things had stabilized, the boat offered food. It wasn't fancy, but it filled bellies.
After eating, they returned to their seats. The boat was half full, which made the cabin feel even emptier.
"I'm sorry."
The apology came from behind, loud enough for everyone on that deck to hear.
They turned. The one apologizing was the cameraman, Xiao Long.
"Sorry for what," someone asked.
"I kept running my mouth with doom and gloom and made everyone feel worse when we already felt terrible. I'm sorry," Xiao Long said, sincere to the bone.
"We were all scared. I was scared to death," Zhang Xiaoqian said, trying to comfort him.
"The result's good. Don't stress it," Guo Hao added.
They did the decent thing and soothed him a little. Xiao Long then explained why he'd been so rattled. Three years ago he'd gone to Afghanistan as a war reporter and saw things with his own eyes. Maybe he's got PTSD. Civil unrest hits him hard.
It's understandable, but Cai Jia still didn't join the comfort chorus. Adults all carry stories, she thought, but dragging others down isn't right. That's one of her bedrock rules.
Dozens of minutes later, they reached the shore. Five big coaches waited, each holding fifty people, deep brown paint stamped with a red line of English, "Santander Central."
Secretary Li and the crew kept order, boarding women and kids first.
The convoy rolled out smooth. On the road to Calama, Chile, everyone stared at how scary unrest gets up close. A fake "toll station" cropped up ahead, barricades and "soldiers."
The barriers were wooden railings wrapped with steel thorns, chained at the base.
The soldiers carried live weapons. The way they watched, you felt like one wrong move and they'd fire.
Right in your face.
Terrifying.
"Exits from Sucre and La Paz are cut," Secretary Li said.
The rebels had cut roads out of those two cities, but Bolivia's whole traffic net radiates from them. That basically paralyzed half the country.
The soldiers saw the marks on the buses and didn't even go through the motions. They waved them through.
Everyone let out a long breath. Nobody wanted to stand near guns. Zhang Xiaoqian clutched her chest and tried to calm down.
"Consultant Chu's connection's even heavier than I expected," Secretary Li murmured. He'd braced for a search. He didn't expect a full pass.
As for who exactly Chu Zhi had leaned on, only a few of the embassy heads knew. A first secretary like Secretary Li just knew it was an extremely powerful businessman.
You could guess the rest. It was the help of a vice president at Santander.
Santander's a Spanish company. Sounds unrelated to Bolivia, right?
Elementary history says Spain colonized most of Latin America at its peak. The influence never left. They can still arm-wrestle the big neighbor up north.
Facts time. Outside of Brazil, where Portuguese rules, Argentina, Chile, Bolivia, they all use Spanish officially. Santander Group's a monster. Its bank ranks ninth in the world. People even call it the Central Bank of South America.
The rebels want to hold power. Once they do, they still need money, which means pleasing the big investors. You don't pick a fight with your banker.
Everything went smoothly. They crossed into Chile without a single check. That's how far Santander's reach goes.
Most of the world's widespread languages spread on the back of conquest, Spanish, Portuguese, English among them. That's just the ugly truth.
Four hours later, everyone reunited with Chu Zhi at Mataveri International Airport. Easter Island's Chile's signature tourist spot. Of course it's got an airport.
"When something goes wrong, call Captain. That line's gold."
"Thanks for stepping in, Teacher Chu."
"If it weren't for Mr. Chu, we'd still be stuck on that island."
One by one, Cai Jia, Guo Hao, Producer Wu, and the others said thanks. Along the way, most of the two hundred plus travelers learned that the rescue had been pulled off by the star, Chu Zhi.
Regular tourists didn't know entertainers well, so they held back. Still, phrases like "don't judge a book by its cover" and "reliable young man" landed on him in whispers.
"It's the embassy that worked hard. I just nudged a door," Chu Zhi said. The state covered the evacuation costs. He'd only cleared the route.
Cai Jia acted as a bridge, introducing Chu Zhi to the crew. They traded polite words.
During a break, Secretary Li briefed the other travelers about the next steps.
Chu Zhi stepped aside to call Pablo and Monica to thank them.
"It's an honor to help Mr. Jiu," Monica said.
Her younger brother Pablo chimed in, "Mr. Jiu, I got your album. Thank you, Mr. Jiu."
He'd meant to call them separately, but the siblings were together.
They were the kids of a Spanish tycoon, and like Princess Sofia of Spain, they were die-hard Little Fruits. Back when he had dinner with the princess, she'd mentioned the Pomegranate Blossom Club.
That club's a Spanish-language circle for second-generation elites. Members include a child of the Inditex heir, the eldest daughter of a major ACS shareholder, the youngest son of MercadoLibre's co-founder, and so on.
When most of the wealth sits in a few hands, their kids form clubs. Thanks to certain "shifts," that reading circle splintered over time, and a chunk of them became Little Fruits.
Chu Zhi's popularity there isn't just a couple of Spanish tracks. This world's got loads of great Spanish songs.
The core reason's simple, he's pretty enough to break logic.
To put it bluntly, fate doesn't let talent outrun looks. His looks don't lose to his talent.
He's no fool either. Once Princess Sofia mentioned the club and said her friends Pablo and Monica were Little Fruits too, he said yes on the spot and mailed them two collector's edition signed albums.
By four thirty in the afternoon, stomachs were growling. Time to board.
Chile was on the edge too, and Netflix had almost wrapped the Easter Island ad, so he'd head home with everyone.
They flew LATAM. LATAM's a magical airline, it either hits other planes or plows into fire trucks.
As the plane lifted, Chu Zhi watched the continent shrink.
"I don't know if South America's close to heaven, but it's way too close to hell," he sighed.
There's no direct from Shanghai to Chile, usually you transfer, but this time the airline…
They touched down in China a little after ten at night the next day. Twenty-eight and a half hours in the air. The air felt safer the second his shoes hit the ground.
Take Cai Jia. She felt like she'd pulled three all-nighters in a row, joints all jelly, but her mood was good.
She rushed to say, let me treat you to dinner, then yawned mid-sentence.
There are two things you shouldn't stare at, the sun and a person's heart. Make that three, yawns. One yawn set off a chain reaction. Anyone who glanced at her opened their mouth wide.
"Captain, I'll treat you next time. I'm too sleepy," Cai Jia said.
"Dinner can wait. Handle the important thing first," Chu Zhi said. "Sleep. Rest well. That's the real business."
"Ok, Captain's words of wisdom," she laughed.
The crew said their goodbyes, one after another.
"If you come to Shandong, call me. I'll cover everything."
"If Jiu-yé ever opens an agency, I'd jump ship. A boss like Jiu-yé feels safe."
"Thanks again, Jiu-yé."
…
Usually an evacuation dominates headlines for days, but this time, there was chatter and not much push behind it.
Inside the diplomatic system, people sighed. If any other star had helped the country like this, the whole internet would be flooded with gushing essays. Only Chu Zhi didn't care to hype it, so his reputation with leadership ticked up.
He didn't publicize it because he really didn't think it was a big deal. He'd seen Cai Jia's Moments, wanted to help a friend, and once he decided to help, he did it right.
He stepped out of the terminal into the maze of the parking structure.
"Sorry to bother you this late, Sister Niu. Do you have a minute? I want to ask about something."
"I just grabbed a bite, I've got time. You mean the Little Fruits' joint petition, right," Niu Jiangxue asked.
"Yeah, the petition. What's our plan," he asked.
"You've been on a plane for over twenty hours. Do you want to rest first," she said.
He hadn't even warmed the nanny van's seat when he called Niu Jiangxue.
"I'm fine," he said. First class let him stretch out, and he'd taken the Dead Pig Miracle and slept like a rock. He was probably the only one who slept well on that flight.
In Niu Jiangxue's ears, that sounded like nonsense. Twenty hours is twenty hours. It's tiring.
He's too driven, she thought, then walked him through the team's plan.
He agreed, added a few tweaks, then ordered takeout before the van reached home. LATAM's economy meals are passable. First class meals manage to taste bad despite premium ingredients. Go figure.
At exactly eleven that night —
Aiguo Company post: "We've taken fans' wishes seriously. Starting with the next album, we'll open an online channel to sell a China edition, and the streaming release won't be delayed. We'll drop audio on all platforms at the same time. #FreeListeningIsTheSweetest (doge)"
Chu Zhi post: "Quick status update, I cobbled together a jumble of a Chinese album, looking at an early-next-year release. Keep expectations chill, haha. #LowerYourHype"
#FreeListeningIsTheSweetest
#LowerYourHype
Two hot searches, one from the company account, one from Chu Zhi himself.