"I have exceptionally high standards," Guo Xun praised himself. "Anything related to cats is top-tier."
The producer was speechless. It was clearly Guo Xun who had greenlit the purchase—what did it have to do with cats? But he didn't want to argue with the director over such a trivial matter.
"Chu Zhi is very different from other popular celebrities," Guo Xun remarked. "He seems to have an innate arrogance. The lyrics are simple, but they're catchy—why wouldn't he sing them?"
"It's normal for young people. Besides, he has every right to be proud. He has plenty of great songs—at least You're Not Truly Happy is outstanding. My daughter cried her eyes out watching the live stream," the producer said. "When she called me, I thought she'd gotten dumped again. Turns out, she was just moved to tears by the song."
"Fair point," Guo Xun nodded. "If I were that handsome, I'd be arrogant too. Deal with it."
"?" The producer felt like they were on completely different wavelengths.
Was Chu Zhi actually arrogant? Of course not. What was there to be proud of when it came to blind box draws? He knew full well it was all thanks to the system. The main thing was that he couldn't afford to let his guard down—he couldn't give others an opening. The acting beast would never admit defeat.
Guo Xun pulled out his phone, his lock screen showing his pet cat. Scrolling through short videos, he saw that the movie's promotional song Learn to Meow was trending like crazy. The Cat Lovers production team's Douyin account had gained a million followers from just one video. Normally, such accounts were abandoned after promotions, with no one bothering to maintain them.
But now… it felt like a waste to just throw away an account with a million followers.
Question: Do you get copyright fees if your song is used in Douyin or Kuaishou videos?
Answer: Keep dreaming.
The marketing team quickly released another video: This is the Real Chu Zhi: Goodnight Meow and Learn to Meow.
The two-minute clip was simple: First, Chu Zhi was about to throw a draft into the trash, but the producer stopped him and took the discarded lyrics. The whole thing was edited for maximum effect.
Then, the female lead Ning Mixue chimed in: "The song we ended up using for the movie's promotional track, Learn to Meow, was actually Teacher Chu's discarded draft. The producer thought it was too good to throw away, so… long story short, this is the version everyone's hearing now. We hope fans will love it and support the movie!"
"Goodnight Meow was also improvised by Teacher Chu—probably because he felt the movie needed something warmer," Ning Mixue added.
Many viral song producers were cursing inwardly. "What the hell? Instead of releasing a proper album, you're here stealing our business?"
Creating a viral hit usually relied more on luck than quality. But for Chu Zhi to casually toss out a "discarded draft" that became a sensation? That was just unfair.
The first influencer to jump on the Let's Learn to Meow trend, One Punch Two Ying-Yings (affectionately called "Punch Sis" by fans), quickly contacted a "song factory" to churn out a few knockoffs—Moo Moo, Bark Bark, whatever, they were cheap to produce. Unfortunately, none took off.
Punch Sis, who had some tenuous connection to Chu Zhi through their agency, approached her manager.
"Auntie Xiao, do you know Chu Zhi?" Punch Sis asked.
"What, are you a fan too?" Manager Xiao countered.
Before Punch Sis could answer, Xiao continued, "You know, the company originally wanted me to be Chu Zhi's main manager. But I already have too many artists—I just couldn't handle it."
"Ah, I've sacrificed so much for you kids," Xiao sighed, her tone dripping with maternal exasperation.
She conveniently left out the fact that Taiyang Chuanhe had shortlisted four candidates, and in the end, Niu Jiangxue got the job. But there was no harm in flexing a little in front of her artists.
"You want an autograph? No problem, I'm on good terms with Teacher Chu," Xiao said.
"No, I—" Punch Sis wasn't a fan; she just wanted to make money.
Before she could finish, Xiao interrupted, "Or do you want a private photo op?"
Xiao's "good terms" with Chu Zhi extended only to having his WeChat. Getting an autograph from a fellow agency artist was one thing, but anything more was pushing it.
A seasoned manager like her had multiple artists under her belt. Taiyang Chuanhe had also ventured into live streaming, which was how Punch Sis and Chu Zhi were loosely connected—same company.
"I was wondering if you know where Chu Zhi's office is. I kinda wanna dig through his trash," Punch Sis blurted out before Xiao could derail the conversation again.
"Learn to Meow is super viral right now, and it was literally his trash draft. If we go through his garbage, we might find more discarded songs with hit potential. Waste not, want not, right?"
"If I had sung Learn to Meow, I'd have over two million followers by now," Punch Sis added.
Digging through trash was a bit much, but buying discarded drafts wasn't a bad idea. Xiao knew Punch Sis had money—never underestimate how much influencers could earn. Dropping a couple million on a song was pocket change for her.
With that in mind, Xiao called Niu Jiangxue.
While Learn to Meow was busy brainwashing the masses, time marched steadily forward to May 11th.
Min Nam-jik wasn't just all bark and no bite—he was a man of action. One of his proudest achievements was in 2011, during the World Championships in Athletics in Daegu, South Korea, where he acted as a middleman for a chaebol to bribe the judging panel, costing the U.S. a silver medal in the 200-meter dash.
The Dragon Boat Festival, calligraphy, taiji, rock music, New York—sooner or later, they'd all belong to the great Republic of Korea. Min Nam-jik reached out to the Federation of Artistic and Cultural Organizations, magnifying Chu Zhi's "disrespect" toward his elders.
The federation's old-timers were equally indignant. They had contributed so much to the nation—young people ought to be groveling at their feet.
"Young people won't like a rude, disrespectful brat," Min Nam-jik declared, hammering home his point.
"Producer, here are the documents you requested," Secretary Choi said deferentially as he handed over the files.
"Hmm—" Min Nam-jik's gaze landed on the obvious wrinkles in Choi's shirt, like ink stains on white paper, glaringly out of place.
SLAP!
Min Nam-jik hurled the files directly into Choi's face. Before the secretary could react, the producer's thunderous rage erupted.
"You useless bastard, why can't you even keep your shirt neat? You're a disgrace to MBC! Go die!" Min Nam-jik roared, following up with another sharp slap.
Choi bowed in apology, hastily straightening his shirt with trembling hands.
"Get out! Call Kim Jae-hee in here. You good-for-nothing mutts!" Min Nam-jik kicked Choi out.
Secretary Choi scurried away like a pardoned criminal. Judging by the situation, Kim Jae-hee was about to face the same treatment—just for having once been Chu Zhi's translator, she was now a target of Min Nam-jik's wrath, even though her assignment had been arranged by the network.
South Korea's seniority-based bullying was a severe societal issue, with schools, the entertainment industry, and the military being the worst offenders. Slapping, stripping, and humiliating juniors were standard practices. Secretary Choi was clearly no stranger to Min Nam-jik's outbursts—he took it in stride, even feeling relieved as he left the office. At least he wasn't forced to strip naked and walk out.
This kind of thing was all too real in the entertainment industry. In some groups, just because one member debuted a year earlier, the juniors weren't allowed in the restroom and had to squat outside, forbidden from disturbing their seniors' rest.
During meals, malicious bullying could leave juniors with nothing but scraps. And this treatment had nothing to do with popularity—even if you were in a top group, you could still face it.
With the entire society steeped in this culture, young people had no way to fight back. That was why Chu Zhi's defiance of an elder was seen as so outrageous.
May 12th was a Sunday. King of Masked Singer aired on MBC TV at 16:50—Seoul time, of course.