Both trips to Seoul had kept him busy until the early hours of the morning, leaving him sleep-deprived. Earning less than 2 billion KRW (around $1.5 million) in the process, Chu Zhi felt it was a raw deal.
Unexpectedly, he also gained three Personality Coins. Due to tight flight schedules, he had left immediately after both King of Masked Singers performances, counting as "early departures."
Adding in the singer who dropped out of the competition, that made three instances of "early departure"—just enough to complete the [Early Departure x3] achievement. He had assumed that if three early departures earned three coins, then five would naturally earn five. But the next tier, [Early Departure x5], only rewarded four coins.
He complained to the system about the unfair pricing, but his appeal was denied. No matter—it was an unexpected windfall anyway.
Since signing with Taiyang Chuanhe Entertainment, months had passed. Every member of his team had taken two days off in rotation—except for Chu Zhi himself, who had been working nonstop. Even though he was still in his career ascent, he couldn't keep going without a break. After returning from Seoul, the team unanimously decided to give him a day off.
But some people just can't sit still, even on vacation.
With his boundless energy, Chu Zhi decided to satisfy his curiosity by testing two things at home: the full power of [Voice of Despair 100%] and the infamous [Nine-Tenths Drunk, I'm Not Human].
Being familiar with his own abilities, Chu Zhi preferred to explore unknown variables thoroughly to gain full control. He started by testing [Voice of Despair] in his home studio, singing Your Answer—a decent-quality song from the [Random Song Pack].
At 90%, [Voice of Despair] already affected his emotions; at 100%, the impact was even stronger. So he prepared some chocolate and gummies—not because he had a sweet tooth, but because sugar was said to help alleviate low moods.
He saw no issue with this emotional influence. "First, move yourself—then move others. Is there a problem with that? No."
By the chorus, Chu Zhi felt like he was walking deeper into a pitch-black cave:
"The light of dawn will pierce the darkness, shattering all fears. I'll find the answer—even if I have to walk against the light…"
The song lasted only a few minutes. By the end, tear streaks marked his cheeks, and his eyes felt dry. He exhaled deeply and popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth.
After recording, he put on headphones to listen. The voice with [Voice of Despair 100%] sounded foreign to him—his own vocal cords, yet the emotions it carried were…
Your Answer was supposed to be about persevering through hardship, but this version felt like a whisper from some eldritch deity: "Life's like this. Just lie down—it's easier."
"Phew—" Chu Zhi fully grasped the lesson: "Don't mess around with hacks you don't understand."
Gloomy Sunday was a globally banned song rumored to have driven hundreds to suicide—though investigations mostly debunked it as urban legend. But Chu Zhi's recording? If someone already struggling heard it, the myth might just become reality.
After half an hour of emotional recalibration, he moved on to testing [Nine-Tenths Drunk, I'm Not Human].
The results? Classified. Don't ask. Chu Zhi has a reputation to maintain.
His day off was packed. Among other things, he finalized the self-funded publication of Stray Birds with Albert Publishing.
When time off truly belonged to him, it seemed to fly by. The busy day passed in a blink.
Back to work. By mid-May, Chu Zhi had seven endorsements:
—Watsons
—Helen Keller Sunglasses
—Iced Tea
—UC Browser
—Armani Men's Skincare
—Dior Sauvage Fragrance
—Nescafé
Negotiations for new deals were stuck—none would budge past 30 million RMB. Nescafé, UC Browser, and Dior were eerily synchronized, all offering 28 million annually with signing bonuses negotiable:
—UC Browser: 2.8 million signing bonus
—Nescafé & Dior: 3.5 million signing bonus
The signing bonuses were a way to "raise" his fee without actually increasing the base rate—preventing future endorsers from demanding higher pay. Since signing bonuses counted as other income and were taxed, Chu Zhi and his team realized that without international market leverage, even awards wouldn't break the ceiling.
"Ninth Brother's move to join MBC's King of Masked Singers was a masterstroke," Niu Jiangxue thought admiringly.
She had the team draft multiple plans for Korean market expansion. The team was fired up—while others were playing defense against the Korean Wave, they were charging straight at the enemy crystal.
Old Qian asked, "The show airs in three days. How big do you think you'll blow up in Korea?"
"How big?" Chu Zhi pondered. "Big enough to stir the pot."
"At MBC, I even overheard bathroom chatter like, 'That Chinese star must be plastic,' and 'I don't think so—achieving that level of beauty through surgery is as hard as being born with it. Also, the way he clapped back at Yoo Jin-ryong was badass.'" Old Qian grinned. "Most of the audience was conquered by your face."
"Wait—Old Qian, you speak Korean?" Chu Zhi was surprised.
"Of course. My ex-girlfriend was from Seoul," Old Qian replied casually.
"Wasn't your ex from Osaka?" Wang Yuan interjected quietly.
"Don't spout nonsense," Old Qian corrected, looking flustered. "That was my ex-ex-ex."
"..." Chu Zhi concluded that Old Qian was truly a legend.
"Why wouldn't he flex his Korean skills earlier?" If Chu Zhi had that ability, he'd have shown off at every opportunity. Sadly, he only knew English, Japanese, Sichuan dialect, Mandarin, and a smidge of Shanghainese.
A brief interlude later, work resumed. Fei Ge was busy negotiating an eighth endorsement—TikTok's Chief Content Moderator.
Beyond standard promotional duties, TikTok wanted Chu Zhi to open an official account. That wasn't a problem—they could hire a social media manager—but it would cost extra.
The two sides were locked in a tug-of-war over pricing.
The next morning, as Chu Zhi boarded his van, Old Qian brought good news.
"Ninth Brother, the third version of the app is ready. Want to take a look?"
"Of course." Chu Zhi opened the app—titled [Home]—on his phone.
This was a fan community app he had commissioned to better connect with… ahem, to thank his supporters.
Celebrities creating dedicated apps for fans wasn't new. On Earth, Xu Song's Vae+ and Joker Xue's Joker.Xue were successful examples. Even Jay Chou and Huang Zitao had tried it.
Xu Song pioneered the trend back in 2005, so the concept wasn't fresh. Though only Xu and Xue's apps survived long-term (the others flopped), this parallel world had yet to see such a move.
A dedicated fan discussion app? Little Fruits (his fandom) would be moved to tears—and it'd help recruit new members from the wider fandom pool.
Chu Zhi's goal was simple: "There are only two types of fangirls—Little Fruits, and those who like Chu Zhi but haven't become Little Fruits yet."
Why did Jay Chou and Huang Zitao's apps fail? In terms of popularity, Zitao was one of the "Returned Four." In terms of legacy, Jay was untouchable.
Where did they go wrong?
Xu Song and Joker Xue offered free music…
Well, what a coincidence! Chu Zhi's music was also free.
Opening [Home], the first row of tabs read:
[Orange Trends Are Good]
[Popping Up]
[Orchard Events]
[Videos]