Chu Zhi had gained some fame on China Poetry Website—not because people recognized the brilliance of his short poems, but because three of them had been selected as "Daily Best Poems" within three weeks, with one even picked up in contest.
Since ancient times, scholars have disdained each other. Short poems, with their minimal word count, seemed deceptively simple—low literary threshold, shallow content. Yet earning 500 yuan for just thirty or forty characters? Even kindergarten math could calculate that each word was worth over ten yuan. The return on investment was too damn high.
"Above the Blue Fall": "Huainan, your verses are decent—just too short. Took me two or three years on this site to realize the judges prefer brevity."
"Yellow River Hermit": "Modern poetry allows flexible rhythm and diverse forms, but that doesn't mean it should lack aesthetic standards. Otherwise, we're just lowering the bar."
"Ruins": "Feels more like a QQ status than poetry. Hard pass."
No outright curses or personal attacks—the comments were still cultured, dripping with veiled sarcasm. The core issue? "Daily Best Poem" was a single daily slot. Sometimes, if no worthy piece was found, it'd remain empty. The pie was too small, and one person hogging it? Of course, it'd draw collective ire.
Unfazed, Chu Zhi posted two more poems today:
[Untitled]
"Moon, what are you waiting for?"
"To salute the sun, who will take my place."
[The Great Man]
A great man is a child at heart.
When he dies,
He leaves his grand childhood to the world.
Poetry was a long-term game. Chu Zhi didn't dwell on it. His real focus was the ongoing negotiations with Sun River Media. Despite their offer being the most generous so far, talks had stalled.
Initially, Sun River's Head of Artist Management (also a shareholder) handled discussions. When no agreement was reached, the company's CEO Huang Bo personally called to schedule a face-to-face meeting.
"Sure, let's talk then." Hanging up, Chu Zhi mulled over the terms. Sun River had offered an A+ contract—high autonomy, solid benefits. But his minimum requirement was an S-tier contract, ideally with Sun River's support to establish his own studio under their umbrella.
Quick Explainer:
A+: Top-tier for most artists.
S-tier: Reserved for elite talent—think superstars. No "S+" or "S++" nonsense; the "+" just meant custom clauses. Every top artist had them.
For example:
Li Xingwei's clause with Da Hua: "The company must exhaust all resources to source title tracks for each album—only finalized with his approval."
Chu Zhi's old clause with Kang Fei: "No termination rights for the company + zero revenue cut from merch/photo books."
"Chu Zhi still won't agree?" the Head of Artist Management asked.
"He didn't say yes or no. Just scheduled a meeting in Shanghai on December 15th," CEO Huang Bo replied.
The manager brightened. Even if Chu Zhi's influence was only half his peak, signing him would be a win. In his experience, an artist agreeing to meet in person meant the deal was 90% sealed.
"Wait—why the 15th? That's over ten days away." The manager frowned. Even with a packed schedule, surely Chu Zhi could spare two hours sooner?
"He's waiting to appear on Red: Dream of the Red Chamber first. Wants to leverage the exposure for better terms," Huang Bo said bluntly.
The manager chuckled. Red: Dream was hot, but it wasn't a career game-changer. Chu Zhi's strategy reeked of naivety.
"Waiting's fine." Huang Bo shifted topics to other company matters.
While corporate talks were dull, Chu Zhi stumbled upon a new system achievement:
[I Love Carbs]
(Breakfast: Ramen. Lunch: Hotpot. Dinner: More hotpot. As long as the ice cream isn't hot, it's calorie-free!)
High-calorie day ×1: 1 Personality Coin ★
High-calorie day ×3: 3 Personality Coins
...
"Serendipity. How did I miss this? Body management is literally a star's job." Chu Zhi snapped his fingers. He'd previously racked his brain for new achievement triggers—even tried staying up late—but never considered diet.
Three high-calorie meals a day unlocked the achievement. But here's the catch: Chu Zhi never ate breakfast. So how'd he manage today? Simple—he'd pulled an all-nighter and randomly craved ramen at dawn.
"Problem is, binging screws your physique. Male or female, idols live and die by their looks." Chu Zhi knew his appearance was a core asset. He wasn't lazy, but the thought of grinding in the gym daily made him shudder.
"System, got any zero-exercise weight-loss hacks?"
For domestic queries, ask Baidu. For foreign queries, ask Google. For everything else, ask the cheat code in your head.
The system responded by silently displaying the mall:
[Drunk God Pill (Never Get Drunk), World's Best Stomach Medicine, Divine Throat Lozenges, 3cm Height-Increasing Pill, Eat-All-You-Want-No-Gain Pill, Stand-and-Sleep Capsules, Never-Catch-a-Cold Tonic, No-Booger Candy, Miracle Eye Drops...]
Dozens of oddities, some familiar, some new—all priced at 3 Personality Coins each.
"System, isn't this kinda scummy? A blind draw costs 5 coins, but buying directly is 3. If I land an item in the draw, I'm losing 2 coins."
[Blind draws are inherently risky.]
Touche. If there was no risk, it wouldn't be a blind draw. Plus, he'd never even gotten an item from one yet. Greed was unbecoming.
Most items were niche. Stand-and-Sleep Capsules? Useless unless he planned to relive his school days of being punished by standing through class.
"And what's No-Booger Candy? Makes you stop being stingy?" Chu Zhi's imagination ran wild—until he read the description: "Eliminates nose boogers forever."
"So idols don't poop, and now they don't pick their noses either. Bravo."
[Item: Eat-All-You-Want-No-Gain Pill]
Function: Whatever delicious thing enters my stomach stays there—metaphysically.
PS: Don't eat gross stuff.
Price: 3 Personality Coins
"System, even you've been infected by Lin Xia's nonsense memes?" Chu Zhi groaned. After confirming "delicious" was subjective (i.e., anything he didn't hate qualified), he bought it.
Balance: 1 Personality Coin (courtesy of his first high-calorie day).
"Eat well, earn coins. Still need to buy the quit smoking and quit drinking items." Mission sorted, Chu Zhi finally went to bed.
The next day, Chu Zhi returned to Star City for the second time—this time to sign the Red: Dream of the Red Chamber contract and discuss filming outlines. The fee had already been settled over the phone.