The next tier of the [Ruthless Spice Devourer] achievement required eating spicy food 100 times, while [Smoking Emperor] demanded 500 cigarettes. It would be a while before his next big harvest.
Though Chu Zhi was tempted to go all out and splurge on three blind boxes, reason prevailed—he settled for two.
Silently calling out to the system, the prize pool materialized before him, presenting six options:
—[Song Voucher x2]
—[Oddity: Memory Bread]
—[Latin Dance Mastery]
—["Little Dimples"Song Package]
—["Nocturne"Song Package]
—[Grand Prize: Zhao Yuanren's Genius]
There it was—the elusive Grand Prize, shimmering tantalizingly out of reach.
But wait—who was Zhao Yuanren?
Previous grand prizes had been self-explanatory: Beethoven's Composition Talent, Vitas' Vocal Range, Chopin's Piano Skills. But "Genius"?
Curious, Chu Zhi checked the details—and nearly choked. Zhao Yuanren was a polymath of staggering proportions. To list just a few credentials:
—One of the "Four Great Mentors of Tsinghua" alongside Liang Qichao, Chen Yinke, and Wang Guowei.
—Father of modern Chinese linguistics.
—PhD in Philosophy from Harvard.
—Taught Physics at Cornell University.
Why would such a titan appear in a music-centric prize pool?
Because Zhao was also a renowned musician. He composed alma maters for Xiamen University and Yunnan University, among others. Though less famous online than his peers, he was legendary in academic circles—particularly for his tongue-twisting Lion-Eating Poet in the Stone Den (a Chinese homophonic poem).
Oh, and he was also a polyglot translator, fluent in English, French, Japanese, Russian, German, Greek, and Latin. His translation of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland remains unrivaled in Chinese literature.
The man even mastered over 30 Chinese dialects, allowing him to blend in seamlessly anywhere in the country.
"Philosophy, physics, linguistics, music—any one of these at a professorial level would require genius," Chu Zhi muttered. "But Zhao excelled in all of them. His contributions to modern Chinese are peerless."
He sighed. No way I'm winning this. Zhao's genius dwarfed even the previous grand prizes. Touched? More like terrified.
[Memory Bread]: Like Doraemon's gadget—eat it to memorize any printed content. No risk of "losing memories via digestion" (unlike the cartoon).
[Latin Dance Mastery]: Not that he had anything against Latin dance… but it felt odd for a top idol.
"Nocturne": A Jay Chou classic that swept awards in 2006. "When 'Nocturne' plays, step up to claim your trophy."
"Little Dimples": A sugary 2008 hit. ("Little dimples, long eyelashes—your signature charm.")
Chu Zhi picked a blind box—
[Song Voucher x2]
"Not bad!" He exhaled in relief. Second-best prize in the pool.
The vouchers allowed him to buy any song from his memory for just 3 Personality Coins—including Nocturne. While pricey (equivalent to an Oddity), the unrestricted choice made it a strategic ace.
Downside? No "package" perks like automatic copyright registration or demo recordings—just the final product in his mind.
But that was fine. Once signed to a label, they'd handle the paperwork. These songs would cement his "prodigal composer" image. Hence why he'd livestreamed his album process—proof mattered.
Second Draw
New prize pool:
—[3-Minute High Note Genius]
—[Title: Scholar-Gentleman (Epic)]
—[Oddity: Non-Stick Candy]
—["No Entry, Customer!"Song Package]
—["Invisible Wings"Song Package]
—[Grand Prize: Misc. Song Medley]
3-Minute High Note Genius: A daily-use skill for flawless high notes. (Like a gaming cooldown.)
Scholar-Gentleman: An epic-tier title exuding cultured elegance (think: composer Ryuichi Sakamoto's aura).
Non-Stick Candy: Previously explained—prevents sugar residue.
"Invisible Wings": Angela Chang's iconic anthem of resilience.
"No Entry, Customer!": A nostalgic internet-era bop by Xu Liang.
Then there was the "Grand Prize"— [Misc. Song Medley]
A dump of TikTok-viral tracks:
"Learn to Meow"
"The Rest of My Life"
"Desert Camel"
"Too Much Love, Too Little Paper"
"Ba'erben and Ben'erba" (Yes, that meme song.)
"Hug You in This Mediocre Life"
Dozens of "low-effort hits"—either plagiarized or assembly-line compositions.
Industry secret: Labels mass-buy such songs (¥7,000–12,000 apiece) to spam releases. Some "composers" pump out two per week.
"Learn to Meow", for instance, is musically barren—cookie-cutter melody, uninspired chords, repetitive structure. No wonder professionals scoff.
"I want Scholar-Gentleman… or at least the high-note skill," Chu Zhi prayed.
He picked a box—
[Misc. Song Medley]
"…Seriously?"
Staring at the dozen-odd meme songs, Chu Zhi sighed—then chuckled. "Well, some are catchy. 'Your Bar Closed Early for Me'…"
Humming "I stumbled toward you, but you can't leave alone," he brightened. Imagine casually dropping these as "throwaways" and still topping charts. Now that's flexing.
"Tongtong, did you notice?" Pang Pu whispered, brow furrowed. "Teacher Chu spaces out a lot."
"Huh?" Superfan Wei Tongzi snapped out of her daze—even his zoning-out face was handsome. But yes, he'd been motionless for minutes mid-history reading. Unusual.