"Brother Chu really knows how to play the PR game."
Indeed, FallenAngel_Lucifer was one of Fly Team's burner accounts—meticulously crafted to withstand scrutiny.
This was why forums like Douban and Zhihu always seemed to have "insiders" or "relatives of insiders" leaking info. The internet felt like a den of hidden dragons and crouching tigers.
Of course it did. Because those dragons and tigers were planted there on purpose.
"An idol who constantly interacts with fans—who can compete with that?"
"Working with a high-IQ artist is a dream."
Fly Team's leader reminisced about his previous client—a brain-dead idiot who made his blood pressure spike. He'd explicitly warned: Don't take photos at Yasukuni Shrine. If you do, don't post them. If you post them, don't use your main account. And what did the moron do? All of the above. His career imploded. Serves him right.
With work wrapped up early, Fly decided to reward himself with instant noodles for dinner.
Wait—he couldn't let his fans go hungry.
Facing his camera, he announced: "Just grabbing some quick instant noodles."
He set up the shot, then pulled ingredients from his fridge: 300g of M9 Australian Wagyu eye fillet, cubed.
A pot of five-animal supreme broth simmered in the pressure cooker—Fly's signature move was using ludicrously expensive ingredients to elevate instant noodles.
Thirty minutes later, the aromatic masterpiece was ready. Chopsticks lifted a bundle of noodles toward the camera.
"Fans eat first—oh wait, you can't. Guess I'll eat for you." He slurped loudly.
As a Bilibili foodie UP (content creator), Fly occasionally posted gourmet troll videos. This one ended with his catchphrase: "Wipe your drool and go order takeout." After minor edits, it went live.
Fly's team shared an apartment near Joy City. Post-meal, he stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out—
"What's that?"
Joy City's Ferris wheel glittered unusually bright. Zooming in with his phone, he deciphered the message:
[Little Fruits celebrate 25117 Possibilities topping 18 domestic music charts!]
"Holy shit? This hardcore?" Fly had seen celebs rent LED billboards for birthdays, but for an album release? This was next-level.
Clearly, Chu Zhi's "mom fans" had mobilized. Beyond Joy City, several Bund megascreens now displayed:
[25,117 possibilities, all for A-Jiu. We couldn't join your youth, but we'll grow old with you.]
The scale dwarfed anything Li Xing Wei could muster. The hashtag trended before Li's team noticed—over an hour later.
Niu Jiangxue and team were stunned. They knew Little Fruits were powerful, but this was terrifying.
"Plans need adjusting. Immediately."
Fan actions could elevate an idol's status. With this organic fan movement—paired with the album's critical and commercial success—they could renegotiate endorsement deals.
Translation: Time to demand more money.
For instance, Baidu Maps' voice pack deal (recording 50 navigation phrases like "Turn right") initially offered 2 million RMB (~$280K). Now? Niu Jiangxue could push for 3 million. "Our artist's voice is premium. Pay up."
Late-night meetings ensued with PR and finance.
Meanwhile, Fly's "leak" on Douban—initially met with skepticism—had spread through fan groups and QQ spaces.
Then, a verifiedDream of the Red Chamber technician confirmed:
[Clarifying rumors: The "25,117" indeed references fan-submitted titles during the livestream. Chu Zhi personally requested our team to tally them post-show.]
Case closed. Casual fans, Little Fruits, and even rival stans reacted:
"Aaaaah! What kind of fairy idol is this?? Others, take notes!"
"Please listen to 25117 Possibilities. Nine put his soul into this."
"Being Chu Zhi's fan is bliss. He treats us like friends. @SuYiwu @WuTang LEARN FROM HIM."
"Bruh, tagging them directly? You've got a death wish?"
"Honestly, I'm a Toffee (Wu Tang fan), but even I wish Tang would do this. The participation—the gratitude—I'm gonna cry."
This maneuver converted casual listeners into loyalists. Chu's "Orange Garden" gained countless new Little Fruits, now strutting with pride.
Other fandoms seethed with envy. Even those parroting "Our idol makes music for artistry, not fanservice" secretly wished for involvement.
(But switching idols was unlikely—sunk cost fallacy is real. Unless, say, a better option appeared…)
Snow Pears, already struggling against Little Fruits' assault, collapsed entirely after the 25,117 reveal.
The coup de grâce? Every major platform now hosted "Can't Do Without Li" roast sessions.
Little Fruits kept it civil:
"25117 leads in quality and buzz. Taste is subjective, but starting fights isn't. Retract 'Real music is measured by sales, not free downloads.'"
Netizens reveled in the spectacle—top idols rarely clashed so directly. The "Six Kings" usually dominated separate niches.
By internet law: Only when losing do stans play the "reason" card. Snow Pears writhed in frustration, because by "daoge rules" (gang ethics): The instigator is the bitch.
And Li's side threw the first punch.
Casual listeners, oblivious to the drama, simply enjoyed the music—and Chu's album delivered. Chu won twice.
The "Li Xing Wei Fan Club" Weibo admin turned off comments, unable to withstand the onslaught.
Li himself seethed—but since he'd approved the inflammatory posts, blaming his team was hypocritical.
"Do these idiots lack brains? Why didn't they stop me?" He inhaled sharply.
Even Can't Do Without Li hitting 50 million RMB in sales couldn't lift his mood.
"We're both singers. Shouldn't we compete on music? Why resort to dirty tricks?" His glare could've melted steel.
Li's team pivoted to sales milestones—avoiding direct confrontation. If Chu's attacks ended here, Li would survive (just bruised ego).
But Chu wasn't done.
Day 2 of the Album War
"'Like Smoke' is the album's true masterpiece. Am I the only one who thinks so?"
Nagoya University exchange student Sumi Nanako—self-dubbed "Ding July" (七月 Qīyuè, as nana means "seven" in Japanese)—murmured in accented Mandarin.
At twenty, she softly sang her favorite lyrics:
"At seven, catching a cicada, thinking I'd caught summer... At seventeen, kissing her cheek, believing it'd last forever..."
"Nanako, shut up! We're trying to study," her dormmate snapped.
"Sorry! Call me July—please." Nanako bowed.
"Sure, Nanako. Whatever, Nanako."
Typical Japanese "small courtesy, no integrity", Nanako thought. She switched to headphones.
Japanese fans obsessed over MVs. A lazy MV drew scorn; a great one credited the composer, not the singer.
Recent viral MVs included "Might As Well Dance" (wacky) and "Though Our Hands Are Empty" (tearjerker).
Nanako hit play.