Niu Jiangxue's team undoubtedly fanned the flames—especially since they leveraged company resources, namely ByteDance.
Chu Zhi's ancient-style looks nearly took over the entire Douyin platform in a single day. The MV's content was concise, fast-paced, and perfect for short videos.
Title: "How Enchanting Can a Man Really Be?"
Content: A montage of Chu Zhi's demonic transformation, set to alternative music.
Title: "Love Across Mountains and Seas, Yet No Obstacle Stands in the Way"
Content: Chu Zhi's "Drunken Sword Immortal" persona protecting the female lead, followed by the scene of him refining the Flawless Golden Elixir, paired with a voiceover of a video host breaking into tears.
Title: "The Frost Carries the Sound of War Drums, the Cold Light Shines on Armor—Now, Fight!"
Content: A slightly more edited version, tweaking some scenes. Due to the MV's runtime, there weren't any shots of demons slaughtering humans, but the video host dug up some unrelated, gruesome images of demons committing atrocities. Then, with an intense soundtrack, they cut together General Chu Zhi charging into battle, his spear striking like a dragon, clashing with the demons in an earth-shaking showdown. Was it hype? Hell yes. More hype than that anime.
Director Liao Dachong hadn't allowed stunt doubles during filming, so how did they handle the fact that Chu Zhi couldn't even twirl a spear properly, making the battle scenes lack impact?
Simple—just make the extras work harder. Chu Zhi kept posing dramatically while the stunt actors in demon costumes acted their hearts out, selling the illusion.
For the first time, Chu Zhi experienced what it was like to act without using his brain. So even if he ever broke his rule (for enough money) to star in a drama, the director or assistant director had to be Liao Dachong. No one else would do.
Many casual netizens who didn't follow celebrities but idly scrolled through short videos found themselves hooked.
"What drama is this from?"
"Holy crap, this is intense. That scholar look is hitting me hard—first time in my life I've felt my looks threatened."
"Wait, is that actor Chu Zhi? No way, no way."
Curiosity led them to search, and even if the video hosts didn't answer, they quickly discovered the clips were from the "Like Smoke" MV. The album's popularity skyrocketed.
The office was buzzing too—
"Nine, Mango TV's Sisters Who Make Waves Season 2 wants you as the show's ambassador. They're offering 100 million."
Niu Jiangxue paused before adding, "But aside from filming twelve main episodes, you'd also need to promote it and shoot around seven or eight spin-off episodes."
A quick calculation showed the rate per episode remained at 5 million, though spin-offs were easier to film. Mango TV was effectively raising the price in disguise.
"Does Sisters Who Make Waves clash with iQiyi's The Original recording schedule?" Chu Zhi asked.
"Yes." Niu Jiangxue nodded, then added, "So we're planning to let them bid against each other."
Chu Zhi agreed. This wasn't an auction where the highest bidder automatically won—that would be too blunt. Instead, they'd subtly nudge both sides. Niu Jiangxue knew what she was doing, so he didn't elaborate.
"Niu-jie, leave early today. Whatever work you have can wait till tomorrow." Chu Zhi suddenly said, putting down his phone.
"Huh?" Niu Jiangxue was stunned.
"Isn't today your birthday? Take half a day off."
"But—" She hesitated, reluctant to leave her work unfinished.
"Money's here, don't worry. It's fine if you disappear for half a day—go enjoy yourself." Chu Zhi smiled. "You said you don't like crowds, so I didn't throw you a party. Enjoy some alone time."
"…Alright. Thank you, Nine." After a brief silence, Niu Jiangxue thanked him sincerely.
"What's there to thank? We're a team!"
Good news came in pairs—a 100-million-yuan offer and a surge in applications to join the Orange Orchard fan groups. Wei Tongzi, as a core fan, had established over twenty Orange Orchard groups, which now functioned as semi-official fan hubs.
Joining wasn't as simple as knowing the group number. Applicants had to pass screening—partly to weed out antis, but mostly because demand was overwhelming.
For every happy fan, there was a disgruntled one—Newton's Third Law of Karma. While readers might lose monthly and recommendation votes, they could still gain the joy of supporting their favorite author.
While fan leader Wei Tongzi was overjoyed, the third official fan group of Li Xingwei was in chaos as members left en masse.
[We promised to walk the flower path with gege together. And now this?]
Group leader Bingtang Xueli (Rock Sugar Snow Pear) was furious. Quitting was one thing—real life came first—but defecting to the enemy camp as Little Oranges? That was outright betrayal!
[I'm exhausted from all the chart battles. Bought three USB albums for Li-ge, even if it means eating dirt. But he still wants us to push harder… I'm just tired.]
[Not trying to start anything, but I kinda envy Chu Zhi's fans.]
[Bing-jie, don't make it sound so serious. We just need a break.]
More and more members left.
Bingtang Xueli was livid. They made it sound so noble, but she knew they were just jumping ship—she had a mole in the Orange Orchard.
Did having a spy in a fan group sound extreme? Not at all! Wars between top stars were like this. Anti-fans often posed as supporters, and the simplest way to sabotage was to spam unrelated videos with the name of the star you hated.
Many of Li Xingwei's most loyal Snow Pear fans had already passed screening and joined the new Orange Orchard groups. All Bingtang Xueli could do was rage helplessly.
You could force someone to support an idol, but you couldn't force them to like one.
Just as the Orange Orchard had strict entry requirements, Li Xingwei's official groups did too. Those leaving were the ones who'd spent real money supporting him.
And if this many were quitting openly, how many more were silently defecting?
Li Xingwei's team knew immediately, but… there was no defense.
The best counterattack would've been to fight visuals with visuals—release stunning photos. But… that would've been suicidal. If it was 90 vs. 94, fan delusion could bridge the gap.
But 85 vs. 94? That was just asking for humiliation.
[Is being handsome all that matters?]
[If he's so good-looking, why doesn't he become a gigolo?]
[Singers should rely on skill!]
These three thoughts echoed in Li Xingwei's mind. He regretted it—not going head-to-head with Chu Zhi, but not having a better team. If he'd had Chu Zhi's team, the winner would've been Li.
"Can't a singer just rely on talent?!" Li Xingwei cried out once more. Chu Zhi had endless tricks up his sleeve, while his own strategy—using achievements to garner sympathy—felt pathetic in comparison.
His disdained team had done everything possible—chart battles, award campaigns, using results to placate fans. But under Chu Zhi's overwhelming popularity, their efforts crumbled like paper.
Lin Xia, who saw Li Xingwei as a rival, was delighted. In high spirits, he finished a two-hour fashion shoot in just ninety minutes.
"Thanks for your hard work, Teacher Lin." The photographer said.
Lin Xia waved it off and headed to the break room.
"Xian-ge, let me tell you—I knew Chu Zhi wasn't ordinary the first time I saw him. Wanna know why?" He nudged his manager.
"Because he's extraordinary!" Xian-ge declared.
"No shit, Xian-ge." Lin Xia rolled his eyes. "My grandma once said that anyone handsomer than me is either a monster or not human. I took one look at Chu Zhi and knew—this guy's a monster. Writes hits, looks unreal. See? Befriending him was the right call."
Xian-ge admitted he'd misjudged. He'd warned Lin Xia against associating with Chu Zhi back when he was a has-been. Who'd have guessed he'd not only bounce back but surpass his former glory?
"So people—" Lin Xia sighed dramatically.
Xian-ge turned, waiting for the profound conclusion.
"As long as you don't die, you'll keep on living." Lin Xia said. "And as long as you live, you'll see all sorts of things."
"…"
Back to the mass exodus—as the Like Smoke MV blew up, Snow Pears kept jumping ship.
Some said girls who chased idols were all unhappy in real life—after all, if life was good, why obsess over stars?
There was some truth to that. But how many people did have perfect lives? Every family had its struggles.
Bingtang Xueli was forty-two, a high-ranking executive at Minute Maid's North China office. By her age, her position marked her as successful—and capable.
Her idol obsession stemmed from coincidence. Years ago, after a fight with her husband (who'd spent days partying at bars and KTVs instead of coming home), their marriage became a hollow shell.
Bound by their child, they didn't divorce, but the damage was done. Trapped in misery but too well-raised to retaliate with her own escapades, she stumbled upon Li Xingwei—fresh from Japan's Johnny & Associates—shining on a variety show.
From then on, she became a fan. As Li Xingwei climbed to stardom, he became her emotional crutch.
"They're leaving over an MV?"
Bingtang Xueli finally watched the MV. She'd been too busy helping her idol chart to pay attention to the news. It felt absurd—how could true love be shaken by a song, by a video?