Sixty-plus charity invitations—ranging from the Ministry of Culture and Tourism's "World Book Day" promotion (essentially an invite from People's Daily to two dozen A-list stars to post about "reading good books") to a tourism ambassador request from Fengdu County in Chongqing, hoping to use three of his portraits for publicity.
"Charity means no pay," Chu Zhi mused. He knew he had to accept a few—celebrities needed Charity Activities to shape their image and give back to society.
"Fengdu County Tourism Bureau, World Book Day, and Guangdong's Wildlife Protection Advocacy Conference."
He picked three from the pile and forwarded them to Old Qian. Why not Niu Jiangxue? Because yesterday was her birthday. Even though it was past midnight, a day off meant a full day off. Let Old Qian handle it for now.
"These people really think celebrity teams are stupid? 'Charity' on their lips, business in their hearts," Chu Zhi scoffed.
After wrapping up work, he washed up and checked his phone. A message from Disciple of the Big Cat:
[I'll be in Shanghai tomorrow. If you're free, Nine, I'd love to treat you to dinner and introduce someone.]
[Dinner's on me. I've lived in Shanghai long enough to host.]
Disciple of the Big Cat: [Looking forward to it. That private kitchen in Changsha was delicious last time.]
Delicious? Could've fooled him. The guy had been frowning through the meal like it was some culinary atrocity.
Chu Zhi didn't believe in pinning chats. He'd long since unpinned Bai Xia's.
Where there's giving, there's taking. He sensed Bai Xia was about to ask for a favor—finally, some normalcy. One-sided help always felt off.
"Guess I'll find out what Bai Xia really wants tomorrow."
His schedule was packed, but he called Old Qian to clear his evening. Hosting dinner required at least two to three hours.
Chu Zhi was in his career ascent—busy, but still clocking eight hours of sleep. A far cry from his predecessor, whom Kang Fei had milked dry, sleep-deprived and overworked.
"Kaifeng's company is already a laughingstock in the industry. And Dahua's cash cow, Li Xingwei, just got his crown knocked off by me."
Enough? Not quite. Truth was, Chu Zhi hadn't even flexed yet. Li Xingwei had walked into this one all on his own.
His tarot cards claimed 1 AM was his luckiest hour.
Chu Zhi wasn't superstitious—he just believed anything that favored him. Even those cheesy personality quizzes? If they flattered him, they were accurate.
Currently, he had 15 Personality Coins—8 originally, plus 7 from two recent achievements:
[Over-Carb Day x5] (4 coins)
[Bare-Faced in Public x5] (3 coins)
Attending events counted as "public."
Honestly, Chu Zhi wasn't exactly a "personality" star yet. Aside from the bare-faced stunt, nothing else stood out.
"Soon. One more album to solidify my foundation, then I'll lean into the 'personality' bit."
He thought of Pu Shu, an iconoclast from his past life. Mid-recording, Pu had announced it was bedtime and left.
No judgment—maybe his contract allowed it. But the public reaction was telling:
"Pu Shu lives the life we all dream of."
"This is so Pu Shu."
Why? Because he was Pu Shu—the man behind Those Flowers, Life Like Summer Flowers, White Birch Forest, and Ordinary Path.
Talent earned indulgence. But first, you had to show that talent.
"Hope this draw lands me something special."
He washed his hands with Diva hand soap (for luck). Vocal skills weren't built in a day—he wanted a shortcut.
Coach, let me cheat.
"System bro, hit me with a draw. And auto-display the prize pool."
[Japanese Language Pack]
[English Language Pack]
[Title: Night King]
[Fireworks Cool Easily Song Pack]
[Album: U87]
[Album: Custom Pack]
"Two language packs? System bro noticed my struggles with Japanese and English? So thoughtful." Chu Zhi gave a thumbs-up. "Never met a system as considerate as you."
(Well, he'd never met any system.)
Prizes breakdown:
Language Packs: Self-explanatory.
Night King: A legendary title. "You're the baddest in the dark. At night, you exude Conqueror's Haki—you are the night's sovereign. Weak-willed kneel before you."
"Okay, that's extra… but I want it."
Fireworks Cool Easily: A classic Chinese-style ballad.
Albums:
Custom: Xu Song's debut, featuring Rain on Qingming—a nostalgic favorite. Every track was a hit.
U87: Eason Chan's magnum opus, including Overrated. Crowned "2005's Top 5 Must-Buy Asian Albums."
Time to draw.
Chu Zhi mumbled, "Hi, I'm Vae. This is my debut album, Custom. All songs written, composed, and arranged by me…"
(As if reciting it boosted his odds. Copium.)
He wanted Custom most. Eason's album was legendary, but those vocals?
Eason Chan—Hong Kong's third-generation "God of Songs." His low-end control was insane, his mixed voice indistinguishable from his chest voice. Even covers by others rarely did justice.
First draw: English Language Pack.
"Not bad." He soothed his disappointment. "Better than Japanese. Gotta sing in English if I'm aiming for global pop king."
The pack flooded his mind with 20+ years of native English mastery—slang, idioms, cultural nuance. He could now ace the CATTI translation exam blindfolded.
"Maybe I'll take the CATTI for fun."
Wait—with this English level, could he publish Stray Birds overseas?
Previously, he'd hesitated—writing English poetry with shaky language skills was risky. Now? No issue.
A college dropout becomes a world-renowned poet through self-study and life experience? What's more inspiring than that?
(Note: Real-life example—Xu Lizhi, the "Migrant Worker Poet," wrote raw, haunting verses before his tragic death at 24.)
After some research, he found no Western equivalent to China's poetry platforms. Guess he'd have to submit a full manuscript to publishers.
Second draw: The prize pool looked even wilder this time.