At first glance, "Helen Keller Eyewear" might seem like a knockoff capitalizing on the famous blind author's name, but it's actually a domestic brand headquartered in Xiamen.
This isn't surprising—Chinese brands have a history of naming quirks. For instance, "Zhonghua Toothpaste" is leased by a British company, while "Darkie Toothpaste" (now rebranded as "Darlie") remains a local brand. Businessmen have always had a knack for "misaligned" branding.
"President Wei." Secretary Zhang approached, reporting that all three models of the Visual Series were sold out across online flagship stores.
Hearing this, President Wei was smug. Even though the proposal came from the marketing department—and it was their idea to raise prices despite opposition—he was the one who approved it!
"Contact the OEM." That was his only instruction.
"He didn't even let me finish speaking. What's there to be so proud of?" Secretary Zhang internally scoffed but kept a professional smile, remaining in place.
"Uh—President Wei, there's one more thing."
"Go on."
"Over 270 physical stores have filed complaints about insufficient stock of the Visual Series." Secretary Zhang added, "We need to issue an official statement."
"A statement for what?" President Wei almost blurted out "What's the damn point?" But before the words left his mouth, he understood.
Unlike online stores, physical retailers relied on local reputation. A single negative review on platforms like Dianping could be disastrous.
"Tell them to—no, 270 stores is too many to handle individually." President Wei realized a unified response was necessary.
Secretary Zhang continued, "The situation is escalating. Our flagship boutiques have also submitted requests for urgent restocking."
Helen Keller's offline stores fell into two categories: franchised stores (externally operated) and flagship boutiques (company-owned). The former complained to HQ when nearby warehouses ran dry, while the latter could only submit formal reports.
"A full-blown crisis…" President Wei summarized.
"Basically." Secretary Zhang held back from mentioning smaller distributors also scrambling for stock.
Helen Keller was established enough to be sold in chains like "Baodao," "Senja," and "Boshi" optical shops.
"Seriously? Chu Zhi's fans are insane." President Wei even wondered if the star's company had bulk-purchased the stock.
But that was impossible—the offline stores were too scattered. For the first time, he truly grasped the power of a top-tier idol.
"Have the PR team draft a statement. I'll review it."
As Secretary Zhang left the office, he marveled at Chu Zhi's influence. Their previous endorser had been a popular A-lister, but the sales surge back then was nothing compared to this complete sellout…
[Helen Keller Eyewear Official Announcement]
"Dear customers, we regret to inform you that due to overwhelming demand, all three Visual Series models are temporarily out of stock online and offline. Our warehouses have been drained dry—we never expected such enthusiasm! Production is now in overdrive, with restocks expected by March 27.
We sincerely apologize.
#HelenKellerEyewearSoldOut"
For the fandom, this announcement was a badge of honor. The Orange Orchard celebrated wildly. An industry insider crunched the numbers: As flagship new releases, each Visual Series model likely had at least 80,000 units stocked nationwide.
A complete sellout meant 240,000 sunglasses sold at an average of ¥550 each—roughly ¥132 million (≈$18.3M) in two days. Staggering.
(Helen Keller would never release exact figures, so estimates varied. But regardless, Chu Zhi had made his mark.)
Even Xiaohongshu (Little Red Book) saw a flood of posts—fans proudly flaunting their purchases, saturating the platform with Chu Zhi-related content.
Meanwhile, the man himself was in Lingshui, Sanya, shooting an Armani campaign at Perfume Bay's private beach. With a secured perimeter, privacy wasn't an issue.
"Exhausting. This director is incompetent." Chu Zhi sat down, accepting an iced lemon water and sandwich from Xiao Zhu. He was starving.
The director's poor scheduling had wasted hours on six simple shots—just him walking and splashing in water. Compared to pros like Liao Dachong, this guy was ten Guo Jingmings worse.
"Nine, it's been 3.5 hours. We have the Zero.Infinity EDM Festival at 2 PM—we might not make it." Niu Jiangxue checked her watch.
It was already 12:30 PM. At this rate, they'd never finish in time. The festival, held at Haitang Square, was one of China's few major EDM events. The original host had been an EDM enthusiast, so Chu Zhi was making an appearance.
"We've overrun." Chu Zhi frowned.
His contract stipulated a two-hour shoot. Not only had they exceeded that, but he'd also cooperated fully—no diva behavior, just professionalism. Yet the delays weren't his fault.
(Ads don't require acting chops. He'd even asked the director what he wanted—only to be brushed off.)
"I'll call Armani's PR manager." Niu Jiangxue reached for her phone.
"Wait." Chu Zhi stopped her. "First, ask Director He what exact effect he's aiming for. If he gives clear directions, we'll handle it without escalating. No need to make things harder for fellow workers."
Niu Jiangxue hesitated. Director He was clearly being difficult—why give him chances? "Nine is too kind for this cutthroat industry."
Stepping away, she nearly dialed Armani's PR team behind Chu Zhi's back. But after a long pause, she decided to follow his wishes and approached Director He.
Director He, 32, a graduate of UIUC, had worked at a top U.S. ad agency before getting his green card and transferring to Armani's China branch. He looked down on the "backward" local industry.
"We've spent hours on this. What exactly do you need?" Niu Jiangxue kept her tone neutral.
"Aesthetic shots have no fixed standards." Director He's reply was calm but condescending. "Mr. Chu doesn't understand composition or blocking. He should just follow directions."
Niu Jiangxue's fists clenched. Without another word, she turned to leave.
"Tell Mr. Chu we're ready to resume."
Relaying the exchange verbatim to Chu Zhi, she expected outrage. Instead, he simply nodded.
"I see. Director He is that rare breed—a genuine idiot in this industry." Chu Zhi stood. "Give me Armani PR's contact. I'll handle this."
"Let the team be the bad guys." Niu Jiangxue assumed he'd complain.
"No." Chu Zhi's smile didn't reach his eyes. "After wasting my time? This is personal."