The MV Chu Zhi released became the hottest video on Weibo that night, spreading like a torrential downpour of hidden needles—swift and all-encompassing.
Tonight, Weibo was dyed red—firefighter red.
[Top Comments]
[Conqueror_SlaughterTheWorld]: "He was a son to his parents, a husband to his wife, a father to his child—yet he died saving strangers. Just because they were fellow countrymen. He was a firefighter." (159K likes)
[OldWang'sOlderBrother]: "I used to be a firefighter too, retired last year due to injury… This video broke me. I never understood why my mom insisted on calling me no matter how late it was—until one time I forgot my phone while showering. She called all my teammates in a panic, crying when she finally reached me. She was terrified of waking up to bad news." (122K likes)
[FleetingWater_00]: "People say foreign firefighters are all college-educated, so knowledgeable and skilled. But would those 'elite foreign firefighters' risk their lives for you anytime, anywhere?" (104K likes)
[SleepyXiaoChen]: "I can't keep watching. My partner just became a firefighter, and as much as I admire them… I hope they never have to do anything dangerous." (85K likes)
The top comments weren't from Little Fruits (fans)—not because they weren't active, but because the video had gone viral among casual viewers.
Public opinion flipped overnight. The online abuse against firefighters was drowned out, achieving Chu Zhi's goal: "Those who brave the storm to gather firewood for others must not freeze to death in the snow." Firefighters, who risked their lives to save others, could not be insulted like this.
Earlier, fans committing these acts didn't see themselves as villains. Chu Zhi's video forced them to confront the truth: "The people they were slandering and cursing weren't just random targets—they were heroes."
The momentum behind doxxing and harassment collapsed. Take Xiao Qi—before watching, she'd believed the "nobles" (GZ boy group's fanbase) were righteous, "punishing evil on heaven's behalf." Afterward, she realized they were the villains.
(The "nobles" was a self-given title by GZ's Chinese fans. Officially recognized or not, they embraced it—typical fandom behavior.)
Comments flooded in:
"Sobbing… firefighters are incredible. That rescue where he shielded the worker—his back must've been scraped raw."
"I'm sorry, I'm deleting my past comments."
"Next time you 'chase your dreams,' find a way that doesn't waste firefighters' time."
"Mortals who surpass gods."
"They sacrificed themselves at 18, 19… We're protected by the most reliable people."
"Please stay safe. You're human too. Save lives, but protect yourselves first, I beg you."
Among the comments, an inconspicuous account left a simple "Thank you." It was Xie Xiaoting—the firefighter at the center of the storm. His Weibo had gone unnoticed, sparing him further harassment.
Even on leave, Xie had been restless. Normally, he'd game with friends, but tonight he kept refreshing Weibo. After Chu Zhi's video dropped, the vitriol had transformed into concern.
"Why does Weibo feel like a different world overnight?" Xie didn't understand, but the weight on his chest eased—especially seeing strangers worry if he was injured.
If the MV was a subtle rebuke, Chu Zhi's 10 PM post was a full-on assault:
@EatingABigOrange: "We shouldn't deify any profession—but some professions are divine. Like firefighters. @GoodyearZeppelin_Official, you have NO right to criticize them."
If not for his public image, Chu Zhi would've added a classic trio of insults: "Talking nonsense, nonsense talker, nonsense-spewing dog!"
The entertainment world exploded. No one had dared confront the K-pop invasion head-on. To many, Chu Zhi's move was like diving past enemy towers—a reckless gamble.
Media outlets and gossip blogs spread the news: "Chu Zhi vs. K-pop Group—War Erupts!"
Public Reaction:
"Holy shit, Chu Zhi's a real one. Drop 'Lone Warrior' on streaming ASAP—I'll loop it nonstop."
"The attacks on firefighters were insane. Even crazier? No mainstream media spoke up. A celebrity had to be the first?!"
"Chu Zhi's pretty-boy looks fooled me. Dude's got spine. Respect."
Chu Zhi gained support from non-fans, including one unexpected ally: Li Xingwei, who cheered at home.
"Nice! Chu Zhi's the type to throw hands when needed. Going straight at GZ? Legend." Li grinned. (Enemy of my enemy…)
"Damn Koreans and their trash talk. If my agency allowed it, I'd flame them too." Then he shrugged. "Well, Chu Zhi's doing it for me."
Some "noble" fans apologized, but others doubled down, claiming the harassment was "just trolls" and turning on their own—a self-purge.
Then there were the delusional stans who, offended by Chu Zhi's clapback, attacked him—ignoring right or wrong.
But Chu Zhi was a top-tier star. Little Fruits weren't pushovers. All-out fan war erupted.
Next Move: Invade Korea
"Regret. So much regret. Why'd I donate 10 million in one go? Should've split it—5 mil now, 5 mil later. Less painful that way." Chu Zhi sighed. (Self-delusion: mastered.)
Donating to fire departments was nearly impossible—after the Sichuan wildfire, well-wishers were told "only official channels." Chu Zhi's contribution, while meaningful, was a drop in the bucket.
Then, his manager Niu Jie dropped news:
"Nine, MBC's King of Masked Singer invited you as a guest. Pay's low—just 950 million KRW (~5M RMB) per episode."
(Note: Korean variety shows usually pay foreigners more to offset travel costs.)
"Wait, isn't Masked Singer from Lychee TV?" Chu Zhi asked.
"It's licensed from Korea. Most of our hit shows are—even I Am a Singer was MBC's."
"We can't make our own?"
"…Let's not talk about that." (Many were outright plagiarized—international embarrassment.)
"Take it. If Korean groups come here to eat our rice, I'll raid their home." Chu Zhi smirked.
Fighting on home turf meant no real losses. But attacking their territory? That's where the real damage would be.