Cat Pet was a lighthearted romantic comedy starring fresh-faced young actors who delivered natural, unforced performances. The sweetness felt genuine, not cringe-worthy.
The plot followed Xiao Ai, who harbored a secret crush on her school's heartthrob but lacked the courage to confess. After swapping souls with a cat, she somehow made the male lead confess to her instead.
"Truly, no straight man can resist a kitten," Chu Zhi mused after watching.
He recalled a popular meme: [Cat: Woman, I've beaten you in every way. JPG]
"So, Teacher Chu, what do you think? Most importantly—is it worth the ticket price?" Director Guo asked with a grin.
Guo Xun had climbed his way up from a production assistant, so he cared little about appearances. His overgrown hair had recently been sheared into a crew cut, his morning shave was half-hearted at best, and his wardrobe consisted solely of black, white, and gray. He exuded the no-nonsense aura of a pragmatic craftsman.
"Worth it. Absolutely worth it. I'll definitely buy tickets when it releases," Chu Zhi said, though he kept one thought to himself: "It's hard to believe this sugary rom-com was written and directed by this scruffy middle-aged man."
"The cat CGI looks incredibly realistic. That must've cost a fortune," Chu Zhi remarked.
This was a point of pride for Director Guo, who eagerly elaborated: "I deliberately cast lesser-known actors to keep costs down, then poured the budget into the CGI cat. We even used three golden British Shorthairs—Duoduo, Ruanruan, and Mimi—as reference models."
"We captured at least 70% of a real cat's charm," Guo declared. "Only while making this film did I realize—why are cats so damn adorable? I ended up adopting Duoduo."
With absolute conviction, he added: "How can such perfect little creatures as cats even exist?"
"Well, there goes another cat slave," Chu Zhi observed, amused by the stark contrast between Guo's rugged exterior and his newfound feline obsession.
"Ahem." Guo caught himself getting carried away and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. His cigarette case had a sleeve covered in cartoon cat faces.
"Smoke?" Guo offered.
"I prefer women's cigarettes. Care to try one?" Chu Zhi produced his own pack.
"Too mild for me. I'll stick to Marlboros," Guo said, lighting up.
Chu Zhi was relieved that Niu Juan was outside discussing matters with the producer. He didn't hide his smoking from cameras but made a point to avoid doing so around non-smokers.
"Any thoughts, Teacher Chu?" Guo asked. "I'm well aware of your creative genius—What I Miss is already in my playlist."
Cat Pet had a shrewd producer. For a mid-budget film (50-80 million yuan range), they'd managed to stay under budget.
Director Guo made no apologies for his commercial approach. As he put it: "I'm making commercial films to get rich—why would I still care about pride?"
With leftover funds and investor approval, they'd allocated 5 million yuan to hire Chu Zhi—the hottest star in China—to compose and perform the theme song. The fee wasn't just for the song itself; it also included promotional commitments.
"I have an idea, Director Guo," Chu Zhi proposed. "What if I create a song on the spot—lyrics and melody—in ten minutes? I could even arrange it immediately."
"Ten minutes?" Guo felt like he was being hustled. He'd worked with talented musicians before, but this seemed absurd.
More importantly, this was a thematic assignment—it wasn't enough to just whip up a song; it had to fit the movie.
"Are you suggesting we film the improv process as promotional material?" Guo summarized. If pulled off, it'd be brilliant marketing—implying the film was inspiring enough to spark instant creativity.
"Just a suggestion. The final approach is up to you," Chu Zhi said diplomatically.
"I'll need to discuss this with the producer. One moment, Teacher Chu." Guo made the call.
The producer shared Guo's concerns but agreed it was worth a shot. Movie trailers could take many forms—clips, cast interviews, even the male lead jokingly threatening to do adult films if it flopped. A theme song release was perfectly conventional, akin to Hollywood's "promotional singles."
"Let's do it," Guo agreed after hanging up. Then, tactfully: "Will this... improv session happen today, or should we schedule it?" His tone implied they could fake the spontaneity later if needed.
"No need. Watching Cat Pet genuinely gave me inspiration. The chords will be simple, but I already hear a lazy, playful little tune in my head," Chu Zhi said.
"Oh?" Guo's curiosity was piqued.
"China Film Group has a recording studio. We can do this start-to-finish right here." Guo summoned a cameraman to document the process from lyric-writing onward.
"I'll invite Niu Juan to join us." Chu Zhi discreetly opened a window for ventilation.
"This building needs renovations," he noted, struggling with the rusted window track.
The modest meeting room now felt cramped with both teams present—Qian Zhong, Niu Juan, and Wang Yuan (since lead and executive brokerage roles overlapped, Chu Zhi's team had merged the positions). Absent was assistant Xiao Zhu, who stayed in the nanny car during formal events.
From the film side: the cameraman, director, producer, and the suddenly summoned female lead—18-year-old Ning Mixue.
"Control yourself," Guo chided as Ning stared at Chu Zhi with starstruck awe.
"Cough—it's Chu Zhi! Lord Ninth is my eternal idol!" Ning gushed.
"Weren't you just saying you liked Yuan Weifeng?" Guo exposed her.
"Double Golden Rooster and Hong Kong Film Award winner—an incredible actor I'd love to work with. But Lord Ninth is different—he's my idol." Ning adored Sleepwalking and Like Smoke—their niche artistry spoke to her.
Under the camera's gaze, Chu Zhi swiftly penned the lyrics, then notated the melody.
Writing lyrics first was standard (Cantopop reversed the process due to tonal constraints). The Miscellaneous Songs Collection from his system rewards proved useful—after watching the film, he'd immediately thought: This is perfect for "Learn to Meow!"
"Learn to Meow" relied on three-chord simplicity with repetitive AB melodies—elementary by design. But if framed as an improvised creation sparked by the film, its simplicity became a virtue.
"Done. To convey that lazy, cozy vibe, I went with a nursery rhyme-like repetition."
"For the arrangement, we'll use early punk's three-chord foundation. I think this perfectly matches the film's theme."
"All set—let's head to the studio."
Chu Zhi finished in under ten minutes, even explaining his creative choices to Guo.
"Unbelievable speed," Guo thought. He'd never witnessed such rapid-fire songwriting.
The group proceeded to China Film's seldom-used recording studio, where the equipment remained functional. The song's arrangement was so straightforward that Chu Zhi—drawing from his album production experience—completed it swiftly.
"Let's make this a duet. It'd suit the film better," Chu Zhi suddenly suggested.
"Really? Me? I've never sung before—won't I ruin it?" Ning vibrated with barely contained excitement.
"The song's technically undemanding. Just channel the lazy playfulness—or the mischievousness of being possessed by a cat," Chu Zhi encouraged.
Ning looked pleadingly at the director, itching to participate.
After consideration, Guo agreed—a duet did align better with the storyline.
As for the film's male lead? Was he as famous as Chu Zhi? No? Then he can wait outside.