🎵 Proud youth, fearless heart, Through trials we rise, through winds we start. With fire in our eyes and stars overhead, This is our vow, the path we tread. 🎵
Chu Zhi's performance of "Proud Youth" stirred up a notable response, and another song of his—"Chinese People"—sparked even more attention.
As part of a nationwide cultural celebration led by the Ministry of Culture and Tourism and the Central Propaganda Department, songs, films, dramas, novels, and operas were selected as tributes for the Party's 100th anniversary.
The review panel for the song category consisted of senior officials from the Ministry's Arts Bureau, artists from the Central Opera House, and renowned singers from the PLA Song and Dance Ensemble.
"I personally hope to see younger voices in this tribute," said Tuan Zhang, the head of the PLA Song and Dance Ensemble. A celebrated composer, he also served as honorary president of the Musicians' Association, known for his prolific contributions to symphonies, ballets, and operas.
"'Chinese People' shouldn't just make the shortlist. My recommendation is to honor it with the Excellence Prize," he said.
Only five works were to be selected. Among them, only one could win the Excellence Prize.
In the second round of judging, "Chinese People" had been repeatedly criticized by some members for being "too light in tone," but Tuan Zhang made his support clear.
Debate within the judging panel became heated.
It wasn't surprising. Scandals involving some young idol singers had led older artists to cast a skeptical eye over the entire new generation.
Eventually, Division Chief Zhuo had to step in to put a stop to the argument.
"This tribute is for all Chinese people, regardless of region or age. In fact, we especially hope more youth will take part," said Zhuo. "As for Chu Zhi, I'm aware of his character and vocal talent. He is an outstanding singer. 'Chinese People' can be shortlisted. As for the Excellence Prize, we'll continue discussing."
Zhuo's impression of Chu Zhi came from two past events: the Hokkaido Song Festival and the St. Petersburg International Cultural Forum. That's why he was confident in calling him an "outstanding singer."
At that very moment, the singer in question was en route to the Ministry of Public Security, traveling directly from the capital airport to Dongcheng District on East Chang'an Avenue. Today, Chu Zhi was scheduled to film a new public awareness video for the police.
Normally, ambassador roles for fire safety and police image were rotated annually, but due to Chu Zhi's consistently positive public image and high popularity, he was invited back again this year.
The officer greeting him this time wasn't last year's familiar face, Officer Koizumi, but a young man of no more than twenty-five. After a brief introduction, Chu Zhi learned his name—Takeie Rai.
"Just to clarify," the officer said with a slightly sheepish smile, "Rai doesn't mean rascal—it means 'fortunately'."
"Oh? I didn't know that. I'll remember," Chu Zhi replied warmly. "Then your name, Takeie Rai, carries a wonderful meaning. 'A child born into the Takeie family by fortune'—there's a lot of love and care behind that. I think it's beautiful."
Takeie Rai blinked, taken aback.
He'd grown up being teased over his name, nicknamed "Takeie the Rascal," and had developed the habit of explaining its meaning whenever he introduced himself. But this was the first time someone actually praised the name for its depth.
"I really do like it," Chu Zhi added.
"My grandfather gave it to me… I like it too." Takeie Rai finally understood why his cousin always said Chu Zhi was unlike any other celebrity. That gentle warmth came through in even the smallest conversations.
That's the power of the acting beast: when someone goes out of their way to explain something, it usually means they deeply care about being understood. Recognizing that is part of the performance.
Over time, Chu Zhi had earned quite a few male fans as well. Evidence? Several young officers lined up to get his autograph. Well, it was possible a few of them were collecting for their girlfriends.
"I'm a fan. You're seriously handsome."
"No, no, you're the real lookers. The truly handsome ones serve the country—soldiers, police officers. I'm just a little handsome. You guys are the real deal."
His words came with such easy charm that everyone smiled. The officers found themselves enjoying the conversation.
Still, business had to come first. The filming location was out back on the training field.
[Crack down on telecom fraud, protect public assets.
Nationwide anti-scam campaign: don't believe, don't listen, don't transfer funds.]
[Always on guard, ever prepared, just to ensure your safety.]
[Surf the web legally and responsibly. Let's build a healthy online space together.]
The Ministry of Public Security had its own publicity department, and the resulting shots were clean, professional, and sharp. Filming took a little over an hour.
At noon, Chu Zhi stayed for a meal in the cafeteria.
Just as he was preparing to leave, Director Du Xiang from the News Department approached him.
"Would you consider writing a theme song for us?" Du Xiang asked. "Your song 'Lone Brave' has basically become the anthem of fire brigades across the country."
She explained they weren't asking for a formal anthem, but something more like an inspirational ballad—a hymn of courage.
Chu Zhi agreed to try, although he hadn't yet thought of the right tune.
Speaking of fire brigades, he was scheduled to film a fire safety PSA with the Fire Department the next day.
These were all unpaid charity projects, but Chu Zhi was committed. The more people understood fire safety, the safer firefighters would be. In the ideal world, both police and firefighters would be "idle."
There were still plenty of things waiting for him in the capital. Promotional posters for the China-Japan-Korea Joint Performance needed shooting. He'd be staying two or three more days, accompanied by only Xiao Zhuzi and Lao Qian. Wang Yuan had gone to Pengcheng to handle an issue with the merchandise for "When I Close My Eyes."
A call came in. It was Zhang Ning.
"You came to the capital without telling your big sister? Where are you staying? Get over here to my place. Your brother-in-law's an amazing cook. We'll make you a feast!"
Zhang Ning must have heard through the grapevine that Chu Zhi was in town.
Chu Zhi didn't try to offer excuses about not wanting to intrude. He simply explained, "I've got too many appointments while I'm here, so I picked a hotel nearby. But if I were just visiting for fun, of course I'd come see you."
"Busy, huh…" Zhang Ning, a star herself, understood perfectly. When a celebrity's schedule was packed, even meals became a luxury.
"When you have some free time, let me know. I'll make something special for you," she said. "Your brother-in-law really wants to thank you in person."
She was referring to the time Chu Zhi saved lives during the Otaru earthquake.
"Come on, Sis, don't make it sound so formal," Chu Zhi replied with a grin. "I'll definitely drop by. Just don't blame me if I eat too much."
After a few more words, they hung up. Zhang Ning had always looked out for the younger man she'd come to see as a brother. When Chu Zhi stood up to Adidas, she was one of the first celebrities to publicly support him.
Even after the call, Zhang Ning frowned with worry.
Her husband, Hong Hu, asked, "Still thinking about Xiao Chu?"
"Of course I am. Adidas is the top sportswear company in Germany. Backed by an enormous capital chain. After what happened in Asia because of Jiu, they're bound to want revenge."
"Not just took a loss," Hong Hu chuckled. "They were gutted. Asia's top three consumer markets—China, Japan, Korea—aren't buying. Their Q2 earnings report for 2021 is gonna be ugly."
"Even if they want revenge, they won't act now. Their hands are full just trying to recover the Asian market."
To capitalists, revenge comes second to profit.
"Don't worry. As long as Xiao Chu doesn't mess up himself, he's perfectly safe in Asia with his current influence," Hong Hu said.
That helped Zhang Ning feel a little more at ease.
By the time Chu Zhi wrapped up his business in the capital, the month was nearly over.
On the morning of May 29th, South Korea was cloaked in smog. The sky over Seoul was barely lit, the sun struggling to pierce the haze.
"What's going on? Why are all these people crowded in front of the store?"
Jang Haeseong, an employee at a record shop in Itaewon, munched on a sandwich as he walked to work around 7:30 AM.
He was scheduled for the morning shift today, but found over thirty people loitering at the storefront.
His heart sank. Though Yongsan District in Seoul was a wealthy area, theft still happened. He assumed there had been a robbery and rushed forward.
But the crowd blocked his way.
"Quit pushing! There's a line here!"
"Even if you're a fellow Apostle, queue up like everyone else!"
"No cutting! You want something? Go to the back!"
They'd surrounded the entrance in a U-shape but were claiming he was the one cutting. And what did they mean by Apostle?
"I work here," Jang Haeseong said. "Could everyone please make way?"
The moment he spoke, the crowd surged forward.
"You work here? Is the shop about to open?"
"I want ten copies of 'After the Clouds Clear'!"
"Queue! Queue! I was here first, store manager oppa, sell me five copies first!"
In the chaotic flurry, he finally understood. These people were fans. They were here to buy albums.
"We don't open until noon," he shouted hoarsely. "Please come back later!"
Most record stores in Korea open at noon, some at eleven. Jang had never imagined anyone would queue up this early—let alone for a release like this. Even top boy groups didn't draw crowds this big.
"Can't you open a little earlier?" someone asked.
"I'll report it to the owner, but the schedule isn't up to me," Jang replied.
As he unlocked the door, he could feel the heat of their eager eyes behind him. He was genuinely worried they might rush in.
He rolled up the steel shutter and began unlocking the glass door.
The moment it cracked open, he slipped inside and quickly locked it again from the inside.
Peering out through the glass, he was met by a sea of bright green eyes—Apostles, all of them.
He suddenly recalled a line from the Chosun Daily:
"Chu Zhi's fans are immature to the extreme, a blight on the Korean entertainment industry."
Whether or not that was true, one thing was clear—they were dedicated. Showing up five hours early? That was devotion.
"After the Clouds Clear?" he muttered, remembering the three boxes of newly arrived albums from last night.
The cover read: [Original Korean EP by Chu Zhi], using his film look from When I Close My Eyes .A line of small print read: Specially recommended by President Park of JYP.
He still had work to do—setting up the display, swapping out the wall posters. Only he had arrived early. The other staff wouldn't clock in until 11:30.