In the past, Chu Zhi's looks and talent had always stood out so much that even someone as "envious" as Zhou Dakong had trouble hiding it. But now, even Zhou Dakong felt a wave of regret. Maybe he shouldn't have aimed that celebratory ribbon cannon at Chu Zhi earlier.
If brilliance and good looks had to be earned through such pain, Zhou Dakong would rather not have either. It wasn't that he was particularly filial or noble. He just couldn't help thinking, "What's the point of making all this money? There's no one left to share it with…"
Suddenly, a jolt like electricity surged through him. His limbs tingled, his brain buzzed.
"Crap. Crap. The flood is coming."
Only now did Zhou Dakong realize that his earlier words—"My grandpa's been enjoying retirement, really living the life"—had hit like a steel rod straight through the heart.
"Is this the end of my acting career?" His thoughts spiraled. He'd heard the rumors. They said the number of Little Fruits outnumbered fan girls in entire fandoms. If they turned on him, he could be blacklisted in an instant.
Just as he opened his mouth to salvage the moment, a familiar male voice cut through the awkward air.
Chu Zhi said calmly, "Thank you, Teacher Li, Teacher Zhang, and Dakong, for your comforting words. I never wanted too much media attention on my family, so I've never talked about it publicly before."
His response gently clarified Zhou Dakong's comment as a well-meaning misunderstanding. Most fans didn't know the truth, so it was only natural Zhou Dakong didn't either.
Zhou Dakong felt a boulder drop from his chest. He exhaled in relief.
Zhang Xiaodong and Li Cheng, both actors who made their name through their craft, usually didn't care what the fandom said. But they still didn't want their words twisted or misunderstood. Their gazes turned to Chu Zhi at the same time.
None of them had expected that when pain was laid bare in front of the cameras, Chu Zhi's first reaction would be to explain things for someone else.
"The kid who cries gets the candy. But this kind of forced calm gets nothing," Li Cheng thought to himself.
Putting himself in Chu Zhi's shoes, he knew he'd never cry—men cared too much about pride. But Zhang Xiaodong could tell one thing clearly: if it had been him, he wouldn't have stayed half as composed as Chu Zhi.
Teacher Kun Yun held tissues in his hand, prepared to offer them to the person most affected. But unexpectedly, it was Tan Lu who cried the hardest. Right behind her was Chef Lan, quietly weeping beside her. Unlike the others, he didn't let his tears fall freely. The moment he felt one sliding down his cheek, he wiped it away fiercely. So from the outside, all people saw were his reddened eyes.
"Partly because I didn't want people to know I lost both my mom and dad," Chu Zhi said, "but more than that, I hoped my fans would focus on the positive things, the happy things."
He turned to hug his little fan, offering her comfort.
Only share joy, not sorrow.
The phrase popped into everyone's mind at the same time.
When other celebrities said things like this, even if Kun Yun nodded outwardly, inwardly he'd scoff. But Chu Zhi had backed it up with actions.
Back when he was framed, if he had revealed his family situation, he wouldn't have been forced into such a corner.
That simple hug from an idol made Tan Lu sob harder. Before, she was crying out of sympathy. But now there was guilt, too. The one who had lost the most was Chu Zhi himself, and yet he was the one comforting her. That guilt deepened her sorrow.
But—wait.
"Why does brother Jiu smell so good? What cologne is that?" Tan Lu's thoughts shifted fast. One second she was weeping, the next she was blushing.
Seeing she'd finally stopped crying, Chu Zhi gently let go.
"I have a song," Tan Lu said, mustering her courage. "I want to sing it for brother Jiu. Is that alright?"
"Of course. I'm looking forward to it," Chu Zhi replied.
"It's rare for our Xiao Meiter to take the initiative to sing," Zhou Dakong remarked.
"What are you going to sing? 'Little Flying Girl'?" Kun Yun guessed, mentioning Tan Lu's best-known breakout track.
"I want to sing From Now On, It'll Get Better." Tan Lu had written and composed the song herself. Even among her own releases, it wasn't particularly famous. The comment section on Penguin Music hadn't even broken 999+, but its lyrics carried heartfelt blessings.
Guests often performed at Mushroom House, so guitars, pianos, and violins were always on standby.
For comedic flair, Zhou Dakong grabbed a half-empty drink bottle and held it to Tan Lu like a mock microphone.
🎵 We must believe that the future will be better, it surely will. Because everything we've gone through deserves a smoother path… boohoo… 🎵
Tan Lu didn't make it halfway through the song before she choked up again. Saying things like "it'll be better" was easy. But would it really get better for Chu Zhi?
She'd already been heartbroken earlier, and now, singing her own lyrics pushed her past the edge.
She thought about how she had no parents or grandparents left. She thought about how Jiu-yé had no one either. Her tears wouldn't stop.
Some girls just don't like to cry. Others, once they start, can't stop—like a broken faucet.
Tan Lu was definitely the latter.
"Don't cry, Xiao Mei." Zhou Dakong tried to comfort her, but it was useless.
Chu Zhi took the drink bottle and held it like a mic, continuing where Tan Lu left off with a different song.
🎵 If I—no, I mean if I wanted to hold your hand, take you far away... 🎵🎵 If I—or wait, no, I really do want to take you flying. 🎵He looked at Tan Lu and kept singing.🎵 Don't cry. There's always a road ahead. Happiness might be just around the corner. 🎵🎵 I'm in your heart. I'm by your side. However you want it to be, that's how it will be. 🎵
Everyone understood what Chu Zhi was doing—he was comforting her through song.
And it worked. The faucet turned off.
Hearing her idol sing I'm by your side just for her, the strength that gave her… words couldn't describe it.
"Thank you, Jiu-yé. I understand now. That song wasn't just for me. It was for all the Little Fruits," Tan Lu said. In that moment, she was more certain than ever—this was someone worth chasing.
There would be a road ahead. There might even be happiness waiting at the end.
"Technically, I've listened to all of Jiu-yé's songs," Zhou Dakong said. "So how come I've never heard this one? Is it a new track?"
"I heard Xiao Mei's song and improvised," Chu Zhi replied.
The song he sang came from the compilation Mixed Track Bundle, titled However You Want It to Be, That's How It'll Be. Oddly, the system had categorized it as a "miscellaneous track," even though it was actually a lead single by the band Comes.
Li Cheng clicked his tongue in awe. To turn words into lyrics on the spot—was raw talent always this unrestrained?
"We have to get Producer Chu to write a theme song someday," he said.
The night at Mushroom House faded into stillness, wrapped in lingering melodies. The guests quietly returned to their rooms.
The sleeping arrangements had shifted: Chu Zhi shared a room with Zhou Dakong, Kun Yun roomed with Zhang Xiaodong, Lan Wuyi with Li Cheng, and Min Jeongbae shared with Tan Lu.
The moon hung low. Stars were sparse. The sky bled into the quiet silhouette of Manyuan Village, making the whole place feel suspended in the heavens.
In many hearts, the same thing hung overhead: unspoken sorrow. A heaviness no one could shake.
No one was likely to sleep well tonight. Director Luo Xunyuan could feel it too. The entire production crew owed Chu Zhi a debt they couldn't repay.
From his hidden control room, he had the closest thing to a god's-eye view. And from that vantage point, the calmest person inside Mushroom House was, ironically, the one who had lost the most.
"Old Zhan's got a real eye," Luo Xunyuan muttered in praise.
Old Zhan had grasped what took other staff several episodes to realize: Keep the camera on Chu Zhi—no matter what.
Ever since Chu Zhi returned to Mushroom House, the lens had stayed on him.
"This artist has endured suffering beyond what most could bear, and yet still loves the world…"Luo Xunyuan frowned. Was that really it? Watching closely, he realized—it wasn't that Chu Zhi loved the world. He just loved his fans.
Is that it? He kept analyzing. Taking a deep breath, Luo Xunyuan knew this episode was going to be even more explosive than the last. If the show didn't need a full week of footage, he'd already be rushing this three-day stretch into post-production.
Five rooms. At least ten hearts, all in conflict.
Chu Zhi had always said on Journey Among the Stars, Come to me if there's anything. But someone like the team leader—someone like Min Jeongbae—always kept things buried.
His expression now was complicated.
Part of him felt they were the same kind of person. But another part thought Chu Zhi had it too hard. He needed someone he could really talk to.
So, at this moment, Min Jeongbae's face looked just like the sixth sticker in your meme folder: conflicted and unreadable.
Back in her room, Tan Lu kept replaying the short lyrics her idol had sung. She knew the song was for all Little Fruits. But at the moment Chu Zhi had sung it, it had felt like he was singing only for her.
"If only he'd finished the whole song," she whispered.
Now that we've covered those two single rooms, let's check in with the three doubles.
"Brother Jiu, should we turn in early tonight?" Zhou Dakong asked. With all the emotional upheaval, he figured some rest would do them good.
"Habits are hard to build. They take time," Chu Zhi replied. "Even reading every day was a hard habit to form. So unless there's a real reason, we shouldn't stop."
Was this not an accident? Even Zhou Dakong felt helpless.
He'd practically been shot through the heart today — and that still didn't count as unexpected? Then what did?! Did he need to lose a limb to qualify? Brother, can we please stop pushing ourselves this hard?
Seeing Chu Zhi slip effortlessly back into study mode, Zhou Dakong was struck with admiration. So much so that he decided it was time to pass that motivation along.
Zhou Dakong occasionally read web novels. He thought to himself, "If only those authors were as dedicated as brother Jiu — instead of constantly asking for time off. They can't even skip a birthday without disappearing from updates. Totally unprofessional!"
The largest room in the Mushroom House had been given to Chef Lan and Li Cheng.
"The last time we shared a room was, what, more than ten years ago?" Li Cheng mused.
"It's been a long time," Lan Wuyi replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "Back in the day, we were the famous trio of Cotton Alley. Now, everything's changed."
Huh? Li Cheng was confused. Weren't we the 'Three Delinquents of Cotton Alley'? Since when did we become 'Three Talents'? Of course, he kept the thought to himself. He had to maintain some dignity in front of the camera.
"Back then, we were just like today's pop idols. But now… time really is a butcher's knife. We've lost our edge," Lan Wuyi continued.
"Whoa whoa whoa, speak for yourself," Li Cheng interrupted quickly. He'd maintained his physique and was still a highly sought-after mature man.
Looking at Li Cheng, then back at himself, Lan Wuyi suddenly felt the full sting of that 'butcher's knife'. He hurried to clarify.
"It's just that your face doesn't show age easily. Everyone gets older — it's just a matter of when. Even someone as handsome as Chu Zhi can't escape time's erosion."
The conversation had been light and full of laughter, but as soon as Chu Zhi's name came up, the atmosphere shifted. The cheerful mood evaporated.
Zhang Xiaodong called his wife every day, so there wasn't much to say about the room he shared with Kun Yun.
That night, apart from a few nightmares and some teeth grinding, the house was mostly silent.
The next morning, the skies over Xishuangbanna were exceptionally clear. And clear skies usually meant one thing: a day perfect for hard work.
The Emperor Beast was up early. Kun Yun, Lan Wuyi, and the others watched Chu Zhi closely, but his demeanor hadn't changed at all. It was as if nothing had happened the day before.
"Xiao Jiu, how'd you sleep last night?" Kun Yun asked softly.
"Pretty normal. Nothing out of the ordinary," Zhou Dakong answered instead. "Just read a bit, same as usual. Felt fine."
Feeling fine — that was the biggest problem.
Kun Yun sighed silently. "Chu Zhi… this kid…"
The busy day kicked off right after breakfast. Chef Lan handed out the day's tasks. There were four in total, so they split into pairs.
Retrieve lotus roots, go fishing, sell pineapples harvested yesterday at the market, and sharpen kitchen knives.
Chef Lan and Kun Yun typically stayed behind to oversee things, only leaving when absolutely necessary. So, the knife-sharpening fell to them. There were four kitchen knives in total.
"I've been cooking for years, but this is my first time actually sharpening knives," Lan Wuyi said, though he clearly felt up to the challenge.
Selling pineapples at the market was assigned to Min Jeongbae and Xiao Mei.
The former was socially fearless, unlikely to get awkward while selling. The latter, Tan Lu, was introverted. Their contrasting personalities made for an interesting pair.
Li Cheng and Zhang Xiaodong were sent to the fields to collect lotus roots — tough work. That left fishing to Chu Zhi and Zhou Dakong.
And when it came to fishing, Chu Zhi was the real deal.
In his past life, the three most common settings for business deals were golf courses, riverbanks, and antique shops.
"You came."
"You shouldn't have."
"But I still did."
"This rod? Four and a half meters, carbon fiber body, gourd-style grip — the Han Ding Ji King."
"Mine? Thin Hard Peak, Canglong Ji!"
"Today, either you win or I lose."
"Please, after you."
Chu Zhi and Zhou Dakong staged an overly dramatic showdown, trading lines like they were in a wuxia film. Their challenge? Who could catch more fish.
In terms of technique — from bait preparation to rod handling — Chu Zhi was clearly the expert. But…
His luck was awful.
Zhou Dakong caught three fish in no time. Chu Zhi didn't even get a nibble.
No matter how well you plan, fate has its own ideas. What should've been an easy win turned into a humiliating loss for Chu Zhi. Damn it!
Afterward, the Emperor Beast consoled himself in silence.
"I used all my luck on prize draws. It's fine. Totally fine."
The remaining days on Back to the Simple Life passed peacefully for Chu Zhi. He didn't leave Yunnan until day seven.
The next time he'd see Kun Yun and the others would be in about half a month. Each season of the show had twelve episodes — and Chu Zhi had appeared in five of them, meaning he'd be absent from the next seven.
Once filming ended, it took Chu Zhi about five days to return to his drama production team and wrap up his remaining scenes.
After everything was finished, he invited the entire cast and crew out for barbecue.
"Now that's an Asian superstar. Look how generous he is."
"Those idols back home with legs thinner than my arms? Totally hopeless. No star quality at all."
"Back in the early 2000s, he was Asia's first true superstar. What, you think that was a lie? Sure, he's not South Korean, but he loves our culture."
"Exactly. How many foreign stars speak Korean that fluently?"
People whispered as they ate, thoroughly enjoying themselves. Some had initially been resentful that the entire production had revolved around one actor. But their complaints were soon silenced — and soothed — by the dinner and goodwill.
And honestly, calling it a small favor wasn't fair. A casual all-you-can-eat barbecue meal like that was something most office workers in South Korea wouldn't dare splurge on.
After all, Seoul wasn't nicknamed "Little Magic City" for nothing — magical prices, outrageously high spending.
OhmyNews Breaking Report: [Chu Zhi, who played Professor Baek in My Love from the Stars, has wrapped up filming! The drama is entering its final stages!]
In South Korea's fast-paced entertainment industry, even wrapping up a role became a chance for promotion. Whenever a big-name actor completed filming, the production team would seize the moment to remind audiences of the show.
Of course, not every actor's wrap-up made it into OhmyNews. As a "people's media" outlet, they only covered stories the public genuinely cared about.
Having wrapped, Chu Zhi boarded a flight out of Seoul the next morning.
===
"你要如何,我们就如何" (Nǐ yào rúhé, wǒmen jiù rúhé)Translation: "However You Want It to Be, That's How It'll Be"Performed by: Comes Band (康姆士乐队)