Truthfully, even without Sister Wang reminding him, Chu Zhi had already seen the excitement through the car window.
The signs fans held were impossible to miss.
[The sky cannot be without the sun, and the fruits cannot be without Chu Candy]
[Love the world, love Chu Zhi]
[We will be together, because of Chu]
The Emperor Beast could read both Chinese and English. The rest, Malay and Tamil, he could not understand.
Something felt off. Chu Zhi had emphasized repeatedly that fan support should never disrupt others. But this wasn't about disturbing one or two people anymore—the entire stretch of Bayfront Avenue was blocked. Even their van couldn't get into the hotel parking lot.
Just last night at Changi Airport, the welcome party had been massive. Even though posters filled every shop at Jewel Changi, the crowds had stayed manageable.
Five minutes later, Wang Yuan returned, having gathered some basic intel.
"They're all fans. Even those with cameras aren't reporters. Most are independent media accounts," she explained.
"This wasn't organized by our overseas Singapore fan station. It's because of Back to the Countryside airing last night that this happened."
So it was because of Back to the Countryside. Chu Zhi understood. The emotional reaction of fans protecting their idol had boiled over. Singapore was tiny, not even one percent the size of Shancheng. Even weather reports only bothered to say "rain across the nation" or "sunny everywhere."
Of course Singapore 's Little Fruits had come together.
"What do you want to do, Xiao Jiu?" Wang Yuan asked.
The logical response to such a situation would be to evacuate the celebrity. With over a thousand fans gathered, even a small stampede could end up on the front page under the crime or society section.
But Wang Yuan knew full well. Xiao Jiu would never just walk away.
And the Emperor Beast didn't intend to.
There were at least hundreds of guests checked into the Sands Hotel. Right now, things were getting out of hand, and it was affecting others' travel plans.
Think about it. If someone staying at the hotel had no idea who Chu Zhi was and just wanted to rest, what mood would they be in facing this chaos?
"Sister Wang, can we borrow a megaphone or something like it?" Chu Zhi asked.
"Absolutely." Wang Yuan had visited Singapore twice during her university years and had stayed at the Sands both times.
She left the vehicle again. The moment she opened the door, a tidal wave of noise rushed in. People talking over each other, car horns blaring, hotel security shouting in a desperate attempt to maintain order—it was pure chaos.
Another half hour passed. As the crowd swelled outside Bayfront Avenue, Wang Yuan finally got things set up: a wireless microphone and speakers placed at the hotel entrance.
Of course the Sands Hotel staff cooperated. This kind of disturbance was bad for business.
In the midst of the uproar, a familiar male voice rang out from the speakers—instantly recognized by the crowd of Little Fruits.
"Testing, testing. Can you hear me?"
It was Chu Zhi.
As soon as his voice came through, the overwhelming chaos began to die down. In just a matter of seconds, it was as if someone had turned the volume knob down. Most of the fans recognized their idol's voice immediately and began scanning the area.
But finding him by sound alone was difficult. The Emperor Beast stood on the edge of a raised flowerbed, not near the speaker system.
He chose that spot so more people could see him clearly.
And with so many "eyes" in the crowd, it only took two minutes before Chu Zhi's location was locked in.
Fans began moving toward him. Of course they wanted to get closer. That was normal.
The officers assigned to maintain order were sweating bullets.
With over a thousand people on site, a few dozen officers were like small boats adrift in a raging ocean. They had no way to hold the crowd back.
"Please don't push. Let's not crowd forward. If anything happens, this trip to Singapore will only end in sadness," Chu Zhi said gently.
And just like that, the surging wave of fans actually stopped.
The Emperor Beast wasn't acting on impulse. He had thought this through. He trusted himself, and more importantly, he trusted his fans.
Before he could say anything else, the crowd suddenly began singing in unison.
🎵"My world is beautiful because of you. My sky stays bright because of you. You bring me joy, you cry for me. You forgive me, so I can fly free"🎵
At first, the singing was scattered and messy. With over a thousand voices and fans of all backgrounds—Chinese, Malay, Indian—there were many accents.
It wasn't until the third or fourth line that Chu Zhi realized what they were singing. It was the song he had performed on Day Day Up: The Most Beautiful Sun.
🎵"Your words, your tears, your smile, your beauty. To me, they're more precious than the most beautiful rose. Holding dreams, flying forward. No fear, no retreat. You are the stronghold on my road to success"🎵
The fans singing were both male and female. The age range was wide too—some were just sixteen or seventeen, others in their thirties or forties.
A thousand faces, all different, yet all focused on one person. Their idol.
This was how they comforted Chu Zhi. They knew Jiu-yé never liked showing vulnerability, so they chose to show him how much he meant to them. How many stood behind him.
Because of Chu Zhi's existence, they felt their lives had gotten just a bit better. And the world too.
🎵"Give me wings, so I can soar. Give me strength, it's you who made me strong. I'm not afraid of pain, because you're by my side"🎵
A boy named Huang Guangshi was singing at the top of his lungs. He wasn't hitting any of the notes, but it didn't matter.
He was Chinese-Malay. Quiet and withdrawn. He didn't have many friends at school. Occasionally, he was bullied.
Sure, being quiet was something he could work on. But did that mean he deserved to be hurt?
He had been too scared to tell his parents or his teachers.
It was Chu Zhi who gave him courage. So the line "I'm not afraid of pain, because you're by my side" struck him deeply.
🎵"Your smile, your tears. You are the most beautiful sun on my path to my dreams. Your words, your tears, your smile, your beauty. To me, they're more precious than the most beautiful rose"🎵
A girl named Sui Jingya was Malay. She didn't speak much Chinese, so she had memorized the song by writing it out phonetically in English.
For example, the first two lines were written as: Water. surge. you. with. your. needs. highway. man...
There were so many others too—Chen Wenlong, Cai Meiping, Lin Xinfan, Li Jing...
To them, Chu Zhi was the sun lighting their way. And so they would always be there for him.
When the song ended, fans began shouting their promises in their own voices and languages.
"I'll always be here for brother Jiu."
"Jiu, you're my light. I could never turn my back on my own light."
"Little Fruits are sweet. Jiu-yé is the most beautiful."
"I wasn't around for what happened before, but from now on, I'll always be here."
"Little Fruits only become sweeter when they bask in lots of sunshine."
Chu Zhi had prepared a speech. It was on the tip of his tongue.
But now, he couldn't say a word.
He hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected them to sing that song.
Even the Emperor Beast was touched.
Wow. An ambush with no warning? Chu Zhi took a deep breath. His composure nearly cracked, but thankfully, he was a seasoned veteran.
"You're the most beautiful sun," said Chu Zhi, his voice steady. "And you're also the sweetest Little Fruits."
The fans shouted back with just as much emotion, calling out that brother Jiu was the best. Some clearly wanted to inch forward, get a little closer to their idol, but they restrained themselves.
Wang Yuan watched the scene unfold and mumbled under his breath, "Little Fruits are the best fans in the world, and Chu Zhi is the best idol."
"You've given me far too much," said Chu Zhi, "and I've done too little in return. The only thing I can do is work harder and create better art."
He added, "I'll try to put out two more albums. Maybe, just maybe, we can make a concert happen.
I'd love to sing 'The Brightest Sun' with all of you again. But this is a public place, and we shouldn't disturb the other tourists or hotel guests.
Let's head out slowly and in order, alright?" he asked gently.
Voices echoed back in reply: "Okay!" "No problem!" "We'll listen to brother Jiu!"
"Now listen to me," Chu Zhi raised his voice slightly. "Little Fruits near the Merlion fountain, form three lines."
Some fans couldn't understand Chinese, so others translated for them. In the astonished gaze of over a dozen uniformed officers, the massive crowd gradually dispersed, warm and united.
It was a relief. In the officers' eyes, this had been the most orderly fan gathering they'd ever witnessed. At other concerts, crowds had acted more like a scene from a zombie apocalypse.
Chu Zhi turned and bowed slightly. "I'm very sorry for the trouble we've caused to the hotel staff and the guests staying here," he said sincerely. "And I appreciate the efforts of the officers keeping order today."
This was the cardinal sin for any celebrity with a large fan base—never, ever, ever apologize on behalf of your fans. Diehard fans rarely believe they're wrong, so when their idol apologizes, it feels like betrayal.
Take a look at the difference between XZ and CXK. The latter refused to apologize under certain controversies, and his core fan base only grew more fiercely loyal.
But in fairness, celebrities do enjoy the benefits brought by their fans, so bearing some responsibility isn't unreasonable. The harsh stance against apologizing stems from how fragile fame is for traffic-driven idols. Without solid work to stand on, they're like loose sand—one gust of wind and they're gone.
But the Emperor Beast was different. Chu Zhi held the top spot in popularity across Huaxia, but in the public eye, he was now someone who made a living through his work.
"These fans really listen," said one officer. "Some of them had waited all morning, but when told to leave, they just left."
"Chinese idols are decent," said another. "No injuries, no mess."
"Chu Zhi's really popular in Singapore. On Apple Music, his songs are constantly in the top ten here."
Chatting casually about the crowd, the officers climbed into their Toyota patrol vehicle and drove away from Bayfront Avenue.
Back in his hotel room, Chu Zhi took a shower. Just as he stepped out, his phone rang. It was Niu Jiangxue.
"I've shortlisted a few dance instructors, all of them meet your criteria. I've sent their info to your WeChat," said Niu Jiangxue efficiently.
"Thanks," Chu Zhi replied. That was all they needed to say. They hung up.
Opening WeChat, his eyes landed on the pinned contact — Dabai.
Disciple of Big Cat:[Has brother Jiu been keeping a regular schedule lately?]
[Yes. All good. Pretty consistent, nothing wrong.] Chu Zhi replied.
He understood what Su Shangbai really meant. Asking about his routine was just a roundabout way of checking his emotional state.
Dabai hadn't called that morning, but this quiet form of concern still felt nice to the Emperor Beast.
Back to the dance instructors. Chu Zhi looked over the list Niu Jiangxue sent. He picked the one with the strongest credentials — multiple championships in group dance and choreography work for several top stars.
With that handled, he moved on to his next task.
Just two days ago, the Emperor Beast had agreed to a nominal position as a cultural exchange consultant with the Ministry of Culture and Tourism.
That morning, Yang Xi, the liaison assigned to work with him, sent over a new variety show proposal.
The new show was from Lychee TV, titled New Journey Logs. The name subtly referenced director Li Xin, who was leading the project.
Li Xin was a well-known director in the variety show world. He'd previously created hits in collaboration with Mango TV, and his production skills were solid. But the ratings for this new show were below five.
What had gone wrong?
"Why are they even sending this to me?" Chu Zhi hesitated.
[Six bold, unfiltered youth travel across the country, discovering the truest and simplest faces of China.]
That was the show's vague synopsis. After watching two or three episodes, Chu Zhi translated it into plain language: a show where celebrities pretend to experience real life.
And the key word was pretend.
Of the six cast members, at least four carried themselves like royalty—so smug it was unbearable.
The first task? Find an ordinary local and ask to share a meal.
But the celebrities didn't say, "I have to complete a challenge. I'm sorry to bother you, but could I share a meal with you?" No. Their attitude was more like, "I'm a celebrity. You're lucky I'm giving you the chance to feed me."
One auntie politely declined, saying, "There's no one home, I can't host."Celebrity Wang Feixiang's response? "Aren't you a person?"
Eventually, they found a family willing to take them in. A regular household of three. The young couple worked nonstop just to make ends meet and have a future.
What did nonstop mean?The father left home early and got off work at 9 PM. The mother worked night shifts, setting up her stall after 9 PM.
Despite all this, two celebrities barged in, demanded the child wake the mother from her nap, then insisted the father come home early—even though he wouldn't be back until 9.
Dinner included three pork chops. Zhou Yisun ate two. Even the mother, trying to stay polite, couldn't help saying they only had three. The producers tried to play it off as a joke in post-editing.
But was it funny?
"Do celebrities really have to act this superior now? I've been a boss in my past life and never acted like that," Chu Zhi muttered in disbelief. He forced himself through a few more episodes. He had thought the freeloading was the main problem—but no. The whole show was flawed.
"This show is just rotten," he muttered. It wasn't illegal or offensive enough to get banned by authorities, but something about it stank.
"Are they trying to get me on this show?"Chu Zhi didn't like guessing games, especially not with official departments. But gritting his teeth, he sat through the last two episodes. Four in total had aired.
In the pre-2000s era, it wasn't uncommon to see massive turnouts when an Asian superstar visited a foreign country. Entertainment options were limited back then, so celebrities had an unmatched glow.
But in the digital age, idols lost their shine. No longer dream-sellers, they became disposable products. These frenzies became rare.
Still, self-media footage of the crowd had been edited and uploaded to YouTube, sparking heated discussions.
[Curious Big Cat]:"Whoa? That's more coordinated than our school's morning exercises."
[Poor Traveler]:"Morning exercises? Other countries do broadcast gymnastics like China?"
[LalalaYP6]:"Of course. Singapore uses the second routine. But we're getting off-topic. I'm not into idol culture, but it's clear—this person is a beacon to his fans."
[Moon Over Zhouqiao]: "So touching."
Straits Times reported: [According to Forbes China, Chu Zhi ranked first in the 2020 "Most Influential Chinese Celebrities" list. In a report by Lianhe Zaobao earlier this year, his popularity in Singapore far exceeded that of local stars like Cai Dian, Zheng Qingliang, and Wu Weilian.
His albums 25117 Possibilities (2019) and Chu Ci: Ode to the Orange Tree (2020) captured the hearts of Singaporean listeners, overshadowing the local music scene.
Chu Zhi's first-ever visit to Singapore sparked two massive crowd gatherings—one at Changi Airport where shops plastered his posters for the arrival, and one at the Marina Bay Sands, where even traffic stood still for the sing-along. Yet the fans dispersed in perfect order, showcasing his surreal level of popularity.]