A video meeting was in session. This was a core team meeting of the studio. Fei-ge, Qi Qiu, and Niu Jiangxue were in the Modu office, while Chu Zhi, Wang Yuan, and Old Qian were in Rangdong Town, Yuzhou Province, there for the filming of a commercial. After all, this town was known as the hometown of the Medicine Sage.
Emergencies left no room for delay, so they resorted to a video call.
"The sound's lagging on our end."
"If it's lagging, just use mobile data."
"But the office Wi-Fi's been acting up, even though we upgraded it just before the new year."
They spent several minutes tweaking the connection before the meeting could proceed normally.
Niu Jiangxue began, "China Film and Wang Anyi Studio have jointly invited us. The role is the male lead, Su Shiyi, in Shiyi Lang."
Shiyi Lang? Chu Zhi had auditioned for something called Shiyi Gongzi before. So they changed the name? Not that it mattered. The more surprising part was that the film hadn't started production yet?
"The offered fee is fifty million. The filming will take six months. Within that time, you're allowed no more than seven days off," Niu Jiangxue added.
For Chu Zhi, that fifty million wasn't exactly high. Overseas, in works like When I Close My Eyes and My Love From the Stars, he earned a share of the profits. But in China, very few actors got profit shares.
"Half a year... That's a long time," Qi Qiu said. "Six months with only seven days off? Brother Jiu would be losing billions in missed endorsements."
She wasn't exaggerating. With that kind of filming schedule, Chu Zhi wouldn't be able to take on any endorsements or live events. The financial hit would be enormous.
"There's definitely a loss, but you've miscalculated," said Fei-ge. "Sure, the crew will be busy, but that doesn't mean he can't take on any gigs. Considering Director Wang's reputation, I think this deal is worth it."
"Director Wang has won two Academy Awards for Best Director and also took Best Director at the Berlin Film Festival. He's hugely respected in the West," Wang Yuan added. "I also think it's a great opportunity."
Old Qian chimed in, "Still, six months is a long time. Jiu-yé's career is on the rise right now."
"To be fair, Director Wang required the second male lead to train in basic Peking opera for eight months before filming. But since Chu-ge already has an advantage in that area, he doesn't need it," Niu Jiangxue explained.
The decision now rested with Chu Zhi. To accept or not?
"Six months..." Chu Zhi fell into thought. He had been planning to break into the Western market next year. Having a strong screen presence could give him a major boost.
"I do want to work with Director Wang," Chu Zhi said. "Half a year of closed filming is pretty standard. Big-name directors prefer to shoot that way.
And Fei-ge is right. Even without taking days off, I can still handle a lot of things during that period. For example, for indoor shoots, we could bring over Grandpa Chen. Once filming ends for the day, I can still keep up with other work."
Since Chu Zhi had made up his mind, and the studio revolved entirely around him, no one objected.
"I'll talk to their team again," Niu Jiangxue said. "Maybe we can nudge the fee higher and iron out some details about joining the production."
"When does filming start?" Qi Qiu asked.
"February next year," said Niu Jiangxue.
"Just after the New Year holiday then," Qi Qiu nodded. "I'll be more cautious when negotiating endorsements for the first half of next year."
As mentioned earlier, a top-tier celebrity like Chu Zhi already had half of next year's schedule locked in. Making room for six months of filming would require major changes.
Things were going to get hectic again. You could tell just from the way everyone lowered their heads to handle other matters once Chu Zhi confirmed his decision. The meeting room fell silent.
"Jiu-yé's second film, and already working with such a big-name director. What's next, winning Best Actor?" Old Qian chuckled. "Just thinking about it gets me excited."
"Don't jinx it. Let's keep our expectations in check. As long as my acting satisfies the director and doesn't delay production, I'm happy," Chu Zhi replied. He wasn't aiming for awards. For now, he just wanted to boost his name recognition in the West.
After some casual chatting, the video meeting ended, and everyone returned to their tasks.
Although Rangdong Town had historical sites like Taizigang, Jinji Tomb, and Zhang Zhongjing's former residence, it wasn't a strong tourist destination.
There weren't any proper hotels in the town, so the clients arranged for Chu Zhi's team to stay in Dengzhou.
They were booked into Pengyi Hotel, one of the best in the city. The Ruihua Presidential Suite wasn't even rated with stars, yet cost over 800 a night. Despite that, it was no worse than a five-star, and Chu Zhi found it comfortable.
That night, Chu Zhi finished his usual reading and slept soundly.
As the so-called "culprit" behind the Chu Zhi Turmoil, he had the mental immunity of a dead pig and a miracle drug to boot. He slipped into dreamland easily.
But many other idol-tier celebrities were far from calm.
Anyone who had ever hosted a fan festival was now caught in the crossfire. Many of them harbored resentment toward the so-called Emperor Beast. What kind of lunatic turns a fan event into a death match?
Too bad there wasn't much they could do. Even if they had no personal contact with Chu Zhi, even if they crossed paths, they'd likely smile and try to latch onto him. After all, it was Chu Zhi.
"A bunch of idiotic mortals. Why do they insist on comparing me to an actual god?" Zhou Guowu muttered to himself. "Chu-ge is a self-sacrificing hero. I'm just a normal guy who likes money and pet lizards."
He wasn't remotely remorseful. In fact, some of the online backlash made him want to laugh.
Zhou Guowu kept scrolling on his phone, contentedly playing with his pet "Barbie Doll" lizard, which he took everywhere. Just to clarify, not the one from Japan—that one went missing during the earthquake. He'd since bought a new one.
Around 11:30 p.m., someone knocked. It was his "girlfriend" from Beijing. As a self-proclaimed playboy, Zhou Guowu had a girlfriend in nearly every major city.
Compared to the carefree Zhou Guowu, Lin Xia wasn't handling it well. Furious, he chewed out the planner and executive manager behind their latest stunt.
It had all been the execution manager's idea. Still, if Lin Feifei hadn't approved it, none of it would've happened. But now that it had blown up, he was blaming everyone but himself.
Only later that night did Lin Feifei calm down and reflect. He pulled out his phone and opened WeChat, scrolling to the contact marked "Xiao Dingdang." He wanted to chat.
But he never sent the message. He just sighed to himself.
"If I want to follow brother Jiu's path, I have to go all the way. Otherwise, not only will I get nothing in the end, I might crash and burn."
"Xiao Dingdang" was Lin Xia's nickname for Chu Zhi. Ever since they met on I Am Truly a Singer, Chu Zhi had been like a real-life Dingdang, constantly pulling out new tricks and ideas.
"If I'm not Chu Zhi, then Chu Zhi and I are two completely different people. Trying to imitate him is just too hard," Lin Xia mumbled.
Earlier, Chu Zhi had taken fans stargazing in the middle of the night. Lin Xia copied the idea and took his fans to watch the sea. That move gained him a lot of praise. But his imitation of the fan festival? Total disaster.
There were two sides to every story. To the celebrity victims of this backlash, Chu Zhi was the villain. But to young fangirls, he had forced the idol industry to stop bleeding them dry in plain sight.
Among a sea of mediocrity, the Emperor Beast was no sardine, but a shark dropped into the tank. One misstep, and the others could be eaten alive.
Countless second- and third-tier idol fans had defected, becoming Little Fruits.
Once you had a sense of purpose, time flew by. Chu Zhi, now recording a new album, felt this more than ever. Days vanished in the blink of an eye, and he had only finished one song so far.
On the variety front, he appeared in four more episodes of Back to the Countryside. His contract with Mango TV ended, so the later episodes felt more relaxed.
While they lacked the shock value of the first two, the Emperor Beast's presence guaranteed high interest. Click rates and live chat comments still ranked among the top shows of the year.
The show also solidified Chu Zhi's public image as a bookworm who loved history.
Any viewer of the program, fan or not, couldn't help but admire his discipline. Reading three hours a day, every single day.
By the end of October, Chu Zhi flew early to Russia for the Saint Petersburg International Cultural Forum. He was one of the key guests, invited by the association.
"Mr. Zhi, welcome back to Saint Petersburg," said Anton, a forum staff member. He was Russian, but his Mandarin had a heavy Lusheng accent.
Apparently, Lusheng dialect was the final destination of all languages. Once you had a friend from that region, their accent rubbed off, no matter where you were from.
Anton stood nearly 1.8 meters tall, bulky even without his heavy coat. He looked like a literal bear.
"Just call me Anton, Mr. Zhi. Your songs taste like wine," Anton said.
Taste like wine? Chu Zhi hadn't used his "Wine Immortal" persona in ages. He gave Anton a puzzled look.
"I like listening to good music while drinking vodka. If the music is bad, I can't swallow a drop," Anton gestured to his chin. "Your lullaby was wonderful. I was full—red sausage and vodka alike."
"Ah, so that's what he meant." Chu Zhi, fluent in Russian, recognized the chin gesture. It meant being full.
"My wife's a fan too," Anton added. "She was so jealous when she found out I was welcoming you."
"Let me guess," Chu Zhi thought. "He's going to ask for an autograph next."
But Anton changed the subject, recommending local cuisine.
Russian food often seemed rustic, but there were refined dishes too. The country had a history of Tsars, after all.
Russian imperial cuisine had its roots in the court. Empress Catherine even introduced French cuisine, elevating Russian food significantly.
Anton recommended a hidden gem that served Tsar-style feasts, tucked away on the bank of the Metninskaya Embankment. Without a local's guidance, you'd never find it.
"I'll be sure to try it," Chu Zhi said as the car pulled up to the hotel.
"Mr. Zhi, you can trust me. I've lived in Saint Petersburg for over ten years. My recommendations won't disappoint," Anton said.
He paused, then added, "Please rest well. The forum starts at nine tomorrow morning."
"Thanks for the ride, Mr. Anton," Chu Zhi said, pulling his suitcase into the Four Seasons Lion Palace Hotel. The doorman rushed to greet him.
Today, he needed to rest and recharge. As the main guest, Chu Zhi had to be at his best for the forum.
The event was hosted by officials from Russia's Ministry of Culture, joined by cultural representatives from around the world.
At the previous forum, only one Chinese director and one author had been invited as main guests. Even the globally-renowned opera master Li Weiwen hadn't made the cut.
To show his respect, Chu Zhi decided to perform Katyusha. They'd already seen him tackle Opera 2's high notes. Would it be too much to unleash a desperate anthem like Katyusha?