Within a week, the Korean internet launched a poll titled "The celebrity we most wish would use social media less." In truth, it was just a polite way of saying, Which female celebrity do you hate the most?
The poll was initiated by Naver's search portal. Over three hundred thousand netizens voted, and Song Minghee took the top spot by an overwhelming margin.
Previously, the top three spots were usually occupied by girl group members. Dating rumors with boy group idols, or simply being too famous, were often enough to invite a barrage of criticism.
Actresses rarely appeared on the list. In Korea's entertainment hierarchy, actors were considered at the top of the food chain—though in front of the chaebols, they were all still ants.
"First, Song Minghee was rumored with Lee Seungshin, and now she's trying to use our professor's popularity?"
"Don't you understand what 'forced perspective filming' means, Gong Gil?"
"I have never disliked Song Minghee this much before."
"Aish, this woman is unbearable."
In the past, fans—regardless of gender—called Chu Zhi the Great Demon King. But after the airing of My Love From the Stars, a large portion of his Korean female fans began calling him Professor.
And don't think only Korean fans were intense. Japan's idol-chasing culture was no less extreme. Promotional posters for dramas featuring both the male and female leads were vandalized, with the heroine's face scribbled over in marker or slashed with a blade.
Some even got arrested for property damage.
"Jenami Eiko, 32, from Niwa District, Aichi Prefecture, was arrested for damaging public property." — Nagoya News
In an interview after her arrest, Minami Eiko declared:
"You people don't understand Ragdoll-san's place in my heart. All you do is waste taxpayers' money—you don't understand anything else."
For Chu Zhi, it was his first time making the social news section—like a young bride stepping into her wedding sedan for the first time.
Yahoo's forums buzzed with discussion.
[Worshipping an idol to the point of losing your mind? This is just a TV drama. Why can't they tell fiction from reality? If a Chinese celebrity really had a girlfriend in real life, would they commit suicide?]
[Honestly… maybe.]
[Minami Eiko might be my sister's classmate. If it's the same person, she went through a rough time—tricked by three different men. I think Chu Zhi-san helped her get back on her feet, so this reaction is normal.]
[What's so good about My Love From the Stars? I watched the first episode and dropped it. Is that why I'm still single?]
It went on and on.
Back when Hong Kong's entertainment industry was at its peak, action superstar Jackie Chan was hugely popular in Japan too. Whenever a movie included an intimate scene, Japanese female fans were displeased. If rumors of a romance spread, there were even cases of fans committing suicide by lying on train tracks.
So damaging public property over a drama was hardly surprising.
At present, Chu Zhi's popularity in Asia had even surpassed Jackie Chan's at his peak—helped, of course, by his handsome looks as the Emperor Beast.
In his home base, things were a little calmer. The Little Fruits fan club, under repeated "concern" from Chu Zhi, were easier to manage.
Generally, his fans were well-behaved, but with such a large base, even a small handful of extreme fans could not be ignored.
"To wear the crown of the traffic king, you must first bear its weight."
Nan Kui, the lead singer of Scarlet Youth, said it with a faint trace of schadenfreude. In his mind, he was thinking, "Tsk tsk, let's see how he gets out of this one."
Just over two months ago, the "Chu Zhi Incident" had exposed the fan festival as a money-grabbing scheme, causing a small wave of fans to leave. Nan Kui had never liked him since.
"Doesn't make money himself, but won't let others make money either?"
"It's not backlash from traffic," Zhou Yiyu said. "It's just that Jiu-yé's popularity is too high, and his personal charm is too great. Just with the album Chu Ci alone, no one can deny he's the real deal."
Nan Kui froze. Only then did he remember that the newcomer's signature work was written by Chu Zhi himself.
"I'm just worried about brother Jiu. Those comments online give me chills. If it's handled poorly, it'll be a headache," Nan Kui quickly softened his tone.
It wasn't Zhou Yiyu—a mere rookie—he feared, but the possibility of his words reaching Chu Zhi's ears. Forget Scarlet Youth—even their parent company couldn't afford to offend him.
Zhou Yiyu continued, "He has strong personal charm and a gentle personality. For many fans, he's a pillar of support. That's why this situation happened."
"Everyone in and out of the industry knows what kind of person brother Jiu is," Nan Kui replied with false sincerity. Inside, he scoffed—"pillar of support? More like milking brainless fans for all they're worth."
If the album's success, the hard-studying student fans, and the Orange Festival had shown Chu Zhi's unrivaled pulling power, then this incident was the ultimate proof of his jaw-dropping popularity across Asia.
To be frank, the whole scandal had been amplified thanks to Adidas.
The "Chu Zhi Boycott" movement had hurt their sales in the Asian market. Now that they had the chance to kick him while he was down, of course they seized it.
Their next step was to steer the narrative further—claim that Chu Zhi was causing social unrest in Asia, and that the region should be on alert.
Other celebrities might have struggled to respond, but the Emperor Beast was no stranger to large-scale drama. By the next afternoon, his Instagram, Twitter, and Weibo all posted the same message:
[I am not a very qualified actor, but fortunately, the crew members took good care of me. As for my acting, I often seek guidance from Teacher Liao.
I don't have outstanding skills, only a dedicated attitude toward filming.
I mean no disrespect to stunt doubles—be it for crying scenes, literary performances, or otherwise—but isn't it misleading to have someone else "stand in" for a role?
Drama is above all else. I've seen seniors jump into icy waters in winter, break their legs falling off horses, and never boast about it. They've eaten foul-smelling dog meat in summer, yet still had to act as if it were delicious.
Not using a stand-in for kiss scenes is my personal choice. In a romance drama, such moments are important. As actors, our duty is to give viewers a fully immersive experience.
Fans wouldn't want me to be a half-hearted actor, right? I believe my fans wouldn't, because you are excellent—and the idols you like must be excellent too.]
The moment the post went up, his studio pushed it hard. Within minutes, it topped trending lists in multiple Asian countries. Even Netflix joined in.
Why would Netflix help Chu Zhi? That's a stupid question. Cutting off someone's revenue is like killing their parents—Netflix still needed him to make money.
Gong Gil was touched. Back when they filmed, the thought of "no stand-in kisses" hadn't even crossed his mind. Who would've guessed a drama could send all of Asia into a frenzy?
In his twenty-plus years in the industry, he'd seen plenty of obsessed fans, but never a situation like this.
For the past two days, his own Instagram had been flooded by fans, but Chu Zhi took the blame upon himself, moving Gong Gil deeply.
The tide of public opinion turned—
"Jiu-yé is the best. He's nothing like other traffic stars. Actually, no! Comparing Jiu-yé to traffic stars is an insult to him. Heh, even if I was a little upset, this is who Jiu-yé is." — Chinese Little Fruits
"That woman isn't worthy of the Professor. Song Minghee has been exposed for diva behavior, while the Professor is only focused on giving the audience a better experience." — Korean student
"Ragdoll will one day become a god of acting because he has the heart of an apprentice, even though he's already ridiculously talented." — Japanese fans
"I don't even like My Love From the Stars, but waking up to these headlines scared me. I thought it was the end of the world. Then I saw the Count's first on-screen kiss. We may not like it, but we can't stop the Count from wanting to do his best." — Russian fan
Korean fans shifted from calling him the Great Demon King to the Professor. Japanese fans, called him their Ragdoll. Russian diehards called him the Count, thanks to persistent vampire rumors, which they decided to turn into a flattering nickname.
Yes, it was cringe. But so what? Every country's fans had their own quirks. At its core, idol-chasing was just one big, shared act of youthful, second-hand embarrassment—filled with passion, emotion, and maybe even belief.
Many who had been waiting to see the show crumble were dumbfounded.
"I wish we had fans this obedient," Nan Kui said, eyes full of envy.
"That's because he has a good-looking face," the group's main dancer replied.
Nan Kui nodded. "I heard he was forcefully placed on the Spring Festival Gala stage." Scarlet Youth had also been invited this year.
"Strong backing, then," Nan Kui muttered. He still felt that Chu Zhi's statement carried some hidden meaning.
Their conversation perfectly illustrated one truth—people only see what they want to see.
Adidas, poised to strike again, was stunned. That huge scandal… and he resolved it this easily?
"Unite the majority, guide the minority, and hold the fans' belief firmly in your hands. Young people should read more of Mao's Selected Works."
Seeing the internet's tone shift, Chu Zhi smiled.
The key was to remember—the issue was never about whether the kiss scene used forced perspective. The real issue was this:
[Something fans loved as a symbol of true romance was tainted, and they felt betrayed.]
The more you explained, the worse it got—just like reasoning with an upset girlfriend.
So Chu Zhi simply made it clear he hadn't betrayed them. That was enough.
"Tomorrow's my first rehearsal at the Spring Festival Gala venue. Better be well-prepared," Chu Zhi told himself. Which meant… an early night. Two-thirty in the morning would do.
Amid the Asia-wide uproar, two brands that had recently signed him—Shinjieyun and Mistine—were overjoyed, nearly flipping through the air in excitement.
The good news: Chu Zhi's popularity kept soaring, with positive ripple effects in the stock market.
The bad news: Mistine had only signed him for one quarter, and the deal was almost up. Shinjieyun was better—six months.
Halfway through the drama's run, it had become nothing short of a "cultural phenomenon" in Asia.
TIME magazine's Asia edition even featured a still of Professor Baek on the cover—not for an interview, but as part of a special discussion with industry insiders:
Why has "My Love From the Stars" reached such heights?