Another day, Chu Zhi arrived at the "Big Pants" building. Many female employees from CCTV came up to him asking for autographs. His rising fame was unmistakable.
It was true after all: film and television drew in fans far more dramatically than songs ever could.
"Teacher Chu, please wait a moment. Director Li is watching the fifth full rehearsal," said the staff member assigned to receive him, leading him to wait outside Studio One.
Aside from the split-venue arrangements, the rest of the Spring Festival Gala was recorded here in Studio One. Generally speaking, the gala went through five full rehearsals, with preparations starting almost half a year in advance. Being added in at this stage completely disrupted the rehearsal schedule.
Any director in this position would be unhappy. Chu Zhi had already prepared himself mentally — in his eyes, his participation was essentially a "political task," something forcefully inserted.
"Teacher Chu, would you like tea or a drink?" the staffer asked respectfully.
"Just a cup of warm water, thank you," said Chu Zhi.
"Of course, of course." The staffer quickly hurried off to get it, thinking to himself: Wow, Jiu-yé is so down-to-earth.
Sure, most artists who came to CCTV treated him politely, but Chu Zhi's politeness felt different — more genuine. With his level of fame, that extra warmth left an impression.
The chief director of this year's Spring Festival Gala was Li Yong. It was an ordinary name, the kind you might hear often, but the man himself was far from ordinary.
Li Yong had won the Starlight Award, the China Rainbow Award, and the EBU Grand Prize multiple times.
He had created the program "Global Chinese Music Chart" and was now fifty-five years old, serving as a senior editor at CCTV as well as the director of its variety channel.
This was his fourth time serving as chief director of the Spring Festival Gala, his experience making him a seasoned veteran.
About twenty minutes later, Li Yong came hurrying out.
"Sorry to have kept Teacher Chu waiting. My assistant told me you've been here over half an hour. I didn't expect you to arrive early," he said.
"Spring Festival Gala preparations are busy, and as the chief director you have a lot on your plate. I had nothing else to do today, so I came early to make things easier," Chu Zhi replied. It was unexpected for him — the director was surprisingly courteous.
"I'm very happy that Teacher Chu could join this year's gala," said Li Yong. Of course, he didn't believe the "nothing else to do" comment. Anyone could guess that a top-tier celebrity like Chu Zhi would be packed with commitments as New Year's Eve approached.
"My management team told me you were hoping I could sing either Chinese People or Far Away?" Chu Zhi asked, getting straight to business.
Li Yong was dressed entirely in black — black straight-leg pants, a black T-shirt, and a black jacket. Clothing often reflected personality, and Li Yong's style matched his neat, no-nonsense demeanor.
"Actually, we're looking for either a red themed song or a song with a Chinese style. It doesn't necessarily have to be those two," Li Yong explained, breaking down the request. "From my perspective, I'd love for Teacher Chu to debut a new song that meets the requirements. I know it's a tough ask."
The chief director's job was, first and foremost, to meet political requirements — presenting unity among the Chinese people. This year also happened to be the centennial of the Party's founding, something the gala needed to showcase.
Only after that came audience satisfaction and ratings. The reason Li Yong didn't resent being told to "insert" a star was because it depended on who was inserted. Countless precedents had proven that Chu Zhi was a ratings and trending-topic magnet. He was more than welcome.
If Chu Zhi debuted a new song at the gala, it could draw in many young viewers.
Seeing Chu Zhi deep in thought, Li Yong added, "I'm not trying to make things hard for you. I've done this four times, and every time I say it'll be the last. But when the higher-ups assign the task, I can't refuse.
The real pressure comes from the audience. The upper levels, I know how to deal with. But I also want the gala to be well-received. I believe a new song from you would be a highlight.
If it's not too much trouble, I'd owe you a big favor. But if it is, then let's forget it."
As director of CCTV's variety channel, Li Yong had a good chance of being promoted to deputy station chief within five years. In industry terms, that made him a major figure. His favor was worth a lot.
And for Chu Zhi, this was all gain and no loss. Yet he didn't agree immediately. His brows drew together as he thought for a long time.
"A Chinese-style song or a red song of good quality… that won't be easy," he finally said. "I'm willing to help you, Director Li, but I can't guarantee I can write one.
I'll do my best, but in the meantime, let's treat Chinese People as the backup option," Chu Zhi suggested.
Helping someone worked best when they understood exactly how hard the help was to give, and how much effort went into it.
Li Yong thanked him, fully aware that there was less than a month left before New Year's Eve on February 11.
Chinese People and Far Away were both high-quality works. Any new song would need to match them in quality to be worth performing. Even with his limited musical knowledge, Li Yong knew that was a tall order.
For the rehearsal of Chinese People, since Chu Zhi had been added late, he couldn't be slotted into the middle — that would break the point of the joint rehearsal.
Joint rehearsals were meant to run the entire program as a complete show.
Given that, his only options were to perform first or second-to-last. The final slot was always reserved for a group song like Tonight We Reunite, similar to Unforgettable Tonight, which closed every gala.
If he went first, Little Fruits might leave after watching him, so second-to-last was the obvious choice.
"That's Chu Zhi, the super-popular star," someone in the audience murmured.
"Not just 'super-popular lately.' He's been at the top for a long time."
"Hahaha, Han Xiaomei, are you a Chu Zhi fan?"
"Of course. We're from Beijing Dance Academy. My classmates are all Little Fruits… that's our Fandom name of brother Jiu."
Down in the audience, some artists were watching intently, others were curious, and a few were eager to make friends.
The speakers were the famed sketch comedian Guan Dou and his friend's granddaughter, Han Yu, who had been chosen as a backup dancer — though that was certainly thanks to her grandfather's influence.
"He sings really well," Guan Dou said with a nod. "I know this young man. A fine young man. He even brought honor to the country abroad."
He was referring to the Three Nations Performance incident, which had made older audiences aware of Chu Zhi.
"Right? Brother Jiu is amazing," Han Yu said happily, more pleased than if the praise had been for herself.
"Grandpa Guan, look over there. Those women holding up their phones — they're all brother Jiu's fans," Han Yu said.
Following her gaze, they saw more than a dozen female performers in the audience holding up phones, eyes bright with admiration. Han Yu could tell right away — they were fellow fans.
"It's normal for an outstanding young man to have many admirers," Guan Dou said.
"How come I never saw brother Jiu in the earlier rehearsals?" Han Yu muttered to herself.
Chu Zhi was already a "big thigh" in the industry, so aside from genuine fans, many artists also wanted to cozy up to him. Everyone invited to the Spring Festival Gala had some talent or fame, but this was Chu Zhi. If you could get him to perform a song with you, it was pure profit.
After three run-throughs of Chinese People, Chu Zhi was surrounded — some wanted autographs, others wanted to exchange contact information.
It was rare for an artist to cause such a stir among other performers, but Chu Zhi spent half an hour socializing before finally leaving Studio One.
Back home after a busy day, Chu Zhi was still deep in thought.
He had seven spots left in his custom album. Should he choose the Chinese-style Blue and White Porcelain, or the red song My Motherland and I?
"If I pull out those two, would it be overkill?" he wondered. Fireworks Easily Cold and Vast Land would also work.
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CCTV Headquarters ("Big Pants" Building): Nickname for China Central Television's headquarters in Beijing, due to its unique architecture.
In a Chinese cultural context, a "red-themed song" (红色歌曲) usually means a song tied to the history, ideals, or propaganda of the Chinese Communist Party.
These songs are called "red" because red is the symbolic color of communism, revolution, and the Party itself. They often have themes such as: Praising the Communist Party or national leaders; Expressing patriotism and loyalty to the country; Celebrating revolutionary history and heroes; Promoting socialist values and unity
In modern media or fiction, when someone says a song is "red-themed," it usually means the piece either directly comes from that revolutionary music tradition or carries a similar patriotic or propaganda tone. It can also be used more loosely to mean any performance that fits a government-approved patriotic atmosphere.
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"中国人" (Zhōngguó Rén — Chinese People), original artist: 刘德华 (Andy Lau)
"千里之外" (Qiān Lǐ Zhī Wài — Far Away), original artist: 周杰伦 (Jay Chou) & 费玉清 (Fei Yu-ching)
"青花瓷" (Qīng Huā Cí — Blue and White Porcelain), original artist: 周杰伦 (Jay Chou)
"我和我的祖国" (Wǒ Hé Wǒ De Zǔguó — My Motherland and I), original artist: 李谷一 (Li Guyi)
"烟花易冷" (Yānhuā Yì Lěng — Fireworks Easily Cold), original artist: 周杰伦 (Jay Chou)
"万疆" (Wàn Jiāng — Vast Land), original artist: 李玉刚 (Li Yugang)
"今宵团聚" (Jīnxiāo Tuánjù — Tonight We Reunite), a Spring Festival Gala group song, title meaning "Reunion Tonight"
"难忘今宵" (Nánwàng Jīnxiāo — Unforgettable Tonight), original artist: 李谷一 (Li Guyi)