Chu Zhi's voice had become a source of strength for countless Little Fruits. It wasn't just the technique or the emotional buff, it was also his life experience.
According to the primacy effect, the human brain reacts most strongly to the very first piece of information it receives, tricking the body into feeling it more deeply. To put it simply, when the audience knows Chu Zhi went through such miserable experiences, they feel like his singing carries extraordinary power.
That was where the "Emperor Beast" performance made a huge difference.
"To become the emotional anchor and pillar in the hearts of Little Fruits, I'm truly honored. I'm also grateful I wasn't eliminated from the entertainment industry. Eight years later, I'm still releasing albums.
I once said you're my starry sky, so I brought a 'home' to share with you. Here are two mysterious codes, SKA42531 and MPC116431."
That was Emperor Beast logic. Do seven parts of the work, but let people see ten, and make them feel twelve.
The short video lasted just over two minutes.
Those two codes immediately caught people's attention. Everyone knew how broad Little Fruits' fanbase was, so among them were astronomy enthusiasts who instantly figured it out.
MPC stood for Minor Planet Center. MPC116431 was the official designation given by the International Astronomical Union, while SKA42531 was a temporary ID, SKA marking that it had been discovered by the Jodrell Bank Observatory in Manchester, UK.
Less than five minutes after the video dropped, Little Fruits had already dug up the details.
On July 22, 2024, in Bulletin No. 175987, the Minor Planet Center formally approved the permanent naming of asteroid 116431 as Little Fruits Star.
Enthusiastic fans even pulled detailed data from the IAU—
[The orbit of asteroid 116431 was officially confirmed on December 7, 2018. It lies between Mars and Jupiter in an elliptical orbit. Perihelion distance is 1.9221663 AU, the semi-major axis is 2.4313811 AU, eccentricity 0.2325285...]
And so on. They skipped the long string of numbers about minimum orbital intersections with Earth, Uranus, and Mars, as well as right ascension, declination, orbital period, eccentricity, etc.
But Little Fruits weren't done. They made connections right away.
Count of Monte Cristo 1980: [The cover of the last album Besieged on All Sides was filled with a starry sky, and the brightest star in it was our Little Fruits Star!][Image][Video]
Not everyone's phone could play the video, so people described what it showed: a Little Fruits fan belting out a single lyric.
🎵 "Whenever I'm lost in the night, brightest star in the sky, please guide me forward!" 🎵
The singing was full of raw emotion, no technique whatsoever. That fan even went off-key, but the feelings were real.
And that's what moved people.
That's exactly what moved them.
Tears, without question.
"Little Fruits Star! I grew up fostered with relatives, thought I'd become a money-making robot with no feelings, but one line from Jiu about giving us a home completely broke my defenses. I cried my eyes out."
"Hahaha I'm so happy! Our very own global Little Fruits planet. Astronomy newbie here, when can we see it with our own eyes?"
"With an apparent magnitude of about +17.0, you'll need a telescope. Just to explain, apparent magnitude measures brightness. The smaller the number, the brighter the star. The sun is -26.74, so anything negative is super bright."
"I'm digging out my albums. I didn't even realize there was a surprise hidden like this. I'm gonna buy more copies."
"The starry sky is full of twinkling lights, and now one of them is our home. Ahhh this is so romantic!"
Before long, tons of Little Fruits were singing The Brightest Star in the Night Sky at home. They couldn't help it.
Their moods that day were like riding a rollercoaster. They felt awful because there was no concert, then suddenly things turned around with a huge surprise. Their hearts were racing.
Even Lin Feifei, who kept a special eye on Chu Zhi, found it unbelievable. Before he became a top star, Chu was in practice rooms creating vine IDs and star cluster IDs. After he made it big, he dragged fans on midnight climbs to see the Milky Way. Now that he'd shifted gears, he went as far as buying naming rights to an asteroid.
How could anyone keep up with that? Lin Feifei was exhausted just trying.
Shooting dramas every day was exhausting too. To be precise, acting seriously was exhausting. More than once he thought about slacking off like other young idols and just cashing in on easy rom-coms.
But if Chu Zhi was still grinding, how could he just stop? Lin Xia immediately called his manager Brother Xian to discuss. At the very least, they had to purchase naming rights for a minor planet to do something for his fans.
Brother Xian hung up, lit a cigarette, and stayed silent for a long while. His mind churned over who he could ask about this. His thoughts settled on a friend who was an astronomy buff.
"Xia's vision is way sharper than mine," Brother Xian muttered.
Years had blurred away, but one memory stayed vivid. Back when Chu Zhi was being torn apart online, he went on I Really Am a Singer. Lin Xia had felt Chu Zhi would rise again, but Brother Xian dismissed it, saying, "Even if the sky falls, it's impossible." Looking back now, that judgment was laughable.
Maybe because it was laughable, it stuck in his memory. People always remember their most awkward, shameful moments.
"Follow him. Just follow him. Stick with him and you'll get fed." Brother Xian dialed his astronomy friend, asking about buying naming rights.
Meanwhile, fans of other celebrities could only watch enviously. Only Little Fruits were celebrating nonstop.
But that harmony wasn't going to last. The time was almost 8 o'clock.
Ticket platforms like Piao Niu and Damai went live. Little Fruits were ready for battle, having prepped everything.
Preparation meant this: because concert ticketing cracked down hard on scalpers, each ID and phone number could only buy one ticket. Refunds were allowed, but no resales. So fans had to make sure their platform accounts were real-name verified and bound to their phones, and their internet stable.
Most important of all, don't use fingerprint or face recognition. Those payments lag. Pure hand speed was the fastest.
19:59:55.
19:59:56.
19:59:57.
Time ticked down.
20:00:01.
Countless people held their breath, but by 20:00:02 the payment buttons had gone gray. The page flashed "Sold Out." Every price tier, from stands to floor, was gone.
And not just for one show. Tickets for all three stops—Shanghai, Shenzhen, and Guangzhou—were gone.
The internet instantly erupted in wails.
"Do you know why 85,000 tickets for the first concert vanished on Piao Niu and Damai in one second? Because they eat wontons every morning. Wontons make your fingers fast. (sincere dog head)"
"Thanks for telling me. Otherwise, I'd still be clueless."
"Bullshit. I love wontons too, why didn't I get a ticket?"
"Are they animals? My 01 app showed data error, then at 03 all tickets were gone. That's tens of thousands of tickets!"
And then.
A mathematically gifted fan, screen name Sugar-Eating Ace, who was at least grad school level, posted a thread that got 290,000 likes.
Sugar-Eating Ace: [Tens of thousands my ass. Shanghai Stadium seats 85,000. Shenzhen Bao'an Stadium 70,000. Guangzhou Olympic Center 70,000. That's 225,000 seats total. Don't tell me all that vanished in a second. The system must be broken!]
Exactly. Fans realized they'd been grabbing tickets for three stops at once. No way they were gone that fast.
Mass complaints flooded Piao Niu, Damai, and other platforms.
To put it bluntly, give Li Yunlong 200,000 men and he could conquer all of Jinxi North. How could 225,000 tickets just vanish?
With so many complaints, the main platforms began investigations.
Even Aiguo Entertainment launched a review. Wang Yuan believed in Chu Zhi's strength. To her, not just 200,000, even 300,000 tickets vanishing instantly was plausible. But they had to check. If there really was a problem, it'd be a disaster.
The company's data department cross-verified with Damai, Yongle, Maoyan, Piao Niu, and Motianlun. All five confirmed their numbers were normal. Every account that bought a ticket was a verified real-name account bound to a phone number.
"Director Wang, do we need to release a clarification?" asked staffer Xiao Wu.
"What exactly would we be clarifying?" Wang Yuan shot back.
To outsiders, the unsmiling Wang Yuan was the Ice Queen of upper management. Her question left Xiao Wu flustered and stammering.
"Clarify that there wasn't a system error, that the tickets really are sold out?"
Xiao Wu nodded like mad. With so many fans worried, it felt necessary. After all, he remembered the company motto: Nothing involving fans is a small matter.
"If it's something our company should clarify, we'll never delay. But if it's not our place, we won't say a word," Wang Yuan said. "Little Fruits complained to the platforms. The platforms will investigate and respond.
If we step in now, something simple becomes complicated."
"I didn't think it through." Xiao Wu admitted fault.
Wang Yuan nodded and went back to her files. She had piles of lawsuits against counterfeit merch and pirated goods to handle.
A little later, she noticed Xiao Wu still standing there.
"What else is it?" she asked.
"I just wanted to thank you for helping me when I joined the company. Do you have time tonight? I'd like to buy you dinner."
"Dinner with me?" Wang Yuan's gaze pierced him, like she could see straight through.
With her blue-light glasses, elite aura, and queenly presence, Xiao Wu didn't dare meet her eyes.
"Um…" Xiao Wu instantly regretted saying that, but it was too late to take it back. Standing there in silence, he felt like he was being roasted alive.
"Where?" Wang Yuan asked. If it hadn't been for her during the interview, Xiao Wu probably wouldn't have even gotten hired.
"Rhino's Home. The boss said you like steak, Director Wang, so I booked a table there," Xiao Wu explained.
She frowned. Rhino's Home was a ridiculously expensive steakhouse, the average cost per person was over thirty-seven hundred. That wasn't much for her, but for Xiao Wu's salary, it was outrageous.
This kind of thank-you gift went way past his means. Should she refuse outright? Wang Yuan hesitated.
Then she suddenly thought of brother Jiu. "I've been feeling a little overheated lately, don't really want beef. If it's alright, let's go for something lighter. How about coconut chicken?"
"No problem, I know a really good place. I'll book it right away," Xiao Wu said quickly, then excused himself so she could keep working.
"Spending too much time around brother Jiu really does rub off on you," Wang Yuan muttered. He always managed to reject people without making it awkward.
Everyone at Aiguo Entertainment was buried in concert prep. For Chu Zhi, this show meant stepping back into the public eye.
Meanwhile, the internet was still in chaos over the tickets. Well-known critic Zuo Yang Feixing posted: [What if it's not actually a system problem? Let me say this upfront, I've got trash hands and didn't get a ticket either, but it reminded me of something. Last year Scarlet Youth's 60,000-seat concert sold out in seconds. Chu Zhi's got over 200,000 seats and those went in seconds too. Weird? Not really.]
That one comment woke everyone up. Nobody could refute it.
"Holy shit, makes sense."
"Seats are about four times Scarlet Youth's. Isn't Jiu-yé's popularity more than four times theirs?"
"Why are you even comparing that tofu block Scarlet Youth to Jiu-yé?"
"Yeah, I thought 200,000 seats gone in a second was impossible, but now it feels weird if they didn't sell out instantly."
"So… no tickets left for real?"
The uproar died down fast.
Most of the Little Fruits realized the issue wasn't the platforms, it was their own speed or connection.
Scarlet Youth, though, caught a stray bullet.
Scarlet Youth: For the record, I didn't provoke any of you!
Damai.com posted an official statement: [Regarding the September 25th "With Chu" concert tickets for Shanghai, Shenzhen, and Guangzhou. Tickets showed "out of stock" within one second. We randomly sampled thousands of buyers for phone verification. Every purchase was made by the account holder themselves, all accounts were verified with real names.]
Compared to that, Maoyan's announcement was blunt: "Sold out, fans did it." Later, Yongle, Piao Niu, and Mo Tianlun Ticketing all followed up with similar notices.
That didn't stop Little Fruits from spinning nonsense over tickets.
"What's so great about Chu Zhi's concert? He's injured, his performance'll definitely suffer. Plus, parking at those stadiums is terrible. If anyone regrets buying tickets, hit me up."
"Tickets for brother Jiu's concert can't be transferred, but honestly, everyone should just refund. Spending so much money to see a show isn't worth it."
"Yeah, don't throw away your money. You can listen to Chu Zhi's songs for free on music apps, even the lossless versions. Why waste your cash?"
Those shameless Little Fruits were telling people online to refund while frantically refreshing pages themselves, hoping for returned tickets.
Too bad it was useless. Anyone fast enough to grab tickets in that bloodbath didn't buy on impulse. They were "locked and loaded," "well-prepared," "one-shot killers." They weren't refunding a damn thing.
As for the Emperor Beast, he was grinding hard, loading up on spicy food and carbs every day, sometimes downing drinks like water if he was feeling good. He cherished his life though. After asking the system if his body had fully healed and confirming it had, he could relax.
Grinding achievements was fun, but keeping his health mattered more. He didn't need to burn health for personality coins anymore. After pushing himself, he hit [Hangover *55], earning 7 coins. His balance now sat at 63.
At the same time, achievements like Smoke King, Ruthless Butcher, and I Love Carbs all leveled up too. Only downtime gave him the chance to push them.
[Didn't the host always want to try a ten-pull? Why not do it now?] the system popped up.
"Hmm, is there a pity system?" Chu Zhi asked.
[No pity system, but a ten-pull has a very high chance of giving a special prize.]
"Very high still means maybe not. If the odds don't actually go up, why bother? Besides, pulling ten at once floods me with junk. I might overlook something good. The pace I'm pulling at now is perfect."
"But since you brought it up, system bro, I'll do it once." Chu Zhi rubbed his hands together, went to the bathroom, and washed up with Tiara hand soap to pick up some good vibes.
"Alright, let's see the prize pool."
[Tap Dance Mastery]
[Curio: Soft, Fluffy Ice]
[Curio: Musician's Dream Elixir]
[Gift Pack: 'Missing You Is a Sickness']
[Album: 'The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan']
[Special Prize: Bob Dylan's Musical Genius]
The curios always got him excited, and this pool was no different. Fluffy ice was something he'd eaten before, but as a curio, it had to be more than a snack.
The Soft, Fluffy Ice made your body super flexible after eating it, even more than a yogi with decades of practice.
"Huh? Weird… not sure what I'd use that for, but I've got a feeling it's useful."
The Musician's Dream Elixir was even stranger. Its effect? Fall asleep and snore rhythmically. The description said: [Even a musician's snores can echo beautifully.]
"That's insane, I kinda want it," Chu Zhi muttered.
Tap Dance Mastery wasn't anything new. He'd seen Latin and Jazz Dance skills in the pool before but never pulled them. Maybe this time…
'Missing You Is a Sickness' was Zhang Zhenyue's signature track. A classic.
The last two prizes, The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan and the special prize, both came from Dylan. The album was his second release, more famous online in China for its cover than its songs. The cover showed Dylan and his girlfriend Suze walking arm in arm down Fourth Street. Nothing special about the shot itself, but the album's fame made people overanalyze it.
Its main tracks, A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall and Blowin' in the Wind, were legendary in the US. Especially Blowin' in the Wind, considered one of the country's greatest folk songs, maybe even the greatest, and one of the most famous anti-war songs in the world.
"Bob Dylan's musical genius really deserves to be called a special prize," Chu Zhi whispered. Dylan was the only singer in the world to ever win a Nobel Prize in Literature. Sure, that prize always had a political slant, but still, America had no shortage of music legends. Choosing Dylan said a lot.
"Alright, time to open this blind box."