"Thank you, everyone, for your hard work today."
With Motari and Rin Ka's final bow, this week's recording of MUSIC STATION came to an end.
The cameramen and lighting crew started packing up their gear while the guests split off into small groups to chat.
"It's my first time seeing people actually faint in a live studio audience. What a sight." Gu Nanxi clicked her tongue. "How many passed out again? Five?"
"Seventeen," a backstage staff member corrected. "Seventeen audience members fainted."
A female voice suddenly joined in, making Gu Nanxi glance over. The speaker was Aimoto Raku, a well-known Japanese actress and voice actor who'd voiced many male leads beloved by Chinese anime fans. MUSIC STATION often invited crossover performers, so it wasn't strange to see her here.
"I'm sorry, Gu-san." Aimoto Raku quickly realized she'd spoken out of turn and bowed apologetically, her movement smooth and practiced.
There was a reason for that. Her stage name, Aimoto Raku (Aimon), literally meant "pickled fish." She'd once said she just wanted to drift through life like a salted fish, but her looks and voice acting talent were too exceptional. She became popular without trying, which earned her plenty of jealousy from her peers. After countless times being nitpicked and forced to apologize, bowing had become second nature.
"You speak Chinese, Aimoto-san?" Gu Nanxi raised an eyebrow. She'd never heard of that before.
"I love Chu-dono's songs, so I started learning Chinese a little," Aimoto Raku explained.
A little? Her pronunciation was more accurate than most university students majoring in Chinese studies.
"Another damn genius," Gu Nanxi thought. Then she asked, "That song, Come On, Sweet Death, made that many people faint?"
"Seventeen," Aimoto Raku said softly. "Chu-dono's voice always reaches the soul."
If you were a diehard Ragdoll fan, that song would wreck you. Some fans burst into tears, others fainted outright. Even just remembering it now, Aimoto Raku almost swooned.
"Yeah. That's one kind of talent no one can ever copy," Gu Nanxi murmured. She'd covered some of Chu Zhi's songs before, with perfect technique and deep emotion, but it just never matched the real thing. There was no logic to it, no reason—it just was.
The two chatted for a while, exchanged contacts, then went their separate ways.
"I should stop Little Fruits from watching this episode," Aimoto Raku muttered, then gave up immediately. Her best friend Little Fruits was a hardcore Ragdoll fan. If her idol had a show, she'd watch it no matter what.
She changed her plan instead—she'd watch it with her. She knew exactly how lethal Chu Zhi's Come On, Sweet Death was live. If Little Fruits fainted, at least she'd be there to catch her.
Gu Nanxi was heading out through the staff elevator when she ran into another group of people—big names, all of them. She started wondering how she should greet them, but before she could speak—
"Sister Gu, it's been a while. We're having dinner later, come join us," Chu Zhi said with a smile.
She was stunned. Then joy burst through her chest. She hadn't expected Jiu-yé himself to personally invite her. And looking around, the people with him—Flying Bull, Firebird, Hirokumo Ryōko, the head of J Agency, and TV Asahi's president Takayama—were all industry heavyweights. Even Aimoto Raku hadn't been invited.
Back when Chu Zhi appeared on I'm Really a Singer, he'd been hated by everyone, and Gu Nanxi had only kept up polite formality. Who could've imagined that the celebrity everyone once boycotted would one day become a global superstar—one of the rarest talents in China's entire music history?
"If I'd known he was gonna be this capable, I should've invested early," she thought. "That'd be like buying Moutai stock at thirty yuan a share in 2001."
They headed to Marunouchi 1-Chome in Chiyoda District.
Dinner was at Wadatokura, a famous Tokyo restaurant on the sixth floor of the Imperial Hotel, where you could see the Imperial Palace from the private room.
It was like the Palace Corner restaurant in Beijing's Forbidden City—same luxury, same flair.
The dishes included a cold appetizer platter, salmon with Suizenji seaweed flakes, and Tajima beef steak rice.
Chu Zhi's review was simple: "There's plenty of beef fat, and there's rice to fill up on. Five stars."
Dinner conversations in Japan were always lively, and tonight was no exception. The ones without any say, like Gu Nanxi, sat toward the end.
Even with so many Japanese bigshots present, Chu Zhi was seated near the main guest position. The host's seat went to Takayama, president of TV Asahi.
Their topics were lofty.
"In the cultural exchange between China and Japan, Mr. Chu holds a crucial position. I've nominated him twice for the Order of Culture."
"TV Asahi's got ratings goals this year. We're planning an Asia-wide program, and the writers are losing their minds, haha."
"Suicide rates have dropped three months in a row. The head of Tokyo's Emergency Department even mentioned Mr. Chu, saying his songs gave people strength."
"His single come.sweet.death, released under Yamaha Music, will definitely be remembered as part of their piano legacy."
Chu Zhi handled his sake like water, downing half a bottle without blinking. The others weren't nearly as composed.
Hirokumo Ryōko started singing one of her signature songs and even stepped up on the table at one point. Gu Nanxi didn't even flinch—Ryōko's drunken antics were infamous. She'd once told reporters, "I've spent my whole life clawing through this industry. Why should I hold back now?"
Takayama slung an arm around Chu Zhi's shoulders. "Chu-san, you should introduce us to some more talented Chinese singers. The new Reiwa-era artists just don't cut it."
"If you're looking for real talent… I think Ms. Gu Nanxi's a great pick," Chu Zhi said.
"Gu Nanxi?" Takayama blinked in confusion, then noticed everyone's glances and finally looked toward the end of the table. Oh, the Chinese singer who tagged along for dinner.
"You're right. Her performance today was solid. Good, good."
He immediately promised to arrange for her to appear on The Ultimate Home Makeover King to build her reputation, then on Dream Battle: I'm the Sports King to gain fans.
Those were two of Asahi's most popular variety shows. Gu Nanxi quickly stood and toasted him in gratitude. Her own agency, Huanyu Entertainment, would've killed for those opportunities. Yet tonight, one casual comment from Chu Zhi had done what months of negotiations couldn't.
It was unreal.
By the time dinner ended, Chu Zhi realized the Japanese weren't lightweights—they were pretending. They just liked using "drunkenness" as an excuse to act wild. Yamaha's vice president, for instance, was totally clear-headed when he came to discuss the single's release plans. Aside from the smell of alcohol, the man spoke perfectly rationally.
Gu Nanxi stayed behind too, waiting for a chance to thank him. Calling him "brother" didn't feel right since she was older, so after thinking it over, she said, "Jiu-yé, thank you for recommending me tonight."
"Sister Gu, you're too polite. I still remember being so nervous on I'm Really a Singer, and you comforted me back then," Chu Zhi said with a smile. "This was just me mentioning a name or two. You don't need to thank me."
"Wait… that happened?" Gu Nanxi racked her brain and came up empty. Back then, Chu Zhi was basically a walking PR disaster. She definitely hadn't been that kind.
Still, she smiled awkwardly and played along. Seeing his sincere expression, she figured she must've done it subconsciously out of host's instinct.
"He even remembers something that small… no wonder he made it big. What a good guy."
Since they weren't staying at the same hotel, Chu Zhi escorted her to a taxi before heading back.
Once Gu Nanxi got to her room, she literally jumped around in excitement. With Takayama's promise, her career in Japan was about to take off. She might even reinvent herself as a variety star.
"I wonder if Jiu-yé's done what he came to Japan for," she thought after calming down, a bit worried for him now that he'd just helped her.
Then she opened her phone—and froze.
Two tweets had already blown up online.
Hirokumo Ryōko:I've always admired Chinese culture and adore Mr. Chu Zhi. So, I dedicate my song "As Long As You Don't Change" to China, in celebration of the upcoming Shanghai World Expo.
Yamaha Music Communications Inc.:Congratulations to China's Shanghai World Expo! [Video of All-Star Celebration]
Both posts were timestamped three hours earlier—before dinner even began. Apparently, everything had already been settled by then. And Yamaha's celebration video featured some of their most famous artists.
"I thought Jiu-yé wouldn't be able to pull it off," Gu Nanxi whispered. "Looks like I've offended him."
Japanese netizens were dumbfounded.
One of them asked the question everyone was thinking: "Why are we celebrating China's World Expo?"
The replies were pure chaos.
The sarcastic crowd: "Because when your dad holds an event, isn't it only natural for the son to celebrate?"
If you've ever seen Japanese internet humor, you'd know—many otaku jokingly call China "Dad" when being ironic.
Conspiracy theorists chimed in: "This must be some Chinese diplomatic stunt. So shameless."
And then there were the confused ones: "Wait, so was it plagiarism or just a communication issue? If it's just a misunderstanding, why would they send a song as a gift?"
But most people pieced it together pretty quickly.
"Did everyone forget? Even if China's entertainment scene isn't what it used to be, they've still got Chu Zhi. Hirokumo Ryōko's a certified face-con. The saying goes, 'Men have Koguchi, women have Hirokumo.' Koguchi Yoshihiro's Chu Zhi's superfan, and Hirokumo's no different. So if Chu Zhi got involved, of course Hirokumo would change her stance. As for Yamaha, who knows—but I'm guessing it's related."
And just like that, global public opinion flipped in an instant.