"Nice! Finally sealed the deal, damn it." Lao Qian sprang from the sofa, celebrating the call he'd received while grabbing a drink.
iQiyi had finally agreed. The contract was 120 million RMB plus a 4 million signing bonus, for 11 episodes and a thirty‑minute special.
His voice echoed through the office, drawing half the staff's attention.
"The Journey Among the Stars deal is set," Lao Qian announced. "Signing day is the day after tomorrow."
A 120 million RMB deal wasn't record-breaking in domestic entertainment, but it was nearly double what top idols usually get—proof of Lao Qian's negotiating power.
Staff offered congratulations. Even photographer Chen Shu praised him:
"Great job, Lao Qian. You earned us a windfall." Chen Shu cracked a smile. "I'm calling you Master Qian."
"Well done," Wang Yuan added.
Chu Zhi's revenue split was 90/10. The team's annual bonus pool was 5%, which might seem low—but since Chu Zhi made at least 500 million RMB yearly, that 5% came to 25 million for the team.
Chu Zhi could have offered 10%, but as a former business owner, he understood that rewards needed pacing over years—not all at once—or team morale would collapse. So he plans to increase by 1% each year. In five years he wants to dominate Asia, and then share overseas earnings.
Success always draws skeptics, and there's always someone ready to pour cold water.
Fei Ge spoke up: "I'm not surprised. The day after tomorrow is the final of I Am a Singer‑Songwriter. Chu Ge's performance of 'The Drunken Concubine Reimagined' will blow up again—maybe even with older viewers. So he's the main reason our stock is rising."
Everyone paused. Fei Ge had a point. Lao Qian quietly agreed but didn't let him bask too long.
No wonder Fei Ge and Chen Shu had strained relations—brains and sense of emotion were on opposite ends.
Back to internet buzz—the day after the fan festival, the fire didn't die down.
On Douyin:
"My neighbor went to the festival—she's in her twenties, super happy."
"A friend appeared on the livestream. He said the vibe was like a huge party."
"I'm also a Little Fruits, my friend won and I didn't. That's hardcore RNG fail."
Lots of 'insiders' were sharing videos, though few of the actual 300 attendees appeared.
Orange Home app hit over one million registrations—many just for livestream participation.
"Glory" and "You're Not Truly Happy" claimed first and second on new music charts. Musically, the latter was stronger, but "Glory" was already embraced as the festival anthem. On Karaoke apps, it entered the top ten, with hundreds of covers uploaded in a day.
To outsiders, he was simply releasing new songs—and a revamped version of "You're Not Truly Happy" following his festival performance.
"Is this singer related to Boss Huang?" Chu Zhi asked quietly of Niu Jie.
"Yes, I hear Boss Huang loves a 21-year-old trainee named Kang Meng. He's modeled himself after Chu Zhi in styling and presence," Niujie explained. She added that Huang intended to build Kang Meng up—not replicate Chu Zhi.
"Handsome guy," Chu Zhi said lightly.
"I've seen his videos—talented and creative," Sister Niu said. Having stayed close to Chu Zhi, she didn't find Kang Meng that striking—but she admitted Chu Zhi's talent set him far above.
"Xiao Meng was my signing decision," Boss Huang told reporters. "He has the storytelling voice of an older generation."
Chu Zhi had suspected Kang Meng's success might come from inside support. Now it made sense: company channels and resources, combined with his own effort—a win‑win.
As big brother at Sunlight Chuanhe, Chu Zhi helped guide juniors. Last month he brought Yun Rong onto the stage early—a reserved place was taken two months before, but Boss Huang called personally to override it. That was both pressure and influence.
"Kang Kang's got talent," Chu Zhi said on camera. "He'll do well on China Rap."
Born in 1997, Chu Zhi was two years older than Kang Meng (b. 1999), but spoke like a mentor. No one thought twice.
Self-media were ready to report that Chu Zhi had endorsed Kang Meng.
The fan meet also included sponsored red packets to media. Kang Meng had praises from both the boss and mainland elites—an impressive debut. But there was a risk—too much support might spoil him.
"Xiao Meng wants to be like Chu Zhi?" Boss Huang asked Kang Meng privately after the event.
"Take care of fans, and have quality work," Kang Meng answered. It sounded safe—after all, having Chu Zhi there as a model made it easy to be a smaller version.
"No, no," Huang interjected. "It starts with private life."
Chu Zhi outside of work had only music and study. No drama, no dating, no gaming.
"Seriously?" Kang Meng was taken aback.
"It's true. Chu Zhi is highly disciplined. Even his limited downtime is spent reading," Huang said. "That's why he has so many mommy fans, and why he writes great songs."
"Learn from that yourself," Huang advised.
"Uh…" Kang Meng blinked. Did this sound like a monk's life? No games, no sweet romance?
Dating beautiful women is supposed to be part of being a star—Kang Meng already had four exes.
"He should be."
He left wondering if choosing a monk's discipline over fame pleasures was worth it. But mortal minds couldn't grasp an Emperor Beast's quiet joy.