On the night of the 23rd, under a sky full of stars, Chu Zhi flew from Shanghai to Changsha ahead of schedule—the first time he had left his neighborhood since the cyberbullying storm began.
He checked into a hotel and slept soundly, without dreams.
Well, actually, Chu Zhi did have nightmares—not bad enough to wake him in a cold sweat, but unsettling enough to leave him uneasy upon waking. It showed that despite his calm and calculated planning since transmigrating, his nerves were still wound tight. He was just good at hiding it.
The next morning, the sky was edged with gold, beautiful but ignored by everyone below—too busy surviving or struggling. Chu Zhi was firmly in the former camp.
To avoid unnecessary trouble, he wore a baseball cap pulled low over his face as he left the hotel and headed to Golden Eagle Film & TV Cultural City.
The person assigned to receive him was Wei Tongzi, a 25-year-old Mango TV host. She had short, efficient hair and wore a semi-formal hibiscus-colored blazer with light-colored slacks rolled up at the ankles—a touch of professional charm.
"Hello, Teacher Chu! I'm Wei Tongzi, your music partner for the show. You can call me Tongtong." She introduced herself while discreetly sizing up the disgraced celebrity in front of her.
"Hello, Tongtong. I'm Chu Zhi."
The I Am a Singer "music partner" system was designed to act as a rhythm keeper for the contestants. Since the show invited either veteran artists or A-list stars—some of whom might be too reserved for variety show dynamics—a host was assigned to keep things lively. These partners were all Mango TV's in-house hosts, using the opportunity to boost their own visibility.
Wei Tongzi had initially been resentful about being assigned to Chu Zhi. She had once been a fan of his looks, but after the scandal broke, she'd stumbled upon posts like:
"People actually like Chu Zhi? Let me tell you what I know—he slept his way up, got plastic surgery abroad, and was passed around by old men. How do people not know this?"
She didn't know if it was true, but when everyone said it, she figured there had to be some truth. She'd felt disgusted with herself for ever liking him.
But now, face-to-face, she was struck by one thought:
"He looks even better in person than in his edited photos. How is this even possible with plastic surgery?"
In the entertainment industry, everyone knew that celebrities' online photos were heavily retouched, making reality a downgrade. But Chu Zhi was the opposite.
"It's so hot out. Thanks for coming all the way to meet me." Chu Zhi pulled a tissue from his bag and handed it to her.
Without an assistant or manager, he had to prepare everything himself—even carrying foundation. His skin was naturally flawless (enough to make women jealous), but after days of spicy food and alcohol, he wasn't taking chances.
Wei Tongzi, a self-professed "face connoisseur," took the tissue unconsciously, dabbing at the sweat on her forehead.
"Damn, this bastard's smile is lethal. It's like he was designed in a lab to match my preferences."
Her resistance was crumbling—-1, -1, -1…
With looks like his, her previous "fan-turned-hater" mentality softened.
"Well, he's just a one-round elimination anyway. Might as well enjoy the view while it lasts."
She cleared her throat. "No problem! I just had some Chunsheng Organic Milk before coming out."
"Oh? Does organic milk help with fatigue?" Chu Zhi teased.
"Ah—sorry, I've been reciting ad scripts too much lately." She laughed, more at ease now. "Is this your first time in Changsha, Teacher Chu?"
"I've been a few times, but only for work. Never had the chance to explore."
"You have to try the local food sometime!" she said enthusiastically.
"I'll make sure to."
"First, we'll meet the producer, then head to the stage for rehearsal. Does that work for you?"
"Lead the way." Chu Zhi smiled—picture-perfect, like a well-behaved cat meme.
Wei Tongzi, still clutching the crumpled tissue in her hand, didn't even notice as she guided him inside.
The building was full of TV station staff, long accustomed to celebrities coming and going. They first met Wang Ke, the show's producer—a stern 47-year-old currently locked in negotiations with sponsors, leaving no time for small talk.
Next was the I Am a Singer set—Studio 3, capable of seating 800 audience members. The stage was outfitted with top-tier equipment: cold fireworks, digital lighting rigs, top-notch audio processors. Mango TV spared no expense for their flagship music competition.
Onstage, Chu Zhi met the band and the show's music director, Liang Pingbo. After greetings, he laid out his arrangement ideas for "The Wind Blows Through the Wheat."
Arrangement and composition were two different things. The latter was the melody—the skeleton of the song. The former was the instrumentation—the flesh and blood.
Chu Zhi's proposed arrangement was… unexpected.
Fifteen minutes later, after his explanation, the room fell silent. The band members exchanged uneasy glances.
Liang Pingbo was the first to speak. "It's… simple enough for us to execute. But this classical arrangement—piano, harp, violin, cello quintet? It feels like something from the last century. It won't be competitive."
"I know classical isn't the usual choice for competitions," Chu Zhi said calmly. "But I believe in this song. I want to share it with the audience as it deserves."
Liang Pingbo hesitated but ultimately nodded. "If you're set on it, we'll make it work."
Wei Tongzi, who had been too busy staring at Chu Zhi's face to follow the discussion, jumped in. "That's why our show is the best! A dedicated music director and artists who care about their craft—sponsored by Chunsheng Organic Milk!"
Liang Pingbo chuckled. Wei Tongzi's habit of name-dropping sponsors had become an inside joke at the station. The mood lightened as they fine-tuned the details.
"I think an Irish harp would suit this section better," Chu Zhi suggested.
(Unlike standard harps, Irish harps were smaller, pedal-less, with a lighter tone.)
"And for the chorus, swap the clarinet for a cor anglais."
"Let's run it again, please."
This was Chu Zhi's first real performance since transmigrating. Mistakes happened, but the original Chu Zhi's stage instincts—honed from dozens of concerts in his short career—carried him through.
Facing an empty auditorium still made his pulse quicken. The only solution was repetition. The advantage of arriving early? No other artists waiting to rehearse. Just the band's patience—and Liang Pingbo's—being tested.
True to her word, Wei Tongzi took him to a hole-in-the-wall eatery—Yihua Home Cuisine, tucked inside a residential complex on Liuzheng Street. Sandwiched between a hardware store and a nail salon, the restaurant was accessed via a dim stairwell with handrails polished smooth by time, rust creeping at the edges.
Inside, the decor was nostalgic—yellow window frames, white tiled walls. Whether it had a business license was questionable, but the food was fantastic. Chu Zhi especially loved the stir-fried frog—a fiery Hunan dish that seared his tongue. (Bonus: It counted toward his [Heartless Spicy Butcher] challenge.)
"Teacher Chu, do you like it?" Wei Tongzi asked eagerly.
"It's amazing. Just missing some Chunsheng Organic Milk," he teased.
"Gotta promote the sponsors!" She grinned, shoveling more food onto his plate. "Eat up! When in Changsha, you have to leave with a happy stomach."
During downtime, Wei Tongzi sneakily refollowed Chu Zhi on a burner account. His follower count had dropped from 11.54 million to 8.29 million—but the real damage was in the comments. The vitriol was vicious. Personal attacks, family insults—nothing was off-limits.
What looked like a small drop was actually massive. Most celebrity Weibo accounts were inflated with bots. Having even 1% real engagement was considered high. The original Chu Zhi had been a true top-tier star—with millions of real fans actively supporting him.
A dark thought flickered through Wei Tongzi's mind: "If he hadn't been canceled… I'd never have gotten to eat with him like this."
She shook it off, horrified at herself. To compensate, she ordered another plate of his favorite frog dish.
On the way back, Chu Zhi bought milk tea for the band and Liang Pingbo. Wei Tongzi watched, bemused. "He's so considerate. How could anyone call him difficult?"
The power of bias: Before meeting him, she'd assumed his scandal had "humbled" him. Now? She was rewriting history in her head.
For two straight days (24th-25th), Chu Zhi rehearsed relentlessly…
And then—
Recording day arrived.