If you don't flush the toilet, time will still rush on. Even the Emperor Beast flushing the toilet could feel that time passed too quickly. In the blink of an eye, it was already the end of May, and Chu Zhi had been filming for two and a half months.
Chu Zhi was just about to go to sleep when he spotted a massive piece of gossip online: #Zhou GuowuNighttimeSuperman. In an instant, he was wide awake.
The revelation? Every time Zhou Guowu visited a new city, he would sleep with a different female fan. There were bed photos, chat records, and even audio recordings.
The evidence was ironclad, far juicier than any long-winded post. There was no denying it. The woman who exposed him had turned from a devoted fan into a furious whistle-blower after discovering Zhou Guowu's private chat logs…
The "Nighttime Superman" nickname came from the exposer's closing words: "I like the Xuanyu, but I never expected this. Turns out he's a nighttime Superman. After sleeping with me four times, he could still find someone else in the second half of the night. Truly a man who roams the night like a superhero."
"Xuanyu" referred to the male lead in Zhou Guowu's current drama, a half-human, half-merfolk character beloved by fans. It was also one of the most popular roles he had ever played.
The comment section was like a blacksmith's workshop, hammers swinging wildly as more dirt flew. Some fans even had videos, allegedly downloaded directly from Zhou Guowu's phone, since he apparently liked filming his encounters.
Perhaps because nothing had ever come back to bite him before, Zhou Guowu had grown reckless. Now, both his chats and his videos had been leaked. He was about to pay the price.
"Is this the kind of content I'm allowed to watch for free?" Chu Zhi muttered to himself. He hesitated, but in the end, he didn't bother copying the link to a Baidu cloud drive to watch those bedroom recordings.
There's a saying: "When a top star's reputation collapses, the fallout is extraordinary." Another one goes: "When the wall falls, everyone pushes." True or not, countless other women began stepping forward, claiming they too had slept with Zhou Guowu.
Weibo turned into a collapsed dam, sending waves of gossip flooding across the nation's melon fields. Melon after melon after melon.
"Right now, there are five women with solid evidence against Zhou Guowu, and another thirty or forty without proof… Seriously, is that kind of thing really that interesting?"
Chu Zhi pondered. Before he transmigrated, he hadn't exactly been a virgin. Having clawed his way up in society, the idea that he would still be one was laughable.
Thinking it over calmly, Chu Zhi decided that deceiving people was far more entertaining.
The proof against Zhou Guowu was so solid there was no room for denial. His company was probably scrambling to handle the PR crisis, but this was the kind of disaster that human effort could not fix.
The exposé dropped at 2:15 a.m., yet by midday the next day, neither Zhou Guowu's official account nor his studio's had issued any response.
His fans were in uproar. Many switched from devoted supporters to bitter critics, though of course some diehard "brain-dead" fans were still trying desperately to defend him.
The internet is full of creative minds. One user, ID ╭ッひシ二两, enthusiastically suggested a solution for Zhou Guowu:
"I've got an idea for Zhou Guowu. Right now, there are only three ways to divert the public's attention in China:
Take back Taiwan
Blow up the Yasukuni Shrine
Have Chu Zhi announce a relationship"
"Hahaha! Why are you putting Jiu-yé alongside the first two? Is there some gossip about Jiu-yé?"
The original poster replied:
"No, no, no gossip. I'm just speaking the truth. Think about it: if Xiao Jiu really had a girlfriend and went public with it, wouldn't it instantly push Nighttime Superman off the trending list?"
At first glance, the reply seemed infuriating. Why drag their beautiful, independent Xiao Jiu into this? But on second thought, it kind of made sense.
"True, if Xiao Jiu went public, I'd definitely be more focused on that… but Xiao Jiu doesn't have a girlfriend. Pfft, pfft, pfft."
"Unfortunately, none of those three things are possible right now. As the famous paparazzo @Wang Erwu the Detective once said: 'Damn, I tailed him for half a year and the biggest scoop I got was Chu Zhi drinking baijiu before going on stage.' This guy is unbelievable."
"Hahaha, speaking of Wang Erwu, it's always funny. Little Jiu has no scandals at all."
"Let's be honest. The first one would be a nationwide celebration. Zhou Guowu's mess can't compare. The second could spark a major diplomatic incident and even drag in the U.S., so of course Zhou Guowu's drama is nothing in comparison. As for the last one, it might seem small, but that's only on the surface. Search the term 'The Bride's Chu Fan Club' and you'll see. If that really happened, I doubt most of Asia could handle it."
There were a lot of onlookers laughing along.
Of course, a few of the Little Fruits were genuinely upset. For them, the idea of their idol going public with a relationship was a nightmare.
Even casual bystanders joined the conversation. Whenever a top star fell from grace, Chu Zhi's name inevitably came up, simply because he was one of the rare positive examples in the industry.
Curious onlookers who had never heard of "The Bride's Chu Fan Club" looked it up online.
The result? Shock.
It was an "extreme" fan club from Japan, accepting only highly attractive female members. Their sole mission was to "marry Chu Zhi and become the ideal wife." Similar "extreme" fan clubs existed in South Korea. Whether China had one was unclear, but none had shown themselves publicly.
In short, could such extreme fans accept their idol announcing a girlfriend? Some might literally kill themselves.
It wasn't until 4 p.m. the following afternoon that Zhou Guowu posted a handwritten apology. A whole lot of empty words later, the gist was: he hadn't broken any laws, he admitted fault, and he would temporarily step away from the industry as self-punishment.
Ah, the classic "sheathed blade" tactic of guilty celebrities. Step back now, wait for the storm to pass, and return when the public has forgotten. After all, mistakes fade over time, and eventually there will be people defending him: "He only made a small mistake. What a pity."
By evening, the heat around the scandal had visibly cooled, probably due to paid suppression of the trending topic.
[MangmangLifeIsTough]: "Holding tight to my Jiu. Too many idols have fallen lately. Jiu, please don't ever collapse. You're my pillar."
[HeavenBornKingdom]: "Don't talk nonsense. Even if the sky falls, Jiu-yé will never fall from grace."
[FateDestinedDongHuangTaiyi]: "Don't jinx it, don't jinx it. You're scaring me talking like that."
[Huluhu]: "I believe Jiu-yé will never have a scandal. I'd given up on my high school entrance exams, but it was Jiu-yé who made me pick up my books again."
In fact, it seemed there were even more discussions about Chu Zhi than Zhou Guowu.
Zhou Guowu's downfall also shifted the entertainment industry's power balance. With one of the five top spots suddenly vacant, ambitious stars were eager to claw their way up.
Why fight for this empty seat? Because investors, clueless as they often were, trusted market data above all else. The title of "top star" could instantly raise an actor's pay and endorsement fees by at least thirty percent.
Where there's profit, only a fool wouldn't compete.
In this parallel world, the criteria for top star status were clearer than in reality, where things were a mess except for the original trailblazers.
Major agencies like Wawa Entertainment, Jiahe, Banana Media, and Dounian Supreme pounced like starving tigers on fresh meat.
"Xi Yao pampers fans so much that reporters say it's the most fan-loving moment since Orange Grove Festival!"
"Lin Xia vs Lin Weiran: The Battle of the Twin Lins!"
"Top Ten Most Handsome New-Generation Costume Drama Actors: Chu Zhi Only Ranked Second. Guess Who's First!"
"Tao Luo Wins Best Male Singer at the Global Chinese Music Chart Awards!"
Press releases were everywhere. Many fans had seen more promotional articles in the past two days than in the past month combined.
"What a pity. Without enough popularity, there's no chance," sighed badminton youth Zhou Yiyu, who could clearly see the game for what it was.
Hype. Push someone to the top spot.
These press releases were all about comparisons with current high-popularity stars. Like Lin Xia, the mainland's best-selling physical album champion, far more impressive than Lin Weiran in terms of achievements, yet packaged together in a "Twin Lins Battle" as if they were in the same league.
Advertising campaigns often use this tactic. For example, in the United States, KFC is not considered a second-tier brand, but rather on par with Burger King and McDonald's.
When KFC entered the Chinese market, it deliberately opened stores next to McDonald's, creating the illusion for consumers that the two were of equal standing.
"I don't need to know which locations have the best foot traffic. We just need to open next to McDonald's." — KFC.
Later, through its localization strategy, KFC easily outperformed Burger King and McDonald's in mainland China.
Back to the main topic. When issuing a press release, you must be careful not to exaggerate too much. Take for example the list of the Top Ten New Era Costume Drama Male Beauties — Chu Zhi was ranked second, even though the reason given was that he had never acted in a costume drama before, except for a few minutes of period costume in the "Like Smoke" music video.
As for the one in first place… well, you'd instantly understand why the flowers are so red.
After a week of heated arguments, the new "Four Top Stars" were formed, made up of the top five from Baidu's Boiling Point Popularity List:
Lin Xia (3), Xi Yao (2), Lin Weiran (4), Tao Luo (4).
The last group was ranked during the recording of "Journey Among the Stars," and nearly two years have passed since then. In reality, not much has changed — traffic stars earn quick money in a short burst.
When an artist's quality is lacking, the audience naturally treats them like a disposable product.
Thus, the once-famous phrase "Wu's head, Chu's tail, ambition soaring like clouds" became a thing of the past.
Of course, for Chu Zhi, who has consistently held an unshakable first place on the Boiling Point Popularity List, no matter how the rankings shuffle, he will always stand on the crest of the wave.
And those on the crest know how to make the most of their time. Even while playing the Emperor Beast, it was no different. In the middle of filming, he finalized plans for two new albums.
"The first will be my debut English album, tentatively titled 'Under the Gods.' It will feature mainly Avicii-style electronic tracks and Led Zeppelin influences, with an uplifting and encouraging tone, and a harder singing style."
"The second will be a Chinese-style album, titled 'Still Chu Ci.'"
Each album plan spanned several pages. Every detail needed careful design — from the cover art to the exact placement of each song within the album. Chu Zhi sent both proposals to Niu Jiangxue's email.
"Filming won't wrap until August. These albums can't be recorded in bits and pieces during spare moments."
He planned to record after the shoot was complete. Rubbing the corner of his eyes, Chu Zhi realized that his eyesight was starting to blur from reading too much. Fortunately, he found many vision-related artifacts in the Strange Item Mini Mall.
The most amusing was the "Thousand-Mile Lollipop," which, once eaten, let you see incredibly far… but made anything nearby blurry.
Chu Zhi decided to exchange for the items later, since for now his vision wasn't a serious problem.
His two-plus months on set had other rewards as well. The crew frequently organized gatherings, but Chu Zhi reached a personal milestone of "Rejecting Industry Invitations * 120," earning 7 Personality Coins.
Without hesitation, he opened a blind box and drew something baffling — an album titled "Awakening.From.Dukkha." It wasn't a music album, but a Mongolian-language record.
More precisely, it was a re-recorded album by a band called Nine Treasures. Chu Zhi had never heard of them in his past life, but according to the prize pool's details, they were a formidable heavy metal group.
Meanwhile, on the other side…
Time: May 31
Location: Bona Company
People: A whole team in a meeting.
They were in the conference room discussing the promotion for the soon-to-be-released film "No Ex."
Bona was the lead investor, and since the director was one they had trained themselves, the company was highly invested in its success.
Producer Bu Xin, Bona's golden producer, stood up to speak.
"I've reviewed all your promotional plans. They're very good. Let's center the campaign on the theme song, 'You Got Me Drunk.'"
Some in the room didn't understand why the theme song should be the promotional core — but after hearing the whole track, they got it.
And so it was decided. "No Ex" wasn't yet ready to premiere when the annual high school entrance exams arrived in mid-June.
Wansheng Province, Ma City — home to the famous Caishi Cliff, a scenic marvel.
On June 14, Yi Lin woke up early, taking the documents and stationery she had prepared the day before, and headed to the exam site. Better early than late.
On the way, Yi Lin checked that her ruler, compass, and other tools were all in place.
Today, she was taking the high school entrance exam. Three months earlier, her parents had suddenly started divorce proceedings, which had turned ugly. Both had been unfaithful and righteously claimed the other had cheated first, while their own was only out of heartbreak.
Because of the chaos at home, Yi Lin's grades once strong, had plummeted during the mock exams, to the point that she didn't even want to take the real test.
It was Chu Zhi's song "Angel" that healed her, reigniting her hope.
On the first day of the exam, Yi Lin's condition was decent. But on the second day, during the math test, she developed a pounding headache. She knew it was because her parents had been fighting the night before, forcing her to shut herself in her room. Even with earplugs, she could still hear them.
With both parents having cheated, the divorce was inevitable. But the process dragged on for months because they were still fighting over the division of the house and car.
Yi Lin could do nothing but grit her teeth and push through the test. By the end, she wasn't even sure what she had written. When the three-day exam was over, Yi Lin felt as though her soul had been hollowed out.
At home, with her door closed and earplugs in, she could usually block out the noise. But at night, what kept her awake was a conversation that played on repeat in her head:
"I don't want her. The daughter goes with you."
"With me? No way. I don't want her either. You deal with it."
"You're her mother. You gave birth to her and don't want her?"
"And you're her father!"
Like a bone-burrowing parasite, her parents' voices gnawed at her mind. Whenever they fought again, her brain would replay that conversation uncontrollably.
She opened Orange Home and saw a post she had written in the comment section:
"Get into a good high school, then a good university. Jiu-yé gives me confidence!"
[ "Hope reignited, awooo~
I must work hard, because Jiu-yé is working hard too. I believe I can do well." ]
It was such a simple sentence, yet it had gathered many blessings from Little Fruits, as well as encouragement from other students taking the same exam. Yi Lin could clearly remember the mood she had been in when she wrote it — determined, hopeful.
"I think I messed up the exam."
"I can't work hard alongside Jiu-yé anymore…"