Los Angeles. Midnight had passed, but the city's lights still shone through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, spilling into the living room of the penthouse apartment in Beverly Hills and casting long shadows on the floor.
The air was filled with the lingering scent of expensive cigars, the aroma of strong liquor, and the intense, lingering scent of sex that had just subsided.
Chu stood bare-chested, wearing only loose-fitting pajama bottoms, at the cold Italian marble bar, pouring himself half a glass of whiskey. His bronze skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat, his muscles smooth and defined, like a young cheetah that had just finished hunting and was now resting lazily.
A fiery-haired woman in a skimpy strapless dress bent over to pick up the scattered clothes on the floor. Her movements were lingering, her eyes fixed on Chu's broad back and narrow waist.
"Baby, tonight was amazing... There's a party tomorrow night. Want to come?" Her voice was hoarse with seduction.
Chu didn't even turn around, tilting his head back to take a swig of alcohol. The amber liquid slid down his Adam's apple. "No." His voice was cold, devoid of emotion, not even bothering to feign interest.
The woman's smile froze for a moment but quickly returned. She dressed quickly, knowing when to leave. "Alright... then, we'll stay in touch?" She picked up her phone, the implication clear.
"Hmm." Chu emitted a vague sound from his throat, a response.
The woman finally left, the sound of her high heels fading away at the elevator entrance.
The apartment fell completely silent. The vast space, the top-notch decor, the expensive artwork—all seemed eerily empty at that moment. The intense physical entanglement from moments ago had swept through like a gust of wind, leaving no trace behind, not even enough to dispel the raging fire in his heart.
He walked to the full-length mirror covering the entire wall. The mirror reflected a flawless mixed-race face—inheriting his Korean mother's delicate, sculpted features and fair skin, blended with the deep, angular contours from his father's side.Young, handsome, and exuding an aggressive charm.
But at this moment, his face was shrouded in a layer of gloom. His lips were tightly pursed, and his eyes were filled with unquenchable anger and a sense of offended pride.
The news that his agent Touson had brought him this afternoon was still buzzing in his head.
"Chu, the new album... They've decided to put it on hold for now.Touson's voice was cautious over the phone, but he had to deliver the bad news. "You know, with those photos taken outside the nightclub recently, and the rumors about you and that model... There's a lot of backlash online, and our partners are worried it'll affect sales. They suggest we play it down and wait for the storm to pass..."
Play it down?
Fuck play it down!
He had prepared for this album for nearly a year, pouring his heart and soul into it. Those notes, those melodies, were crafted word by word! Just because of a few blurry photos and some baseless rumors, he was supposed to wait indefinitely?
He slammed his fist against the cold mirror, producing a dull thud. The perfect face in the mirror twisted slightly.
Why?
From being forced to sit behind a cello taller than him at the age of three, to his first self-written single unexpectedly going viral at sixteen, topping all the charts, and being dubbed a "genius" and "top-tier star"... His life had been like a precision-controlled rocket, soaring upward, breaking through every obstacle. He had grown accustomed to success, to being adored, to the world revolving around his every whim.
There was almost nothing he couldn't do.
Except, it seemed, completely control the damn noisy public opinion outside.
The anger had no outlet. So he went to his usual bar, drank the most alcohol, and brought back the hottest woman. He vented his damn frustration in the most primal way.
But after it was over, all that remained was deeper emptiness and irritation.
He stared at himself in the mirror, suddenly took out his phone, adjusted the angle, and took a photo of himself in the mirror. The focus was on his muscular chest and abs, with the light skillfully outlining the shadows. His handsome face, tinged with a hint of malice, was half-hidden in the dim light.
He edited it skillfully, too lazy to even add a caption, and posted it directly on Instagram.
Almost instantly, the likes and comments started to jump wildly.
[Ahhh, my husband! Sigh!]
[This body makes me bleed from my nose!]
[Brother is so handsome again!]
[Chu! The eternal god!]
[He's spreading his charm again… Help me!]
The fans' fervor surged like a tidal wave. He scrolled through them expressionlessly, then tossed his phone aside.
Like it? He knew. He knew exactly what they liked. This body, this seemingly rebellious and carefree attitude—it was all a feast for their consumption and indulgence.
As for those who criticized him? He didn't care at all. Just the noise of ants.
But the album being put on hold felt like a thorn, piercing his overly inflated ego and fragile desire for control.
Just then, the phone he'd tossed onto the couch rang. The screen flashed "Touson."
Chu furrowed his brows, answering with extreme impatience: "What now? If it's to tell me another endorsement fell through, just shut up."
Touson on the other end was clearly used to his temper, his voice still cautious: "No, no, Chu, it's good news. An opportunity."
"Spit it out."
"It's *Heart Journey*, you know? That travel reality show that was super popular years ago? It's been off the air for ages, but the platform is spending big bucks to reboot it! They've extended an invitation, wanting you to be a regular guest!"
"Reality TV?" Chu's tone was filled with contempt. "You want me to act in front of the cameras? Play house with a bunch of strangers? Touson, did you hit your head on the door?" He had been in the entertainment industry long enough to know that such shows were scripted and scripted.
"No, no, no, listen to me," Touson hurriedly explained. "This reboot is a big deal. The attention it will get is guaranteed!This is a great opportunity for you! All the negative stuff online, let's be honest, it's because people think you're… um… too distant from the public, a bit… cynical? Lacking authenticity?"
Touson chose his words carefully: "This show is the perfect platform to showcase your… um… more authentic side?Let the audience see that besides music and parties, you, Chu, are also a young person with real emotions! It can bridge the gap with the public and turn your image around! This will definitely benefit your future album release! Plus, the compensation is extremely generous!"
The real side?
Chu scoffed. What "real" side did he need to show those people?
But the phrases "rebrand your image," "beneficial for your album," and "very generous compensation" hit the nail on the head for his current needs.
He needed to break the current deadlock. He needed to regain control of the situation. He needed to show those who doubted and resisted him that Chu was still the all-powerful center of attention.
It's just a reality show. Even if there's a script, he could still be the absolute star.Treating this as a new game... doesn't seem so boring after all.
He remained silent for a few seconds, gazing out the window at the never-ending lights of Los Angeles, a smirk slowly curling the corners of his mouth, a mix of arrogance and curiosity.
"Alright," he said lazily, as if granting a favor, "Send me the details. Tell them my schedule is expensive."