Even Day Day Up had basically gone flat, lying still like a salted fish with little effort toward promotion. But for the episode airing on December 6, all the hosts of the Day Day group posted in advance to build hype.
Pan Ying wrote: [This episode's #MysteryGuestOnDayDayUp# features a very special guest. Tune in at 9 p.m. tonight.]
Da Tang: [The production team spent their whole budget on this one guest, hehe. #MysteryGuestOnDayDayUp#]
Little Beast: [Learned so much from #MysteryGuestOnDayDayUp#!]
Wei Xiquan: [You'll regret missing this.]
Kang Long: [No extra words tonight. This guest is my idol.]
Of course, with zero paid trending, the hashtag #MysteryGuestOnDayDayUp# only peaked around 20th place.
But once the show aired, viewership spiked midway through—right when Chu Zhi made his appearance. The barrage of comments on Mango TV exploded instantly.
Then came Chu Zhi's performance.
🎵"My world is beautiful because of you. My sky stays bright because of you..."🎵
"The Most Beautiful Sun" could be seen as a love song to fans, or just as easily a confession to a lover.
Chu Zhi already had a huge following of girlfriend-type fans. While these days he had plenty of career-focused and maternal fans too, Little Fruits was still mainly composed of girlfriend fans.
The explosion of reactions was predictable.
Though the show didn't trend before airing, hashtags quickly flooded the top rankings: #WhoIsTheMostBeautifulSun?#, #IsChuZhiConfessingToSomeone?#
"Nooo, don't let it be a real confession!"
"No one deserves brother Jiu!"
"Let our Jiu remain beautifully single! Who is that vixen?!"
Thankfully, his management team had prepped well. They'd already explained to fan group leaders and moderators that "Chu Zhi isn't in a relationship. This song is for someone special, but it's not romantic." An announcement had also gone up on Orange Home.
The narrative shifted accordingly:
"That 'someone special' could be family, stop overthinking. When has our Jiu ever lied to us?"
"Makes sense. Little Jiu has never deceived us."
"Give A-Jiu some space."
If this had happened with any other fandom, chaos might have broken out. But Little Fruits, the strongest and most united fanbase online, stood by their idol. Their sheer trust cooled down the heat, drowning out even the faintest doubts.
It was disappointing for gossip-hungry onlookers. The melon wasn't ripe.
"Is A-Jiu's depression getting better? Why did he seem off on the show? A bit slow to react."
Chu Zhi's wealthy mother-type fans were split into two groups. One group dated back to his Dream of the Red Chamber livestream era, led by Wang Yuan and the rest.
The other group joined later, around the fan festival when he performed "Glory." The moment pictures surfaced of Chu Zhi personally handing out fan souvenirs with his team, it was game over. Who could resist that?
That earlier comment came from one of these: Ma Xin, 41 years old, co-founder of Wuhan Mingren Biotechnology Co. Ltd. Though her family helped her start the business, she was exceptional in her own right, holding postdoctoral credentials from Heidelberg University and Tulane University Medical Center.
"Didn't we get a nutritionist for A-Jiu? Why hasn't it helped at all?" Tao Yi-ye frowned. "What I want to know is who 'The Most Beautiful Sun' is for."
Tao Yi-ye, 51, is the Deputy General Manager of Zhongfan Tech—a seemingly low-profile company that is actually the largest domestic producer of high-performance carbon fiber in the country.
"I know a fan who works close to Jiu Cub. Bit of a temper, but I can ask." Xiong Xiaoru, an AI scientist at Alibaba's DAMO Academy, aged 45, chimed in.
"I just don't want this to end badly. If he's really dating someone, don't tell me. It's not the relationship that matters—he's grown up after all—but deceiving fans isn't okay." Tao Yi-ye didn't usually follow celebrities. She looked into Chu Zhi only to understand her daughter better, but was impressed when she learned about his million-yuan fan donations. A celebrity with that much integrity? She became a fan herself.
"He said it wasn't romantic, didn't he?" Ma Xin countered.
Tao Yi-ye didn't disagree. She simply had a habit of preparing for the worst.
Xiong Xiaoru made the call. The fan she mentioned was none other than Wang Yuan—the notorious protective fan.
To understand Wang Yuan's personality: she'd never let Chu Zhi suffer. When she heard there were doubts, she brought up the matter with Xiao Ai.
She ended her explanation with:
"If this got publicized, sure, everyone would praise him for being loyal and kind. But Jiu has so much fame that Xiao Ai's family would be thrown into the spotlight. Media, influencers, reporters—it'd be endless. He didn't want to cause trouble for them, so he asked us to keep it quiet."
"If you like someone, don't doubt them. Especially if that person is A-Jiu." Wang Yuan hung up right after.
Xiong Xiaoru had the phone on speaker, so everyone in the room heard.
"The Most Beautiful Sun is for a fan... A-Jiu treats fans so well. What a shame that little girl never got to hear it," Ma Xin sighed, mourning a lost life.
Xiong Xiaoru nodded. He'd written a whole song, and even sent her off in her final moments.
"No wonder his mental state seemed off. Recorded the performance overnight..." Tao Yi-ye was now thinking of ways to comfort the heartbroken Chu Zhi.
The mom-fans decided to send him a gift. It would take some time to prepare, but they were certain he'd love it.
As the weather turned colder and the New Year neared, workers who hadn't earned enough money grew increasingly anxious.
In late December, after more than two months of work, Chu Ci: Ode to the Orange was finally complete. Except for the MV, which was handled by Da Chong, everything else was done by Chu Zhi himself. He really was saying, "No one makes money off me."
Penguin Music paid 40 million for exclusive first release—yet still made it free to the public.
They were hoping to use Chu Zhi's popularity to crush competitors like NetEase Cloud and KuGou.
"Release it on all platforms," Chu Zhi refused.
It didn't mean he wouldn't earn anything. The album launched across eight platforms—KuGou, Penguin, NetEase, Kuwo, Qianqian, etc.—each paid him 3–4 million.
If he hadn't insisted on a multi-platform launch, the platforms could have hosted it for free.
But since they all chose to pay and all ended up hosting it anyway, it became a perfect example of a zero-sum game—true to the bone.
Then came the biggest holiday of December—
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Chu," said Otsu Etsuji as soon as he answered the call.
"Merry Christmas, Director Otsu." Chu Zhi had lost count of how many times he'd said that today.
"The release date for After I Close My Eyes has been set: April 1st, with simultaneous screenings across Asia. I hope you can attend the Tokyo premiere."
April Fool's Day, huh? Sounded like a prank.
Still, an Asia-wide release was a good thing.
"Of course. It's my first film, and I really enjoyed working with you. Even if I'm busy, I'll make time for it."
Otsu Etsuji loved hearing that. He grinned over the phone and said, "Merry Christmas again. I won't keep you."
Chu Zhi continued sending Christmas greetings, grouped by type. Elder friends like Uncle Hou and Uncle Zheng didn't celebrate foreign holidays, so he skipped them.
Some WeChat contacts hated voice messages, especially long or multiple ones, so he typed for those. Like Gu Peng—the poster child of social anxiety. Typing: god-tier. Voice: bronze. Video: tin foil. In person: rusty scrap metal.
Two hours later, his whole Christmas routine was done.
Tired? Not really. These were all networking and money-making opportunities. Easy money doesn't exist, and Chu Zhi was used to the grind.
He gave his studio employees a half-day off. Why not the full day? Because even with five new assistants, the workload was still crushing.
"Brother Jiu, I'm in Modu! Wanna hang out tonight?" Voice message from Li Fei, the drama king.
"Jiu Bro, just landed in Modu. Tonight's show is gonna be great. You coming?" from Zhou Guowu, the new A-lister trying to latch on.
"Whole roast lamb. Delicious. Hurry up," from taciturn foodie Luo Jianhui.
Dozens more like these.
But Chu Zhi turned them all down. Not because he was antisocial—he simply wasn't in Modu. That afternoon, he had flown to Mountain City, and was now in the JJ District.
In Aiping Mountain, beside the Martyrs Cemetery, lay a public graveyard. It was where his original body's mother, Yang Weiyu, was buried.
"So she passed away on Christmas... For that eleven-year-old boy, all Christmases since turned from colorful to pitch-black." Chu Zhi couldn't help but reflect on life's absurdities.
He paid his respects, then visited the Martyrs Cemetery next door, where 1,010 heroes were buried. The monument bore Marshal Nie's inscription.
He checked into a local hotel.
By refusing more than twenty invitations today, he completed the system task: [Reject Entertainment Industry Invitations *50, Earned: 6 Personality Coins]. An unintended but fruitful result.
"Nice. Been a while since my personality coins hit triple digits," Chu Zhi mumbled.
The system almost asked, When exactly did you have that many coins? But it held back.
In his travel backpack, he brought a book. Every night, he read before bed. He'd finished translating Gu Cheng's poetry and sent the manuscript to the publisher. Now, he continued translating Flowers in the Mirror.
This time, Langzi Publishing went big—10,000 copies in the first print run. Projected sales: around 40,000.
Speaking of Japan, the AZ Lipstick Series by Sofina launched today.
Why so late, when the commercial had been ready for two months?
Because the previous ambassador's contract expired in December. Waste not, want not—Sofina waited until it ended.
And since the AZ line was a new release, they picked December 25 to debut it. On that day, commercials featuring Chu Zhi aired across multiple TV stations.
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"无心插柳柳成荫" (Wúxīn chā liǔ liǔchéngyīn) is a Chinese idiom meaning "An unintentional act yields unexpected results."