Orphans of a Beautiful World?
Little Fruits' Xiao Xiao's expression stirred. She had been a fan of Chu Zhi for a long time, all the way back to The Coming One.
Since his return on I Am a Singer, she hadn't missed a single program. Xiao Xiao still remembered his words during a livestreamed variety show themed after Dream of the Red Chamber, when the topic of suicide came up.
"We are all children of this beautiful world. Children, please don't end your lives. Let's live well together."
But why was the song calling them orphans instead of children? Xiao Xiao thought back to a review she had read half a month ago. The critic had written that Chu Zhi seemed to carry a powerful sense of distance from the world.
On stage, Chu Zhi's fingers brushed the strings of his guitar as though teasing the reflection of willow branches in water. Ripples and splashes spread, yet the branches themselves could never be touched.
The intro was empty, hollow.
Then Chu Zhi began to sing.
🎵 "Don't cry, my dear one, I think we will die together." 🎵
🎵 "Don't cry, summer's rose, everything has already passed." 🎵
🎵 "Look at the cars weaving through the streets, the neon lights flashing in the distance—how much this resembles our dream." 🎵
Chu Zhi cradled the mic stand with both hands, eyes falling upon the crowd. My dear one was not a lover. It was meant for every listener present.
To be addressed by an idol as "my dear one" was like being called "darling." And rounded off, it was almost like "baby." Little Fruits felt joy welling in their chests, Xiao Xiao even wanted to wave her hands with glee.
Yet the song's melody and emotions carried a weight too heavy to define.
If the previous track had been tranquil and warm, the opening words "die together" struck with solitude and chill.
The voice of loneliness carried on.
🎵 "Come, my dear one, tonight we dance together. Come, lonely wildflower, all things will disappear." 🎵
🎵 "Do you hear the nightingale outside the window, the laughing crowds on the street? This is so much like our dream." 🎵
🎵 "Oh, don't cry, my dear one. We must be strong, we must smile, for no matter how we live…" 🎵
🎵 "We are forever the orphans of this beautiful world!" 🎵
It pressed down, again and again! Each lyric weighed upon the audience like mountains on their shoulders. Words like [loneliness], [disappearance], [dream] made breathing fragile, careful, until the arrival of [smile]—and then everything exploded at once.
Loneliness buried deep within dust, blooming into radiant sunflowers.
"This song…" Xiao Xiao sucked in a sharp breath, but it was like inhaling onions. Her nose stung, tears slipped before she could stop them.
Her mind went back to that critic's words, comparing Chu Zhi to the actor Su Shiyi who once declared "without madness, there is no life." Was Chu Zhi truly so estranged from the world?
No time to think. The power bursting from the melody was undeniable. The drumbeat suddenly dropped from high to low, pulling hearts with it.
Chu Zhi's voice wasn't husky, but his middle and lower registers still carried a shock that resonated in bones.
🎵 "Sometimes I feel so lost, I feel like nothing but a blade of grass." 🎵
🎵 "Sometimes I sink into emptiness, and I don't even know why." 🎵
🎵 "Time flows away, yet I remain here, fallen into a whirlpool without end." 🎵
Damn it. This was supposed to be a music festival—why did it feel like the Himalayas had rolled into his eyes? A passerby in the crowd, Xiao Gang, wiped his tears again and again with trembling fingers.
He thought of evenings when coworkers made dinner plans after work while he chose to go home alone to save money. Boiling a plain bowl of noodles, staring at the pale broth, he had felt like nothing more than a blade of grass.
Or holidays spent scrolling endlessly through short videos, wasting the entire day. Not even bothering to eat three meals properly, then overeating at night, only to gaze out the window at the forest of concrete towers and feel an emptiness strike deep into his chest.
Xiao Gang wasn't without friends. If he wanted company, he could easily find someone to drink with, to eat with. But that kind of emptiness was something words could never express.
"Can't play sneak attacks on me," Xiao Gang muttered to himself.
And he wasn't the only one crying. Many of Little Fruits shared the same hidden wounds.
Yoon A clutched her chest. Kim Mina breathed heavily. Even the usually cheerful Ojima Matsushika wore a grave face. This was the meaning of "music has no borders." Even if they couldn't understand the lyrics word for word, the emotion reached them all the same.
🎵 "Baby, look at the moon rising over the wilderness. Hold me tighter, please, I feel cold, I feel pain." 🎵
🎵 "Look at the cars rushing by as though searching for something. They are like our fates." 🎵
🎵 "Oh, don't cry, my dear one—" 🎵
Chu Zhi's enunciation could be called deliberate technique, or simply emotion overflowing. But the way he sang I feel cold, I feel pain was enough to wrench even a heart of stone.
The drums cut out. He shifted the arrangement live, slipping into a guitar solo that built from the hollow prelude into solid rhythm, the pace growing more dynamic with each phrase.
The shift was so sudden that even Da Di of the band Sour Grapes, who had been half-distractedly playing on his phone, lowered it from the moment Chu Zhi started singing.
He wasn't alone. Many guests reacted the same. The earlier Fields of Wheat in the Wind had been so serene in contrast.
"Whew… I could never write a song like this," Zhou Yiyu said softly.
Not that Zhou Yiyu was a songwriter in the first place. He couldn't have written any song, let alone this one.
Songwriter Gu Beisheng, however, said nothing. He simply sat quietly, listening.
Then the drums burst back in, like a heart shocked back to life after flatlining. Gu Beisheng's chest jolted with it.
🎵 "We must be strong, we must smile." 🎵
🎵 "Because no matter how we live, we are forever the orphans of this beautiful world!" 🎵
Chu Zhi's voice landed with a stunning finish, the lyrics piercing straight into souls.
For two or three seconds, silence reigned over the venue. Then the roar of voices surged like a wave.
Little Fruits cried out:
"Brother Jiu will never wither!"
"No one can replace Brother Jiu, just like the sun in the sky cannot be replaced!"
"The brightest star above is you, the most radiant sun is still you!"
Overseas fans shouted too:
"Ragdoll, I'll always be here!"
"Professor, we'll always support you!"
"The eastern tide will never recede!"
Eastern tide was a nickname given to Chu Zhi by Vietnamese fans, proof enough of his immense popularity there.
The chaotic cries soon melded into one loud, unified chant:
"Jiu-yé! Don't cry, we'll hug you!"
"Don't cry. I need to be strong." Chu Zhi smiled faintly. "I hope we can all stay strong together, living on."
The moment their idol spoke, fans gradually fell quiet. The discipline and order of it all was enough to leave outsiders speechless.
"Eight years, eighteen years, twenty-eight years… I hope you'll all still be here," Chu Zhi said.
In the crowd, Xiao Xiao's courage swelled. She shouted, "Even eighty-eight years, I'll still be here!"
Her voice rang loud and clear. Chu Zhi heard her and couldn't help but laugh.
"Eighty-eight years? That would make me over a hundred. Hahaha. If I can still sing by then, a centenarian's concert—it has a nice ring to it."
Little Fruits chimed in one after another.
"I'll be there even if you're two hundred!"
"As long as you keep singing, I'll keep supporting!"
"Walking this road together for life!"
One side rejoiced, another sulked. While Chinese fans basked in joy, overseas fans grew envious.
"Mina unni, what did the Professor say?"
"Unni, can you translate for us?"
Fans who understood Chinese were begged for help. Kim Mina, however, was too busy squealing back at her idol to translate anything.
The thought struck many: I need to learn Chinese.
The notion lodged itself in the hearts of Japanese, Korean, and Vietnamese fans present. Of course, such impulses rarely lasted long. Most people didn't act on such fleeting thoughts. But when a notion surfaced again and again, who could say?
It had been a long time since Chu Zhi had seen his fans face-to-face. He stayed to chat for a while.
In the crowd, three Monkey Brothers whispered to each other,
"Orphans of a beautiful world… yeah, we're all orphans of this beautiful world."
"Brother Jiu has mastered rock completely. Glam rock, pop rock, heavy metal, hard rock—there's nothing he can't handle."
Even the invited performers who stayed behind felt it was worth it.
"Compared to Fuji Rock, he's already improved again. And it hasn't even been that long. How's anyone else supposed to live?"
"Our lead singer, should we set Brother Jiu as our goal?"
"Don't try to kill me. Just the number of instruments he's shown on Bilibili is enough to keep me learning for a lifetime. My grandpa always said, if you want to live long, don't torment yourself."
The band Look Up had met Chu Zhi twice before. The first time was Night of Rock, when they realized he was more than just an idol singer. The second was watching him conquer Fuji Rock in person.
Originally, Chu Zhi only planned to perform two songs. But chatting with fans made him so happy he couldn't help singing another—The Brightest Star in the Night Sky.
The entire venue erupted in chorus.
Though the song had only been released a little over a year, it held special meaning for Little Fruits. This time, though, it wasn't just them. Even Japanese fans joined in.
The drama Journey Among the Stars had been broadcast in Japan. Even Ojima Matsushika, slow to memorize anything, knew the line:
🎵 "I would rather keep all the pain in my heart than ever forget your eyes." 🎵
He loved that lyric. His mother often said sorry to him, over and over, but he loved her eyes most. Especially when her gaze turned warm and smiling—at those times, every pain, every hardship seemed to vanish.
The music festival had transformed into a full concert. Guest bands like Look Up also sang songs familiar to the crowd, but none had sparked such a deafening chorus as Chu Zhi did.
No wonder Brother Jiu was the finale. If he had performed earlier, how could later acts follow? The atmosphere would have been shattered.
Three songs passed. Night was falling, and the festival neared its end.
"Encore! Encore!" A raw-throated male voice shouted above all others.
Fans turned toward the sound. A man.
It was Xiao Gang, the passerby. He couldn't stand it—three songs were not enough. He had to cry out, he hadn't heard enough yet!
"Eh? That word… I think I can understand it." Ojima Matsushika perked up. "アンコール! アンコール!" (Encore! Encore!) He bellowed too.
And when Ojima Matsushika shouted, his voice carried far louder than Xiao Gang's.
One call led to another. Little Fruits eagerly joined in, desperate for one more chance to hear their idol sing.