No one expected it, but Zhou Yiyu still got his wish and became the champion of I Really Am a Singer. However, during the finals, Guan Xiaoyao abruptly withdrew from the program due to "health reasons."
With such an outcome, there was no doubt that once the episode aired, Zhou Yiyu would be thrown into the center of a storm. Having a veteran like Guan Xiaoyao—backed by the national team—suddenly quit, few people accepted Zhou Yiyu as the rightful champion.
"Let me tell you a joke. Chu Zhi competed on I Really Am a Singer and didn't win. Zhou Yiyu did."
"Don't drag Jiu-yé into this. A few years ago, Jiu-yé's singing was still only average, yet his votes were higher than Teacher Ming Zhi's. Truly baffling."
"This show is done for, I'm telling you."
"No way there's no shady deal. I refuse to believe it. Something must have happened behind the scenes for Teacher Guan to withdraw."
These were just some of the voices online. At first, fans tried explaining, but soon enough many became aggressive and fought back.
"What's wrong with Yiyu winning? The music scene needs fresh talent."
"Why so nostalgic for the past? Is it really that hard to admit someone else is excellent?"
With the help of her fans, Zhou Yiyu quickly climbed onto the trending searches. Most passersby weren't interested in arguing with hardcore fans; they were only online to have fun. The result was that the fans seemed victorious.
But her public favorability plummeted. That was reflected in the mocking nicknames people gave her.
"These people don't understand a thing." The badminton boy muttered angrily as he read the comments, his face turning pale.
"What cheating? What shady deal? My championship title is perfectly legitimate, isn't it? The company didn't tamper with the votes, right?" Zhou Yiyu looked up and asked.
His agent, Brother Zhan, shook his head. "No tampering."
To be clear, Zhou Yiyu's current popularity wasn't worth the enormous resources it would take for Taiyang Chuanhe to manipulate Mango TV into fixing the result.
Besides, who would dare mess with someone of Guan Xiaoyao's seniority? Everyone knew Guan Xiaoyao had asthma and other chronic conditions.
"Then why doesn't the company just release a statement?" Zhou Yiyu pressed. "Just say our voting data was completely clean."
Did the numbers really matter? Brother Zhan knew too well: I Really Am a Singer was supposed to be a competition of vocal skill. The fact that a traffic-driven idol beat a national team singer without any shady deals was the real problem.
That was the fatal flaw. The live finals depended entirely on audience voting—an absurd setup.
It didn't matter whether Zhou Yiyu's name was Zhou or Zhao. He had become the scapegoat, the lightning rod for the public's frustration with "traffic stars."
#SingerKingZhouYiyu# trended for two days straight, until another "good Samaritan" diverted attention. That "savior" was a D-list celebrity, and everyone knew when such a star hit the trending list, it always meant an ugly scandal was about to explode. The industry was in constant turmoil.
Among the gossip crowd, Wang Yuan's cheeks were puffed up from all the "melon-eating," but a few comments stood out to her.
Yan Xinmiaosen Gui: "What I always thought was the bare minimum turned out to be the ceiling for most celebrities. The industry's really messy. If only more stars were like Chu Zhi."
Cold Crow Youth V: "I'm afraid brother Jiu might get exposed someday. If brother Jiu really had a scandal, I'd cry myself to death."
Flower Season Gentleman: "Even if the sky fell, Jiu-yé would be fine. I only worry about Jiu-yé's health. North of the Yangtze he's the most beautiful, south of the Yangtze he's the most manly!"
"What nonsense. A-Jiu is one of a kind, the purest stream in this industry." Wang Yuan muttered to herself.
As for the "exposure" the commenter worried about—Wang Yuan, who doubled as both assistant manager and protective "mom-fan," could guarantee one thing:
Xiao Jiu had no scandals to be exposed.
Sometimes, she even felt that Chu Zhi should be allowed a little more private space of his own.
After scrolling through, Wang Yuan resumed her daily anti-blackwork. Chu Zhi's public favorability was extremely high, but many overseas accounts—from the United States, Australia, and elsewhere—always tried to smear him whenever they sensed an opening.
"Obviously inflating numbers," "He looks fake at first glance." No evidence, just vague insinuations. Their intentions were clear.
After handling those, it was nearly lunchtime. She used the last bit of her break to check the daily international sales reports.
It wasn't just her. Checking sales figures had become a habit for almost everyone at Aiguo Company recently. Everyone was silently hoping the album would break five million.
Take Qi Qiu for instance. He had personally bought thirteen copies online to give to his siblings.
In the junior-high to college age range, even if you weren't a fan, gifting a Chu Zhi album wasn't out of place.
Brave Niu bought more than twenty to share with her friends. Old Qian purchased ten. Among the staff, Wang Yuan was the top buyer. All of it was genuine support, not a forced "voluntary pay cut" disguised as loyalty.
This showed clearly how the employees viewed Chu Zhi.
As always, Emperor Beast was good at maintaining relationships. Out of over two hundred staff, he remembered every employee's name, and kept track of birthdays for middle managers and above.
It was just as much work as before he had "traveled here," but far harder to achieve. Yet he made the effort.
It was proof that his brain injury had left real traces.
"Even if we don't hit five million, Sister Niu, we'll definitely reach it with the next album. We've opened up the Western market already. Don't put too much pressure on yourself." Chu Zhi spoke gently, knowing Niu Jiangxue had been shuttling between Japan and South Korea for promotional work these past few days.
"No. This album must pass five million." Niu Jiangxue's tone was firm. "We invested sixty million into production and global promotion. The quality is top-notch. With five million sales, we can declare you a world-class artist without any question."
Most of the budget had gone into worldwide marketing. The songs had been well-received.
Chu Zhi could hear the determination in her voice. He himself didn't feel as strongly about the number, but Niu Jiangxue's career vision was clear.
"In Japan and Korea, most fans who want to buy already have. So let's arrange showcases in Indonesia, Malaysia, Turkey, and Pakistan. Those markets still have potential."
Since the core team was desperate to break five million, he couldn't dampen their morale. He offered his own solution.
"Four countries? Brother Chu, your schedule is already packed. If you carve out time for this—"
"I've got plenty of energy right now. Sister Niu, make the arrangements." Chu Zhi said firmly.
In finance, "roadshow" meant investment promotion. In entertainment, it was the same: going on programs to promote.
"Maybe we can skip Pakistan. Their record industry is weak." Niu Jiangxue hesitated.
"When someone becomes famous, every action is scrutinized, and the responsibilities get heavier," Chu Zhi explained. "Besides, I'm the chief cultural advisor for the Ministry of Tourism. Pakistan has always been friendly with us."
She still thought it was excessive. Roadshows weren't political affairs.
"It's not a big deal. It's right next door anyway," Chu Zhi added.
"Alright. I'll arrange it right away," Niu Jiangxue said.
When she hung up, she took a deep breath. For the first time, she realized something: Brother Chu always shouldered everything himself.
The firefighter's anthem, the anti-discrimination protest, the anti-drug songs… None of those were things he had to involve himself in, yet he always stepped forward without hesitation.
After a long silence, Niu Jiangxue began working on the four-country roadshow plan. As the lead manager, all she could do was ensure everything was in place.
While she was busy, Chu Zhi rushed into the studio to record the theme song, "Love Like the Tide." The new recording booth was unfamiliar, and he needed some time to adjust.
Speaking of recordings, why hadn't Legend, the movie he sang for, been released yet? Emperor Beast was still waiting for the feedback. That project should be powerful.
By the time he finished, it was afternoon, and his stomach was growling. He grabbed a quick bite.
He had to head for the Beijing University Student Film Festival. Even though he was primarily a singer, with Shiyi Lang under his belt, he was more than qualified to serve as an award presenter.
"Labor Day, huh? Only people useless to the nation get time off. Pillars of society like me have to work overtime."
Chu Zhi tried to console himself. It didn't help. He had planned to take two days off during Labor Day, after working nonstop since the beginning of the year. He was exhausted.
But with the four-country roadshow, that break was gone.
"Next time, during National Day, I'll make up for it. Double it. Four full days." He muttered under his breath. "Next time for sure."
"I'll remember that, Jiu-yé," Ma Weihao said from the backseat, massaging Chu Zhi's shoulders. He had overheard.
"This back of yours—you always complain about shoulder and waist pain. No wonder. Long flights, sitting ten hours at a time, then rushing straight into events that last hours. Without proper rest, how could it not hurt?" Ma Weihao seized the chance to nag.
"If it really gets bad, at least do some exercise. What about the workout plan I gave you? Fifteen minutes a day. Have you been sticking with it?"
"Of course," Chu Zhi said firmly.
Seeing the determined look in his eyes, Ma Weihao believed him, and dropped the subject.
Soon, the car pulled up to the Olympic Sports Center, the venue for the ceremony.
That was Emperor Beast's effort. Now, what about Sister Niu's?
With "Asian Superstar" attached to her artist's name, doors opened easily. She had no trouble booking shows; in fact, she could take her pick. In the end, she chose four relatively lighthearted variety programs:
Indonesia's national hit I Can See Your Voice, Malaysia's XUAN Model Student, Turkey's Got Talent, and Pakistan's long-running Coca-Cola Studio.
In each, Chu Zhi would appear as a surprise guest, a special team member, a guest judge, and a performing singer.
Among them, I Can See Your Voice was especially interesting. Produced by MNC, the largest broadcaster in Southeast Asia, the show had already run for five seasons.
Its concept? Imported from South Korea. Once again, the Koreans proved endlessly inventive when it came to variety formats.
The program's flow was simple: the show invited contestants, and celebrity guests had to guess whether they were hidden vocal masters or completely tone-deaf.
Everyone knew MNC TV was located in the south of Jakarta, Indonesia, right next to the Senayan shopping mall. Anyone who had ever visited Jakarta would know it.
"The director said today's surprise guest is a really big name," said assistant Azan.
Jusuf Susan let out a soft "oh" and showed little interest. She had already reached her peak at thirty-eight, becoming Indonesia's undisputed national diva.
She was the centerpiece of the program. Could there really be a guest more surprising than her?
Impossible. It didn't make sense.
After finishing her makeup, Jusuf Susan waited in the lounge. Half an hour later, an assistant director from the production team came by to go over the script for the show.
Jusuf Susan, the diva that she was, barely spared him a glance. She only replied now and then with a half-hearted hum. The assistant didn't dare show the slightest dissatisfaction.
The difference in status was obvious even in their clothes. The assistant wore plain jeans and a wrinkled shirt, while Indonesia's diva sat there in a white belted dress decorated with black clover and star motifs. It didn't look spectacular, but it was expensive.
"'Roar'? That works." Jusuf Susan nodded in satisfaction. The song was popular, not too difficult, and just right for showcasing her vocal skills.
The format of the variety show was simple: contestants disguised themselves, and if they fooled the panel, they could pick a guest to sing with. As one of the permanent guests, Jusuf Susan often used this as a chance to flaunt her singing.
Just as the assistant was about to leave, Jusuf Susan said casually, "Next time, get me a different makeup artist."
The assistant didn't dare ask why. If she wanted it changed, it would be changed.
Once he left, Jusuf Susan wiped off her lipstick. The shade chosen by the show's makeup artist didn't suit her at all. Chanel No. 420 only made her look older.
And aging was a subject Jusuf Susan was extremely sensitive about.
Half an hour later, filming began.
Contestants went on stage one after another, some plain-looking, some more striking. The panel of guests discussed each one.
"He looks like someone with talent."
"Not necessarily. The show has invited plenty of people who looked talented but were actually nobodies."
"Trust me, he's got a good vocal quality."
"He definitely can't sing."
The chatter went on.
The live guests included singers and entertainers, and they all played up the variety-show atmosphere. For example, they unanimously decided the second contestant must be tone-deaf, since his voice was raspy and he fumbled through every question.
But then he opened his mouth to sing—and stunned everyone. He was a natural powerhouse.
Jusuf Susan's eyes widened. She even shouted, "He really sings so well!"
Audiences loved moments like these, when the guests looked completely unprepared and shocked. The production team knew exactly how to push those buttons.
Over two hundred people filled the studio audience. These were the moments they lived for, the part of the show that sent the energy soaring.
It was like the Cinderella story—predictable, yet always irresistible.
Finally, the last contestant went on stage. He was tall and handsome.
"My name is Habib. I'm currently an actor."
"What university did you graduate from?" asked Ridwan, the liveliest of the panelists, known for his goofy face and constant appearances on variety shows.
"Surakarta Institute of the Arts," Habib answered.
Gasps rippled through the audience. The Surakarta Institute of the Arts was Indonesia's only prestigious arts university, even ranked among the world's top fifty in film and music.
For the entertainment world, that was an impressive background.
"You're an actor? What have you been in?" asked Jusuf Susan.
Habib listed four or five dramas, but they were all minor roles with little screen presence.
The other guests questioned him further. From his answers, it was clear he was still new to the industry, barely out of school, just starting to find his footing.
The guests discussed among themselves:
"Actors are usually multi-talented. I think he can sing."
"From my experience, whenever the show brings in a handsome guy, he's usually tone-deaf."
"Or maybe the show knows we think that, so they planted a surprise?"
"Or maybe they're trying to trick us by using reverse psychology."
"Are we getting stuck in a spiral of suspicion here?"
With full confidence, Jusuf Susan declared, "Allah gave him good looks, and the ability to act. But singing too? Impossible."
Her role as the "clueless diva" was steady, and she knew how to play it for the cameras.
The guests voted. Three believed Habib could sing, the other four didn't.
Then Habib began to sing "Come Over," a song that had gone viral in Indonesia recently. His performance wasn't just good—it was leagues above karaoke level. He knew how to find resonance and emotion in the music.
"No way! He studied acting at Surakarta Institute, but he can sing too? That's unbelievable!" shouted Jusuf Susan.
Ridwan burst out laughing. "Hahaha! I knew it. My gut told me he could sing, and he's amazing—on par with professional singers!"
The others piled on praise as well. "I couldn't sing like that at his age," "I love his voice," "So good," "He's a singer trapped in an actor's body."
With that, Habib had won the round.
When asked to choose a duet partner, he picked Jusuf Susan.
She stood to join him for a rendition of "Roar."
🎵 "I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath…" 🎵 Habib started, his English carrying a slight accent.
🎵 "Scared to rock the boat and make a mess…" 🎵 Jusuf Susan followed smoothly.
But as always, the difference showed the moment they sang together. Jusuf Susan's professionalism crushed him completely—her technique, emotional delivery, and tone were all on a higher level.
Then, midway through the song, a powerful and captivating male voice suddenly rang out:
🎵 "Now I'm floating like a butterfly, stinging like a bee, I earned my stripes…" 🎵
🎵 "I went from zero to my own hero…" 🎵
The voice was familiar. Jusuf Susan's mind was racing to place it when, suddenly, someone in the audience squealed like a pig being slaughtered.
The stage lights swung toward the figure walking out from backstage.
It was Chu Zhi, the original singer of "Roar," the superstar himself.
The two hundred-plus audience members were all entertainment fans. Eighty percent of them recognized Chu Zhi at a glance and screamed.
"Chu Zhi?!"
"It's really him!"
"I can't believe this!"
"Am I seeing Chu Zhi, alive, walking, singing in front of me?"
"It has to be him. No one else could look like that."
Chu Zhi's looks were impossible to copy, even with plastic surgery. Fans knew it.
Even the panel of six celebrity guests were left slack-jawed.
Ridwan blurted out, "Are you kidding me? Our little variety show actually invited Chu Zhi?!"
Before, their "shocked reactions" had been mostly for show. But now their eyes were wide as saucers, their disbelief genuine.
The production team had really pulled out all the stops.
"This… this is the surprise guest?" Jusuf Susan finally understood. Allah above, this was too shocking.
🎵 "You held me down, but I got up…" 🎵 Chu Zhi continued seamlessly.
As a diva, Jusuf Susan was used to big stages. She steadied her nerves and sang back: 🎵 "Already brushing off the dust…" 🎵
Habib, on the other hand, was completely lost. Singing with his country's top diva had already made him nervous. Now he was standing beside Chu Zhi, and so close he could feel his presence. Who on earth could handle that?
"Ah—" Habib could only stammer incoherently, staring blankly as Jusuf Susan and Chu Zhi sang together. His brain had completely shut down.
On that stage, Chu Zhi was the absolute center. Jusuf Susan's skill still shone, but in front of an international star, her light seemed dim.
When the song ended, Chu Zhi smiled and said, "I'm your surprise guest, Chu Zhi."
The two hundred audience members clapped so hard it nearly shook the ceiling. It sounded like two thousand people were applauding.
"I love your new album!"
"This surprise is incredible!"
"The moment Chu Zhi walked out, my heart almost stopped!"
"My God, this isn't a dream, right?"
The excitement filled the room.
Afterward, Chu Zhi chatted briefly in Chinese and promoted his album. But the eyes of both guests and audience never left him—not even Jusuf Susan's.
Because before being a diva, she was a fan too.
Chu Zhi's tour across four countries had paid off. When the episode aired two weeks later, his album sales skyrocketed. Even in smaller markets like Pakistan, sales grew explosively.
The album sold an additional 160,000 copies. Everyone at the company—Niu Jiangxue, Boss Wang, and the rest—was overjoyed.
In the music industry, image might matter, but album sales were still the ultimate standard. That was why Chu Zhi could dominate even over top Korean boy groups like GZ, shattering their records. GZ had boasted three albums over four million, two over five million, and several at two million. But Chu Zhi had just joined their ranks with real numbers.
Looking further back, why was Michael Jackson undisputed as the King of Pop? Because "Thriller" alone had sold over 67 million copies, more than double the runner-up. With sales like that, no one could touch him.
That was why Niu Jiangxue and the team had been so obsessed with reaching five million. In the 21st century, aside from American stars and a handful of top Korean groups, few in Asia had ever done it. Chu Zhi was one of the rare exceptions.
By the end of the Asian tour, his album The One Gazed Upon by Gods had sold 3.78 million across Asia in a single month, plus 1.26 million in Europe and North America, totaling 5.04 million.
At the same time, a young Hollywood diva's album had sold 4.17 million.
In terms of numbers, Chu Zhi had won.
===
"爱如潮水" (Ài rú cháoshuǐ / Love Like the Tide), originally sung by Zhang Xin Zhe (张信哲 / Zhang Xinzhe).
"传奇" (Chuánqí / Legend) refers to the song written by Li Jian (李健) and made famous by Faye Wong (王菲 / Wang Fei).
"过来" (Guòlái / "Come Over") – popular Indonesian song at the time. To be honest, I'm not sure if this is real title. But in my impression if I read "Come Over" is Meraih Bintang by Via Vallen it was official song of ASIAN GAMES 2018. Because one of the lyric say "Yo, yo. Ayo" meaning "Come, Come On" or something like that. Or maybe it was refenced another song or even fictional song? I'm not sure.