The Hex King was casting spells in real life.
What should we do? I'm online, waiting urgently!
Even rational host Huang Youru had tears in her eyes after hearing the song.
The colleague beside her, Wei Tongzi—who had pretended to stay composed—couldn't hold back her tears.
No one at the fan festival was immune. Over two hundred female fans were either teary-eyed or openly sobbing.
Some were moved, others torn at their hearts. The sixty or so male fans felt something too:
"Using this kind of approach—man, I'm actually touched."
"🎵 Thank you for giving me glory, every one of you is my great hero 🎵—that praise hits me so deep."
Huang Youru cleared her throat. "Ahem, Chu Teacher, is this song really what you want to say to your fans?" She spoke calmly to hide the quiver in her voice. Who could resist a star writing a song for fans?
An unexpected thought crossed her rational mind: "Investing in this celebrity… totally worth it."
"I'm not good with words, so I put everything into the song," Chu Zhi said. "Meeting you all was the luckiest thing that's happened to me."
A running joke in show biz was that the idol Emperor Beast could't articulate feelings. But at that moment, no one doubted him. Li Minjia yelled from the crowd, "Meeting Brother Jiu is my greatest luck!"
Her words lit a spark. Soon the entire audience chanted it together.
The reaction was wild—like pouring a bucket of water into hot oil, the livestream chat exploded:
"Sob sob sob QAQ Brother Jiu, you're going to be the greatest superstar"
"Protect the best person in the world, Chu Zhi"
"A song written for us, I'm crying"
"Brother Jiu bowed… I can't help it"
"🎵 Thank you for giving me glory, that once‑ordinary youth… 🎵 Brother Jiu, you're not ordinary, you're the one and only"
"Glory—our Little Fruits have their own song now. We'll be okay."
Fans felt proud and heartbroken at once.
High-level executives from other companies were lurking on the Orange Orchard app. Seeing the scale of the moment—especially those with high-profile idols—they felt their scalps go numb. Was this overkill? Some had investigated and found there was no sponsorship involved. They were paying out of pocket, even writing a new song. What was this—intentional crushing competition?
Many idols were frustrated. This was pure fan-building. They realized the gap between them and Chu Zhi was too wide. As Ministry Head Triple‑Chin from Dahua's PR department sighed, "What's their strategy? Taiyang Chuanhe never pulled off anything like this before. Is Chu Zhi collecting every fangirl in the fandom?"
They didn't need a complex formula. Everyone knew the team would promote it heavily. The buzz would explode naturally.
Not compared to idols like Shen Yun, Su Yiwu, Wu Tang, or Li Fei—or any K‑group. None came close.
There were still final venue tasks at the expo center. Chu Zhi announced, "Tonight we have the Orange Orchard Banquet—next door at the Wyndham Grand. You've all played hard, now dinner's on me. Eat well."
Fans raised their eyebrows—unlimited snacks just hours ago, and dinner too?
The invitation email had said dinner would be provided, but they assumed that'd be light refreshments.
Wyndham Grand was just a short walk away. Its banquet hall could host hundreds of tables, but he reserved thirty—at 1,588 yuan per table.
In Shancheng, that was top-tier dining—nothing extravagant or overly luxurious, but clearly high quality.
Chu Zhi arranged seating for the 300 attendees, then slipped back to the expo to handle final details—he was too busy to eat.
"Wang-jie, this fan festival has been exhausting. You handled everything," Chu Zhi said gratefully.
"You're the one who's done everything, Brother Jiu," Wang Yuan answered. "You should go eat. I've got this handled."
"Two people get things done faster than one," Chu Zhi smiled. "I'm not hungry. I just came to check in."
At the expo, half the snacks remained. A sign read, "Finish what you open." The Little Fruits had lived up to expectations—very little waste.
"They can fit in a mini backpack," Chu Zhi said, picking up one of the custom orange-and-black daypacks—no visible brand, just the small Orchard logo.
"We'll pack two cans of chips, one jar of plums, then fill it with crackers and senbei," he calculated.
"Sounds about right." Wang Yuan nodded, "Three drinks per person."
Staff sprang into action, packing snacks and inserting custom notebooks into each bag.
In fifty minutes, all the goodies were ready. Meanwhile, dinner was winding down at Wyndham Grand.
Each attendee received a backpack after eating. Wei Xuan, ever the quick one, grabbed his first—completely packed with treats.
"Notebook and backpack as souvenirs? Free dinner and snacks? Could this get any better?" He had never experienced such luck in his life.
He remembered some hesitated earlier—skipped the prize wheel, left snacks behind. Now, everyone had a gift bag.
"It's too thoughtful. This kind of detail... it's not something you just think of on a whim," Wei Xuan murmured, understanding why fans were drawn in by Chu Zhi so wholeheartedly.
As buses departed or fans summoned rides, the fan festival finally closed. This was the first time the event had been done—Chu Zhi stayed until the last bus left before he could relax.
"I'm starving. It's late; I need my beauty sleep," Wang Yuan decided against eating more.
"Wang-jie, haven't eaten yet? I got Xiao Zhu and the others to join us for a late snack. You've earned it," Chu Zhi invited.
"Sure." Wang Yuan didn't hesitate. Beauty sleep could wait.
For 300 Little Fruits, this was an evening they'd never forget.
Not everyone would post about it, but at least 99 percent would—and some had already shared before dinner even ended.
Free round‑trip flights, a free banquet, endless snacks—and personalized souvenirs. What kind of god‑tier fan event was this?