Ōmori Gento reacted the fastest. He immediately notified the backstage staff and called for the medical team.
At any large event, a medical team is a necessity. However, for this talent show grand finale, there was only one medical staff member on duty.
The project manager of the event's contractor, Fujimoto Shoki, worked alongside the on-site supervisors, swiftly controlling the atmosphere. His decisive movements prevented panic from breaking out.
A few minutes later, a middle-aged man in a white coat reached the five collapsed audience members: four women and one man.
Chu Zhi felt restless. He wanted badly to know what had happened to his fans, but stepping down from the stage, even under the current circumstances, carried risks. The afterglow of the performance still lingered in the crowd, and he could not guarantee that his sudden appearance wouldn't stir up even stronger reactions.
After a preliminary check, the doctor said, "Ōmori-san, Chu-san, these five audience members' emotions are in an overly heightened state. Their brains aren't getting enough blood. For details, we'll need proper equipment at the nearest hospital."
"There's no danger to their lives, right?" Chu Zhi pressed.
"At present, the likelihood is low," the doctor replied carefully. "But further checks are necessary. We need to rule out conditions like hypertension."
Good. Chu Zhi now had a clearer understanding of the true power behind his Voice of Seduction.
Onstage, with charisma amplified, its impact was like a fox spirit casting a spell on the spot. Chu Zhi muttered to himself: "this had to be used with caution. At the very least, the medical team should always be on standby."
Ōmori Gento eased his guard. He had already been preparing to negotiate with reporters. If anything serious happened, the most important thing was to keep the news from leaking.
Standing tall, Ōmori Gento addressed the crowd. "Everyone, please rest assured. These five audience members fainted only because their emotions were overly excited during the performance. We will immediately send them to the hospital. All medical expenses will be covered. Sony Records and Chu-san both take social responsibility very seriously, so…"
The long string of words that followed was nothing but filler. The key was in the first explanation.
So that's what happened.
Translate, translate, what makes a big news story?
Translate again: what the heck counts as huge news!
The reporters from Yahoo Video and Japan's number one video site, Niconico, understood at once. They quickly adjusted their camera angles to something more appropriate. If they weren't present, people really might have suspected the organizers had staged the fainting spell just for hype.
The kicker? One of the five who fainted was a man. Beauty truly was dangerous.
"Ah, so that's the case."
"That's over the top. Sure, the Ragdoll is stunning, but fainting?"
"Clearly new fans. We old ones know the Ragdoll's charm already."
"Chu-dono is humanity's gift from the world."
Chatter rippled through the hall. Among the 1,800 audience members, a few quietly lowered their heads, discreetly taking tissues or handkerchiefs from their pockets.
Some had nosebleeds from listening to the song. For an individual, that was humiliating enough, but for it to happen publicly… it was mortifying.
Exaggerated? Not exactly. Excitement stimulates the sympathetic nervous system, raising blood pressure and speeding up blood flow. The nasal blood vessels are fragile, so nosebleeds are easily triggered by exercise, anxiety, or emotional surges. Of course, phrased like this, it still sounded exaggerated.
"The heart of the stage is expression. From that perspective, the performance just now was top-tier. It was like a birdlike beauty among chrysanthemums, petals crimson with slender green filaments. Graceful, like a beauty dancing!" praised Nishikura Daisuke.
"Nishikura-san is right," added the section chief.
"Seriously? Do you only know how to say that one line? From start to finish, just repeating a single phrase counts as work now?" Nishikura Daisuke was speechless.
The planning department's section chief ignored Nishikura's look. What artists thought was irrelevant. He cared more about the executive director's every movement. And right now, Ōmori Gento's eyes gleamed with a peculiar light.
Question: What did that peculiar light mean?
Answer: It represented not natural radiance, but an artificial gleam. It symbolized the capitalist's materialistic view of the world. In their eyes, light was not hope but the glint of price tags.
Fair enough. The section chief had a sharp sense for reading the room. He leaned closer. "Director Ōmori, I'll arrange the publicity immediately."
Ōmori Gento shot him a look that meant "you've got promise." He said, "Work with Yahoo and Niconico. Have them push it with their resources."
A stage that could make people faint—this would be the perfect opening shot for the new album.
The five fans were carried into the waiting ambulance. Fortunately, Yoyogi Arena was less than two kilometers from Tokyo Central Hospital, which was why the ambulance had arrived so quickly.
Order was restored, and the final stage closed with Chu Zhi and eight contestants singing together.
All 1,795 audience members left the venue in good order under Fujimoto Shoki's management. Nothing unexpected cropped up.
A real talent. Methodical and efficient.
Chu Zhi wondered if he should recruit him. AiGuo Company was expanding and in need of capable people. His thoughts were cut short by Ōmori Gento approaching.
"Chu-san, can this song be included in the new album?" After a few pleasantries, he got to the point.
"It's not suitable," Chu Zhi shook his head. "The theme of this song doesn't align with the album's concept. Including it would ruin the cohesion."
"Then release it as a single," Ōmori Gento suggested. "This song will definitely become a golden single."
In Japan, a "golden single" meant one that reached number one on the Billboard single chart for four consecutive weeks, while also staying on the chart for twenty-four consecutive weeks. Both conditions had to be met.
Because the standard was so strict, only a handful had ever earned the title. Even a giant like Sony Music held just eleven golden singles.
"If not a single, then at least release the audio online," Ōmori Gento pressed further. He had risen to his current position precisely because he was a master at "reading the air." Seeing Chu Zhi's reluctance, he lowered the demand again.
Good grief, Chu Zhi realized what was happening. This was the "foot-in-the-door" technique. He had been about to reject outright with the excuse of needing to film an MV, but before he could, Ōmori Gento had lowered his ask again.
"It could debut at number one on Billboard's digital downloads, streaming, and discovery charts simultaneously," Ōmori Gento insisted, pressing even harder.
Japan's Billboard charts were an official localized branch of America's Billboard, run by Hanshin Content Link. The system had been a successful adaptation.
At least they had a "hot anime song" chart, something the US never established.
Chu Zhi wasn't unfamiliar with Billboard. He had spent over fifty cumulative weeks on the overseas hot songs chart for three consecutive years, even tiring of seeing his name on the annual charts.
"Then I'll trouble Director Ōmori with arranging a studio," Chu Zhi finally agreed.
"Of course, leave it to me," Ōmori Gento replied at once.
The event over, Chu Zhi didn't fly back to China immediately. Tomorrow, he had a shoot in Yokohama for Kenzo Takada's fashion brand. Scheduling hadn't been a coincidence; Lao Qian had negotiated with the brand to move filming up by half a month.
Getting a sponsor to change their timetable was a privilege only for top stars. For now, Chu Zhi would stay one night in Tokyo.
They checked into Tokyo Grand Hotel, near Azabu-Jūban and Ginza. The hotel was once a prime choice for foreign guests. Back in the 90s, when Japanese dramas swept across Asia, it often appeared on screen. But by the 2010s, stepping inside was like watching the filter vanish. The decor felt outdated.
Fujimoto Shoki, who handled Chu Zhi's logistics in Japan, accompanied him through check-in.
"What's this?" Chu Zhi asked in the elevator, noticing something curious.
"That's an emergency toilet," Fujimoto Shoki explained. "If an earthquake causes the elevator to stop, it can serve as backup."
"The toilet contains compressed biscuits, water, and other supplies—enough to keep ten people alive for three days."
Even if it was practical, Chu Zhi still found the concept of a food-filled toilet strange.
"What's your position at the company now?" Chu Zhi asked, switching topics.
"I'm an external staff member," Fujimoto Shoki answered. "Because my dream is to be a manga artist."
"Interested in joining my company?" Chu Zhi offered. "If you do, you could head our Japan branch."
"No need to answer now. Think it over carefully."
Fujimoto Shoki opened his mouth but held back what he wanted to say.
He escorted Chu Zhi to his room door before leaving.
"Anywhere nearby good to eat?" Chu Zhi asked casually.
"Would you prefer Japanese or Western cuisine?" Fujimoto Shoki asked first. Chu Zhi answered Japanese, but not teppanyaki or kaiseki.
He recommended Ginza Michelin restaurants Toyoda, RyuGin, and Okuda. RyuGin was three-star.
Chu Zhi chose RyuGin. Normally, a Michelin three-star restaurant required bookings months in advance, but since Fujimoto Shoki had recommended it, he clearly had connections.
After a shower, Chu Zhi received the confirmation message for RyuGin. He dressed and went to Chiyoda's Yurakuchō district for the meal.
The restaurant combined molecular gastronomy with Japanese cuisine, even presenting the daily menu in envelopes to add ceremony.
Sea urchin sashimi, olive beef, fig foie gras…
The price was high, but the taste? Honestly average. Maybe Chu Zhi simply wasn't cut out for gourmet food.
Afterward, he still went to Gyoza no Ōshō to satisfy his carb cravings.
On the way back, he passed a claw machine. Chu Zhi stopped, remembering how during the filming of You Who Came from the Stars, he had tried but failed because the machine's claw was faulty.
This time, he wouldn't lose. Men always found strange places to get competitive.
He exchanged about fifty coins and managed to catch a plush. "A lonely master," he declared.
The next morning.
Chu Zhi contacted Ōmori Gento early and headed to the studio to record Explosive and Combustible.
There was no live audience, so to maintain the performance's intensity and atmosphere, Chu Zhi unleashed sixty percent of his Voice of Seduction.
The effect? Not exaggerated at all—every staff member outside the recording booth forgot what they were doing, frozen as they stared at Chu Zhi behind the glass.
That afternoon, he flew to Yokohama to shoot Kenzo Takada's fashion ad. Because of the sudden rescheduling, the client's preparations had been inadequate, leading to logistical hiccups. Chu Zhi didn't finish shooting until three in the morning.
A day later, the videos aired on Niconico and Yahoo Video…