Loneliness, drifting out of place in reality, all of it weighed on the fans' hearts.
"GZ losing to Chu Zhi is no injustice. In terms of character and ability, they cannot compare with him," muttered Song Mingxi to herself.
Last year, a scandal erupted: the leader of GZ, Lee Junseok, had his Naver cloud password cracked (his own birthday), and videos leaked of him in bed with several young female fans, including minors. To clarify, in South Korea adulthood begins at twenty, but in their age-counting system, twenty is about the same as eighteen in China.
The news dealt a devastating blow to GZ. The main vocalist, Jo Kwon, took the chance to go solo, and what was once Asia's number-one group scattered into chaos. That was why Song Minghee spoke as she did.
Song Minghee recalled the lyrics of Chu Zhi's Korean EP title track, Let It Be:
🎵 "Once again I fall into the gray, even though I've endured it countless times, I must keep holding on, because everything will pass." 🎵
The words resonated more deeply with her now.
She wept while listening to Let It Be, until her gaze fell upon her own reflection in the mirror. The woman in the glass had tears streaming down her face. Her eye makeup was smudged, but somehow she looked rather pretty. If only her eyes were a little bigger, she thought, she might be beautiful.
This sudden distraction pulled her out of the grief she felt for her idol, helping her calm down a little.
Once steady, she wanted to spend some money on her idol. After the Clouds Clear purchased thirty copies of Kimi ga Iru Koto (Because You Are Here) from Amazon.
Fearing the issue might not blow up further, the Daily Sports jumped in again, deliberately comparing past scandals in the Korean entertainment industry, such as Lee Hyunchae and Kim Binsoo, and drew a conclusion:
"Kim Binsoo drove two innocent girls and one pure-hearted boy to attempt suicide. If they had not been discovered in time, three lives would have been lost. Kim Binsoo was mentally sound yet chose to harm others. Meanwhile, Chu Zhi, though suffering from unstable mental health, used every ounce of strength to save lives. How can the difference between celebrities be so vast? The real importance lies in the reflections that this contrast provokes."
Comments followed:
"Why do our country's stars not possess even half the nobility of Chu Zhi's character?"
"I never followed entertainment news. I didn't realize the industry had so many criminals. No wonder Chu Zhi's album After the Clouds Clear moved me so deeply."
"Our entertainment environment is rotten, dirty like the Han River itself."
"Look at the stars from China, and then look at the ones filling our prisons."
And many more such remarks.
Thinking carefully, these comments felt familiar. On the Chinese internet too, some self-media outlets twist a single point and escalate it into criticism of the entire nation.
Even so, the debate brought benefits. Emperor Beast's fanbase in South Korea was mostly made up of young white-collar workers and students, with very few older fans. This incident actually brought Chu Zhi new followers in their forties. "This child is too kind," many mothers said, turning into "mom-fans."
Why put fans through so much hardship? The answer was clear in ĹŚmori Gento's profits. Sales reached 1.31 million copies in Japan within four days, and 470,000 copies in South Korea in a single day.
On Japan's Billboard charts, Kimi ga Iru Koto landed in the top three across seven lists: Hot Singles, Discovery Songs, Downloads, Best User-Created Songs, Hot Albums, Best Album Sales, and Download Albums. In four of these, it was number one.
In South Korea, it debuted at number one on Melon, Genie, and Bugs weekly charts. Kimi ga Iru Koto topped every real-time and daily chart across all streaming services, effortlessly achieving 24 Perfect All-Kills (PAK), with the record still holding.
Sony Music's coordination department released a forecast: "Three million sales in Japan, two million in South Korea, and with a healthy decline curve, total sales may surpass five million."
Mama mia! His previous English album, The One Gazed Upon by God, only managed to break five million after exhausting promotion and countless roadshows. Now a single Japanese album might do the same?
Although these were projected numbers, barring accidents, they seemed reliable.
Thirteen years earlier, the last time a Japanese diva's greatest-hits album sold over three million, it was already the end of the CD silver age.
Looking at Oricon's top 50 all-time album sales in Japan, the 20th place was just past three million. Chu Zhi had a chance to break into that ranking.
In this parallel world, Japanese album sales ceilings were lower than Earth's. On Earth, Hikaru Utada's debut album First Love alone sold over 7.6 million copies, while in this world, the highest-selling album in Japan was only around six million.
"I'll hand over the work as quickly as possible. There will be no problems."
"I won't let you down, Mr. Mitsui."
After hanging up, ĹŚmori Gento grinned so widely his smile nearly split his face. He had successfully transferred laterally to Sony Records as head of marketing. Though called a "transfer," working for Sony Records, the global giant, was nothing like staying in Sony Music Japan.
Such numbers, achieved through ruthless maneuvering, came at a price. ĹŚmori Gento had already issued public apologies. Some people apologize sincerely, while others mean, "I already said sorry, so you can't blame me anymore." Unfortunately, many Japanese executives fell into the latter category.
But even faced with ĹŚmori Gento's shamelessness, Li Guixun still managed to secure tangible benefits.
The success of Kimi ga Iru Koto didn't fade quickly. Days later, more news came.
Asahi Shimbun announced: Japan's High School Baseball Federation had chosen Don't Give Up as the entry theme for the National High School Baseball Championship at Koshien.
Kadokawa Publishing also revealed that they were considering including Don't Give Up or Even Though Our Hands Are Empty in middle school music textbooks.
(Baseball is widely referred to as "yakyū" in Japan, and some Japanese textbooks are compiled by private publishers.)
Even with Emperor Beast shining in the spotlight, his mood was not good.
"Sorry to trouble you, brother Bu." Chu Zhi ended the call.
He had just seen the South Korean news. Even a video from last New Year's, where he sang on his balcony, had been leaked. Chu Zhi decided he needed to move.
"Filmed accidentally by residents? Impossible. A casual recording would not have captured even the sound so clearly. The quality suggests professional equipment used at close range."
Only one explanation made sense: reporters had been staking out his residence. Then again, it might not be reporters, but overly obsessed fans. After all, security at his complex was strict, and it was hard for outsiders to get in. Either way, Chu Zhi decided he had to move. Being caught off guard and exposed was not the same as choosing to appear.
So Chu Zhi called his real estate contact, Bu Shangfan, to help find a new place. He had many requirements, and little time to search on his own.
He wouldn't sell his current house, though. The soundproofed practice room decorated with star and vine patterns had become famous across Asia. To call it a "celebrity residence" might be a bit much since Chu Zhi was still alive, but if opened to the public, countless fans would come.
Drawing the curtains in his living room and bedroom, Chu Zhi began to ponder the next important matter. The fourth Orange Festival was coming. What new performance should he prepare? He had originally planned to sing "Explosive and Combustible" for the fan event, but since he had already performed it earlier, he would need something fresh this time.