Aiguo Group was like a massive, loosely connected machine. Once you opened the main valve, the whole thing started running in sequence.
The Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos branches had already set up physical albums two days in advance. These countries didn't have many music stores; in Vietnam, there weren't even dedicated audio shops—most were just attached to bookstores.
For most people, the music market in these three countries had long been out of sync with the world. And honestly, that was mostly true. But if you looked closer, their music history hadn't always been off-track. In the sixties and seventies, European and American rock spread through the region; in the eighties and nineties, Hong Kong pop swept Southeast Asia; and after the millennium, the Korean Wave exploded to dominate. Those three periods were just barely in sync.
The branches had already secured strong partnerships with the region's largest bookstore chains. On release day, Is It Peace? filled all offline retail shelves.
That wasn't all. Diamond Shopping Center, Viken Mall, Jimao 271 Mall, Vientiane Mall—these high-traffic malls were plastered with promotional posters:
Mom's Divine Song Creator Chu Zhi · New Album Release
Did "Mother in My Dreams" make you cry?
The man who created Mother's Day is back
Other branches operated similarly in their own regions.
South Korea: "The global idol of three billion people descends!"
Malaysia: "Foreign star Malaysians love the most", "Top of FHM Thailand's Sexiest Male Stars chart every year"
Middle East: "Night in the Middle East · New Album Launch"
Japan: "Demonic composer, angel boy, child of the stars, human-life cutoff breaker, record sales emperor, live-performance god, miracle creator—Chu Zhi's new album release"
America: "Voice of Peace Chu Zhi, New Album 'Is It Peace?' on sale"
Australia: "You'll know him—the greatest Chinese person"
Europe: "The greatest singer of the pan-entertainment era Chu Zhi, new album on sale"
Every branch tailored their banners to local culture. South Korea, a tiny place, loved emphasizing "big numbers," while Japan's posters emphasized two things: giving Chu Zhi over-the-top nicknames and cramming the entire poster with text.
FHM magazine was the Thailand version of Men's Health, known for its softcore style. It mostly listed sexy female celebrities, but occasionally Thai culture let them rank men too.
"Night in the Middle East" came from a random Al Jazeera segment. They were interviewing people at night on the streets of Sharm El Sheikh, Egypt. Walking a few blocks, you could hear Chu Zhi's songs playing. Arabian Late Autumn was especially popular. It didn't reach the coverage of a Katyusha in Russia, but it was close to seventy percent.
Once the news hit online, Qi Qiu moved quickly to guide the discussion a bit. Soon, YouTube was full of videos from Saudi Arabia, Iran, Kuwait, Iraq, UAE, Oman, Qatar, and other Arab countries. People uploaded clips showing their streets at night with stores playing Chu Zhi's music, cementing the "Night in the Middle East" reputation.
Yes, people really uploaded videos, but many influencers did it just to ride the hype. Truth is, Chu Zhi was the world's hottest singer; if you wanted footage, you could find it. Interestingly, once the Arab world embraced "Night in the Middle East," more streets started playing his music—a perfect example of cause and effect reversed.
Compared to the more traditional, methodical campaigns of other branches, Aiguo's Spanish-language branch in Madrid was a different story. Whether it was extra budget or the manager's love for spectacle, in countries like Argentina, Bolivia, Chile, Colombia, Costa Rica, and Cuba, they built a massive wall in a busy district that drew constant attention. By the album release, the graffiti on the wall was done, becoming a hot topic in multiple countries.
It made a splash, but the head office calculated the cost-effectiveness—it wasn't great.
Looking at the global coordination, here's the headline:
Eight versions of Is It Peace? worldwide, first-day physical album sales hit 13.79 million copies (including online preorders).
13.79 million!
Mind-blowing!
If IFPI hadn't reported it the next day, who'd believe it? In an age where newspapers, books, magazines, and records were declining, selling a million copies in any country was a hit. Five million was legendary. Ten million? Only two albums in the last decade had done it: The One Gazed Upon by Gods and All Nations, Vol. 1.
Near-millions, around eight hundred thousand, only happened seven times in the past ten years. Two of those albums, Besieged on All Sides and Little Fruits Are Sweet, were Chu Zhi's.
Little Fruits Are Sweet had been boosted artificially. Sales hadn't even reached five hundred thousand, but because of overseas fame, the numbers were pushed up. Foreign fans of Little Fruits bought it for collection once they realized there was a dedicated album.
In this sluggish environment, selling over ten million on the first day? That was insane.
"Even in the golden age of records in the eighties and nineties, no singer sold 13 million copies on release day. This figure is scarier than Hyakki Yagyō," said Mori Genjin, seeing the IFPI report.
As a Sony executive, Mori had a more detailed report.
"Asia alone contributed 7.15 million on the first day. The region's potential has been fully tapped."
Seeing Vietnam's 230,000 first-day copies, split into 150,000 delivered and 80,000 online preorders, he felt the distribution strategy was terrifying. Last year, Vietnam's top-selling physical album barely hit 300,000.
"First-time simultaneous release of the Chinese version—1.39 million in China alone."
Mori marveled at China's numbers.
[Delivered: 140,000, Online preorders: 1.25 million]
"Chinese consumers are used to online shopping. Most copies sold online. And surprisingly, over 100,000 Little Fruits still bought them offline," Mori said.
When did Aiguo ramp up distribution to this level? Mori couldn't believe it. This capability rivaled the world's top three labels, especially with 200 million RMB global promotion.
Mori knew the reality: without channels, money couldn't be spent effectively. Aiguo even hung promotional banners in Kringlan Shopping Center in Reykjavík, Iceland.
The shock didn't stop at Sony. Warner and Universal also noticed the sales and became wary.
Of course, all the resources Chu Zhi spent on subsidiaries weren't wasted.
Aiguo hadn't done it intentionally. On December 19, the last Nobel prize of the year would be announced—the Nobel Peace Prize.