"Yesterday I walked past a street corner and saw a homeless man. I should've tossed him some change. Why do I keep dumping my misfortune on others?" Susan Kiern recalled that evening in Los Angeles. She'd had a rough day filming, and her mood had exploded. Passing by a homeless man that night, she not only didn't help but looked down on him with disdain.
She hoped that man was still around, she thought. She'd planned to return to Los Angeles tomorrow, but this song made her want to rush back right after the ceremony and make up for what she hadn't done last night.
Most Black people in the world follow Islam, but most Black Americans are Christians, including Whitehouse.
"You've all heard the saying 'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.' I'm telling you, don't fight evil with evil. If someone slaps you on the right cheek, turn the left cheek too. If someone sues you or wants to take your inner garment, let them have your outer one as well."
Whitehouse silently recited the original passage from Matthew: "If someone forces you to go one mile, go two with them…"
He treated the Bible as his guiding principle, and Chu Zhi's song made him recall his entire life, like a revolving lantern of death flashing past.
After a long moment, he looked at the singer on stage with confidence. If Chu Zhi was the embodiment of God, he could face it honestly, because he had done enough in his life.
Chu Zhi's voice carried on, the song running over seven minutes, like tossing a pebble into a still lake.
The pebble was small, but it still created ripples—and that lake represented the hearts of everyone in the audience.
Before he even left backstage, Cindy Wanda, who had just presented an award to Chu Zhi, clutched his chest.
There was something he deeply regretted in his later years, and now his conscience was ignited, a raging fire scorching him. His heart couldn't take it, and he had to take his medication to calm down a bit.
"Fuck, this song makes me feel like even swearing is a crime."
"Shit, I'm never cursing again."
"Absolutely!"
Horman felt the impact too, but what affected him more was seeing Eva Fanning beside him. She had been nominated for Best New Age Album but didn't win.
Eva couldn't hold back her tears, and it wasn't just sadness. She was Mexican, grew up very poor in Flagstaff, Arizona. The expensive tuition at the music academy was partly loans and partly support from the Mexican community, especially Uncle Alfonso, her neighbor, who had been a huge help.
Now, she was a representative of New Age music, worth tens of millions, with several albums selling over three million copies combined.
Quick note: New Age music is similar to light classical music, but the latter is more traditional, mostly piano-based, while New Age is more varied.
Once, Uncle Alfonso's daughter got leukemia, and Eva refused to lend him money—not because she didn't have it, but because she worried he couldn't repay. There was no miracle; his daughter died because he couldn't cover the medical expenses.
Now, her tears were of regret. She tried to control her expression, but the tide of emotions was unstoppable. She managed not to cry out loud, but her lower eyelash extensions quivered.
"Is this a bit over the top…" Horman thought, but then he noticed that many others in the audience were crying too.
He didn't know how many guests were shedding regretful tears like Eva Fanning, or how many, like Rumbelton, hadn't done all the good they could have.
Chu Zhi's song touched everyone, regardless of gender or age. It was a massive emotional attack, no defense possible. Just look at Maide in the third row.
Maide had been a boxer, then a famous rock singer. He was tough in every way, but now tears filled his eyes.
"Fuck, the whole Grammy stage has turned into a sea of tears. Is he even human?" Horman thought.
It was unprecedented. In nearly seventy years of Grammy history, nothing like this had ever happened.
Horman felt this performance was more historically significant than winning five trophies.
"Shit, the entire Grammys has become Chu Zhi's stage."
Human or not didn't matter. What mattered was that Chu Zhi sang with pure joy and completed the song perfectly.
🎵"We're making choices that save our lives. We really can create a better tomorrow, thanks to you and me."🎵
🎵"One world, one family, we are God's children. We really can create a better tomorrow. So, let's start giving ourselves."🎵
🎵"We're making choices that save our lives."🎵
The song ended, leaving only the faint sounds of sobbing.
"I'll give myself a nine out of ten, leaving one point for improvement," Emperor Beast thought. The live performance of We.Are.The.World surpassed even the U.S. version of Masked Singer.
Jazz Vocal Magazine's top ten best live performances from 2020–2025 were mostly rock or jazz stages, and only Chu Zhi had two performances selected, with his gospel song widely celebrated by fans worldwide. In fan circles, it was considered legendary.
And this one? God among gods.
Chu Zhi was used to quiet audiences after his performances, so he calmly set the mic down.
Milwaukee was the first to recover, a seasoned host, and he started clapping.
"Good." Milwaukee's hands were red from the applause.
That single "good" was like a signal. Standing guests began clapping in unison.
Many hadn't even wiped their eyes yet. The thunderous applause seemed ready to tear off the ceiling of the MGM theater.
"I'm grateful to witness one of the most important stages in music history."
"It'll be one of the most important moments in human history."
"No wonder he can make people lay down their guns."
"His voice affects everyone. Nobody can stay calm in front of Chu Zhi's singing."
"Once this ends, I want to donate money."
"Me too."
A brief discussion broke out among the audience. The performance was too stunning; even at the Grammy ceremony, people had to comment.
Once Chu Zhi returned to his seat, Milwaukee got back on stage, and the chatter subsided.
"If there's a god of modern pop singing, I think his name is Chu Zhi," Milwaukee said.
There were hundreds of singers here, half the best vocalists in the West gathered in one place. Even if Chu Zhi hadn't performed, calling him the god of singing would've seemed arrogant.
But now… no singer dared to question it.
Grammy chairman Thurman and vice chairman Robdrick exchanged glances, seeing the same thing: having Chu Zhi perform at the 69th Grammy Awards was the Grammys' honor.
It was like the 46th Grammy's diva Sharon Isabel, who spat blood but still finished her performance. That stage became legendary because Sharon never performed publicly again.
People remembered Sharon, and now Chu Zhi's performance was even more breathtaking.
Vice chairman Robdrick was fine with it; he was a thorough businessman. He didn't discriminate against Asians, just against the poor.
Chairman Thurman had dismissed Chinese pop as immature, never imagining he'd feel proud, even slightly, because of a Chinese singer's performance.
The core awards were over, but the ceremony wasn't finished. Lifetime Achievement Awards, Trustee Awards, technical awards, and Music Care's Person of the Year followed. Interest was low because no one had recovered from the song's emotion.
Even industry insiders reacted like this. Imagine the viewers at home.