"I have a friend who's nominating me for Party membership and also recommending me for the 'Top Ten Outstanding Youth of Modu' award. The ceremony is at the end of June. I'll need you to coordinate a few things," Chu Zhi said.
"..."Niu Jiangxue lowered her head and fiddled with her phone, likely looking up details about the award.
This was getting interesting. Was Chu Ge being scammed? That was her first instinct.
Looking at past winners, the only one even remotely connected to music was a traditional Chinese instrumentalist. Not a single pop singer, not even an opera vocalist, had ever made the list. It was an honor completely removed from the entertainment industry.
Who had enough influence to shift the Youth League's decisions?
"Who's this friend of yours?" Niu asked tactfully. She didn't question the Party membership part—Chu Zhi's parents were martyrs, so background checks wouldn't be an issue.
"Don't worry, they're legit. Southern Media is giving me two awards. One is for my musical accomplishments, the other is thanks to this friend introducing me to their editor-in-chief," Chu Zhi replied. He'd decided to trust Sister Niu, so he was open about it.
Chu Zhi was never the type to shy away from using connections. Even if he had relied solely on talent, his upcoming East-West fusion album, following the success of his debut Chinese-style project, would still win him major music awards. But thanks to Big White's introduction, he had just saved himself an entire year of waiting.
From Voice of Gen Z, to Mandopop's Standard-Bearer, to Asian Music Star, to Asian King, to International Artist, to Global Icon, to Pop Culture Symbol, and finally, to not just a star of the era, but the era of Chu Zhi—every step was one closer. And time was not on his side, especially for the last few stages, which even he hadn't fully planned for yet.
"Huh? Chu Ge, you have a friend with that kind of influence?" Sister Niu's thoughts spiraled. Wait, did that friend also pull strings to make him the Public Security Ambassador? But if he had connections this strong, why had his earlier career been so rough?
"They really are powerful. Anyway, that's all settled," Chu Zhi said, then explained the details of his new role as a brand consultant.
Compared to his earlier news, this got an even bigger reaction from Niu Jiangxue. Since his comeback, Chu Zhi had already received multiple endorsements from official bodies. Now he was officially being backed by the state—a rare feat in the entertainment world.
Chu Zhi was getting dangerously close to surpassing the limits of China's six top-tier stars. As his lead agent, Niu Jiangxue could clearly feel the hostility from rival companies. Having an official title to back him up would scare off many of the vultures.
"Everything's coming up roses for you, Chu Ge. Honestly, you hardly even need the company's resources anymore," Niu said. She also started quietly weighing her options.
When Chu Zhi's contract expired, what terms could Taiyang Chuanhe offer to make him stay? Previously, they were valuable to him as a protective shield, but now it seemed that mysterious friend of his had far more weight than any media company could offer—especially when the Youth League was involved.
If Chu Ge quit, should she leave too? Her future looked a lot brighter following Chu Zhi.
But her uncle was the head of the talent division. Would it be ungrateful to leave? Balancing family loyalty with her own career... it wasn't easy.
Sorry, Uncle.
"Sister Niu? Sister Niu?" Chu Zhi called out, snapping her out of her thoughts.
"There are just too many hidden benefits behind being named one of Modu's Outstanding Youth," Niu said, getting back on track. "Your studio needs to expand. Let's hire two more assistants—one for brand partnerships, and one for logistics. There's way too much going on right now."
They already had over twenty people in the studio, and it still wasn't enough. Chu Zhi nodded. He had also been feeling the strain lately. Too many moving parts to manage.
The Fan Festival in July, the Voice of Gen Z campaign launching in three days, the youth award publicity at the end of the month, and the ongoing effort to establish himself as the "Father of New Chinese Pop"—none of this could be allowed to slip through the cracks.
"Hiring is up to you," Chu Zhi said. "If the new hires are capable, pay them a bit more. And let's raise our own team's salaries too. Everyone's working hard."
Raise their pay again? Sister Niu's team was already earning about 10 percent more than comparable teams in the industry. But of course, their income didn't even come close to Chu Zhi's.
Still, who would say no to a raise?
"Oh, one more thing. Make sure to remind Brother Qian, Sister Wang, and the others: if something urgent comes up, just message me directly. We'll handle work emergencies first, but no one should let the job ruin their life."
Sister Niu nodded but didn't think much of it. Everyone was so busy these days, who had time to take leave? The issue wasn't approval—it was that people like Lao Qian felt obligated to help however they could. Even Fei-ge, the most logical and stubborn among them, had worked through a serious throat infection without asking for time off.
Their conversation wrapped up, and Chu Zhi began memorizing his opening speech for the upcoming music festival.
Opening speeches are usually delivered by the event committee chair, a jury president, or at least an official ambassador. Chu Zhi fit none of those roles. He was invited purely because of his popularity. Not just big—we're talking three or four stories tall kind of big.
The so-called "University Student Music Festival" wasn't quite what the name suggested. It was more of an in-person competition, held in a semi-official capacity, backed by the National Music Industry Base, the Department of Physical Education and Art, and over 100 universities.
While waiting backstage for his cue, Chu Zhi sensed someone staring at him. He looked up and saw a familiar face: Gu Peng, the socially anxious singer he'd met at the Federation of Literary Arts.
Gu Peng pretended to look up at the same time. When their eyes met, he said quickly, "Wow, what a coincidence!"
"San-ge, are you the festival ambassador?" Chu Zhi guessed immediately. On Earth, the ambassador for the college electronic music festival was Shui Mu Nian Hua, a well-known folk band.
These kinds of events usually picked ambassadors from the campus folk music scene. Gu Peng fit the bill perfectly.
"Y-Yeah," Gu Peng nodded like a pecking chicken. He and Chu Zhi often chatted about poetry over WeChat, but in person, even carefully rehearsed lines evaporated from his mind.
"Are you giving a speech too?" Chu Zhi asked. Judging by where they were standing, it seemed like they might be in the same rotation.
So there were three speech segments: jury chair, ambassador, and special guest. Chu Zhi quickly pieced together the format.
"I have a speech written out," Gu Peng said as he reached into his jacket pocket. Wait—where was that wrinkled A4 page?
He checked his coat again. Then his wallet. Nothing. It had disappeared.
A terrible realization struck him—he'd lost his speech.
His pupils shrank in panic. For someone with social anxiety, giving a public address was already difficult. Now, with no script in hand, it was a nightmare.
He turned pale.
Chu Zhi, who had been a "social terrorist" his whole life, couldn't quite relate. But from what his socially anxious friends had told him, it was like wishing you had a drill-bit head so you could disappear into the ground.
"San-ge, call your agent and check if they have a backup. There's still time before we go on," Chu Zhi advised calmly. He glanced at his phone—only four minutes left—but giving it a vague timeframe might help ease the tension.
Gu Peng nodded and quickly made the call.
Chu Zhi wondered how Gu Peng managed to perform at shows or even appear on programs in this state. Wouldn't it wreck his ability to deliver?
When the call ended, Gu Peng still looked pale. His agent didn't have a backup. This wouldn't have happened under Sister Niu's watch—she always kept a backup of everything.
Too late now to write a new one or send over a file.