Men and women often resonate with different emotional triggers. In a way, male audiences tend to care more about results. If a team struggles and falls short of a championship, female fans may still be moved to tears. But if a team overcomes adversity and wins in the end, that is when male fans feel the impact.
Men are particularly sensitive to tales of heroes in decline, especially those who once defied all odds. Think of T-Mac's 13 points in 35 seconds, or Derrick Rose reaching his peak in his rookie year—both tragically undone by injuries. Those stories strike a deep chord.
This is why topics like the "Star Wall" or depression mostly move female fans or a small fraction of male fans. Even someone like Chu Zhi, being a man himself, knows that hearing a celebrity nearly got bullied to the point of suicide just makes him want to curse out a few keyboard warriors—not cry.
"I once sang a song on livestream called 'You're Not Truly Happy,'" Chu Zhi said. "Let me sing it again."
The event organizers perked up. Was this real? Chu Zhi's commercial performance fee easily ran into the millions. They scrambled to connect the side-stage screens so the audience in the back could get a proper view.
"Give me a moment," Chu Zhi said as he calmly walked offstage under the audience's gaze. He returned carrying a thermos, took two hearty gulps, and—
Inside the thermos was Maotai liquor.
Ever since earning the title "Immortal Drunkard," the ever-cautious Chu Zhi made a habit of carrying white liquor with him—some bottled, some in thermal flasks.
Also hidden in his sleeve was a small plastic pouch filled with fake blood, made from honey and red food coloring. Why did the Demon King of Stage always carry fake blood on him? No real reason. Because he could.
More seriously, it was for practical reasons. Straining his voice and poor eating habits made him prone to ulcers. Without some odd concoction or remedy on hand, something was bound to go wrong.
Gulp gulp.
Chu Zhi downed nearly 350 ml in one go. Sure, liquor can be savored slowly, but drinking it that fast just burns the throat. One day, once he had enough fame points saved, he planned to buy the "Taste Faucet Solution" from the system's shop. It would let him turn his sense of taste on or off at will.
Seven-tenths drunk—that was the level of intoxication he'd reached. On MBC's stage, five-tenths had been enough to blow minds. Today's buzz wasn't about the music festival itself. It was for the hundreds of male fans in the crowd.
Drunkenness fused with talent. It sparked through his fingertips, sharpened his senses, fine-tuned his vocal cords, and ignited an overwhelming urge to perform. Part of him wanted to shout "Bring me my halberd!" but what came out was "Could I borrow a guitar?"
His every move was clearly visible to the audience thanks to the side screens. Some people squinted—what was with the serious attitude just to drink a bit of warm water?
"Wait a sec," someone muttered, "what if there's liquor in that thermos?"
Today's college students might not be the most engaged in lectures or group projects, but when it came to food and gossip, they were all in. Many had heard of Chu Zhi's infamous stage fright.
It didn't take long to borrow a guitar, especially something as accessible as an electric one.
The instrument was beautiful. A sapphire-blue Ibanez J.Custom, with a Makassar ebony fretboard and flame maple binding, inlaid with a Tree of Life design.
"Nice guitar," Chu Zhi praised. "If I'm not mistaken, this model goes for over 20,000."
The player, a contestant named Xiao Chi, puffed up with pride. When it came to gear, he had most others beat.
"I've only seen Chu Zhi perform on shows, and he sounds decent, but I wonder if his live skills hold up," a tall, skinny contestant muttered.
"Feels like he sings with emotion, but technique-wise, he's a bit behind Li Xingwei, Lin Xia, and Gu Peng," added another early-balding contestant.
"I think he's pretty solid," Xiao Chi chimed in. In his heart, he agreed with the others. Chu Zhi probably wasn't as skilled as Gu Peng. But now that Chu Zhi was holding his guitar, he thought it best to change his opinion.
"You should ask him for a signature on that guitar later," the tall one nudged.
Xiao Chi didn't reply. He wasn't a fan of getting instruments marked up with random doodles.
Chu Zhi still had plenty of great songs to perform. Why this one? For starters, the arrangement was simple. Pop rock with electric guitar might lose some depth in sound layering, but with seven-tenths drunk and in god-tier mode, whether it was a solo or vocal work, he could still make the crowd go wild.
"Let's begin," he said.
The strum of guitar strings. Then Chu Zhi sang:
Crying in the crowd, all you wanted was to fade into the background. You no longer dream, or ache, or flutter with excitement. You've already decided. You've already decided...
His past rendition had focused more on the idea of not being happy. Today, he layered in the tone of an angel's hymn—heaven's voice making its true debut.
Even in sorrow, even when shaped by a cruel environment, his voice still leaned toward hope.
Why do people believe in God? To belong. To find comfort. To hold onto light in the darkness.
The world laughs, so you laugh along to fit in. When survival is the rule, not the choice, you walk on with tears in your eyes, drifting, stumbling, and crashing forward.
Each pluck of the strings struck something deep in the crowd. Thanks to his mastery of emotional singing, Chu Zhi had built a style uniquely his own.
The line "stumbling and crashing forward" was the emotional peak in Mayday's original, with a mix of chest and head voice stretching from G4 to A4 to G4. That alone was tough—G4 is the start of high notes for most men, and this song had four-note enunciation groups throughout.
Most people don't know the technical terms for vocal registers. Musicians divide the vocal range into groups: large octave 2 (only A and B), large 1 (C to B), then great octave, small octave, and so on. C4 to C5 marks the male high range.
Hitting high notes across groups 4 and 5 with clarity is already excellent. But Chu Zhi? He'd gone as high as E7 on stage in Seoul.
Now he sang with divine mercy. Starting from "drifting and stumbling," he rolled through A4 in head voice, then floated to the fifth octave in light mixed voice for "walking on."
The crowd felt chills and goosebumps. High notes in the chorus always land with power. Even seasoned contestants, even Gu Peng, were stunned by how effortlessly he delivered them.
I stand beside you, but it feels like a galaxy between us. Will we really hold onto this regret until we're old?
No need to show off. Chu Zhi's low notes were already high enough.
You deserve true happiness. You should take off that armor you wear.
Even in Mayday's version, the note for "armor" could hit C5. Chu Zhi took it a step further.
"You—C4, should—G4, take—F4, off—C5, your—G4, worn—G5, out—G5, pro—C4, tec—G5, tive—C6, shell—G4."
He scaled through octave 4, into 5, and even reached a C6. His light mixed tone floated over the crowd like silk. And his face? Still calm, serene, not even strained.
Can we end this sadness here, and start living again?
That final line was the core of Chu Zhi's angel hymn. It echoed Oscar Wilde's words from Lady Windermere's Fan: "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."
The performance ended.