"Since Producer Che is making such a strong invite, I have no objection," Chu Zhi said. "Working with him is just so smooth."
Seeing him say that, Che Lun knew it might be courtesy, but still comforting to hear. "Chu Zhi, let me know if you have any requests for the show setup and we'll adjust accordingly."
"Talk to my agency about the specifics. You know I don't handle details," Chu Zhi replied.
"Understood. We'll definitely offer you better terms than we do Korean stars," Che Lun promised.
In reality, Chu Zhi earned 9 million yuan per episode for music variety shows—already well ahead of Korean idols. Che Lun's promise was more symbolic than meaningful.
When the meeting ended, Chu Zhi left early to attend Rock Night at the Workers' Gymnasium. Che Lun immediately called his team. As iQIYI's vice president, he could make quick decisions.
"Right. As long as the fee is fair, it's fine. Chu Zhi originally only did music shows. If I hadn't reached out, we'd have more hoops to jump through. The asking price? Talk it down if you can," Che Lun instructed—shrewd enough to ensure the credit landed with him if Chu Zhi signed.
Koguchi Yoshihiro, who'd been trying to reach Chu Zhi, finally gathered the courage to speak up.
"Chu-san, I have a concert in Hokkaido in August. Would you be able to join as a guest performer?" Koguchi asked.
Hokkaido. Chu Zhi remembered Sapporo was in Hokkaido—the same place Che Lun mentioned for the travel show shoot.
"What month?" he asked.
"August," Koguchi replied.
"I'll be there if I can," Chu Zhi said. This could help strengthen his standing in the China-Japan-Korea circuit. His fan base was great in Korea—he needed the same in Japan.
Trilateral tours were big business. A bit of effort now could pay off later.
Koguchi was thrilled. He wanted to say they could schedule around Chu Zhi's time, but it wasn't realistic. Concert venues and ticketing were too complex to shift.
Still, Koguchi was happy. Sharing a stage with someone as handsome as Chu Zhi made him feel like a fellow handsome man.
Back in his van, Chu Zhi sank into the slightly uncomfortable seats, even with cushions.
Xiao Zhu handed him two thermos flasks. The black one held Maotai; the red one had honeysuckle tea. She offered him the red cup first.
"Sister Niu, Producer Che just invited me to a variety show," Chu Zhi said, briefly explaining.
"Stars on the Road. I've heard iQIYI is making an S-level reality show. Once you get the formal invite, I'll go over the details," manager Niu Jiangxue replied.
Streaming platforms categorize their productions. S-level shows get top budget and priority. If they conflict with other A-level projects, the latter often yield. Lao Qian rubbed his hands, eager for the negotiation. Reality show episodes average eight to fourteen episodes—if around ten episodes, he estimated Chu Zhi could command 100 million yuan.
Producer Che had offered Jo Kwon 90 million per episode. Since Chu Zhi was more popular, he'd cost more.
"Goodness. Nearly 900 million yuan for a music variety star—double most other big names."
Industry ceilings were well-known: 5.5 million yuan per episode for variety, 28 million per year for endorsements, 3 million per drama episode.
On Earth, actress Shuangzi made headlines at 160 million yuan per film. Her 60-episode series paid about 2.6 million per episode—no ceiling break. But her 77-day shoot still broke records with daily pay of over 2 million.
Chu Zhi smashed every ceiling: variety shows, endorsements, drama. No one else came close. Arriving at the Workers' Gymnasium in Chaoyang District, the 20+km trip from Haidian took about 40 minutes on a clear route.
Chu Zhi got out, followed by assistant Xiao Zhu. The rest stayed in the van.
"Wow, this slogan is powerful," Chu Zhi said, looking at a huge banner hanging outside:Reality is like a rock, spirit is like an egg. The rock is hard, but the egg holds life.
"Very spirited," he smiled, noting the rockstar atmosphere.
Xiao Zhu couldn't help scanning the area. Rows of bikes parked in front of signboards that read:
Rock never dies
Rock can say no
Huaxia rock does not swallow the whole
It was a good setup—he made a mental note to add more visuals for his future concerts.
Meanwhile, inside the van, the others were relaxed.
"Hey Boss, don't you think Chu Zhi's creativity is too strong?" Lao Qian whispered to Wang Yuan.
Wang Yuan blinked. "Of course he's strong. After last album—everyone knows that."
Lao Qian continued, "Think about it: we released the album in March. Now it's late June, and he's already made Opera, Materia Medica, Goodnight Meow, Listen to Mom, Chrysanthemum Terrace, Chapter Seven of the Night, plus a scrap track Learning to Meow. Then he wrote Night Visit the Vampire in a week. Seven full songs since March. Isn't that insane? I have a bold theory..."
"Oh? What theory?" Wang Yuan narrowed her eyes. If Lao Qian dared accuse Chu Zhi of ghostwriting, she'd lose it.
Lao Qian shifted. "I have an ex who's a psych counselor. Reviewing Chu Zhi's records and our visits, the doc diagnosed him with severe depression and anxiety."
"Then?" Wang Yuan waited.
He said, "I wonder if Chu Zhi has bipolar disorder. It could explain his insane creativity. Like Churchill, Hemingway, Van Gogh—they had it too, and produced incredible work."
Wang Yuan paused. That twist left her speechless.
Bipolar disorder—periods of depression and mania—is often called the genius illness.
"Think it over. Compared to Hemingway or Van Gogh, Chu's output is even more dramatic."
It made sense, but Wang Yuan didn't want to talk. Just then, iQIYI's business department called to negotiate Stars on the Road's cost. It was going to be a high-stakes bargaining session. Lao Qian's joking mood stiffened as he got serious.
Sister Niu also confirmed that as an S-level variety show, the project was being handled by Che Lun, so it was unlikely to be cancelled. During the negotiation, Wang Yuan piped up. Because money—often in the millions—involved, it felt like preparing for battle.