"Uncle Zheng's treating us to supper. You coming, Wu Xi?" Liao Yiwu asked. "If so, get your stuff. We're heading out."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll change out of my stage outfit and be right there." Wu Xi looked deflated. The fierce swagger he had before the show—like he owned the stage—was gone.
"Old Wu, speaking as a bro, there's no need to keep beefing with Chu Zhi. That guy's really got something going on," Liao Yiwu said.
"Something? Please. He's got nothing but that China-chic gimmick. Was 'Dream Back to Tang Dynasty' even that good? I thought it was mid, honestly. Ji Gong's heavy metal set had way more punch." Wu Xi still hadn't made peace with it, even if deep down he knew he'd been outplayed.
Liao Yiwu didn't argue. After all, he had his own beef with Lin Xia. A part of him was even relieved Lin Xia lacked Chu Zhi's talent. If Lin had performed like that tonight, Liao Yiwu's back might have gone cold from sheer anxiety.
Rock Night was a massive success. It ran nearly three hours, and while not every second was explosive, the highlights came fast and hard. Zheng Huo was more than satisfied. He booked out a restaurant and turned it into a full-blown celebration banquet.
"Damn, that was a rush. Is Rock Night an annual thing? If it is, I'm coming back next year."
"My throat's wrecked. Swear I screamed my lungs out."
"Biggest surprise tonight? Hands down, Chu Zhi."
"Right? People kept hyping him online, and now I get it. That wasn't hype, that was real."
The fifty-thousand-strong crowd began to disperse, chatting with friends about their favorite moments or posting them online. Their throats hurt, their heads buzzed a bit, but anyone who'd ever been to a real concert knew this was the good kind of exhaustion.
The roads outside—Gongren West, South, even Caiwai North Street and East Bridge—were packed. Traffic was backed up and honking was everywhere. This was exactly why concerts required official reporting. Fortunately, traffic officers had arrived early, so while the roads were clogged, they weren't gridlocked.
Usually, performers leave first, followed by the staff gradually releasing the audience in waves. But Rock Night was different. The artists were the last ones out. That meant even Zheng Huo, the man footing the bill, was stuck in traffic near East Bridge—along with Chu Zhi and everyone else.
Inside the van, Xiao Zhu transformed into the group's personal storyteller.
"Chu-ge killed it tonight. He's like an old-school rock legend. Maybe not old—more like a new-school rock god."
"He had that stage on lock. I think only Uncle Zheng could match him. The rest didn't even come close."
"I saw those production team staffers. When Chu-ge first went on stage, they barely glanced up. Then the crowd went nuts, and suddenly everyone's eyes were glued to him. Only then did they realize how insane he is."
Xiao Zhu was clearly fired up. She'd started as a casual bystander, slowly converted into a true fan by Chu Zhi's stage presence. Now, she was defensive anytime someone disrespected him.
"Do most rock fans tend to be men?" Niu Jiangxue asked out of nowhere.
Xiao Zhu blinked. She had just come from the venue. With fifty thousand people there, it seemed evenly split—about half and half.
"Hmm..." Wang Yuan thought for a moment. "Depends. For more niche or underground rock, you probably get more female fans. But for big-name acts? Pretty even."
Old Qian disagreed slightly. In his experience, underground scenes still skewed male. But this wasn't a debate worth pushing. He wasn't some hot-headed keyboard warrior.
Niu Jiangxue had brought it up for a reason—she was wondering whether Chu Zhi should include a couple of rock tracks in his next album. The current music scene leaned heavily toward pop-rock. It wasn't often something this hard-edged popped up, and from what Xiao Zhu described, Chu Zhi's sound was pure fire.
In the end, she didn't voice her suggestion. As a professional manager, she believed in not interfering with an artist's creative process.
Once the banter died down, Old Qian got serious.
"While you were on stage, Jeboo had two more negotiation rounds with Journey of Stars. They're offering twelve episodes for 120 million yuan. iQIYI's current bid is 99 million, with a 1-million signing bonus."
"That's not bad." Chu Zhi nodded. After taxes and deductions, he'd still be taking home tens of millions.
"You're worth every cent," Old Qian said.
For a program that runs barely two and a half months, that kind of offer was unheard of. Chu Zhi was in a league of his own.
"It should've been higher," Niu Jiangxue thought to herself. "Chu Zhi's streaming numbers rival those of The Coming One and Masked Singer. But the offer is already beyond standard market rates, so pushing higher is tough."
Despite the small profit cut between Chu Zhi and Taiyo Entertainment, the company's stock had still jumped. His talent, popularity, and ability to reach Korean markets made him a powerhouse. Executives from HQ kept calling to check in. Niu Jiangxue was sick of answering.
"Still... could he go even further?" she wondered. "Could Chu Zhi become a pan-Asian superstar?" It wasn't a small thought. The Chinese music scene hadn't produced a true Asia-wide icon in years.
"What's your take, Qian-ge?" Chu Zhi asked.
Old Qian delivered the update. "Nine million per episode is too low. If we hold firm, I believe iQIYI will accept the 120 million ask."
"I agree," Niu Jiangxue said. "Just got word—they landed a major sponsor."
She paused.
"Meituan Select is willing to pay 180 million for exclusive naming rights. But their core requirement is that Chu-ge must be part of the cast."
Her source inside Meituan Select was solid. The info checked out.
"That's perfect," Old Qian said. "We keep our price firm."
Top-tier shows could bring in over 400 million in sponsorships. Sisters Who Make Waves 2 had fifteen sponsors and a total of 430 million in funding. For a show that hadn't even fully launched yet, Journey of Stars pulling this kind of backing said a lot about Chu Zhi's star power.
After an hour stuck in traffic, they finally made it to the celebration dinner. Zheng Huo had ordered two whole roasted lambs for the 20 or 30 people in attendance.
They served lamb offal stew with white radish and sheep's blood—rich and hearty.
Lamb went well with beer. Or Wanglaoji if you needed to cool down.
Most of the other singers were already tipsy. Chu Zhi, however, looked completely fine. With his drinking tolerance, the rest might as well be kindergarteners.
"Not even close," Chu Zhi muttered with a small smile. "These guys are all lightweights."
He quietly opened his phone and began adding newly gained contacts to his memo app, noting each person's birthday.
"Huh... where did Wu Xi come from again?"
He thought for a second. In the rock world, skill was everything. Seniority only counted if you were one of the old-school pioneers. Otherwise, you had to earn it.
After tonight's performance, his strength was recognized. Two drinks at the banquet and everyone lined up to add him. For men, friendships were built at dinner tables and in video games.
"I don't remember this guy adding me," Chu Zhi muttered. "Whatever."
He finished logging all the birthdays.