Tonight's late-night feast was all about lamb, and Chu Zhi was the main force behind devouring it. With that, he reached a staggering carb overload level of 50 for the day and pocketed 7 more Personality Coins.
That brought him to 14 coins, along with 2 Song Vouchers and 1 Album Voucher. It felt like the right time.
Maybe, just maybe, his "Drunken Immortal" state would stir up some serious luck.
He opened the blind box feature. The prize pool lit up. Time to spin.
[Belly Dance Mastery]
[Rare Item: Lightning Baby Pop Rocks]
[Title: Sword Immortal]
["Rain in June" Bonus Pack]
["Cool Breeze" Bonus Pack]
[Special Prize: Cheng Dieyi's Dan Role Techniques]
"Cheng Dieyi? That's... a fictional character, isn't it?" Chu Zhi blinked.
[The system never said special prizes couldn't include fictional figures.] The system replied calmly.
"Cheng Dieyi came from that film, Farewell My Concubine, right? That haunting Qingyi who said 'No madness, no life'..." Chu Zhi squinted. "So if I win a fictional prize, what standard are you using to grant the skills?"
[The skills are based on Cheng Yanqiu, the historical figure behind the character.]
Which meant: the prize used Cheng Yanqiu's abilities as the template.
Among the Four Great Dan Actors of Peking Opera, Mei Lanfang embodied elegance, Shang Xiaoyun exuded heroic energy, Xun Huisheng had playful charm, and Cheng Yanqiu was known for his haunting, melancholic style. Each was legendary.
"Then why not just name it after Cheng Yanqiu instead of Cheng Dieyi?" Chu Zhi, a little tipsy in his awakened "Drunken Immortal" state, was getting extra inquisitive.
[Cheng Dieyi is more widely known. Also, the special prize includes bonus effects. Besides, with your current luck, the odds of winning such a prize are still extremely low. Don't overthink it.]
"Oh ho, system bro, are you underestimating me? Watch this lucky bastard show you how it's done."
Chu Zhi let the blind boxes shuffle rapidly, trusting his gut to pick one.
Go, Pikachu! Full power, no holding back!
Blind Box Opened: [Special Prize: Cheng Dieyi's Dan Role Techniques]
"...?"
Chu Zhi went silent.
The system also fell quiet.
Silence blanketed the moment like a curtain over Guang'anmen.
His second ever special prize... and he just casually pulled it like this? No build-up, no drama?
He thought about taunting the system, flexing his "lucky emperor" energy, but stopped himself. No point. Getting snarky and ticking off the system wasn't going to do him any favors.
"Ha! Cheng Dieyi's dan techniques, come to papa."
In Peking Opera, a dan role wasn't just about the voice. It meant mastering all four essentials: singing, speaking, acting, and acrobatics. Chu Zhi was hit with a wave of information that made his head spin—in a good way.
Singing meant vocal technique, speaking referred to delivery and projection, acting covered postures, footwork, eye movements, and gestures, while acrobatics included martial and stunt skills.
Instantly, Chu Zhi went from amateur to virtuoso. Actually, scratch that. More like grandmaster.
He could feel the bonus effect kick in too. The allure of the dan role—his stage presence got a charisma boost. After all, Cheng Dieyi's performance had once been described as "a smile that could warm all eternity, a cry that could chill it."
"I swear, with Farinelli's voice and Cheng Dieyi's flair, I'm basically a god now." With a few more drinks to reach full-on "hangover quota," Chu Zhi collapsed on the floor, giggling, rolling, then popped up with a sudden kip-up.
He tried a full aerial spin—but promptly flopped over. Good news? It didn't even hurt.
Right. He had the skills, but his body hadn't trained for it yet.
Made sense. The special prize already granted charisma boost. Adding physical modifications on top would be overkill.
He tried out a verse from Wang Shu Jian.
"Cradling my child, I weep with blood and tears,
From this day on, all bonds are severed,
This family never meant to divide,
Yet fate has cast us into Wu and Yue…"
Among the four major dan role styles, Chu Zhi's rendition—modeled after the Cheng school—was so sharp it could slice through any stage.
Wait... what was that "Sword Immortal" title about again? Didn't he draw something odd last time?
He pulled up the details.
An epic-tier title. "Sword" connected to "key"—meaning enhanced finger reflexes and dexterity. After equipping, his typing speed would skyrocket. He could outtype ten trolls with one hand.
The next morning, Chu Zhi stepped into a brand new day.
He maintained his usual standard, but a thought stirred: should he pivot toward a high-art route? After all, he now had both bel canto and Peking Opera under his belt.
Not exactly unbeatable across the land—but probably close.
Maybe if he studied further and fused bel canto with opera, he could rise to world-class status. A true artist, not just a star.
"Hmm... but if I reach that level of artistry, would anyone still want to watch me perform?"
That thought hit hard. Art that was too lofty lost its audience. No matter how exceptional bel canto or Peking Opera might be, only a small fraction of people could truly appreciate it.
And world-class opera singers... didn't earn anywhere near what pop superstars did.
"Still, if I make those forms part of my signature sound, I'll have a competitive edge no one else can match. That way, my ceiling will be far beyond what other singers can reach."
He made peace with the thought. No more doubts.
Later that day, Lao Qian brought word of a new offer from a very enthusiastic client. A major game publisher was offering 40 million yuan for a single-year endorsement.
Ten million above market average. In return? Four commercials, fifteen image rights, and one appearance at the game's launch.
Niu Jiangxue suggested turning it down. Orange Haven had been encouraging their fans to focus on school. Taking on a video game endorsement might feel... contradictory. Still, 40 million was a lot. Final decision lay with the artist.
"Reject it," Chu Zhi said without hesitation. "Game voice work is fine. But as for endorsements? No discussion. I'm not taking them—no matter the price."
Had this been before the "coughing blood incident," he might have wavered. But not now.
It wasn't that people shouldn't game in moderation. He just recognized his influence was so outsized, staying clear of game ads was the responsible move.
Every choice came with a price. But he didn't mind.
Right now, he held sixteen brand deals in mainland China and six in South Korea. A new day began again. Chu Zhi received a long message from Che Lun, the producer from iQIYI.
"Che Lun's been around this industry long enough. No way he's messaging me to bypass my team and pull a side deal... right?" Chu Zhi wondered.
He opened the message. It was long, but not naïve. Che Lun was reaching out about the final episode of I'm a Singer-Songwriter—the "Creative Star Showdown."
Five finalists remained: Chu Zhi, Jo Kwon, Liang Zhengwen, Zhu Xinyue, and Koguchi Yoshihiro. Each contestant could invite a guest to perform a duet, and a thousand audience members would vote live.
Nothing unusual about the rules. Plenty of music shows had similar formats.
What caught Chu Zhi's attention was that Jo Kwon wanted to invite his entire boy band, GZ, to perform as a unit.
Bringing the whole group, huh?
With a thousand live votes split fifty-fifty between performance and popularity, a strong guest could tip the scales hard. A full five-member group had way more presence than a single duet partner.
And because Chu Zhi had the biggest name, Che Lun had chosen to speak with him directly.
As for the other three contestants? They didn't even get a say.
"So what does Producer Che think?" Chu Zhi didn't immediately agree. Instead, he asked calmly.
Che Lun was personally rooting for GZ to reunite. They hadn't performed together since coming to China. But he knew it would be unfair to Chu Zhi and wanted his opinion first.