Chu Zhi's demands weren't excessive—he just wanted to surpass China's Four Great Painters. No, this wasn't the rambling of a drunkard.
On Earth, the modern Four Great Painters were:
Qi Baishi (shrimp),
Xu Beihong (horses),
Zhang Daqian (landscapes),
and Jay Chou (pie-in-the-sky promises).
Jay's habit of endlessly delaying albums had frustrated even non-fans, cementing his place in the meme. Chu Zhi's modest goal? To exceed Jay Chou's Earthly influence.
Of course, this was currently just another pie-in-the-sky dream. Chu Zhi excelled at selling himself lofty aspirations—whether during his early "clear my name and live lavishly off endorsements" phase or his current "dominate the industry" mindset.
Conclusion? He thrived on clawing back from the brink or scaling impossible heights.
Thirty-four of the thirty-seven lawsuits had entered withdrawal proceedings. The remaining three stubborn brands? Pressure's on. With his mansion secure, Chu Zhi felt the sky had never looked brighter.
Sun River Entertainment's HQ occupied three buildings in Chaoyang's cultural district. Arriving at the lobby, he was greeted by four people—only Potbellied Director Du was familiar. The other two men and one woman were likely company artists.
"Senior Brother, I'm Wang Jinji—a musician trying to make my own stuff. I'd love your guidance sometime. Huge fan of your work." The short-haired speaker's acne-reddened face betrayed his nerves.
By tenure, age, or debut date, Wang should've been the "senior." His deference signaled zero ambition to challenge Chu's top-dog status. Unfazed by the public setting, he even hummed "When the breeze carries harvest's scent…" from The Wind Blows the Wheat.
"Ahem." Director Du coughed. "Save the duets for the office. This is embarrassing."
"For you, maybe." Wang grinned. "Senior Brother said I sounded great!"
Chu nodded. "Solid technique. You've got the fundamentals down."
Wang Jinji—a Voice of China alum who'd struggled for five years before modest success—had once envied Chu's instant fame. Now? Pure admiration.
"Chu Zhi. Liu Pei." The other man introduced himself coldly.
The former company ace, 31-year-old Liu Pei, was a film/TV/variety triple-threat with multiple IP dramas under his belt. Dubbed "Costume Drama God" by fans, his sharp cheekbones and square jaw lent a stern handsomeness.
Threatened? Absolutely. Even in different lanes, resources were finite. Liu might lack Chu's popularity, talent, or looks—but he wasn't rolling over.
Pathetic, he sneered inwardly at Wang's bootlicking.
"Liu's work ethic is impressive. A true professional." Chu's glance took in Liu's shorter stature.
"Ahem—" Liu's ego preened at "professional." He'd agonized over acting classes, yet the public dismissed his progress. "I still have much to learn. Unlike you—producing an entire album alone? That's real artistry." His tone warmed.
The fourth greeter, Niu Jiangxue, lingered silently. Director Du herded them upstairs. The packed elevator ride to the 31st floor passed in awkward silence.
Office Frenzy
Sun River's spacious floor—complete with gym and lounge—offered views of Chaoyang's skyline (and its infamous citizen watchdogs).
"OMG it's him!" A PR staffer whisper-squealed. "My crush is a Little Fruit! If I get a birthday shoutout for her tomorrow, I'm so in."
"Pfft. I became a semi-fan after his Red Chamber performance. Literally changed my life—last week, I ran out of toilet paper mid-business but thought 'What would Chu Zhi do?' and walked out unwiped. Never felt more empowered!"
"…New rule: You stay three desks away."
As Chu entered, the entire floor—from marketing to talent scouts—paused their scrolling. Even a B-list actor fawned like a fanboy.
"Sign later," Director Du cut in. "Business first."
Wang Jinji extended a dinner invite ("Next time!"), while Liu Pei departed with a nod.
In the conference room, Director Du presented a black folder. "Four potential lead agents. If none suit you, we'll keep looking."
Chu skimmed the dossiers. A full team—lead agent, exec agent, PR agent, assistants, stylists, photographers—would total ~20 people.
(Fun fact: Those "candid" street-style photos? All staged by hired shooters.)
"Lead and personal agents are the priorities."
The candidates:
Sister Li – Veteran with extensive industry ties.
Big Bowl – Former strategist for Li Xingwei, ambitious and well-connected.
Auntie Xiao – Maternal figure type, excels at crisis management.
Niu Jiangxue – …Wait, who?
"Big Bowl stands out. Sharp instincts, Li Xingwei's old team…" Chu mused. But interviews would decide.
A good lead agent was a game-breaking support. A bad one? Feeding the enemy three kills at spawn. He'd blocked three days for this.
Yet after fifteen minutes… no one arrived.
Chu checked his phone. Ah. Liu Pei's an actor.
(Pro tip: When dealing with pretty-faced celebs desperate to be seen as "serious artists," just praise their "craft." They'll eat it up every time.)
"Got you figured out, kid."