About to Take Off

During the meal, Chu Zhi noticed something about Su Shangbai—he seemed completely uninterested in food, his brows furrowed the entire time. When Chu Zhi asked if the dishes didn't suit his taste, Su Shangbai replied, "It's delicious. This is the best small restaurant I've ever eaten at."

Yet his expression while eating was as serious as if he were solving advanced math problems. Chu Zhi didn't have the heart to ask whether Su Shangbai had continued pursuing a career in the entertainment industry.

It wasn't until after dinner that Su Shangbai brought up another topic. "Brother Jiu, while investigating, I stumbled upon some news—you've terminated your contract with Kangfei Entertainment."

"I traded it for a spot on I Am a Singer," Chu Zhi admitted.

"A wise decision. If you plan to sign with another agency in the future, I can offer some advice," Su Shangbai said.

"Got it. I'll let you know if that happens," Chu Zhi replied.

Only then did Su Shangbai's stern face break into a faint smile—though it vanished quickly when his phone buzzed in his pocket. A reminder notification had gone off.

"Brother Jiu, I have business to attend to in Hong Kong. My flight's at nine, so I should get going," Su Shangbai said.

"Business in Hong Kong? So he's gone from actor to boss?" Chu Zhi couldn't help but feel envious of such a career shift. He, too, wanted to level up—from actor to capitalist—but the road was long and treacherous. The only one he could recall making that transition successfully in his past life was Yang Mi.

"Business comes first. Can't afford delays," Chu Zhi responded.

"If anything happens, you can always message me on WeChat. I'm no good at singing or composing, but scheming and strategizing? That's a skill I've had since childhood," Su Shangbai said before leaving.

Back at the hotel, Chu Zhi organized and stored all the documents. The following days were uneventful—he ignored the online vitriol about his trash singing skills, letting the storm pass.

"Gossip never stops, but if you don't listen, it doesn't exist." Chu Zhi wasn't quite at that level of enlightenment—he noted every insult in a little black book for future reference.

The backlash against Chu Zhi had even overshadowed the news of Lin Zheng and Zheng Yingying's manufactured CP scandal. Mango TV's publicity strategy was clearly working.

Two days later, he returned to Mango TV for rehearsals. "What I Miss" had been a massive hit across Mainland China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and even overseas in Singapore and Canada. If nothing else, it held the record for the longest-charting song on Singapore's Golden Melody Billboard.

There was no question about its quality—it was a bona fide golden hit. Music director Liang Pingbo knew his stuff, and after Chu Zhi's rearrangements of "Desert Island" and "The Wind Blows the Wheat", even if he had reservations, he kept them to himself.

The eight original contestants rehearsed on the same day but were scheduled for morning, afternoon, and evening slots—ensuring no overlap. The secrecy around the semi-final song choices was airtight.

Lin Xia rehearsed with "Suspended River", the lead single from his upcoming album. Performing it early was either a promotional move or a sign of desperation—spurred by Li Xingwei's arrival, Chu Zhi's unexpected resurgence, and Hou Yubin's enduring presence.

"National-style rock—what's truly national is what becomes global. Teacher Lin is incredibly talented, especially with lyrics," Liang Pingbo praised after one rehearsal.

"I only write my own lyrics. I can't compare to Teacher Chu—he handles lyrics, composition, and arrangement. It's almost unfair how well-rounded he is," Lin Xia said, then added with a grin, "Director Liang, give me a little spoiler—how are Teacher Chu and Teacher Li's songs?"

"Teacher Li is stable as always, with strong stage presence. As for Teacher Chu…" Liang Pingbo paused.

"Don't tell me you're going to say his song 'isn't suited for competition' again. You can't fool me twice—I might be an honest guy, but even I have limits," Lin Xia said. "Last time, you said that, and then he crushed everyone and took first place."

Liang Pingbo was speechless. During rehearsals, "Desert Island" had only shown emotional depth—who could've predicted Chu Zhi would deliver a god-tier performance on stage?

The more Liang Pingbo thought about it, the more illogical it seemed. Even peak performances had to follow some rules. Normally, if someone rehearsed at 60% and overperformed to 70%, that was science. If their ancestral graves emitted smoke and they got struck by lightning, pushing them to 80% by perfecting vocals, mood, emotional investment, song comprehension, and technique—fine, Liang could maybe accept that.

But jumping straight to 120%? Doubling their usual output? What kind of nonsense was that?

"Teacher Chu's song is… well-suited for competition," Liang Pingbo finally said after some thought.

"Terrifying," Lin Xia muttered, feeling the pressure mount.

Lin Xia and his agent left the Golden Eagle Building briskly. Inside the nanny car, his earlier casual demeanor vanished, replaced by silence.

"The championship is ours. No need to worry," his agent, Xian Ge, reassured him.

"I'm not worried," Lin Xia said, keeping his thoughts buried. Then he added, "Drop the CP with Zheng Yingying."

"Understood," Xian Ge agreed without question. Though the collaboration had been prearranged with the program group, Lin Xia's sudden change of heart was capricious.

But Xian Ge didn't argue. He knew Chu Zhi and Li Xingwei's pressure had gotten to Lin Xia, who was now venting his frustration elsewhere—making others uncomfortable to soothe himself.

Sure enough, seeing his agent comply so readily lifted Lin Xia's mood.

"How could I possibly be worried about singing? I'm a singer who's already seen through the essence of performance," Lin Xia declared.

"The essence of performance?" Xian Ge asked, puzzled. "Emotional delivery?"

Lin Xia revealed the definitive answer: "Singing isn't about sounding good—it's about not sounding bad!"

"...I should've known better than to expect profundity from you," Xian Ge sighed.

A good agent was like an actor's bole—crucial to their entire career trajectory.

Meanwhile, without a agent, Chu Zhi unlocked another achievement: [100 Cigarettes Smoked]. In reality, it was just five packs—hardly excessive. If not for his vocal preservation efforts, he'd have hit it sooner.

For Western singers, smoking (or even marijuana use) wasn't a big deal—but domestic standards were different. Among Chinese singers, private smoking wasn't scandalous, though it highlighted the gap between mere singers and true vocal artists. For male singers, avoiding heavy smoking was already commendable.

Chu Zhi vividly remembered a business partner from his past life who smoked two packs a day—an absurd amount.

Until he unlocked the mythical achievement [Summon the Smoke], he'd take it slow. With 5 Personality Coins left, his arsenal was sufficient for now—best to keep them as a trump card.

Not having at least five coins made Chu Zhi uneasy, like leaving the house without underwear.

He considered unlocking more Personality System achievements—maybe dye his hair white for a concert? Smoking and drinking counted, but hair dye… experiments showed no effect.

"Probably because stage looks are expected for singers, so it's not 'rebellious' enough," Chu Zhi mused.

Another idea: "Side Hustles." Not acting, but something like enrolling in adult college for architecture or agriculture. That might work, but it wasn't feasible yet—and the payoff seemed low.

Time flew when he was busy. Before he knew it, it was the night of I Am a Singer's broadcast again. This episode attracted many professional music critics—industry insiders, in other words.

Why? Because the semi-finals would introduce a new scoring system.

Previous rounds had relied solely on 800 audience votes. Now, 50 professional judges would contribute a [Professional Score].

Here it comes—the most easily manipulated part of the competition.