Voice, Verse, and Valor

When the desired opera-style voice module wasn't available, Chu Zhi settled for something else. He ended up drawing The Great Enigma, a poetry collection by Swedish poet Tomas Tranströmer, winner of the 2011 Nobel Prize in Literature.

Tranströmer was one of the rare few to win the Nobel for poetry alone. While not widely known in China, he was hailed as the last great Western poet of the twentieth century—a testament to his literary power.

"Will there still be opera-style modules in the next prize pool? I mean, I really want to keep that reward… Brother System, just be straight with me. Can I buy it with Personality Coins or not?" Chu Zhi had planned to get it for free, but the system stayed silent, forcing him to try and bribe it with coins.

He knew that the so-called "opera-style voice," common in Chinese-style internet songs, had little to do with actual traditional opera. Even singers like Li Yugang used techniques far removed from authentic opera singing. It wasn't about borrowing techniques, either. It was more about mimicking a sharp tone using falsetto—or more technically, "small voice" techniques or stylized folk bel canto.

Chu Zhi realized that mastering this kind of stylized singing could be a powerful tool in expanding his Chinese-style music repertoire.

[The prize pool is randomly generated, with no set pattern,] the system finally replied.

So even Personality Coins couldn't secure a reward? Was the system allergic to money?

Chu Zhi sighed, but quickly adjusted his attitude. "On second thought, maybe it's for the best. That kind of singing isn't hard. I've got talent to begin with. And at a going rate of over ten million per Personality Coin, spending fifty million just to master stylized opera singing would be a waste."

With that, he comforted himself. If you can't have the grapes, might as well say they're sour.

"The Great Enigma—or The Sorrow of the Phoenix Boat—is absolutely worth fifty million!" Chu Zhi said firmly, perhaps hypnotizing himself more than anyone else.

The collection explored themes like death, nature, and memory. While not short poems per se, they were elegantly straightforward, perfect for creating highbrow quotes to impress friends online.

What truly made Tranströmer stand out, however, was his striking imagery. Lines like "Funerals grow closer together, like road signs approaching a city," and "Until the light catches up to me, folding time back upon itself" were prime examples. Even learning to use a few of those could really elevate one's writing. Just… maybe don't copy his weird punctuation and line breaks.

"It's concise and powerful like Stray Birds, but—man, Tagore and Tranströmer's writing styles are worlds apart. How am I supposed to explain that?" Chu Zhi mentally asked the system.

[You don't need to explain anything. Once you prove yourself, someone will step in and explain your versatile writing style. Besides, Host, you're ill.]

"Huh? Bro, what are you trying to say? What do you mean I'm ill?"

[The information you present to the outside world clearly shows signs of severe depression. Plus, you're currently working on establishing a PTSD narrative. A mentally ill poet with a versatile writing style—no one would dare question that.]

"…Oh, right. I am sick. That's true!"

"Good point, Brother System. I'm speechless. You really nailed it."

"Let me go check the sales numbers for my self-funded poetry collection Stray Birds. Once the time is right, I'll toss this one out there too." Thanks to his perfect recall, Chu Zhi knew exactly how to prepare. He'd probably need to make a stop at Liszt Hall first.

Now the question was, should he go for another prize draw? He was feeling lucky. Earlier, he had completed the task [Eat Spicy Food * 200 times], earning another seven Personality Coins and bringing his balance up to sixteen. Even after spending five just now, he still had eleven left. Another spin wouldn't hurt.

As he was pondering, a familiar voice echoed from the restroom.

"Brother Liang, what a coincidence, you came to the bathroom too," Chu Zhi said.

"Hahaha, Xiao Jiu, you really crack me up," Liang Pingbai laughed.

"I'm all done here. I'll wait for you outside, Brother Liang." Chu Zhi left the restroom with a wave.

Guess the prize draw could wait.

The event he was attending wasn't commercial. It was organized by the China Musicians Association as part of a copyright protection initiative, and the attendees were all members of the association.

Chu Zhi was the only outsider—but not for long. He was soon invited to join the Musicians Association, personally recommended by none other than Liang Pingbai, the vice chairman.

Not only that, but Liang Pingbai, Hou Yubin (also a vice chairman), and Zheng Di (a senior advisor) jointly nominated Chu Zhi to become a member of the next Executive Council.

While Liang Pingbai was the main driving force, Hou Yubin and Zheng Di also had a good impression of Chu Zhi and readily agreed.

Many assume that navigating the association is all about politics and petty power games. Chu Zhi didn't see it that way. To him, attending events and gradually rising through the ranks "without effort" was a perfectly fine path.

Once the annual conference rolled around next year and the new leadership was announced, Chu Zhi would officially become a council member.

Not that it was a big deal. For the Music Emperor Beast, getting such a position without lifting a finger was reason enough to accept it.

After the copyright conference ended, Chu Zhi treated Liang Pingbai, Hou Yubin, and Zheng Di to a proper Beijing-style meal.

"Xiao Zhi is very talented. I hope you write many more good songs," Hou Yubin said as he offered a word of encouragement. It was a reminder not to waste his gift. "Keep your drive alive. Stay diligent and grounded."

"Understood, Uncle Hou." Chu Zhi nodded politely. When elders offer good advice, it's best to accept it with grace.

"I heard Xiao Jiu is competing on I Am a Singer-Songwriter?" Liang Pingbai was well-informed, as always. "Word is you gave an incredible performance."

"Incredible?" Hou Yubin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He motioned for the topic to continue.

"Some say it will shock the entire music scene," Liang Pingbai added. "What song did you perform, Xiao Jiu?"

"It's not that dramatic," Chu Zhi replied. "Just a summary piece based on my current musical studies."

"I'm really looking forward to it. I'll definitely tune in," said Hou Yubin. "A cloud of dreams, a second like a year."

Zheng Di didn't say much, but he was curious too. What kind of song could shake the music scene? The Chinese music industry wasn't some fragile little rice bowl that trembled every time someone made a move.

So why did Liang Pingbai take such an interest in Chu Zhi? Ever since receiving a birthday greeting from him, followed by holiday voice messages, he felt this younger guy was genuinely worth befriending.

That's why he pulled strings to bring Chu Zhi into the association. Sure, his current fame could have gotten him in anyway, but being invited and applying are two very different things. Not to mention, skipping straight to the Executive Council? That was a leap.

While waiting for I Am a Singer-Songwriter to air, Chu Zhi made another seventeen million. Korean money really was easy to earn, and his market value soared once again.

According to incomplete statistics, ever since the "Apostles" launched a surprise fan support campaign in Seoul, they followed it up with several more. It left the H-nation entertainment industry stunned.

Local news outlets slammed the fans, accusing them of irrational behavior, disrupting public order, and blocking traffic. The Apostles were painted as public enemies.

Yet, without any official organization or leadership, they didn't scatter. In fact, they became even more united. Their support items included black-and-red scarves printed with inverted pentagrams, symbolizing "the first drop of blood that breaks through darkness." Honestly, even domestic fan groups weren't this well-organized.

[Why are those stray dogs in the media so hostile to us? Because they want to bully us. The old guard wants to suppress us young people. Why doesn't our demon king come to Seoul? Because they push him out.] —Pinned post on a fan cafe.

The whole thing was starting to feel like a Romeo and Juliet situation. Two people who weren't even that close might grow inseparable simply because their families were so intent on tearing them apart.

The smart way to handle it? Let them live independently, cut off financial support from home, and eventually the couple would part on their own.

That's exactly how Chu Zhi's Korean fans—the Apostles—acted. Even with his good looks (which could be enough to feed someone), there was no official agency to manage or consolidate his fanbase. Eventually, it should fade. But the more the media criticized him and the more the entertainment world closed ranks against him, the more united and fierce his fans became.

Currently, the brands Chu Zhi endorsed in H-nation were among the priciest in the country.

And on Friday, iQIYI finally released the latest episode of I Am a Singer-Songwriter.