"In recent months, there have been many controversies surrounding Teacher Chu," Huang Youru began. "Including but not limited to secret marriage and marital infidelity. Teacher Chu has remained silent—is it because these accusations are true, and you feared that refuting them would only invite more concrete evidence?"
Little Mango Tea Party Invitation might sound like a lighthearted, almost anime-esque show, but Huang Youru's questioning was razor-sharp—completely different from her usual hosting style.
"I think I can address the 'secret marriage' rumor first," Chu Zhi said, deliberately holding back Kang Fei Entertainment's shady maneuvers. Sooner or later, the internet sleuths would dig it up anyway—no scandal could escape the relentless scrutiny of netizens.
"Here's the thing, Host Huang—I'm only 22 this year. Five years ago, I was 17. That's below the legal marriage age for men in China," Chu Zhi stated solemnly. "I haven't falsified my age—I don't even have the means to. My hospital birth records, ID card, and school registration all confirm that 22 is my real age. Anyone who checks would know."
Huang Youru pressed further: "But what about a de facto marriage? Even if you couldn't register at the civil affairs bureau, what if you held a wedding banquet in a rural area at 17? If the woman claims you were secretly married, that's a valid accusation, even if the law doesn't recognize it."
"I've brought some documents," Chu Zhi said. "The woman online, Li Tingyu, claims we were high school sweethearts. But after checking with my alma mater, No. 37 High School, there was no student named Li Tingyu in my grade—or even the adjacent ones. This includes dropouts, name changes, and transfers."
At the right moment, Chu Zhi placed the documents on the coffee table. The camera zoomed in, projecting the records onto the stage screen. To protect privacy, student IDs, genders, and ages were blurred—only names were visible. Column after column of names, none matching "Li Tingyu."
The 120 audience members watched intently, though the dense text made it impossible to verify on the spot. The real impact came from Chu Zhi's next words.
"Five years of secret marriage? A relationship? I've never even met Li Tingyu," Chu Zhi concluded.
"Teacher Chu, are you suggesting that a woman you've never met maliciously slandered you for personal gain?" Huang Youru's tone sharpened, her naturally husky voice adding gravity. "Are you willing to stand by that statement legally? To take responsibility for your words in court?"
"As an adult, I fully stand by my statements. In fact, I plan to file a lawsuit against Li Tingyu for defamation this week," Chu Zhi declared.
"Doesn't that sound absurd?" Huang Youru countered. "If there was no relationship—if you've never met—why would she risk legal consequences to fabricate such an elaborate story? Doesn't your explanation defy logic?"
From the start, Huang Youru's questions had been pointed, almost combative. A less composed guest might have felt targeted, but Chu Zhi recognized the strategy. By playing devil's advocate, she was giving him the perfect setup to dismantle the rumors piece by piece.
"I agree it sounds unbelievable. But Li Tingyu's claims are full of holes," Chu Zhi said. "For instance, she alleged we met for dates in Chuncheng last June and Jinling in August. But here—"
He produced two detailed itineraries. "These are my schedules for June and August. At the time, I was preparing for a concert, shuttling between Shanghai, Beijing, and Shenzhen. I even went to Macau for work."
For the first time, the audience—and Huang Youru—saw the grueling schedule of a top-tier celebrity. Even without context, the sheer density was exhausting.
[June 3: TMEA Music Awards (Macau)
June 4: Oriental Billboard Awards (Shanghai)
June 5–7: Madame Figaro World cover shoot (Beijing)
June 6–9: iQiyi Summer Student Welcome short film (Beijing)
June 9: COSMO Fashion Beauty Awards (Shanghai)
...]
And that was just the main events. A secondary schedule showed how every spare minute was filled—VCR recordings, cameos in a junior artist's MV, commercial meetings. Some tasks could be done locally (like renting a hotel conference room for a quick shoot), but others required cross-city travel.
"Isn't this exhausting?" Huang Youru blurted after scanning the secondary schedule. "I record four shows a week and feel drained, but at least I usually sleep before 1 AM. You barely have a single day ending before then."
"Many artists would kill for this kind of schedule. Complaining would be ungrateful," Chu Zhi said without a hint of resentment. "Besides, I usually get to sleep by 2 AM. I don't need much—five hours is enough."
Privately, he wondered if his predecessor's notorious temper—the diva behavior—stemmed from chronic sleep deprivation. Lesson learned: less late-night gaming, more naps.
"Okay, I get that your schedule is planned down to the half-hour. But what about overlapping commitments?" Huang Youru's curiosity derailed the interrogation momentarily.
"Shoots aren't all-day. I can hop between locations," Chu Zhi explained before redirecting. He then presented his flight records—and a conspicuously empty high-speed rail log. Not that he never took trains, but flights were faster for his packed timetable.
"These prove I didn't travel to Chuncheng or Jinling in June or August. There was no way I could've been dating anyone," Chu Zhi said.
"Technically, you could've driven, but with this schedule, you'd have no time," Huang Youru mused. "So the secret marriage and affair rumors are... false? And if there was no marriage, the 'infidelity' claim is pure fabrication?"
Her "surprise" was performative, but the audience's shock was genuine. Gasps rippled through the studio—this was a scandal unraveling in real time.
"Hmm." Huang Youru pulled up Li Tingyu's original Weibo post. "I, too, was swept up in the 'protect the underdog, expose the powerful' narrative. But looking closely now, her accusations—while eloquent—lack any hard evidence. Why did I believe her so readily?"
"Maybe because I'm Chu Zhi," he said after a pause. "Or perhaps I failed to earn the public's trust. That's on me."
Smooth. Huang Youru was almost impressed. Even she felt a flicker of admiration.
More than looks, she valued emotional intelligence—and Chu Zhi had it in spades.