Half an hour to New York. A flight attendant tapped the seat, told Chu Zhi to put everything upright. He woke groggy, decided to reward himself with a blind box pull, and watched his personality coin balance drop from 49 to 44. His heart hurt.
It'd be great if the lottery sometimes gave back 5 coins instead.
He told the system to open the pool and peeked at the prizes.
[Wind-ripper Little Donkey]
[Bottomless Refill Goblet]
[Curio: All-Focus Chicken Soup]
[Honey Badger Voice]
[Title: Prize Magnet]
[New Age Music Pack]
"This pool's laid out different," he yawned.
All-Focus Chicken Soup, probably short for "chicken soup of total concentration." Drink it, think about a task, then your focus locks in whenever you want, unaffected by time or mood.
Strong stuff. Most people can't focus past fifty minutes. He didn't need it though. He could gaslight himself into god-tier focus already.
"Great curio, not for me."
He thought he knew all the system's voice buffs. Nope, a new toy dropped.
Honey Badger Voice. Honey badgers are famous for picking fights with anything. So this was the sound of resistance, agitation, defiance.
It overlapped a bit with Rage Motor Voice. Both suit rock, but Rage leans on anger while Honey Badger leans on fearless pushback.
"Not bad, bro. But… what's Wind-ripper Little Donkey?" He checked. It was literally a donkey. If he drew it, he'd get a donkey faster than a Ferghana horse.
If a donkey runs that fast, does it taste good? No notes on that. Either way, not his thing.
Bottomless Refill Goblet looked like an ordinary cup, but it would refill infinitely with any drink you'd tasted.
"Now we're in sci-fi." Then he remembered he'd already drawn a stand-in salamander. This cup was practically normal.
Weird pool, still some drool-worthy picks. The legendary title Prize Magnet made award juries favor you.
It wouldn't give you trophies you didn't deserve. It just tipped the scales when skill levels were close.
"System bro, I want that. Maybe Unsinkable can net me an Oscar for Best Actor."
The New Age Music Pack was great too, a bundle of classics from Enya, Sojiro, Ryuichi Sakamoto, Joe Hisaishi, Bandari, and more. His eyes lit up so hard he almost outshone a bulb.
He was a grown man, but he still couldn't have both. Annoying.
"Whatever, it's mine sooner or later." He picked a box, followed a sudden hunch, and tapped the far right.
Open… Honey Badger Voice.
Huh. The system didn't rig it for him this time.
Siren Voice and Angel's Gospel could literally spread the faith. Add Honey Badger Voice to Siren, and he was pretty sure he could spark a movement.
"Bro, that's a little criminal. Feels like I'm gonna end up in a cell someday."
That made five voice buffs. When it came to injecting emotion into a song, he was already overpowered. He barely even used Siren Voice as is.
"Being invincible is so, so lonely. Still, since I pulled Honey Badger, I just got a great idea."
No pickup at the airport in New York. The screening had come together fast, a last-minute call from the Fox group CEO.
The screening was at Lion Entertainment Cinema, 2 Wall Street. Director Cameron was there, Fox execs too. No other cast, just him and Cameron. He wasn't invited as the lead actor either, but as a producer.
Pre-show was perfunctory mingling. He collected a fat stack of business cards. Nobody in Hollywood could ignore an artist who'd sold over fifteen million albums.
Unsinkable ran two hours. He held it, never visited the restroom, and when credits rolled he let out a body-and-soul sigh. Cameron didn't waste the budget. The film was massive and tight.
Under Cameron's eye, the cruise ship became a world in miniature. Big love, small human vices, and those signature deep-focus shots that even an outsider like him could feel. Fox suits nodded, satisfied. Money burned, water bubbled, but the real-model sinking sequence hit in a way CG couldn't.
"It's a real film. Congrats, Mr. Cameron," he said.
"Your score nailed the feeling I wanted," Cameron said. "You also reminded me that when someone's talent shines bright enough, there's no wall between scoring and pop."
"I just did what I could," he said.
"That's genius," Cameron said. "I've got a friend who still can't find the right score. Could you try a pass, as a favor to me?"
How'd this topic drift here?
"What's the movie?" He didn't answer blindly. He did have earth-grade score ideas, but you don't waste classics.
"Na Mokan," Cameron said. "Snail of the century, needs four to five years to shoot a film. His Great Western Canyon has been stuck in post for six months because the score isn't there."
Six months stuck. As a boss, his first thought was how much the investors bled.
He knew Na Mokan. The world's famous slow shooter. First film at twenty-five, over thirty years in the business, a grand total of seven films, and five were both critical and commercial smashes.
"The studio gave him a final warning. If there's no progress in a month, they'll yank post from him," Cameron frowned. "Short-sighted suits. Meddling like that ruins films."
"If it's a Western, I can try. I love those," he said. He held the earth's holy set, from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly to Titoli and Ride, including that whistle everybody recognizes.
Cameron hugged him, genuinely moved. When Cameron had trouble, Chu Zhi always stepped up. That's what a good friend was.
He'd earn a debt from a big director and widen his scoring path. Two birds, one stone. Why would he say no?
He had a morning video meeting, so he turned down the Fox after-party. Night in America is morning in China. Eating and drinking doesn't beat work.
"Jie Niu, change tomorrow's itinerary," he said as the meeting opened. "Don't book the morning flight home. I need to head back to L.A."
He explained the ping-pong schedule, all that transit time, then said he'd test scoring for Na Mokan's Great Western Canyon.
"I'll arrange it."
Niu Jiangxue was all for it. Na Mokan's no small name. If her artist became a known Hollywood composer, the company would level up hard.
"The China Charity Federation sent an invite for a fundraising gala," she continued. "Theme is caring for rural children."
"A charity gala, in what format?" he asked.
"Corporate donors event," Niu Jiangxue said. "It's weird though. All the singers they invited are veterans in their forties, except you."
If it were a public fundraiser, inviting him made sense. His popularity would bring in more donations.
This time the money would come from corporations. Old legends would go up, do the rounds, the amounts were already set. So why invite him?
It didn't fit.
He understood her doubt, thought it through, and the light went on.
The China Charity Federation had given him a channel for large anonymous donations. Of course they knew who he really was. With this invite… were they planning to blow his cover?
Hey now, don't. He'd only donated under four hundred million yuan. If they flip him now, how's he supposed to finish the milestone?
"We can go. It's charity," he said.
"Got it." Niu Jiangxue had no objection, just needed to slot it in properly.
"Second thing…"
He was grinding. Someone else was grinding too.
Fox TV, The Masked Singer team. American variety loves shoot-one, air-one. Always about a week ahead, then tweak next week's theme on audience feedback.
So the night they wrapped episode one, the team stayed late. Don't believe the myth of a no-overtime free America. That's fantasy.
Five days to air. Editing and promo direction both needed a plan by morning.
"Azazel has to be our top promo focus. Who's second?" director Lukinsky asked.
"Red Lion. She lost, sure, but we can sell a clash of titans."
"Clash of titans? Come on. Red Lion got flattened by Azazel. I vote Himalaya. That stage had zero weak points."
"Are we trapped in a bakery? We can push the unmask too. Nevis is promo-worthy."
"Do we need a second focal point? Azazel's Jesus Loves Me is unmatched across six seasons. Let's use the headline, 'The most astonishing performance in show history.' That's stronger."
Voices rose. The last line hooked Lukinsky.
Ratings had slid for two straight seasons. Viewers called seasons four and five stale.
Season seven's return needed a big swing or the curve wouldn't climb.
Lukinsky pushed further. "Gentlemen, I hear you. How about this banner: 'The greatest performance in The Masked Singer's history.'"
Whoa. Big chest on the man.
Past champions were all killers. A Grammy winner. A fifty-million seller. Mexico's national treasure. A British rose diva. A rock immortal. A machine-god winner of American Idol.
Fox always booked hitters. If they still labeled this the greatest, the internet would melt. The staff could feel it.
A little too much?
No one said it out loud, but a lot of eyes asked the question.
"Think about Jesus Loves Me," Lukinsky said. "Isn't it true?"
They pictured an angel descending and had nothing to argue.
"Mr. Lukinsky, who's Azazel really?"
"I want to know too. He's probably not American. I can't match the voice."
"First time I've been this curious about a mask."
And so on. Since guessing the identities was the show's core hook, only the designer crew, the director, and the EP knew who the masks were. The stylists were locked under tight NDAs. Lukinsky wouldn't spill it, so he slid the team onto the next task.
While they were buzzing about Chu Zhi, he flew back to L.A. at first light…
===
I decide to change Voice of Seduction to Siren Voice. Sorry about this