"System bro, is it about time I woke up?" Chu Zhi spoke inwardly to his system.
[According to the host's request, the wake-up time has already been properly arranged.]
"I trust you, bro. But let me ask one more time, I won't have any lasting side effects, right?" He was a little uneasy.
[Please trust the quality of the strange artifacts made by the system. All injuries caused by the fatal attack have gradually been transferred onto the substitute salamander doll.]
As the system spoke, it displayed an image. In Chu Zhi's item bar, aside from the custom album coupon and the song voucher, there was also a golden salamander statue. A faint crack had appeared across its belly. Once all the injuries transferred, the statue would shatter.
"When it shatters, it won't disappear, right? What I mean is, can I take it out and use it as a decoration at home?" he asked.
[You can.]
Chu Zhi's consciousness had already woken the day after being shot, right after surgery. He couldn't move, but he could hear everything around him.
Besides the voices of doctors and nurses, he caught familiar ones too… Niu Niu, Brother Qian, and the others. It made sense. He'd been shot, of course his management team rushed over.
That was exactly what happened. As soon as Niu Jiangxue heard her boss had been shot, she immediately rushed back to the company and decided to give everyone time off, pausing all activities and collaborations. But Wang Yuan rejected her plan. She argued the company should keep running, only suspending absolutely necessary business. Music licensing and trademark usage could continue without interruption.
"The company can't afford problems. When Xiao Jiu wakes up, he definitely won't want the company to have stopped," Wang Yuan said.
She was saying one thing but feeling another. The real reason was that, as a mom fan, Wang Yuan couldn't bear the thought of seeing him lying unconscious in a hospital bed. So she didn't dare go. She believed that if she held down the fort at the "base," then Xiao Jiu would come back safe, stand at the company's doors again, and say, "Morning, everyone. It's a brand new day."
It was really just her way of running away, but everyone deals with hardship differently. There was nothing to blame her for.
Inside the ward, the Emperor Beast still had the mood to wonder if real vegetative patients were in the same situation as him. Outside, at the end of the corridor, armed security stood by the elevators, a classic case of locking the barn after the horse ran.
Some aftershocks followed the incident. The entire Shenguāng Sanctuary organization got taken down. During interrogation, the self-proclaimed reincarnation of Jesus swore, "Robert was just a delusional madman. Our group absolutely didn't send anyone to assassinate Mr. Chu Zhi. Personally, I respect him completely!"
Respect? Yeah, right. The Shenguāng Sanctuary was full of populists who saw people of color as inferior. But the leader really was screwed. He hadn't expected one of his followers to actually go through with it. If he could do it over again, he'd never have let Robert join.
"Ms. Natt, you look pale. You should rest. We've booked a room at the Hilton nearby, please take a break," Jimmy urged.
Jimmy was President Steel's driver. Drivers didn't rank on any official scale in either America or China, but they were always among the leader's most trusted aides.
Chief of Staff Deporto had arranged the hospital, chosen the surgeon, and assigned nurses. But as White House steward, he couldn't stay at the hospital around the clock. So Jimmy, acting on behalf of the First Lady and President Steel, was the one standing in.
"Thank you, Mr. Jimmy, but I'm fine," Niu Jiangxue refused to rest. For the past three days, Brother Fei, Lao Qian, and Qi Qiu had all been taking shifts in the ward.
"We invited top medical staff," Jimmy added.
Niu Jiangxue fell silent. Chu Zhi had no family. No parents, no relatives. If they didn't watch over him, he really would've been all alone. They weren't going to let that happen.
After trying several times and getting nowhere, Jimmy stopped pushing. He didn't want them to dislike him. Honestly, even he felt uneasy, realizing he'd been seeking out Niu Jiangxue for conversation way too often these past two days.
He stepped outside to buy food, grabbing a newspaper on the way.
"White House Press Office statement: President Steel expresses deep sympathy and regret over Mr. Chu Zhi's situation. No one wanted such a tragedy, and he will urge the courts to deal the harshest punishment to the assailant." — Chicago Tribune
Under America's system of checks and balances, Steel's words basically carried no weight.
"Spain's Princess Sofía launches a fundraiser for her idol Chu Zhi, raising fifteen million euros (about sixteen million USD) in just three days." — Los Angeles Times
News about Chu Zhi kept flooding in. Sofía hadn't asked for donations outside. She'd just tapped the most elite Spanish-speaking second-generation club, the Pomegranate Club. It had started as a reading club, but over time, half of it split into Little Fruits. After Unsinkable blew up worldwide, his looks alone turned ninety percent of them into fans. That was why they could raise fifteen million euros in three days.
Don't assume all these rich kids had endless money to throw around. They weren't exactly sitting on mountains of gold.
"Chu Zhi's coma feels like someone pressed pause on the global entertainment industry." — The Washington Post
"According to US Customs data, visitors to New York have surged these past few days, with at least a million tourists coming specifically for Chinese star Chu Zhi. Hotel prices near NYU Langone have surpassed peak season rates. Economists predict [the Chu Zhi shooting] could become the ultimate example of fan economy power." — Wall Street Journal
"Over a thousand stars worldwide pray for Chu Zhi. Online, the hashtag #ChuZhiMustWakeUp# has passed fifty million posts." — Star Forum
Hollywood stars, whether they knew him or not, were reposting and commenting. At least half of them had spoken up.
The public's focus was crystal clear. Even Fox's President Roger and Vice President James were furious.
"Damn it! Those disgusting politicians," Roger snapped, throwing down the paper.
James cursed too. "All politicians think about is their own profit. They don't give a damn about us."
"If they hadn't forced Unsinkable off theaters in Europe and America, if we could've extended the run another two or three months, with all this going on, we'd have easily made another hundred million," Roger said.
"Not just that. If we'd played it right, labeled it as 'Chu Zhi's final work' or 'The genius actor's last masterpiece,' we could've raked in two to three hundred million more without breaking a sweat," James added.
"If Unsinkable had hit the global box office with another three hundred million, it would've been number one in the world. And the revenue difference between first and second place is at least thirty percent," Roger groaned, clutching his chest at the thought of all that lost money.
Both men were over fifty, but their lungs were still strong enough to keep cursing those politicians, specifically the ones on the President's Committee on the Arts and Humanities.
Day one, day two… day six. Chu Zhi still hadn't woken up.
The first three days, Little Fruits held onto hope. But as time dragged on, that hope thinned, and panic spread. It was like walking under a sunbeam, only for that sun to suddenly die out, leaving nothing but darkness.
That darkness weighed on the whole world. Asia felt it harder. China felt it hardest of all.
"Xiao Gang, let's go, let's go. I promised you, as long as you did well on your exams, Mom and Dad would take you on a trip. Tomorrow we're heading to Bo'ao," Lao Cheng said. He never imagined his underperforming son would get into one of the city's top high schools. Ecstatic, he even took time off work to keep his promise.
But his son didn't look excited like he'd expected. The boy just lifted his head and muttered an "oh," leaving Lao Cheng awkward.
"Not happy?" Lao Cheng asked.
"I am happy," Cheng Gang forced a smile. It wasn't even fake, exactly. A family trip was good news, but somehow his spirits just wouldn't lift.
Lao Cheng wanted to press, but his stern-father image made him swallow it down and instead say, "Pack your own clothes. You're old enough now, don't make your mom worry about everything."
"Got it," Cheng Gang answered impatiently. He couldn't understand why his dad kept nagging when anyone could see he was in a bad mood.
Lao Cheng wanted to say, "If something's bothering you, talk to me," but what came out instead was, "You're already annoyed from just a few words? Think you've grown wings now?"
He left the room, paused a moment at the door, sighed, and went back to the bedroom.
"Wife, why's Xiao Gang so down? Did something happen?" Lao Cheng asked.
But Hui Hui, his wife, didn't hear a word. She was too focused on her phone.
Lao Cheng raised his voice and asked again.
Hui Hui heard him, put her phone down, and gave her husband a side-eye. "Xiao Gang's been upset for days."
The subtext was clear: you're only noticing now?
"You know Chu Zhi got shot, right?" she asked.
"Of course I know, it's everywhere. At first, I thought it was some political leader." Lao Cheng was a fishing nut, never cared about songs or movies.
"Chu Zhi's Xiao Gang's idol. His idol's lying unconscious in the hospital. How could he possibly be happy?" Hui Hui said.
"All this just for some celebrity?!" Lao Cheng got mad. "That guy makes billions a year. Why the hell should we worry about him? Does he even deserve that?"
"Why're you so worked up?" Hui Hui shot back. "Listen before you run off half-cocked. Tell me, do you know why Xiao Gang got into No. 7 High School? You really think it was just a lucky break?"
No. 7 High in Rong City was an elite school. With Xiao Gang's usual grades, it was practically impossible. Saying it was "just an exceptional performance" was too vague.
"You know what people online are saying? This is the typical absent-father education style. You're always away on business, you don't even know how hard the kid's working."
Lao Cheng gave an awkward smile, guilty enough not to argue back.
"Second half of his last year of middle school, Xiao Gang studied harder than ever. Normally, he's lazy as hell, all start and stop. But this time, he stuck with it. Why? Because of Chu Zhi."
"Huh?" Lao Cheng couldn't wrap his head around it. He was about to blurt out something stupid when his wife's glare shut him up.
"I looked into it. I even infiltrated one of the fan groups. This celebrity constantly encourages his fans to study and live well. He leads by example, step by step chasing his own goals," Hui Hui explained. "Especially the group I joined, it didn't even feel like a fan group, it was like a study group. The atmosphere was great, they talked about studying and exams for hours."
"?" Lao Cheng.
"There were graduates from top universities in there too. Any time someone asked about academics, group members would explain in detail."
"?" Lao Cheng.
"And because they were all Chu Zhi's fans, they pushed each other forward. In that kind of environment, Xiao Gang worked his ass off for a whole semester. Add in his exceptional exam performance, that's how he made it into No. 7."
"?" Lao Cheng felt like he was listening to a fantasy story. If it weren't for how serious his wife sounded, he'd think she was joking.
"This is getting ridiculous," Lao Cheng muttered. "What kind of star spends their time making sure fans study? That's weirder than me coming back from fishing empty-handed."
"You're empty-handed all the time," Hui Hui said. The comparison felt way off.
"Defamation, pure defamation! When have I ever come home empty?" Lao Cheng stared like he'd been wronged by heaven itself.
"You didn't catch anything just last week."
"I didn't catch fish, but I caught two crabs. That's not empty-handed," he argued.
"And this Wednesday? No fish, no crabs, nothing."
"Remember that half-bucket of water I brought home? I scooped that from the lake. Still a harvest. Not empty-handed." He quickly changed the subject with her own catchphrase. "Let's talk about something serious."
"Since I went undercover in the fan group, I found out a lot," Hui Hui said. "Chu Zhi's actually a deputy minister-level cadre."
"Wait, wait, do you even realize how terrifying what you just said is?!" Lao Cheng snapped. "He's a celebrity, a deputy minister? Do you know what that means? That's the same rank as our city's top leader."
Rong City was the capital of Sichuan Province, and a vice-provincial city at that.
It was normal to dismiss anything outside your frame of knowledge as fake. His reaction was completely natural.
"See for yourself." Hui Hui knew her husband's stubbornness. Without solid proof, he'd never believe her.
On the Ministry of Foreign Affairs website, the titles "Chief Consultant" and "Counselor" were right there. Lao Cheng was baffled. He might not care about the internet, but he wasn't living under a rock. How had he never heard?
Ambassadors-at-large get blasted everywhere online. So a star with those titles should've been even bigger news.
"His injury overshadowed everything. That's why people barely paid attention to the titles," Hui Hui said. "Back to the point. It's exactly because Chu Zhi cares about his fans' lives and studies, because he's one of the rare positive idols in the industry, that the state recognizes him.
For our Xiao Gang, Chu Zhi's like a road sign. Only by looking at him does he know where to go, how far he's gone. Now that road sign might break, how could he be happy?"
Having a celebrity as a road sign sounded laughable, but Lao Cheng's retorts died when his wife shoved her phone at him. On the screen was a fan comment left by someone with the ID [Shoes Wet from a Tailwind].
[I got to know Jiu-yé when my dad missed yet another parent-teacher meeting. I didn't want to go home, so I wandered the streets. On the roadside, I heard, "I once lost myself in the vastness of the world, drowned in its dreamlike words. I couldn't tell truth from lie, didn't struggle, didn't fear mockery." It was The Wind Rises.
My parents are always busy. They work hard for our family, so I can't blame them. Dad fishes in his free time, Mom chases dramas. It feels natural they've no time for me. Parents can't just abandon hobbies after all.
But I've always had so much I wanted to say to them. I spent countless nights sleepless, but thankfully, Jiu-yé's songs kept me company. Maybe it's just my imagination, but his voice is so gentle. It shut out all my scars.
So please, Jiu-yé, you have to get better. I'm begging you.]
Lao Cheng went silent, his throat clogged. After a moment, he asked, "This 'Shoes Wet from a Tailwind'... is that Xiao Gang?"
"Chu Zhi's fans leave messages on this app. That's Xiao Gang," Hui Hui confirmed.
Lao Cheng had always thought their son was a little wolf cub, ungrateful and indifferent. But it turned out, he noticed everything.
"Finding a star as a road sign might be hard for us parents to get, but what choice does he have?" Hui Hui sighed. "We didn't give Xiao Gang enough company or safety."
Parents always think kids are too young to understand, but clearly…
The revelation shook Lao Cheng. Did skipping a parent-teacher meeting really hit kids that hard?
He scrolled through more messages on the Orang Home app. Each one was its own story.
One came from a young office worker with depression. A few years back, she was almost assaulted by her boss. Though justice was served, she'd never found the courage to leave her house again.
She wrote:
[I hate my own weakness. I don't want my parents to keep supporting me after more than twenty years, but I just can't do it.
Then came September 2019, when he appeared.
Xiao Jiu was exposed online, then ambushed on stage by black fans. He sang Backlight through it all. I understood that bone-deep pain. Because of that, he developed PTSD. He was scarred, haunted by nightmares. Without alcohol, he couldn't even step onto the stage. And yet…
He still stood there, singing with all his strength, healing countless people. I was one of them.
Now I'm working at an internet company, fighting to make peace with my shadows. I believe my future will get better.
So please, wake up.
— From someone you saved.]
Every message was a story. Lao Cheng finally understood what Chu Zhi meant to people. He wasn't just a singer, he was a pillar holding up countless lives.
"Good people get good karma. He'll wake up," Lao Cheng said firmly.
"He's a truly good man," Hui Hui nodded. "He'll be blessed."