"Listen to your mother's words, don't let her get hurt.
Grow up quickly so you can protect her."
These lyrics, in particular, struck Gao Wang as deeply meaningful. After listening to the song once, he played it again, still feeling the uplifting energy of the composition.
Gao Wang praised, "The composer is impressive."
"There's no obscure phrasing—just simple, catchy words that express affection for one's mother with a touch of playfulness. The lyrics are well-written," Gao Wang analyzed, not from a personal preference standpoint but from a professional one.
The original lyrics of Listen to Mother's Words included references like "You'll get to meet Chow Yun-fat, so you can brag to your classmates that the God of Gamblers will be your future dad" and "Because Jacky Cheung started preparing to sing 'Kiss Goodbye.'" Since this parallel world didn't have these superstars, Chu Zhi had adjusted them to local equivalents—movie stars and singers who rose to fame in the '80s and '90s—without affecting the song's essence.
"The singer's voice fits the lyrics and melody perfectly—it's like a child expressing gratitude to his mother with heartfelt emotion. The singer must have a very close relationship with his mother," Gao Wang judged. Without personal experience, such emotion couldn't be conveyed.
Well… in a way, Gao Wang wasn't wrong. Without firsthand experience, it would be hard to sing like that—unless the singer had "Angel's Gospel." Chu Zhi had only used 20% of that skill.
After listening to the song three more times, Gao Wang called Producer Wang.
"Director Gao, does the song work as a promotional track without clashing with the movie?" Producer Wang asked first.
"Using it as just a promotional song would be a waste," Gao Wang said bluntly. "Make it the theme song. Placing it at the end can extend the emotional impact of the film."
"Make it the theme song? Director Gao… you like this song?" Producer Wang hesitated. Market-wise, theme songs were priced lower than promotional songs—don't ask why.
"It's not that I like it. I'm an old-fashioned guy—this kind of music (rap) isn't really my thing. But the lyrics fit my movie's content well," Gao Wang explained.
"Huh?" Producer Wang was puzzled. He hadn't even told Chu Zhi the movie's plot details.
Gao Wang quoted the lyrics: "Why do others read comics while I learn to draw, talking to the piano? Others play games, but I lean against the wall, reciting my ABCs."
"My movie doesn't involve piano or drawing, but the single mother in the story also pushes her daughter to learn dance," Gao Wang said. "Parents everywhere share the same sentiment—they'd rather tighten their own belts to give their kids more opportunities, even if it's not what the children want."
Gao Wang had directed the opening ceremony of the 2008 Olympics and was set to helm the 2022 Winter Olympics as well. In the Chinese film industry, his status was undisputedly top-tier.
(Though his own children hadn't followed him into showbiz—his teenage granddaughter was more into K-pop idols.)
"No problem, I'll talk to Chu Zhi's team. It should be fine," Producer Wang agreed, sensing that the director wasn't really asking for his opinion.
"By the way, who wrote the lyrics and composed the music?" Gao Wang asked.
"Both were done by Chu Zhi. He's one of the rare singers in this generation who writes his own lyrics and music," Producer Wang replied.
"Then he really is one of the better singers of this era," Gao Wang praised.
With his point made, Gao Wang hung up.
The next day, Thursday.
For Chinese Little Fruits (fans), it was just an ordinary day. But for Seoul's Apostles, it was crucial—today was the day to show those foolish Koreans that Demon King Chu Zhi's popularity was no joke!
(Of course, the entire lightning-flash support event was organized by Seoul locals.)
Myeongdong, Seoul's shopping district. M Plaza, the heart of the area, was known for its massive glass façade. But passersby barely noticed—it was rush hour, and office workers were exhausted.
At 8:06 AM, over a thousand people suddenly flooded the plaza, startling pedestrians like a zombie apocalypse.
Then, a cacophony of voices erupted:
"Demon King Chu Zhi, welcome to Seoul!"
It sounded like ten thousand ducks quacking—utterly incoherent.
The plaza, though large, could only hold a few hundred people. Many Apostles couldn't squeeze in. Some gathered near Hoehyeon Station Exit 4, others at Euljiro Entrance, and simply started chanting on the spot—
"Demon King Chu Zhi, welcome to Seoul!" (x4)
By the second chant, the voices synchronized. Though only 3,000+ had signed up on the fan cafe, unofficial estimates put the actual participants at 6,000.
Six. Thousand.
Even if it couldn't rival Pinduoduo's user base, with that many people, Li Yunlong could've taken Ping'an County twice over.
For ten seconds, the entire Myeongdong echoed with Chu Zhi's name.
Holy Mother of Han River!
Passersby initially thought it was some cult gathering—in their limited experience, only religious groups had such organizational power.
Then, just as suddenly, the crowd dispersed. Office workers rushed to the subway, students blended back into the streets—as if it had all been a dream.
"???"
What just happened?
No journalists captured the moment, but surveillance cameras did. Footage from multiple angles spread like wildfire online.
Meanwhile, the man himself—Chu Zhi—was busy with schedules in Chongqing.
"Official press conferences are exhausting," Chu Zhi sighed after attending the "Chongqing Healthy Tourism City" launch event. He finally relaxed in the car, reclining his seat.
Ma Weihao (a.k.a. Haoyou) wordlessly began massaging his shoulders. The car's limited space wasn't ideal, but basic fatigue relief was doable.
June 4th.
Chu Zhi visited Tianshui Ping Cemetery alone. Following the original host's memories, he found the grave.
He kept it low-key—no manager, no assistant. The original host's grandfather had disliked disturbances.
He burned joss paper and incense.
"Old man, burning these for you yearly is the least I can do now," Chu Zhi murmured. If the original host's emotions still lingered, there'd be overwhelming grief.
But there was nothing.
As mentioned before, the original host's residual feelings had completely faded. Chu Zhi stood there like an outsider, silently watching the paper burn.
The grandfather had raised the original host single-handedly. Before his death, the grandson had kowtowed multiple times at the funeral—their bond had been deep.
"Let me kowtow three times too."
Chu Zhi knelt and bowed three times. After all, the grandson the old man had worried about till his last breath… was truly gone.
"May you be reborn into a good family."
"May you find peace in your next life."
"May you meet again as grandfather and grandson."
After paying respects, Chu Zhi left. The incense and paper had burned out.
He put on a mask and approached the cemetery caretaker.
Handing over 1,000 yuan, he asked them to keep the grave tidy—sweeping more often, clearing trash like plastic bottles left by other visitors.
Then he left quietly.