In the hotel's Western restaurant, the producer and director were having a casual meal—spaghetti with tomato meat sauce and beef baked rice.
After reviewing the promotional stills, Zhang Guti was satisfied. He didn't know much about rock music, but he knew what glamour was.
"The money wasn't wasted. His looks alone are worth at least five million." Sun Xi couldn't help but wonder—would the show be even better if Chu Zhi played the lead role?
But no. Even a two-episode cameo cost ten million. If he starred in the entire series, the budget would skyrocket to over a hundred million. And The World's Center Calls only had a total investment of just over thirty million.
That was already a significant budget. Some might think, "Thirty million? The male lead, Hu Fengchi, takes fifteen million alone, leaving only five million for the female lead and supporting cast—that's not even enough for their salaries!"
But the fifteen-million fee wasn't paid all at once. Take Hu Fengchi, for example—his contract stipulated an initial deposit of three million, with the remaining eighty percent paid in installments after post-production and platform broadcast.
"So, what do you think? Should we consider my idea?" Liao Dachong, the art director, carrying a plate of steak, unceremoniously squeezed into their table.
Zhang Guti and Sun Xi had originally been sitting at a two-person table with no extra space. Liao Dachong wedged himself in from the side, making the once-spacious table suddenly cramped, elbows bumping.
Idea?
Ah, right. Director Zhang Guti recalled that Liao Dachong had once suggested that the male lead's pre-surgery arc needed a dramatic finale.
What kind of finale?
"A wedding dress performance—marrying the stage." Liao Dachong had passionately explained to the director and producer how brilliant this concept was.
"A man in a wedding dress?" Zhang Guti and the producer had immediately vetoed it. What kind of nonsense was that? Did they think this was some amateur production where anything goes? It'd look ridiculous.
This highlighted a common flaw in filmmaking. The World's Center Calls was marketed as China's first hardcore rock drama (glam rock being a subgenre of hardcore rock), but the only people in the entire crew who actually understood rock culture were the makeup artist and the art director. The producer, screenwriter, director, and actors' knowledge of rock began and ended at long hair and smashing guitars.
A man performing in a wedding dress wasn't unusual in glam rock—whether in Asia or the West. Some even wore full-on ball gowns.
After seeing the promotional stills, Producer Sun Xi mused, "Marrying rock in a wedding dress, then disappearing after plastic surgery… that's undeniably rock. But…"
Both men had to admit—Chu Zhi's face in a wedding dress wouldn't look ugly at all. In fact, it might even blur gender lines with its beauty.
"We'll… think about it," Director Zhang Guti said, still unable to stomach the idea of a man in a wedding dress. It wasn't about aesthetics—it was a moral rejection.
"Think about it?! This look would go down in TV history as an iconic moment! We have a chance to create something legendary here, and you're hesitating?!" Liao Dachong was furious. If not for his remaining self-control, he'd have started cursing. "Why would anyone pass up the chance to create something beautiful?"
He slammed the photos on the table, trying to dumb it down for these two blockheads:
"Look at Chu Zhi's proportions—his waistline, his silhouette—perfect for a white wedding dress. And his face with that golden wig? Add a veil, and the ethereal beauty would be unreal!"
"It'd be like Antiope from Greek myth!" Liao Dachong stood up, too worked up to sit.
"Director Liao, calm down. Filming requires careful consideration," Producer Sun Xi said placatingly.
Zhang Guti nodded, giving a diplomatic non-answer: "We'll definitely take your suggestion seriously."
Liao Dachong could see right through their empty promises. Fools. No vision. He picked up his now-lukewarm steak and moved to another table, muttering, "Too crowded here. I'll eat somewhere else."
Sun and Zhang didn't mind his childish exit. Good riddance—his scowling face was ruining their appetites anyway.
The Heyuan Resort Hotel had two restaurants—the Delix Western Restaurant where they were dining, and the Wuweifang Chinese Restaurant, where Chu Zhi was currently putting on a performance.
"Sorry, this is a bit embarrassing," Chu Zhi said, feigning discomfort.
Female lead Cheng Yun and supporting actress Xiao Man had come to the Chinese restaurant for dinner, only to witness a jaw-dropping sight:
Two bowls of beef noodles, a plate of dumplings, a serving of spicy diced chicken, and a bowl of boiled fish—a carb explosion.
"Uh… I get really hungry sometimes too. Teacher Chu has a great appetite," Cheng Yun said after a stunned pause.
"Teacher Chu, could I take a photo with you?" Xiao Man asked timidly.
"Of course," Chu Zhi agreed.
After Xiao Man took her photo, Cheng Yun followed suit. She hadn't actually wanted one, but since the other girl asked, refusing would've seemed like she was snubbing the superstar.
Once the photos were taken (modern phone cameras had decent resolution), Chu Zhi hesitated, as if struggling to say something.
"Could you… not tell anyone about how much I ate?" He looked genuinely embarrassed.
"Of course, Teacher Chu!" "No problem!" Cheng Yun and Xiao Man replied in unison (though not quite synchronized).
"Thank you, really." Chu Zhi flashed a relieved, heart-melting smile.
After exchanging pleasantries, he left. Both women were momentarily dazed by that smile.
Cheng Yun recovered first. She had stronger immunity to male charm, but Chu Zhi's extra request had left a deeper impression. "So what if he eats a lot?"
As the saying goes: If you're handsome, you're a 'foodie.' If you're average, you're just a 'glutton.' Chu Zhi was undeniably the former.
"Having a 'foodie' persona is really popular with fans. Why is Teacher Chu so afraid of people knowing?" Cheng Yun wondered aloud.
"Maybe… Teacher Chu isn't a 'foodie.' Maybe he's just binge-eating because of his condition…" Xiao Man said quietly.
"Binge-eating?" Cheng Yun had seen the news. It clicked. "Is his condition that serious? He seemed so normal just now—warm, gentle, completely fine."
"Yunyun, do you think someone who binge-eats yet stays that thin is normal?" Xiao Man pointed out. "He needs to drink a lot of alcohol just to numb himself enough to perform."
Right. The evidence was all there. How could he be fine?
"Online theories say Teacher Chu either has agoraphobia or PTSD. Now it seems PTSD is more likely."
Xiao Man, a semi-fan herself, felt a pang of sadness. "With all the recent discussions, he probably doesn't want to take up more public attention or let more people know about his illness. He must've been trying to hide the binge-eating just now."
Cheng Yun didn't know much about PTSD, but plenty of films and shows depicted it. People with post-traumatic stress struggled to control their emotions—let alone be a celebrity.
"Teacher Chu must be trying his best to treat the world with kindness," Xiao Man said.
"Then he must be suffering so much…" Cheng Yun couldn't help but think.
And thus, Cheng Yun took her first step toward becoming a Little Fruit—overthinking everything.
Originally, Chu Zhi hadn't planned his next move, but after seeing the fans' speculations, he thought, "Damn, that makes so much sense. I'm adopting this narrative."
Depression + PTSD? That's like doubling down on tragedy!
Of course, milking sympathy required timing and finesse. Once a year was enough—any more, and the public would get annoyed. Everything needed balance. And when it came to balance, you could always trust Chu Zhi—the Master of Emotional Manipulation, the Emperor of Acting, the Honest and Reliable Charmer—to nail it.
So, Chu Zhi began laying the groundwork for next year's sympathy campaign—solidifying his PTSD image!