The image showed Chu Zhi dressed in a firefighter's uniform, standing upright—typical for fire safety awareness posters, as any celebrity would pose for them.
Large slogans were prominently displayed:
"A cigarette butt may be small, but its dangers are limitless."
"Fire safety is everyone's responsibility; preventing fires depends on us all."
The hype was real. No one had expected Chu Zhi to receive official recognition twice in a row. The title of *"the first post-90s celebrity to become a Public Security Ambassador"* was particularly noteworthy—even post-80s stars hadn't achieved that.
User "My Little Koi" commented:
"I'm not a fan of Chu Zhi, but I think he's a perfect fit as a fire safety ambassador. 'Lone Warrior' made me cry my eyes out."
User "Falling in Flight" wrote:
"When it comes to positive celebrity influence, I only recognize Chu Zhi!"
The benefits of good public perception were clear—almost no netizens found the appointment inappropriate. Little Fruits (Chu Zhi's fans) were overjoyed. For fans, it's not about how much money they spend, but whether they see tangible results. Take Li Xingwei, for example—if his album had outperformed Chu Zhi's, his fans would've considered every penny well-spent. Unfortunately for them, Li lost the battle.
(Why do so many people dislike XZ, yet his fans remain fiercely loyal despite being milked for money? Because they get instant gratification—they believe "It's because of us that our idol has the freedom to choose his path and go further.")
The same logic applies here. On one hand, Chu Zhi plays the "hardship card" to strengthen fan loyalty; on the other, he constantly proves that their support yields results.
Shen Yun's Studio
Shen Yun fell silent upon hearing the news. Despite starring in three CCTV dramas and playing Li Dazhao in a patriotic film, plus three Spring Festival Gala appearances, he had never landed such an endorsement.
"Chu Zhi was dragged through the mud before—logically, he shouldn't have any connections. So why does it seem like he has ties to the public security system?" Shen Yun was the "Tax Payment Ambassador," consistently topping the list of highest-tax-paying celebrities while others dodged taxes legally.
His approach served two purposes: Aligning with the state media's preferred image; Avoiding trouble for his father, who was a government official.
"Xiao Hao, come here," Shen Yun called for his manager.
"What's up, Yun-ge?" Xiao Hao hurried over.
"Remember that tree-planting campaign we're involved in? Get them to invite Chu Zhi too," Shen Yun said. "We need to build good relationships."
"Here we go again… " Xiao Hao thought but responded enthusiastically.
Whenever Shen Yun saw potential in a celebrity, he'd throw resources their way to foster goodwill—he'd even done the same for Su Yiwu.
His confidence in arranging the tree-planting invite came from his uncle's position as deputy director of the UN Environment Programme's China office.
Calling Shen Yun a "nepo baby" would be an understatement—he'd brought his own resources into the entertainment industry.
May 7th – Flight to Seoul
Chu Zhi flew to Seoul in the afternoon for a same-night recording. After wrapping up, he'd rest briefly at the hotel before catching a 5 AM flight back to China. As a top-tier star, his schedule was packed—he had an event in Shanghai at 9 PM Beijing time the next day.
A staff member from King of Masked Singer picked him up at the airport—a square-faced man with a side-swept fringe, a hip-hop cap, and an overly trendy outfit, the epitome of Korean style.
"I'm Kim Jae-hee, the show's receptionist. You can call me Jae-hee. Let me take your luggage, Teacher Chu."
"Your Mandarin is excellent," Chu Zhi remarked, barely detecting an accent.
"I majored in Chinese Language and Literature at Kyung Hee University. I've been studying Mandarin for seven or eight years." Jae-hee took Xiao Zhu's suitcase.
The rest of the team—Niu Jiangxue, Lao Qian, and others—carried their own bags.
Jae-hee was struck by Chu Zhi's looks—even more striking than in photos. If not for professional decorum, he'd have asked which plastic surgery clinic Chu Zhi went to. No way someone is this handsome without work done.
"Teacher Chu, have you eaten? Would you like to dine first or rest at the hotel?" Jae-hee's tone bordered on fawning.
Initially, he'd been unhappy about hosting a Chinese celebrity—he knew the language but didn't care for China's entertainment scene. But upon learning Chu Zhi was the most famous post-90s star there, his attitude shifted.
Tens of millions of fans? That's like one-fifth of South Korea's entire population! The thought terrified him, so even if Chu Zhi was a nobody in Korea, Jae-hee would still treat him like royalty.
"What time does recording start?" Chu Zhi asked.
"Currently set for 2 AM," Jae-hee said. "You can rest first. The PD said if you're too tired from travel, rehearsal can be skipped."
Korean showbiz was insane. While China also had late-night recordings, starting at 2 AM was unheard of.
"Rehearsal is necessary—I need to coordinate the arrangement live," Chu Zhi insisted.
"Teacher Chu, your dedication is admirable." Jae-hee guided them to a van headed for the hotel, explaining the rules along the way.
Most of it was useless—Chu Zhi had zero interest in Korea's history, tech, or architecture. The relevant parts were mask selection and choosing a stage name.
Unlike the polished Chinese adaptation, the original Korean version had laughably low-effort masks—wrestler hoods or literal paper cutouts.
With limited options (he should've brought his own), Chu Zhi went for practicality—something that wouldn't obstruct singing. He requested a gold mask and chose the stage name "The Great Demon King" (大魔王), inspired by Chinese sports legends like Zhang Yining (table tennis) and Wang Meng (speed skating).
Jae-hee didn't bat an eye—compared to other contestants' over-the-top names ("Voice of the Heavens, Peerless Under the Sky" or "Even Singing with My Feet, I'm Still the King—Chow Yun-fat"), "Great Demon King" was downright tame.
The group stayed at the Seoul Ramada Hotel, just 2-3 km from MBC's broadcasting center in Sangam-dong, Mapo-gu.
Niu Jiangxue approached Chu Zhi for a discussion.
"Nine Bro, I think the Korean show plans to use you as a stepping stone," she said. "They'll hype up how a Korean singer defeated a famous Chinese star."
"I noticed," Chu Zhi nodded. The moment Jae-hee mentioned skipping rehearsal, he'd sensed the setup.
"Don't worry, Sister Niu. I'm confident," he assured her.
"Alright." She trusted him. "Get some food and rest for now."