Prologue
~ "Tonight, I care not for humanity—I only think of you." ~
Chapter 1 Begins—
His eyes snapped open.
For a moment, everything was wrong. The light. The stillness. The way his own breath felt foreign in his lungs. Chu Zhi's soul lurched like it had been ripped from one plane of existence and shoved violently into another, as if flung onto a boat mid-storm with no warning. A nauseating dizziness gripped him. The world around him tilted and spun, his thoughts fragmenting in the chaos. He felt like throwing up.
It wasn't just disorientation. It was a collapse of self, a shattering of everything familiar.
A dozen long seconds crawled by before his awareness started to reassemble itself. When it did, it brought with it a flood of memories—not his own. Foreign, vivid, and far too real. The truth settled in like cold lead in his gut.
He had crossed over.
Not into a completely alien world, but one where history had marched to a similar rhythm, only for culture and the arts to branch off wildly. A parallel version of reality. Familiar structures with strange interiors.
"What was I doing before this happened?" Chu Zhi murmured, voice hoarse and unfamiliar in his throat.
He forced himself to dig through the fog. Late night. A project deadline. He'd been polishing a proposal for investors, eyes aching from the screen glow. Founder of a small startup, he'd been pushing through sleepless nights in preparation for their IPO. He remembered the silence of the office, the buzz of the air conditioning, the taste of coffee gone stale. At 3 a.m., he'd taken a sip of iced coffee to celebrate the final draft.
Then—nothing.
"Did I actually die from overwork?" His lips twisted with self-mockery. "Seriously? Worked myself to death even as the boss… I'm probably an insult to capitalists everywhere."
He laughed faintly, then grimaced. His stomach turned violently, nausea surging up again. This time, it wouldn't be ignored. He lurched forward and vomited onto the floor.
The acid burned his throat. His body shook.
It wasn't just physical sickness. It was a visceral rejection of the reality around him.
"God… my stomach…"
Stumbling past the dining table, Chu Zhi half-collapsed over the kitchen sink. He cupped water into his mouth, swishing and swallowing desperately. One hand gripped the cold marble counter for balance, the other pressed to his abdomen, massaging the cramping muscles beneath his shirt.
He didn't know whose body this was, but it wasn't in good shape. The pain dulled to a throb, and with shaking legs, he dragged himself back to a chair. He slumped into it, breathing hard, sweat dampening his temples.
The marble was black-gold, its surface cool against his palm. His right hand, still clutching his stomach, radiated warmth. That contrast—icy stone and burning skin—mirrored his mental state. Two realities, violently colliding.
Bit by bit, the inherited memories organized themselves.
Elementary school. Middle school. High school. Then a leap into the entertainment industry during university. Trainee years. Rising stardom.
Chu Zhi's brows slowly drew together. "The original owner… he was a top-tier idol?"
He lifted the phone clutched in his hand. It unlocked with facial recognition, and the Weibo interface popped up.
@EatingABigOrange [Verified Singer | Representative Works: "My Dream," "Gorgeous Radiance"](11.54M followers | 54 following | 710M interactions)
The most recent post read:[Good morning, world. [Photo]]
The image? A washed-out sunrise. Nothing special. Framing, lighting, colors—all average at best. Yet the post had 180,000 comments.
He blinked.
[SCREECHING LIKE A GROUNDHOG I MISSED YOUUUU!!][HUSBAND ENERGY EXPLODING][Baby's sunrise pics are better than my wedding photos!][I'm waiting for you at Huanghua Airport! Bought a ticket just to breathe your air!!][When an orange grows south of the Huai, it reigns supreme. North of the Huai, it's bitter. My heart follows only you.][Why no selfie, Zhi-ge? I'm dying and only your face can save me.][…]
In his past life, Chu Zhi had despised fan culture—especially obsessive stans. The mindless "gie gie" chants and lack of critical thinking had disgusted him. But if those rabid fans were his rabid fans? Well… that was a different story.
Imagine having a crowd of people who'd blindly support you no matter what. Who wouldn't want that?
Scrolling further, he noticed that whenever the original owner posted a selfie, comments would skyrocket past 200,000—flooded with praise about his flawless skin, god-tier visuals, and declarations of love. Some even went as far as saying they'd "bear his children."
Professionally? A single song of his could sell 5 million digital copies in 24 hours. When he endorsed a certain brand of milk, fans mass-ordered from e-commerce platforms until both Taobao and Pinduoduo's official stores sold out.
But all of that glory? It was from two months ago.
The most recent comments told a different story—
[Former fan turned anti. Sugar baby? Secret marriage? What a joke.]
[How can trash like him still be a celebrity? The entertainment industry is way too lenient—he shouldn't even qualify as a human.]
[How's the steel wool treating you, huh? Enjoy being scrubbed by your sugar mommy? (dog head)]
[Pfft, steel wool? More like taking the 'dry route' from a male sugar daddy.]
[Let's all spit on this scumbag's grave before we go—HETUI!]
[...]
In fandom terms, this was called "the house collapsing." And when a top-tier idol's house collapsed, it was catastrophic. From June to August, his name had trended on Weibo 31 times.
Accusations piled up—diva behavior, song plagiarism, being a kept man, marriage fraud. From the original owner's memories, Chu Zhi knew he'd been framed.
Two months ago, at a business dinner, the original owner and his manager had taken a close photo with a female sponsor. The next day, rumors of him being a sugar baby exploded online. Weibo turned into a deep fryer—instantly boiling over.
Before his agency could issue a statement, a second bombshell dropped—a woman claiming to be his girlfriend of five years came forward with exposés.
Over the next week, more black material flooded the internet. Like lighting a fuse in an armory, the chain reaction was a series of explosions.
Amid the chaos, only two accusations held any truth:
-Plagiarism of his title track (his company had bought the song without proper vetting).
-Diva antics (after skyrocketing to fame, the original owner had let it get to his head, mistreating staff and making unreasonable demands).
"When the media accuses you of being a sugar baby, you'd better actually be one," Chu Zhi muttered. "Then you could use your sugar mommy's connections to shut it down. But alas…"
Alas, he wasn't.
For an idol with no real talent, image and looks were everything. Wife fans were his lifeblood. You could get away with being a diva. You could have parents who were deadbeats. You could even make unpatriotic remarks—there'd always be brainless fans ready to defend you.
But the one thing you could never do? Get into a relationship and shatter your persona. Because then you'd learn the true meaning of love turned to hatred.
And Chu Zhi? He'd been accused of both secret marriage AND being a sugar baby. It was like Mount Everest—instantly avalanching. Of course, the rumors needed to be refuted. But his agency, Kangfei Entertainment, had fumbled the response. Their legal approach backfired spectacularly.
There's a saying: "Justice may be delayed, but it won't be denied."
But rumors and public opinion could delay justice indefinitely. Influencers, self-media, and tabloids began fabricating even more scandals. A whale's death could nourish an ecosystem—a fallen idol could feed an army of clickbait accounts.
Some even claimed he was gay. After two months of enduring this hell, Kangfei Entertainment delivered the final blow—
"Due to limited company resources, we will be suspending further legal support."
Translation: They were cutting him loose.
Surrounded by nothing but malice, the original owner saw no way out. He swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills—a dose that would've killed him twice over. His resolve to die had been absolute. Even in his final moments, he hadn't understood why this was happening to him.
"While there's no shortage of baseless malice and envy in this world, the way these rumors and smear campaigns unfolded—it was too organized, too calculated. Someone spent at least millions orchestrating this. This wasn't random."
Only substantial interests could justify such an attack.
Chu Zhi, with his analytical mind, quickly pinpointed the prime suspect—Dahua Entertainment, the original owner's former agency.
As one of the Big Three in the industry, Dahua had a rigorous trainee system. The original owner had joined at sixteen but refused sexual advances from a department head. As punishment? Five years of zero opportunities.
When his contract expired, he left for Kangfei Entertainment. Dahua hadn't cared—until he blew up overnight as a contestant on "Future Star."
How big was his rise? The show was supposed to crown the best singer-songwriter, but despite his mediocre skills, fans voted him to victory by a landslide—his votes exceeded the 2nd and 3rd place contestants combined. Endorsements and gigs poured in. He became an overnight sensation.
Seeing their former trainee rake in millions? Dahua was livid. They sued him for breaching a "priority clause," but the court only ordered a 1 million RMB penalty.
"You think Dahua would just let it go after that? Hell no."
When legal means failed, they resorted to dirty tactics. And now? Their plan had succeeded.
"The entertainment industry might be a lost cause for me now." Chu Zhi assessed the damage.
The hardwood chair was uncomfortable. He shifted to the sofa, propping a cushion behind his back. His frown deepened—the situation was dire. During his two-year peak, he'd earned millions. But with the scandals, brands like L'Oréal, Givenchy, and HR had terminated contracts and demanded compensation.
Capitalism's golden rule? "Lend umbrellas on sunny days, take them back when it rains."
Every cent he'd made was gone. Now? He was in debt.
[1. "Perfect Harmony 2" breach penalty: 4.7 million RMB
2. Yum China Holdings (McDonald's endorsement reputation damages): 5.09 million RMB
3. "Back to Nature Season 3" breach penalty: 1.97 million RMB
...]
Chu Zhi pulled up a spreadsheet on his phone. Total debt: 47 million RMB (after deducting the agency's share).
A throbbing headache set in. Endorsement fees were high—but breach penalties were astronomical.
"This is a hellish starting point." He massaged his temples. Even as a calm, scheming person, the pressure was crushing.
Then—
Click.
A crisp, keyboard-like sound echoed in his mind.
[The "Idol Personality System" has awakened. Binding in progress—]
[3… 2… 1… Binding complete.]
[Your system assistant is at your service.]