Chapter 72: A Man

Writing songs wasn’t a problem for Zhou Yi, as long as he first knew the general plot of *Rush Hour 2* and where in the film the producers wanted to insert specific music.

Due to his age, Zhou Yi hadn’t watched *Rush Hour 2*, the peak box-office film of Jackie Chan’s career, in full during his previous life.

After all, the film was released globally in 2001, and at that time he was still in second grade.

Later, as he grew older, he mostly watched Hong Kong films starring Jackie Chan, Zhou Xingchi, and Liu Dehua, as well as TV dramas co-produced by mainland China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan.

He only saw a few highlights from Jackie Chan’s *Rush Hour* series as an adult, while watching Jackie Chan compilations or introductions on Bilibili, following the UP master’s commentary—just enough to know the title was famous, but never watched it through completely.

After breakfast, Zhou Yi closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, frantically sifting through memories buried deep in his mind, and soon found several excellent compilations he’d watched on Bilibili in his previous life—

A distinct Michael Jackson vibe immediately washed over him, especially the black character who partnered with Jackie Chan as co-lead.

“That black guy really did seem to have a good relationship with Michael Jackson…”

After recalling everything, Zhou Yi opened his eyes, thought for a moment, and decisively set his target song on Bruno Mars, later dubbed the “Grammy’s golden child.”

From the fragments in his memory, Bruno Mars’s musical style matched the film’s tone well.

Now he just needed Qian Jiang to secure the slot, confirm with the producers which scenes required music, and then directly copy it.

If the producers were smart, they might even ride the wave of Michael Jackson’s overseas popularity.

After settling on his target, Zhou Yi changed clothes and left his hotel room, heading for Warner’s Hong Kong branch.

As an international giant, Warner Hong Kong was, in Zhou Yi and Sun Yanzi’s eyes before they rose to fame, less a branch and more the core.

The reason? Simply because the top male star, Guo Fucheng, and the top female star, Zheng Xiuwen, were both permanently based in Hong Kong.

“The company has already prepared the gown you’ll wear tonight for the awards ceremony, and the makeup artist is ready. Tonight, you just need to adjust your mindset—there won’t be nearly as many awards here as there were on the mainland.”

As his agent, Qian Jiang feared Zhou Yi, newly crowned on the mainland, might feel a psychological drop, and reminded him as they walked.

Based on Zhou Yi’s 2000 achievements, the only award he could reliably win in Hong Kong was Best New Artist.

Unless the Top Ten Chinese Golden Melodies completely lost their dignity and openly targeted him.

“Relax, I understand—”

“Zhou Yi! Zhou Yi! Was Fan Bing in your hotel room last night? We saw her pick you up, and you had dinner together!”

“Zhou Yi! Your other rumored girlfriend, Xiao Yaxuan, has just arrived in Hong Kong—how are you handling your relationship with Fan Bing and Xiao Yaxuan?!”

“Zhou Yi, Zhou Yi! Is Fan Bing the third party?!”

“Zhou Yi, Zhou Yi! Are you cheating? Or have you already broken up with Xiao Yaxuan?!”

The moment Zhou Yi stepped out of the hotel, the paparazzi lurking outside surged forward before he could react—

Taken completely off guard, Zhou Yi’s eyelid twitched; his years of physical training triggered an instinctive reflex—he stepped back, avoiding the paparazzi who lunged toward him.

Experienced Warner staff and hotel security lined up in two rows, forcefully repelling every paparazzo trying to break through the barrier.

Flashbulbs blinded Zhou Yi’s eyes; he inwardly marveled at the professionalism of Hong Kong paparazzi, yet his face remained expressionless. Calmly, he took the sunglasses Qian Jiang offered, placed them on his nose, and showed no sign of disturbance.

“Please make way, please make way, everyone, kindly step aside and do not obstruct passage.”

The hotel security guards became emotionless echo machines, clearing a path for Zhou Yi’s departure.

“Zhou Yi! Zhou Yi, are you guilty? Xiao Yaxuan’s hotel is three streets away from yours—have you really fallen out?”

“Zhou Yi! Some say you’re not just stepping on two boats—you’re stepping on four or five. Is that true?!”

“…”

In the noisy crowd, Zhou Yi, who should have kept walking, suddenly stopped.

Seeing trouble brewing, Qian Jiang reached out to grab him, but Zhou Yi waved him off, turned instead toward the paparazzi whose faces were flushed and veins bulging from shouting questions, and stepped forward—

The paparazzi, thinking they’d get another beating, instantly lit up with excitement, pushing forward and battering the human wall formed by hotel security, terrified they’d miss out on Zhou Yi’s next punch.

“Zhou Yi, you—”

“At 9 a.m. today, I’ll be trying on clothes at Warner, then touring Hong Kong’s bustling attractions, and attending a company event—with Fan Bing as my guide;

“I’ll have lunch with Fan Bing, between 12:10 and 1 p.m., then head to Tsim Sha Tsui.

“After that, I’ll meet Xiao Yaxuan—she still owes me a trophy and a favor for running errands. Around 4 p.m., we’ll go together to the Hong Kong Sports Stadium for the pre-awards gathering.”

Here, Zhou Yi paused deliberately, lifted his sunglasses slightly with his right hand, and smirked: “If you can intercept me within my schedule, I’ll answer every question honestly—no evasions. Whether you get the exclusive scoop depends entirely on your own skills.”

“So, can you please move aside so I can get to the company?

“Otherwise, if we just stand here wasting time, I’ll get angry—and that won’t be good for anyone.”

“…???”

The Hong Kong paparazzi, never having seen such a tactic, were collectively stunned.

What did that mean? Which celebrity voluntarily reveals their full schedule?

And down to every single time and location?

So cooperative?

Shouldn’t they be yelling and fighting? They’d even prepared to file workplace injury reports.

Zhou Yi’s behavior completely threw the paparazzi, who’d mentally prepared for a confrontation, off guard—so much so that, moved by his apparent sincerity, they instinctively parted to let him pass.

Zhou Yi smiled contentedly, grabbed the equally bewildered Qian Jiang, and ran off. Before getting into the chauffeured car, he turned back and waved cheerfully at the paparazzi, his face beaming: “See you later?”

“…”

“What are you doing, Yi? Our schedule doesn’t include any of that!”

Once inside the car, Qian Jiang sighed as he shut the door: “Your public image matters—don’t play these kinds of tricks.”

“I’m not playing tricks—I’m just stating my actual schedule. But against the company, I’m powerless—you’ve assigned me new plans I can’t refuse.”

Zhou Yi, legs crossed, grinned wider: “Right, Uncle Qian?”

“…”

Thus, when Zhou Yi’s incredibly detailed schedule spread across the entire Hong Kong paparazzi circle before 9 a.m., some skeptical reporters, tempted by their bosses and paychecks, rushed to the locations with their gear.

After all, this mainland kid shouldn’t be so skilled at lying, should he?

Especially since he’d blurted out the schedule under sudden pressure, with such vivid details—times, places, people—all accounted for—clearly not fabricated.

Then they showed up—and found nothing.

Not only Zhou Yi, but not even a trace of Fan Bing—every one of them hauled their cameras and lenses for nothing.

“These paparazzi are so stupid—how could anyone believe this? Anyone would know it’s impossible.”

At 9 a.m., in the hotel room, Xiao Yaxuan, having heard the news from Zhou Yi, couldn’t stop laughing.

“Paparazzi are like this—even if there’s only a one-in-a-thousand chance, they’ll believe it anyway. After all, I’m just a nineteen-year-old kid.”

Warner’s “honest kid” Zhou Yi, watching Xiao Yaxuan try on her gown, shrugged helplessly.

Hearing this, Xiao Yaxuan grew curious: “Aren’t you afraid of angering Hong Kong’s paparazzi?”

“Let them come to the mainland and stalk me—I’ll show them what a real lawyer’s notice looks like. As for Hong Kong? Doesn’t matter.”

“What about Fan Bing?”

“She probably wishes she could spread rumors with me—if she didn’t still have a shred of pride, she’d have crawled over to me last night.”

“Oh?” Xiao Yaxuan narrowed her eyes, drew out her tone, and wore a sly smile.

“No.”

“…”

???

Xiao Yaxuan, still not catching on, rolled her eyes at the mischievous grin on the man’s face: “Sometimes I wonder what’s really in your head—you can twist even normal words into something perverse.”

“Can’t help it—maybe it’s just innate talent.”

The real “trophy-delivery” Zhou Yi spread his hands: “Where are we eating lunch?”

“Let’s go—”

Xiao Yaxuan was about to answer when Zhou Yi’s phone suddenly rang—

Zhou Yi frowned, pulled out his Nokia, and checked the caller ID: Jackie Chan.

(End of Chapter)