The difference between 王中王 and his early output is night and day. While Bloodz Boi wields plainspoken poignancy in his lyrics, jackzebra modulates between literary chengyu (four-character idioms) and to-the-point emotionality. “The wind, flowers, snow, and moon/Block my eyes/The lights are splendid/Lost in the Grand Prospect Garden,” he raps, using a Song Dynasty chengyu and referencing the classic 18th-century novel Dream of the Red Chamber in the same existential bar (“风花雪月 / 遮住了我的眼 / 灯火辉煌 / 迷失在大观园”). Bringing things back down to earth, he tries to speak confidence into existence amid crippling self-doubt—“I will work hard/I will make progress/I will be happy/I feel fulfilled”—against a Devstacks-like beat with uplifting orchestral synths and Yeat bells (“我会努力 / 我会上进 / 我很开心 / 我很满意”). It’s hard to believe the same internet trickster that made culinary BasedGod ripoffs in 2020 is now the scene’s foremost Chinese lyricist, moving effortlessly between references to both classic literature and Jay Chou.
The tape’s bombastic title belies Zhang’s deep ambivalence. Beginning with the grandiose, MIDI-horn regalia of the thr6x-produced opening run, the record moves into darker, distorted rage territory before balancing angelic, JRPG sanctuary soundscapes with sad, piano-based trap ballads through the second half. When he falls in love, it’s a painful affair. When he disses his haters, he’s not angry; just disappointed. When he boasts, it’s weighted by heavy-is-the-crown angst and deep-seated impostor syndrome: “I am king/King of kings… Covering up my low self-esteem with a few million/Waiting for your folks to come and talk to me,” he raps on the title track (“我是王 / 王中的王…拿着几百万掩盖住我的自卑 / 等你的亲人们来找我聊聊”). By the end of the record, he’s alone at the top: “Can’t let my guard down around my enemies/New friends mean new crises,” he intones above crystalline piano melodies. “Abuse yourself, become a king” (“永远不能对敌人掉以轻心 / 新的朋友对于我等于新的危机…虐待自己变成王”).
Part of Zhang’s appeal is that he represents the everyman. Unlike other drain-minded Sinophone rappers, whose futuristic outfits seem to come straight out of Tetsuya Nomura’s sketchbook, Zhang Zheng Kai is just some guy: On each album cover and Instagram post he appears in nearly the same pose, with an overgrown crew cut, a basic shirt, hands at his side, staring emotionlessly into the camera. Walk by him on the street and you wouldn’t blink an eye: “I’m a regular guy/I’m not like you guys/Not much of a backstory/Sounds bland when I say it” (“我是个普通人 / 跟你们不一样 / 没什么背景故事 / 说出来清汤寡水”). Beneath the luxuriant synths and dreamy textures, Zhang is another young Chinese man living far from home, replying “Okay ma, got it” when his mother texts with Rosie Watson-esque concern (“好吗好的”).
