Answers and explanations from the “veterans” have for the first time helped the “Fame and Fortune” mini squad, who have been blindly following the “Owl’s” rhythm, find their footing. Like a ship sailing through dense fog, suddenly the mist clears, allowing not only a clear view of the path they’ve come from but also a glimpse of the island ahead.
Right, there’s still the island ahead!
Xu Wang slapped his forehead. “Almost forgot!” He hurriedly leaned closer to the purple circle and asked Long Legs, “What exactly is in the third level?”
Unexpectedly, Tall Guy shook his head leisurely. “I can’t tell you now.”
“Now?” Xu Wang raised an eyebrow. “Then when can you?”
“When it’s almost five o’clock,” Long Legs explained systematically. “According to the agreement, we provide information, and you don’t send us back early. I’ve provided the information now, but whether you’ll really not send us back early, who knows. You hold the initiative, so of course, we need to keep some information as a guarantee of your compliance.”
He smiled amiably, but he was also transparently shrewd.
Stick Figure’s cunningness was written all over his face, but Long Legs’ was hidden under “calmness”. Xu Wang strongly suspected that, in reality, this guy was a wolf in sheep’s clothing*, a sly businessman.
*Pretending to be a pig and eating tigers (个扮猪吃老虎) Idiom referring to using scheming to deceive, deliberately pretending to be weak to let the opponent ignore you, and then taking the opportunity to win the final victory.
“Xu Ge, Wu Ge, I’m back.” Kuang Jinxin’s voice came from the “Clever Burrow”.
The moment he finished speaking, he had already climbed up, agile as a groundhog.
Seeing him alone, Wu Sheng asked in confusion, “Where’s Lao Qian?”
Kuang Jinxin subconsciously glanced at the four inside the purple circle, and considering the image in front of their opponents, some words must be chosen carefully. “Er, he’s… still discussing life with the captain!”
Inside the cockpit.
Qian Ai stood behind the captain and co-pilot’s seats, overseeing the flight path like a supervisor, occasionally tapping the shoulders of the two. “Hey, hey, you’re veering off. This way, this way. Don’t dive into that cloud cluster—”
The co-pilot wanted to turn around but couldn’t. His neck was restrained, and he could only beg in front, “Please look properly. I haven’t moved my hands at all, okay. It’s all on autopilot now…”
The captain, likewise, limited in movement, looked ahead with a tired spirit. “Sir, we’ve already made the broadcast as you requested. Could you please leave the cockpit? Not for anything else, but at least let us focus on flying and ensure flight safety.”
One against two, Qian Ai was a bit flustered and scratched his head, muttering, “I didn’t do anything. Besides, it’s all on autopilot, isn’t it…”
The captain said, “But your presence behind us is creating huge pressure. People under high stress can easily lose control, like suddenly switching to manual control, then deviating the route, engine shutting down, and the plane stalling…”
The more Qian Ai listened, the more he sweated, hastily interjecting, “Don’t threaten me!”
The co-pilot, enduring the pain, made a valiant effort to turn around. “It’s you who are threatening us!!!”
Then, he maintained the posture of fiercely turning back to glare at Qian Ai—his neck stuck, unable to move anymore.
It wasn’t that the co-pilot had any neck problems, but both he and the captain had been adorned by Qian Ai with “heavy shackles”. These were two wooden three-dimensional Chinese characters, similar in size to ancient shackles but even thicker, one “囡” and one “回”*, respectively, fitted around the two men’s necks like buckles, making even turning their heads difficult.
*Clarity: Child 囡, Circle 回. Note: These are the Chinese characters that have become three-dimensional, so look at the characters themselves, not at the meaning.
More importantly, these two “characters” were responsive to Qian Ai. If anyone tried to remove or destroy them, Qian Ai would be alerted.
The ability to create any three-dimensional Chinese character as a weapon through a shout—this was the reward he received in the first level, [(Offense) Words Like Pearls and Jade].
Unfortunately, for the three-dimensional characters he created, Qian Ai’s “sensory” and “elimination” powers were always present, but the “manipulation” power only existed at the moment of their creation. So, he could always sense if they were being touched or destroyed and make these space-occupying characters disappear anytime, but if he wanted to remotely move them, either as swords or shackles, the opportunity was only at the moment they were created.
But these were all details for later. At first use, Qian Ai felt the effects were utterly baffling—who could possibly fathom it!!!
To prevent the co-pilot from getting really hurt, Qian Ai quickly went up to “gently” turn his head back. Despite this, the co-pilot was still dissatisfied. “Couldn’t you have shouted ‘口*’ instead of ‘回’?
*Mouth.
Qian Ai tapped him lightly on the back of the head. “Such a big ‘口’, would that still be a shackle? That’s a necklace!”
Although the item’s effects were bewildering, both the captain and co-pilot seemed to accept it without barriers, which Qian Ai could only understand as “same worldview, same bunch of crazies.”
“From now on, until landing, is it all on autopilot? No need for manual control?” Qian Ai suddenly asked for confirmation.
The captain replied, “Manual control is needed for landing. Although autopilot can also complete a blind landing, given that landing is influenced by many factors like air currents, environment, ground conditions, etc., a tiny miscalculation can cause a huge accident, so switching back to manual control is safer for landing.”
Qian Ai didn’t know how to fly a plane, but since the captain said so, he believed him.
Taking a deep breath, Qian Ai shouted loudly four times, “000000—”
If one had to pick the biggest advantage of this stationery, it would have to be its immediacy. The [One Fell Swoop] and [Beyond the Nine Heavens] attacks they had faced, including Wu Sheng’s later [Wind That Sweeps Away the Clouds], were all one-off attack techniques. They were powerful but used up instantly. His stationery was a bit tricky to use and not always handy, and its lethality was even mood-dependent, but it had one good point—it was instantly available whenever he shouted.
As for how long this stationery could be used, whether its time effectiveness was measured in time, levels, or number of characters? Who cares? Isn’t there a saying, “When life gives you joy, revel in it; why bother thinking too broadly*?”
*This is a line from the poem Bringing the Wine by Li Bai.
As Qian Ai’s roar fell, six wooden three-dimensional Arabic numerals “0’s” instantly appeared out of nowhere, like a sudden downpour of numbers from the sky!
Qian Ai gazed at the “0”s, trying hard to squint and grimace, communicating his intentions!
The “0’s”, halfway to their descent, suddenly stopped. Then in the next moment, they scattered with a “whoosh” and firmly wrapped the captain and co-pilot in their seats, from chest to waist, then from waist to legs, three for each, firmly restrained, just right.
Shackles get!
Although the bomb’s countdown was four hours, and by all accounts, the plane should also fly for the full four hours, this was the “Owl”. Who knows if it might throw in an “early forced landing” twist, so it was better safe than sorry.
“I’ll come back to unlock you before we descend. And, I’m not a bad guy. I’m genuinely a righteous and passionate young man!” After summarizing everything in one breath, Qian Ai didn’t linger to see if the pilots understood. Feeling satisfied, he opened the round glass cover and crawled back into the “Clever Burrow”, quickly returning beneath the tea station at the tail of the plane.
“Wu Sheng,” Qian Ai called his teammate softly, looking up from under the hole. As soon as he saw Wu Sheng looking down, he immediately asked with caution, “Where are the other two?”
Qian Ai’s sense of crisis was always proportional to his robust physique.
“They went into the very back of the tea room. Been there for half a day now,” Wu Sheng first stated the fact, then added his reasoning. “They might be planning some shocking tactics, or maybe they’re snacking on airplane meals.”
Qian Ai continued, “Do you need me up there?”
“That’s a rather nonsensical question.” Wu Sheng squatted down, like a worried class teacher educating a stubborn student. “With three hours left until the explosion, and not counting us and them, there are still 92 passengers and 6 flight attendants. If we start questioning from the beginning, each person can only talk for 1.8 minutes. If we simultaneously question in multiple paths, the inquiry time for each passenger will double based on the number of us involved in the questioning…”
“No need to explain. I get it!” Qian Ai interrupted his teammate, climbing out with lightning speed, tackling his life’s first endeavor with speed as fast as the wind.
Wu Sheng watched him, not only getting it immediately but also acting on it and nodded in satisfaction.
Qian Ai smiled at him and then stretched his neck to peek into the tea room. “Xu Wang, Xiao Kuang, hurry up and come out when you’re done. We don’t have much time!”
More importantly, I miss you guys… TAT
Perhaps Qian Ai’s heartfelt call was too sincere, for not even a minute later, Xu Wang and Kuang Jinxin indeed came out. They didn’t carry anything in their hands, but they indeed looked like they had formulated some “secret tactic”. Before returning to the purple circle, Xu Wang even specifically put his arm around Kuang Jinxin’s shoulder, earnestly saying, “I’m leaving it to you.”
Kuang Jinxin patted his chest. “Leave it to me!”
Relieved, Xu Wang turned to see Qian Ai had returned, knowing the cockpit situation must have been settled. He didn’t inquire further about the “settling process” but directly addressed the current situation. “Xiao Kuang will guard those four, and the three of us will inquire about the password clues.”
“No problem,” Qian Ai readily agreed. “Where should I start?”
Xu Wang didn’t answer but looked at Wu Sheng—while not great at external communication, Wu Sheng was still trustworthy for internal planning.
Wu Sheng understood immediately, or perhaps he’d been eager to contribute after being sidelined for half the day, promptly saying, “Like I just mentioned, now there are 180 minutes left—no, 178 minutes now—a total of 96 people. If we proceed in three lines, it’s best to keep each person’s conversation within 4 minutes. This way, we’ll still have 50 minutes left for deduction and bomb disarming. If there are no issues…” He quickly surveyed the entire cabin, finally fixing his gaze on Xu Wang. “Lao Qian, you question the first-class cabin, I’ll take business class, you take economy class. After we finish, if there are no clues, we’ll continue in economy class.”
Xu Wang had no objections, just a simple lack of understanding. “Why am I assigned to the most crowded and chaotic economy class?”
“Why do you all ask such simple questions today?” Wu Sheng looked baffled. “You’re a chatterbox, and you talk fast.”
Qian Ai turned around, silently heading towards first-class to avoid being caught by the sports rep’s gratified smile—knowing he wasn’t the only one tortured by the class monitor, he felt balanced.
Just as Qian Ai, with an open mind, passed through the business class, Wu Sheng, who had been kicked, walked to the end of the economy class, and Xu Wang, who regretted only kicking once, also moved forward to the front half of the economy class. At that time, the handsome guy in the purple circle at the tail of the plane suddenly loudly reminded, “If you notice something is wrong, quickly end the conversation. Don’t linger—”
He really shouted with all his might. Not to mention Qian Ai, who had only reached business class; even if he’d entered first class, he probably could still hear.
Xu Wang heard it most clearly and felt the strongest sense of “concern” in the reminder. But this concern came from their opponents, so its authenticity and intention were rather delicate, and they didn’t have much more time to spend on those few.
Still, caution is never wrong, so they’ll heed it and act accordingly.
The bomb that was still counting down made everyone on the plane anxious; this wasn’t a good time for spectating. So, when Xu Wang popped up from the ground and shouted, all the seated passengers turned back, but none left their seats. Several reflexively tightened their seat belts; those who happened to be walking immediately left the aisle, darting into nearby seats, regardless of whether they were pressing down on someone else’s thighs.
The passengers “cleared the field” themselves, and the “brawl” ended as quickly as it started, resulting in a complete silence once the victor was determined.
The four men inside the purple circle, all male, ranged in age from twenty-two or twenty-three to twenty-eight or twenty-nine. Though all had unfriendly expressions, they were tall, handsome, thin, and fair, with a clear division of labor.
Bystanders dared not breathe too loudly, and the captives were unwilling to speak first and show weakness. The silent standoff was a test of the victor’s resolve. But this was hardly a challenge for Xu Wang.
He squatted down comfortably, directing orders down the hole with methodical precision. “Xiao Kuang, Lao Qian, cockpit plan. Go!”
From the hole that shouldn’t have been there, two voices full of vigor responded, “Roger!”
Four minutes later, the intercom came alive with the voice that had greeted everyone at the start of the flight, now spreading throughout the cabin again.
“Good day, passengers. I am the captain of this flight. Earlier, due to some unforeseen circumstances, we caused unnecessary panic among you all, and for that, on behalf of all crew members, I express our deepest apologies. Now, the dangerous individuals have been successfully apprehended by four courageous young people, and the dangerous object will soon be dismantled. You can relax and enjoy the remainder of your journey. We wish you a pleasant trip—”
The final blessing was resolute, more a declaration of the triumph of justice and an unyielding spirit than a mere well-wishing.
Instantly, the cabin burst into vigorous applause; some passengers even started cheering and celebrating.
The tension eased, and noise returned. The flight attendants timely pushed out carts to distribute water, allowing passengers to “toast” with their drinks.
No one worried about the “four dangerous individuals” at the tail of the plane anymore. After all, two “courageous young people” were keeping watch.
The four inside the circle had already widened their eyes; their facial muscles twitched upon hearing the broadcast. By now, the handsome one couldn’t hold back his indignation. “We acknowledge your superiority in skills, but to claim the moral high ground is shameless!”
Xu Wang maintained his squat, eye level with them, appearing to be in a position for a good conversation. In reality, it was for an easier “exchange of words”. “A sneak attacker talking to me about morality?!”
The handsome one was indignant and about to retort but was stopped by the tallest among them. He seemed two or three years older than the handsome one, maybe around twenty-five or twenty-six, but he exuded a calmness from his head to his long legs. Including when he was captured, he was the calmest.
“How did you get into the cockpit?” He didn’t waste time on futile arguments and got straight to the point. “Did you use your [Stationery Box]?”
Wu Sheng, who enjoyed straightforward conversations, squatted down to be on the same level as him. Instead of answering, he asked, “Why did you attack us? Is the submission of tasks on the open-sharing platform exclusive?”
The tall one paused, taken aback by Wu Sheng’s sudden interjection and the content of it.
Xu Wang sighed, acting as a translator. “Are these types of levels where different teams can see each other only passable by one team in the end?”
The tall one didn’t immediately answer—not so much because the question was hard, but it seemed he was pondering their negotiation strategy.
The skinniest one, quick-witted, seized the critical situation. “You’re just from 1/23, right? No need to deny it, or else you wouldn’t have exposed yourselves so easily.” He crossed his legs and sat up straight, starting to talk. “But we’re not. We might not have been through hundreds of battles, but we have far more experience than you, and we know much more. Now, you have the advantage in force, and we have the advantage in information. Why not both sides step back and share for a win-win situation?”
Xu Wang mirrored him by crossing his legs, adopting a posture of ready discussion. “I’m all ears.”
The skinny one nodded in approval, seemingly appreciating Xu Wang’s pragmatism. “We can tell you everything we know about the explicit rules, implicit rules, and unspoken rules here, in exchange, you let us go, and we compete fairly.”
“What if you attack us after getting out?” Xu Wang queried.
“If we could attack, we would have done it earlier. We’ve used up all our items. Besides, the risk is higher for us; what if you decide not to let us go after getting the information?”
“You can reveal 50% first, then we let you out, and you complete the remaining 50% afterwards.”
“That’s exactly what I mean!”
“Then I have a suggestion too.” Xu Wang tilted his head, elbow propped on his knee, hand supporting his head, casually proposing, “We ask questions, you answer. If you refuse, we’ll stab you one by one and send you back, courtesy of the ‘Owl’.”
The skinny one’s face changed, and after a long moment, he retorted, “You can’t possibly have knives on you.”
Xu Wang waved his arm with a smile. “But we have items. Want to test it out?”
“You ask, we’ll answer.” The tall one intervened with his usual composure. “The condition is that you don’t need to let us out of the circle, but you also can’t send us back.”
“What if I break the deal?”
“We’re already trapped and are no threat to you. It’s unnecessary to waste another stationery. Moreover, the world is round, this place even more so. We’ll inevitably meet again, and you wouldn’t want to make an enemy unnecessarily.”
Xu Wang nodded, preferring to communicate with this more understanding individual over the cunning skinny one or the impulsive handsome one.
“Hand it over.” He reached out to Wu Sheng.
Reluctantly stripped of his “questioning rights”, Wu Sheng handed over the list of questions they’d compiled while observing from below—after all, he’d already suffered a setback at his first attempt.
Thinking dejectedly, facing an opponent with poor comprehension was like using a good knife to cut a broken pot.
“Name.” Wu Sheng’s “list” didn’t have such mundane questions; this was Xu Wang’s own first inquiry.
The tall one wasn’t keen on complying. “We needn’t bother with names here. Let’s not involve the real world.”
Xu Wang was amenable: “Fine, then I’ll call you Long Legs, Handsome, Stick Figure, and Fair Face.”
Long Legs: “……”
Handsome: “Okay.”
Stick Figure: “……”
Fair Face: “Doesn’t matter.”
“Xu Wang.” Without warning, Xu Wang introduced himself, then pointed beside him. “Wu Sheng, the Wu from the Three Kingdoms Wei, Shu, and Wu, and Sheng from playing the se and blowing the sheng*.”
*Clarity: Wu (吴) is from the Three Kingdoms, where it was divided between the dynastic states of Cao Wei, Shu Han, and Eastern Wu. Sheng (笙) is from the phrase playing the se (an ancient term for a zither) and the sheng (one of the oldest Chinese instruments). Modern term would probably be translated as “playing the zither and the flute”.
Wu Sheng: “Why is my introduction so detailed…”
Without waiting for a response, Xu Wang picked up the list and began questioning. The first question was the same as before. “In this kind of level where different teams can see each other, is it true that only one team can pass in the end?”
Long Legs: “Yes.”
Xu Wang: “How do you know?”
Long Legs: “Before attacking you, we were the victims of an attack.”
Xu Wang: “Was your 1/23 also just your own team?”
Long Legs: “Every team’s 1/23 is likely just their own team, so it’s easy to tell you guys just came from the first level.”
Xu Wang: “Were you also forcibly pulled in?”
“Yeah.” Long Legs barely audibly sighed, seemingly wanting to laugh, but the corner of his mouth twisted bitterly. “This damn place, can’t escape, can’t even complain.”
Xu Wang disliked seeing others so dispirited, especially when he could empathize. Though he wasn’t as deeply aggrieved as Long Legs, it was still distressing, so he swiftly changed the topic. “Was the first level also in Beijing?”
Long Legs nodded.
Xu Wang: “Do you know about the thing with coordinates?”
Long Legs: “Just search a satellite map online. Even the slowest would understand.”
Xu Wang: “If each team in the first level is independent and all in Beijing, in the same coordinates, why didn’t we encounter other teams when we returned to reality?”
Long Legs: “Because the trigger points are different.”
Xu Wang: “So your idiom guessing spot wasn’t an ice waterfall?”
They had already asked Qian Ai this question when observing from below. However, according to Wu Sheng, one person’s account wasn’t enough, so they needed to confirm with these four as well.
“Ice waterfall?” Tall Guy seemed to hear the term for the first time, shaking his head. “Never seen it. We all live beyond the West Fifth Ring, and the coordinates for the idiom trigger points are nearby.”
“West Fifth Ring, huh.” Xu Wang had anticipated this answer. “We were all around North Third Ring, and another new teammate was coming from Daxing—that’s even farther south… South Sixth Ring…”
“So, it’s impossible to see each other.” Tall Guy sighed. “Beijing is big enough to isolate a dozen or even dozens of teams.”
The first level worked hard to isolate everyone, creating an impression of mutual exclusion. The second level deliberately brought people together for competition. Could there be anything more malicious!
Xu Wang felt angry inside, but one thing at a time. This was the “Owl’s” doing, and both they and their opponents were victims.
After taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, Xu Wang continued to inquire, “How many nights have you been trying to pass this level?”
Tall Guy: “N.”
Xu Wang: “?”
Tall Guy: “Countless. N≥20.”
Xu Wang: “Er, the combat level of your team…”
Handsome: “Ask questions. Don’t attack us personally!”
“Every time we come in, the relationships among the entire flight’s passengers change, making any clues we gathered last time useless.” It was rare for one with the glowing fair complexion to speak so much in one breath, but his tone was still as flat and unemotional as ever.
But clearly, his words were to back up his handsome teammate, as the latter immediately seized upon this as strong evidence for rebuttal. “Right, so each time it’s like a new test paper, starting from zero. Who knows how many days you’d twist and turn!”
“Alright, alright.” Xu Wang decided to cut the discussion short, not wanting to waste words with them, and directly turned to Long Legs to continue with the next question. “Why so eager to make a move? If you waited until we nearly collected all the clues or even when the code is about to be cracked before acting, couldn’t you just reap the benefits?”
“The premise of reaping the benefits is that you manage to catch the fish, but there’s limited time, and we trust ourselves more,” Long Legs replied.
“……” Xu Wang thought better of boasting about any efficiency in clearing levels considering they exposed themselves right upon entering the airport. “What happens if we fail to turn in our… submission…” he suddenly paused. As his mind was translating Wu Sheng’s alien-like language and following the line of questioning, he stumbled upon two words he’d never considered, causing him to freeze momentarily.
After a long pause, he asked again, more seriously, “What’s the punishment for failing our submission?”
For the first time, a flicker of emotion appeared in Long Legs eyes, as if recalling something unpleasant. After a while, he slowly answered, “Return to the starting point.”
Xu Wang was stunned. “The first level?”
Tall Guy nodded. “Yes, 1/23.”
Wu Sheng suddenly interjected with a question not on the list. “Stick Figure just said you could tell us about the third level, which means you’ve been to 3/23. So, does failing a submission either here or the next level mean returning to the first level?”
Stick Figure: “Just because I don’t speak doesn’t mean I agree with that nickname…”
Long Legs: “Yes, back to 1/23.”
Wu Sheng: “So, resubmitting in repeated levels yields no rewards?”
Long Legs was surprised. “You know?”
Wu Sheng: “Isn’t it obvious? N≥20, failure means going back; you must have spent at least ten days on 1/23. If submitting earned rewards, your [Stationery Box] should be full by now. There’s no need to be threatened by us.”
Long Legs: “……” The one in front of him was indeed quick-witted, but he still preferred to communicate with someone else!
Wu Sheng then asked, “Is there any indication when you’re sent back?”
Long Legs sighed. “If mockery counts.”
Wu Sheng frowned. “What do you mean?”
“If you fail to submit, the [Report Card] will scroll out a sentence.” Long Legs said, twitching his mouth corner in a slight sneer, emphasizing each word, “Retreat is the only path for the incompetent.”
He spoke clearly but softly, with disdain and contempt undertones. If the sentence wasn’t in text but was spoken by the “Owl”, then it would probably carry the same tone—infuriating yet unanswerable.
Wu Sheng had no more questions.
Xu Wang’s list was almost complete, but his heart was far from settled. He couldn’t formulate questions as detailed and well-considered as Wu Sheng, so digesting all these answers also took time.
In contrast, Wu Sheng’s brain processor was apparently several generations ahead. While Xu Wang was still ruminating, Wu Sheng had already stood up easily, dusting off his pants.
Knowing all he wanted to know, for Wu Sheng, this “conversation” was nearing its end—
Putting his hands on his knees, he leaned his body forward and approached the faces of the four inside the circle, smiling elegantly. “Attacking us wasn’t your biggest mistake tonight. Not believing in our efficiency in clearing the level—that’s the real mistake.”
The four inside the circle were first baffled, then gradually their expressions turned indescribable.
Xu Wang silently turned his head, internally asking the heavens—why others’ domineering bosses make looking cool so effortless, while his white moonlight at the top of his heart forever emits a hint of eighth-grader syndrome*!
*Chunibyo. Term used to describe someone, typically in their early teens, who has grandiose delusions, who desperately wants to stand out, and who has convinced themselves that they have hidden knowledge or secret powers.
What was even more troubling was, he really fucking likes him. TAT
While drawing lots, Ran Lin was hoping to share a room with Xia Xinran, or at least Zhang Beichen or Gu Jie. It’s not that he had anything against Tang Xiaoyu, but having never met him before, their first interaction might inevitably lead to awkward moments with no topics to talk about.
But even Tang Xiaoyu was a better option than Lu Yiyao.
Regarding the issue of gaining popularity, objectively speaking, it was already a closed chapter. He had apologized to Lu Yiyao, and Lu Yiyao didn’t hold a grudge. He stopped provoking, and Lu Yiyao didn’t dwell on it, so the dust had settled.
However, emotionally, the not-so-happy memories of their acquaintance still lingered. The saying “a smile can bury all past grievances*” is touching because most people can’t do it. It’s already quite impressive to nod in acknowledgment upon meeting again, expecting a deep brotherly bond is simply unreasonable. So, while it was fine when all five of them were together, the thought of being alone in a closed space with Lu Yiyao made him feel a bit pressured.
*Refers to individuals who have had past conflicts or misunderstandings meet again and are able to share a genuine smile, signifying the dissolution of past animosities and the beginning of a new understanding or reconciliation. The key point is that these people have the grace to forgive and move on from the past, which a lot of people can’t.
Moreover, based on the experience of the first three episodes, the filming usually lasted until about 10 or 11 p.m. After that, when the cameramen would leave, he and Lu Yiyao would enter a phase of “true selves”—and God knows what they could talk about. The thought of that desolate scene with a cold wind blowing through…
But fate, that teasing demon, is always so magical and unpredictable.
Seeing the Tigger in Lu Yiyao’s hand, Ran Lin felt like crying.
But he couldn’t cry, because after a moment of surprise, Lu Yiyao turned and looked straight at him. “We’re in the same room.”
The mainland star gave his judgment, and his tone sounded quite… accepting?
Ran Lin thought he must be daydreaming, but since the olive branch had been extended, he had to respond with kindness.
With that in mind, Ran Lin waved his round tag and gently smiled at his roommate for the night. “Please take care of me, Tigger.”
After Lu Yiyao, Gu Jie and Tang Xiaoyu respectively drew Anna and Minnie, naturally finding their roommates.
Xia Xinran was reasonably happy with this arrangement, spreading his arms. “Come on, Sister Anna.”
Ran Lin quietly reminded his friend. “Frostbite can be cured with a true love’s kiss…”
Gu Jie was petrified.
Xia Xinran gave Ran Lin a sharp look. “Ran Lin, you’ve changed…”
Ran Lin smirked, but his smiling eyes made it hard to get mad at him.
Lu Yiyao suddenly had an epiphany about the unsolved mystery from yesterday. “You weren’t cramming Disney stuff yesterday, were you?”
Ran Lin was surprised. “How did you know?”
Saying that he crammed Disney just from the true love’s kiss remark seemed far-fetched, especially since everyone had seen <Frozen>.
Lu Yiyao facepalmed. “Is it that hard to guess…”
Yesterday’s secret strategy Weibo and today’s quick guess about the Disney hotel, anyone could analyze that Ran Lin was doing his homework in that direction.
The two, who completely missed each other’s points, could have continued the discussion, but the production team couldn’t wait any longer. Seeing the groups formed, they immediately arranged for the guests to get on the bus and head straight to the Disney Resort.
The journey was swift, with the director’s team occasionally coordinating via walkie-talkies with the staff in each car, so the two soon forgot about their conversation.
The Disneyland Hotel, located south of Disneyland and separated only by Wishing Star Lake, offers views of the Disney Castle through the windows across the lake.
Ran Lin had learned all this while doing his research. But no matter how much you read or how many photos you see, they’re all someone else’s experiences and flat images. Only when actually sitting on the boat at the lakeshore, looking at the distant dreamy castle, and slowly recalling those splendid fairy tales—Snow White, Peter Pan, Beauty and the Beast, Toy Story, Alice in Wonderland… did Ran Lin truly understand why people linger and return here.
You might not like those soft and sweet fairy tales.
But there’s always something that hits the childhood heart you thought you didn’t have.
Theme parks are made for dreaming.
The more you cooperate with it, the more you immerse yourself, the more beautiful the dream becomes.
“Do you also want to take a picture together?” Lu Yiyao, having received the room card from the staff, asked Ran Lin, who was still looking at the “Goofy” that had appeared in the lobby a while ago.
Ran Lin glanced at the cartoon character now surrounded by a crowd of guests in the lobby and sighed, “I probably can’t get in line.”
The lobby was mostly filled with guests with children, so the cartoon characters had much more appeal than the so-called stars.
Lu Yiyao chuckled. “Then let’s not long for it. We can see anyone we want when we go into the park tomorrow.”
Ran Lin looked at him. “Are you sure the production team will let us relax like that?”
Lu Yiyao, realizing the reality. “…I admit, I shouldn’t have brought up such a sad topic.”
The two exchanged a look, their smiles revealing a hint of weariness.
The “luxurious scenic room” described by the director wasn’t that luxurious, but rather quaint and delicate. The room had intricately patterned carpets, brightly colored cartoon paintings, transparent half-floor-to-ceiling windows, two spacious single beds with Disney Castle and Tinker Bell shining stars on the headboards, and vintage-style lamps hanging above.
“It’s really cute.” Lu Yiyao quickly finished surveying the room and gave an appropriate comment.
Ran Lin casually strolled towards the TV, hinting, “There’s something even cuter…”
Before Lu Yiyao could react, Ran Lin quickly opened the cabinet under the TV!
The entire cabinet door fell down, revealing a small children’s bed, and the interior of the so-called cabinet was a mural of a sleeping Mickey Mouse, which was absolutely adorable!
Ran Lin looked at Lu Yiyao expectantly, his eyes shining like the stars above the bed.
Lu Yiyao was indeed surprised, staring at the magical little bed for a while before genuinely saying, “It’s very cute.”
Ran Lin was defeated by his response. “Apart from cute, do you have any other adjectives…”
Lu Yiyao racked his brain and finally found another word. “Interesting?”
Ran Lin slumped onto the small bed, deflated. He had come to realize that this person, Lu Yiyao, simply lacked a childlike heart. Lu Yiyao understood the disappointment in Ran Lin’s eyes, although it was well-concealed. But to be disliked for this seemed rather unjust.
“This place is indeed quite dreamy,” Lu Yiyao felt the need to defend himself, “but Disney’s most classic themes are princess dreams, like Jasmine, Belle, Merida, and Elsa. It’s normal for me not to be interested.”
The implication was that it was strange for Ran Lin to be so interested.
Ran Lin was a bit confused. “If you’re not interested, how did you remember so many names…” He had crammed for two days and still couldn’t match all those names to their characters.
Lu Yiyao paused, surprised by his own “knowledge reserve”, but quickly he recalled the culprit from his memory. “When I was in middle school, I had a roommate who was crazy about Disney. He watched all Disney animations, including the very early ones, and often rewatched them. Sometimes, out of curiosity, I would watch a bit with him.”
This was unexpected for Ran Lin.
But once Lu Yiyao mentioned it, Ran Lin recalled, “I remember you studied abroad in middle school, right?”
Lu Yiyao hesitated before simply replying with a “yeah”, then quickly stood up and walked to the half-floor-to-ceiling window, as if expectantly asking, “Will there be fireworks at the castle later?”
“I don’t know.” Ran Lin cooperated in changing the topic. “We can wait and see.”
In the end, there were no fireworks at the castle.
But the light show was quite interesting, watching the distant twinkling castle through the window.
But Ran Lin knew that Lu Yiyao wasn’t really looking forward to these.
He just needed something to break the previous conversation and end the topic about his past that he didn’t want to delve into.
Ran Lin regretted being too talkative.
Perhaps because Lu Yiyao’s attitude was exceptionally “friendly” today, he had unconsciously relaxed.
The filming crew left precisely at 22:00.
Ran Lin thanked them, and Lu Yiyao wished them good night.
As the hotel door closed again, both men threw themselves onto their beds, one lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, and the other face down, his face against the sheet.
“Who’s going first?” Lu Yiyao’s question was abrupt, and even he felt like he needed to add something.
But Ran Lin immediately answered, “You go first. I’m slow, so you won’t have to wait.”
It’s a special feeling when thoughts align.
The last time Lu Yiyao felt this way was with Huo Yuntao. Often, after saying just a few words, the other person would understand the whole story. But Huo Yuntao had been his close friend throughout middle school and remained in contact to this day. It was miraculous that he and Ran Lin, who had only known each other for a few days, had such a connection…
“Aren’t we talking about taking a shower?” Ran Lin saw that Lu Yiyao didn’t get up after his response but instead gave him a peculiar look, thinking he might have guessed wrong, and clarified again.
“Oh, yes, that’s what we’re talking about.” Lu Yiyao came back to his senses, got out of bed, and walked towards the bathroom. Just as he was about to enter, he stopped and turned back. “I also take a while to shower, so don’t rush me. It’s dangerous if I slip and hit my head on the bathtub.”
Ran Lin couldn’t help but laugh. “You only had to say, ‘don’t rush me.’ You don’t need to put yourself in such a gory scenario just to be persuasive.”
Lu Yiyao shook his head, giving him a gentle smile. “I don’t like using imperatives.”
As the sound of water filled the bathroom, Ran Lin was still immersed in Lu Yiyao’s smile.
He’s unfairly handsome!
Ran Lin had known Lu Yiyao was handsome, but today he seemed especially so.
Was it because their interaction exceeded his expectations, making him view Lu Yiyao with gratitude?
He had expected awkwardness and discomfort in their alone time, but it turned out surprisingly harmonious. Today, Lu Yiyao was gentler and more approachable than before.
During the day, Ran Lin thought it was his imagination.
But now, he was sure there had been a subtle change in Lu Yiyao.
Or perhaps, this was the real Lu Yiyao?
Although Lu Yiyao had said he wasn’t quick in the shower, he didn’t actually spend much time in the bathroom before coming out in a bathrobe.
Ran Lin, while playing with his phone, naturally looked up when he heard the sound, and then… he was frozen. It was as if he was spellbound, not moving an inch, not even blinking, completely captivated by the man before him.
There couldn’t be a sexier man in the world than Lu Yiyao.
At that moment, Ran Lin truly believed it.
His wet hair was still dripping with droplets, a few rebellious strands playfully curling over his forehead, hiding his handsome brows but not his peach blossom eyes. His lips were slightly thick, but just the right amount—the kind you’d want to bite into…
Ran Lin, you beast!
The gay man suddenly realized what he was thinking and internally sounded the alarm.
That was dangerous—he was actually having inappropriate thoughts about Lu Yiyao. He must be crazy…
Surely their earlier mental alignment was a fluke, Lu Yiyao thought, because right now he couldn’t figure out what Ran Lin was thinking. Ran Lin first stared at him as if he was a predator, and now he was avoiding eye contact, looking like he wanted to punch someone.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
The abrupt statement, though spoken gently, seemed out of place. To Lu Yiyao, it seemed as if Ran Lin had sprung out of bed and brushed past him.
“Be careful, the floor is wet…” Lu Yiyao didn’t finish his warning before the bathroom door slammed shut.
What happened?
Lu Yiyao, while drying his hair, frowned, his gaze accidentally landed on Ran Lin’s phone left on the bed. He had an epiphany.
He must have seen those comments on Weibo again.
Lu Yiyao sat down, his previously lightened mood turning heavy.
Throughout the day’s filming, he had wondered whether Ran Lin was truly okay or just putting on a brave face and why he was so preoccupied with him. In the end, he could only conclude it was curiosity.
Just like when he asked his assistant about being criticized on Weibo, it stemmed from the same curiosity. Lu Yiyao himself didn’t pay much attention to or have strong feelings towards Weibo comments, so he wanted to know the general reaction to negative comments on Weibo and then use this to gauge Ran Lin’s response.
And what would he do after figuring it out?
Lu Yiyao thought it was probably just to confirm whether his imagined image of Ran Lin crying pitifully was accurate or not.
Hot water freely poured from the showerhead, showering down on him, causing a shiver. Ran Lin stood motionless, letting the water flow over him, and gradually, with the rising steam, he began to relax.
Lu Yiyao was poisonous.
If before, the charm was fragmented in his appearances on TV, his seriousness on the deserted island, and his tolerance when saying enough was enough, now, after the shower, these aspects had merged into a whole. It was like Tony Stark donning his armor and finally becoming Iron Man.
Ran Lin was a die-hard fan of Iron Man.
“In the end,” Ran Lin poked his head with his finger, muttering under his breath, “you’re just superficial…”
But another voice in his head asked, “Would you react the same way if it was Xia Xinran coming out of the shower?”
Ran Lin tried hard to imagine it and found that in his mind, Xia Xinran opening his bathrobe would always lead to a blizzard, with him dancing and singing “Let it Go” as he did.
The shower was warm.
Ran Lin felt frozen by his own imagination.
Hoping that Lu Yiyao would be asleep by the time he finished his shower, Ran Lin dawdled in the bathroom for over an hour until he felt overwhelmingly sleepy. He then quickly grabbed the shower gel and finished up.
After washing, he spent a long time in the bathroom, drying his hair until every strand was light and airy. Then, wrapped in his bathrobe, he tiptoed out of the bathroom.
The lights in the room were off, leaving only the warm yellow light of the corridor lamp by the bathroom door. Ran Lin stood under the lamp, unconsciously glancing at Lu Yiyao’s bed…
Click.
The vintage lamp hanging above Lu Yiyao’s bed lit up perfectly timed, as if illuminated by Ran Lin’s gaze.
Under the vintage lamp sat Lu Yiyao at the head of the bed, looking a bit tired but still very awake. Under the corridor light stood Ran Lin, his face slightly flushed from the long exposure to heat, now wavering with uncertainty.
“What are you standing there for?” Lu Yiyao asked, yawning involuntarily.
Ran Lin, watching him, yawned too, and finally, amidst the yawn, he managed to ask somewhat naturally, “Why haven’t you slept yet?” He then quickly walked to the bed and sat down…
Huh?
His butt suddenly felt a jab.
Ran Lin reached in to retrieve the “culprit” from between his butt and the mattress, only to find it was his phone. He felt a moment of relief; sitting directly on the screen wouldn’t only be costly but also embarrassing.
Lu Yiyao, holding back laughter, said, “I was just about to warn you, but you were too quick.”
Ran Lin, flustered, shook his phone. “It’s okay. My phone is very sturdy. It even survived falling into a bowl of instant noodles.”
Imagining the scene, Lu Yiyao almost smelled the beef broth. “What about the noodles?”
Ran Lin chuckled. “I had just finished eating. Only the soup was left when it fell in.”
“That timing…” Lu Yiyao admired, but before he could finish his thought, he pondered something deeper and advised, “Actually, you don’t always need to be glued to your phone. You can dine with the TV on or listen to music or something.”
Ran Lin didn’t think much of it, casually replying, “The phone is more convenient.”
Lu Yiyao didn’t know how to continue; any response seemed forced, so he changed the topic. “How did you know we were coming to Disneyland?”
Ran Lin realized that Lu Yiyao seemed prepared for a long conversation. Otherwise, it would have been more straightforward to say goodnight earlier.
But what did Lu Yiyao have to talk about with him so late at night? It didn’t make sense that Lu Yiyao would suddenly consider him a true friend after they had just started getting along better…
“Hm?” Lu Yiyao noticed Ran Lin’s drifting attention and reminded him.
“Oh, I actually didn’t know,” Ran Lin quickly answered, coming back to his senses. “I was just idle and thought I’d do some homework, just in case. Didn’t expect to actually guess it right.”
Lu Yiyao nodded, seemingly finding this explanation reasonable and believable.
Ran Lin internally sighed with relief, hoping Lu Yiyao would quickly feel sleepy and go to bed.
In late winter Shanghai, the indoor chill was bone-piercing. Despite the air heater, Ran Lin sneezed unintentionally. He quickly grabbed a pillow to lean against the headboard, mimicking Lu Yiyao, and pulled the blanket over him, feeling a bit warmer. Just as he settled under the blanket, he heard Lu Yiyao say, “That’s nice.”
Ran Lin looked at him blankly, unsure if he was complimenting the blanket or his sneeze. But Lu Yiyao was saying, “I don’t even have a moment to breathe, let alone do homework.”
Ran Lin was taken aback, realizing that conversations with Lu Yiyao required full attention, or you’d lose track of the topic.
But despite his internal complaint, he sincerely said, “Being busy is a good thing. Many people wish they could be busy. Like me, I only have one show a week. My schedule is so empty, I can’t bear to look at it.”
“When your schedule gets so packed you can’t write everything down, you’ll know how precious holidays are.” Lu Yiyao shared his own feelings. “Now, I can only sleep in waiting rooms. As soon as I get off the plane, it’s straight to work. Sometimes, if the fan crowd at the airport gets too uncontrollable, the airport staff will ask me to take a different exit or find a way to avoid them. It’s like being a thief.”
“No wonder you used a body double that time at the airport.” Ran Lin said this without thinking, naturally continuing the conversation, but as soon as he finished, he wanted to kick himself for bringing it up.
“Yet, you still caught me in the end,” Lu Yiyao said with a light, teasing tone.
Ran Lin was taken aback, not quite grasping his meaning. “Huh?”
Lu Yiyao hadn’t meant to dig up the past; since the matter was over, he didn’t mind and even joked about it. But seeing Ran Lin’s feigned ignorance, he felt a bit displeased. “I mean, even though I used a body double, you still cornered me, didn’t you?”
Ran Lin blinked weakly and then said feebly, “That was a misunderstanding…”
Lu Yiyao involuntarily furrowed his brows, his gaze fixed on Ran Lin, trying to spot any lies on his face. But soon, he realized there were none. Despite Ran Lin’s meek demeanor, his eyes didn’t waver, so Lu Yiyao’s displeasure slowly turned into uncertainty. “…Really a misunderstanding?”
Ran Lin felt wronged enough to cry.
He sat upright, facing Lu Yiyao’s bed, with his legs crossed, and earnestly explained, “It really was a misunderstanding at first. I just wanted to pick up a fan’s light stick that had fallen on the ground and throw it in the trash.”
Lu Yiyao: “…”
Ran Lin: “Err, after picking it up, of course, I didn’t have the heart to throw it away. The light stick was made with so much care…”
“I was at a loss.” Lu Yiyao also sat up, mimicking Ran Lin’s posture, facing his “roommate” for a seated conversation, somewhat helplessly and amusedly. “I was stewing over it for days, thinking I’d been caught in a series of traps.”
“No, it’s normal for you to be upset.” The truth now clear, Ran Lin relaxed and candidly said, “The subsequent hype and fermentation were all done by my side. Otherwise, a misunderstanding wouldn’t have caused such a stir.”
“I know that.” Lu Yiyao was surprisingly calm. “I’ve been used for clout before. I understand how these things are hyped and how trends are led. I was angry at myself for having been through this so many times and still not being cautious enough.”
“Trust me,” Ran Lin said earnestly, almost to the point of being heartfelt. “I was also stunned when you pulled me over.”
Lu Yiyao smiled. “I believe you now. Thinking back, so many fans were misled by the body double, you managed to see through it, pretended to pick up a light stick to be caught on camera, and when I came out, you didn’t initiate anything, didn’t even call out, waiting for me to recognize you and take a photo with you… It’s basically infeasible, I thought too much.”
Ran Lin was amazed by the explanation. “Not just too much. It was perfectly interlocked, flawless.”
Lu Yiyao, embarrassed, showed a rare, self-deprecating smile, appearing straightforward and naive.
After a moment, he became serious, looking earnestly at Ran Lin, and apologized sincerely, “I misunderstood you about the light stick. I apologize.”
Ran Lin was taken aback, shaking his head quickly. “Don’t apologize to me. It makes me feel like I should jump into Wishing Star Lake.”
Lu Yiyao laughed out loud, finding Ran Lin particularly endearing, but insisted, “It’s only fair.”
Ran Lin was genuinely impressed.
After this exchange, he not only felt pressure-free around Lu Yiyao but even wanted to enlighten his companion. “You can’t be like this. You said it yourself, I’m not the first to use you. Haven’t you ever wondered why everyone chooses you?”
“I’m easy to use, I guess,” Lu Yiyao answered without hesitation.
Ran Lin was surprised. “You knew?”
“Every time a work is released, there’s a rumor with the female lead, and promotional articles from the production fly everywhere. It’s not hard to guess.” Lu Yiyao sighed with a smile. “But you’re the first male artist to tie me into a CP for hype.”
Ran Lin bowed his head in shame.
Lu Yiyao, smiling, said nonchalantly, “That’s how it is in the industry. Everyone hypes each other up, and after a while, you get used to it. So, I was only upset about being tricked; if I hadn’t been, just being used for hype would have been nothing new.”
Ran Lin looked up at him, feeling a bit sorry. “That sounds so pitiful…”
Lu Yiyao shrugged, casually saying, “It doesn’t matter. Maybe being popular is a sin in itself.”
Ran Lin: “…”
Lu Yiyao: “Hm?”
Ran Lin: “If Xia Xinran were here, he would be impressed by your deep insight… and then join me in beating you up.”
Lu Yiyao was momentarily stunned, then realized in hindsight that his words indeed sounded like he was asking for a beating. But he genuinely wasn’t showing off; he was just stating facts. Even if he weren’t popular today, seeing the current state of affairs, he would have come to the same conclusion.
Yao Hong once said that, with his unambitious nature, it was incredible that he rose to fame. Lu Yiyao admitted luck played a part, along with some other factors, but what frustrated him most wasn’t the murky dealings in the industry, but the fact that he had made some achievements amidst it all, yet he didn’t feel the sense of accomplishment he had expected.
What did he really want? To stand at the pinnacle of the entertainment industry’s pyramid and become a superstar? He had been searching for twenty-four years and couldn’t be sure because he hadn’t reached that point yet.
He once asked Huo Yuntao seriously what his dream was. His friend looked at him for a long time before saying, “Are you sick?”
Lu Yiyao’s mind wandered again, a habit Ran Lin was now used to. After setting the alarm on his phone and putting it on silent charge, he softly reminded his “roommate”, “Let’s sleep early. Tomorrow is another day of battle.”
Lu Yiyao snapped back to reality, nodding. “Yeah, tomorrow should be fun.”
Ran Lin had already laid down but turned to Lu Yiyao and said, “You noticed too, right? The production team is getting better at this. The freeze card this afternoon, I almost laughed out loud when I touched it. I was thinking, how frustrated the person who gets frozen by me will be. I didn’t expect you all to come in a group.”
Lu Yiyao remembered the scene and couldn’t help but smile, but he soon thought of something else and said meaningfully, “This episode should look good when it’s edited. Disneyland itself is a very effective setting.”
Ran Lin joked, “Your mansion last episode wasn’t bad either.”
Lu Yiyao, uncharacteristically not arguing, continued, “So the reputation should improve.”
Ran Lin had been trying not to think about the audience’s reaction, so he simply replied, “Mm.”
Lu Yiyao finally brought up the topic he was concerned about. “About that Weibo…”
“I uninstalled it,” Ran Lin quickly responded, his tone sounding a bit bitter, then quickly switched to a joking tone. “If our show’s reputation turns around, you’ll have to scroll through the comments for me.”
Lu Yiyao took a moment to comprehend, then asked uncertainly, “Uninstalled?”
“Yeah.” Ran Lin scratched his head embarrassedly, dropping the act and speaking frankly. “I uninstalled it the night after the premiere. Of course, since I stirred it up myself, I can’t blame others for mocking it, but it was still a lot of pressure to see.”
“Oh…” Lu Yiyao didn’t know what to say, and after a while, he finally said, “That’s good…”
With the hardest part said, Ran Lin decided to share his realization with Lu Yiyao. “I discovered something. If you keep scrolling through Weibo, it feels like it contains the whole world. But once you stop, it’s just a social media platform. Life and the world don’t change.”
Lu Yiyao wanted to say that he had always felt that way, so even if he occasionally scrolled through comments, he didn’t take those emotionally charged opinions to heart. But he realized he and Ran Lin were different. They reached the same conclusion, but their journeys and feelings about it were entirely different.
Ran Lin tried to forget.
He simply didn’t care.
So, Ran Lin uninstalled Weibo and refrained from discussing those specific harsh words. And Lu Yiyao, who recently scrolled through Weibo every day, still hardly felt any emotional disturbance.
The only disturbance he felt was when he saw particularly harsh comments, empathizing with Ran Lin’s feelings, making him uncomfortable. Now, he had his answer—Ran Lin uninstalled Weibo, not completely immune but objectively cutting off the source of negativity. But he didn’t feel the satisfaction of having his curiosity fulfilled.
“Goodnight.” Ran Lin decided not to wait any longer. He turned off the light after speaking.
This time, the response from the next bed came quickly—a faint “Goodnight”—and the light went out.
With the room completely dark, Ran Lin closed his eyes, trying to shake off the jumbled thoughts “his roommate” had stirred up again. Gradually, he finally fell into a peaceful sleep.
Hearing the even breathing from the next bed slow down, Lu Yiyao finally understood.
His unusual behavior these past days wasn’t really about being curious about Ran Lin’s reaction to the comments on Weibo. What he really wanted to see was Ran Lin being like him, not caring about those comments.
But why did he insist that Ran Lin follow his example? The only explanation Lu Yiyao could think of was vanity…
Before even opening his eyes, he reached out beside him. Teest’s bed was a bit cold, indicating he had been up for a while. Nol rolled over, and his arm touched something fluffy—
He quickly opened his eyes, only to see the shadow wolf sleeping upside down next to the bed with its tongue hanging out.
It seemed everything was alright last night.
“Good morning, Nol.”
Teest emerged from the bathroom with a towel draped around his neck. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over, and gave Nol a good morning kiss on the forehead.
Fresh from his shower, Teest’s skin was still damp, and his shirt collar was wide open. From this angle, Nol could see his chest. Nol uncomfortably shifted his gaze and went through the motions of his morning routine.
Stay calm, stay calm. Everything is normal this morning too!
“The servants at this inn are too stingy with breakfast.”
For some reason, Teest’s morning kiss lingered longer than usual. His hands remained on Nol’s shoulders, not moving away for a while.
“They only provided bean sauce, stale boiled eggs, and black bread, claiming the good stuff is reserved for noble lords—I tried them, and they’re more suited for feeding wolves.”
Teest gazed at Nol, enthusiastically sharing these trivial matters. Lately, his urge to share seemed to have increased.
“I’ve prepared ham sandwiches, jam biscuits, and hot chocolate instead. Do you like them? Your biscuits have monster hair in them.”
‘…It would have been quite warm without the last part,’ Nol thought, choking up a bit.
“Thank you.” Nol stood up, casually ruffling Teest’s hair. Teest narrowed his eyes, seemingly enjoying it.
It was no wonder Teest was so eager. Since Nol turned his [Bloodline Suppression] into his own [Breath of a False God], his external skill slot only had [To My Compatriot] and [Sniff], with an extra slot still empty.
Teest had ground the bone shards of an undead giant into powder to make pancakes for Nol. It added considerable attributes, but the only skill it granted was [Feign Death].
It seemed unnecessary. Nol sighed, giving it up.
And just yesterday, Nol had swallowed the bone ash of the Undead Serpent King with his tea, only to unfortunately draw the [Laying Eggs] skill. It stayed in the prompt box for only a second before Nol swiftly discarded it.
Clearly, gaining strength didn’t improve his luck.
“By the way, whose hair is it?” Nol asked casually while changing clothes.
“The hair of the undead knight,” Teest cheerfully said. “I plucked one just now. He didn’t mind. He’s a monster from a high-level quest, so he must have something good.”
Nol: “……”
I knew it!
No wonder then. The undead knight had been very strong in life. But thinking about how he personally turned him into an undead, Nol always felt a peculiar sense of guilt.
Meanwhile, Teest brought over the cold, subpar breakfast. Shadow Wolf Ben rolled over and skillfully returned to the shadows, its large mouth stretching out from under Teest’s feet, wide open.
Teest tilted the plate, dumping the vomit-like food into the wolf’s mouth.
“By the way, I went out and talked with that knight last night.”
Nol paused while putting on his coat. “Talked?”
Intelligence among undead creatures was generally low, with only higher-level beings like liches or undead giants showing semblance of intelligence. Undead knights typically just mutter about their past obsessions, so having a conversation with one was rare.
“Yes, although he’s sometimes incoherent, there’s still a hint—just a hint of rationality.” Teest drawled, pouring another plate of beans. “It’s interesting. He’s confused whether there was one moon or four in the past.”
Nol stopped moving entirely.
That again.
He remembered the unsettling four moons when he first arrived. With so much happening lately, he had pushed this question to the back of his mind.
“What did he say?” Nol asked more seriously.
Teest hummed, “He said his War King brother once took him to see the full moon, and they stood under the same moon. Then his mind got muddled, struggling with whether it was one or four moons.”
Nol immediately grabbed Kando, still dozing on the bedside table, and cast five layers of soundproof magic. Teest was startled, almost dropping the plate into the wolf’s mouth.
“Lynn, how’s the analysis of the underground ruins?” Nol activated the communication doll, getting straight to the point.
In the communication screen, Lynn was eating pan-fried dumplings in her office. Nol’s call caught her off guard, causing her to choke on her dumpling, leading to fits of coughs for a while.
“Were you this abrupt when you were working?”
After finally stopping her cough, the witch sighed. “The data analysis is almost done. I’m using magic to build a database. Integrating them… Except for some vague records about gods, everything else is ready. Do you need something urgent?”
“Check the number of moons,” Nol said. “Sorry, I want to confirm as soon as possible.”
Lynn nodded. She tapped the table, and the dolls in the room busily activated various props and magic circles. Crystals twinkled and gears creaked, making her room resemble the interior of a mechanical clock, separate yet unified.
In less than ten seconds, numerous pale red magic screens lit up.
Lynn picked up a wand resembling a screwdriver, entering several runes into the air. The dolls clicked and clacked with the mechanisms, eventually selecting a representative to bring a screen to Lynn.
“Interesting…” Lynn gasped as she read the results on the screen.
“There are missing records in the Teddy Bear World. The Near Future World has two moons, and the Ancient World has three,” Lynn said. “I guess everyone took it for granted, so there’s less documentation.”
As she wrote more magic runes, her brows furrowed. “There’s another point I’m concerned about. The ‘protagonists’ of the Near Future World and some important figures have questioned the number of moons. In the Ancient World, someone even wrote a poem expressing doubt—they all seem to think there should be only one moon.”
“No follow-up?” Teest asked curiously.
“No follow-up.” Lynn shook her head. “What concerns me more is something else. The Near Future World seems very developed, yet there are no records related to astronomy.”
In Lynn’s tone, there was a mix of confusion and surprise—she thought it was strange but, at the same time, didn’t see it as a high priority.
Nol could understand her thinking.
People needed to live grounded in reality, prioritizing immediate issues. After all, whether there was one moon or ten in the sky didn’t affect their lives, especially since they had already transmigrated.
If he weren’t a producer, this issue might have been lightly set aside. But…
“So far, I’ve encountered situations involving ‘only one moon’ twice.” Nol glanced at Teest and summarized succinctly, “Once was in the Novice Village near the Dragon’s Lair, where there was only one moon in the sky; the other time was just now, with an NPC—no—a key character in a quest experiencing an illusion of ‘one moon’.”
To an outsider, these two incidents might seem unrelated. But for Nol, their commonality was too obvious—
“The Dragon’s Lair has Subelbot. In the setting, it’s a very ancient silver dragon.” Nol explained, “Its lair is right under the moon. In its appearance design, there’s a clear scene of ‘the silver dragon spreading its wings under the moon’.”
“The War King and the Knight Prince in the Age of Strife were also characters we clearly set up ‘scene images’ for. At the end, the knight’s bones rest in the Endless Sea, his spirit concentrated in three treasures—when the quest is completed, Players see snippets of his life.”
“Let me guess. There’s a scene of ‘the brother showing the younger brother a full moon’.”
“Yes.” Nol nodded. “For them, that was a very important day.”
The unruly brother, gazing at the only moon, had a calculating conversation.
The elder brother said, “We will be the sun and moon of this kingdom. My glory will also shine on you. I will lead the brave towards the light, and you will guide the lost.”
At that time, they were young, and the younger brother didn’t understand his brother’s determination for the throne, simply promising happily—
Sounds wonderful. I will be loyal to you, dear brother.
That was just a snippet, appearing amidst a typical, orderly family tragedy, adding a touch of lament.
But it did exist, specifically designed by the production team.
“Wait, let me get this straight.” Lynn pressed her temples. “Even though there are clearly four moons in the sky, the characters you designed still remember the setting of ‘only one moon’.”
“Yes, it’s similar to the situation you’re concerned about,” Nol said.
“This discovery is really great.” Teest casually put his hand on Nol’s shoulder, excitedly expressing. Nol turned his head in confusion—Teest wasn’t the type to give superficial compliments.
Teest leaned in close to Nol’s ear, his voice just loud enough for Lynn to hear. “It means this is 100% ‘real’. If everything was false, why would the mastermind behind it leave such an obvious loophole?”
“Having traveled through four worlds and still maintaining such a loophole suggests their ability is limited—if the opponent isn’t omnipotent, they can be dealt with.”
Seeing the two heads getting closer, Lynn looked hesitant.
Finally, she coughed vigorously. “I agree with Teest’s view. It’s a good discovery. This matter is likely related to the ‘truth of the world’, and I’ll take it as a reference.”
Nol let Teest stay close to him and looked at Lynn. “I’ll contact you if there’s a new discovery.”
“Mm, I’m looking forward to it.” Lynn sped up her speech as if she was in a hurry. “Remember to leave more surveillance dolls along the way.”
With that, she immediately ended the communication.
“I think I need to have a good talk with that knight,” Nol sighed.
“Now?”
“No, I need to find a way to increase his intelligence—to perfect a new spell first. Let’s have breakfast.”
Unfortunately, the breakfast was ultimately left uneaten. Nol had just started on his sandwich when he heard a commotion downstairs.
“We’ve paid. Why should we leave the room!” Solo shouted from the first floor of the inn.
As a “butler”, Nol frowned and grabbed Teest as they left the room—Teest quickly put on his glasses, not forgetting to grab the last piece of the sandwich.
In the lobby, the fat innkeeper’s beard kept trembling as he tried to stand upright. “There’s only one luxury suite, and I’m a businessman. I can’t let the representative of the Alva Merchant Group stay in a servant’s room.”
“So I deserve to stay in a servant’s room? Don’t you understand first come, first served?” Solo played the role of the spoiled young master to the hilt that Nol wondered if he was really a bit angry.
The butler Painter and maid Anakin were superficially soothing everyone, each with their own disdain. Abandon and Fischer weren’t there, probably busy with other things.
“The Alva Merchant Group again.” Teest struggled to swallow half a sandwich and handed the other half to Nol. “I didn’t think it could get any busier here.”
The representative of the Alva Merchant Group versus an unknown little noble—it was pretty clear which side the owner would choose.
Just as the situation was about to spiral out of control, the so-called “representative of the Alva Merchant Group” walked in.
She was a very beautiful young lady. Her ears dangled with huge pearl earrings, a pearl hairnet held her golden hair, and her eyes were like olivine stones, clear and moist. She was petite and shapely, wearing a dress that was perfectly tailored to her.
Solo immediately shut up. He stared blankly at the beautiful girl, forgetting all about “playing the dissolute”, and was moved aside by Painter like a statue.
The girl scanned the room, seemingly guessing the situation. She stepped forward with a smile, approaching Solo.
“Sir,” the girl cooed, her eyes pleading. “If you are willing to give up the room, we will compensate you five times the amount. What do you say…”
Solo’s face turned red, as if he had lost the ability to speak. “Uh, uh…”
Nol: “……”
Teest: “……”
Both of them stopped chewing simultaneously, retreating two steps.
It wasn’t so much that they were stunned by the beauty, but rather, they had seen this “girl” before—
Wasn’t this Mr. Barto from the novice village? He seemed to have recovered quite a bit and was up to his old tricks again.
“You go down first,” Anakin told the innkeeper. “Look, we’ll handle it ourselves.”
The innkeeper left with a look of “I knew it”, satisfied with himself. For a moment, the hall was left with only the girl and the five members of the “noble tour group”.
“And Mr. Pai, could you check on Abandon and the others? You two…” Anakin looked at Nol, desperately signaling with her eyes, “Just find somewhere nearby to stay.”
Mr. Painter, of the Light Faction, tactfully retreated. As representatives of the Evil Forces, Nol and Teest exchanged glances, cast an invisibility spell around the corner, and quickly returned to the scene.
“Stop acting,” Anakin said with a pinch of her brow. “You’re a man, right? A Player?”
Solo and Barto both stiffened, one turning from red to green, the other from white to red.
“Barto, Homeward Saint Guild. From the central city of Old Gemino. Responsible for caravan liaison.”
Barto awkwardly stepped back, trying to sound more composed. “Sister, we didn’t really meet in the novice village, did we? How did you figure it out?”
Anakin clicked her tongue loudly. “Being a representative of the Alva Merchant Group, a normal person would handle things professionally without needing to ‘flatter’ like that.”
“Besides, with so many of our people inside the inn, you just walked in, showing no caution. Used to it, huh? This level of deception works only on male college students—alright, now that we’re clear, let’s get down to business.”
Solo slowly backed away, looking up at the ceiling as if he wanted to bury himself in a hole.
Barto glanced at Anakin, still a bit upset, but said nothing. He casually pulled up a chair and sat down. “I’m here to find you.”
“Hmm.”
“Amazon asked me to tell you to drop everything and go to Brick Shadow to support the elite squad—Hot Ash and the others are in trouble.”
“What?!” Anakin and Solo almost spoke at the same time.
Barto revealed a slightly satisfied expression at regaining some control. “Eugene and Hot Ash went to Brick Shadow for a quest—something about scouting the Demon King’s situation. Recently, they sent a distress signal to Amazon.”
“Dude, would you die if you said everything at once?” Solo bared his teeth at him angrily.
Barto glanced at him, dropped a soundproofing charm on the floor, and took out a recording crystal, activating its contents on the spot.
It was a frantic narrative.
They could recognize it as a human voice, but that was all they could discern.
Everyone present had the Player’s innate “Language Mastery”, but none could understand what the distress call was saying—it was like listening to a mentally ill patient with a language disorder.
“There’s no doubt this message came from Hot Ash, and Amazon considers the situation critical.” Barto explained, “Communication near Desolation Island is getting worse. They couldn’t contact you and had to divine your location to send me. That’s the gist of it.”
“Tell them I’m on my way to the Desolation Island area and will handle it as soon as possible,” Anakin said gravely.
“That’s fine. I’m leaving—I’ve got real work to do.” Barto spoke with an annoyingly casual tone. “Continue having fun with your handsome guys. I noticed just now. You’ve got a nice variety.”
Solo’s forehead vein throbbed, and he reflexively grabbed a dart, but Anakin held him back.
“Don’t mind him.” Anakin shook her head lightly.
[I thought Bly would continue following him,] Nol thought.
[You see, emotions are quite fragile,] Teest replied.
Nol sighed inwardly.
“It looks like we need to speed up our journey,” Nol said, dispelling the invisibility as Barto left the hall. “I’m going to use a riskier method of travel.”
“Like what?” Anakin still looked serious.
“I’ll figure out a way to take everyone with me.” Nol turned his face uncomfortably. “I have a method to reach the Brick Mountains in one day.”
……
“Holy shit—this is like magic—!” That night, Solo stuck his head out of the carriage, shouting down at the clouds.
The ordinary carriage was flying through the night sky. The harnesses for the horses hung empty, looking unsupported. Six people were crammed inside the carriage, with only Nol and Teest missing.
Above the carriage, a huge Dracolich spread his wings, his claws firmly gripping the toy-like carriage. Under the four moons, using the double protection of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Invisibility, Nol flew rapidly towards the Brick Mountains.
Only Teest sat next to Nol’s dragon horn, happily swinging his legs—the Death Knight had erected a protective barrier, shielding them from the cold wind and low temperatures.
[You should have used this method earlier.] Teest caressed the flickering blue dragon horn beside him. It was warmer than he had imagined.
[Taking ten thousand steps back, it would have been easier without Painter, but now there’s no choice.] Nol expressed with difficulty. [Talk to me more. My claws are a bit numb.]
[Of course, no problem.] Teest relaxed, leaning against the dragon horn. [I have ten thousand thoughts to share…]
The thick clouds, like the sea, floated restlessly, quickly receding beside them. Above the carriage, the silver undead knight looked up at the four moons.
He reached out towards one of the moons, stiffly and carefully closing his fingers, as if trying to grasp something.
In the end, he only managed to catch a wisp of cold wind.
[Owl: Someone has used [(Defense) Cicada Sheds Its Shell] on you, oh~~]
As the notification sounded in their ears, Xu Wang, Kuang Jinxin, and Qian Ai’s first reaction was: Damn, it’s not over yet?!
The next second, they landed on the ground with a “thud”, like a few potatoes falling out of a broken plastic bag, rolling away in all directions.
Though the fall hurt, the extreme cold and lack of oxygen from high altitude were instantly relieved. They instinctively took deep breaths, and their stiffened minds slowly recovered, becoming active again.
“It’s tough that you even thought to use your [Stationery Box],” Xu Wang recovered his strength and quickly got up to move his arms and legs. Of course, every joint hurt terribly, but there were no real broken bones or injuries. It seemed their earlier guess was right; the “Owl” intended to keep the damage within a certain limit.
Wu Sheng was already up before him, looking around to assess the situation. “It’s my fault. I had doubts when I met Qian Ai and should have thought it through, not getting carried away by the [Cheat Sheet] and charging forward blindly.”
“Wu Sheng admitting a mistake” was definitely a rare creature. Xu Wang’s heart softened unexpectedly, and gentle words came out. “There’s nothing right or wrong. To be honest, we are even less thoughtful than you. When I met Lao Qian, I didn’t even have any doubts. Just surprised and happy.”
Wu Sheng still shook his head. “You guys not thinking of it is normal. I really shouldn’t have made this mistake.”
“……” Watching the sincerity and seriousness on his face, Xu Wang wanted to give him a roundhouse kick.
If he softened up to this guy again, he would be no better than a pig!!!
In the meantime, Kuang Jinxin and Qian Ai also got up one after another. The former looked the most pitiful—his nose red from the cold, his originally fair face all dusty, making one strongly suspect that he landed face-first when they got free. The latter was much better—swinging his arms and moving his neck, back to being a burly man.
“Did we… get tricked? And then saved by Class Monitor again?” When Qian Ai heard Xu Wang’s “It’s tough that you even thought to use your [Stationery Box]” while lying on the ground, he connected it with the prior events; the fact couldn’t be clearer.
“Lao Qian.” Xu Wang asked, “You were at the airport for three days. Didn’t you meet anyone alone?”
“Not a soul.” Qian Ai raised both hands, and every cell in his body wished to prove his innocence. “If there was anyone as hurried as us, I wouldn’t have let them go. Even if we couldn’t team up, a chat would’ve been relieving.”
Xu Wang understood. “It’s not that you didn’t meet anyone. It’s that they didn’t want you to meet anyone.” He sighed. “We’re the fools here. The other teams are much shrewder.”
Kuang Jinxin only understood the situation then and looked shocked. “There are other teams on the plane?!”
Xu Wang massaged his forehead. Kuang Jinxin’s naivety could get him sold if he ever walks past two miles and still helps the seller count the money.
“But that’s not right,” Kuang Jinxin muttered in confusion. “We were all sucked in, wanting to turn in our submission. Shouldn’t we help each other to get through together?”
Xu Wang asked him, “What if there can only be one team that can pass in the end?”
Kuang Jinxin didn’t even need to think. “Then it’s fair competition. Every man for himself.”
Xu Wang: “But what if you have the chance to get ahead?”
Kuang Jinxin frowned disapprovingly. “That’s not getting ahead. That’s a despicable ambush, like false starting in a track and field. You’d get disqualified!”
Xu Wang: “……”
Alright, he took back what he said. Not two miles; this kid could be sold within two steps and still help count the money.
“This is the airplane’s cargo hold.” Wu Sheng, after observing, gave a certain conclusion.
Hearing this, the three of them seriously looked around. It was a long and narrow spacious area, precisely assembled by metal-like plates, with a flat ground covered in longitudinal tracks. It indeed resembled an airplane’s cargo hold, but there was very little cargo. There were only two wooden racks at the end of the hold, and the rest was vast empty space.
“Is this the same plane as before?” Qian Ai asked uncertainly.
“It should be,” Wu Sheng said. “Otherwise, we’d just be waiting dry until five to snap back to reality, and the [Cicada Shed Its Shell] bringing us here would be meaningless.”
Qian Ai nervously swallowed. “So we need to go back to the cabin… to defuse a bomb?”
“Lao Qian, your thinking is problematic.” Xu Wang came over, criticizing his teammate with his hands on his hips. “What time is it now, and you’re still thinking about defusing bombs? We just got brutalized. Don’t you want to fight back?”
“Of course, it’s good to fight back, but clearly the opponent is more experienced, so shouldn’t we plan a few more schemes…” In the situation of unclear friend and foe, Qian Ai was always the cautious one. “Don’t just think about revenge. Also plan for escape and survival…”
His voice grew lower, as even Kuang Jinxin came over. Now it was three against one.
Kuang Jinxin: “I don’t agree with an ambush, but they’ve already hit us. Of course we should respond with our spirit!”
Xu Wang: “If you don’t speak out after being tricked once, you’ll be tricked a second time. Better to lose than to flee.”
Wu Sheng: “What do you mean lose? Why would we lose? There’s no such word in my dictionary.”
Qian Ai: “……”
No one told him during the 1/23 submission that it would turn into a massive multiplayer online battle! He was just a peace-loving idiom-guessing enthusiast. TAT
“By the way,” Xu Wang suddenly said, “I saw them.”
The sentence pulled back Qian Ai’s attention, as well as Wu Sheng and Kuang Jinxin’s.
“Men, women, old, young, tall, short, fat, thin?” Wu Sheng directly asked the core question. After all, knowing the enemy is the key to revenge.
Xu Wang tried to recall and describe the “enemy appearance” as precisely and concisely as possible. “Male, male, male, male… Tall, handsome, thin, fair!”
Kuang Jinxin was stunned.
Qian Ai felt something was odd.
Wu Sheng frowned.
Xu Wang realized what he had said, regretting that such a unique description might reveal some personal preferences. As he was getting nervous, he saw Wu Sheng stroking his chin and muttering in confusion, “Tall, handsome, thin, fair… Isn’t that just like us?” He looked up seriously. “Is there a standard for team formation in the ‘Owl’ based on appearance?”
Wait a minute.
Xu Wang was a bit lost, subconsciously looking at his teammates.
Qian Ai… indeed tall.
Wu Sheng… quite handsome.
Kuang Jinxin… definitely fair.
As for himself… he knew there weren’t any good words left for him!!!
Having decided on the big direction of “revenge”, the next two things to do were: one, to return to the cabin; and two, to hide themselves, search for the enemy, and wait for the right moment to strike. But all these had to be based on their own “combat power”.
All four arms stretched out. The contents of the [Stationery Box] with all their “combat power” were clearly visible.
Xu Wang: [(Defense) Circular Ground Prison], [(Offense) Cao Chong Weighing the Elephant].
Wu Sheng: [(Offense) Wind That Sweeps Away the Clouds].
Kuang Jinxin: [(Defense) A Clever Rabbit Has Three Burrows], [(Offense) Tears Like Rain].
Qian Ai: [(Defense) A Single Leaf Blocks the Eyes1], [(Offense) Words Like Pearls and Jade2>.
1(一叶障目) Idiom referring to the whole picture of things cannot be seen (basically, one’s view is so narrow that it prevents them from seeing the bigger picture). 2(字字珠玑) Idiom referring to words and sentences in a speech or writing that’s extremely beautiful. It can also extend to mean words that are concise, powerful, or profound.
Compared to offenses, defenses were obviously easier to understand through text, but they still felt insufficient.
“Shall we scavenge some more?” Xu Wang had been eyeing the two wooden racks at the end of the cargo hold for a while, feeling like they were “treasure chests” that might open up surprises.
“This is someone else’s property. We shouldn’t touch it…” Although it wasn’t the real world, Kuang Jinxin still insisted on his moral standards of “Five Disciplines, Four Graces, Three Loves*”.
*An ideological education and publicity campaign promoted by China. The Five Disciplines refer to decorum, manners, hygiene, discipline and morals. The Four Graces refer to the beauty of the mind, language, behavior, and environment. The Three Loves refer to the motherland, socialism, and the communist party of China.
But it seemed like no one heard him.
His three companions had already pulled the cloth covering the first wooden rack.
Kuang Jinxin walked over reluctantly, first noticing his teammates’ astonished expressions, then he saw what was on the wooden rack—no, inside the wooden cage.
A sleeping male lion.
It was resting its head on its paws, sleeping soundly. Its majestic mane trembled slightly with each breath, exuding a proud and domineering aura.
The three teammates cracked friendly smiles, as if the king of animals in its dream could see them, tiptoeing around, picking up the cloth, and respectfully covering it back.
Sweet dreams. Xu Wang sent his blessings, mouthing it silently.
Kuang Jinxin watched his three teammates with an indescribable look, his eyes clearly saying—this is what you get for snooping.
However, just as his silent complaint flew by, the cloth on the second wooden rack was pulled down.
This time, it wasn’t a cage but just a wooden rack. Inside was utterly empty, save for a lone deep brown box sitting squarely in the middle of the bottom shelf.
Qian Ai took a trembling step back.
Xu Wang and Wu Sheng were slightly better, standing still, but their breathing paused.
A lacquered wooden urn.
The box was carved with flowers, with one side depicting bright mountains and clear waters and the other side evergreen, with a black-and-white photo of an old lady in the middle. She wasn’t smiling; just gazing subtly forward, her eyes seemingly meeting anyone who looked at her.
Perhaps it was an illusion, but the cargo hold seemed to suddenly grow colder, the previously circulating air now carrying drafts of chill.
Xu Wang felt his hair stand on end. He hurriedly covered the box back with the cloth clumsily, saying very sincerely, “Sorry for disturbing.”
He spoke out loud this time, feeling that merely mouthing words wouldn’t show sincerity.
Kuang Jinxin felt like crying. “Let’s go back to the upper cabin…”
This time, Qian Ai raised both hands and feet in agreement.
Unable to tame the lion or disturb the old lady’s peace, Xu Wang and Wu Sheng finally got serious, turning their attention back to “themselves”.
[Stationery Box]: Confirm use of [(Defense) A Clever Rabbit Has Three Burrows]?
Kuang Jinxin, under his teammates’ encouraging gaze, clicked confirm.
Actually, no one knew exactly what [A Clever Rabbit Has Three Burrows] was, but they guessed from the name that it might lend them a helping hand.
Their eyes lit up, and after a brief consultation, they quickly made their choice—Tea room, Emergency exit, Cockpit.
As Kuang Jinxin clicked the last hiding spot, suddenly the ground beneath them vanished. Their bodies swiftly lost weight and they felt as if they were plummeting into an abyss!
[Owl: Someone has used of [(Defense) A Clever Rabbit Has Three Burrows] on you, oh~~]
With this notification, they were caught by a gentle force. Their fall slowed down, and after a while, they landed steadily into a square, narrow space.
The place was like a box, except for the “lid”—the cover above their heads—which was a circular transparent glass about the diameter of a person wide. Everything all around and beneath them was pitch black.
Outside the glass, it seemed to be the cabin, with people occasionally passing by, their shoe patterns clearly visible through the glass.
However, their view was limited like a frog in a well; it was hard to discern even the gender of passersby from the fleeting shadows.
A faint breeze blew from somewhere.
Startled, they fumbled around the pitch-black walls and surprisingly found holes in two walls. They divided up into two groups and crawled through the dark tunnels, quickly reaching the other two spaces that were similarly dark, with only a round piece of transparent glass above. However, they found that the glass could be opened, like an exit to the outside world for these hidden spaces.
Thus, the function of [A Clever Rabbit Has Three Burrows] was fully revealed.
It created a secret space beneath the floor at each of the three chosen locations—Tea room, Emergency exit, Cockpit—where they could hide and observe. The “transparent glass” above was like the one-way glass in police interrogation rooms; those below could look up and see the movements above, while the cabin floor looked normal from above, completely unaware of the watchers below.
And the three locations were connected, allowing the users to move between them.
There was no movement in the Cockpit. The Emergency exit was close to the bomb but also too peripheral with a very narrow view, leaving only the Tea room at the tail of the plane. Taking advantage of the moment the flight attendants left, they slightly opened the “round glass”, getting a clear view of the entire economy class aisle.
So, for the next twenty minutes, that piece of floor opened like a submarine hatch. Whenever there was no one at the tail or the flight attendants were distracted, the floor would occasionally be slightly opened, revealing two spying eyes.
After several rounds of observation, the four of them basically identified their “enemy”. It wasn’t difficult at all—Xu Wang remembered their rough physical features, and besides the flight attendants, they were the most active.
“Ready?” Xu Wang stood in the center, reached up to grasp the horizontal bar of the glass cover above, and turned back to confirm with his teammates for one last time.
Wu Sheng, who couldn’t wait to act, immediately nodded. “Just go!”
“……” Xu Wang felt that this assurance didn’t really comfort him.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the glass cover and sprang out, gesticulating wildly. “Hey, I haven’t reached the nine heavens yet. I’m still here—”
Passengers in the economy class turned around, only to see a man popping up from the floor at the tail, flailing like a madman. Those four also saw him, but their reaction was far more shocked than the passengers—Xu Wang to them was like an evil spirit returning on a night of the living dead—there was no reason to return!
The four initially scattered in the economy class quickly gathered in the middle of the cabin, cautiously facing off against Xu Wang over a distance of more than ten meters.
Xu Wang was waiting for this moment, his lips curling up, feet stomping with a “bang bang”!
He hadn’t covered the lid when he sprang out, so Wu Sheng, already prepared below, immediately leaped out like lightning, charging towards the distant four with [(Offense) Wind That Sweeps Away the Clouds]!
The economy class was suddenly a whirlwind of flying debris and darkness!
The four, not clustered together, would have been fine, but once together, they were like a package ready to be sent off. In an instant, they were lifted into the air, swept by the wind towards the tail of the plane, just like the four of them had been thrown out into the clouds earlier!
Xu Wang knew they had experience, so he was prepared for a new attack, but surprisingly, those four really flew straight towards him and Wu Sheng, as if about to crash into each other like meteors hitting the earth!
Xu Wang quickly used [(Defense) Circular Ground Prison], drawing a purple circle in front of his feet as quick as lightning!
The wind stopped abruptly, and the four, piled up like arhats, fell in front of Xu Wang, eyes wide with rage, yet unable to step out of the circle.
What does it feel like to be an assistant to a popular star?
Before taking the job, Li Tong had countless fantasies of a glamorous and extravagant lifestyle. After becoming an assistant, there was only one feeling left—completely drained every day.
Take today, for instance. Lu Yiyao’s schedule was Beijing to Hangzhou (for a fan meeting), then back to Beijing (for a director’s dinner), and finally off to Shanghai.
He was busy with tasks throughout, and even when not busy, he had to be on standby, never able to relax.
After enduring the dinner, they rushed to the airport. Lu Yiyao was tired and slightly drunk, while Li Tong, though sober, felt as if his feet were floating from exhaustion.
Lu Yiyao originally had several assistants, but he personally requested the company reduce the size of his entourage, as he didn’t want such a big fuss made over him. Eventually, Li Tong was the only one left.
Recently, Li Tong often found himself missing his former colleagues.
“Lu Ge, stop looking at your phone and get some sleep.”
In the spacious nanny van, Yao Hong and the makeup artist were already catching up on some sleep upfront, leaving Lu Yiyao in the back, still flipping through his phone.
If he didn’t sleep, Li Tong couldn’t either, feeling the need to be ready at a moment’s notice. Even dozing felt insecure, like being sick.
“Yeah, I’m going to sleep…” Lu Yiyao hummed weakly, but his hands were still busy scrolling through his phone.
This was the third “I’m going to sleep” Li Tong had heard on the trip, and he knew better than to believe it.
What magic did the phone possess that made Lu Yiyao cling to it with the last bit of his energy, despite his exhaustion?
Li Tong could only relate when he was engrossed in a mobile game.
But Lu Yiyao wasn’t gaming; he was browsing Weibo.
Of course, Li Tong respected a Weibo addict, but Lu Yiyao wasn’t one. He had been with Lu Yiyao long enough to know that the star wasn’t even a phone addict; he spent more time holding a book than his phone in a day.
Or do people do unusual things when they’re drunk?
“Li Tong…” The reclining figure suddenly sat up, trying to get closer to the assistant. His head was a bit heavy from the alcohol, so his frown deepened. “Have you ever been scolded online?”
Li Tong paused for two seconds, then asked uncertainly, “On Weibo?”
Lu Yiyao nodded, probably intending to, but due to the car’s movement and his drunken haze, it looked more like he was shaking his head.
Li Tong sighed. “Lu Ge, I’m not like you. I only have 56 followers on Weibo.”
“Oh…” Lu Yiyao, half sober and half drunk, took a while to respond before changing his question. “What if you had 5.6 million followers, and every Weibo post had over a thousand replies, but most of them were cursing you? How would you feel?”
Li Tong swallowed hard. “Why… should I be that miserable?”
Lu Yiyao thought for a moment, and his brows furrowed even more. “No reason. You’re already in such misery. It’s a fact.”
Li Tong despaired and reluctantly imagined that dreadful scenario, becoming so engrossed that he suddenly became emotional. “I’d curse back at each one!”
Lu Yiyao: “You can’t curse back.”
Li Tong: “Why not?!”
Lu Yiyao: “Just can’t… Consider it a script setting.”
What kind of grudge against the protagonist would require such a script?
Li Tong, utterly drained, finally surrendered to fate. “Then I’d just feel miserable. What else?”
“But there’s a small part that supports you.” Lu Yiyao looked seriously at him. “I said most of them curse you, but not all.”
Li Tong seriously returned his boss’s gaze. “Ten thousand points of damage and one point of healing still leaves 9,999 points of damage.”
Lu Yiyao disagreed. “The curses are just emotional outbursts, often illogical, but the support is different. Each supportive comment is substantial and weighty.”
Unable to hold back, Li Tong turned fully to face Lu Yiyao, to make his point more convincing. “Brother, the comments are mixed. If I can pick out the fifty praising me, it means I’ve already seen the thousand cursing me. Who’s going to analyze which comment has quality after being drowned in insults? Besides, even if the praises make me look good, they can’t elevate me to the heavens. But one ‘F your mom’ is enough to set me off. Which has more weight?”
Lu Yiyao stopped talking, looking back at his phone, his expression a mix of confusion and maybe drunkenness or the effect of his assistant’s rant.
Li Tong slowly withdrew from that mad scenario and finally returned to his professional mindset as the car bounced.
Seeing Lu Yiyao still troubled, Li Tong really wanted to say, “You never used to be so into Weibo, and it didn’t stop your rise to fame. Why bother yourself with it? Fans can be of any temperament, and the slightest thing can trigger a fight. Don’t take it too seriously.”
But that was something Yao Hong could say, not him.
Then again, would Lu Yiyao, who used “substantial” to describe fan comments, be hurt by Weibo criticism? And recently, no one was badmouthing him…
Thankfully, the star finally fell asleep with his phone.
Li Tong turned back and took a cushion to lean against the car window, his eyelids heavy as if filled with lead. After a few blinks, they closed completely.
‘Don’t drink if you can’t handle it,’ he thought. ‘Every time you get drunk, you start a scholarly debate. Last time, you discussed the truth and falseness of ideals, and now, the lethality of Weibo comments. Please, I’m just an assistant. This kind of tedious topic should come with extra pay!’
As consciousness faded, a slight sense of grievance still lingered in the sleeping assistant’s brows.
Lu Yiyao slept from the car to the airport, then from the airport onto the plane. One good thing about being drunk—it aids sleep. Unaffected by turbulence or pressure changes, he awoke to a bright new day.
They rushed nonstop to the gathering place for the fourth episode’s recording—the Oriental Pearl Tower.
Despite the hectic pace, Lu Yiyao barely made it on time. Any later, and he would have been considered late.
Lu Yiyao particularly despised tardiness, whether it was others or himself.
As soon as the car approached the tower, Lu Yiyao heard waves of screaming. Looking through the window, he saw that the base of the tower was surrounded by an impassable crowd of enthusiastic people.
Many were there to buy tickets to enter the tower but decided to stay and watch the excitement upon seeing a filming in progress.
The driver from the show’s team, who had obviously scouted the location beforehand, drove around the crowd, entering a path cordoned off by security personnel. Soon, they arrived at the base of the tower.
The program team’s equipment was already fully set up and being tested. The director, clad in a cotton coat, was discussing something with the cameraman. Upon seeing Lu Yiyao’s car, he immediately signaled for the dedicated cameraman to approach.
When Lu Yiyao got out of the car, the screams of the surrounding girls seemed to create a wave of heat.
There had been onlookers during the previous three recordings, but whether it was an illusion or the effect of the first episode’s airing, it felt like there were more people this time, and they were more enthusiastic.
As Lu Yiyao got out of the car, the other four male guests, who had been waiting in another vehicle, were also led out by the staff.
Finally, the five companions gathered at the base of the tower.
In late February in Shanghai, the sunshine was like a deceptive facade—bright to look at but offering no warmth. Perhaps due to the climate, the breeze carried a hint of moisture. Although not strong, it felt bone-chilling once it hit.
For the first time, the program team provided the guests with uniform clothing—a fleece-lined round-neck sweatshirt with the <National First Love Drifting Story> logo on the chest, in a blue and white combination. From a distance, they looked like a group of school uniforms come to life.
Lu Yiyao had already changed into the outfit in the car and had mentally prepared himself for the visual impact. However, seeing the other four companions still made him unable to suppress his smile as he approached the group.
“That’s enough.” Gu Jie felt like he was being laughed at. “You don’t look much better in it.”
Lu Yiyao tried to control his laughter, waving his hand. “It’s not bad. Just a bit… spectacular.”
To be honest, the outfit wasn’t ugly—standard design, okay print, and the colors were fresh and pleasing. It’s just that they had never worn uniforms before, and suddenly doing so made them look like a school reunion rather than a rafting group, which was visually amusing.
As they chatted and laughed, Lu Yiyao glanced at Ran Lin nonchalantly.
Ran Lin didn’t join the discussion very warmly, but his eyes were smiling at the center of the conversation. So when Lu Yiyao glanced over, their eyes met.
Ran Lin was startled, then gave a big smile to his companion as a silent greeting.
Lu Yiyao paused for two seconds before smiling back at him from a distance.
The playful banter among the companions gradually quieted down as the director came over to announce the theme of the day.
Lu Yiyao watched the director’s lips move but was still preoccupied with Ran Lin’s state.
He expected Ran Lin to be at least somewhat downcast, but the smile just now seemed genuinely lighthearted, although polite.
It was a good thing that Ran Lin wasn’t disturbed by those comments on the internet, but Lu Yiyao always feels uneasy. After interacting in the first three episodes, he knew that Ran Lin wasn’t a heartless person. He wasn’t like himself, who was somewhat self-centered and indifferent to external comments. On the contrary, Ran Lin probably cared a lot about the feelings of those around him, tended to empathize involuntarily, and had the unfortunate character of always hoping to make everyone around him comfortable.
Could someone like that forget about such harsh criticism overnight?
Especially since the online comments hadn’t ceased with yesterday’s formation, many were still fiercely debating.
Or did his own Weibo post really encourage Ran Lin that much?
Lu Yiyao pursed his lips, not fully believing this conclusion, but he couldn’t help feeling uplifted by it. He wasn’t sure if he was happy for Ran Lin’s brightness or proud of his own influence.
One thing was certain, though—he had been acting strangely recently.
“…And now let’s welcome today’s mystery guest!”
The director’s sudden enthusiasm finally drew Lu Yiyao’s attention back.
Everyone looked towards the entrance, and he quickly followed suit. A luxurious sponsored car drove up slowly and stopped in front of them. The door opened, and a long leg stepped out of the car.
Before the exaggerated “wow” from the Drifting team ended, a blue and white sweatshirt appeared, turning the “wow” into laughter, changing the atmosphere from excitement to humor.
No matter how handsome, no one can look cool in a cartoonish logo. But the laughter made the guest and the team seem closer. The handsome male guest jogged into the camera’s main area.
Lu Yiyao clapped, surprised—this was the second unexpected thing today.
Not only was it the first time the show had invited a guest, but it was also an old acquaintance—Tang Xiaoyu, the second male lead from “Yun Zhang.”
Tang Xiaoyu didn’t act like a stranger either. He entered the group, greeted everyone, and gave Lu Yiyao a brotherly hug. “Long time no see.”
Lu Yiyao patted his back, welcoming him. “You kept it well hidden. You didn’t even drop a hint.”
Tang Xiaoyu shrugged with a laugh. “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
Everyone then realized these two had been in the same crew for months and had many scenes together, so they must be familiar.
Gu Jie teased, “Hey, don’t go easy just because you know each other. Our show is all about real competition. First Love is a sacred title!”
Tang Xiaoyu reassuringly patted Gu Jie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Now that I’m here, I won’t let you be troubled. That title is definitely mine.”
Gu Jie with black lines: “……”
Xia Xinran narrowed his eyes. “Brothers, I want to beat him up.”
Unable to hold back, Ran Lin mischievously joined in the fun. “I’m with you in spirit.”
Tang Xiaoyu blinked his eyes, looking at Lu Yiyao for help, appearing as pitiful as possible.
Lu Yiyao sighed faintly. “You reap what you sow. No sympathy.”
It was unclear whether the group’s growing synergy or Tang Xiaoyu acting as a catalyst was the reason, but from the start of the fourth episode, the atmosphere was exceptionally smooth and natural, with plenty of humor and highlights and a good rhythm.
Those involved didn’t feel it strongly, at most finding it more comfortable than before.
However, the director, as an observer, was delighted.
In fact, during the third episode’s deserted island survival and birthday party, the natural rapport among the five had already begun to show, though still imperfect.
Now, the five had completely let go, even eliminating the occasional awkwardness, whether unconscious or overly forceful, so much so that watching their interactions during filming was enough to feel the team spirit.
National First Love Drifting Story finally became the National First Love Drifting Team.
Building a team spirit wasn’t the initial direction of the director and the planning team. They originally wanted to show the real reactions of the stars facing difficulties and tasks unprepared. But the natural development led to the five becoming a team.
The director suspected he played a role in this, believing the notion, “We have a common enemy called the production team,” is an easy unifier.
Whether by chance or inevitability, this development was welcomed by him and the entire production team.
The stars were comfortable, and so were the viewers—a resonance rule applicable to all reality shows.
The first day of filming started at the base of the Oriental Pearl Tower, with real segments in Jing’an Temple business district and Tianzifang.
The tasks were still tricky but enhanced in overall feel and fun. With time, not only the guest team but also the production team improved.
Especially during the Tianzifang treasure hunt, Xia Xinran, who first found a treasure, was ambushed by Lu Yiyao, resulting in an alliance between Xia Xinran and Gu Jie against Lu Yiyao. But Lu Yiyao was no pushover, teaming up with Tang Xiaoyu for a two-on-two battle.
As the tussle intensified, Ran Lin happened by, observing for a while, remaining neutral despite both sides’ persuasion, and casually walked past.
When Ran Lin later uncovered another hidden treasure, the four were still without a result. Frustrated, Ran Lin said, “Why don’t we just settle it with rock-paper-scissors, a highly efficient conflict resolution method invented by our ancestors.”
Both sides, exhausted from their efforts, finally considered and agreed to the proposal. But just as they put down the treasure and were about to start the game, Zhang Beichen, like Gu Jie grabbing the badge in the Battle of Guilin, snatched the opportunity and reaped the benefits with a lightning-fast move.
Zhang Beichen swiftly made his escape, while Ran Lin found himself in a tough spot. Without needing to explain, he clutched his treasure and ran as fast as he could.
Eventually cornered in a dead end, just when everyone thought he had no choice but to tearfully hand over his treasure, Ran Lin miraculously pulled out a “Group Freeze Card”.
The four were caught completely off guard, dumbstruck, and for a moment, they looked as if they were actually frozen.
In the end, the production team’s logo on the Freeze Card forced them to face the reality—Ran Lin had discovered a magical item in some secret location.
As Ran Lin walked away proudly from the four, Bearded Cameraman Sun, who had followed the entire sequence, was out of breath, although it was unclear whether from running or from laughter.
A good variety show is the result of a good director, good planning, good segments, and good guests all coming together.
This battle in Tianzifang was much richer and more interesting than the previous adventure in Guanyan.
For Tang Xiaoyu, participating in the filming for the first time, his experience might be more telling.
His main purpose here was to promote his new drama and, secondly, to gain some fans through the show’s popularity. But having watched the first episode and the subsequent online reviews, he had modest expectations for this promotional event arranged by his agent. His main goal was to make an appearance without attracting negative attention.
However, the experience of filming for one day turned out to be beyond his expectations.
He had participated in reality shows before and knew that relationships among some guests were good both on and off camera, while for others, it was more about performance than genuine feelings. From the first episode, it seemed that this group was at a beginner level in reality shows, unable to act naturally even on camera, let alone off it.
But the filming today was harmonious and well-coordinated throughout, with everyone fully engaged in the competition, teasing each other joyfully, yet strangely enough, there was a sense of camaraderie. Even Lu Yiyao, who usually seemed a bit distant, appeared friendly and likable. He wondered if it was because the editing of the first episode focused too much on the awkward moments or if these people had really bonded so quickly, already showing a team vibe by the fourth episode.
Indeed, he felt that Lu Yiyao was somewhat cold.
He and Lu Yiyao were familiar with each other, but this familiarity was more of an objective kind. Any two people who had lived and worked together on a film set for months, spending most of that time filming opposite each other, would naturally become acquainted, unless they had particularly difficult personalities.
But they weren’t close friends.
Lu Yiyao was easy to get along with, professional, and hardworking, hardly ever losing his temper on set. He treated everyone with respect, regardless of their status, whether they were fellow actors or crew members, winning over many colleagues who were initially indifferent towards him. Producers and directors also liked such actors—easy to work with and reliable. So even before the drama <Yun Zhang> became a hit, Lu Yiyao’s good reputation had already spread within the industry.
But for some reason, Tang Xiaoyu just felt that Lu Yiyao was hard to get close to. Easy to get along with, but hard to fully connect with. Perhaps it was because Lu Yiyao himself wasn’t keen on sharing his own affairs, thoughts, or feelings. So in their interactions, you might lay bare your heart, but he would remain as unmoved as a bell, only smiling at you gently.
Over time, you’d also become reluctant to open up to him, and being warm acquaintances seemed good enough.
That’s why Tang Xiaoyu felt that today’s Lu Yiyao was somewhat different from the one he remembered.
Not always keeping everything to himself, always wearing a smile, but being nice when needed, naughty when appropriate, and confrontational when necessary. He couldn’t be said to be completely spontaneous, but he seemed more like a “friend” now.
“Congratulations to all the First Love male gods! Today’s task segment is over, and next is the much anticipated… luxurious dinner!”
As the director announced, waiters carrying various dishes streamed out, instantly filling the courtyard with enticing aromas.
This was a private restaurant built in the style of a traditional garden, with pavilions, water features, and winding corridors, exuding an ancient charm. The show’s dinner was set under a stage in the back garden.
On the stage was a specially invited Pingtan performance, with soft, gentle, and slow Wu dialect singing and playing, conveying the beauty of old times even to those who couldn’t understand the words.
Below the stage was a large Eight Immortals table* where six people sat around, salivating over the rich local dishes.
*Table designed to seat eight people.
After the Pingtan performance, the artists left the stage, and without waiting for the director’s cue, the six starving people exchanged glances and said, “Let’s eat!”
It was more of a scramble than a meal, especially for the braised pork, of which there were only five pieces. Tang Xiaoyu’s chopsticks were only a second too late, leaving him with nothing but the bottom of the dish.
National First Loves?
More like a group competing for affection!
As the meal was ending, Lu Yiyao got up to go to the bathroom. Normally, the cameramen wouldn’t follow for such things, so when Lu Yiyao, having finished his business, was washing his hands in an antique blue-and-white porcelain basin, he was surprised to see Xia Xinran walk in. It was the first time that day he and a colleague were in a private space without cameras.
Xia Xinran had followed Lu Yiyao’s route, so he wasn’t surprised to see him. He looked around the bathroom and commented to his colleague, “The decor is quite uniform, even the restroom is in Chinese style…”
Everyone’s mics were off at that moment, so Xia Xinran’s joke was more down-to-earth.
Lu Yiyao didn’t play along but changed the subject. “When did you guys arrive yesterday?”
Lu Yiyao asked casually, and Xia Xinran answered naturally, “Zhang Beichen was the earliest, arriving in the afternoon, Gu Jie probably around eight, because when I arrived after nine, he was already there. Ran Lin was the latest. I don’t know exactly when he came. I was already asleep by then.”
“So you only met Ran Lin this morning?”
“Right.”
“Oh…” Lu Yiyao responded, glancing at himself in the mirror, pretending to be casual, then bent down to press more hand soap into his palm, continuing to scrub.
When Xia Xinran came over to wash his hands, he found Lu Yiyao still standing there and asked curiously, “What’s taking you so long? Is there gold in your basin?”
Lu Yiyao’s expression remained unchanged, but his heart skipped a beat. “Waiting for you.”
Xia Xinran said, “I’m not a young lady. I don’t need company to go to the bathroom.”
“Mm.” Lu Yiyao agreed smoothly, then continued the conversation. “How was it this morning when everyone gathered?”
Xia Xinran turned off the tap, drying his hands with a paper towel, and asked in confusion, “What do you mean, how was it? We just sat in the car waiting for you. What, feeling guilty?”
Lu Yiyao said sincerely, “A bit.”
Xia Xinran laughed. “No need. We already got our revenge while waiting for you. Believe me, you don’t want to see that footage.”
Lu Yiyao smiled, imagining the lively scene of everyone uniting against a common enemy. “Did Ran Lin also talk about me?”
As he asked, Lu Yiyao finally turned off the tap and came over to dry his hands, his eyes slightly downcast and his tone and demeanor casual.
But Xia Xinran sensed the truth behind the question.
In fact, had he thought more carefully earlier, he would have realized it sooner. Who would have thought that Lu Yiyao would pick such a peculiar place as a men’s restroom to let down his guard?
“He wouldn’t talk about you. You posted that Weibo yesterday like a timely rain. Now he probably sees you with a halo over your head.”
Sometimes Lu Yiyao found Xia Xinran’s bluntness annoying, but other times he had to admit that his straightforward manner was refreshing.
With the subject out in the open, he asked directly, “How was Ran Lin’s mood this morning?”
Xia Xinran sighed helplessly. “How could I ask with cameras everywhere in the car? Anyway, he seemed normal, not good or bad.”
“Not good or bad, huh… I thought he seemed quite normal during the whole day’s filming.”
“In situations like this, being normal is abnormal.” Xia Xinran analyzed. “It’s his first time facing such widespread criticism. Unless he has a heart of steel, no one would be completely unaffected. But that’s how it is with filming shows; you can’t exactly look miserable on camera.”
Lu Yiyao thought about it and agreed. “Makes sense.”
“I apologize to you,” Xia Xinran suddenly blurted out.
Lu Yiyao looked puzzled. “Hm?”
Xia Xinran threw the paper towel into the bin and walked up to Lu Yiyao, looking him in the eye. “I used to think you were too aloof, but after you offered your villa for the task last time and helped Ran Lin this time, regardless of your motives, it’s commendable. So I take back my previous dislike of you, and from now on…” Xia Xinran raised his hands and fired imaginary “friendship bullets”. “I have high hopes for you!”
“……” Lu Yiyao instinctively stepped back, his palms against the washbasin.
“But your house decoration is too cold; it’s a seaside view, not the Northern Lights. Doesn’t living there long-term get depressing?”
Lu Yiyao didn’t know how to respond. His feelings were teetering on the edge of love and hate. Perhaps this could be described as… the friendship of the entertainment industry?
……
“Next, we’re heading to the hotel where we’ll stay tonight…” the director said, looking at the messy table with his eyes shining. “Do you want to guess where we’ll be staying tonight?”
The six handsome guys looked at each other. Ran Lin was the first to raise his hand timidly. “Disneyland Hotel?”
The director’s smile froze, and he glanced at the planning team!
The planner looked innocent, indicating he hadn’t leaked anything and had signed a confidentiality agreement!
Xia Xinran saw through the ruse and cheered instantly.
The director, though reluctantly, delivered his prepared line. “Yes, it’s Disneyland. Surprised or not, excited or not?”
The six wanted to play along, but under such circumstances, any more forced enthusiasm would be an insult to the audience. So amidst awkward and quiet smiles, Gu Jie raised his hand second. “Director, are there other surprises?”
The director narrowed his eyes, radiating an arrogance of “you’re still too green to play with me”.
The six felt a chill down their spines as the staff brought out a box for drawing lots.
“We are grateful for Disney’s support of our show, but due to the hotel’s limited availability, we can only provide three rooms. However, don’t worry, they are all double-bed deluxe rooms with a view. All you need to do now is let fate decide your roommates in this magical box!”
The six were unimpressed. “It’s just sharing a hotel room…”
Despite the grumbling, Xia Xinran was the first to reach into the box, loving these lottery-like activities.
“Elsa?” Xia Xinran pulled out a round tag with the main character of <Frozen> on it.
Zhang Beichen, the second to draw, was full of anticipation and ended up with Mickey Mouse.
Ran Lin drew third. His face wasn’t overly expressive, but his eyes shone with curiosity and excitement, and he ended up with Winnie the Pooh.
The three men, each with a cartoon character, looked at each other, not seeing any resemblance to roommates.
Tang Xiaoyu, as a guest, calmly waited for the last draw. Gu Jie wasn’t much interested in such childish games, and Lu Yiyao, seeing his remaining companions, stood up fourth.
As he approached the box, Ran Lin, who had just drawn, stepped back to give him space.
Lu Yiyao glanced at him, but Ran Lin was too engrossed in studying his tag to look up.
Shrugging, Lu Yiyao reached into the box.
After fumbling around, the tags all felt similar, and eventually, Lu Yiyao picked the one at the very bottom. Pulling it out, he saw the lively character on the tag seemed ready to leap off the paper—Winnie’s friend, Tigger.
The programs broadcast on satellite TV channels at night, unless they are so popular that everyone is eager to watch them live by any means necessary, usually only start to see a real peak in discussions after noon the next day, or even in the evening.
Since more and more people are no longer accustomed to watching live broadcasts on TV, they prefer to wait until the show is over and then watch the full version on online platforms. They can drag the progress bar to rewatch or skip sections as they please, and if the show isn’t enough, they can even add to the fun with live comments.
For the whole day of February 15th, aside from the show’s team releasing some cut footage to capitalize on the buzz, the five guests of the show remained silent. Their Weibo accounts mostly had posts from the previous evening, before the show aired, with content clearly promoting the show and sharing the anticipation of the premiere with their fans.
Beneath this surface calm was a collective wait-and-see from the stars’ teams. Experienced PR and marketing teams know that unless you’re only after short-term attention, you should never speak out at the peak of public opinion. For example, between a star who fights back against netizens and one who lets them mock without a word, it’s clear who’s more likely to stir up netizen backlash and who’s more likely to gain their sympathy.
Of course, fans can say, “Why shouldn’t a star fight back?” or “I like my idol’s authenticity,” but objectively, such actions actually affect the perception of neutral observers.
The general public doesn’t care about the intricacies of celebrity feuds; they just want entertainment. If a star can take mockery and criticism lying down, even if they’re full of flaws, they’re seen as likable.
Sometimes, through this mockery, they can even turn haters into fans. Conversely, if a star is constantly fighting with netizens, even if their anger is justified, they will be labeled as overly sensitive by the public.
After all, most people think that if you enjoy the huge benefits of being a public figure, you should also endure some of the unique hardships, including but not limited to being criticized, blackened, fantasized about, or turned into memes.
It’s not about whether such thinking is right or wrong; the public doesn’t need anyone to teach them how to behave. They simply follow their emotional logic, and sometimes, after a two-second rant and a scroll through their feed, they forget about it.
But management teams do summarize, analyze, and speculate, eventually deducing effective public relations rules. First, for serious issues affecting the star’s image, like marriage, dating, fighting, or scandals, if there’s no solid proof, the first step is to issue a firm denial.
Second, for issues that somewhat affect the image but are essentially true, like poor acting, overuse of stunt doubles, or questionable quality of films, TV shows, and variety shows, the strategy is to avoid forced whitewashing*. Instead, subtly shift the focus to other aspects to mine the star’s likability and gradually shift the focus, thus quelling public opinion or even turning it positive.
*Deliberately mislead people in various ways, causing them to forget a celebrity’s bad past.
Finally, for issues that don’t affect the star’s image, or rather, hot topics completely unrelated to the star, unless necessary, PR teams usually advise against capitalizing on them. Especially if the topic involves other celebrities, a successful association might earn a reputation for being decisive, but a failed one can backfire.
Now, the other four teams were facing a combination of the second and third scenarios.
Regarding the questionable reception of the show, they were watching and waiting. After all, only the first episode had aired, and there hadn’t been a wave of severe criticism—just comments about it being somewhat bland. However, there were occasional highlights that surprised the audience, so fans were still looking forward to the second episode, and many neutral viewers were willing to give it another chance.
For Ran Lin, caught in a storm of criticism, they were even more cautious. The comments were too one-sided, and this had nothing to do with Ran Lin’s actions but rather the trouble caused by his small fan base. What could have been a two-way fight ended up being a collective condemnation. The little support for Ran Lin was completely drowned out, and with his history of controversial news and buying hot searches, his team’s silence now proves that they know it wasn’t wise to confront directly, but to outsmart. Therefore, the other four must not jump out at this time, or they would become easy targets—more exciting than an 18th-tier celebrity without a fan base standing up for Ran Lin.
If they did, it wouldn’t just be a battle between fans of the show, neutral viewers, and fans of the celebrities. Teams from competing shows and stars vying for the same image and resources would also join in, both openly and secretly, hoping to strike down their competitors and benefit themselves in the chaos.
However, as clever as these star teams may be, they are still human. They can’t perfect every detail or foresee every future. Sometimes they even struggle to control their own stars and have to clean up after their impulsive actions.
Wang Xi picked just such a detail, contacting the most suitable person.
“What do you want us to do? Can you tell us again?”
Yao Hong was in the airport lounge with Lu Yiyao, waiting to board their flight, when she received the call from her “former colleague”.
Lu Yiyao’s schedule for the year was almost non-stop. Like today, right after a magazine shoot, they had to rush to the airport for a flight to Hangzhou. Tomorrow morning, there was a fan meeting there, and in the afternoon, they had to fly back to Beijing immediately for a dinner party hosted by a well-known director. These kinds of dinners often last till late at night, so as soon as it ends, they would have to rush to the airport for the earliest flight to Shanghai to start recording the fourth episode of <National First Love Drifting Story>.
If you were to ask where Lu Yiyao spends most of his time throughout the year, apart from hotels, it would be airports.
Initially, Lu Yiyao didn’t pay much attention to Yao Hong’s call, but when she looked at him and then moved to a more secluded spot to continue the conversation, it became intriguing.
“I’m saying, the fourth episode is being recorded the day after tomorrow, so everyone can jointly post a promotional Weibo tomorrow. After all, the negative reception of the show doesn’t benefit your Lu Yiyao either. Even if the relationship between the guests isn’t great, it’s better to appear harmonious on the surface.” Wang Xi, uncharacteristically devoid of her usual sharpness, spoke with all the respect of a junior to a senior.
Yao Hong had always thought that if Wang Xi had been this adaptable back in their days at Pentium, perhaps it would have been her who left. Yao Hong was a year older than Wang Xi but entered the industry much earlier. So, when both were at Pentium, Wang Xi was dead set on ousting her to become the top agent. However, due to her abrasive personality and conflicts with the higher-ups, Wang Xi eventually left.
Yao Hong didn’t like Wang Xi’s personality but always acknowledged her capabilities.
“I know your Ran Lin is getting heavily criticized, but having Lu Yiyao attract attention now isn’t very fair.” Yao Hong would have politely refused and then hung up if it were anyone else, but because it was Wang Xi, she felt the need to listen more.
Wang Xi seemed to anticipate Yao Hong wouldn’t hang up and continued in a calm, progressive manner. “I don’t need Lu Yiyao to stand up for Ran Lin, but as a guest on the show, promoting it is certainly not illegal, right?”
Yao Hong: “What do you want him to promote?”
Wang Xi: “The recording is on the 17th, so everyone will be heading to Shanghai tomorrow night, the 16th. At that time, post a Weibo with the topic of <National First Love Drifting Story>, something like ‘starting our fourth journey’, and tag the other four guests and the show’s team. How about that?”
Yao Hong: “Flawless.”
Wang Xi: “You understand best, Hong Jie.”
Yao Hong rolled her eyes, unsure whether to be angry or to laugh, but kept her emotions to herself. Returning to business, she said, “It’s indeed harmless to post such a Weibo, but if Lu Yiyao doesn’t post, it seems it wouldn’t make much of a difference. At such times, doing less is better than doing more.”
Wang Xi had anticipated this response. She would have had the same considerations, but Yao Hong was too conservative. Conservatism meant stability, but too much stability meant no surprises. “Have you considered that if Ran Lin’s reputation improves in future episodes, or even just gets a bit better, people will criticize your silence now, disappointing both fans and neutrals?”
“They’re already disappointed with the show.”
“But then, they’ll be disappointed with the silent guests themselves. Lu Yiyao doesn’t need a reality show; ratings don’t matter to him, but if his image collapses, how will you salvage it?”
Yao Hong paused before asking, “Do you really have that much confidence in Ran Lin’s turnaround?”
Wang Xi knew Yao Hong was seriously considering her suggestion. She just needed to reassure her. “I can’t guarantee Ran Lin’s turnaround, but as you said, posting or not posting the Weibo doesn’t affect Lu Yiyao. So why not add an extra layer of insurance to his image?”
Yao Hong pondered even longer this time. Wang Xi had patience and would wait in silence.
After a while, Yao Hong finally spoke again, not directly responding but half-jokingly, half-seriously saying, “Somehow I feel that if we stay silent and Ran Lin’s reputation improves, you’ll lead the charge to tear down people’s images…”
Wang Xi was taken aback, surprised at the misinterpretation. “I absolutely don’t mean that. You’re more experienced than me. I can’t play games with you. I genuinely want a win-win for both sides…”
“No need for a win-win. Separate wins are fine,” Yao Hong subtly reminded her. Since Wang Xi hadn’t tied Lu Yiyao to controversies recently, she left it at that. “But it’s ultimately Lu Yiyao’s Weibo. What he posts is up to him. I’ll explain the pros and cons to him. Thanks for your reminder.”
“Wait before hanging up.” Wang Xi sensed the conversation ending and seized the last chance. “Let me add one more thing…”
Yao Hong leisurely said, “Yes, go on.”
Wang Xi: “The other three teams are definitely watching too. They’re afraid of getting burned, but they also don’t want the show to flop. So, if someone takes the lead, I think they’ll be willing to follow. Creating a united atmosphere and image benefits both the show and the guests.”
Yao Hong became curious. “Then why don’t you approach the other agents? If they take the lead, Lu Yiyao will follow.”
Wang Xi immediately responded, “They don’t have your breadth of experience and insight.”
Yao Hong rubbed her temples, feeling overwhelmed. “Are you trying to make up for all the compliments you owe me from the past…”
In the end, Yao Hong didn’t commit to posting the Weibo. Wang Xi hung up, her smile fading to a more tired and serious expression. She wasn’t sure if Yao Hong would convince Lu Yiyao to post. Despite her confident words on the phone, if one thought about it, the situation wasn’t as straightforward as she made it seem.
If Ran Lin truly turned his reputation around, the four who neither supported nor criticized him would be called out, but it wouldn’t be a character-breaking level of criticism. In the end, Ran Lin’s influence and status weren’t enough.
Her bet was on Yao Hong, a classic “mother hen” agent who was extremely protective of her artist.
“Ran Lin’s agent called.” Returning to the sofa, Yao Hong shared the answer with Lu Yiyao before he could ask.
Lu Yiyao was inwardly surprised, with a mix of other subtle emotions passing quickly—too fast to distinguish between anticipation and curiosity—but he remained cool on the surface. “Does she need something from you?”
“Not from me, but from you.”
Yao Hong took the lid of the thermos cup on the coffee table—filled with water after passing security, now lukewarm—drank it steadily, capped it again, put the thermos back in her bag, and then relayed Wang Xi’s call to Lu Yiyao.
For the first time, Lu Yiyao discovered that Yao Hong’s methodical nature could be quite grinding. What frustrated him more was that he couldn’t show his impatience. No, he didn’t even know why he was impatient. Was it just because he wanted to see if Ran Lin’s reaction matched the miserable scenario he had imagined all day?
“Just… like that?” After listening to Yao Hong’s account, Lu Yiyao realized that there was no news about Ran Lin from beginning to end, only an exchange of experiences and strategic considerations between the management teams.
Yao Hong detected a hint of disappointment in her artist’s tone but couldn’t understand why. “What else did you think she would say?”
“Oh, no.” Lu Yiyao quickly regained his composure, correcting himself. “I mean, they just want me to post such a Weibo?”
Yao Hong, somewhat exasperated, wondered why her artist suddenly seemed naïve. “Asking you to post is already quite presumptuous, let alone if the content is risky. Who would listen to her?”
Lu Yiyao nodded, asking, “What do you think, Hong Jie?”
Yao Hong sighed, analyzing sensibly. “Right now, Ran Lin is being criticized so harshly that if he has any standout moments in the show, his reputation could easily rebound. A turnaround isn’t impossible.”
Lu Yiyao: “So, should I still post this Weibo?”
Yao Hong pondered for a moment, then shook her head slightly. “It’s not absolute. Ran Lin’s side definitely hopes you post as soon as possible, hence the timing before the night of the 17th‘s recording. But the second episode airs on the 21st, and we’ll definitely have to cooperate with the show’s team for promotion before that. Posting then and tagging everyone isn’t too late.”
“But it would be late for Ran Lin.” Lu Yiyao understood the situation after Yao Hong’s explanation.
“Yes.” Yao Hong knew Lu Yiyao got it. “A week without interaction is enough to pin him with an unpopular label. It’ll be hard to restore credibility later.”
“So,” Yao Hong left the decision to her artist, “it’s up to you what to do.”
……
On the evening of February 16th, exactly forty-five hours after the first episode’s premiere, Lu Yiyao updated his Weibo—
[Shanghai, I’m here! #NationalFirstLoveDriftingStory @XXSatelliteTV @Gu Jie @Ran Lin @Xia Xinran @Zhang Beichen]
The Weibo post was short, with a photo of Lu Yiyao’s tall figure under the Oriental Pearl Tower taken six months ago.
Before fans and onlookers could react, Zhang Beichen’s Weibo followed up twenty minutes later—
[I arrived early 😝//@Lu Yiyao: Shanghai, I’m here! #NationalFirstLoveDriftRecord @XXSatelliteTV @Gu Jie @Ran Lin @Xia Xinran @Zhang Beichen]
At 8 p.m., Xia Xinran’s Weibo belatedly chimed in—
[I strongly demand a visit to Disneyland 🤪 🤪 🤪 #NationalFirstLoveDriftRecord @XXSatelliteTV @Gu Jie @Lu Yiyao @Ran Lin @Zhang Beichen]
The accompanying photo showed Mickey and Minnie Mouse holding hands and spinning around.
At 8:14 p.m., it was Gu Jie’s turn—
[Every drift makes the biceps on my arms brighter 😎 #NationalFirstLoveDriftRecord @XXSatelliteTV @Lu Yiyao @Ran Lin @Xia Xinran @Zhang Beichen]
The photo was a close-up of Gu Jie rock climbing from the first episode.
At 8:19 PM, it was Ran Lin—
[I have a secret strategy 🐶 #NationalFirstLoveDriftRecord @XXSatelliteTV @Gu Jie @Lu Yiyao @Xia Xinran @Zhang Beichen]
The picture captured the trust fall from the first episode, with Ran Lin falling backwards from a height into the arms of his fellow participants.
At 8:32 PM, Zhang Beichen again—
[Running with the waves~ #NationalFirstLoveDriftingStory @XXSatelliteTV @Gu Jie @Lu Yiyao @Ran Lin @Xia Xinran]
*Clarity: In terms of social media, this is a slang term referring to the coordinated or collective action of a group of people, especially in terms of posting online, commenting, or responding on social media.
No matter the reception of a show or the internal relationships, maintaining a united and friendly front is essential. Many onlookers and casual viewers aren’t solely looking for negativity; it’s just that negative content more easily prompts them to comment. As soon as a bit of positivity is released, regardless of its authenticity, they’re willing to buy into it.
However, fans, with their discerning eyes, see through all these promotional tactics, refusing to be fooled! Thus, objective analysts continue to analyze, front-liners continue their assault, and of course, there are the peaceful fans who focus on adoring their idols for a hundred years.
In the entertainment industry, every word and action can start a trend and influence public opinion, good or bad. Like throwing a stone into a river, it starts with a “plop”, but gradually, ripples spread out.
But these effects require time to ferment. And Ran Lin was still oblivious to all this.
Half an hour before Zhang Beichen posted his final formation Weibo—at 8 p.m., Xia Xinran was still editing his Weibo, and Wang Xi had just returned from visiting Han Ze’s set, pulling out her phone, which had been neglected all afternoon and evening.
“…Since we decided to post, couldn’t you remind me so I wouldn’t die?” Seeing the timing of Lu Yiyao’s post, Wang Xi was beyond exasperated. Sure enough, she and Yao Hong would never see eye-to-eye.
But Lu Yiyao’s Weibo tagging was impressively meticulous, arranged alphabetically by surname, showing incredible attention to detail.
After going through Lu Yiyao’s Weibo, Wang Xi checked the other three guests’ accounts. Except for Zhang Beichen, there was no activity from the others. Zhang Beichen’s interaction wasn’t what she wanted. Such one-on-one interactions were meaningless for Ran Lin unless he was the one being tagged, but obviously, the reply was to Lu Yiyao.
Frustrated, Wang Xi saw Xia Xinran’s Weibo pop up on her homepage.
Seeing that formation, she almost wanted to kiss Xia Xinran through the screen. That’s why not just any genuine personality can thrive like Xia Xinran. You see him being carefree, but you buy into his freedom; that’s not just compatibility; it’s his intelligence, with a bit of natural audience appeal.
With Xia Xinran’s assist in queuing, the rest became easier.
Wang Xi immediately called Ran Lin.
After a long ring, the call was finally answered. The voice, though not particularly energetic, wasn’t as downcast as imagined. “Xi Jie?”
Wang Xi felt slightly relieved and returned to her usual assertive tone. “Why did you take so long to answer?”
Ran Lin said, “I was studying strategies.”
Wang Xi frowned. “What?”
“Uh, the Disneyland map, and some strategies written by people who’ve been there. Just in case it comes in handy…”
Wang Xi laughed. “Looks like you’re really gearing up for a fight, all spirited.”
The other end finally laughed. “All forced by the show’s team.”
“Alright, back to business.” Wang Xi became serious. “No matter what you’re doing now, put it down and immediately post a Weibo. The format should be…”
“Promotion?”
Wang Xi frowned; it was rare for Ran Lin to interrupt someone while they were speaking. “Yes, why? Don’t you want to post?”
“No.” There was a moment’s hesitation on the other end. “I’ve already uninstalled Weibo. If it’s for promotion, could you post it for me?”
Wang Xi was taken aback by the unexpected answer. After a two-second pause, she said, “It’s not just for promotion…”
The context was a bit complex, and Wang Xi didn’t know where to start explaining, especially since she wasn’t fond of giving explanations.
“It’s okay, Xi Jie, you handle it. I… want to take a break from Weibo for a while.”
“Alright then.”
Wang Xi didn’t know what else to say. Compared to explaining, she was more amateurish at persuading.
After hanging up, Wang Xi was about to ask the publicity team to work overtime but hesitated before dialing. In the end, she decided to log into Ran Lin’s Weibo herself and post the formation.
Within the next fifteen minutes, Zhang Beichen finally caught up, completing the formation.
Wang Xi, who had been staring at her phone for a long while, finally felt accomplished.
“Learn a bit from Xia Xinran.” Pointing at Zhang Beichen’s avatar, Wang Xi muttered to herself, giving him a lesson in absentia.
At the same time, Lu Yiyao, sneaking a break from the increasingly lively dinner party under the pretense of visiting the restroom, was hiding in the washroom, browsing Weibo.
He didn’t know why, but ever since posting that “Shanghai, I’m here,” he kept wanting to open Weibo every so often.
Finally, his homepage showed the activity he was looking for.
“Secret strategy…” Lu Yiyao stared at Ran Lin’s avatar in the white shirt, falling into a murmuring contemplation. “Did the show team give him spoilers?”
The long-awaited variety show’s premiere was far less exciting than expected, disappointing everyone, including casual viewers, casual fans, and dedicated fans.
Casual viewers usually turn their disappointment into criticism or simply switch to other shows without bothering to comment.
Passersby fans will first go to the program team to make a rational comment on their viewing experience and propose feasible improvement suggestions. Then they will visit the Weibo pages of various guest stars. If they like someone’s performance, they might leave a couple of comments or even become fans of that star. If they think a star needs improvement, they’ll just think about it without typing anything, as it’s someone else’s territory. If they provoke first, they might get torn apart by true fans and have nowhere to seek justice.
The busiest ones are the true fans.
They need to first go to their idol’s page to leave comments and share their viewing experience, mostly positive ones. Occasionally, they might offer suggestions, but always with full love, hoping their idol will perform even better. Then, they’ll go to other guests’ pages whom they like to express their goodwill, such as thanking them for taking care of their idol. Finally, they discreetly observe the guests they don’t like, restraining their urge to criticize and quarrel while closely watching certain unruly fans. If they see someone insulting others, they’ll immediately intervene to smooth things over and apologize to prevent such fans from ruining their idol’s reputation with their behavior.
Initially, everything went as usual. Even an 18th-tier celebrity like Ran Lin gained new fans after the live broadcast.
But when did the situation suddenly change?
If there was a pinpoint, it might be the production team and CP fans’ responsibility.
Firstly, the production team added romantic subtitles and background music to Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao’s interactions, forcefully creating a “shipping” narrative. Secondly, CP fans couldn’t contain their fantasies and started appearing in the celebrities’ social media comments.
The program team’s initial intention was very simple—to create any hype they could, to win over casual fans. Many might not be fans of any of the five people and were just watching the show. However, they could end up being charmed into becoming fans of a CP. Some might have become fans of the pairing during the airport mishap publicity, and the program team’s later editing was undoubtedly like giving them sweets.
The starting point of CP Fans is mostly well-intentioned; they actually know in their hearts that there’s no possibility for these two people, but just simply feel that the two of them together are pleasing to the eye and extremely cute, so cute that they can’t help but run to tell the real people that the sweetness is just too delicious.
The attitudes of the stars themselves towards this matter vary.
But unless a star publicly announces a romantic relationship, the true fans will only have one attitude towards CP fans—please leave gracefully.
Fans will still tear each other apart, even if some stars have already announced a relationship.
Not to mention that this time the program team was hyping up a male-male CP.
Selling this kind of rot*, even if it’s cute for a while, will eventually make fans sick if it’s constantly done.
*Selling rot. It’s coined this due to the term “Rotten Girls” in China referring to basically, a fujoshi—a subculture of young women who are enthusiasts of male-male romance and relationships, often depicted in manga, anime, or fanfiction. This interest is primarily in the realm of fiction and does not necessarily relate to real-life sexual preferences or orientations. So when someone sells rot, it’s basically pandering to these women.
Especially before participating in the variety show, Ran Lin’s airport mishap and subsequent publicity had already left the fans frustrated, and now the disappointment brought by the blandness of the program + the annoyance brought by the fans of the couple pairing + Ran Lin’s own pitfalls in the program, had all brewed into a “black storm”.
The main force of the storm was naturally the fans of Lu Yiyao.
Accompanying them were the onlookers and casual fans who were led by the rhythm.
Casual fans need to find a point to criticize for the disappointment brought by the blandness of the program, while onlookers just enjoy the chaos and join in the fray.
True fans are indeed deeply invested; from spraying at the airport mishap to spending money on trending searches, from bundling Lu Yiyao for publicity to spraying to pushing their way into the variety show team, they have not let go of any pitfalls, every word brimming with righteous indignation.
Was there any deep hatred?
No.
But shouldn’t Ran Lin be criticized?
At least those keyboard-tapping fans and casual viewers all thought so.
Since you hyped up a CP and enjoyed the benefits brought by others, you should have anticipated the day of backlash.
If you want to complain, then go find the CP fans, find your publicity team, or reflect on yourself in the mirror. Fans’ behavior, idols pay the price, main character publicity, crimes compounded.
The widespread ridicule originated from the first episode’s blandness, but by the time Lu Yiyao was scrolling through Weibo in the early morning, no one cared about the origin anymore. A netizen shouting “XXX please leave the entertainment industry” might not have even watched that person’s works, let alone understood their character, but after watching a few spoof videos, spoof photos, or unverified so-called revelations, they rolled up their sleeves and eagerly joined the fray.
If the other party happens to be a small-time celebrity with a small fan base and no power to fight back, then this is definitely a diss carnival without responsibility.
“Don’t make a sound,” Yao Hong opened her eyes at some point and said out of nowhere.
Lu Yiyao didn’t understand. “What?”
Yao Hong sighed lightly and said, “It’s a critical moment now. Don’t talk too much, don’t do too much. It doesn’t matter if this variety show isn’t popular or explosive, but don’t actively attract negativity to yourself.”
Lu Yiyao looked at Yao Hong for a while and suddenly laughed. “Hong Jie, you’re thinking too much. I’m just scrolling through Weibo.”
Yao Hong looked him up and down, half-jokingly and half-seriously said, “I see your sense of justice is about to break through the ceiling.”
Lu Yiyao was embarrassed and said helplessly, “It’s instinct. I was born with a strong sense of justice. It’s not my fault.”
Seeing Yao Hong was about to speak, Lu Yiyao quickly raised his hand and promised, “But what should be done and what shouldn’t be done, I know.”
Yao Hong looked at him suspiciously for a while, then nodded and let go of her worries.
Lu Yiyao turned off his phone, leaned back on the sofa, and began to try to clear his mind of the messy Weibo comments, @mentions, and reposts…
The other cover star finally arrived leisurely within half an hour.
He arrived so quickly that Lu Yiyao’s mind-clearing work wasn’t yet completely finished when it was forced to stop.
Lu Yiyao handed his phone to Yao Hong for safekeeping, then got up and went to the next makeup room to exchange pleasantries with the other party.
The male star had a somewhat arrogant attitude, but in front of Lu Yiyao, he didn’t dare to go too far.
Lu Yiyao felt completely calm inside. He even thought that, compared to the abuses still cluttering his mind, the male star in front of him seemed innocently adorable.
Most of those comment IDs were his die-hard fans, the kind that loved him truly and deeply.
They lifted him up to the clouds and trampled Ran Lin into the mud.
Yao Hong worrying about him doing something unnecessary was really overthinking it.
He never felt that he could teach his fans how to behave. Everyone is an independent individual, born equal. If you like me, I thank you; if you don’t, I wish you well.
He doesn’t lead the rhythm. If he really did, Ran Lin would have been obliterated long ago.
However, observing indifferently before recording the variety show, he felt a bit thrilled seeing fans confronting Ran Lin; but now, seeing the same thing, that thrill turned into suffocation.
A suffocating feeling stuck in his chest, making him feel uncomfortable all over.
This wasn’t just because Ran Lin was being criticized too harshly, but also because the latter had moved from a “stranger” to a “familiar” position in his life, from a hollow name and a strange face to a “companion” with whom he had shared experiences, even if it was just in the program. This made him involuntarily imagine Ran Lin’s reactions when he saw those malicious comments.
And once he started imagining, he couldn’t stop. In the end, it was always a young face, smiling while tears dripped down. Both the smile and tears were silent, making the onlooker inexplicably suffocated.
Dream Without Limits, Wang Xi’s office.
“What do you want to eat?”
“Hm?”
“I’m asking what you want to eat—”
“Oh.” Ran Lin lifted his head, finally moving his gaze from the phone screen to Wang Xi’s face. “Anything’s fine.”
Wang Xi, speechless, glanced at Liu Wanwan. “Did you hear? Buy whatever you feel like.”
Liu Wanwan, as if granted amnesty, swiftly left to buy breakfast. Staying another minute in the office would be suffocating for her.
Ran Lin mustered his energy, trying to sit up straight, posing as if ready to listen to a lecture. But after waiting and waiting, Wang Xi still didn’t start speaking.
“Aren’t you… going to scold me?” Ran Lin wasn’t blindly optimistic; it was just that since arriving at Dream Without Limits this morning and seeing Wang Xi, this lady had been calm and collected, unlike her fiery state on the phone last night.
Wang Xi didn’t respond immediately, just quietly looking at him with a complex gaze, encompassing sympathy, distress, anger, and frustration.
“No scolding.” Wang Xi casually lit a cigarette, took a drag, and blew out a ring of smoke. “If no one tells you off, I’ll be the one to wake you up. Now that so many fans are teaching you a lesson, I can’t think of anything new to say.”
Through the smoke, Ran Lin looked at his manager with difficulty. “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me. I saw all those comments this morning. I can handle it. Don’t take it to heart…”
Wang Xi was just brushing her hair when she heard this and paused. “Are you advising me?”
Ran Lin pointed to the slender lady’s cigarette in her hand, half concerned and half guilty. “Otherwise, you’re resorting to smoking to relieve stress.”
Wang Xi’s expression was as if she heard the joke of the century. She paused, then couldn’t help but ruffle Ran Lin’s hair. “Are you clever or foolish? Sometimes you’re incredibly sharp, other times, utterly stupid.”
Ran Lin blushed, realizing he was being presumptuous.
Wang Xi never smokes. Her sudden smoking must mean something serious. If not him, then could it be… Han Ze?
“Alright.” Wang Xi threw the half-smoked cigarette into a disposable cup and seriously instructed, “From now on, don’t post on Weibo, don’t reply, don’t make a sound. Leave everything to me.”
Ran Lin unconsciously leaned back in his chair. “What are you planning to do?”
“What’s there to fear? I can’t exactly use a nuclear bomb to flatten Weibo.” Wang Xi glanced at him, then sighed. “I’ll try to shift the fans’ attention, at least until the second episode airs. Tsk, Lu Yiyao has never had a fight with anyone since his debut, and his fans have been holding back for years. Now, it’s all contributed to you.”
Ran Lin felt embarrassed. According to Wang Xi, he might as well not bother seeing tomorrow’s sun.
Wang Xi stood up and opened the window a bit, just wide enough for a hand.
The nicotine-laden smoke hadn’t dispersed yet, but the cold wind rushed in first, howling in.
“Aren’t you cold?” Wang Xi asked casually, already sitting back down.
“I’m fine.” Ran Lin shook his head and, after a while, added, “You’re facing the window. Don’t stay in the draft too long.”
Wang Xi didn’t speak. She just looked at him sideways for a while, then suddenly said reflectively, “Whoever becomes your wife in the future is in for a treat.”
Ran Lin was startled, guiltily, and yet pretentiously looked at Wang Xi, realizing she didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a joke.
Lowering his eyes in thought for a moment, Ran Lin playfully raised his eyebrows and leaned in to ask, “So, can I date now?”
Wang Xi deadpanned. “Just try and see.”
Ran Lin grinned, showing his first genuine smile since getting up this morning.
Liu Wanwan’s delivery speed was incredibly fast, returning in the blink of an eye with hot buns and soy milk.
Wang Xi glanced at the breakfast with slight disdain. “Can’t you change it up?”
Liu Wanwan, confused, glanced at Ran Lin, who had already taken the plastic bag, and earnestly said to Wang Xi, “I’m a very loyal person.”
Wang Xi rolled her eyes at her but didn’t get angry.
She noticed that once Ran Lin got familiar with someone, those little edges and mischief in his personality would slowly emerge. He might not be aware of it, but those who interact with him could clearly feel it.
However, these traits didn’t make him annoying. Instead, they made him more real and interesting.
Wang Xi’s phone on the table vibrated briefly. She checked it and then told Ran Lin, “Finish eating and go rest. Don’t browse Weibo these next few days and prepare well for the fourth episode. If we can’t turn public opinion around after eight episodes… Well, don’t think about that for now.”
“…” Ran Lin’s mood was complicated.
He hadn’t thought so far ahead, but Wang Xi’s reminder made him lose control of himself.
“Ah, right, Xi Jie.” Ran Lin, already holding the buns at the door, turned back and said uncertainly, “You said earlier you would try to lead other rhythms. What exactly does that mean…”
Wang Xi raised her eyebrows. “What, you want to teach me public relations?”
“How dare I.” Ran Lin gave a bitter smile but still expressed his concern directly. “I just want to know if these rhythms… won’t involve other people, right?”
“What, you’re afraid I’ll blacken others to save you?”
“After all, it’s the quickest way.”
“Then make a list.” Wang Xi pulled a sheet of white paper from the color printer on the table and slapped it down, looking up at him. “I won’t touch anyone on the list.”
Ran Lin unconsciously gripped the door handle, his body pressing against the doorway. “Xi Jie, you really have the aura of a mafia boss’ wife right now… the younger sister kind.”
“…You could be even more awkward.” Wang Xi resisted the urge to throw the paper at him, pondered for a moment, and relented, “Alright, don’t worry. I won’t shift the focus onto others.”
Ran Lin finally relaxed, about to open the door to leave, but then heard Wang Xi add from behind, “But don’t really think that just because you’re filming a show, everyone is your friend. Always be cautious.”
“Mm,” Ran Lin responded softly.
On his way home, Ran Lin received a WeChat message from Xia Xinran. Despite there being a group chat, he sent a private voice message. Without any preamble, as natural as if they were old friends, he said, “You’re attracting too much hate…”
Ran Lin replied with a voice message too. “It’s a special talent.”
As soon as his message was sent, a reply came back; obviously, the other side was on his phone. “Don’t overthink it. That’s how netizens are. They hate you to the skies but love you deeply when they like you.”
Ran Lin: “Yeah, I know. Thanks, ha.”
Xia Xinran: “Don’t. I can’t post on Weibo to support you now since you’re so controversial right now. If I take a stand, it’s like washing away my fans. My agent would kill me. So I can only offer fake comfort like this. If you thank me again, I’ll take it as you’re being sarcastic and blaming me.”
Ran Lin had reached his front door, listening to Xia Xinran’s latest voice message while unlocking the door, only to be amused by his frank “I can’t support you,” he nearly misinserted the key.
Finally entering the hallway, Ran Lin pressed his phone to reply. “Since you can’t support me on Weibo, how about a kiss on WeChat to soothe my wounds?”
Ran Lin just wanted to tease Xia Xinran, who was good-looking and loved to show off.
He even imagined Xia Xinran with black lines on his face and sarcastic reaction.
But the immediate reply wasn’t sarcastic or angry, but instead full of incredible shock. He was sincerely startled. “Damn, don’t scare me. You’re not gay too, are you?”
Ran Lin froze in the hallway, unable to decide whether to deny his sexual orientation first or ask about the “too” in the sentence.
While he hesitated, Xia Xinran actually withdrew the latest voice message.
Ran Lin was dumbfounded, caught in a whirlwind of whether to admit he had heard it or pretend he hadn’t.
Soon, a new voice message arrived. “Just to clarify, I don’t discriminate against gays, but I’m not one. I like girls, preferably the loli body with a mature heart type, hehe.”
Ran Lin sighed, naturally skipping over the sensitive topic. “Such a sleazy laugh doesn’t suit you.”
Ambiguous attitudes can be interpreted in many ways. Ran Lin didn’t know what Xia Xinran thought, but the final message he sent was unrelated. It was about Lu Yiyao. “I observed closely. The wave of hate against you wasn’t led by Lu Yiyao. It’s probably the backlash from your previous CP hype. Of course, that’s just my opinion. Anyway, he must be more careful than me right now, even less likely to speak up for you, so don’t rush to contact him or post on Weibo tagging him.”
Ran Lin wanted to cry. “How stupid do you think I am?”
Xia Xinran confidently responded, “Who knows, maybe your team will give you bad advice.”
If one day Wang Xi and Xia Xinran meet, Ran Lin thought, they might tear each other apart.
Xia Xinran had an appointment to keep, so after a few words, he disappeared.
But it was enough.
His heart was warmed by the buns and soy milk, and now by people.
Ran Lin reopened Weibo and entered the “Chen Sheng and Wu Guang” group, where there were only three messages: one was a shared birthday party photo from Xia Xinran on the day of the third episode filming, and the other two were messages from him and Lu Yiyao saying “Received.”
Lu Yiyao’s avatar was himself, but unlike his current short hair, the avatar featured long flowing hair with slight curls, a distant gaze, and some stubbles, like a street artist.
Lu Yiyao had never taken this style since his debut. The photo must have been taken during his studies in England, but the style was too mature, showing no trace of a student.
Actually, without Xia Xinran saying so, he knew Lu Yiyao couldn’t publicly voice support.
In fact, Lu Yiyao’s “Forget it” had already made him overjoyed.
But that’s how people are: once they have something, they become greedier and less satisfied.
Like now, he really hoped Lu Yiyao would message him on WeChat, even just to ask, “What are you doing?”
However, Lu Yiyao had no obligation to do so, and there wasn’t much friendship between them.
So Ran Lin just daydreamed for a while, then despised himself for being presumptuous.
All morning, Ran Lin watched the news channel, trying to distract himself with domestic and international affairs, and it worked well. He ordered a Hawaiian pizza for lunch, which was sour and sweet, extremely appetizing.
This continued into the afternoon, with the rolling news no longer having any novelty. Accidentally switching to XX Satellite TV, he just happened to catch the preview of the second episode.
The preview was only over fifty seconds long, but even that was fate for Ran Lin.
He didn’t want to fight against fate anymore, and avoiding it was never his style.
What’s the big deal about being mocked and ridiculed? Once he read it, it was over. The more he avoided it, the more he thought about it—that was what truly tormented him.
Turning off the TV, Ran Lin decisively, like defusing a bomb, picked up his phone, unlocked it with his fingerprint, and opened Weibo. All his movements were careful and cautious.
There were many new comments, but nothing new in content.
The top comments still prominently displayed the seven deadly sins. Looking at that screenshot, Ran Lin actually felt a sense of relief.
Nothing new had emerged, and the scolding was the same old routine. After seeing them for a while, he had become numb.
Following the rule of public opinion fermentation, his Weibo comments would be a battlefield for the next few days. Once he accepted this reality, it didn’t seem too hard to bear.
He wondered if the second episode could bring back some favor.
A complete turnaround was unlikely, but it might improve things a bit. After all, he was more natural in the second episode than in the first…
Lost in his messy thoughts, Ran Lin suddenly found himself holding a bright red apple.
He was startled, unable to recall the memory of washing the apple. He was sitting on the sofa, staring at the wet apple, feeling like he had just woken up from sleepwalking.
His phone suddenly started singing.
The young man under the sun~~ Has your dream come true…
That was him when he just debuted—his first time in the recording studio. According to the sound engineer, he hadn’t sung out any sorrow or melancholy, but rather a lot of bright aspirations.
Expecting it to be Wang Xi, but seeing the caller ID, Ran Lin froze. He didn’t know how much time had passed until the word ‘Mom’ turned into 1 missed call before he hurriedly called back.
“What are you doing? Why didn’t you answer the phone?” The other end was noisy, but his mother’s voice stood out clearly.
Ran Lin quickly cleared his throat, making his voice sound energetic. “I’m at the company. I was in the bathroom just now and didn’t hear it.”
“Oh.” His mom didn’t doubt him and excitedly moved to the main topic. “Your dad and I saw you on TV, you little brat. Why didn’t you tell us about the show? If it wasn’t for Uncle Zhao, we wouldn’t have known at all! How can it be that my son is on TV, and others have to tell me?”
That’s how his mother was—never caring about him, she had to speak her mind first.
Ran Lin smiled, waiting for his mom to finish before saying. “I was wrong, I’ll definitely inform you and dad in advance next time, okay?”
“Too late!” Mom sniffed. “They’ve already announced it on TV, next week, same time. You don’t need to tell me!”
Ran Lin laughed. “Yeah, yeah, you know everything. You’re so amazing.”
“Son.” His mom suddenly changed the topic, her voice no longer exuberant. “Why do you look thinner on TV? Haven’t you been eating well lately? Don’t go on diets like those female stars. You’re fine as you are—you’re the most handsome… er, one of the most handsome ones there!”
“Mom—” Ran Lin surrendered. “Can’t you just compliment me sincerely for once?”
“I don’t want you to slack off. Look at all the pretty people on TV. Why is this one the main character and that one a supporting role? The effort behind it all is different.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Don’t just ‘yeah’. Take it to heart.”
“I know…”
“Do you have enough money?” His mom’s topic jumped unpredictably.
Ran Lin held his forehead. “You’ve seen me on TV, what do you think? Wait for your son to earn big money.”
“You’ve been saying that for two years.”
“…”
Typical mom.
“Ah right, your dad’s old phone broke. He finally agreed to get a smartphone. Someone told him something about being able to find you online, see what you’re doing every day. I said it was WeChat, but your dad didn’t believe me. What else could it be…”
His mom learned WeChat when Ran Lin taught her during the New Year, but apart from WeChat, that smartphone hadn’t been used for anything else.
Ran Lin wanted to teach her to use Weibo the next time he went home, but now his dad had been prematurely informed by someone else, he didn’t dare to do so.
“It’s WeChat.” Ran Lin took a deep breath, suppressing the warmth in his eyes.
“I knew it… Wait until he comes back…”
“Dad went out?”
“Yeah, Uncle Zhao called him out for a drink again, in broad daylight. Luckily, the store isn’t busy today. Imagine if it gets busy, how I’d deal with him.”
Ran Lin wanted to say, “If it’s too tiring, don’t do it,” but he didn’t have the confidence to say that.
This reality show was almost a giveaway for the company, with low payment and the agency taking seventy percent. What he got wasn’t much, and he hadn’t had any work for a long time. His own life was tight, let alone taking care of his parents.
“Why aren’t you speaking?” His mom, quick and impatient, immediately asked when she didn’t hear her son’s voice.
Ran Lin sniffed and said, “I want to eat buns.”
His mom thought something was wrong. “Then buy some. Doesn’t Beijing have bun shops?”
“I want the ones from our store.” Ran Lin rarely acted like a child, his voice unconsciously carrying a hint of his hometown accent.
His mom laughed heartily. “Wait till you come back for the New Year. You can sit in the back kitchen of our bun shop and eat them as they come out of the oven. I’ll stuff you!”
Ran Lin laughed out loud, suddenly feeling his face wet. He hurriedly found an excuse to hang up the phone.
Lost, he glanced at the apple in his hand and quickly took a big bite.
Yeah, he’s fine; he can hold on. He’s optimistic. The next shoot would be in Shanghai. He was willing to bet his orientation they would be spending it at Disney…
Ugh, this apple isn’t good—both salty and astringent.
Half an hour in advance, Ran Lin turned on the TV to XX Satellite TV and was grateful that the company, while providing wireless internet, had also kept the set-top box in this dormitory.
Ten minutes before the program aired, Wang Xi called to remind him to watch, saying she would also be watching on her end, ready to communicate by phone at any moment.
Already nervous, Ran Lin found that this call from Wang Xi only added to his restlessness, prompting him to get up for a glass of water to calm down a bit.
He had barely resettled on the sofa when the program started on time.
“…It’s said that Guilin’s landscape tops the world. In the next two days, this will be the main battlefield for <National First Love Drifting Story>. But let’s go back to the night before and see how our male gods prepared…”
Ran Lin had imagined many final versions of the program but still found himself surprised by the post-production team’s magical transformation.
For instance, the opening scene where he knocked on Lu Yiyao’s hotel room only to be told by the assistant that Lu Yiyao was already asleep, which had been awkward for him on the spot, was now amusing with playful subtitles and a cartoon image of Lu Yiyao sound asleep, lessening the embarrassment.
The leisurely river, the elegant mountains, the magnificent caves… The two days of filming were condensed into a ninety-minute episode, picking up pace suddenly. The dry segments in his memory were now much smoother.
The screen time was fairly divided among the five, with Lu Yiyao and Xia Xinran getting slightly more. The former for his popularity, and the latter for his interesting points. At first, Ran Lin was as embarrassed as his on-screen persona, but as the show progressed, he grew accustomed and found much joy in watching.
Some segments were familiar to Ran Lin, while others were challenges faced by others, new to him.
For the segments he experienced, watching his on-screen self brought back memories. However, occasionally, the mood was at odds with the post-production subtitles, which were more humorous and engaging, offering him a different perspective of fun.
Like the scene where he and Lu Yiyao were fighting for a badge, which was intense in reality, but the program used slow-motion and an English love song as background music, humorously breaking the immersion.
Through the lens, Ran Lin realized he and Lu Yiyao strangely synced in their “involvement”. They fought fiercely over a badge, and when they agreed to put it on the ground, it was like a tense standoff between police and kidnappers.
Unfortunately, Xia Xinran’s appearance completely ruined the mood.
Then, when Gu Jie sneak-attacked and won the 5+ badge and Xia Xinran roared childishly, the program cleverly inserted a children’s song BGM, creating a hilarious “comedy effect” that made viewers burst into laughter.
The solo mission segments were even more interesting, like the solo bamboo raft journey after their Guanyan adventure—the quick Q&A with a chance to win a motor.
Ran Lin knew Xia Xinran and Lu Yiyao failed this segment but didn’t know the specifics until now.
Xia Xinran, sweating profusely from rowing, was asked to do a rapid Q&A by the crew member on the boat:
“What’s your favorite color… Green!”
“Your favorite food… Baked rice!”
“Type of man you hate the most… Manipulative!”
“Type of woman you hate the most… None, all little angels!”
“Which male artist in the mainland entertainment industry do you admire the most… Pass!”
“Which female artist in the mainland entertainment industry do you admire the most… Pass!”
“Which actress do you want to work with the most, Wen Qiao, Wang Xinyu, Ai Na, Yu Bingqiu… Damn!”
Before the time was up, Xia Xinran had already given up. But the effect wasn’t the awkwardness of an angry artist but rather Xia Xinran’s suffering and childish pouting. Especially the “Damn”, clearly visible from his mouth, but the actual sound was a sharp “beep”, doubling the comedic effect.
In contrast, Lu Yiyao’s segment wasn’t as dramatic. He seemed aware of the pitfalls and controlled his speed, answering four of six questions:
“Your favorite color… Blue.”
“Your favorite food… Sandwiches.”
“Which mainland artist do you admire the most… Pass.”
“The mainland artist you… Pass.”
“What do you admire most about Ran Lin… His persistence.”
“Your biggest dream… Uh, being… recognized.”
“Your first love was…”
“Time’s up!”
When the crew called time, Ran Lin swore he saw a flicker of triumph in Lu Yiyao’s eyes. He was purposely avoiding giving the program what they wanted. But he seemed to forget that the pitfalls came with rewards, so when the bamboo pole was handed back to him, his brief daze was adorably cute. As he put the pole back into the water, his expression was resigned yet despairing.
Ran Lin couldn’t help but laugh. He had never seen Lu Yiyao so sullen, always maintaining a righteous young man’s demeanor despite the challenges and hardships, enduring through gritted teeth.
When he couldn’t bear it anymore, he’d hit back, like the loving bowl of rice noodles he poisoned late at night.
But after enjoying Lu Yiyao’s moment, Ran Lin sank back into the sofa, sighing deeply.
What do you admire most about Ran Lin?
His persistence.
Indeed, it was a trap set by the program, but Lu Yiyao’s earnest answer was merciless.
Through the screen, he could feel the full extent of the mockery, instantly pulling him back to the fatal embarrassment of the first episode. If only they could broadcast three episodes in one go, since they were now, after all, on somewhat friendly terms… Alas, the time difference was indeed a tormenting thing.
In the first episode, Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin were still awkwardly sharing the screen. Rolling around on the sofa, Ran Lin eventually buried his head in a pillow, as if doing so could make the embarrassment and time pass more quickly.
However, thinking back under the pillow, Ran Lin belatedly pondered over Lu Yiyao’s “biggest dream of being recognized”, feeling like it was missing an object. Recognized by whom? The fans? The audience? The market?
“The young man under the sun~~ Has your dream come true~~ In this cold world~~ Have you changed~”
As the program neared its end, his phone rang. Ran Lin sprang up from the sofa, hurriedly grabbed the phone from the coffee table, and answered.
“Xi Jie.” The call came just a few minutes before the program ended, which didn’t bode well for Ran Lin.
As expected, Wang Xi got straight to the point without any cushioning. “How do you manage to find a point of criticism every few minutes? Who asked you to knock on Lu Yiyao’s hotel door? Aren’t you clever? How can you be so awkward in front of the camera?”
Wang Xi’s anger was palpable. She didn’t need answers; she just wanted to vent. Just listening made Ran Lin almost unable to cope.
After her tirade, Wang Xi felt somewhat better but still sounded harsh. “I told you on the first night, you don’t need to overthink. Just be yourself. Do you realize how forced and overdone your deliberate cuteness and pandering to the audience look on camera?”
“…” Ran Lin was utterly baffled and didn’t know how to respond.
“Never mind.” Wang Xi, realizing her impulsiveness and Ran Lin’s state, said stiffly, “Come to the company tomorrow morning. We’ll talk in detail then.”
Ran Lin finally found an opportunity to speak. “Uh, what time?”
His question reignited the barely suppressed fire in Wang Xi. “The earlier, the better!”
Hearing the dial tone, Ran Lin’s mind went blank, taking a long time to recover.
He had no recollection of the last few minutes of the program, only realizing the advertisements had already started playing. He turned off the TV, hesitated for a moment, but still opened Weibo on his phone.
After returning from the filming of the third episode, except for a promotional post for the first broadcast this morning, he had controlled himself from checking Weibo, knowing the production team was still releasing snippets to stir up hype, allowing fans to argue over a few seconds of footage.
He didn’t have many fans. Usually he was the one being criticized.
But now that the program had aired, despite being scolded by Wang Xi and knowing his performance wasn’t entirely satisfactory, he still wanted to see the audience and fans’ reactions.
[681 new comments, view comments]
[3,920 new followers, view followers]
[1,754 @mentions, view @mentions]
The numbers on the homepage startled Ran Lin. He hadn’t checked Weibo in two days, but he had opened all new messages when he posted the promotional tweet that morning. Though he quickly returned to the homepage without looking closely due to constant ridicule in recent days, he was certain that all the new data had accumulated since that morning.
For a popular star, tens of thousands of comments on a single Weibo post are common, sometimes even reaching over a hundred thousand. For Ran Lin, breaking three digits without fake or zombie followers*, was rare.
*Inactive fans, often times usually fake accounts or bots to inflate the person’s follower count.
He first checked his @mentions. Most were retweets of the program’s premiere announcement by the production team, who had @mentioned him, leading fans to secondarily @mention him too.
Next were the followers; clicking in, he saw lively profiles, none resembling fake fans, which moved Ran Lin.
Finally, he checked the comments, which he now approached with trepidation.
Taking a deep breath, he lightly tapped the screen…
Angry Nani Sauce: [A bit awkward at first, but it got better later. Keep it up! ❤️]
Chasing Wind Girl007: [You and God Lu match well, hahahaha.]
Pikipiki: [Road to fan~~ I love your youthful face—yeah, just that shallow. 🐶]
Surprised, Ran Lin sat up properly and began scrolling through the comments earnestly. The top third were mostly new fans who had just watched the show and replied to his latest promotional tweet. Amidst some ridicule and haters, most comments were positive and encouraging.
Scrolling down, the middle third were messages from earlier in the day, also in response to the same tweet, but the content varied widely.
The positive trend was already lifting his spirits.
Maybe the audience wasn’t as harsh as Wang Xi thought.
Exiting the comments, Ran Lin returned to his Weibo homepage and reopened his top promotional tweet. The top comment in the hottest comments section, which he had already seen, read:
Lin’s Little Ran Mian: [From today, I’ll be a bowl of Burning Noodles*, fanning you, loving you, supporting you silently. From today, I’ll care about variety shows and your works. I have an idol; when he smiles, spring blooms.]
*Clarity: Remember, Ran Mian = Burning Noodles, which is a play on his name and what he wants his fandom to associate with him.
Ran Lin put down his phone and curled up with the pillow on the sofa.
This was his second time rolling on the sofa that night—the first out of embarrassment, the second out of happiness.
Late into the night, the program’s reputation began to ferment slowly. Pure program fans mostly flocked to the production team’s Weibo or analyzed on their homepages on why the first episode was so awkwardly bland. Fans who had finished adoring their idols on screen gradually calmed down, replaying the TV broadcast, even going for second, third, or fourth viewings, analyzing hidden messages in a seemingly harmonious episode.
Program fans only discussed the program, mostly criticizing the production team and planners.
Fans also talked about the program, but as the conversation progressed, some began to argue.
Initially, it was just a handful of fans raising questions.
Then, more and more fans, armed with “speculation + analysis + judgment + emotions”, started flooding Ran Lin’s Weibo, the production team’s Weibo, or posting on their own homepages.
The so-called fan wars require equal strength among fans to really take off. In Ran Lin’s case, as someone who just gained a few thousand followers, it was more of a one-sided diss.
The storm surged in an instant, and the hot comments changed their focus. The screen, which was once filled with warm comments, was now dominated by Lu Yiyao’s fans.
However, Ran Lin was unaware of all this. After scrolling through the comments for a while, his heart, which had been stifled by Wang Xi’s scolding, was completely healed. He went to bed with a rare sense of joy and slept deeply, without any dreams.
The next morning, when Ran Lin went to meet Wang Xi at Dream Without Limits, Lu Yiyao had already started his day.
He was invited to shoot a cover for a renowned fashion magazine. Lu Yiyao had done several covers, but only a few were prestigious. Like today’s, it was said to be an invitation, but in reality, it was an opportunity secured by his management team after long negotiations.
In the current entertainment industry, one has to compete in popularity, fans, works, and even fashion resources. Some have great works, high popularity, and numerous fans but can’t unlock the “Top Five Magazines”—the five top fashion magazines in China. If you haven’t, you’re still not considered high-status in the industry.
Among those who have been featured in these magazines, people compare who’s on the first cover, who’s inside the cover, who collected all five covers, and who’s still on the journey to gather the “five dragon balls”.
The entertainment industry is like an endless river where everyone rows against the current. If you don’t fight hard, the audience will forget you tomorrow. If you do, you can never let your guard down. Even those so-called top stars will be abandoned by the times and become legends with fame but no influence if they don’t keep pushing forward.
When Lu Yiyao entered the industry, he just wanted to see how far he could go. But now, without having achieved a brilliant career, he had already seen through this siege. Here, some seek fame, some profit, some the pursuit of art. What about him? What is he seeking?
“Call him again and tell him if he doesn’t come now, he doesn’t need to bother coming at all!” The door of the dressing room burst open, and the magazine’s editor-in-chief, dressed in a luxury brand’s new spring suit, stormed in, hanging up the phone, and said to Lu Yiyao and Yao Hong, “We’ll wait another half hour, and if he doesn’t show, we’ll switch to a solo cover.”
A solo cover is much higher in status than a duo cover. Given the choice, Yao Hong would obviously choose the former for Lu Yiyao. But the late celebrity had a major sponsor backing him, so the editor-in-chief was unlikely to actually replace him just because she was momentarily upset. So, Yao Hong just listened to her vent and then tried to pacify her.
“It must be traffic. These days, there’s no smooth driving.” Yao Hong always spoke softly, soothingly.
The editor-in-chief calmed down a bit, but her frown didn’t ease. “If he knew there was traffic, he should have left earlier. So many people are waiting for him. It’s like he’s forgotten his own name after being pampered by fans.”
Yao Hong just smiled and didn’t continue the topic.
After venting, the editor-in-chief felt better and, seeing Lu Yiyao didn’t seem upset, offered some token comfort before leaving the room.
Left in the dressing room were Lu Yiyao, already made up, his agent Yao Hong, and an assistant.
“She was scolding for your benefit,” Yao Hong remarked, looking at the closed door.
Lu Yiyao didn’t look up. “I know.”
Yao Hong was surprised. Lu Yiyao could endure and control himself, but he was definitely not someone with a good temper. Usually, in such situations, he might not speak out, but he would definitely have mentally criticized the other party. But now, Lu Yiyao truly didn’t care. In fact, when the editor came in, he only responded perfunctorily. Yao Hong could tell that his attention was mostly locked on the phone he had been playing with since makeup.
“No way to remedy the awkwardness now.” Yao Hong sighed. “Just hope the next few episodes have highlights and can reverse the negative reception.”
Lu Yiyao continued scrolling through comments nonchalantly.
Yao Hong felt uncertain and asked directly, “What about the second and third episodes?” They weren’t allowed to follow the filming, and with no spoilers allowed for spontaneous performances, what seemed like a unique feature during signing now felt like a pitfall.
Lu Yiyao finally stopped scrolling, thought for a moment, and said, “It should be better than the first episode.”
Yao Hong didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “That’s a pretty low bar.”
But that’s all they could hope for now. With so many variety shows featuring fresh young talent and big stars, the audience was getting tired. Unless there was truly amazing planning, powerful post-production, and exceptional performances by the stars, replicating the explosive popularity of the past few years would be difficult.
“Rest if you’re tired. Don’t keep staring at your phone.” Yao Hong leaned back on the sofa, stopping the chatter. Otherwise, she would feel annoyed even if Lu Yiyao wasn’t bothered.
Lu Yiyao nodded, seemingly obedient, but after Yao Hong closed her eyes to rest, he couldn’t help but pick up his phone again and continue reading comments.
Lu Yiyao found his own behavior strange.
First, he wasn’t someone who cared much about comments. Everyone has their own personality, logic, and way of thinking. The same thing can be viewed in a hundred different ways. If he lived by others’ opinions, he wouldn’t have a peaceful life. So he occasionally read comments just to see the cute “little angel” fans as they placed a lot of beautiful emotions on him. Fortunately, he hadn’t encountered any significant backlash since his debut. As Yao Hong said, everything was smooth sailing.
Second, he wasn’t even scrolling through his own Weibo comments.
In Lu Yiyao’s Weibo, it’s all warmth and peace, with comments like “I love you. You’re so handsome. My God Lu turns out to be directionally challenged, haha.” Just a few minutes of scrolling, and he could fully absorb all these emotions.
But another person’s Weibo was a world of ice and fire.
[Hope Ran Lin quits <National First Love Drifting Story>. Thumbs up if you agree.] (2,478 likes)
[I’m not targeting anyone, but all those anything that comes with free wheat bran* is trash.] (1,963 likes)
*It’s a saying which implies that if something is being given away for free or with an added bonus, it might be low quality or undesirable.
[Not to be harsh, but your performance really wasn’t good. Saying you’re not a nepotism hire, no one would believe. 😊] (1,705 likes)
[Take God Lu away. We don’t mix. Focused on our own. Refuse to fan wars. ❤️] (1,529 likes)
……
Ran Lin’s second-to-last Weibo post had only a few hundred replies, but the latest one was nearing ten thousand.
There were his fans, other’s fans, and the show’s fans, but no matter whose fans, they found a common goal here—asking Ran Lin to leave <National First Love Drifting Story>.
The hottest comment, with over five thousand likes, was a long Weibo screenshot, which Lu Yiyao had already seen several times but couldn’t help returning to study again.
The poster had meticulously listed Ran Lin’s seven sins:
#1: During the recording of the theme song, he released a widespread article saying he hit it off with Zhang Beichen, but in the program, their first interaction in the hotel room was polite and awkward, contradicting his statement.
#2 Before the show aired, he tried to tie himself to Lu Yiyao to hype a male-male CP. After Lu Yiyao’s initial mistaken retweet at the airport, there was no further response. Yet, in the program, he eagerly knocked on Lu Yiyao’s hotel door, only to be directly rejected by the assistant—a powerful face-slap.
#3 At 6 minutes and 35 seconds, after being rejected by Lu Yiyao, he said to the camera, “I can only see my idol tomorrow. I’m so sad” in an overdone manner.
#4 At 38 minutes and 27 seconds, during the rapid Q&A, when asked what he admired most about Lu Yiyao, he answered, “His accomplishments.” This was the most shameless Q&A I’ve ever seen. Just because Lu Yiyao has accomplishments doesn’t mean you can shamelessly ride his coattail.
#5 At 45 minutes and 17 seconds, he asked Zhang Beichen to let him be the first, which was a misleading edit by the production team. But joking with someone he’s not very familiar with, leading to misunderstandings, is Ran Lin’s fault.
#6 At 63 minutes, when Lu Yiyao brought midnight rice noodles, everyone was in their true state without defenses. Ran Lin’s bare face wasn’t flattering; apart from looking young, there was no charm or highlight. Personally, I wouldn’t choose someone like that for my first love.
#7 At 81 minutes, when Lu Yiyao accidentally drank bitter gourd juice, Ran Lin diligently offered water. But wasn’t it you who, along with others, decided to give Lu Yiyao extra spicy rice noodles and laughed happily? Hypocritical and disgusting.
In summary, please take your white shirt and go back to school and leave the show a blue sky! 👋
Lu Yiyao stared at the screenshot he had opened to full screen, feeling as though he wasn’t looking at a phone screen but rather a judgment document.
As he continued to look, he fell into an unreal trance, as if what was said in the screenshot and the show he had participated in weren’t the same at all.
The scream stirred the entire economy class into a commotion. Four flight attendants, two men and two women, who were preparing meals at the tail end of the plane, immediately stopped their work and quickly walked down the aisle toward the “scene of the incident”, reminding passengers left and right, “Please stay seated in your own seats and fasten your seat belts.”
They tried hard to make their voices sound calm and firm, but they couldn’t hide the underlying fear and trembling.
The passengers complied, and the noise gradually subsided, soon reaching the other extreme—the entire cabin fell into a suffocating silence.
No longer just watching, Xu Wang stood up and raised his legs, striding over Ms. Mu Nine Eight’s legs, and jogged to the wing area. But he couldn’t see anything because of the four flight attendants blocking the way. He had to crane his neck and ask Qian Ai, who was sitting closer, “What’s happening?”
Qian Ai was seated next to the screamer, so he had a clearer view than the flight attendants and immediately provided information. “It’s a time bomb with a password, taped under the window with duct tape, and the countdown is at 3 hours 58 minutes!”
Xu Wang felt a shiver run down his spine, and before his brain could process, he blurted out, “Move aside, move aside. I can defuse a bomb!”
The flight attendants quickly moved aside, and even the passengers seated in the aisle stood up to give way to Xu Wang.
“You too, come out!” Xu Wang pointed to the passenger sitting by the window who was the first to discover the bomb and screamed.
The passenger was more than eager to move, immediately scurrying out. Without another word, Xu Wang squeezed in to join Qian Ai in a close circle around the bomb, almost touching their noses to it.
It was a black box, taped to the bottom near the window with duct tape in the shape of a cross. The tape was wide and shone with a cold light, like silver foil.
The countdown wasn’t on the black box but on the horizontal silver foil, displaying blood-red numbers, steadily decreasing to 3:57:08. The vertical silver foil was covered by the horizontal one, dividing it into two parts: the upper part was a display screen with four blank spaces “_ _ _ _”, and the lower part had numbers 1–9 and letters A–Z arranged in a 5×7 grid.
The “please enter” implication couldn’t be more obvious. No wonder Qian Ai immediately said it was password-protected.
“When did you learn to defuse bombs?” came a familiar voice filled with mockery. Without turning around, Xu Wang knew it was the first-class passenger.
“I was lying about defusing bombs, but your bad omen is real,” he retorted without looking back. “Thanks to your good luck, we’re really going to be blown up!”
“Don’t panic. If it’s a challenge, there must be a way to solve it.” Wu Sheng squeezed in too, making the tight space even more “intimate”.
Xu Wang tried to ignore Wu Sheng’s presence and focused entirely on “observing” the dangerous object, while Wu Sheng didn’t have to work so hard; he was naturally focused when facing tough problems.
“35 choices for 4 digits,” Wu Sheng said after a glance. “If the four digits can’t repeat, there are 1,256,640 possible passwords. If they can repeat, there’s an additional 243,985 possibilities.”
His tone was calm and assured, and even listening to him, one could feel the glow of intelligence.
Xu Wang, putting aside “old grudges”, turned around excitedly. “Can you crack it?”
“How can I?” Wu Sheng shrugged righteously. “With over a million combinations, even if I tried them one by one, there wouldn’t be enough time, and even if there was, my fingers would wear out.”
“……” He must be blind for liking this guy!!!
Kuang Jinxin was the last to come over. With no more space left in the row, he had to stand in the aisle next to Wu Sheng, struggling with a flight attendant trying to pull him away while straining to listen to his teammates’ discussion, fearing missing a single word that might affect their coordination. After listening for a while, he realized that all three were circling around “cracking the password”, an academically high-end approach, and couldn’t help but lean in after pushing a flight attendant aside. “According to the [Cheat Sheet], shouldn’t we be asking the passengers?”
The teammates, who were about to break their heads thinking, all turned to look at him puzzled. “[Cheat Sheet]?”
“Yes.” Kuang Jinxin never considered himself the smart one. “A diligent mouth can bring out the golden steed. Doesn’t that mean we should ask more questions?”
“Wait a second, it seems our information isn’t quite symmetrical,” Xu Wang said, pulling Kuang Jinxin’s arm over to check the [Cheat Sheet].
Indeed, at the end of a series of boarding prompts, there was an additional message that the other three didn’t have—[ A diligent mouth can bring out the golden steed].
Kuang Jinxin realized something when he saw his teammates’ expressions. “You didn’t receive it?”
“What have you been doing just now?” Wu Sheng skipped the time-wasting questions and got straight to the point.
Kuang Jinxin looked confused and plunged into endless contemplation. With the teammates occupied with thinking, Qian Ai was left to listen in. But his sharp eyes caught a flight attendant trying to pull Kuang Jinxin away again. He immediately sprang up, supporting himself on the back of the seats, and leaped over Wu Sheng and Xu Wang’s heads, landing firmly in the aisle. He grabbed the flight attendant’s neck. “Hey man, try me if you’re tough. Don’t bully the kid!”
His dominance and fierceness were a stark contrast to the person who was behind the locked door not long ago!
Perhaps inspired by his teammate’s robust support, Kuang Jinxin finally caught a clue amidst his chaotic thoughts. “I talked to my neighbor! After a dozen sentences or so, the [Cheat Sheet] rang, and I looked at it and continued chatting more enthusiastically. If it weren’t for the scream, I could have continued to find out everything about them—from their origins to their jobs and social connections!”
That’s it!
In the first challenge, Xu Wang lost his shoes, so [(Defense) My Skate Shoes] was given to him; this time, the only one who genuinely talked to “passengers” was Kuang Jinxin—Xu Wang had asked for names and then quickly dismissed further conversation—so the special [Cheat Sheet] prompt was given to him.
Everything was unpredictable in advance but retrospectively traceable.
Xu Wang looked at Wu Sheng, not with a question but with certainty. “The person who knows the password is among the passengers.”
Wu Sheng nodded, his eyes intense. “If we ask the right questions, we can pass this level.”
Xu Wang pursed his lips, suddenly hesitating. “Is it really that simple?”
Who doesn’t know how to chat? Just by asking around, we can pass the level?
“You’re just overthinking and doing too little.” Wu Sheng stood up, stretching his shoulders. “In the time you’re wondering, we could have questioned several people already.” He scanned the area and then divided the tasks. “I’ll go to the first class, Xiao Kuang to the business class, and you and Lao Qian stay in the economy class. One of you asks from front to back, the other from back to front, to maximize efficiency.”
“Got it!” Qian Ai responded almost reflexively, then, after a moment of reflection, he added, “Class Monitor’s heroic demeanor hasn’t diminished over the years.”
“Even if you flatter me now, you won’t get any test papers to copy,” Xu Wang retorted irritably, then stood up to address the four flight attendants. “We can solve the crisis. We don’t need your help, but we also don’t want you to interfere. Otherwise, if it blows up, no one can escape.”
His usually smiling face became stern, which was all the more intimidating.
“Continue serving water and food as you would. Try to calm the passengers and leave the rest to us.”
The two flight attendants nodded continuously. After Xu Wang finished speaking, one immediately turned to fetch the beverage cart, and the other began to softly reassure the nearby passengers.
The two male attendants were more cautious and didn’t move.
Xu Wang fixed his gaze on the one struggling with Qian Ai, and after a moment, the attendant loosened his grip, signaling a truce.
Qian Ai also relaxed his vice-like grip, dusting off his clothes, all the while exuding an air of a master fighter.
Xu Wang was a bit baffled. “You’re capable of this, so why were you so timid when we knocked on the door earlier and even used your chain lock?”
“I didn’t know how many people were outside the door. Of course, safety first!” Qian Ai said, glancing at the two male attendants with a satisfied smile. “You have to make sure you can take on whoever you’re up against.”
“……” Stripping away the veneer of high-flown rhetoric, wasn’t this just bullying the weak and fearing the strong!!!
Wu Sheng glanced at the bomb’s countdown, about to remind the other two to stop with their nonsense and start acting, but suddenly felt a shadow overhead.
Instinctively, he looked up to see a large net descending out of nowhere!
The four of them hadn’t yet split up, and they had no chance to react against the swiftly descending net. The dense net seemed to have some kind of magic power, passing through seats and everything else, aiming only for them.
In an instant, the net fell and then scooped up, capturing all four and lifting them into mid-air!
“What the hell is this!” Qian Ai struggled within the net; even his tall 1.9-meter frame was futile against it.
“Hey, don’t kick me!” Kuang Jinxin, already disoriented from being scooped up, got kicked by the struggling Qian Ai, adding to his disarray.
Xu Wang and Wu Sheng weren’t faring any better.
The four were like fish in a net. No matter how much they thrashed, they couldn’t escape.
A familiar mocking voice rang in their ears at the same time—
[Owl: Someone used ([Offense] One Fell Swoop*] on you~~]
*Capturing all in one net (一网打尽) Idiom referring to an action or event that achieves or accomplishes many results.
The four froze, and before they could react, the net suddenly swung forward, like a plastic bag being thrown along the aisle toward the tail of the plane at breakneck speed!
The flight attendants at the tail, preparing the meal cart, were terrified and instinctively dodged to the sides!
Qian Ai: “I don’t want to dieeeeee—”
Kuang Jinxin: “Shouldn’t the riddles be progressive in difficulty, from guessing idioms to matching poetry lines*?”
*He’s referring to [Fei Hua Ling] (飞花令). It’s a popular game among poets and scholars where one participant throws out a phrase or a topic and the other participants must respond with a poem or phrase that matches the given theme in terms of rhyme, word count, and often must contain a specific word.
Wu Sheng: “Close your eyes, hold your breath, and prepare for a high-altitude fall or water entry. You probably won’t die.”
Qian Ai: “Really?!”
Wu Sheng: “Just a guess.”
Kuang Jinxin: “……”
Qian Ai: “Help—”
Qian Ai’s last long wail served as a tragic soundtrack for the net’s collision with the metal wall.
It was also at this last moment that Xu Wang, who had been looking back ever since the net took off, finally caught sight of four unusual faces.
They were scattered among the passengers, blending in with the unknowing travelers, all standing up to look at the “mysterious net.”
If it wasn’t for Xu Wang’s initial intention to “catch someone”, they might have remained unnoticed until the end.
All the passengers were screaming and panicking, but only a few had subtle expressions and shifty eyes, betraying their guilt and revealing a slight nervousness as they awaited the outcome.
The moment the net hit the tail, all four felt an immense impact, as if every bone in their bodies was shattered. The pain was soul-crushing.
Suddenly, the world went quiet.
The temperature plummeted, cold to the bone, and the air thinned.
Pain raged through their bodies, but they could only grab the net’s openings and gasp for breath.
As if thinking they weren’t miserable enough, the mocking voice reminded them again—
[Owl: Someone used [(Offense) Beyond the Nine Heavens*] on you~~]
*(九霄云外) Idiom referring to a distant place so far away there’s no trace (AKA out of this world).
Wu Sheng was the first to open his eyes, enduring the intense pain and bitter cold, looking around.
They were still in the net, but no longer inside the plane. The net hung like a ball thousands of feet high in the air; below were thick clouds, and above was the glaring sun.
Why could they see Qian Ai without being in a team?
Wu Sheng finally found the answer.
They were caught in one fell swoop.
They were thrown beyond the nine heavens.
They thought it was a level to pass, but in reality, it was a battlefield.
Kinky Translations 