“Finally saw me?” Qian Ai gritted his teeth, staring at his two old classmates as he asked, with his voice rising subtly, “Weren’t you supposed to be taking your little cousin on a trip?”
Xu Wang quickly pulled Kuang Jinxin over. “My cousin!”
Wu Sheng, not to be outdone, raised an eyebrow in retort. “Weren’t you supposed to be eating your way across China?”
Qian Ai pulled out a roujiamo from his pocket and took a big bite, chewing furiously and grumbling. “These days, you can’t even trust old classmates!”
Kuang Jinxin, completely baffled, looked from Qian Ai to Wu Sheng and Xu Wang, struggling to make sense of the situation amidst the aroma of the roujiamo. “Is this…a new team?”
After a brief exchange, they managed to share their “sorrowful” stories.
Xu Wang, Wu Sheng, and Kuang Jinxin had come straight here after their 1/23 submission. In comparison, Qian Ai had it worse, being the only one in his team wanting to come here. He had to leave his group and couldn’t form a new one here, so he’d been wandering around every day, leaving at five in the morning, for three days now.
As the saying goes, cherish the thread of fate that’s linked by the call of the Owl*.
*This is a play on the buzzword saying: Cherish this fate with the help of the internet (网络一线牵珍惜这段缘). It’s a common expression between netizens used to express friendship (basically, the internet brought us together, so let’s cherish that fate). In this case, rather than the internet, it’s the Owl.
Though shocked at first, they felt a tinge of excitement at reuniting—better to join the familiar than let the opportunity pass to strangers. This time, the list for additional members only had three names, still prefixed with 1/23. Excluding Qian Ai, none of the remaining two were familiar to Xu Wang, Wu Sheng, or Kuang Jinxin. Even the names they had seen the night before, including Sun Jiang, were gone.
Qian Ai, having spent three extra days here, had figured out more patterns. “Adding members probably only works with people in the same coordinate range. Like if you’re in Beijing, you can only invite those also in Beijing. Here, you can only invite those also here. Otherwise, how can a team scattered in different places pass the challenge together?”
This made sense, hence the different names on the lists on consecutive nights.
Qian Ai joined the team but felt conflicted. “Is this damn place only haunting our class?”
Xu Wang empathized deeply. To think, old classmates scattered across the world struggling to make a living, now reunited in a magical and uncertain ordeal—it was enough to bring tears to those who knew them, especially their old high school teacher.
Unlike them, Wu Sheng was less sentimental and more observant, scouting for potential dangers or clues. However, his search turned up nothing but new questions—when they parted ways with Sun Jiang on the snowfield, he disappeared immediately, but when they met Qian Ai, he hadn’t teamed up with them yet. This was a seemingly stark contradiction.
Kuang Jinxin’s sudden exclamation broke Wu Sheng’s train of thought. “I remember now! Why does that name sound so familiar!” He eagerly sought confirmation from Wu Sheng and Xu Wang. “Wu Ge, Xu Ge, he’s the Qian Ai you mentioned while guessing idioms on the snowfield, right? The one who can inhale food like a gale!”
As Qian Ai listened, his eyes narrowed until, facing his old classmates, they were sharp slits. “Old friends, care to explain?”
Wu Sheng nonchalantly spread his hands. “We were just stating the facts… Mmph…”
Xu Wang covered his mouth, ruining the team’s mood, and offered Qian Ai a smile of solidarity. “It’s a long story…”
As they were mending their friendship, a “four-in-one” ding suddenly tensed the atmosphere.
Everyone checked their arms. [Cheat Sheet] — [Passenger Kuang Jinxin, Passenger Qian Ai, Passenger Wu Sheng, Passenger Xu Wang, please proceed to counter G4 for check-in as soon as possible.]
Xu Wang, Wu Sheng, and Kuang Jinxin’s first instinct was to look at Qian Ai, who was bewildered. “Don’t look at me. I’ve never successfully formed a team before. I just stand here foolishly each time I enter. Today’s the first time I’ve received this message.”
Clearly, the Owl only provided new instructions once a team was complete. And now, 2/23 officially began.
Despite no change in their surroundings, a sudden tension gripped everyone.
G4 wasn’t far ahead. It was manned by a handsome guy at the counter but was devoid of any passengers. As the four approached, he efficiently printed out four boarding passes and tossed them onto the counter without looking up. “Go through security. Board at Gate 17. You’re running late.”
His voice was low and eerily magnetic.
Xu Wang wanted to chat more, but the guy suddenly put up a “Temporarily Closed” sign and left without looking back, disappearing behind the luggage conveyor like a ghost. Xu Wang, staring at the empty counter, felt a chill. “Is he… even real?”
“Don’t know, but if you chat with him, he can answer anything.” Qian Ai shared, having nearly chatted up with all the ground staff in his three days, “But as soon as you mention this place is fake, an unreal world, they either don’t understand or look at you like you’re insane.”
“NPCs,” Kuang Jinxin suddenly murmured, breaking his usual silence. “Like NPCs in a game.”
“That’s not quite right,” countered Qian Ai. “NPCs usually repeat a few lines, but I’ve nearly dug out their ancestors’ history. Whether you chat directly or beat around the bush, they can answer everything!”
“Artificial intelligence,” Wu Sheng chimed in, his eyes scanning the passersby as if inspecting lines of code. “Given current technology, seamless human-machine communication is possible, especially here.”
Indeed, especially here.
In a magical space where anything can happen, a mysterious place that forcibly drags people in, it wouldn’t be surprising if these were all willing extras, not to mention if artificial intelligence was advanced enough to simulate human interaction perfectly.
“Ding—”
[Passenger Kuang Jinxin, Passenger Qian Ai, Passenger Wu Sheng, Passenger Xu Wang. Please proceed through security to Gate 17 for boarding immediately!]
The incessant beeping of the [Cheat Sheet] sounded like an urgent call to action.
When destiny calls, they charge forward. Without hesitation, the group headed for the security checkpoint.
With nothing to their names, the four passed through the waiting hall easily, but Xu Wang noticed Kuang Jinxin’s unusually low spirits. Entering such a place would dampen anyone’s mood, but Kuang Jinxin was typically optimistic and lively, making his current state all the more abnormal. Upon inquiry, it turned out that while he was waiting with his backpack for the entrance to open, he was whisked into the terminal in a dizzying spin—he remained, but his backpack was gone.
Though Kuang Jinxin’s backpack lacked valuable items, it contained his carefully chosen “essentials for living”. He claimed that no matter the environment, whether it required food or drink, warmth or cooling, overnight stays or long treks, dancing or singing, his bag had all the “equipment”. Losing it was indeed disheartening.
Xu Wang patted his brother’s shoulder, feeling quite qualified to console him. “Don’t worry, it’s not lost. Based on my experience, your bag is probably lying safely on the hotel floor right now.”
“But I didn’t put any dangerous items in my bag.” Kuang Jinxin lamented with a droop of his eyebrows, looking quite wronged.
“That’s because your bag is too big!” Xu Wang knocked on his head. “Come on, cheer up. No matter how much you mourn, the bag won’t come back. We need to focus on what’s ahead. Who knows what kind of demons or ghosts are waiting for us on the plane.”
“I just thought of something.” Wu Sheng, who was leading the way, turned back abruptly. “If we get ejected back to reality on the plane, wouldn’t that technically be like jumping off a building?”
Xu Wang, following close behind, nearly bumped into him. Barely steadying himself, he was confronted with this brutal thought and felt utterly dispirited. “Can’t you say something more auspicious?”
Wu Sheng tilted his head, then changed the topic. “It probably won’t happen. If it can eject you the moment a bear pounces on you, it means there’s a ‘protection mechanism’ that’s inherently present, so it should’ve anticipated and prevented an ‘ejection from plane’ bug. Okay, I’m fine now.”
Xu Wang: “……”
Kuang Jinxin: “Wu Ge, you might be fine…”
Qian Ai: “But we’re all freaking out!!!”
The path through the terminal seemed endless, and Gate 17 felt like a mythical place that only existed in legends. They walked and walked, passing gates numbered 1, 2, 3, 4, even 20, and 30, but Gate 17 was elusive until it finally revealed itself after more than twenty minutes.
By their estimate, they had walked about 1.5-2 kilometers—coincidentally, the distance between the hotel and Zhenbeitai.
After checking in and boarding the plane, they encountered a flight attendant standing at the entrance with a warm and beautiful smile. The four of them took their seats according to their tickets: Wu Sheng in first class, Kuang Jinxin in business class, Qian Ai near the economy wing, and Xu Wang at the back of the economy class.
As they settled, the plane began to taxi slowly, and soon, Xu Wang felt a slight weightlessness and ringing in his ears—the plane had taken off.
What if they got ejected from the plane now?
Xu Wang cursed Wu Sheng for raising this concern, as it had now taken root in his subconscious, even causing his nearly healed shoulder wound to throb again.
“Don’t be nervous. The discomfort only lasts during takeoff and ascent. It’ll be smooth sailing soon,” a kind and hefty voice said next to him.
Turning, Xu Wang saw a middle-aged man wearing glasses sitting beside him. He looked scholarly and elegant, like a professor or teacher.
“First time flying?” the man asked, seeing Xu Wang’s silence. His tone wasn’t intrusive but seemed more like an attempt to alleviate the awkwardness of silence.
His voice was different from the ground staff’s earlier—naturally friendly and indistinguishable from an ordinary person. Yet Xu Wang, still uneasy from the lingering shadows of distrust, asked abruptly, “What’s your name?”
The man appeared slightly taken aback, as if wondering, ‘Is this how people chat?’
Watching the man’s minutely detailed expression, Xu Wang almost believed he was “human”, until he heard the response, “I’m Yin Yilingling (100)*, what about you?”
*Clarity: The characters introduced here are [surname] + [number as their first name]. I’ll put the translated text in parenthesis, so you’ll know what they mean.
What kind of parents would name their child that?
Not giving up, Xu Wang asked the young woman to his right. “What’s your name?”
She smiled sweetly. “Mu Jiuba (98).”
Xu Wang looked past her, asking another passenger across the aisle. “What about you?”
The three passengers in the last row all turned to him, introducing themselves forthrightly—
“Ping Jiuwu (95).”
“Huang Jiuliu (96).”
“He Jiuqi (97).”
As Xu Wang faced their smiling visages, he found himself unable to muster a smile in return.
[You still have four hours~~]
A voice filled with schadenfreude and a hint of mischief suddenly rang in his ear, its playfulness masking a sinister undertone. Xu Wang was all too familiar with it.
It had sent him back home.
It congratulated them on their submission.
Four hours? What did that mean?
As confusion brewed, a passenger near the window in the front started screaming, “There’s a bomb! Ahhhhh—”
Many people had the experience of gazing up at the night sky. The night was like an ink-splattered tapestry, with countless stars adorning it like dazzling pearls.
Observing the vast number of stars in their company, stargazers often felt a profound sense of loneliness. Yet, they may never realize that in this world, there existed another version of themselves, gazing at the same starry sky alongside them.
Beneath the surface of this perceivable world, there lay a second unknown realm.
This was the story setting incorporated into the new work by the author, Luo Yu.
The new work was in its preparation phase, with Luo Yu meticulously recording his materials in a manuscript. Besides the specific page that had the setting, almost every page described a crime that occurred on the 11th floor of the Saiya Hotel.
Simultaneously, Luo Yu was also piecing together the story of a couple who were killers, attempting to uncover their motives for their actions. He hadn’t settled on the exact storyline, but whenever an idea came to mind, Luo Yu would jot it down on a sticky note and casually attach it to various pages.
When players entered the world of this manuscript, the elevator became the tool for flipping through the manuscript’s pages, enabling them to jump to different page numbers and witness the corresponding crimes.
The reason rooms other than the crime scenes existed was because the second world was a duplicate, replicating the first world in every detail. Moreover, due to the presence of the sticky notes, players could also glimpse fragmentary love stories about the man and woman.
When the couple committed suicide, Zhou Qian couldn’t extinguish the charcoal fire in the room nor prevent their deaths, as their story was already written.
Why did they vanish suddenly?
Probably because the sticky note fell off the manuscript or Luo Yu removed it.
After understanding the structure of this special world, Zhou Qian and Bai Zhou began frequently entering and exiting the elevator, trying to decipher the connection between the 12 numbers in the elevator and the manuscript’s page numbers, aiming to ultimately find Luo Yu and his manuscript.
What they experienced just now, reading magazines and brainstorming, all happened after pressing the number “12”. A couple who idolized Luo Yu were subsequently murdered in room 1111. After brainstorming, Zhou Qian and Bai Zhou re-entered the elevator, pressing “12” again, and repeated this action 15 times. Three times, they witnessed the murder of the couple in room 1111. The other 12 times were three different cases.
If they label the murder case of the couple in room 1111 as A and the other three cases as B, C, and D, then Zhou Qian and Bai Zhou pressed the number “12” a total of 16 times.
They viewed case A 4 times, B 3 times, C 5 times, and D 4 times.
Interestingly, cases B, C, and D all occurred in room 1108, which was rumored to be haunted and once sealed with concrete. Because of the room’s unique backstory, when Luo Yu wrote about this room, he had vast creative freedom.
This was probably why multiple cases occurred in room 1108.
After testing the number “12”, Zhou Qian and Bai Zhou started trying the number “11”. Including their previous experiences with this number, they pressed “11” a total of 17 times and similarly witnessed four different cases. Specifically, they viewed these cases 4, 3, 5, and 5 times, respectively.
After their many attempts, Zhou Qian and Bai Zhou rested in the lounge opposite the elevator.
Zhou Qian took out pen and paper to note down their experiences and said to Bai Zhou, “The 12 numbers in the elevator correspond to multiple manuscript pages. Which number we press takes us to a random page and crime scene. It’s completely random, dependent on probability.”
“Unless we are incredibly unlucky and have pressed numbers 11 and 12 so many times and still missed some cases, each elevator number likely corresponds to four different manuscript pages and cases.”
“This suggests the manuscript has at least 48 pages, and this world has 48 layers!”
“Right.” Bai Zhou nodded. “The first time we went to the 1st floor, what we saw was the lobby, not the 11th floor. We didn’t witness any crimes there.”
“That time, our actions were forcibly directed by the system. The system eliminated all other possibilities we might encounter after pressing ‘1’. This can actually be considered a hint given by the system.”
Based on their findings, the number ‘1’ in the elevator should correspond to four different pages and cases in the manuscript. But the system took players to the lobby the first time they pressed “1”, a clear hint that among the four pages linked to this number, only three detail crimes, while the remaining page probably describes the hotel’s lobby setting.
Zhou Qian remarked, “One of the manuscript pages that details the lobby setting might also have other settings. This page is accessible by pressing ‘1’. I agree with this. Moreover, if I were the author, I would naturally put the settings on the first page. The subsequent pages would detail the crime materials.”
“Agreed. So, the number 1 can actually correspond to page 1,” Bai Zhou said. “If the subsequent numbers strictly correspond to page numbers in order—number 2 corresponds to page 2, number 3 corresponds to page 3… and so on until all 12 numbers are used up, then we have to start over from number 1. Everything would then become very clear.”
As Bai Zhou was speaking, Zhou Qian had already written a formula on the paper. However, in a split second, something occurred to him, and he took the pen to strike out the entire formula.
Afterward, Zhou Qian looked at Bai Zhou and drew a small line at the corner of his right eye with the pen.
In the past, when they were in school doing homework together, Zhou Qian often did this to Bai Zhou. The next thing he would say, always half-jokingly, half-seriously, was, “Zhou Ge, I can’t do this problem.”
Every time he said this, he would intently watch Bai Zhou from the side, as if observing every minute expression on his face.
Often, Bai Zhou couldn’t distinguish whether Zhou Qian truly didn’t know or was pretending not to know.
However, he never really cared. He would just quietly take the pen and carefully explain the problem to Zhou Qian, enjoying the process.
The situation was the same this time.
Taking the pen, Bai Zhou silently wrote a formula: [Y=X+12n.]
Zhou Qian laughed and snatched the pen from him. “Hmm, X is the set of numbers on the elevator panel, Y is the set of page numbers, and n is less than or equal to 3. Well, a simple set mapping problem.”
He didn’t care that this move revealed his feigned ignorance.
Bai Zhou remained unfazed. Looking at Zhou Qian, he added, “If the starting number 1 corresponds to a different page, just adjust the formula slightly by adding the difference, and it will work.”
“Right. The formula is simple. Our problem now is…” Zhou Qian said, “Although we suspect that the author is probably staying in room 1103, there are a total of 48 pages in the manuscript. Excluding the page with the lobby, there are at least 47 other room 1103s. Which one is the author staying in…”
“In other words, if the author entered the world within the manuscript, on which page would he reside?”
After Zhou Qian finished speaking, he heard Bai Zhou say, “31.”
Almost simultaneously, Zhou Qian picked up the magazine in front of him and once again flipped open Luo Yu’s interview.
The interview revealed that the author’s lucky number was “31”.
Zhou Qian quickly did the math in his head. “Hmm, if you want to get to page 31 of the manuscript, press the number 7 in the elevator.”
Bai Zhou grabbed his wrist and stood up. “Mm, let’s go. The probability of success is as high as 25%.”
Hearing this, Zhou Qian laughed.
When the elevator door opened, Bai Zhou could easily see his smile reflected in the elevator door.
However, the reflection on the elevator door wasn’t clear, making Zhou Qian’s smile seem a bit dreamy, as if it transported Bai Zhou back to the distant past that seemed so far away.
Staring at the elevator door until it slid open, Bai Zhou turned his attention to Zhou Qian next to him and asked, “What are you laughing at?”
“I’m laughing because, Zhou Ge, you indeed suit my temperament. A 25% probability—if it were Xiaowei or Little Swordsman God, they would think it’s too low. See, only you think like me—that this probability is high.”
Taking another glance at Bai Zhou, Zhou Qian stepped into the elevator. “Let’s go. Let’s see if we can succeed on our first try and find out if our assumptions made before writing the formula are correct.”
…..
Elsewhere, not long after checking into the hotel, Hidden Blade left, saying he had something to discuss with Zhou Qian and Bai Zhou.
Once he left, He Xiaowei never saw him return.
Later, He Xiaowei found himself helping an elderly woman who had fallen, guiding her to the elevator that went down to the lobby.
Of course, he didn’t realize that, from the moment he encountered the elderly woman, he had entered the world of the manuscript. He just thought he had entered a paranormal space, essentially seeing ghosts.
After witnessing the heads fall off the bodies of Xiong Fei and Li Yuan and seeing a couple disappear in the elevator, He Xiaowei was even more convinced of his ghost sighting theory.
His defenses were completely shattered. Finding no safe staircase, his only option was to take the elevator.
From then on, He Xiaowei stayed almost exclusively in the elevator, too scared to venture out.
Every time the elevator doors opened, and he saw the familiar rest area of the 11th floor, he would frantically hit the close button, then repeatedly press “1”, hoping he might get to the lobby and leave.
He Xiaowei felt his luck wasn’t great. He had pressed the number “1” at least 20 times before finally seeing the lobby.
He didn’t realize that he was actually quite fortunate—in those 20 times, he hadn’t encountered another version of himself or any other people from the second world trying to kill him.
Feeling relieved that he wasn’t seeing the repetitive 11th floor’s rest area but instead the lobby, He Xiaowei bolted out of the elevator.
Spotting the Receptionist Wang engrossed in his work, He Xiaowei ran towards him like he was seeing a dear family member. When he reached him, he slammed his hands on the desk. “Mr. Wang! Are you still doing your accounting? There’s been an incident! The hotel is haunted, don’t you know? It’s terrifying!”
“Don’t worry.” Receptionist Wang looked up at him and said nonchalantly, “Some people have died in this hotel, so it has a heavy yin aura. But you don’t have to worry. Isn’t that a swastika on your hand? It will protect you!”
He Xiaowei thought, ‘Indeed, if they openly admitted that the hotel was haunted, how would they do business?’
The hotel staff must have known about the ghost disturbances long ago. Telling them wouldn’t help. He just needed to think of a way to escape and not engage in further conversation.
Wait, he wondered how that person called Erdan was doing. Maybe if he had followed him to the police station, he might have had a chance to survive? Anyway, Qian’er wouldn’t harm him.
As these thoughts raced through He Xiaowei’s mind, he reached the hotel’s glass entrance.
Through the door, he could faintly see police tapes outside, but they were obscured by fog, making them look somewhat illusory.
The strangest thing happened when he tried to push the door open: an invisible force pushed him back.
Propelled into the air, He Xiaowei crashed down heavily. After some thought, he decided he needed to seek out Receptionist Wang to open the door for him.
Quickly getting up, he turned back to the front desk. But as he did, he noticed a trail of blood coming from behind it!
“Did… Did you kill someone?” He Xiaowei swallowed hard and asked Receptionist Wang.
Unable to use his qin, he quickly gripped a dagger in his hand.
Holding the dagger tightly, with a wary look, He Xiaowei approached Receptionist Wang step by step. He wanted to see who the deceased was.
The front desk clerk, still seemingly writing something, suddenly looked up, his face contorted by the light and shadow.
For a moment, he looked like a demon freshly crawled from hell.
“No, no… You’re not Receptionist Wang.”
Now close to the desk, He Xiaowei glanced inside, shocked to find the dead body looked exactly like Receptionist Wang!
“What the hell is going on here—”
Before He Xiaowei could think further, the living duplicate of Receptionist Wang suddenly raised an ax.
As the ax came slashing down like lightning, it was so fast that it felt instantaneous. He Xiaowei swiftly dodged to the side and then dove to the ground, skillfully evading the ax. With both of his forearms supporting his weight on the ground, he almost looked as if he were doing a plank.
Receptionist Wang swung the ax and missed, but quickly lifted it again, aiming for He Xiaowei.
He Xiaowei, with his nimble legs, seized the opportunity. Using his hands to push off the ground, he powerfully kicked both of his legs upwards, striking hard towards Receptionist Wang’s lower body.
Caught off guard, Receptionist Wang lost his balance. Both he and the ax toppled next to He Xiaowei, and the ax created a deep crater in the ground.
He Xiaowei quickly jumped up, thrusting his dagger fiercely into the man’s palm. The blade pierced through, pinning the man to the ground. Without any rush to pull out the dagger, He Xiaowei delivered a forceful kick to the man’s head. The man’s forehead hit the ground, bleeding profusely. Taking advantage of the situation, He Xiaowei mounted the man’s head with a forceful sit.
Subsequently, straddling the man’s neck, He Xiaowei pummeled him, all the while panting and interrogating, “When I first came to this hotel, I observed Receptionist Wang and studied his physique. He’s thin and weak, absolutely not a fighter. It seems you’re just like him. You could only succeed in killing him with a sneak attack, right?”
“Wait a minute. Judging by this, you’re not a ghost. What the hell are you?”
The man did not speak, and with his uninjured left hand, he suddenly exerted force, catching He Xiaowei off guard and gripping his waist fiercely. The ticklish spot on He Xiaowei was touched, causing his upper body to go limp instantaneously. As he lost strength, the man took the opportunity to push him away and stood up.
This so-called Receptionist Wang was clearly a tough character. Taking out the ax from the pit was time-consuming, so he simply ignored it. Instead, he extended his left hand, forcibly pulled the dagger from his right palm, and with the bloodstained blade, he slashed at He Xiaowei.
In that instant, blood splattered, and the knife gleamed like snow.
He Xiaowei quickly retreated several steps, narrowly avoiding the blade. As Receptionist Wang was about to swing a second time, He Xiaowei, instead of retreating, lunged forward, aiming his head directly at Receptionist Wang’s waist.
Receptionist Wang was completely caught off guard by this unconventional move. He hesitated for a split second, and in that brief moment, He Xiaowei, with a move resembling an iron-headed skill, collided with his waist, knocking him to the ground again. This time, He Xiaowei didn’t take any chances. He grabbed the dagger and thrust it directly into his opponent’s heart.
He watched him take his last breath and then, to his astonishment, watched him vanish into thin air. He Xiaowei retrieved his dagger, catching his breath, and quickly checked behind the front desk. Now, he saw the real body of the front desk clerk lying there, which confirmed that this was the genuine one.
He was utterly puzzled by the situation, but the weak fake Receptionist Wang had indeed reminded He Xiaowei of something—the strange occurrences in this instance might not necessarily be related to ghosts. With that thought, He Xiaowei felt somewhat relieved. He leaned against the front desk and took a moment to rest.
Little did He Xiaowei expect that before he could even catch his breath, there was another unexpected turn of events—
The elevator doors suddenly opened, and a figure holding a long machete rushed out.
Seeing this, He Xiaowei quickly ran towards him. But before he could shout “Master”, another identical figure burst out.
Damn it!
Why are there two of my masters?
Two Hidden Blade appeared, having completely identical appearances, weapons, and even the same fighting moves. Leaving the elevator one after the other, the two began to engage in a fierce battle. Their combat was tit-for-tat, and for a moment, He Xiaowei was simply dumbstruck.
How could someone be evenly matched with my master? My master’s sword technique is very powerful! He’s a Rank God player! What kind of monster can imitate him so perfectly?
Of course, He Xiaowei didn’t know that in the settings of this dual world, the two Hidden Blade were essentially one person, hence they could perfectly predict each other’s moves.
In this situation, He Xiaowei was clearly uncertain about whom to help.
After he anxiously shouted, “Master,” both of them surprisingly turned to look at him.
One of the Hidden Blade said, “He Xiaowei, come and help!”
The other swung his sword with a clang and shouted, “He’s the fake one. He Xiaowei, help me!”
He Xiaowei: “……”
As the two exchanged another dozen moves in an instant, He Xiaowei thought of a solution and loudly asked, “When did you formally accept me as a disciple?”
Both answered almost simultaneously, “After the ‘Last Wish’ instance ended.”
He Xiaowei then asked, “You originally didn’t want to take me as a disciple, right? Why did you agree later?”
Both again responded at the same time, “Because of 137!”
He Xiaowei: “Damn it, I knew you didn’t really want to, wuwuwu. So, I’m not good enough after all, wuwuwu—”
One Hidden Blade swiftly swung his sword three times, each missing its target, cutting down a lamp, lifting a piece of the wall, and breaking a plant in its path.
Grinding his teeth, he said to He Xiaowei, “Initially, it was indeed because of 137 that I considered trying to take you as a disciple. I gave you the entrance ticket to ‘Last Wish’ as a test for you. Later, I decided to accept you because you did perform well. So, I am sincere! Don’t be stunned. Can’t recognize your own master? Come and help!”
The other Hidden Blade, dodging those three strikes with a nimble figure, also swiftly swung his blade three times. His stance was almost identical to the previous Hidden Blade.
He said, “He Xiaowei, I am your real master. I remember the first thing you said to me. It was at the trading hall, right? You said to me, ‘Boss, do you need a leg accessory*? I can heal, deal damage, and take hits. Plus, I’m very smart!'”
*Referencing hugging a thigh.
He Xiaowei: “……..”
Fuck, don’t do this to me. I really can’t tell them apart!
……
Elsewhere.
The leader of the “Invincible Legion,” Batu Fei, was always seen with Liu Wansan.
Of course, he had no idea that under Liu Wansan’s skin was actually Wen Bin.
Their experience tonight was no different from others at the beginning. The system summoned them to the corridor for some reason, where they encountered an NPC. After helping the NPC in the lobby downstairs, when they tried to return to the 11th floor, they found they couldn’t.
Sensing something amiss, they entered the elevator. Batu Fei instinctively wanted to press “1”, but Liu Wansan stopped him just in time.
“Why won’t you let me press 1?” Batu Fei asked.
“Something’s off. Maybe someone created this chaos to lure us to the first floor?” Liu Wansan said. “We’d be walking straight into an ambush.”
“You’re… You’re right,” Batu Fei remarked, giving Liu Wansan a more appraising look. “I never noticed before, but you’re quite sharp!”
Liu Wansan replied, “It’s all thanks to you, boss. I’m just glad you’re willing to consider my advice. Just don’t be mad that I overstepped.”
“Don’t be so modest. If you’re right, why wouldn’t I listen?” Batu Fei patted his shoulder. “Am I the kind of leader who fears having subordinates smarter than me? Obviously not!”
“Let me teach you something today. A leader doesn’t have to be the most skilled, smartest, or strongest. The key is to recognize and utilize talent. Look at me. I have an eye for it! It doesn’t matter how I am personally, as long as my subordinates are smart.”
“So, there’s really nothing for you to worry about. If you can lead me to victory, why wouldn’t I listen to you or be jealous?”
“In the real world, I run a business. I might not be particularly talented, but I have capable people under me, and our company continues to thrive!”
What Batu Fei never expected was that he was the naive one.
In real life, he was born into privilege, directly inheriting a small workshop business from his family and becoming the boss.
Given life’s pressures and the need to earn money, people worked for him, naturally doing the tasks he assigned. Moreover, in modern society, there are legal constraints.
But now, he wasn’t in the real world. Without the protection of his parents and other relatives, and without laws and national safeguards, in this survival of the fittest world, what right did he have to be the leader?
So, when the two pressed “2” and encountered another Batu Fei, Liu Wansan didn’t help.
When Zhou Qian encountered a fake He Xiaowei, the fake one still tried to deceive and ambush. But in Batu Fei’s case, with two identical people unexpectedly coming face-to-face, they immediately started fighting.
For a full 30 minutes, they battled on that floor. Regardless of how the real Batu Fei pleaded with Wen Bin for assistance, he remained motionless, casually reading magazines in the reading area.
After 30 minutes, both Batu Feis were exhausted, falling to the ground, head-to-tail. They each had the other’s head pinned between their legs. Both were trying to incapacitate the other without being killed themselves. Neither had the strength to finish the other off.
Finally, after perusing all the magazines, Wen Bin casually approached the two, his shadow making him seem like Death.
The real Batu Fei managed to raise his head and realize something. “You’re not Liu Wansan…”
“It took you this long to realize? But it’s too late.”
Wen Bin drew out a delicate and exquisite fruit knife and, in an instant, swung it twice, each swing taking down one. Both Batu Feis were killed.
Swiftly, the fake Batu Fei disintegrated into ashes, disappearing into the void.
The real Batu Fei, however, died with his eyes wide open, unblinking in death.
Reflected deep within his pupils was Wen Bin’s image—he pulled out a photograph and then transformed himself into He Xiaowei.
The show’s original plan was to have the guests struggle to earn money and then struggle to borrow a dilapidated place. They wanted to bring Xia Xinran, who had just enjoyed the summer, to the party scene, expecting the contrast from luxury to a humble setting would surely ruffle the feathers of the arrogant birthday boy.
Unexpectedly, the guests pulled a big move.
Usually, celebrities are reluctant to publicly reveal their private homes. Even if their reality show contracts allow filming, only partial glimpses are aired, and certainly not a case like Lu Yiyao’s, who unexpectedly offered his place as a filming location.
In this variety show, Lu Yiyao’s home is a luxurious apartment in Chaoyang District, Beijing. He had no obligation to offer a second one, but he did.
He declared beforehand that the address and exterior of this second private residence couldn’t be revealed in the broadcast, and access was limited to the living room. Still, the director was ecstatic and hurried over with a crew and equipment.
The place was a seaside villa with a view of the sea and blooming spring flowers—a secret residence of Lu Yiyao, unknown and unphotographed by paparazzi.
It was uncertain if it was actually Lu Yiyao’s residence, as aside from his statement, “My house,” there was no personal touch in the villa. It was as if it had been left vacant after renovation, fully furnished yet devoid of any personal traces.
Regular cleaning was evident, as the bright living room was spotless. The lilies and lotus flowers in the vase on the table were fresh and elegant, giving a subtle floral fragrance in the air.
However, there were no photo frames, clothes, books, or any personal items that might reveal some gossip.
Disappointed, the director lost his initial excitement while instructing the crew to set up equipment.
Ran Lin was also surprised.
Like the crew, they only used the living room, which felt impersonal with its gray and white decor, only brightened by some colorful decorations.
Ran Lin doubted this was Lu Yiyao’s style, knowing his preference for colors other than gray in clothing.
Like his three companions, Ran Lin kept his questions to himself, respecting an unspoken agreement not to probe further.
Lu Yiyao’s willingness to offer his private home was generous, and not prying further was a courtesy among friends—if they could be called that.
“I’m very satisfied with the arrangements for this episode—really, very satisfied!” Xia Xinran, blindfolded and led into the living room, couldn’t see the route but didn’t forget to praise the crew, evidently pleased with the previous night’s luxury hotel and spa experience.
Everyone was in the living room, but apart from the four male stars, other crew members and equipment were out of camera range.
Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, filling the gray-white living room with a touch of warmth despite its cool-toned decor.
The moment Xia Xinran’s blindfold was lifted, the birthday song began.
The cake, chosen by Ran Lin, was Black Forest.
Xia Xinran had mentioned his fondness for chocolate, and fortunately, Black Forest was the specialty of that bakery. The cake wasn’t sliced yet into individual pieces.
The bright sunlight made the candle flames less noticeable. Initially, they thought of drawing the curtains, but the director decided that letting in the sunlight made for a better shot.
Lu Yiyao’s private villa, not in the original plan of the crew, added an unexpectedly beautiful setting, which the director was keen to utilize.
The birthday party was warm, but after the initial joy, there wasn’t much content. It was just eating cake and chatting.
The conversation was limited, mainly teasing Xia Xinran.
It was no wonder the male stars joined forces in teasing. Imagine, while one enjoys a five-star hotel and spa, the others work overnight to buy a cake, only to give it back to the birthday boy. It’s hard for anyone to feel balanced in such a scenario.
Indeed, it was such a great birthday.
Xia Xinran also genuinely felt the effort his friends had put in, feeling somewhat guilty. Initially, he took the teasing in good spirits.
But being not too straightforward himself, he soon started scheming and cleverly shifted the focus of the banter.
“Let’s play Truth or Dare!”
After all, a party isn’t a formal gathering. What’s the fun in just chatting politely? If they’re going to party, they should at least make it lively.
The four male stars were startled, instinctively looking at the director.
The director was thrilled and enthusiastically approved. “Great idea!”
Usually, Truth or Dare involves drawing straws, picking cards, or spinning a bottle, with newer versions using mobile apps.
As the guests weren’t allowed to use their phones and drawing straws lacked atmosphere, they decided to use a sponsor’s empty drink bottle, rustic and appealing.
The director deliberately focused the camera on the bottle’s label, finding Xia Xinran’s suggestion brilliant.
Half-drawing the curtains, the living room instantly gained the vibe of a chat session. The five people sat in a circle on the light gray carpet, placing the empty bottle in the middle, with Xia Xinran, the birthday boy, spinning it first.
Without hesitation, Xia Xinran looked around, chuckled, and swiftly twisted the bottle.
It spun rapidly, slightly shifting from its original position.
Ran Lin remembered playing such games with his college dormmates. Watching the spinning bottle, he felt a sense of time reversal, imagining the bottle as a green beer bottle, with the laughter of his friends echoing in his ears…
“Gu Jie!”
The bottle finally stopped, not directly pointing at Gu Jie but close enough to brush against his clothing.
Gu Jie wasn’t one to make a fuss. He immediately extended one hand, mimicking the gesture of Wong Fei-hung inviting questions. “Ask whatever you want to know.”
“Me! Me! Me!” Xia Xinran eagerly raised his hand, as if he had been holding the question in his heart for centuries, waiting for such an opportunity. Without waiting for Gu Jie to respond, Xia grinned mischievously and asked, “Did you and Su Wei ever actually date?”
Ran Lin’s jaw dropped.
Zhang Beichen and Lu Yiyao frowned. Though it was a game of Truth or Dare, asking someone directly about their romantic rumors on camera seemed inappropriate.
However, Gu Jie, as if expecting the question, calmly replied, “I’ve explained many times, we’re just friends.”
All eyes turned to Xia Xinran.
Nobody cared about whether Gu Jie and Su Wei were just friends. They were more interested in the “explained many times” part!
Xia Xinran was stunned. “What do you mean you explained many times? Wait, what does it have to do with me?” Realizing something, he threw a crumpled paper at Gu Jie. “You’re setting me up!”
Gu Jie was already laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
Xia Xinran immediately shifted his camera towards himself, righteously declaring, “My fans, I have nothing to do with that person spreading false rumors. I only love you all. Look into my pure eyes…”
The other three, realizing later, admired Gu Jie’s skill in handling Xia Xinran.
Compared to Xia Xinran’s spicy questions, the others were milder, and the round ended quickly.
Zhang Beichen was the next to spin the bottle, which, amusingly, pointed right back at him. Everyone laughed, including himself.
Until Xia Xinran asked a question that froze the atmosphere.
He inquired, “Before I came, I saw a clip from the first episode in Guilin. You said you’d let Ran Lin win. Was that intentional?”
The mood suddenly tensed.
Xia Xinran’s tone was light, but it felt like a cold breeze from the movie <The Day After Tomorrow> freezing everything in its path.
Zhang Beichen was caught off guard, while Gu Jie and Lu Yiyao had complicated expressions. Ran Lin only felt like a headache was coming.
“I don’t understand what you mean…” Zhang Beichen finally spoke up. He tried to appear natural but faced with such a direct and almost confrontational question, he was clearly unprepared.
Xia Xinran suddenly gave a narrow smile. “What I mean is, if you wanted to switch, you should’ve come to me, not Ran Lin. My accommodation that day was pitiful. You didn’t see it… Remember, next time, offer any benefits to me first. We’re that close!”
Zhang Beichen blinked blankly, slow to catch on, but then quickly nodded. “Okay, I’ll come to you next time.”
Xia Xinran reached out to pat his shoulder with a comforting expression.
Gu Jie and Lu Yiyao were baffled, unsure of Xia Xinran’s intentions. Was it just a joke, or was there a hidden message? If there was a hidden message, what was it? Was it meant for Zhang Beichen or Ran Lin?
Ran Lin, observing their puzzled looks, just wanted to facepalm.
He could tell that Xia Xinran didn’t like Zhang Beichen, but that was it. As for the reason behind Xia Xinran’s actions, he couldn’t figure it out and didn’t want to delve into it. He just wanted to record the show peacefully, and if it could gain a little popularity and lead to a script to act in, he would be more than grateful. There was really no need for added drama.
“It’s my turn to ask. In the youth films you’ve acted in, you’ve played a top student, a poor student, a prominent senior, and a rebellious teen. Which type were you actually closest to in school?”
This awkward moment needed a game-changer—a cue for the next step!
As expected, Zhang Beichen took up the question and talked at length.
Ran Lin wasn’t particularly interested in the answer, but since he had asked the question, he appeared to listen attentively while inwardly he was sweating.
Xia Xinran seemed unconcerned, as if he had just made a joke, and now, feeling relieved, he immersed himself in the next part of the game, listening to the answer along with Ran Lin with great interest.
Gu Jie and Lu Yiyao exchanged glances. The former felt he might be slow due to a lack of sleep, struggling to keep up with the rapid changes of the Truth or Dare game; the latter sensed something strange but not particularly relevant to him, so he didn’t delve deeper.
After Zhang Beichen’s round ended without incident, it was Gu Jie’s turn to spin the bottle, which pointed at Ran Lin.
Ran Lin, confidently narrowing his eyes, half-jokingly and half-defiantly said, “Bring it on.”
The friends prepared themselves, seemingly unreserved, but the questions asked were quite gentle.
Gu Jie asked, “What kind of role do you most want to play?”
Ran Lin wanted to cry. “A director must cast me first.”
Zhang Beichen asked, “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
The question itself was innocuous, but Zhang Beichen’s overly serious gaze and gentle tone made Ran Lin uncomfortable, prompting him to swallow his initial joke and give a serious and cautious reply. “I believe that emotions are diverse in this world. However, I haven’t experienced it. Personally, I’m more inclined towards love that grows over time.”
After answering, Ran Lin immediately looked at Lu Yiyao.
Lu Yiyao felt the previous question was a bit odd but didn’t think much of it, especially as the focus was now on him. He quickly asked his question, maintaining his momentum.
“How do you feel… about fans liking you as a person but not your origins?”
Ran Lin looked puzzledly at Lu Yiyao, feeling that the question was quite distant from his own experiences, more fitting the kind of issue Lu Yiyao might face. The tone of the question also seemed odd, as if Lu Yiyao initially wanted to ask something else but changed his mind at the last moment.
Despite the doubts, when asked, one must reply according to the rules. “Then I can only strive to offer better works, so that they will love the characters more than they love me in the future.”
Ran Lin’s answer carried a shy smile, reflecting a sentiment of, “I know I can’t bear the responsibility, but I have no choice but to talk big for now.”
Lu Yiyao picked up a sponsor’s drink and took a few sips, but his mind was pondering why he suddenly changed the question.
How do you view malicious hype?
That was what he actually wanted to ask.
But if he really asked, regardless of Ran Lin’s response, as long as the program team didn’t edit it out and broadcast this segment, Ran Lin would be criticized severely*.
*Spray. It’s an internet term that means being scolded/ridiculed ect. online.
Lu Yiyao knew all too well the combativeness of his fans, especially since they had disliked Ran Lin for a long time.
Sure enough, Lu Yiyao thought, he still disdains the behavior of those who rely on a large fanbase to recklessly create narratives.
It didn’t matter whether it was Ran Lin or not.
“It’s my turn, my turn.” Xia Xinran excitedly adjusted his sitting posture, oblivious to any subtleties or undercurrents, and eagerly made his request. “I need you to take a dare!”
Ran Lin was exasperated but also amused. “Why should I?”
Xia Xinran pitifully wrinkled his face. “It’s been so many rounds without a dare. It’s not thrilling at all!”
Ran Lin wasn’t prepared to indulge in the other’s pursuit of the game. “When it’s your turn, you can take all the dares you want. We won’t stop you.”
“I won’t ask you to do anything excessive. Just try it once,” Xia Xinran said sincerely. “Or else listen to my dare first, and if you don’t like it, I’ll change it back to a question.”
Ran Lin sighed. He was a man who could be persuaded by both hard and soft tactics, especially by the coquettishness of a beauty.
“Alright, let me hear it,” Ran Lin said with resignation, feeling like he was indulging a younger brother.
Xia Xinran sat up straight, cleared his throat, and announced seriously, “The dare is to say one thing you most want to say to each person present.”
Ran Lin was momentarily stunned, then laughed.
It wasn’t a malicious dare at all. No, it was more like a beginner’s level, full of goodwill towards the adventurer.
After pretending to think deeply, Ran Lin finally agreed. “Okay.”
Xia Xinran showed a satisfied smile.
Ran Lin straightforwardly started with him. “Xia Xinran, you are the prettiest… younger brother I’ve ever seen.”
The expectant face immediately became embarrassed. “Why do you have to demote me while complimenting me…”
Gu Jie casually reminded, “Brothers are equals.”
What he got in return was a disdainful glance from the great beauty.
Ran Lin, feeling refreshed, turned to the next person. “Zhang Beichen, on the day we recorded the theme song, I wanted to say that your voice is really nice in the recording studio.”
Zhang Bei Chen was surprised and scratched his head before smiling at him. “Thanks.”
“Gu Jie…”
“Hmm?” Gu Jie perked up, ready to listen attentively.
Ran Lin said earnestly, “You are really too slow to warm up.”
Gu Jie narrowed his eyes. “Why does it become a roast when it’s my turn…”
Xia Xinran clapped his hands in amusement, enjoying seeing the other party embarrassed.
Ran Lin lowered his eyes, pondering for a moment, then turned to Lu Yiyao.
Lu Yiyao waited quietly, without particular expectation or excitement, feeling somewhat puzzled.
Why did Ran Lin speak so smoothly about the others but hesitate when it came to him? He wasn’t that difficult to summarize, was he?
Moreover, Ran Lin wasn’t Xia Xinran. Even if he pondered longer, he certainly wouldn’t say anything too outrageous. Without listening, one could guess that, whether it was praise or criticism, it would surely be a harmonious sentiment of everyone being happy.
“Lu Yiyao…” Ran Lin finally spoke.
Lu Yiyao nodded, immediately straightening up in a posture of serious listening.
“I’m sorry.”
After much contemplation, that was all he said.
Lu Yiyao froze in the sunlight.
His seat wasn’t great, right next to an uncovered window. The sunlight always shone into his eyes, forcing him to occasionally look away to avoid it.
But now, he didn’t move, letting the sunlight bathe him, as if frozen in place, motionless for a long time.
Gu Jie and Zhang Beichen were clueless.
Only Xia Xinran immediately understood and couldn’t help but complain, “It’s just that the hay got blown away and we couldn’t start a fire. We ended up eating later anyway. Lu Yiyao won’t mind.”
Gu Jie suddenly realized, then looked at Xia Xinran speechlessly.
Zhang Beichen corrected with a smile, “It was coconut palm.”
Xia Xinran frowned. “What’s the difference?”
Zhang Beichen moved his lips a few times but eventually gave up on explaining, and it seemed Xia Xinran wasn’t planning to listen anyway.
Ran Lin watched them divert the topic with their banter, just smiling and not explaining further.
What he really wanted to apologize for, only he knew.
Xia Xinran, Gu Jie, and Zhang Beichen might not know, and Lu Yiyao probably couldn’t guess it either.
Since his friends accepted that he was apologizing for sabotaging Lu Yiyao’s fire-making, then let it be so.
He just wanted to apologize, regardless of whether the other party understood or not, as a way to account for his previous actions. Otherwise, simply asking Wang Xi to tell the publicity team to stop, it always felt like he was muddling through without proper resolution.
A bottle of the sponsor’s drink was suddenly handed over in front of him.
Ran Lin looked up in confusion, following the arm to meet Lu Yiyao’s face.
Then he heard the other person say, “Forget it.”
Suddenly, the world became quiet, with no other sounds.
The only thing echoing in his ears were these two words.
Lu Yiyao, watching Ran Lin’s wide-eyed, stunned expression, found it amusing and decided to enjoy the sight a bit longer. After having his fill, he weighed the drink in his hand and recited the advertisement, “Replenish trace elements and restore your energy for the day. Won’t you drink it?”
Ran Lin blinked, finally regaining his composure, and snatched the drink from Lu Yiyao, unscrewing the cap and gulping it down.
What Lu Yiyao said wasn’t “it’s okay,” but “forget it.”
Li Yiyao understood what he meant!
Lu Yiyao slightly regretted handing over the drink, debating whether to advise Ran Lin to drink slower. Even if guests were obliged to promote for sponsors, there was no need to go this far.
After all, what he said wasn’t “it’s fine,” but just “forget it.”
“It’s fine” would mean he didn’t care about those things at all.
“Forget it” meant he cared but didn’t want to dwell on it anymore.
Just a “forget it” made the other so happy. Lu Yiyao suddenly wanted to ask where Ran Lin got the courage to ride on the coattails of popularity in the first place. With such a mentality, he should have just stuck to regular releases of edited street snaps and selfies to maintain his original popularity.
Xia Xinran, for no apparent reason, looked at Ran Lin blowing on the bottle and then at Lu Yiyao, who seemed to be muttering to himself, not understanding how his creativity turned into advertisement time.
After some thought, he picked up three other bottles of the drink, one for himself and the other two for Zhang Beichen and Gu Jie, saying helplessly, “Don’t just sit there. Join in.”
The third episode’s filming in the villa concluded. Lu Yiyao, with his outstanding wilderness survival skills and the ability to produce a set of villa keys at any time, was unanimously voted as the episode’s “Tropical Breeze First Love”.
Normally, the guests would leave first, and the crew would wrap up, but today’s location was different—a private place. As the host, Lu Yiyao had to patiently wait for the crew to finish.
His four companions simply joined him in waiting. Since the filming ended early today, there was plenty of time before the evening flight back, and they could leave early thanks to Lu Yiyao’s help.
The crew had a lot of equipment, and packing up was quite troublesome. While waiting boredly, Xia Xinran suddenly suggested, “Hey, let’s add each other on WeChat.”
Everyone agreed to the idea, but they weren’t allowed to bring mobile phones during the shoot, and their phones were currently with their agents or assistants at the hotel.
Their attempt to add WeChat was unsuccessful, so Xia Xinran set his sights on the golden paper crowns that came with the cake. After much deliberation, he couldn’t resist asking the staff to take a group photo of the five of them with their phones.
Naturally, he stood in the middle with the crown, flanked by two male gods on each side.
The four cooperated fully, smiling willingly for the camera.
The crew finally finished packing up before Xia Xinran could come up with a third mischievous idea, and everyone returned to the hotel together.
Xia Xinran was still thinking about adding WeChat. Now that everyone had their phones, they indulged his wish and added each other. After adding, Xia Xinran immediately pulled everyone into a group and shared the group photo taken by the staff.
Seeing this, Gu Jie joined in the fun, saved the photo, and then changed the group name to “Chen Sheng Wu Guang*.”
*Referencing two historical figures from ancient China, best known for their roles in the early stages of the Chinese rebellion against the Qin Dynasty around 209 BC. This rebellion eventually led to the fall of the Qin Dynasty and the rise of the Han Dynasty. Due to this, their story is usually a symbol of resistance against tyranny and the fight for justice.
For the next two days after returning, the group was quiet, probably because everyone was busy or, even if they had time, they couldn’t find anything to talk about. But Ran Lin would still check the group, which he had pinned, every time he opened WeChat. Just glancing at the group name seemed to ignite a passion to stand up against the program crew to the end.
On February 14th, Valentine’s Day evening, three days before the filming of the fourth episode, the first episode of <National First Love Drifting Story> aired as scheduled!
Ran Lin never got an answer from Lu Yiyao, but the answer wasn’t really important.
By the third episode, he was finally able to interact normally with Lu Yiyao and even occasionally joke with him, which was satisfying enough for him.
The night was clear with a moonlit sky, and the temperature was much cooler than during the day. Fortunately, the production team had a bit of humanity left and gave the male stars thick jackets, which they could use as blankets or wear as they liked.
Ran Lin used his as a blanket. The five of them, with four coconut leaf tents, had settled their sleeping arrangements through rock-paper-scissors, resulting in the losers, Xia Xinran and Zhang Beichen, sharing one tent. Xia Xinran’s expression when the results were announced looked like the end of the world.
Ran Lin didn’t understand what Xia Xinran disliked so much about Zhang Beichen, but the topic was too sensitive, and they weren’t close enough for him to ask, so he kept his curiosity to himself.
Lying down, using his arms as a pillow, listening to the waves, and looking at the sea and sky merging in the distance, he felt his mind opening up. Ran Lin was a thoughtful person, but at that moment, he just wanted to empty his mind. It had been a long time since he felt this way, with nothing to think, do, or worry about. He was just lying there quietly, letting time pass by…
“Oh yeah!”
A sudden cheer shattered the tranquility of the night.
Ran Lin sighed, thinking he just wasn’t destined to have a moment of peace, and got up to look outside. However, he was too slow and only caught a glimpse of Xia Xinran happily leaving with the production crew.
“What’s going on?” Ran Lin, puzzled, asked Lu Yiyao in the next tent, who had come out to look earlier.
But Lu Yiyao wasn’t very clear either and could only guess. “Maybe the production team has a new task for him.”
Ran Lin frowned in confusion and muttered, “What new task could there be in the middle of the night?”
Lu Yiyao thought for a moment and seriously met his eyes. “I think it’s better not to speculate.”
For a moment, Ran Lin was almost lost in Lu Yiyao’s gaze. Regaining his composure, he laughed. “You’re right. It’s probably not about getting a midnight snack.”
Lu Yiyao smiled wryly, shrugged, and crawled back into his leaf tent.
Ran Lin exhaled softly, feeling a strange sense of relief.
Cautiously slipping back into his tent and lying down, Ran Lin could still feel his heart pounding erratically.
The last time he felt this way was when he first joined the company and attended the premiere of a famous director’s movie. The film started with the male lead slowly lifting his head in a close-up shot. His expression was subdued, but his eyes were filled with deep, unspoken emotions. That moment had his heart skipping a beat and then uncontrollably racing.
The film was told from the female lead’s perspective, so Ran Lin’s emotions followed hers, experiencing joy and sorrow for this man. By the end of the movie, it felt like he had gone through a romance himself.
However, strangely enough, when the cast came out to thank the audience, seeing the male star on stage, Ran Lin felt nothing. He realized it was the character portrayed in the movie that had moved him, not the actor himself. In reality, the actor was nothing like the character he played: cheerful, eloquent, and gentle, in contrast to the introverted, melancholic man with a dark side in the film.
That was when Ran Lin understood the incredible and magical power of actors, able to bring characters so different from themselves to life with such delicacy and realism, making them feel real and tangible.
Ran Lin didn’t fall for that male star, but he did fall in love with acting.
But Lu Yiyao wasn’t playing any character.
Here, by the sea where the waves never ceased, Lu Yiyao was just being himself.
This wasn’t a good sign.
Ran Lin tossed and turned, unable to settle down, wishing he could sit up and howl like Xia Xinran had.
The entertainment industry is a rather strange place, where male celebrities can feign homosexuality for show, but they cannot be truly gay. Even if some have been irrefutably exposed, as long as the male star wants to continue working in the industry, they must firmly deny any “suspicions of same-sex relations”.
When encountering such statements, public relations teams feel as if they are facing a formidable enemy. Regardless of whether they respond with an air of indifference, suggesting that “rumors stop with the wise”, or with a forceful “I’m going to send you a legal notice”, they are, without exception, highly vigilant about such rumors behind the scenes.
In theory, society has become more tolerant towards sexual orientation, especially the younger generation, who are more open and accepting.
But for some reason, in the entertainment industry, this issue is a red alert. At best, it leads to negative publicity; at worst, it can rapidly end a career.
Ran Lin was frustrated with this situation but understood that to stay in the industry, he had to play by its rules. So he had always kept silent about his own sexual orientation, even deleting any potentially suggestive comments and photos from his social media before possibly signing with Dream Without Limits.
He didn’t want to hurt others, but he had to protect himself.
Fortunately, in his two years in the industry, he hadn’t been troubled by rumors about liking men. Perhaps because his career wasn’t very high-profile and his social circle was shrinking, he had almost forgotten what it felt like to fall for someone.
But just now, at that moment, Lu Yiyao reminded him.
Falling for someone in the industry, especially a famous male idol star?
Ran Lin felt like he was courting disaster.
No, he couldn’t jump to conclusions so quickly.
Ran Lin bit his lip, furrowed his brow, and finally sat up before all the coconut leaves were stripped away, leaning out of the tent to call out, “Lu Yiyao…”
A moment later, a half-asleep face appeared from the next tent. “Hmm?”
From the tents further down, two pairs of eyes watched in secret.
“I still find it suspicious that Xia Xinran was called away…” Ran Lin was speaking about a prepared topic, but his gaze was firmly fixed on Lu Yiyao’s face, not shifting even for half a second.
Lu Yiyao yawned, frowned, tilted his head in thought, and then suddenly his eyes darkened. “Could it be that they’re planning a surprise attack after we fall asleep?”
“…”
“Ran Lin?”
“Ah.” Shaking his head, Ran Lin finally came back to his senses and nodded vigorously. “That’s very likely.”
Lu Yiyao sighed wearily, feeling disheartened. “Then there’s no hope of getting a good night’s sleep tonight.”
Gu Jie and Zhang Beichen, who had been secretly observing and listening with bated breath, felt the same way as Lu Yiyao at this moment—wishing for a quick end. However, exhausted and drained, they had little energy to resist and could only lie back down, waiting for their fate to unfold.
Ran Lin had long known that his companions were awake, but it didn’t matter. The discussion was just a pretext. What he really wanted to do was see if Lu Yiyao could still electrify him once more. The result was unexpectedly good—his heartbeat remained steady.
Even as he intensely observed Lu Yiyao, his breathing stayed calm, and his heart rate was normal. This proved that his previous flustered state was just a random occurrence. Maybe in that moment, his nerves had crossed, or perhaps the beauty of the stars and nature had added a beautifying effect to Lu Yiyao.
Relieved, Ran Lin relaxed and soon drifted into a light, uneasy sleep to the sound of the waves. He didn’t know that Lu Yiyao, lying nearby, was suffering from insomnia.
As if in kind, Lu Yiyao also pondered over Ran Lin, but it had nothing to do with such deep issues as sexual orientation. Lu Yiyao simply thought Ran Lin was incredibly sensitive.
Take the events of the day, for example. He hadn’t thought there was anything unusual about the way he looked at Ran Lin—just a bit more eye contact than usual—yet Ran Lin had directly sensed sympathy.
Sympathy?
Certainly.
But Ran Lin had so accurately perceived an emotion that Lu Yiyao himself was unaware of, which left him with no other word to describe Ran Lin but “sensitive”.
In the entertainment industry, sensitivity is a double-edged sword. It can help you better understand roles and shape characters, but it also makes you more susceptible to the opinions of fans and the public gaze.
Some people thrive under criticism, while others crumble under the pressure.
Lu Yiyao had seen too many cases and thought Ran Lin would be among the latter.
A pretty good person.
After just two and a half episodes together, this was the most positive assessment Lu Yiyao could give of Ran Lin. He couldn’t say more, but it was enough.
No one is perfect. A male artist with a good temper, serious about his work, and occasionally playful—at least among his peers—Lu Yiyao found him comfortable to be around. He had seen too many two-faced individuals still adored by fans. Compared to them, Ran Lin’s situation seemed even more deserving of sympathy.
Although initially, Lu Yiyao had wanted to confront Ran Lin’s supporters.
Enough of these thoughts.
As Yao Hong had rightly said, Lu Yiyao, looking at the sea blending with the starry sky, realized he had it too easy in his career, always with excess energy and a penchant for meddling in others’ affairs.
“All male gods, gather—”
There was no need for a loudspeaker. On the quiet beach, the director’s voice easily pierced through the waves to reach their ears.
The male gods, whether asleep or awake, were startled. Gu Jie nearly sent the tent flying as he rushed out. The cameras, previously fixed, were now hoisted onto the shoulders of the cameramen. The four gathered understood immediately—a new task was at hand.
“It’s now 00:01.” The director checked his watch, his tone unusually solemn. “We’ve entered a brand new day. Are you all excited?”
The four male gods clapped, albeit sparsely and with stiff smiles.
Satisfied with the impact he had made, the director dropped the real bombshell. “Today is also the birthday of your little buddy, Xia Xinran!”
This genuinely surprised the four. They looked at each other in confusion and surprise, instinctively scanning their surroundings as if they might find the birthday star nearby.
“Don’t bother looking. Xia Xinran has already gone to his new task. So, our remaining four male gods also have a task: to organize a birthday party for your buddy by 10 a.m. The requirements are a birthday cake, a private party venue, and all of this without spending a penny.”
Gu Jie, puzzled, raised his hand. “What constitutes a private party venue?”
The director explained, “It can’t be in the open air, like a forest, park, or beach, nor a public area like streets, malls, or plazas. It must be a private shop or residence, and the entire party must be closed off. The location will not be disclosed during the broadcast. In short, you must borrow a private venue and can’t use the promise of publicity as leverage.”
Gu Jie had black lines on his face. “That’s quite secretive…”
Zhang Beichen followed up, “And the birthday cake?”
The director answered, “You have to manage that on your own.”
A foreboding sense of doom hung over the male gods. The day would gradually brighten, but their prospects seemed increasingly grim.
Pleased with the turmoil he had caused but still not satisfied with the enthusiasm from the male gods, the director repeated, “Any other questions?”
Ran Lin sighed and played along. “Can you tell us what task Xia Xinran is doing?”
The director finally smiled broadly. “Five-star hotel tester and Southeast Asian spa connoisseur.”
Ran Lin had anticipated something far-fetched, but he couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity.
Zhang Beichen expressed the envy of all their companions. “The birthday boy really gets special treatment…”
Returning from the distant suburbs to the city center covers a considerable distance. The four people were grateful to finally catch some brief sleep amidst the jostling.
At 1:30 in the morning, the city was far from asleep.
The streets were still bustling with people, some clad in swimsuits and wrapped in towels, clearly the brave souls who, undaunted by the water temperature, had just returned from the sea.
There was no need to venture to the distant suburbs for wilderness survival; the city center itself boasted a beach with crystal-clear water and soft sand. It was no wonder that, centered around this, various real estate projects under the guise of “seaside properties” were continuously developed, with one high-rise apartment after another springing up along the coast.
“Where are we going now?” Zhang Beichen looked around, clueless.
“It boils down to two things: a cake and a venue.” Gu Jie stretched his neck to ease his overworked and unrested joints. “Now it’s up to us which one we want to tackle first.”
“Venue?” Gu Jie didn’t ponder deeply; it was more of an intuition. “Otherwise, once we have the cake, we’ll still need to carry it around looking for a private place.”
Zhang Beichen scratched his head, gently suggesting a different view. “I always feel a venue is easier to find than a cake at this time. The places that can make or sell cakes are limited now. We should tackle the harder task first.”
“Neither cakes nor venues are easy to get right now,” Ran Lin said. “Why don’t we first think about how to get these two things? Like, for the cake, do we make or buy it? For the venue, do we ask a shop owner or a local for their house? Once we have a plan, we can work towards it.”
Gu Jie asked, “Teacher Lu, what do you think?”
Lu Yiyao replied, “We shouldn’t have let the director go just now.”
Gu, Ran, Zhang: “True that!”
Unable to devise a strategy for the moment, the four shared a common sentiment—well played, director.
The four helpless male gods wandered down to the beach, following the noise. The seaside night market, bustling with stalls offering local delicacies, was still brightly lit and crowded. Lu Yiyao, recognized first, caused screams from a girl holding a coconut jelly that could have been heard across the beach.
As the saying goes, in crisis, opportunity lurks. The four were struck by inspiration—work using their good looks!
The chosen stall owners were more than happy to have male gods as their facade. Who cared about the taste when business was booming like never before.
They really put in their all. Lu Yiyao grilled skewers, Ran Lin fried pineapple rice, Zhang Beichen handled the money, and Gu Jie fanned the flames and attracted customers.
They worked until dawn, when the number of tourists dwindled, and neighboring stalls began to close. The stall owners finally contentedly counted out their agreed share of the earnings and handed it to the male stars.
A total of three hundred and forty yuan.
The four exhausted male stars found the courage to continue from these hard-earned bills.
In the early morning, as the city’s nightlife ended and the daily hustle had yet to begin, there was finally a hint of tranquility. The four sat or lay under a palm tree, staring into the sky.
They were waiting for the cake shop to open.
They weren’t sleepy anymore, but the city was still asleep. Apart from 24-hour convenience stores and fast-food joints, other shops were in dreamland.
“This has got to be the longest day I’ve ever experienced…” Gu Jie said, looking at the brightening sky and feeling downcast.
Zhang Beichen corrected him, “It’s been two days.”
Gu Jie shook his head. “Feels like one long day that never ends.”
Ran Lin sat cross-legged by the flower bed, his arm propping up his chin, not very energetic but agreeing with Gu Jie in his heart. They had barely slept that night, so although it was technically the second day, it still felt like a continuation of the previous one.
“You guys alright?” Zhang Beichen, noticing the quietness of Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao, asked with concern.
Ran Lin quickly shook his head. “I’m fine.”
But Lu Yiyao asked, “Do you know what I’m thinking right now?”
Zhang Beichen thought for a moment. “What Xia Xinran is doing right now?”
Gu Jie raised an eyebrow. “Smear cake on his face.”
Ran Lin laughed, guessing along. “Why isn’t it my birthday?”
Lu Yiyao looked at Ran Lin in surprise. Although Zhang Beichen and Gu Jie had guessed he was brooding over Xia Xinran, only Ran Lin hit the nail on the head. It wasn’t a coincidence anymore; it was magical.
Ran Lin had just said it casually, but seeing Lu Yiyao’s expression, he knew he was close to the mark, which was somewhat exciting. After all, Lu Yiyao wasn’t easy to read.
“Xia Xinran must treat us when we get back.”
“The precondition is that we can get back. I feel like I’m about to collapse here…”
“Don’t cry. Be strong.”
“Get lost, haha…”
Amidst their joking and laughter, the sun slowly rose, the breeze grew warmer, and the streets became busy again—the city was waking up.
“Boss, please help us.”
“No way.”
“Just for a morning.”
“Not even for an hour. I appreciate you buying a cake, but our shop needs to do business. If you occupy the shop, how can I open?”
“After we buy this cake, you’ll be open.”
“But I can’t just open for one item in the morning.”
“…”
Despite their efforts, they couldn’t persuade the shop owner. They left the cake shop disheartened. The cake, in Lu Yiyao’s hands, in its elegant light-colored box with a blue ribbon, was fresh and charming, but it couldn’t ease their troubled minds.
The cameramen, who had followed them all night, felt some sympathy. From struggling to survive on a deserted island to working midnight shifts at a food stall, and now searching for a free private party venue in a strange city. The hardships of the previous two episodes combined didn’t compare to this one.
Determined, they entered several shops along the street. Most shop owners who recognized them were initially enthusiastic, but their attitude subtly changed when they heard about the private party, not open to the public.
The shop owners were willing to accommodate celebrities for the publicity, like the beachfront market owners. If the four couldn’t bring them business, even their good looks wouldn’t guarantee a job. True fan shop owners were the exception, of course.
But whether it was bad luck or their fame not reaching every demographic, they were still without a venue as 10:00 approached.
Having figured out the director’s modus operandi, they knew a solution would be provided if they genuinely couldn’t complete the task, like with previous challenges such as making fire from wood. But the thought of the director’s smug “Oh, I have to step in” face made them reluctant to give in.
The initial aim of joining the show was self-challenge, but now, they wanted to challenge the production team.
To the camera, the four were silent. But amongst themselves, they could feel each other’s determination. The same show, the same resilience.
Maybe, just let it go.
They could say that, but they didn’t want to give up until the last moment.
Ran Lin noticed that Lu Yiyao had been unusually quiet since failing to negotiate with the cake shop owner. Although not a talkative person, his expression seemed not just downcast but deep in thought.
“Speaking of which…”
Lu Yiyao suddenly spoke up, looking at his three companions.
Ran Lin quickly looked away, then back, pretending he had been admiring the scenery.
Lost in his thoughts, Lu Yiyao didn’t notice. “Didn’t the director only say we can’t spend money and it must be private? Nothing else?”
“Yes.” Zhang Beichen nodded. “Just those two conditions.”
Lu Yiyao pondered for a moment, as if making a significant decision. “I know a place that will definitely let us have a party, and it’s absolutely private.”
Sorry, Hong Jie.
I know you’ll criticize me for being impulsive and unnecessary. But it’s not the first time I’ve been impulsive, and besides, people with severe sleep deprivation deserve some whims.
Three pairs of eyes suddenly lit up. “Where?”
A playful and proud smile responded, “My house.”
Kinky Thoughts:
This is the last of the free chapters on jjwxc. If you’ve been enjoying the novel so far and are able to, please consider supporting the author by buying the raws. You can use Google Chrome with their auto translate and this guide on how to buy novels on jjwxc. Remember, only with your (financial) support can artists continue to produce more great works.
When Gu Jie was waving from not far away, Lu Yiyao had just finished applying sunscreen to one of his arms. Xia Xinran’s sunscreen had a slight whitening effect, making his skin tone half a shade lighter upon application.
Upon hearing the call, the other three companions immediately perked up and ran over. By the time Lu Yiyao realized what was happening, only he and the following cameraman were left standing in the chaotic wind.
With no choice, Lu Yiyao, with his arms of slightly different colors, also followed.
Gu Jie’s discovery was a screwdriver found under a pine tree deep in the coconut grove. This wild coconut grove wasn’t planned or arranged in any specific way. Although mainly coconut trees, the deeper they went, the more pronounced the terrain’s ups and downs became, like small hills. Further in, where there were fewer coconut trees, pine trees, cacti, and other tropical plants whose names were unknown, thrived. Despite it being winter, the area was bursting with life.
“Why would there be a screwdriver here?”
The five companions circled around this curious find, completely baffled.
“It’s a Phillips head…” Lu Yiyao muttered as he took the screwdriver from Gu Jie’s hand for a closer look. Suddenly, he gripped the yellow rubber handle with one hand and the slender metal head with the other and forcefully pulled in opposite directions!
The four onlookers watched as the metal head separated from the rubber handle, revealing that the part inserted into the handle was identical in length and thickness to the exposed part, except the Phillips head had changed to a flathead.
“Exactly as I thought.” Lu Yiyao spun the detached metal head between his fingers like a pen and reinserted it into the handle, smiling with a look of “just as I suspected”. “It’s a dual-purpose screwdriver.”
Ran, Xia, Zhang, Gu: “……”
They admitted that Lu Yiyao had quickly discovered the dual nature of the screwdriver, but what significance did that have, they wondered.
“Well, being able to turn both Phillips and flathead screws is indeed something to be happy about…” Ran Lin sighed lightly, taking the two-piece screwdriver from Lu Yiyao and reassembling it. “But I think there aren’t many places on this deserted island where we can use a screwdriver. Shouldn’t we think about the deeper reason for its appearance here?”
This comment was a wake-up call. Lu Yiyao stroked his chin, deep in thought. “Maybe it’s a reminder that human pollution has spread even to such a paradisiacal and remote island…”
Ran Lin looked seriously into his eyes. “You don’t have to think so broadly…”
Lu Yiyao was indeed a peculiar person.
Ran Lin wasn’t sure how the others felt, but he couldn’t find a more fitting word than “strange”. Lu Yiyao, who was almost unresponsive in the last episode, was now fully engaged.
But his engagement was special.
It was “serious”.
Seriously interacting, seriously discussing, seriously getting involved in the plot.
This kind of “seriousness” might come off as “boring” in others, but in Lu Yiyao, it somehow became endearing.
Ran Lin didn’t know if it was because Lu Yiyao’s “seriousness” was simple and pure, untainted by any insincerity, or if it was his own bias, seeing through a filter of good looks. Regardless, he quite liked Lu Yiyao’s current state, which felt sincere, comfortable, wise, and adorably cute.
“Let’s do a thorough search of this area,” Zhang Beichen suggested. “We focused on the front part of the coconut grove earlier, but we didn’t pay much attention to this mixed area.”
The four companions looked at each other and agreed!
Ten minutes later, it was Gu Jie again, with the same phrase—
“Come over here. I’ve found something!”
When Lu Yiyao heard the call, he had already passed the same cactus for the third time. This particular cactus had a distinctive, graceful shape, so Lu Yiyao remembered it clearly. In fact, he had a clear memory of many things—except directions. Hence, he had a deep admiration for someone like Gu Jie, who could always find the way out and locate landmarks most efficiently.
This time, Gu Jie’s discovery was several coconuts, casually scattered under a short coconut tree, as if they had naturally fallen. But…
Ran Lin looked up carefully at the tree. Its leaves were lush and green, but where there should have been fruit, it was bare.
Compared to this, the coconuts on the ground seemed very suspicious.
However, some foodie companions didn’t care much about that. Xia Xinran, jumping three feet high, picked up a coconut and hugged it as if calling it sweetly could make the juice flow out. “We can drink coconut water now—coconut water, coconut water—”
Thankfully, Xia Xinran’s clamor led Lu Yiyao to his companions.
And then, Zhang Beichen had a sudden inspiration, pointing to the screwdriver in Ran Lin’s hand. “Is this meant for opening coconuts?”
The companions looked at each other, suddenly realizing. In this show, there was no such thing as “coincidence”. Every seemingly unrelated object, if it felt a bit odd, surely hinted at the “evil light” of the show’s planning.
But no one was going to turn away good food, especially after their exhaustive search of the island had left them panting and parched.
They used the screwdriver on a coconut.
Choosing a spot on the coconut that seemed weaker, they used the sharper flathead of the screwdriver to puncture it. Ran Lin poked, Ran Lin poked, Ran Lin poked, then Gu Jie took over, switching when their hands got tired, until all five had taken turns.
Lu Yiyao was last in line.
After taking the seemingly unharmed coconut from Xia Xinran, he thought for a moment and earnestly asked his companions, “Can I use a rock to hammer the screwdriver handle in?”
A moment of awkward silence…
Finally, the four companions roared in unison. “Why didn’t you say that earlier!”
With the help of a rock, the screwdriver finally pierced through the coconut shell and into the water. When Lu Yiyao said “it’s through”, his companions felt as if they had heard heavenly music.
The juice of a large coconut was quite plentiful and abundant. The five of them took turns pouring it into their mouths, going around twice.
The remaining three coconuts were hoarded in Xia Xinran’s embrace, wrapped in the hem of his shirt, as if he were guarding the fruits of victory.
“What do we do now?” Zhang Beichen looked around but still didn’t find anything useful. “We should conserve the three coconuts to last us the day, but what about the shelter and bonfire? We can’t just conjure them out of thin air.”
At this moment, the five of them were still deep in the woods, surrounded only by plants and the sandy soil under their feet.
“Come to think of it, didn’t they just ask us to build a shelter? They didn’t specify how big or sturdy it needs to be, did they?” Lu Yiyao suddenly spoke up.
Ran Lin’s eyes lit up, instantly grasping Lu Yiyao’s idea. “A sandcastle!”
Lu Yiyao facepalmed, took several deep breaths, and then looked back at Ran Lin with his hopeful face. “A sandcastle that can accommodate five people and won’t collapse… Isn’t that technically challenging?”
Xia Xinran, following Lu Yiyao’s line of thought, envisioned a bleak future. “We’ll definitely end up buried alive…”
Zhang Beichen also doubted this idea. “The sand on this beach is quite coarse. If it’s too coarse, it might not stick together enough to make a sand sculpture, right?”
Gu Jie, holding an empty coconut, continued to sip the last few drops. He was more of a doer and not much into brainstorming.
Ran Lin knew he had guessed wrong the moment he saw Lu Yiyao facepalming. He was usually confident in understanding others, but with Lu Yiyao, he often missed the mark or failed to grasp his thoughts completely. He wondered whether it was because Lu Yiyao was too unpredictable, or perhaps they just lacked rapport.
“So… what exactly is your idea for building the shelter?” Ran Lin was certain that Lu Yiyao had a plan.
“Sandcastles won’t work,” Lu Yiyao said, “but we can build a tent with coconut leaves.”
For the next few minutes, they all huddled together as Lu Yiyao drew a diagram of the tent on the ground and explained patiently, “We can use pine branches for the frame. We’ll set up a few vertically and diagonally, then lay the coconut leaves over the frame to create a simple tent.”
Lu Yiyao looked around at his companions. Xia Xinran was the first to raise his hand. “Teacher Lu, I have a question.”
Lu Yiyao nodded. “Go ahead.”
Xia Xinran: “Can such a tent protect us from wind and rain?”
Lu Yiyao looked up at the bright sun. “Based on my observation, the chance of rain today is low, so we don’t need it to be waterproof, just to provide shade.”
Zhang Beichen, mimicking Xia Xinran, cheekily raised his hand. “Teacher Lu, I also have a question. The pine branches are limited in length. They’re fine vertically stuck in the sand, as we don’t need much height to sit inside, but if they’re short horizontally, how can we fit five people?”
Lu Yiyao didn’t see this as an issue. “We can build several tents. After all, there’s no rule saying we can only build one.”
Gu Jie: “What will we use to secure the branches together?”
Lu Yiyao: “I saw some vines earlier that can be used as ropes to tie the joints of the frame together.”
Gu Jie: “Ok, I have no more questions.”
Lu Yiyao nodded and looked at Ran Lin as if to say, “Everyone else has asked their questions. Aren’t you going to follow suit?” In all honesty, Ran Lin didn’t have many quirky questions. When Lu Yiyao said they could build a coconut leaf tent, he naturally believed Lu Yiyao had considered its feasibility and that it could be done.
He didn’t need a reason; that was just the trust Lu Yiyao instilled in him—no big talk, no empty words, no gimmicks. If he said it could be done, it could be done.
But since Lu Yiyao was expecting a question, Ran Lin didn’t want to let the moment pass in silence. “I thought you got lost when Gu Jie called earlier, and you took so long to come over. Turns out you were deep in research,” Ran Lin said, half-teasingly, half-admiringly. “You really know a lot. You’re quite awesome.”
Lu Yiyao wiped the sweat from his forehead, trying to smile naturally. “It’s nothing much.”
A good start is half the success. Under Teacher Lu’s guidance, the companions worked together: some gathered coconut leaves, others collected dry branches, and some pulled up vines. But as none of them were experts in outdoor survival, it took until after 10 in the morning to gather all the materials and bring them back to the beach.
Under Lu Yiyao’s leadership, they used the screwdriver or sharp stones to dig four small pits in the sandy soil at the beach, corresponding to the four corners of a square. They buried the thicker, straighter branches they had found into these pits, standing them up like trees.
The front two branches were taller, the back two shorter. Then, they used four more branches as horizontal beams, tying them at the tops of the vertical posts.
The branches had some flexibility, so those connecting the front and back beams of different heights needed to be bent to a certain degree before being tied.
Ran Lin tried tying the beams for a long time but couldn’t secure them tightly. Xia Xinran, working on another beam, was almost hit in the face by a rebounding branch.
Unable to watch any longer, Lu Yiyao put down his coconut leaves, took over the vines from Ran Lin, and started to help tie the beams. After securing that side, he moved silently to help Xia Xinran without a word.
Xia Xinran was astounded and lavished praise throughout the process.
Ran Lin noticed that Lu Yiyao wasn’t just all talk; he must have had experience camping outdoors. Even if he hadn’t built a leaf tent before, he had certainly done something similar.
After much effort, they finally secured the tent’s skeleton. The excited camping rookies clumsily covered the branch frame with the broad coconut leaves. In no time, a green, leafy shelter took shape. They all stood there for a moment, somewhat in disbelief that they had created this themselves.
Lu Yiyao was pleased, as he had initially thought he might have to do everything himself. But his companions learned quickly and were willing to exert effort. This feeling of working together on a task was something he hadn’t experienced in a long time, bringing back memories of his school days.
“Don’t just stand there,” Zhang Beichen reminded them. “Let’s get the rest done while we’re motivated.” They had gathered enough materials to build three to four small shelters.
“I think we should multitask.” Ran Lin had been thinking about this while building the tent. “We need to keep building the tents, but we should also start thinking about making a fire. Otherwise, once the tents are done, we’ll still have no food, which would be pitiful.”
Reminded by Ran Lin, everyone felt the emptiness in their stomachs. They hadn’t noticed it while busily constructing, but now that they stopped, they realized it was nearing noon, and the hasty breakfast they had eaten in the early morning had long been digested.
“I agree with the dual approach.” Gu Jie stretched his shoulders, ready to continue the construction with vigor. “But I can only help with building the tents. The grand task of creating fire out of thin air is up to you guys.”
“Don’t look at me. I wasn’t the one who suggested multitasking,” Zhang Beichen said, turning to Ran Lin. “You must have a method already, right?”
Ran Lin nodded, pondering for a moment, then suddenly turned to Lu Yiyao. “Don’t be modest now. How do we create fire out of thin air?”
Lu Yiyao: “……”
Feeling like even lying under his bed at home, he couldn’t escape being hit by a pot*. This was how Lu Yiyao felt at the moment.
*Metaphor referring to a situation where someone feels like they can’t escape misfortune or trouble, no matter where they are or what they do. It’s basically saying they have such bad luck that they feel as if they would get hit in the face with a pot/pan no matter what (even if it’s lying in bed).
Ran Lin’s convinced gaze seemed to say, “I know you can do it.”
He didn’t understand where Ran Lin’s confidence came from, and what was worse, he didn’t want to let him down.
“We can only try.” Lu Yiyao finally conceded.
Four pairs of curious eyes widened in anticipation. “How do we do it?”
Lu Yiyao gazed at the horizon and, after a long pause, confidently said, “Drilling wood to make fire.”
An hour later.
Gu Jie and Zhang Beichen had started building the third tent.
Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao had only just begun to smell a faint, burning scent.
Drilling wood to make fire was something Ran Lin had only learned about in textbooks and never imagined he’d have to apply in real life. He followed Lu Yiyao in picking up a palm-sized piece of wood and a small branch slightly thinner than a finger. Then he watched as Lu Yiyao used a screwdriver to carve a groove in the wood and sharpened the branch with a sharp stone for smoother rotation in the palm.
Lu Yiyao then stuffed some of the collected dry coconut palm fibers into the groove and laid more around and under the piece of wood, ready to ignite as soon as a spark landed.
Ran Lin helped a little under Lu Yiyao’s guidance, but most of the work was done by Lu Yiyao himself. However, Ran Lin observed attentively, especially when everything was ready and Lu Yiyao kneeled down, foot pressing one end of the wood block, hands clasped around the small branch inserted into the groove. Ran Lin held his breath in excitement, feeling like he was about to witness a miracle.
But then, there was no more “then”.
Lu Yiyao rapidly rubbed the small branch in his hands, causing it to frantically grind against the wood block and coconut fibers. Everything was flawless… except, it just wouldn’t ignite.
As time ticked away, Lu Yiyao’s speed gradually slowed, with large beads of sweat sliding down his face. Ran Lin’s emotions went on a rollercoaster ride from anticipation to confusion to pity.
So when they finally smelled the burnt odor, they couldn’t even get excited.
But the fully immersed Lu Yiyao didn’t notice. He didn’t even feel the passage of time; his focus was entirely on the groove, determined to recreate the glory of his human ancestors.
Another hour passed.
Gu Jie and Zhang Beichen, having finished all the tents, lay exhausted and hungry inside, somewhat comforted by the pleasant sea breeze and the scent of coconut leaves. They could hold on for a while.
But Xia Xinran wasn’t so strong.
He had circled the red plastic bucket about eight hundred times, watching the seafood transition from lively to nearly lifeless. If it weren’t for the water in the bucket, they might have been wind-dried.
Lu Yiyao was also exhausted, a fact that Ran Lin could clearly see. But he could also tell that Lu Yiyao wasn’t ready to give up. Not wanting to interrupt, Ran Lin silently stayed by his side.
Ran Lin admired those who were serious.
Lu Yiyao might not have Xia Xinran’s variety show flair, achieving 120% effect with only 40% effort, nor was he as easygoing as Gu Jie, who was talkative when happy and cold when not, nor as adaptable as Zhang Beichen, who could blend in easily with anyone. But Lu Yiyao had his charm. He adhered strictly to rules, was dedicated to tasks, and took responsibility for what he committed to.
Having someone like this in a team was a fortune. As Ran Lin was lost in these thoughts, a wisp of smoke finally appeared—the coconut palm fibers, after a long struggle, began to smolder!
Ran Lin’s eyes widened in surprise, looking incredulously at the smoke and then at Lu Yiyao. “It’s lit!”
Lu Yiyao finally relaxed, his whole demeanor radiating a sense of triumph. He quickly dropped the small branch, leaned down, and gently blew air on the smoldering coconut fibers.
Ran Lin instantly realized they needed wind to turn the spark into a flame. He also leaned down, blowing alongside Lu Yiyao. “Hoo—”
The coconut fibers, lifted by the smoke, mercilessly scattered in the air, drifting towards the shoreline. The wood block settled back into quietness, leaving only some charred remains.
Lu Yiyao looked at Ran Lin in shock, his eyes filled with immense sadness, as if let down by a cruel world. Ran Lin swallowed hard: “Actually, I think… we don’t necessarily need fire… Uh, do you like sashimi?”
Lu Yiyao closed his eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and then repeated the process. Finally, he managed to suppress the devilish urge to strangle the other person and forced a smile. “I’m not a fan of raw food, but for survival, I can make do.”
In the end, the five stars didn’t end up eating sashimi.
The director, unable to bear it any longer, had a change of heart and slightly modified the script. For example, when you’re stranded on a deserted island, you happen to have sunscreen and a lighter in your pocket…
By the time they finally ate the “seafood feast”, it was three in the afternoon. The five stars gathered around the bonfire, feasting as if they could even crunch the shells if their teeth were strong enough.
Ran Lin wanted to strike up a conversation with Lu Yiyao several times but couldn’t find the right opportunity. He was also somewhat apprehensive in his heart, feeling that the foolish things he had done deserved to be punished by being beaten 36,000 times with a spiked club in a cactus patch.
Just as Lu Yiyao finished another shrimp and Ran Lin was about to offer to fetch more, his eyes fixated on Lu Yiyao’s hands. The palms were reddened.
Being so close, Ran Lin could see clearly: they were blistered from the friction.
After persistently rubbing a small branch against one’s palm for over two hours, even the toughest hands would blister. Ran Lin recalled times when he had to wear ill-fitting shoes for work appointments, resulting in painful blisters after just half a day. But Lu Yiyao, it seemed, had blisters and just kept going, eventually rubbing them raw.
Rubbing against raw skin like that must be incredibly painful.
Yet Lu Yiyao acted as if nothing was wrong, not mentioning it at all.
Even if he had let the follow-cam capture this, he surely would have gained sympathy from the audience. Ran Lin didn’t believe that Lu Yiyao was unaware of this tactic. After all, when replying to his Weibo @mentions, Lu Yiyao had always been quite savvy.
The only explanation was that Lu Yiyao didn’t like to play the sympathy card—tactics were fine, but playing the victim was not.
In just one day, Ran Lin felt like he had seen many different sides of Lu Yiyao.
And the more he observed, the more interesting he found him.
Lu Yiyao had been enduring for a long time. No one likes being covertly observed while eating, and the guy sitting next to him seemed to take a couple of bites, then sneak a peek this way, as if the seafood was too bland and he needed Lu Yiyao to spice it up.
The frustration from the unsuccessful fire-making had mostly dissipated with a full stomach. Moreover, Lu Yiyao knew that Ran Lin meant well.
Not to mention, just the fact that Ran Lin had dryly accompanied him for two hours was enough to show his goodwill.
If it were Xia Xinran, he would have gone to sleep in the leaf shelter long ago.
But that didn’t mean Ran Lin could take liberties with him, appearing relentless as if Lu Yiyao were some kind of delicacy!
“You…”
“How come you know so much?”
Lu Yiyao was ready to confront him, but his opponent took the initiative with a genuinely inquisitive question that would make it awkward to respond with any annoyance.
“Cough.” Clearing his throat, Lu Yiyao answered truthfully, “I joined the scouts in middle school, where these skills were essential. Later in college, I would occasionally go camping with friends, which was cheaper than traveling.”
“Oh, right.” Ran Lin remembered. “You studied abroad.”
Lu Yiyao nodded and didn’t elaborate further.
Ran Lin didn’t plan to pry into too much personal information. His curiosity was about other things, like, “Have you ever encountered bears while camping?”
Lu Yiyao was dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”
Ran Lin returned the gaze calmly. “Of course, I’m just joking.”
Lu Yiyao was bewildered, suddenly feeling stupid for seriously recalling past experiences.
Ran Lin couldn’t contain his amusement, finding that teasing Lu Yiyao was even more interesting than teasing Xia Xinran.
Ran Lin had a beautiful smile, pure and refreshing, like the sunshine in spring. It wasn’t too hot or too cold—just the right temperature that made one feel comfortable inside.
As a fellow male artist, Lu Yiyao had to admit that he couldn’t achieve this. He could smile handsomely, gently, charmingly, coldly, and many other ways as photographers or directors required. But this particular smile he couldn’t replicate.
It was unique to Ran Lin, just like Xia Xinran’s beautiful arrogance, Gu Jie’s individualism, and Zhang Beichen’s vibrant energy. These were their personal trademarks, impossible for others to imitate naturally.
Lu Yiyao’s thoughts drifted back to the behind-the-scenes footage and the unpleasant comments underneath. He wondered whether those replies were genuinely misled by the footage, simply disliked Ran Lin, or were just venting frustration. But after spending the day with Ran Lin, he felt more confident in his judgment that the statement was just a joke between Ran Lin and Zhang Beichen.
He didn’t even need to wait for the full program to air to be sure of this.
Because the fans and netizens only saw a snippet of footage, while he had actually interacted with Ran Lin for two and a half episodes. Even though they were mostly just background to each other for two episodes, he had watched how Ran Lin interacted with others, including his temperament and personality.
Of course, it was possible that all these were just a facade, that his real temperament wasn’t so good, and his personality wasn’t so straightforward. But at least for these two and a half episodes, he had been diligently participating in the program, sometimes even helping with tasks that others were reluctant to do. Just for that, he shouldn’t be judged harshly.
Lu Yiyao appreciated those who were dedicated to their work and was critical of his own emotional behavior in the first two episodes. So seeing Ran Lin being ridiculed for the same dedication made him feel uncomfortable.
“Teacher Lu…”
A soft call brought Lu Yiyao back from his thoughts. Looking up, it was Ran Lin who had called him. “Teacher Lu” was a nickname he had earned that day, given unilaterally by his peers in appreciation of his significant contribution.
Expecting Ran Lin to ask about camping or related knowledge, Lu Yiyao cleaned his hands and sat up straight, ready to answer seriously. “Yes?”
Ran Lin leaned in, staring intently at him. “I’ve been wanting to ask since this morning. Why do I always feel that the way you look at me today… is full of sympathy?”
One of the four joys of life is meeting an old friend in a foreign land.
Qian Ai quickly undid the chain lock, opened the door wide, and hugged each of his old classmates. Each hug lasted for dozens of seconds, filled with genuine affection.
Xu Wang was almost choked by his tight embrace, and after finally being released, he scrutinized Qian Ai up and down. Then, marveling at Qian Ai’s nearly 1.9 meters tall and burly figure, he commented, “I remember you standing in the front row in high school, taking the cute route. This drastic transformation is quite impressive.”
“You could say I got fat!” Qian Ai laughed heartily. “Back then, I had a big appetite, only gaining weight without growing taller. But once I got to university, I started shooting up. My legs kept stretching every night, and I couldn’t get a single night of peaceful sleep!” As he spoke, he ushered them inside. “Don’t just stand at the door talking. Come in, come in.”
Once inside, Xu Wang realized there was no one else there. It was just a selfie stick holding up a phone, in front of which several local delicacies were spread out on a table. The overwhelming aroma was simply enticing.
After closing the door, Qian Ai hurried back to the phone to give a final update. “That’s it for today, folks. Coming across old classmates while traveling is too rare. I owe you a proper treat. We’ll continue eating tomorrow!”
Xu Wang finally understood what his old classmate was up to and exchanged a knowing look with Wu Sheng.
The latter understood immediately. “Food vlogger.”
Watching Qian Ai quickly end the live stream, Xu Wang felt a bit guilty. “Is this alright? Won’t you lose followers?”
“Yo, you’re well-informed.” Qian Ai laughed, sitting down on the bed, tossing the blanket aside. “The premise for losing followers is having them in the first place. I’m not worried about that, haha.”
He laughed, his eyes squinting, somewhat resembling his rounder appearance from the past.
“But speaking of capability,” Qian Ai turned to Wu Sheng, as if reconfirming. “I’ve changed so much, and you still recognize me instantly?”
Wu Sheng shrugged naturally. “How else would I have been class monitor?”
A complex look flashed in Qian Ai’s eyes. “Class Monitor, you really haven’t changed at all.”
Wu Sheng agreed. “So it’s understandable if we didn’t recognize you, but you not recognizing us is puzzling.”
Qian Ai felt quite wronged. “In the middle of the night, two men knocking at the door in a place I’m unfamiliar with, I was all on alert. How could I have the mind to notice whether you two were round or flat. What if our eyes met and it became a ‘What are you looking at? You looking at me?’ situation? That would be an unwarranted disaster.”
“Do you need to be that cautious?” Xu Wang said exasperatedly. “With your size, who would dare to start something?”
“When you’re away from home, you have to be careful,” Qian Ai stated matter-of-factly, then belatedly realizing, his puzzled gaze shifted between Wu Sheng and Xu Wang. “You two… are traveling together?”
Xu Wang was at a loss for words. A mere complaint about noise had led to a reunion with an old classmate!
“Well, it’s not just us two. There’s… my aunt’s son.” Xu Wang fibbed, feeling cornered. “He’s on holiday and wants to travel. His parents were busy, so I volunteered.”
“What school has holidays in November…” Qian Ai mumbled but didn’t press further, more intrigued by another question. “You took your cousin out and brought Class Monitor for company? What’s this combination?”
“We met in Beijing, and he also wanted to get out for a bit, so we traveled together.” One lie led to another, and Xu Wang felt increasingly guilty, especially as Qian Ai warmly welcomed them.
Qian Ai didn’t doubt them, looking at them and then back at Wu Sheng with a mix of nostalgia and envy in his eyes. “You two were always inseparable back then. After so long, it’s good to see you’re still close.”
“Close or not,” Wu Sheng sighed, a hint of melancholy in his eyes, “depends on how you look at it…”
Xu Wang felt uneasy, unsure of what Wu Sheng would say next. To regain control of the conversation, he quickly changed the subject. “Love Money, what brings you here?”
Caught off guard, Qian Ai hesitated before picking up his phone and waving it. “I’ve recently ventured into a new industry. My ID is ‘Lao Qian Eats Across China’, so I have to walk the talk and put in the effort.”
“Eating across China?” Xu Wang caught the seriousness in his words. “Are you really planning to make this a career?”
Qian Ai nodded solemnly. “Live to eat, eat until old*.”
*Clarity: He’s referring to the proverb: Live until old, learn until old, or better translated, one is never too old to learn (活到老学到老). This idiom refers to the idea that learning is a lifelong process, and one should never stop no matter their age. Qian Ai has replaced the learn, with eat instead, so basically changing it along the lines of “keep eating even after I’m old” (basically his forever ongoing pursuit to eating… instead of learning).
Xu Wang laughed. “Ah, that fits one of your old personas.”
“One of them?” Qian Ai asked, “What’s the other?”
Xu Wang replied, “Loving money.”
Qian Ai seized the opportunity to protest. “Traits like that are more charming when hidden. You always bring it up; it makes me look shallow!”
“Hidden or not, a trait is still a trait.” Xu Wang pointed out yet indulged his old friend. “So what should I call you from now on? Qian Ai? Sounds too formal…”
“Just call me Lao* Qian,” Qian Ai grinned. “That’s what my fans call me. It’s friendly!”
*Old (老) When used as a form of address, it shows familiarity, affection, or respect. This is usually used for people who are older, higher rank, or between close friends.
“…Okay.” Xu Wang acquiesced, feeling as if he’d unwittingly become a fan.
When old classmates meet, there are always endless topics to talk about, but time waits for no one. As 11:30 p.m. passed, Xu Wang could no longer hold back and excused himself, citing his “cousin”.
Fortunately, Qian Ai didn’t insist on them staying.
Returning to their room, Kuang Jinxin was still asleep. Xu Wang nodded in admiration before pulling back the blanket and gently waking him. “Brother, time to get up—”
In this situation, Kuang Jinxin woke up in a daze, while Wu Sheng had already confirmed the distance between the hotel and the coordinates. “It’s less than two kilometers. We just need to head north once we get in.”
Xu Wang had already put his down jacket back on, looking out the window and sincerely hoping, “I hope we don’t encounter any more bears.”
Finally fully awake, Kuang Jinxin quickly dressed and took out three bags of fish filets from his backpack, pocketing one for himself and handing the other two to Xu Wang and Wu Sheng. “In case we encounter them again, we’ll tear these up and throw them into the air as a Fishnado!”
Xu Wang and Wu Sheng pocketed the fish filets, the former hesitating to speak, the latter bluntly replying, “We should keep these for ourselves to eat.”
23:59:00
The three companions, having exhausted all idle conversation, watched the time on their phones, quietly waiting for midnight.
“Thump, thump—”
The unanticipated midnight knock sounded more terrifying than an owl’s hoot.
The trio, startled to their core, felt their hearts racing with fear and guilt.
“Thump, thump—”
“Are the kids there—”
It was the voice of the front desk lady who had checked them in during the day.
Xu Wang was the first to react, rushing to the door and pretending to be half asleep, lazily replying, “We’re here, already asleep. What’s up?”
“Don’t fool me. The folks upstairs called the front desk saying your room has been noisy, keeping everyone awake!”
Xu Wang held his forehead, realizing they had been chatting while waiting for the past half hour, but it was really the hotel’s poor soundproofing that was to blame!
“Hoot hoot—”
Midnight.
The Owl’s hoot came from afar, eerie and chilling, like a call from the underworld.
Behind them, a purple light shone; without looking, Xu Wang knew the “entrance” had opened. This made him panic, frantically searching for excuses to deal with the situation outside, but the more anxious he became, the more confused.
The lady outside, unaware of the situation inside, noticed the sudden silence. Usually, such quiet means either “guilt” or “fear”. She immediately became cautious. “Hey, you kids aren’t up to no good in there at night, are you?”
“How could we.” Xu Wang, throwing caution to the wind, replied with all sincerity, “We promise not to make another peep and won’t disturb anyone around us!”
But the lady was clearly unconvinced and started knocking on the door again. “Open up!”
This was a private hotel, and from the demeanor, Xu Wang strongly suspected the lady outside was the proprietress. But it didn’t matter if it was the proprietress or the boss; in a few seconds, they were going to be sucked away. They couldn’t just open the door… Wait. Xu Wang suddenly realized he was trapped in a fallacy. Why couldn’t they let someone see them entering the “Owl”? They might not be able to call the police, but someone who saw them being sucked in might!
Changing his mind, Xu Wang was about to open the door when a sudden, intense headache stopped him, as if his head was exploding!
He had never felt such bone-deep pain before, and it brought him to his knees, clutching his head, wishing for death.
“Xu Wang!” Wu Sheng, not understanding what was going on, suddenly changed his expression and immediately crouched down to check, but just as he bent his knees, a whirlwind started above his head, sucking him, Xu Wang, and Jin Xin standing nearby into a purple vortex!
The time on the phone that had fallen to the ground read—00:02:00.
After a dizzying spin, the trio finally landed.
The headache was gone, leaving only a lingering discomfort, but the dizziness brought on nausea.
Suddenly, someone pulled Xu Wang up, and then he heard Wu Sheng’s voice, which sounded both disdainful and concerned. “What’s wrong with you?”
“My head hurts,” Xu Wang replied weakly, still not recovered from the ordeal.
Wu Sheng, recalling Xu Wang’s painful expression just before they were dragged in, instantly understood. “Did you want the front desk to see us being sucked in?”
Xu Wang nodded, his eyes reflecting frustration.
“It’s useless. If the Owl can prevent Sun Jiang and Xiao Jin from calling the police, it can surely stop you from opening the door…” Wu Sheng mused, then his tone shifted subtly. “But if we suddenly disappear and there’s no response from inside, she’ll know something’s wrong even through the door. I wonder if the ‘Owl’ can handle that.”
If Xu Wang had listened carefully and observed, he would have seen Wu Sheng’s expression resembling that of tackling a difficult question in high school. The harder the problem, the more spirited Wu Sheng became. This thrill of tackling tough questions was beyond Xu Wang’s understanding.
But at that moment, Xu Wang wasn’t paying attention to Classmate Wu. All his thoughts were on his arm—[(Defense) Circular Ground Prison] and [(Offense) Cao Chong Weighing the Elephant] were still there in his [Stationery Box].
His initially elevated heart slowly calmed down, but he was still puzzled. According to Kuang Jinxin and Sun Jiang, they tried to reveal the “Owl’s” secret by calling the police, thus the headache, and then they entered the Owl, and their [Stationery Box] was emptied. So why, when he had the thought of confessing to Qian Ai and also experienced a headache, were his items still there?
Before he could figure it out, he heard Kuang Jinxin mutter, “Xu Ge, Wu Ge, this place…is weird.”
Xu Wang and Wu Sheng instinctively looked around, just as perplexed as Kuang Jinxin.
Transparent floor-to-ceiling windows, a dense steel structured dome, bustling crowd, and rows of check-in counters. There were no snowfields or black bears—this was an ordinary airport, with comfortable air conditioning and smiling flight attendants.
Xu Wang rubbed his eyes repeatedly, finally having to accept that he wasn’t mistaken, and then asked his teammates in bewilderment, “Are the four of us in the ‘Owl’ or… Huh? The four of us?”
Something felt off to Xu Wang. He silently counted in his mind: Wu Sheng, Kuang Jinxin, Qian Ai, himself. Right, four people, but it seemed like it shouldn’t be these four…
“Lao Qian?!” Xu Wang finally noticed something was amiss, mainly because Qian Ai was standing right next to Kuang Jinxin. His posture and even the expression on his face was too natural, like a “Big White Mian” mixed in with a bunch of “Big White Rabbits”*—completely harmonious.
*Clarity: So the analogy here is that Qian Ai acted so normally inside the Owl among them that Xu Wang thought he was really part of the team before carefully analyzing it again, just like how Big White Mian (大白免) can easily get mixed in without being noticed among Big White Rabbits (大白兔). The [mian] (免) and rabbit (兔) are the same character except rabbit has a small dot in it.
How should a tall knight’s body, fully clad in armor, be transported?
If the knight lay in a coffin, there would be too many complications. Entering any city would require the knight’s identification, territorial proof, and an officially notarized inventory of belongings to ensure it wasn’t a ploy by some malicious people to stir up trouble or transport stolen goods.
Especially since the armor of the War King’s brother was ancient and elegant, adorned with rubies arranged in a bloodstain pattern on the metal, obviously very valuable. Seeing such a knight, the guards would definitely need to contact the territory through a communication crystal.
Thus, for Players to fulfill [The Ancient Knight’s Last Wish] normally, they basically couldn’t enter cities or stay anywhere casually—whether they disguised themselves as a funeral procession or disguised the body as oversized luggage, it meant thieves could profit.
However, if the knight stood on his own, there were no prohibitions. He just needed a forged identity.
Like now, Abandon had arranged a stay in advance, and the group, under the name of the “Aquinas family”, checked into the best rooms of an inn.
This place was at the border of Shiva and New Gemino. With recent Demon King activities, the number of visitors had dwindled, so even the servants got double rooms.
The dead knight stood in the courtyard, motionless, watching the night fall.
“Is it okay to let that guy stand there?” Abandon leaned against the window. “The gems on him are dazzling. Someone might get greedy…”
Sharing a room with him was the siren boy. Abandon, curious about his first encounter with a creature from Paradise, started a conversation.
The siren completely ignored him.
He glanced at the sky, instinctively placing his hand on his chest, as if to gesture something. The next second, he frowned in distress, and his hand reluctantly fell back.
Throughout the journey, the siren boy had been moody. His eyes were always slightly swollen, often lost in thought and not listening, sometimes staring blankly and shedding tears.
Abandon wondered why the Master of Paradise would bring such a person. The boy’s curse magic was indeed stunning, but he was still too young—look how immature his heart was!
“Hey, if someone really gets greedy, don’t worry.” Abandon patted his chest. “I’m a Ranger, after all. At this close distance, I’ll be the first to notice! So don’t worry. Staying with me is safe.”
Siren Fischer looked at him as if he were a fool.
After silently watching Abandon for a few seconds, he turned his face away, not uttering a word.
Ah, the teenage years. Abandon consoled himself internally, continuing to gaze at the knight outside the window.
As night deepened, the knight no longer needed an umbrella.
The spot where the knight stood was the inn’s garden, filled with herbs, vegetables, and beautiful shrubs.
The grass at the knight’s boots was green, with a few small white flowers gently swaying. The stars shone brightly, and the four moons scattered across the sky. All living things thrived, and thinking of the knight’s death, Abandon felt a pang of sadness.
Better to make some buttered potatoes for a late-night snack. Since a while ago, he had been smelling the tantalizing aroma of barbecue, which was irresistible.
In the room upstairs of Abandon’s room.
Teest lay by the window, with two pieces of grilled veal on a plate beside him. It was covered in spices, their steam melting into the air.
He ate the meat absentmindedly, gazing at the undead knight in the garden.
“Does he still think?” Teest asked distractedly.
“Not much left.” Nol, reading <A Hundred Years of Business in Tahe> by the bedside, replied, “He’s been dead too long. He probably only has instincts left—maybe a bit of basic language ability.”
“Oh, how sad,” Teest said. “No wonder ‘resurrecting ancestors through necromancy’ isn’t popular.”
Nol closed his book. “Death is irreversible. In our world, someone who’s just died might be revived, but if the body has decayed, it’s hopeless.”
In fact, whether on Earth or Tahe, trying to do something after death, no matter how much one clung to it, would only lead to “continual loss”.
In comparison, his system management was much more efficient—there was hope as long as one was alive.
How the system acquired such a function, Nol wondered, tossing the book aside and crawling into bed first.
The inn’s bedding was quite clean, but Nol still cast a few purification and drying spells on it for safety. Now, with the outside cold and the bedding warm and fluffy, it provided a rare sense of comfort.
Seeing Nol lie down, Mr. Teest seemed to receive a signal. He quickly finished the veal, brushed his teeth at the speed of light, and then dove into Nol’s bed, bringing a chill with him.
He left a warm, moist kiss on Nol’s forehead. Nol smelled the scent of mint toothpaste.
He turned his back as usual, closing his eyes.
Teest’s hand slid along his waist, holding Nol tightly. With his back against Teest’s chest, Nol could feel the other’s heartbeat and the hard wedding ring on his chest.
This had become their standard sleeping posture.
Not because Nol was indifferent, but simply because of one reason—
Day by day, Teest held him tighter. His arms occasionally adjusted their position, and sometimes even his legs came over.
Nol didn’t know how outrageous the Mad Monk’s religious methods were. He only knew that, as a healthy young man sharing a bed with someone he liked, he found it hard not to react.
Refreshing before sleep, refreshing in the morning, healthy and decent. He was almost used to it.
Thank the ecology of undead monsters!
Nol shifted in the warm chest, closing his eyes peacefully. The boiling blood disappeared into the void, and he soon fell asleep.
Teest nuzzled Nol’s light golden hair, sniffing softly.
It was a comforting scent, but he couldn’t sleep peacefully. He had achieved his goal—their relationship was now in balance.
He believed even if he changed the overly intimate morning and evening prayers, Nol would have no objections.
But he didn’t want to change.
Teest shifted his arm. Their skin was separated only by a thin layer of fabric. Nol’s warmth permeated unobstructed, making the bed too hot.
As an experienced adult, he understood what the restlessness meant, but it shouldn’t be happening!
Teest moved closer in confusion, lightly kissing Nol’s nape through his hair.
He kissed slowly and carefully, a soft strand of hair sticking to his lips.
Before, they had indeed had accidental intimate moments, but those were during intimate actions. Teest didn’t mind, casually attributing it to “normal physiological reactions”.
Now, Nol was sleeping peacefully, breathing as light as falling leaves, more harmless than the silver knife he just washed.
Teest lay wide-eyed in the dark, recalling his not-so-long life—
Even as a Mad Monk, he occasionally found something “likable”, like a cute cat, on the street.
To him, there was no difference between the two. The Mad Monk wasn’t crazy enough to want anything with a cat, just as he had no similar impulses towards “others”.
Normally, such desires shouldn’t exist in faith, right?
Teest shockingly realized his adolescence had arrived a decade late.
Holding Nol, he lay restlessly, waiting for the heat to fade. Nearly an hour later, unable to bear it, he crawled out of the bed, shivering in the cold air.
“Ah.” Teest sighed towards the shadows, heading to the bathroom.
Shadow Wolf Ben heard the movement. Thinking it was time for a nighttime walk, it poked its head out happily, its mouth fur still greasy from veal.
“Go back.” Teest tapped its nose, leaving the puzzled wolf outside.
When Teest emerged from the room again, he was damp. He wiped water droplets on the shadow wolf’s fur, looking at the bed for a long time.
After another sigh of confusion, Teest opened the window, leaping lightly onto the grass. Finally, he tightened the golden threads on the window, keeping the cold air out.
He approached the War King’s brother, the statue-like undead knight.
At midnight, the moonlight was exceptionally bright. The garden was fragrant, and the starry sky was so breathtaking that even Teest stopped to admire it.
“Watching the moon?” Teest glanced at the undead knight, tossing a word without hope.
“…Moon.” The knight repeated in a vague, hoarse voice. “I remember… the moon.”
“Well, aren’t you amazing.”
“Three more moons.” The long-dead knight murmured to himself. “Why… more?”
Teest’s eyebrows twitched. “What do you mean?”
“My brother once… showed me the full moon…” the knight said. “We stood under… one moon—no… four moons…?”
More incomprehensible ramblings followed.
Sure enough, this dead man was confused.
The War King’s territory wasn’t near the Dragon’s Lair. How could there be only one moon?
“You really do miss your brother.”
Teest took a deep breath in the chilly night, continuing to admire the stars. “Do you know your brother killed you? Not only that, he didn’t fulfill your last wish, and now we have to do it for him.”
He spoke without any psychological pressure—the Mad Monk had little sympathy for the living, let alone the dead.
“……” The undead knight was silent for a long time.
“I remember…” he said.
“The consequences of loyalty.” Teest shrugged.
The knight looked up at the sky with him. He removed his ridiculous sunglasses. The blue fire was burning steadily in his helmet.
“It’s not… like this…” he hissed. “I have no regrets…”
Teest pinched his frozen ears and raised his eyebrows.
The knight struggled to twist his neck, turning the face hidden under the helmet towards Teest. Although the helmet only revealed two blue lights, it emitted an unusually peaceful aura.
“You are… a knight…” he said.
“So what?” Teest replied.
“You understand…” the undead knight murmured dreamily. “When the time comes… you’ll understand…”
Teest: “……”
‘Forget it. Better not to communicate with the dead,’ Teest thought. He blew into the cold wind for a while longer, then slipped back under the covers with a chill. Before closing his eyes, he glanced at the moonlight on the bedside.
The long-dead knight, perhaps still gazing at the moon, chewed on his scant past.
Teest curled up under the blanket while his arm hovered over Nol for a long time, finally gently covering Nol’s hand with his palm.
Nol frowned slightly, murmuring “Teest.” Unknowingly, he turned over and embraced Teest. The latter’s body stiffened, then relaxed, his breathing evening out.
Shadow Wolf Ben emerged from the shadows, curiously watching the two for a while. Then it shrank in size and curled up at the foot of the bed.
The pitch-black wolf fur completely covered the window, leaving only a gentle darkness in the room.
Above their room, in the so-called “noble young master’s” room, things were different.
It was significantly larger than the servants’ quarters, with unnecessary tassels decorating the bedding. Anakin, still in her daytime clothes, had fallen asleep on the bed. “Young Master” Solo lay on the sofa, hugging a pillow, snoring, with half-eaten grapes on the side table.
The watch for the night was voluntarily taken up by former Pope Painter.
Painter glanced at the undead knight downstairs, then silently closed the curtains and sat back at the desk. He set up a one-way sound barrier around him and pulled out a fist-sized communication crystal from his waist bag.
“Captain!” “Ah, it’s the captain!” “Are you alright, captain?”
As soon as the communication connected, a wave of noisy greetings came from the other side. Painter instinctively moved away from the crystal, as if spit could cross through the magic.
“How are you all doing?” he asked with a smile.
“We separated from Paradise! Those guys went back to the Lost Tower.”
“Yes, yes, a Puppet Witch sister came to greet us and gave us a bunch of supplies, even sweet fruit wine. Little Darby’s eyes were glued! Captain, let me tell you, all those outside propagandas are bullshit. Paradise is really generous.”
“We plan to roam around the Black Forest again. The monsters here are too fat—”
“Fuck you, Kenny, don’t spit on me! I’m talking to the captain!!!”
Another wave of noisy chatter ensued.
The former Pope shook his head helplessly. “Everything is going smoothly here. Oh, about the investigation into Enbillick Alva…”
“Oh, oh.”
A young voice, sounding like a teenager, came closer. “The Golden Sword hasn’t made any special moves recently. Captain, are you overthinking? Maybe he just wanted to invite you to dinner that day.”
“As a shrewd businessman, he shouldn’t bring someone as dangerous as me to his wife and children.” Painter said calmly, “I just want to make sure whether Enbillick’s target is me or those two with me.”
“Silly squirrel, what are you thinking? How could someone like the ‘Golden Sword’ casually entertain people?”
“I’ll keep investigating!” the boy called “Squirrel” quickly said.
“Don’t worry, kid. You might want to pay more attention to Eternal Day City.”
Painter smiled and advised, “With the fall of The Manor, the Alva Merchant Group must be paying close attention.”
“Okay, okay, sir! No, captain!” The boy spoke rapidly, eliciting a wave of good-natured laughter.
“Everyone, stay safe. It’s best not to approach the depths of the Black Forest without me.” At this point, Painter’s voice became serious. “I can feel something wrong with Brick Shadow. During this special period, everyone should be careful.”
The Drifting Mercenaries chattered for a while longer, discussing their impressions of the various monsters in Paradise, and debating whether tonight’s stew was salty or bland and who grabbed the most.
Painter listened intently, smiling.
“By the way, this ‘God Selection’ has ended,” finally, a cheerful voice said. “Captain, none of us drew the divine lot. You’re the ‘God’ this time!”
“Really, I swear we didn’t tamper with it! We can make an honesty oath!” another female voice interjected.
“So you have to come back and get the divine statue,” the cheerful voice added. “We pray for your safety!”
“Haha, I will definitely fulfill everyone’s wishes.” Painter winked at the communication crystal and cut off the connection.
Outside the window, the moonlight flowed quietly. Painter stood up, stretching his shoulders and waist.
“Paradise influences the system, the Mad Monk and his God,” he muttered. “Golden Sword must have smelled something. Eugene hasn’t reacted yet. Interesting… Isn’t there a corresponding oracle in the Temple?”
As he said “oracle”, a flicker of scorn flashed in his green eyes.
……
Hot Ash withdrew his gaze from the night sky.
The nights in Brick Shadow were more unbearable than the days. The night sky here was a brownish-red color, like rotten blood. No stars were visible, and the four moons were blurry and seemed more distant than usual.
The entire team felt as if they were swallowed by a monster. Everything was dark and damp, surrounded by murky red.
The nearby magic was too chaotic, preventing direct communication with the people from Amazon. They could only send messages via pure audio. Now, they had been sending out distress signals for half a day, but there was still no response from Amazon.
Giving up easily wasn’t Hot Ash’s style, nor was sitting idly by. He immediately ordered the Saints Guild to establish a base and sent the best scouts to explore, moving forward at a slow jog.
Hot Ash, unable to sleep, squatted outside the tent, drinking strong coffee, waiting for the night-shift scout to report.
A figure approached from the woods. Hot Ash put down his cup and stood up to greet him.
The shadow approached faster, and Hot Ash’s steps slowed. He recognized the silhouette of weapons and equipment from the figure, but…
…But the “human” shape itself, wasn’t it a bit strange?
Hot Ash made a snap decision. He drew his sword and activated the camp alarm.
Amidst the shrill alarm, the figure finally revealed his face—it was indeed a scout from the Saints Guild, with strikingly individualistic hair and eye color, bright deep green paired with light green.
At this moment, Hot Ash could only recognize the person’s hair and eye color.
The man seemed to be melting.
The skin of his exposed arms had turned a corrupted black, surrounded by a massive amount of corruption clinging to him and spreading wildly over his body.
The scout’s facial features were distorted, like a roughly pulled clay figure. Hot Ash saw a plea for help and despair in his eyes.
No, this wasn’t right. Such bizarre corruption had never occurred before!
Since entering the game, the Saints Guild had long fought against corrupted monsters, and injuries from corruption weren’t uncommon. To the Players, a corrupted wound simply took longer to heal and required powerful purification magic. They always considered it some kind of stubborn curse.
It could at most cause deformities in the natives, but such phenomena had never happened to Players.
“Priest—!” Hot Ash shouted, sheathing his sword and raising his shield. “We need a high-level priest here!”
As he spoke, a mottled and distorted system popup flew in front of him. It was surrounded by error-like mosaics with blurred writing, and the originally clean blue was now muddied with reddish-brown.
The popup flickered wildly, appearing both far and near, leaving countless error-like afterimages in the air.
[You have triggered the %#@ event.]
[You have triggered the %￥@ mission: The Corrupt False God.]
Ever since the promotional clips and behind-the-scenes footage were released, Ran Lin was recognized more frequently on the streets. Setting aside the subtle public opinion tendencies of the behind-the-scenes footage, which had just come out today, most fans and passersby still saw Ran Lin as the clean-cut young man from the promotional video.
Although all were called “National First Love”, only Ran Lin and Zhang Beichen still retained a youthful vibe to this day. Xia Xinran wasn’t a beautiful youth but a beauty, with his looks overshadowing his age; Lu Yiyao was a mature, romantic man—someone you could rely on; Gu Jie, on the other hand, seemed ready to carry you straight to the civil affairs bureau to register for marriage.
Yet, even within their youthful vigor, Ran Lin and Zhang Beichen differed. The former was like the quiet boy next door, with a touch of freshness, while the latter was more like a sporty senior, handsome with an energetic upward vibe.
Therefore, when the promotional video was released, even though Ran Lin was ridiculed openly and secretly by the fans of the other four stars, to unbiased passersby, he seemed quite fitting for the image of a first love.
Thanks to the rising attention, Wang Xi wanted Ran Lin to maintain the image from the promotional video in the minds of the audience and fans until the program officially aired. So, during this period, she minimized his public exposure and naturally prevented too many candid photos from circulating—finally, Ran Lin got to experience flying first-class for the first time.
After passing through security, there was still half an hour until boarding. The Capital Airport was still bustling in the evening. Ran Lin, wearing a cap and a mask, quickly followed Wang Xi into the VIP lounge.
This time, in addition to Liu Wanwan, Wang Xi also brought a makeup artist and a few others, expanding their team compared to the previous two episodes. Except for Ran Lin, everyone else had economy class tickets. Wang Xi was special; as a frequent flyer and a gold card member, she could enjoy the VIP lounge like Ran Lin in first class, while the rest waited in the hall near the boarding gate after passing security.
The VIP lounge was sparse and quiet. In the spacious area, there were stylishly arranged armchairs, sofas, modern small coffee tables, and various plants. A few business-dressed travelers were scattered about, reading or working on laptops in silence.
At Wang Xi’s request, the well-trained staff led them to the back of the lounge, a semi-enclosed space separated by a row of bookshelves, which Wang Xi thought was quieter.
However, as soon as they rounded the bookshelves, Ran Lin saw Lu Yiyao sitting on the sofa behind them. Hearing the noise, Lu Yiyao looked up. Their eyes met, and both were momentarily bewildered.
Wang Xi, who hadn’t seen Lu Yiyao to her right, kept her head high and straight ahead as she passed the bookshelves. So, the first person she noticed was Yao Hong, who was about to leave to go to the restroom.
“Well, isn’t it Hong Jie?”
Wang Xi’s voice wasn’t loud, sounding like a polite greeting in a public place. But Ran Lin could tell it wasn’t the usual indifferent Wang Xi. The tone was subtly rising, and the enunciation was clear, seemingly implying something more.
Yao Hong, as always, responded with a gentle smile.
And just a short response…
“What a coincidence, Xiao Wang.”
Which was a bit cryptic.
Both in their forties, this strange way of addressing each other, combined with the knowledge that they had both worked at Pentium Media, made Ran Lin feel like he could conjure up an eighty-episode palace drama in his mind.
But after the greetings, the two women linked arms and went off to a corner to catch up, leaving Ran Lin standing awkwardly beside the bookshelf, unsure whether to stay or go.
“Hi, what a coincidence,” Ran Lin awkwardly echoed Yao Hong’s opening line during their uncomfortable eye contact.
Lu Yiyao, recovering from his initial surprise, stood up from the sofa without much thought. “Are you also on the 7 p.m. flight?”
Ran Lin didn’t expect Lu Yiyao to stand up so politely; he had imagined that a mere response from Lu Yiyao would be good enough. So, he hurriedly said, “You rest. Don’t mind me.”
Lu Yiyao, still standing, looked at him somewhat perplexedly. Ran Lin, feeling equally baffled by the attention, finally realized and replied, “Oh, my flight is at 18:55.”
Lu Yiyao felt a bit awkward and added a second note to his evaluation of Ran Lin as a “scheming boy”—occasionally clueless.
The first note was made on the night when Ran Lin faced the super spicy noodles and the extremely sour and bitter juice, marked by his thoughtful offering of a bottle of mineral water—occasionally considerate.
“So, we’re on the same flight,” Lu Yiyao concluded and sat back down.
Ran Lin suddenly had a strange feeling, as if standing up to greet him was a task embedded in Lu Yiyao’s bodily mechanics, unrelated to his personal feelings towards Ran Lin but merely a reflex in the given situation.
“I’ll go over there…” Ran Lin pointed in Wang Xi’s direction, and without waiting for Lu Yiyao’s response, he tactfully exited the scene.
Lu Yiyao, who was about to say, “let’s sit together”, couldn’t find the right moment to speak, and the words died before being said.
There was nothing wrong with this. It was just a polite remark after all. But when Ran Lin didn’t actually go to Wang Xi but instead chose an inconspicuous single sofa in a corner, avoiding Wang Xi and Yao Hong, who were still “catching up”, Lu Yiyao felt a bit awkward.
He had imagined Ran Lin would try every possible way to interact with him and cling to him. Though such a thought was a bit shameless, it was how Ran Lin had acted when they first met.
No, they actually hadn’t properly met at that time.
If the start of their “acquaintance” was marked by the first episode’s recording, then during the entire two episodes, “the Ran Lin he knew” hadn’t done anything offensive. In fact, not only did Ran Lin not eagerly interact with him, but he also intentionally or unintentionally avoided him in the show.
When all five of them appeared on camera, Ran Lin interacted most with Xia Xinran, followed by Zhang Beichen.
Lu Yiyao wasn’t sure if Ran Lin had “turned over a new leaf” or developed a new “strategy”, but setting aside conspiracy theories and past grievances—after all, Ran Lin’s side hadn’t tied him up for hype recently—and judging objectively from his heart, comparing his own attitude with Ran Lin’s throughout the recording, he would give himself negative points.
There was nothing worse than responding to goodwill with malice. Even if the malice wasn’t very obvious, even if the goodwill was questionable.
Yao Hong said that he has always recorded the program with emotion. The original words were, “You are naturally slow to warm up, and with emotions on top of that, fans and audiences are not fools. They can feel it clearly through the camera. Do you want to pack up the fans and wash them away, or do you want to freeze the audience until they turn back on the road?”
He hadn’t responded at the time, but he felt indignant inside. Now, he had to admit that Yao Hong had hit the nail on the head.
But pondering all this was useless; he couldn’t just go up to Ran Lin and apologize, saying, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have looked at you through colored glasses in the first two episodes.”
Besides, if it weren’t for Ran Lin’s initial hype, he wouldn’t have projected his aversion onto Ran Lin.
In the end, he still needed an apology from Ran Lin’s team.
Forget it.
Lu Yiyao put down the magazine, deciding to browse Weibo to divert his attention. Expecting mutual apologies between stars’ management teams was like hoping for a cooked duck to speak—too far-fetched and unrealistic.
As soon as he opened the Weibo app, he was bombarded with @mentions. Lu Yiyao casually clicked in and, as expected, they were all from the official Weibo of the show and fans’ reposts.
Lu Yiyao had spent most of his time between engagements browsing Weibo posts related to <National First Love Drifting Story>. After all, it was his variety show debut, and to say he was indifferent would be self-deception.
Unfortunately, today’s updated behind-the-scenes footage by the show crew was unrelated to him; it featured Ran Lin and Zhang Beichen.
[#National First Love Drifting Story Premieres on 2.14# Eighth Exclusive Behind-the-Scene Clip: A single-leaf flatboat on the Li River. Who is the ultimate Landscape Male God? Friendship first, competition second, @Zhang Beichen even offers the first place to @Ran Lin? [XX Satellite TV – National First Love Drifting Story’s short video]]
What kind of rhythm is this bringing?
Without even opening the video, Lu Yiyao frowned at the Weibo content. Is he afraid that the fans of both sides won’t start quarreling?
Putting on headphones, he clicked on the video, which finished playing in just a few seconds. Lu Yiyao unsurprisingly took off his headphones, thinking to himself that, sure enough, if there’s no explosive point, they have to create one through editing.
Even though during that part of the video, he was still miserably working as a boatman on the river and couldn’t be at the scene, the video was clear. Even a fool could tell that Ran Lin was joking with Zhang Beichen.
If he wasn’t mistaken, Ran Lin must have had more to say afterward. No, a normal person would explain afterward that it was just a joke.
But if he were Zhang Beichen, he would never say something like letting you have the first place. How obtuse would one have to be to not realize the negative implications of that statement?
Lu Yiyao freely expressed his thoughts after watching but stopped when he saw the top comments.
It wasn’t just one comment criticizing Ran Lin. Out of ten, five were criticizing, three were defending Zhang Beichen and refusing to be involved in the quarrel, and two were just passersby enjoying the drama.
Lu Yiyao, as if possessed, went to Ran Lin’s own Weibo. He found that the latest comment section already had traces of Zhang Beichen’s casual fans and those who dislike his program.
Fortunately, the behind-the-scenes footage was short, sparking limited discussion. There were also rational fans saying to wait for the full program to come out, that XX TV station likes to stir up gimmicks for topics.
Lu Yiyao didn’t know if Ran Lin had seen these. He stopped scrolling through Weibo and instinctively looked towards the corner where Ran Lin was huddled.
Today, Ran Lin wore a light gray cotton jacket, giving him a clean and refreshing look. But now, in the warm lounge, he had taken off the jacket, wearing only a blue hoodie. Lu Yiyao always thought Ran Lin looked somewhat frail, perhaps due to his small frame. Despite being about 1.8 meters tall, his overall impression was still quite delicate.
Of course, this was just Lu Yiyao’s personal opinion. He instinctively felt that Ran Lin might not like this kind of assessment.
Seemingly sensing something, Ran Lin, who was just looking at a magazine, suddenly looked up. Lu Yiyao quickly lowered his head, returning to the appearance of focusing on his phone.
One minute later, Lu Yiyao raised his eyelids to sneak a peek at Ran Lin again. He started to wonder what exactly he was doing and why he felt like a guilty thief.
Until boarding the plane, Ran Lin never took out his phone. Lu Yiyao didn’t know whether he hoped Ran Lin would see those comments or not, or if he was just simply curious.
In first class, the two of them sat side by side, separated only by an aisle. However, there was no communication throughout the journey.
Ran Lin started sleeping after the plane entered the stratosphere, only waking up in a daze when the flight attendant reminded him that the plane was landing. Most of the time, he was sleeping in a disheveled manner, even adjusting his position when encountering turbulence, completely undisturbed.
Lu Yiyao was amazed, somewhat envious of his quality of sleep, as he was the type who could hardly sleep on flights even with an eye mask and earplugs. However, Ran Lin didn’t seem to be having sweet dreams, because every time Lu Yiyao glanced over, his face was wrinkled, wasting all that collagen.
The next morning, the five guests gathered again and were led by the program team to a remote, undeveloped beach in the outskirts of Sanya to start recording the third episode.
This place was far from the city center, without tourists, and even locals rarely came here. Backed by a wild coconut grove and facing the blue sea, there was a vast beach between the grove and the sea.
Unlike the crowded tourist beaches, the sand here wasn’t soft or fine but filled with gravel and rocks. However, when the wind moved the large leaves of the coconut trees and the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting countless mottled shadows on the ground, the beach seemed to come alive, its breath the ebb and flow of the waves.
“Today, we have only one task from start to finish, and that is to survive on a deserted island!” Without the hostess, linking the scenes became the director’s job. Despite the pretty girl being replaced by a middle-aged man who seemed up to no good, the five male stars still found it awkward from the last episode to this one.
However, the director really enjoyed this part-time job, always passionately involved in every scene transition. “Going forward, you are already stranded on this deserted island, without communication devices, without modern tools. You can only make do with what you find, build shelters, make fires, cook food, and survive tenaciously!”
“Um,” as the director was about to leave, Ran Lin quickly raised his hand, “I have a small question…”
The director looked at him innocently. “Hmm?”
Ran Lin pointed to the several red plastic buckets in front of them filled with live seafood. “Are these… just here to stimulate us?”
“Of course not,” the director said very naturally. “These are your food. Once the house you build passes inspection and the bonfire is burning brightly, you can cook these to eat!”
Ran Lin: “……”
Even Lu Yiyao, who usually didn’t like to nitpick, couldn’t bear it. “Didn’t you just say, survive tenaciously?”
Director: “Yes, building shelters from local materials, spontaneously igniting a bonfire—none of these tasks are easy to complete. Compared to that, these fish, shrimp, and crabs are insignificant.”
Lu Yiyao: “……”
Ran Lin: “Director, you better go and stay out of the sun.”
Gu Jie, Zhang Beichen, Xia Xinran: “Yes, yes!”
Before they couldn’t hold back from a group beating, the five male stars finally managed to send the director away. Under the blazing sun, they began to survey this “deserted island”.
February was a comfortable time in Sanya, but being by the sea with the unshielded sunlight, it was still blinding.
Ten minutes later, the five explorers regrouped.
“How is it?” Zhang Beichen, who was sensitive to heat, had already taken off his long-sleeved shirt and was only wearing a white T-shirt underneath.
“Except for coconut trees, there’s nothing else.” Lu Yiyao was the first to respond. He had already changed into a loose, light blue short-sleeved shirt and white shorts, looking fresh and slightly artistic.
Ran Lin was sensitive to his favorite colors, and if the person wearing that color was also to his liking, it was a real treat to the eyes.
However, now wasn’t the time to be distracted*.
*Lick the screen. Internet slang referring to when the person you like is on a screen and you can’t help but want to lick them as an expression of your love.
Lu Yiyao’s answer could represent all the explorers: this wild beach was so desolate that only coconut trees remained.
“So, what we have now are sand, seawater, and coconut trees,” Gu Jie summarized for his friends. “Apart from cutting down coconut trees, I can’t think of any other way to build a shelter.”
“It sounds like you know how to build a shelter once you’ve chopped down the trees,” Xia Xinran said as he finished applying sunscreen to his last arm and passed the sunscreen to Ran Lin. “You should apply some too.”
Ran Lin, still pondering how to survive on the deserted island, instinctively shook his head. “No need. I’ve already applied it.”
Xia Xinran: “In this hot weather, it needs to be reapplied frequently.”
Ran Lin didn’t take it, but Lu Yiyao reached out and took the sunscreen, examining it for a while before asking in puzzlement, “Why do we have a bottle of sunscreen when we’re stranded on a deserted island with even meals being a problem?”
Xia Xinran was momentarily stunned but seemed unwilling to appear guilty, quickly raising his head again. “Right, everything was washed away by the sea when I was stranded on the deserted island, only this remained. Isn’t that right!”
Gu Jie laughed out loud. Before recording, the director team had asked the guests to hand over all their belongings, insisting on using local materials to create a real sense of survival on a deserted island—although the biggest bug in this was the red plastic buckets—but as guests, everyone cooperated. Only Xia Xinran could have hidden sunscreen.
The cameraman, obviously enjoying this unscripted interlude, immediately zoomed in on Lu Yiyao’s hand.
Ran Lin, seeing Xia Xinran trying to take it back but feeling embarrassed—after all, he had broken the rules—instinctively wanted to help. He approached Lu Yiyao, saying gravely and seriously, “This is not just any sunscreen. This is our only connection to the civilized world. If we don’t get rescued, we’ll have to hold onto it to find memories years later. So you shouldn’t question it. Instead, you should thank Xia Xinran for bringing it and treating it as a treasure with us.”
Lu Yiyao swore this was the most absurd justification he had ever heard.
Yet, he felt like he was being persuaded.
Seeing that Lu Yiyao remained silent, Ran Lin confidently said, “Can you give it back to Xia Xinran now?”
But Lu Yiyao still shook his head. “No.”
Ran Lin: “Why?”
“If it’s a treasure…” Lu Yiyao said, unscrewing the cap, “then I should try it too.”
Ran Lin: “……”
Lu Yiyao seemed a bit different today.
But exactly how, Ran Lin couldn’t pinpoint.
Xia Xinran, with a horrified face, leaned towards Gu Jie and said, “This Lu Yiyao must be a fake, an imposter!”
Gu Jie was exasperated. “Can you have an imposter on a reality show?”
Xia Xinran was unconvinced. “Why not? If there are doubles for literary scenes, action scenes, and horse-riding scenes, then there can be doubles for variety shows too.”
Gu Jie took off his slightly hot shirt and revealed his impressive inverted triangle physique under a black tank top. “…Surviving on a deserted island with you guys is too draining. I’m going to walk around the coconut grove again.”
“I want to support you, but I don’t have enough money right now, so I can’t promise carelessly…”
“Fuck off.”
Annoyed, Xu Wang hung up the phone, regretting that he had hurried to notify the other party of his resignation as soon as he finished depositing his money.
No, what he regretted even more was the confession he made on a whim the day he entered the Owl! Wu Sheng didn’t believe it, which was good, but disbelief didn’t mean it wouldn’t be used to tease him. His leverage in life was now firmly in Wu Sheng’s hands!
He returned to his rented apartment dejected at eleven in the morning, only to be greeted by a room full of tea aroma. Kuang Jinxing was sitting in the living room, leisurely sipping tea across the coffee table from Wu Sheng. The scene was very Zen-like.
“Xu Ge, you’re back!” Seeing him, Kuang Jinxing immediately called out. “Come and try this. No matter what troubles I encounter, a sip of tea always soothes my mind. Try it.”
Xu Wang knew Kuang Jinxing specialized in tea studies and always heard him talk about tea. This was the first time he saw him making and drinking tea, so he approached with interest and took a sip from the teacup.
Kuang Jinxing was waiting for his feedback with eager eyes. Xu Wang felt all the irritation and clutter in his mind dissipate with the aroma of the tea, and he couldn’t help but smile. “It tastes very good.”
He didn’t understand tea and couldn’t articulate the subtleties, but he could distinguish good from bad.
Kuang Jinxing chuckled, his honest face filled with satisfaction. Xu Wang suddenly envied him. It’s a blessing in life to devote time and energy to what one loves.
“The flight is booked.” Wu Sheng put down his teacup and updated him. “It’s at five this afternoon.”
Xu Wang didn’t expect him to act so quickly. “To Yulin?”
“Yes,” Wu Sheng said. “Yuyang Airport.”
Xu Wang nodded, drank the rest of his tea, and got up to pack his bags.
Wu Sheng carried only a laptop backpack, light enough as if he was heading to work in Zhongguancun; Kuang Jinxin, on the other hand, had a huge hiking bag, stuffed full and nearly as tall as a person, heavy as if he was fleeing for his life; Xu Wang was neither as carefree and unrestrained as Wu Sheng nor as thoroughly prepared and life-preserving as Kuang Jinxin, eventually settling for a slightly larger casual backpack.
Just as he finished packing, Wu Sheng appeared at the bedroom door and asked out of the blue, “Did you settle your salary?”
Without a second thought, Xu Wang replied, “Yes, to the last penny.”
Wu Sheng nodded and left crisply. Xu Wang, puzzled, thought for a long time and could only conclude that “Wu Sheng has some conscience, asking if he got his hard-earned money.” But recalling Wu Sheng’s expressionless face, he felt perhaps he was overthinking and being overly sentimental.
After packing, the three grabbed a quick lunch and headed to Nanyuan Airport. In the evening, the flight took off on time.
Their new coordinates (109.7395, 38.3437), accurate to the satellite map and Wu Sheng’s estimate, were in northern Shaanxi—more precisely, four kilometers north of Yulin City in Zhenbeitai.
It wasn’t an obscure place but one of the most imposing sights among the Great Wall relics, on par with Jiayuguan and Shanhaiguan, known as “the first tower of the Great Wall.”
Under normal circumstances, Xu Wang would be excited about this trip, filled with endless wonderful fantasies. But after being tormented for three nights in a row, he now only hoped to end this bizarre “nightlife” as soon as possible and sleep indefinitely with a pillow in his arms.
In fact, that was what he did. As soon as he boarded the plane, he met the Duke of Zhou*. Kuang Jinxing, his fellow traveler, did the same.
*Was a member of the royal family of the early Zhou dynasty who played a major role in consolidating the kingdom established by his elder brother King Wu. He’s also known as the “God of Dreams”, so is often used as a metaphoric way of saying someone is asleep.
Wu Sheng also wanted to sleep, but the person next to him kept leaning on his shoulder, disturbing his peace. As he pondered whether to shrug off or gently push the person away, the plane suddenly jolted.
Encountering air currents during flight is common, and Wu Sheng was used to it. The plane quickly stabilized. But the jolt woke up Xu Wang, who lifted his head groggily and asked, “What’s happening? Is it midnight yet?”
Wu Sheng replied, “Still early. Go back to sleep.”
The tone was disdainful, but underneath there was an unnoticed tenderness.
Xu Wang, barely awake, heard “still early” and immediately relaxed, placing his head back on Wu Sheng’s shoulder and continued to sleep.
His action was so natural that it stunned Wu Sheng. After a while, Wu Sheng also closed his eyes, pretended to sleep, and gently leaned his head against Xu Wang’s.
Feeling vindicated, Wu Sheng, who finally felt not shortchanged, dreamed all the way to Yulin.
The plane arrived at Yuyang Airport on time at 6:30. Instead of heading to Yulin city center, the trio took a taxi directly to Beiyue Temple Village near Zhenbeitai. As a national scenic spot, Zhenbeitai isn’t open at night. They wanted to sneak in and wait at the coordinates but lacked the courage. If they were caught by security, it would only add insult to injury.
When they got out of the taxi, the sky was mostly dark. The temperature was almost the same as in Beijing, but the wind was noticeably colder, carrying the unique toughness and ruggedness of the northwest.
This was a typical, developing northern village. Along the wide, flat asphalt road were neat apartment buildings and uneven, aged bungalows, with both private cars rushing by and villagers chatting in front of their homes.
“Do you want a double room or a single room?” The front desk lady at the hotel was puzzled by the new customers’ request. “We don’t have single rooms.”
Xu Wang had anticipated this and immediately switched to Plan B. “Then two double rooms.” He then turned to Wu Sheng and Kuang Jinxing. “Is that okay?”
Wu Sheng had no objections. Kuang Jinxing also nodded in agreement, though he had a small question. “So… who’s staying with whom?”
Xu Wang touched his nose, his gaze drifting unintentionally. “Uh, whatever. Doesn’t matter who stays with whom.”
“Yeah, whatever. We won’t be staying long anyway,” Wu Sheng said, absorbed in his phone as if it contained the entire world.
Kuang Jinxing always felt there was a subtle atmosphere wafting through the hotel lobby but couldn’t quite discern its significance. As he was pondering, the front desk lady cheerfully said, “Ah, you kids, we have a standard with triple beds available!”
The problem was solved delightfully for Kuang Jinxing. “Great!”
Wu Sheng put his phone away and stared into the distance quietly while Xu Wang took the keys from the lady with genuine praise. “Sister, your hotel has quite the variety of rooms.”
After settling their luggage quickly, the three grabbed a bite nearby. Preoccupied with the evening’s plans, they didn’t taste much of the meal.
Returning to the hotel, it was only 8:40 p.m. Since they had to wait anyway, they decided to set an alarm and get some more sleep. After all, what they lacked the most these past few days was rest.
This time with pillows and beds, the comfort was incomparable to the plane. Not just Xu Wang and Kuang Jinxing, who usually had good sleep quality, but even Wu Sheng fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Soon, three steady breaths filled the room as the weary travelers slowly regained their strength in this rare calm and comfort. Time trickled by, and their dreams grew sweeter…
“That’s buckwheat noodles with glutinous rice and pure lamb soup, with added vegetarian broth and meat broth. I haven’t even tasted it yet, but the smell alone is irresistible…”
“Wow, this soup is amazing!”
“Slurp—”
“Slurp—”
“These noodles are also incredible! In Shaanxi dialect, it’s called ‘excellent*’! The owner told me when I bought the noodles that their buckwheat noodles are still made the old-fashioned way. If you get a fake noodle, you’ll get 10% off guaranteed!”
*[liaozalie] (撩咋咧) In Shaanxi dialect, it means very good, excellent, ect.
“Ah? ‘Regretting not having more meat when eating’—how do I know if it’s the old way? It’s my first time eating them haha…”
“Next up are the fried dough cakes, golden and crispy. Let’s give it a try—”
“Crunch—”
“Crunch—”
“Damn it! Who the hell is this!” Xu Wang jumped out of bed, awakened by hunger for the first time in his twenty-nine years.
Turning his head, he saw Classmate Wu already sitting up, arms crossed, frowning at the wall, every cell in his body troubled.
However, Kuang Jinxing, closest to the wall, was sleeping contentedly, completely blocking out the external disturbances.
“Xiao Kuang’s quality of sleep should be considered high-tech.” Xu Wang envied and gave Wu Sheng a look, whispering, “Shall we go?”
Just three words, but Wu Sheng understood instantly.
“Let’s go.”
It was rare for something to unite Xu Wang and Wu Sheng in shared irritation. They got out of bed, left their room quietly, and without hesitation, knocked on the neighboring door.
The bustle inside the room ceased abruptly, and the corridor quieted down. Soon, a cautious voice came from behind the door. “Who is it?”
Xu Wang and Wu Sheng exchanged a glance and said in unison, “Next door.”
The two men’s voices seemed to make the person inside more wary. After a rustle of a chain lock, the door slowly opened a crack, revealing half of a man’s face, clearly built and burly. Xu Wang decided to be diplomatic first. “Hi, we’re from the next room. We’ve had a long day of traveling, and it’s already 10:30. Could you please keep it down with the eating and talking?”
Xu Wang spoke softly and politely. The man inside, clearly not expecting such a gentle approach, paused before scratching his head apologetically. “Sorry, fellas, didn’t realize. I’ll keep it down from now on!”
Xu Wang was pleasantly surprised by the man’s cooperation and smiled amiably. “It’s tough for everyone when traveling. Let’s be understanding.”
The man nodded in agreement, and just as a dispute seemed to be diffusing peacefully, Wu Sheng suddenly spoke up. “Qian Ai?”
The man inside froze, taking a serious look at Wu Sheng for the first time. After a moment, his eyes widened in disbelief. “Class Monitor?!”
“No, wait, what’s going on?” Xu Wang was confused, his gaze shifting between Wu Sheng and the man inside before it dawned on him, staring at the face behind the chain lock. “You’re Love Money*?!”
*Clarity: His name is Qian Ai (钱艾). However, Xu Wang flipped his name around and called him Ai Qian (爱钱) using a different [ai] (爱), which means like/love, that’s a homophone to [ai] (艾) to make his nickname Love Money.
They locked eyes, and a rush of shared memories from their time together as classmates came flooding back to the man’s mind. “Sports Rep?!”
“……” Xu Wang finally understood; his old classmate identified people by their roles in the student committee.
Not long after Sun Jiang withdrew, the four received new prompts.
The remaining three in the team got: [Roster] — [Team member shortage (3/4). Do you want to add members?]
What Sun Jiang received: [Roster] — [A lonely boat can never reach the shore.]
A poetic message, yet a curse-like result.
Sun Jiang disappeared.
Xu Wang, Wu Sheng, and Kuang Jinxin watched as his figure became fainter and eventually vanished, leaving the space where he had sat empty, as if he had never been there.
The air in the cave thickened, as if rapidly frozen, filled with an utter chill.
“Did he return to reality or…” Kuang Jinxin muttered, not daring to say the last word.
Returning to reality meant relief, but complete disappearance meant something else entirely—erasure. Two speculations, one a heaven, the other a hell.
A lonely boat can never reach the shore. Xu Wang recited the phrase he had just seen on Sun Jiang’s arm in his mind, his heart sinking. This didn’t seem like good news of someone returning home.
“He didn’t return to reality, but he didn’t disappear either,” Wu Sheng suddenly said.
Xu Wang instinctively disbelieved, casting a sideways glance at him. “How do you know?”
“I don’t guess like you do. I use logical reasoning.” Wu Sheng shrugged, his calm demeanor contrasting with his teammates’ worries.
“So what did your reasoning deduce?” Xu Wang rolled his eyes upwards, but strangely, the clouds in his heart dispersed quite a bit.
Wu Sheng no longer kept them in suspense. “Choose ‘add members’.”
Reluctantly, Xu Wang acted slowly, while Kuang Jinxin, listening intently, didn’t hesitate to follow suit.
Soon, both their arms displayed the same list of potential members to add:
1/23 Sun Jiang [Invite]
1/23 An Peng [Invite]
1/23 Bai Haichuan [Invite]
1/23 ……
The list had at least twenty to thirty names, all with 1/23 like theirs. Apart from Sun Jiang, who had previously been part of the team, the rest were ordered alphabetically by the first letter of their surname.
“Are so many people in the Owl?” Kuang Jinxin hadn’t expected this. “How come we haven’t met anyone? And why are they all alone without forming teams?”
Knowing Sun Jiang was still safe relieved Xu Wang, who patted Kuang Jinxin’s head with a chuckle. “Since it’s a list of potential members, of course, it would only list individuals. If there were team members, it wouldn’t be called an invitation, but poaching.”
Kuang Jinxin: “But we haven’t encountered anyone, whether they’re in a team or not?”
“Uh, those who withdraw might temporarily disappear, like Sun Jiang, and as for other teams…” Xu Wang tilted his head, then had an epiphany. “We must have just missed each other!”
Kuang Jinxin frowned slightly, as if wanting to believe but finding it hard to convince himself. “Is it really that coincidental?”
Wu Sheng couldn’t stand it and glanced at Xu Wang. “If you don’t know, just say you don’t know. Don’t lead the kid astray.”
The three ultimately didn’t invite any new members. Regarding going to Northern Shaanxi, let alone the unknown attitude of the new invitee, even the three of them hadn’t reached a consensus yet.
At five o’clock sharp, that intermittent, annoying voice sounded in their ears—
[Owl: Dear~ It’s dawn. Time to send you home.]
Three were ejected, but four gathered.
Sun Jiang appeared, looking just as surprised.
After a brief exchange of information, the three learned that after Sun Jiang disappeared, he appeared in another identical place—the same cave, the same ice waterfall—only without anyone else. Then he returned to the cave and sat there until five.
It was like the four at a mahjong table were redistributed into two tables. Each table had the same set of mahjong, but one was three short of one, the other one short of three, and each table in different rooms, invisible to each other.
Kuang Jinxin’s question of “why we never meet other teams or people” seemed also explainable with this mahjong theory—indeed everyone was in the “Owl”, perhaps even facing the same bears, the same guessing idioms, but in different rooms, independently.
This time they were welcomed back to Liuyin Park, only four or five hundred meters from the last location at Qingnianhu Park, corresponding with the location and distance of the ice waterfall and cave in the “Owl”, reaffirming Wu Sheng’s deduction about the geographical “inside-outside correspondence”.
Sun Jiang hailed a taxi, not saying a word of farewell, just smiling through the car window after sitting in, as if wanting to wave, but eventually just nodding his head.
The taxi drove off, disappearing at the end of the street, vanishing in the pre-dawn darkness.
Under the streetlight at the park entrance, three young men stood in the cool breeze, momentarily speechless.
A large leaf, lifted by the wind, smacked the back of Xu Wang’s head. On reflex, he slapped it, and the brittle leaf cracked mournfully under his palm.
Xu Wang wordlessly grabbed the dry leaf, feeling even more troubled. “Alright, let’s not stand here like idiots. Let’s go home!”
“Let’s go to my place” was shortened to just “let’s go home.” Though he said it unintentionally, it gave the listeners a sense of “going to their own home.” It was odd but quite wonderful, like a warm breeze in the chilly dawn.
Back in Xu Wang’s living room—the same sofa, the same chair.
As soon as Kuang Jinxin sat down, he shouted out decisively, “Xu Ge, I’ve decided. I’m going to Shaanxi with you!”
Xu Wang nearly fell off his chair, and he saw that Wu Sheng’s expression wasn’t much better than his own. Even the usually decisive Wu Sheng confirmed once more, “Are you sure?”
Kuang Jinxin looked steadily at Wu Sheng, nodding vigorously. “I’m sure. I can’t focus on my internship, not with this hanging over my head. No, with this matter unresolved, I can’t settle down to do anything.”
Wu Sheng was unmoved. “What about your internship assessment?”
Xu Wang silently applauded his classmate in his heart.
Being hot-headed was a patent of the young, but as adults, they should at least not add fuel to the fire if they couldn’t be positive role models. Otherwise, no matter whose child they misled, it would be a sin.
Kuang Jinxin clearly didn’t expect Wu Sheng to be so thorough. He stood there dumbfounded for a long time before scratching his head sheepishly. “Don’t worry about the internship assessment. Actually… well… let me tell you the truth. The owner of this teahouse is a distant relative of mine. According to family hierarchy, he should even call me ‘uncle’.”
This unexpected “relationship” stunned both Wu Sheng and Xu Wang.
“Actually, I am going to help out at home after graduation and won’t need to look for a job. Our school doesn’t strictly require every graduate to have an internship assessment. But in my senior year, while others were looking for jobs or preparing for postgraduate studies, I didn’t want to idle away every day. So, when I called home, I casually mentioned wanting to find a part-time job to experience life. The next day, my second uncle and younger aunt found me an internship…”
The shame of “taking the back door” made Kuang Jinxin’s voice and head lower.
Xu Wang was more concerned about something else. He said he called “home”, but the ones who responded were his “second uncle and younger aunt”…
“Xu Ge.” Kuang Jinxin’s voice suddenly rose, interrupting Xu Wang’s thoughts. He lifted his head with the naivety and determination of youth and repeated his decision. “I’ll go with you!”
“Okay.” This time, Wu Sheng didn’t hesitate.
After recruiting Kuang Jinxin, Wu Sheng naturally turned his attention to Xu Wang. “What about you?”
Xu Wang turned his face away, looking at the stars outside the window.
Wu Sheng stood up and walked around the tea table to where he was looking up, using his height advantage to block his view. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Xu Wang had no choice but to look up at the other’s handsome face, speaking slowly and solemnly like a sage. “I am pondering.”
Wu Sheng choked on his frustration. “What’s there to think about? You don’t need an internship assessment, and you have no family to drag along.”
Xu Wang retorted with irritation, “So a single dog doesn’t deserve respect?”
“What does respect have to do with it?” Wu Sheng couldn’t understand Xu Wang’s thought process. “Being single means fewer attachments. We’re both the same. It’s like the saying, ‘A single dog with no house, no car, ready to go at a shout.’”
Xu Wang: “…Does everyone in America speak Chinese?”
Wu Sheng: “Huh?”
Xu Wang: “Otherwise, where do you get all these witty words!!!”
“Presumptuous” was the second major flaw of Wu Sheng, besides “showing off”. Many classmates had been tormented by him. His personality, to put it nicely, was “I think we should all think this way,” or plainly, “How can you not think like me? That’s strange.”
Although it turned out most of the time Wu Sheng’s ideas weren’t wrong and were even the best solution, his overly simplistic and brute force rational thinking really made people want to smack him.
If only he could put himself in others’ shoes and speak more pleasantly!
As the moon set and the sun rose, the sky outside the window gradually brightened.
Kuang Jinxin looked at the “presumptuous” Wu Sheng and then at Xu Wang, who was “deep in thought”, and felt it was better to be a spectator.
Xu Wang was no longer concerned about Classmate Kuang. Any decision was the result of weighing various factors, and he was now fully focused on calculating the score of each factor in his mind.
To go or not to go?
Work accounts for 5 points.
Safety accounts for 3 points.
Cost (money) accounts for 1 point.
Wu Sheng…
Xu Wang stole a glance at him.
91 points.
Fuck me!
Xu Wang had made up his mind but couldn’t show weakness. “I’ll try to ask for leave,” he said to Wu Sheng with a raised eyebrow, adding, “Don’t get your hopes up.”
Wu Sheng looked dissatisfied. “It’s just a lack of determination. If you can’t get leave, then quit… Hey, watch the kicking!”
The discussion of whether to go or not ended with “His Majesty being kicked.”
The fruit knife that vanished was eventually found on the ground beside Xu Wang’s bed.
By then, Kuang Jinxin had already left, and Wu Sheng was in the living room checking new coordinates on his laptop. Xu Wang went to his bedroom to change into a business suit. While tying his tie, he inadvertently looked down and saw it right there.
Wu Sheng, who was finally allowed into the bedroom, took the fruit knife, played with it for a while, and deduced, “Maybe it wasn’t dropped. If you’re sure you put it in your pocket, it’s likely that the ‘Owl’ doesn’t allow carrying lethal weapons.”
Xu Wang didn’t say anything, tacitly agreeing with his deduction.
The issue of the knife was put to rest. Xu Wang looked down at his half-tied tie, then up at Wu Sheng, and gestured with his chin towards the door, clearly indicating something.
Wu Sheng quietly watched him for a while and then really turned to leave.
Xu Wang was surprised at his obedience today, but just as the bedroom door was left with no one, a head peeked out again. “You look good in a suit.”
Xu Wang was stunned, and after a long while, he replied stupidly, “Oh.”
It wasn’t until he was on the subway that Xu Wang fully came to his senses, letting out a long howl in his heart—why flirt if you’re not planning to marry!
Arriving at the company, the “Northern Shaanxi Travel Plan” naturally came up—
“Taking leave again?” The manager’s face clouded over. “Why do you have so many issues every day?”
Xu Wang looked down and demure, trying to appear as agreeable as possible.
The manager was frustrated and was about to vent when he saw the number of days on the leave request. His face turned as dark as the bottom of a pot, and he yelled through the office door to the sales hall. “A week?! You might as well quit—”
Xu Wang calmly looked up and nodded smoothly. “Okay, I’ll resign. Please settle this month’s salary.”
The manager was stunned, obviously not expecting Xu Wang to be so decisive.
Xu Wang went straight to the finance department to get his pay.
But to his surprise, after a phone call, the finance department only left him with 1,900 yuan.
Xu Wang held back his anger and reminded them, “I just sold a large apartment a few days ago.”
“If you resign, you have to give a month’s notice. If you quit immediately, no commission bonus will be settled. Your basic salary is three thousand, minus the absences and the social security the company has already paid for you. That’s all.” The financial officer was adamant. Clearly she was instructed over the phone.
Xu Wang looked at her steadily for a long while, then suddenly laughed, his voice becoming incredibly gentle. “I’ve changed my mind. I won’t resign.”
The employees, who had been whispering among themselves, sensing something unusual, were surprised to see Xu Wang come out of the finance room empty-handed and, instead of leaving, stand in the hall as if it was a normal day at work.
A few minutes later, the manager’s office door was urgently knocked on. “Manager, you need to come out and see this!”
In the lobby, Xu Wang, dressed in a suit, was explaining apartment layouts to a customer—
“You’ve got a great eye for choosing this one. We just changed the layout of a three-bedroom apartment into four with two living rooms. It’s a bit cramped, but you’ll get used to it, and it’s really practical. Look at this living room. The sun absolutely won’t get in, so there’s no worries about the summer heat or the setting sun. It’s guaranteed to stay cool…”
He was all smiles; his voice was loud and clear, exuding an aura that demanded attention. Even the customers with other property consultants found it hard not to be drawn in, listening intently whether they meant to or not.
“Greenery? Don’t worry about that. The area around this complex is all wasteland. The nearest bus stop is a half-hour walk away. You can plant whatever you like and enjoy the bountiful harvest. As for amenities? They’ll definitely be there, I assure you. It might just take three, five, or eight years to develop…”
“Xu Wang,” the manager, who came out to see what was happening, said with controlled anger. “Come, with, me, inside.”
The sliding door closed, and the blinds were drawn.
Without mincing words, the manager delivered the ultimatum. “You’re fired.”
Xu Wang nodded, agreeable and willing to negotiate. “I won’t take a penny that isn’t mine, but I won’t leave a penny that is mine. Settle it, and I’ll leave.”
The manager sneered. “Either you leave on your own, or I’ll have security throw you out.”
“Okay.” Xu Wang smiled back with a very warm and gentle kind of smile. “If you throw me out, I’ll go to the labor bureau and file a complaint. Unjustified dismissal violates the Labor Law. And let me remind you, when an employee sues a company, it’s not about who’s right but who makes more noise. After I file my complaint tomorrow, I’ll hang a banner in front of your sales office the day after. Do you think ‘Give Back My Hard-Earned Money’ sounds good, or ‘Unscrupulous Developer Cuts Corners, Homeowners Have Nowhere to Turn for Justice’ sounds better?”
The manager was so angry that his cheeks trembled. His face turned the color of liver, but he couldn’t utter another word.
In the brisk late autumn air, the sun was shining brightly.
Xu Wang, with 29,000 in cash, found the nearest ATM and deposited it all. Stepping out of the ATM booth, Xu Wang stretched his arms in a big yawn, as if bidding farewell to a weary past and welcoming the unknown tomorrow.
Kinky Translations 