Ban Yunfang had been in the industry for over ten years. Besides her formidable skills, her sharp intuition had kept her career on track.
Thinking about this matter, she immediately called the number on the slip at eight o’clock. A polite man answered, and they spoke for three to four minutes before she hung up.
She looked puzzled and decided to set the matter aside for now, planning to inform Qin Wunian when he returned or when she had time.
Meanwhile, the man tucked away his phone and walked to a door. He knocked lightly, and when someone inside told him to come in, he pushed it open.
Facing his boss, already at work, he said, “President Ji, the agency just got back to me. Qin Wunian’s manager replied that Song Cheng hasn’t signed with them yet, and they don’t know any other information.”
After a pause, he added, “She even asked who I was. I said I’m an old friend of Song Cheng’s, but from her tone, I don’t think she believed me.”
He held a pen in his right hand, pausing mid-writing as an ink blot appeared. Frowning, he tossed the entire document aside, picked up the next, and without looking up, said, “Understood. Since they don’t want to say more, you don’t need to contact them again.”
“And the investigation into Song Cheng’s recent movements?”
“Cease it. They’re all participating in the variety show, which shows he’s not afraid of being discovered. You don’t need to handle it anymore.”
“Understood,” he murmured, realizing he had no further role. Turning to leave, he hesitated, then glanced back. “President Ji, now that Song Cheng has returned publicly, what about Mr. Shen…”
Slap. The man set the pen down on the desk, raising his sharp gaze so the other froze.
“Don’t act smart, and don’t meddle.”
His cold voice could give someone goosebumps. “Understood?”
“……”
“Understood, understood, understood,” came the stammered reply.
Having scared his subordinate half to death, the man, called President Ji, slowly exhaled and picked up the phone beside him. The screen displayed the official variety show account, which had posted a new Weibo this morning: all the guests sitting in the same mirrored room, looking at each other—some indifferent, some hostile, some icy.
Two minutes later, he put the phone down and returned to work.
This morning, Song Cheng showed off a little: not only did he manage to feed himself and Qin Wunian on just fifty yuan, he even made a twenty-yuan profit. Lü Ruosi had bought up all the extra portions he made, so while she ate, she also passed some along to Liu Yanchu.
The others didn’t get a chance, so they had to make do with the breakfast provided by the production team. Yue Yuran watched everyone praise Song Cheng and muttered, “I can cook too, you know.”
Su Yu burst out laughing: “Hahahahahahaha!”
Seeing Yue Yuran silently glance his way, Su Yu blinked in surprise. “What? You weren’t joking?”
Yue Yuran: “……”
Once everyone finished eating, Song Cheng stood up to clear the dishes, but Qin Wunian stopped him. “Sit. I’ll handle the rest.”
Song Cheng obediently said “Oh,” not insisting, and sat back down, smiling slightly as he did.
Everyone else had their own matters: Lü Ruosi went out to check on the small animals, Liu Yanchu was joking around with the crew, Yue Yuran was debating culinary skills with Su Yu, and Zhao Feifei went back upstairs after finishing her meal. Song Cheng thought no one was watching his expression, but when he finally looked up, he saw Yang Qing giving him a meaningful glance.
Song Cheng: “……”
His cheeks tinged pink. He raised his chin, trying to appear serious and composed. “Yang Jie, have you eaten well?”
Yang Qing responded with a nod, her tone suggestive: “I’m nearly full to bursting.”
She’d only had a salad last night, and this morning even that was skipped. One egg, a slice of bread, a few cherry tomatoes—barely enough to fill the gaps between teeth. Saying she was full was exaggeration.
Realizing she was teasing him, Song Cheng felt a little awkward, but Yang Qing wasn’t done. She tilted her head and, voice intentionally teasing, said, “Yesterday afternoon you two looked like you were about to fall out, and yet this morning you’re fine. So, what happened in between?”
Song Cheng, of course, couldn’t answer that. He needed to say something, so he quickly redirected the topic toward her. “You two were the same. Yesterday after filming, I remember you didn’t speak a word, yet this morning Zhao Jie even gave you half an egg.”
Yang Qing smiled faintly. “Models are like that—strictly controlling diet, low oil, low salt, low sugar, managing nutrition carefully. One egg is already too much; throwing it away would be a waste, so it just goes to me.”
Song Cheng quietly pointed out, “But your diet is stricter than Zhao Jie’s.”
Yang Qing: “Who says? I hardly eat anything—what diet?”
Song Cheng: “……”
He had nothing to say. Yang Qing blinked at him, curiosity bright on her face, then quietly sat next to him. “I still want to know—yesterday, Qin Wunian said you were a liar. Were you angry?”
Qin Wunian was still in the kitchen, glancing at Song Cheng’s back. Song Cheng looked back at Yang Qing. “Zhao Jie said you went out to eat with her ex. Were you upset?”
Yang Qing paused, then replied, “No.”
Because she really had.
Song Cheng looked at her and gave a faint smile. “Same here.”
Though Song Cheng was the youngest among them, Yang Qing often didn’t feel that.
After a moment of silence, Yang Qing couldn’t help herself. She reached up and touched Song Cheng’s hair. “There’s still a difference. Even if you’re a liar, you’re a cute liar. And I’m what everyone calls a traitor—the kind of traitor that’s truly detestable.”
She smiled, then left. Song Cheng watched her exit the villa, then lowered his head, waiting for Qin Wunian to finish. He pulled out his phone to check messages.
The new script had been sent. Today’s schedule was simple: a competition in the morning, another in the afternoon, then tallying scores and announcing tomorrow’s destination.
Song Cheng opened a private message from the director to see his role for the day. Reading the line, he couldn’t help but glance at the cameraman behind him.
Through the lens, he could almost see the director on the other side.
Yesterday, he’d been tasked with smoothing things over with Liu Yanchu. Today, he was supposed to show affection toward Liu Yanchu?! Impossible. His heart and mind belonged to Qin Wunian, and after last night, he felt reconciliation was within reach—he wasn’t going to waste it now!
One moment he sat upright with resolve, the next he whispered to himself: ignoring the director’s instructions… is that really okay?
He had no idea what the others’ scripts entailed. Did they also have tasks involving bonding with someone other than their partner? Then whose task was showing affection to Qin Wunian?
When Qin Wunian returned, he saw Song Cheng sitting there, conflicted. Seeing Song Cheng’s phone, he guessed what was going on, pulled out his own, and sent a message. A chime sounded, and Song Cheng reflexively glanced.
Qin Wunian: Do what you want. From today on, don’t worry about the script.
Song Cheng’s eyes widened. Shocked, he looked at Qin Wunian, opened his mouth, then realized what he had to do. He quickly lowered his head and furiously typed on the keyboard.
After a moment, Qin Wunian finally received his reply.
Song Cheng: Isn’t this… bad?!?!?!
Qin Wunian: “……”
After a pause, he continued typing.
Qin Wunian: Listen to me. Be good.
Looking at the word “be good,” Song Cheng felt as if a bar of soap had been dropped into water in his chest, and a tiny figure beside him was vigorously scrubbing it.
The rainbow-colored bubbles multiplied, soon filling his heart completely. Song Cheng felt himself turning into a bubble.
Head down, fidgeting, he finally typed a single line.
The phone vibrated, and Qin Wunian looked down, seeing Song Cheng’s message.
Song Cheng: “Okay~~~~~~~~”
Qin Wunian: “……”
He stared expressionlessly at the row of tildes, but in the end couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.
The director, watching the footage, gradually grew grim.
“Again… again… it’s you two! Are you here to fix bugs or what? You find loopholes every day! Don’t think this will stop me! These clips will not be edited out—when they air, you’ll get to fully experience the fear of being dominated by the internet Levenshuk!”
…
At nine o’clock, Gan Yawen appeared and led everyone out of the courtyard along a small path to their first competition site.
As they walked, he described the town’s scenic beauty. In reality, the town was artificial—the developer had built it into the largest resort nearby. The production crew had chosen this location to boost the town’s popularity.
The director only mentioned there would be two competitions today, without specifying the format. But in Song Cheng’s private script, there was a note: in the first round, he needed to be the “plane.”
Song Cheng didn’t understand what being a “plane” meant. Upon arriving, he saw a freshly painted, colorful square lawn, and slowly, three words came to mind:
…Flying Chess?
Just then, Gan Yawen cheerfully announced, “Welcome to the first competition—Intelligent Flying Chess!”
“I’m sure everyone has played regular Flying Chess,” he continued, “but ours is different. It combines intelligence, fitness, body sculpting, teamwork, and luck. While having fun, you’ll also gain educational benefits. Let me explain the rules.”
He walked to a prepared board and pointed to the written summary: “Each team divides tasks—one person is the plane, standing at the starting point. The other competes to grab the dice by answering questions. The director prepared many fun questions; if you answer correctly, your partner gets a chance to roll the dice. Wrong answers… well, you know.”
The eight guests: “……”
Gan Yawen pointed to the next line: “To ensure fairness, the director prepared twelve categories, each with twenty unique questions. The person acting as the plane can select a category for their partner; the final question is randomly picked from four chosen categories.”
Seeing the varied expressions, Gan Yawen smiled. “Don’t think all the pressure is on the one answering questions—the plane also has a challenge. Reaching the finish line means victory, and prizes vary by ranking. Each square on the board has a little surprise prepared by the director. Landing on a square of the same color, you can choose to accept or decline; a different color square, you must accept. Tip: being the plane is a physical task.”
“Now, you can discuss team roles.”
After a few seconds of silence, Yang Qing snapped out of it. Without protesting, she looked at the “Unforgettable” team. “So unfair! With Su Yu on your team, you’re basically guaranteed to win!”
Su Yu, as an influencer, attracted many fans. Beyond his friendly face, his academic achievements were impressive: an integrated Bachelor’s and Master’s from Peking University, internships during junior year, and even after going viral, he completed graduation on time. Rumor had it he still wanted to pursue a PhD, but never had the time.
Song Cheng hadn’t realized Su Yu was so formidable. While admiring him, Song Cheng also felt a pang of self-consciousness. Everything Song Cheng had, Su Yu had too—and some things Su Yu had, Song Cheng didn’t even possess a sliver of. No wonder the director had made him the plane.
Sighing inwardly, Song Cheng accepted his role and looked at the colorful squares ahead, eager to try. He wasn’t sure what the physical task entailed, but he had a hunch he’d be good at it.
Turning to Qin Wunian, he said, “I’ll be the plane, you answer the questions—let’s do this together.”
Qin Wunian raised an eyebrow: “I answer?”
Song Cheng blinked. “Otherwise?”
They couldn’t let a student like him answer, after all.
Qin Wunian’s expression shifted, realizing the point. “I told you, do what you want. Don’t worry about… arrangements. Just compete properly. Answer a few questions, we can try for first place too.”
He glanced at Su Yu, waving modestly, and Yue Yuran, already confident of winning. He smirked.
“Let’s show them how to quietly make a fortune.”