Nie Luo suddenly felt that coming in might have been a mistake.
And choosing this solo sofa might have been an even bigger one.
The show was playing, but his attention wasn’t on the screen.
“…You drink water a bit too often, don’t you?”
Every few moments, an arm lightly brushed his shoulder. Gentle, almost featherlike, but impossible to ignore.
“Really?”
Fan Qing’s goal was mostly achieved. He casually set the thermos on the table.
“No need to drink anymore then.”
It wasn’t that he hadn’t finished—it was all pretense anyway.
Nie Luo had no choice but to let the thought drop.
Since the cup was down, the occasional brushing of his shoulder would stop.
He cast his gaze toward the screen.
The camera showed Jing Yuan just finishing his group division, eyes bright with excitement at discovering food.
“Hmm? He knows this stuff?”
Jin Yi was astonished. People really couldn’t be judged by appearances. Didn’t Jian’s younger brothers usually behave like spoiled rich kids?
Why did he and Jian Feiyang seem so different now?
It wasn’t just Jin Yi—viewers watching the premiere were also stunned.
“66666! I thought this group was done for, but who expected Jian Feiyang to grab a stick right from the start and completely blow me away? Then finding herbs, then food—looked so natural and experienced. No way this is from someone without practice. He either has experience or studied this!”
“I’m shocked too! Isn’t Jian Feiyang supposed to be the young master of the Jian family? Why does he look so capable?!”
“…Ladies, do you feel it too? Watching Jian Feiyang now, it’s like he has a halo around him. You know? That saintly, shining, Mary Sue kind of halo…”
“…I get it! I noticed his sunny smile on past variety shows, so angelic. But here, he’s truly angelic—taking care of everyone, finding fruit and food. My feelings are complicated now. I thought I’d be a fan-mom, but now? His boyfriend energy is off the charts—I want to be a girlfriend-fan. You get me?”
“Hahaha, Jian Feiyang is such a little angel! Looks dumb and innocent, yet reliable—he’s the living embodiment of a paradox!”
The camera shifted to the other group, whose members had been laughing before. The viewers’ expressions gradually froze and became confused.
“Uh… I was rooting for this group, but what are they doing? Why can’t they cooperate and split into two teams to build separate shelters? Did they even think about food? Watching Jian Feiyang’s team, I’m mindblown. Someone starts with a perfect hand and ruins it?!”
“No, what are you talking about? This is clearly targeting Jing Yuan. Sister’s the best, supporting our Jing Yuan. He’s not wrong—he studied past episodes, figured out the coastal camp strategy. Why can’t the other teammates follow? I don’t get it. So frustrating, thank goodness for Sister and Brother Zhong helping out. Love you guys.”
The villa went quiet again, four people staring at the screen, each processing the unexpected turn of events.
Jian Feiyang, the seemingly naive young master, was quietly impressing them all.
“??? Can the previous fans just back off for a moment? Does Jing Yuan even realize he’s being targeted? He volunteered himself and then took credit for others’ efforts—if you’re going to help, why grab the position? The whole point of splitting into groups is for competition. By selling this perfect-persona act, isn’t he hurting his own teammates?”
“Ugh, I’ll skip this part and come back later, boring.”
As the online discussion heated up, Jing Yuan’s fans quickly flooded the comments to suppress dissent.
This survival show wasn’t exactly top-tier; most veteran viewers quietly watched without arguing. Under the fans’ coordinated control, the on-screen comment section soon became completely occupied by them, leaving no room for anyone else.
“Turn off the comments,” Fan Qing said, taking another sip of water, his tone calm.
“Oh—oh, okay.”
Huazhi glanced at him and promptly muted the comments, feeling oddly obedient.
Was he angry?
Nie Luo, trying not to be distracted and focusing mostly on the show, couldn’t help sneaking a look at Fan Qing’s expression.
Fan Qing remained impassive. Cold, even—almost unnaturally so.
Nie Luo felt he should say something, but when he opened his mouth, hesitation struck.
What could he even say?
“Nie Ge, are you worrying about me?”
Nie Luo was still lost in thought, but Fan Qing had noticed the subtle expression.
Coming back to focus, Nie Luo’s face stayed calm, betraying nothing.
“…I was just wondering if Jing Yuan had used the same tactics before.”
Even unwilling to admit it, it was endearingly cute.
A smile rose in Fan Qing’s heart, though his face remained perfectly composed.
“You forgot the reports that maligned us before? I’m guessing it’s not a question of whether he’s used them before, but how many times.”
“Before?”
Nie Luo frowned slightly as he recalled.
“You mean… he’s a repeat offender?”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
Fan Qing’s gaze followed Jing Yuan on the screen, standing by the moonlit coastline. That carefully exposed profile looked good—but remembering his previous deeds, it only made one feel disgusted.
“…Understood.”
Nie Luo lowered his eyes briefly, another thought rising in his mind. He hesitated, then looked at Fan Qing.
“So the thing you warned me about before…”
Before he could finish, Fan Qing’s face showed a brief flash of surprise.
The next moment, Fan Qing leaned in.
Nie Luo instinctively sank back into the sofa, but as an adult male, his frame wasn’t small. A slight shift left him completely against the backrest.
There was nowhere to retreat. Fan Qing already occupied half the sofa, his posture not overly muscular but clearly toned, exuding a subtle, dominating strength.
Fan Qing leaned close, his nose brushing Nie Luo’s, breaths mingling.
His gaze burned straight into Nie Luo’s.
“Nie Ge… finally looking me in the eye?”
Too close.
Nie Luo’s heart thumped loud in his ears—not fast, but painfully present.
He pressed back against the chair, lips a thin line, yet he didn’t push away. Didn’t move.
Sensing this, Fan Qing’s cheeks flushed with a hint of excitement, his eyes filled with intimacy and subtle flirtation. Words came soft, sweet as honey:
“Nie Ge… you mind me?”
Too, sweet.
Nie Luo tilted his head back, stiffening, even wanting to scratch his ear to relieve the tension. How could someone be so forward yet speak so cloyingly?
He stayed rigid, a long moment passing, before relaxing slightly. Their noses barely touched.
Fan Qing’s eyes sparkled like fireworks, joy almost spilling out, his brows and expression brimming with delight.
“Nie Ge… so, you minded me?”
Was he really that pleased?
Nie Luo blinked, a trace of confusion in his eyes, but the gaze softened, like snow melting into calm water.
With a hint of helplessness, he said:
“…Weren’t you the one who told me to mind you?”
Fan Qing laughed—light, faint, yet sweet to the point of indulgence.
“Yes… thank you, Nie Ge, for minding me.”
…He really was happy.
Nie Luo realized this, more helpless than ever. Why did he just give in? Perhaps because Fan Qing was overwhelmingly proactive, and he couldn’t miss the burning heat in those eyes.
He pressed his thin lips together, gently nudging Fan Qing’s arm:
“Sit properly—the show isn’t over yet.”
…Truly clueless about romance.
Fan Qing, slightly regretful, glanced at Nie Luo’s pale lips but obeyed, settling back. No worries—he wasn’t in a rush.
Meanwhile…
Fan Qing turned his head. Jin Yi, Huazhi, and Guan Junhao somehow squeezed onto a sofa together, mouths open, staring at them.
A glance from Fan Qing, full of lethal intensity, immediately startled them.
Jin Yi flapped like a startled pigeon, hopping to another sofa. Guan Junhao scurried after him, plopping down by Jin Yi’s feet.
Only Huazhi was left, weak, pitiful, and utterly helpless.
He looked left, looked right, then slowly flopped down on the sofa.
Already dead—don’t bother.
…And yet, he was surprisingly well-behaved.
Fan Qing shifted his gaze back to the screen, but his right hand quietly settled on Nie Luo’s thigh, where the others couldn’t see.
Nie Luo’s head snapped up.
Fan Qing’s eyes stayed fixed on the screen, lips barely moving.
“Nie Ge… didn’t you promise to mind me?”
But he hadn’t exactly promised this, had he?
A faint blush crept up Nie Luo’s ear.
After a few seconds, he reached out and grabbed Fan Qing’s hand.
Fan Qing froze. Before he could react, Nie Luo gently turned his hand over.
Fan Qing’s hand then rested lightly in Nie Luo’s warm palm, just lying there.
Nie Luo paused afterward, a little stunned himself.
He hadn’t wanted Fan Qing’s hand so close to his… thigh.
Otherwise, he might have felt… something he wasn’t ready for.
Yet now…
His ears burned red, almost painfully so, and he couldn’t believe it.
Why did merely holding Fan Qing’s hand make him feel… even more flustered than before?
Even more so than the previous “help.”