Chapter 11

As soon as Shen Li finished speaking, Ke Jiujiu’s face flushed an even deeper red.

She hadn’t expected someone who looked so respectable like Shen Li to say such undignified things right in front of the camera.

She hadn’t provoked him at all, had she?

She had been perfectly polite to him, offering emotional support and expressing her admiration—no small feat, even compared to how she’d treated Ex-Husband Bro. Yet somehow, she’d offended him, and now he was coming at her with such sharp barbs, leaving her utterly humiliated!

Could it be…

Li Weiwei was his ex-wife, right?

Ke Jiujiu recalled how Li Weiwei had abruptly left the team and handed the opportunity to Shen Li, while confidently insisting that his “shooting champion” title wasn’t fake. Who knew—they might have known each other before!

So, was it possible that Li Weiwei had gone back and told Shen Li about their argument in the woods, and now Shen Li was stepping in to defend his ex-wife?

The more Ke Jiujiu thought about it, the more indignant she felt, her face burning hotter with every passing second. Her big, watery eyes blinked a couple of times, brimming with tears, and even her voice took on a hint of a sob. “Shen Li, if you keep talking like that, I’m really going to feel hurt.”

It came out of nowhere.

Shen Li blinked, his long, elegant eyebrows arching slightly in confusion. He even half-wished for a real-time translator.

Was this woman really just blurting out whatever dream popped into her head?

What was she even trying to do?

Shen Li licked his lips, at a complete loss for how to respond. Just then, Ke Jiujiu turned away in clear frustration, her plump little mouth pursed, the oversized bow on her head bobbing indignantly as she stormed off in quick steps toward Kris, who was waiting in the distance.

Lin Xu, who had been following behind her, glanced at Shen Li but said nothing. He simply slung the two guns over his shoulder and walked away.

Shen Li finally let out a breath of relief. Money was hard-earned and shit was hard to swallow—this mental pollution was what he got for chasing the cash. Who else could he blame but himself? As he thought it over, any lingering resentment evaporated, and even his steps down the mountain felt lighter. He comforted himself along the way:

This gig wasn’t half bad. Plenty of sleep, guns to fondle, and twenty grand a day to boot.

Once the show wrapped and that three million hit his account, it’d cover the loan for the school and leave enough for at least three years of operating costs.

Not bad at all.

No wonder everyone racked their brains and fought tooth and nail to break into showbiz. Men die for riches, birds for food.

Shen Li sighed, his gaze dropping to the mountain path ahead. Suddenly, the road seemed long and arduous.

All around him, there were still so many people who could only afford outdated smartphones from over a decade ago—fifty bucks apiece was too steep. So many others slaved away from dawn till dusk, clocking over ten hours a day, yet in two years, they couldn’t earn what he made from a single day’s appearance fee…

The thoughts soured Shen Li’s mood further. His long lashes cast faint shadows under his eyes, adding a touch of melancholy and serenity to his otherwise flawlessly perfect face.

Going up had been a rush, time constraints pushing them toward the hunting ground with Yang Zhiqi chattering nonstop in his ear—he hadn’t noticed how tough the path was.

But descending with depleted stamina, his overworked injured leg throbbing in protest, the other guests long gone, and only a relentless follow-cam zooming in on his every move… Thinking of his old comrades, acquaintances, and even his mother watching, Shen Li forced himself to stay upright, trying not to look too wretched.

It was no use. With his level of disability, hiding the limp was impossible.

No matter how straight he held his back or how tightly he clenched his jaw, the close-up lens caught every pitiful hint of it—three or four points out of ten, at least.

Whatever.

Shen Li closed his eyes briefly, shoving the thoughts aside, and gritted his teeth to keep going. Right then—

A low, magnetic voice drifted from behind, unhurried: “Shen Li?”

Shen Li turned.

There stood a man around six feet tall, sturdy and upright, with a buzz cut and square face. Dressed in athletic gear and shouldering a gun, he exuded crisp competence and handsomeness. Sunglasses hid his eyes, but Shen Li remembered his features well.

Jiang Nan.

This guy’s presence wasn’t as strong as some of the other guests, but what stuck in Shen Li’s mind was his piercingly sharp eyes—and the nagging sense that he’d seen him somewhere before.

It could be nothing. Shen Li had seen too many faces, especially back in his casework days, sifting through thousands of ID photos for suspects. He’d probably glanced at Jiang Nan’s mugshot once, which explained the vague familiarity. He hadn’t dwelled on it at first.

Shen Li paused slightly, letting the man catch up.

But the next moment brought something Shen Li never saw coming.

Jiang Nan, who stood half a head taller, boldly wedged himself between Shen Li and the cameraman. In that same captivating voice, polite and composed, he said to the cinematographer, “Camera guy—mind if I walk like this? I’d like to chat with Teacher Shen.”

The path was narrow, barely room for two abreast.

With Jiang Nan beside him, the camera couldn’t shoot from the side anymore.

The cameraman scratched his head, reluctant to refuse. “Sure,” he said, then shuffled ahead of them, walking backward to capture their faces.

But the steep terrain made that tricky, so he pivoted to trailing behind, filming their backs instead.

Shen Li frowned and glanced back sensitively.

Now the lens would only catch Jiang Nan full-on and half of Shen Li—meaning it couldn’t pick up his awkward limp anymore. The taller man had positioned himself half a step behind, cleverly shielding Shen Li’s gait.

Shen Li’s frown deepened, more from surprise at the gesture than anything. He couldn’t yet tell if it was deliberate, but gratitude welled up regardless.

The man’s pleasant voice continued: “Teacher Shen, I heard you took down something pushing two hundred pounds? For real?”

Shen Li nodded. “Yeah.”

“Impressive. Thanks,” Jiang Nan said casually, keeping the conversation light. “Or we’d all be going hungry tonight.”

Shen Li replied politely, “No problem.”

Then, with a touch of familiarity, the man asked, “Heard there’s a one-on-one date segment tonight. Any thoughts, Teacher Shen?”

Shen Li’s ink-black pupils contracted at the question. Instinctively, he pictured Qian Xingzhi watching, and his long-dormant survival instincts blared like alarms:

Better tread carefully with this one, or some screen out there might soon feature a sulking golden retriever with a cold glare.

It had taken a year to coax him last time.

After a moment’s thought, Shen Li answered coolly: “Nah, no ideas.”

It came out decidedly aloof.

Amusement laced Jiang Nan’s tone, like he’d seen right through it. “No ulterior motives here—just saying, if you don’t have other plans, pick me. I’d love to be friends with you.”

“Why?” Shen Li asked straight out.

“Your marksmanship is killer,” Jiang Nan said with a casual shrug, as if it were obvious. He explained, “What I mean is, if we’re both solo, we could team up for a ‘friendship date.’ But if you’ve got someone else in mind, that’s cool too.”

Jiang Nan’s words rang sincere, and he put extra weight on three particular ones that hit Shen Li right in the feels.

Friendship date?

That sounded safe enough. Shen Li didn’t mince words: “Sure, a friendship date’s on the table.”

Jiang Nan grinned broadly at his frankness. “Deal then? If neither of us has better options, we pair up?”

Shen Li wasn’t sure on the exact pairing rules, but he appreciated the lens-block and figured agreeing cost nothing. Qian Xingzhi wasn’t even in the show—who he dated didn’t matter. Jiang Nan seemed sharp and considerate; talking with him wouldn’t be a hassle, at least.

“Sure.” As Shen Li agreed, Jiang Nan made what looked like an offhand move.

He leaned in toward Shen Li’s right shoulder, draping an arm over the nearby railing and brushing against him.

Perfectly normal—a friendly shoulder pat. If not for the faint, fleeting touch at his waist right after.

Shen Li’s dark pupils narrowed warily. He glanced down at Jiang Nan’s hand, but the man had already pulled back.

It was like nothing had happened.

Shen Li’s brows knit tighter, but he let it drop.

They exited the woods and headed down the mountain, where a shuttle took them back to the cabins. Exhausted, Shen Li feigned sleep to dodge any more chit-chat.

The ten-minute ride flew by. Before they even reached the door, a theatrical mechanical voice blared from the loudspeaker, humming a cheeky little tune:

“What a shame it’s not you ~ by my side till the end ~ We walked together but parted at the crossroads ~

“After a hard day’s work, you all finally get dinner ~

“Now, let your butler know who you want to date tonight—

“The butler will prepare a candlelit dinner for every successful pair!

“So, night dates… begin ~”