【Aaaah, baby, you’re super cute too!】
【So he didn’t respond to the first half! Didn’t deny he’s the ex-husband! Didn’t deny he still has feelings! He just said he can’t have Little Cat!!!】
【If I say I think Shen Li is kinda putting on an act, will someone curse me out? (super quiet) His answer to the first question was already weird. If he really doesn’t want to get into showbiz, why go on this show? If they want to remarry, couldn’t they just go straight to the Civil Affairs Bureau? Coming on the show to farm clout???】
【Didn’t you see? The top five results are out. Lin Xu x Ke Jiujiu, Yang Zhiqi x Zhao Yunzhi. Of the four people left in the cabin including Shen Li, two have been married to the two guests in the observation room before. That’s already a pretty high probability.】
【I get what you mean upstairs. Shen Li might really be some celebrity’s ex, and he’s here cooperating with them on the variety show.】
【I think when Shen Li said he doesn’t want to enter showbiz, he was telling the truth. Look at that face—does it look like it could lie???】
【Secretly married and secretly divorced celebrities are the worst, right? Clearly married but claiming to be single to fans, so gross. Now divorced and suddenly want to remarry, serving us shit on a platter? What were they doing before?】
【Only when the car crashes into the wall do they swerve, stocks skyrocket and they buy, snot drips to their lips and they wipe it, wife runs off and they repent. Haha.】
【But not every celeb relies on fan spending power to eat, right? Think about it—has Qian Xingzhi ever said he’s single since debuting?】
【Seems like…】
【Damn!】
【Could it really be this old guy who snatched the cabbage???】
【Oh my god, I’m actually starting to ship Shen Li and Qian Xingzhi. How great would that be!! Even though they’ve never appeared on screen together, they match so well!!!】
【Qian Xingzhi fans, did you miss the new hot search? The script Qian Xingzhi took is already locked in—it’s just to hype the show.】
【I saw it. Insiders are spilling that Qian Xingzhi is only filming for two days, the first and third. He won’t participate after that.】
23:30
Once the other guests’ questions wrapped up, the cameras in the cabin and observation room cut off the live stream right on schedule.
Without a word, Qian Xingzhi stepped offstage, switched his silenced phone to ring mode, and fired off a PDF file to Shen Li’s assistant, Lin Jie. He added a note: after hanging up on Shen Li’s call, make sure to review it thoroughly.
Without waiting for Lin Jie’s reply, Qian Xingzhi pulled up Weibo’s trending topics while borrowing his assistant’s phone. He punched in a number himself and dialed.
The moment the call connected, Qian Xingzhi’s interrogation hit without mercy, straight to the face:
“Zhen Youcai? What the hell are you trying to pull?”
Zhen Youcai was the real name of the washed-up actor Zhen Tian. Once Qian Xingzhi learned it, he found it easy to remember and stuck with it.
“Daring to call your old man by name directly? Even my own dad doesn’t do that anymore. Who the fuck are you?”
“Qian Xingzhi.”
“Uh, Brother Qian—ah, sorry, bro! Sigh, what a mess this is! Why didn’t you use WeChat? I thought it was a scam call!”
Qian Xingzhi had no patience for his bullshit and cut straight to it. “Those hot searches—your doing?”
“Huh?”
Zhen Tian paused, then his laughing tone kicked in. “Me? How could it be? Those four 1s aren’t on your tab!”
Qian Xingzhi gritted his teeth, at the end of his patience. “You know exactly which hot search I mean.”
Zhen Tian hesitated a beat before saying, “Oh, that one?”
“And,” Qian Xingzhi said, each word deliberate, his voice icy, “how come I didn’t know I’m only filming two days? You decide that?”
Zhen Tian shivered, sucking in a sharp breath as he tried to weasel out. “That wasn’t some paparazzi marketing account spouting crap…”
“You saying it’s got nothing to do with you?”
“I…”
Under Qian Xingzhi’s merciless grilling, Zhen Tian finally came clean. “Bro, I—I can’t control that. It was my company. I don’t have a say. I already chewed them out, for real. Don’t believe me? Ask my assistant.”
Qian Xingzhi let out a cold laugh. “Whether I believe you or not, you know the score. You probably think throwing out a hot search like that—something that’ll fall apart eventually—is no big deal. Or you got lucky thinking I wouldn’t trace it back to you?”
“Brother Qian…”
Qian Xingzhi had it all figured out now and didn’t hold back. “You wanted to enter the cabin a day ahead of me for that extra screen time, so you cooked up this topic?”
Zhen Youcai was speechless. Qian Xingzhi had nailed it.
He’d banked on Qian Xingzhi not making a fuss over something so minor. After all, entering on the third day or fourth made little difference to him—Qian Xingzhi didn’t need the extra traffic.
But for a faded idol like Zhen Tian, living off scraps of popularity, every day counted.
A show this massive meant one more day of exposure equaled one more day of hype.
After his fallout with his groupmates, he’d lost over 60% of his fans. Desperate and washed up, he’d had his company cook up this ex-lover CP script, starting from day three with a daily storyline.
Getting in early would make things smoother.
At the start, he’d haggled with the program group’s directors multiple times: could he enter on the third day, pushing Qian Xingzhi back by one?
The director shot it down, citing respect for audience votes and authenticity—no backroom deals.
What bullshit.
Name a show nowadays that didn’t rig things?
So Zhen Tian had his company drop those hot searches to muddy the waters. With Qian Xingzhi skipping tomorrow’s live stream, he could sprinkle in some sweet fan-service moments.
Then, when the voting channel opened tomorrow, viewers would vote him in first.
But Zhen Tian hadn’t expected Qian Xingzhi to care this much—or to be so eager to stir up CP hype with his ex-wife?
Wasn’t Qian Xingzhi basically a big shot investor now?
If Zhen Tian were in his shoes, forget remarrying—he wouldn’t even want a stunning first marriage.
“It’s not like that, Brother Qian. I really didn’t know you’d care this much…”
Qian Xingzhi narrowed his eyes, issuing a warning. “Mind your own business whether I care or not. I’m telling you—for clicks, pulling low-class stunts like this, treating viewers like idiots—the only one getting burned in the end will be—”
You yourself.
He didn’t get the last three words out. His own phone rang.
Qian Xingzhi glanced at the number and abruptly ended the call.
“—that’s it.”
Zhen Youcai stared blankly at his end of the line.
On this side, the female assistant smiled knowingly.
Without needing her boss’s cue, she took back her phone, stepped out of the break room, and closed the door behind her.
The ringtone hit its fifth chime before the call connected.
Shen Li tilted his head to press the phone to his ear. He sat ramrod straight on the toilet lid, eyes lowered slightly. He waited for Qian Xingzhi to say the first “hello,” then spoke coolly:
“You busy?”
The voice was detached, but it carried a hint of gentleness.
“Nope.”
Qian Xingzhi fired back a single word.
“So what are you doing?”
“Waiting for your call.”
“…”
Shen Li’s throat itched. He could feel his heart rate spiking to at least 1.25 times what it had been during his call with Lin Jie moments ago.
But Shen Li wasn’t one to dwell or confront his feelings head-on. He chalked the odd tension up to his usual physiological response whenever he got close to Qian Xingzhi.
So, just as he had with Lin Jie, he cut to the chase and led with Jiang Nan.
“Don’t you think you should’ve come clean to me first about this Jiang Nan guy?”
Shen Li added a touch of challenge to his tone, even though he hadn’t planned to.
Qian Xingzhi cleared his throat.
Channeling the sassy bubblegum voice of Shen Li’s favorite loading-dock senior back in school days—like a total try-hard—he nearly gave Shen Li a stroke:
“Figured since you’ve been out of the cop game for a bit, I’d hook you up with someone to spar with. What, couldn’t you pry anything out of him yourself?”
The words landed.
Shen Li gritted his teeth instantly, a faint blue vein popping on his pale forehead. It took considerable effort to swallow back the words, “Are you looking to die?”
“Three.”
Qian Xingzhi: ?
“Two.”
Qian Xingzhi: …!
“On—”
“Ahem!”
The lazy drawl in the receiver turned urgent, cutting off Shen Li’s countdown. “Ah, Jiang Nan’s from WCC Company. Scheming little shit, spoiled rotten his whole life, real cocky.”
Shen Li’s pretty almond eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Oh.” Qian Xingzhi’s lips curved up. “The WCC investigation—I’ve actually been on it for three years. Got some leads now. Lots of details—I just sent a file to Lin Jie. Want one too? I guess I can spare you a copy.”
Shen Li’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You sent one to Lin Jie? When?”
“Just now,” Qian Xingzhi said. “You called her first, right? So I sent her the file ahead. You don’t mind, do you?”
Shen Li was at a loss for words.
What the hell was this dog playing at?
Talking all green tea bitch vibes. Been munching on tea cakes?
Still, if Qian Xingzhi had a plan and was handling things properly, that eased most of Shen Li’s worries. From the sound of it, Qian Xingzhi had people lined up to liaise with the police. All they needed to do was leverage the show’s traffic to stir some noise.
No need to hash out details over a call the program group might monitor.
Shen Li let out a soft sigh and checked the time. Fifteen minutes left.
Qian Xingzhi paused. “Why the silence? Not gonna hang up, are you?”
Shen Li choked a bit, lips pressing together as he frowned faintly. “I’m about to shower.”
Qian Xingzhi: .
Five seconds.
Ten seconds.
Deafening silence stretched on. Neither hung up first.
Finally, as Shen Li stewed in the awkward distance amid Qian Xingzhi’s breathing, he heard the man’s voice, muffled—not joking:
“Go ahead and shower. It’s not a video call. Can’t you chat while you wash?”
