A faint, elegant fragrance wafted from Yao Shuang as she drew closer. Her pleasant voice rang out clearly and confidently. She wasn’t shoving Shen Li, exactly, but she was definitely nudging the process along, clearly eager to brainstorm with him.
“Li Bro?” Yao Shuang said. “Do you think there might be another clue here? Are we really just supposed to brute-force it?”
“Mm.”
Shen Li had been sitting there, eyes closed, mentally replaying every detail and line of logic. Her voice pulled him back, forcing his eyes open.
His thick lashes fluttered lightly as he gave a soft acknowledgment.
Yao Shuang shook her head with a sigh.
Shen Li opened his mouth to say something, but just then, Yang Zhiqi submitted his answer from not far away.
No one in the audience paid it much mind—except Shen Li, whose eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
Sure enough.
An excited voice burst from behind the camera—Cao Sheng’s. “All correct! That’s incredible!”
The words had barely left his mouth when the internet exploded. A barrage of 【？】 flooded the screens.
YangZhiqiShocksEveryone#
YangZhiqiTheStrongestBrain#
The two hashtags shot up the trends in an instant.
The mic picked up Yao Shuang’s muttered “What the fuck? Are you kidding me?” crystal clear.
Even Yang Zhiqi himself stared in disbelief, eyes wide, as if he couldn’t believe it either.
Amid the clamor of the online world, in the eye of the silence—
Shen Li simply stood there, arms crossed, watching the absurd farce unfold without a word…
In the slightly chaotic footage, only Shen Li’s features remained cool and detached, emotionless—like the moon hanging high in the sky, perched at the boundary of light and shadow.
Serene. Unshakable.
Shen Li paid little heed to the others, his attention instinctively fixed on Cao Sheng.
His gaze swept over the “wall of eyes,” lingering for a long moment. Only the faint tremor in his clenched index finger betrayed him.
It wasn’t long before Cao Sheng’s announcement—and explanation—followed, just as expected.
“Ahem, time for the reveal,” Cao Sheng said. “Yang, want to walk us through it?”
Yang Zhiqi had basically guessed two numbers at random. How the hell had he nailed it? Such a tiny chance, and he’d hit it? Should’ve bought a lottery ticket instead.
“No, no, you go ahead,” Yang Zhiqi demurred with mock humility, his face splitting into a grin as he deliberately plopped down right next to Shen Li. “Haha, let me see if your analysis matches—my eyes are fried from staring. Mind if I take a quick break?”
【WTF, why him?!】
【Did he peek at the answers? Feels like they’re in on it together.】
【Disgusting. Utterly revolting.】
【Better explain this properly, or we’re reporting you [smile]】
The director’s voice-over continued.
“Here’s the thing: out of those 1,000 photos, only 20 belong to actual people—50 shots each of 20 people’s eyes at different ages, emotions, and states.
“So, it looks brutal, but if you spot that early, it’s solvable. You just need killer observation skills, endless patience, some deduction, and a bit of math…”
Click!
Before he could finish—
Every viewer waiting for answers saw the live feed switch abruptly. From a roaming wall-shot, it zeroed in on a short, middle-aged man in a black T-shirt and black cap, microphone in hand, mid-sentence!
The director himself, no doubt.
【Whoa, sudden camera switch! Scared me!】
【Lol, director looks spooked too】
【Who’d guess that misdirection? Still tough.】
【But if it’s just two out of 20, odds are way better.】
【Such good odds, and Shen Li missed it?】
【Dunno why, but something feels off.】
“…Mr. Shen, could you please move our fixed camera back?” Cao Sheng tugged his cap brim lower, smile still plastered on. “What are you doing? That’s against the rules.”
Only then did viewers notice Shen Li had vanished from the frame.
Instead, the lens zoomed in endlessly on Cao Sheng, magnifying until even his pores were in sharp relief.
The next second, Shen Li’s voice came through—clear, smooth, and crisp, caught perfectly by the mic. It sounded almost like a chuckle, though it might not have been.
“How is it against the rules? Seems perfectly fair to me.”
Cao Sheng yanked at his hat again; the flesh at his mouth twitched. “…What?”
Shen Li’s calm, even tone followed.
“The camera should be pointed at the victim from the start—not whoever’s spinning tales.”
Cao Sheng: ?!
“Are you done?” Shen Li asked. “If so, it’s my turn.”
In the next instant—
Bewildered viewers watched as the camera originally on Yang Zhiqi flipped to display the two eye photos he had selected—whoever was controlling it had made it happen.
Indeed, the ones Yang Zhiqi picked: #142 and #696.
A beat.
Then Shen Li’s cool, measured voice took command of the rhythm, like a storyteller spinning a late-night tale.
“The differences between human irises lie mainly in their complex microstructures and unique biometric traits. Even to the naked eye, similar irises show stark individual variances under magnification.”
【Huh? What’s this?】
【No clue what’s going on, but I’m hyped…】
【My head hurts… Brain’s mush… Don’t make us solve it… Gimme medicine [teary-eyed].jpg】
【Little Li, pretty please break down the wrong and right answers for us [pitiful]】
Shen Li tapped his knuckles twice against something.
Within three seconds—
The screen split into a 2×2 grid: #142, #696, and the two child eyes from the prompt—four images total.
Shen Li’s voice explained steadily.
“Lifetime-stable iris features with high consistency generally fall into three categories: the topological structure of iris textures, the topological paths of microvascular networks, and the foundational structure of muscle attachment points.”
【？？？】
【What?】
【Speak English, darling?!】
“Neither of Yang Zhiqi’s picks matches.”
As Shen Li delivered his verdict, the image zoomed in. Markers appeared in real time—Shen Li’s neat, forceful handwriting off to the side as a legend:
① Crypts
② Furrows
③ Corona
Each pair of eyes had two or three spots circled, labeled ①②③ in quick succession. Then the stylus drew several lines.
④ Main trunk paths and branching topology of capillaries in the iris stroma
【Oh, so this screen’s linked to Shen Li’s iPad now?】
【Whoa… Mom, am I in anatomy class? [smile]】
【No idea what’s up, but Shen Li seems legit?】
【AHHHHHH SHEN LI DON’T KILL ME WITH YOUR HANDSOMENESS!!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!! STOP TEACHING!!! STOP BEING SO CHARMING!!! Qian Xingzhi (crossed out) I CAN’T BREATHE QAQ】
“These markers prove it—these two pairs of eyes are entirely different,” Shen Li said, his voice smooth as still water. “Conclusion: #142 and #696 aren’t the matches.”
With a warm reminder, Shen Li added, “Anyone who needs this, screenshot now for later review. Otherwise, turning the page.”
【Holy shit!! Screenshot taken, go wild!!】
【But isn’t it weird? Why are 142 and 696 wrong when the director said right?】
As if anticipating the barrage, Shen Li swiped with long fingers, flipping to the next screen.
225 and #586 appeared boldly, alongside the two child eyes.
“The correct ones are here,” Shen Li said, a faint, almost imperceptible weariness threading his voice. His stylus flew—swift and precise. “Beyond the ① to ④ markers, check the embedding positions and initial wrinkle forms of the pupillary sphincter and dilator muscles in the iris stroma. Those stay constant for life—just glance if you know what to look for. Main thing is verifying I’m not lying.”
He emphasized “lying.”
Not just online—the set erupted into chaos, the scene descending into pandemonium.
Cao Sheng had vanished from his spot; the camera aimed at him now showed empty space. Yang Zhiqi bounded in like an excited gorilla, then hopped away, yelling, “What the hell? What’s going on? Why’d the director say I got it right? …No, I swear I don’t know! I picked at random!”
Yao Shuang had already walked up to Shen Li’s side, giving his arm a supportive pat.
Shen Li raised his calm, indifferent gaze and glanced at Yao Shuang before continuing.
“Actually, these thousand pairs of eyes don’t belong to just twenty people—they’re from a thousand extras at Hengdian. The two target characters we had to find get paid five hundred yuan a day during filming, which is why our bonuses were set at five hundred units of virtual currency each.
“I just don’t know why Director Cao Sheng decided to change the rules at the last minute—
“Anyway, that’s all.”
The moment Shen Li finished speaking, the feed from the D Project Site went dark, leaving just two pitch-black screens behind.
Having witnessed this live stream packed with one twist after another, the viewers were jumping around in excitement as they dove into a heated discussion:
【Holy crap, is this infighting in the Program Group?】
【Let’s see what the official Weibo says later. This is getting wild.】
【Shen Li’s screen was hooked up by Qian Xingzhi, right??!】
【I’m numb [dead]. Scripted or not, I’m genuinely in awe [dead].】
【If it was a last-minute sabotage, that reaction time was lightning-fast. If it’s scripted… drawing that fast deserves props for the prep work [smirk].】
【Am I the only one who thinks Shen Li really found the right two out of a thousand pics, only to get screwed by the bad guy, then teamed up with his ex to get revenge and slap back?】
【If that’s the case, Qian Xingzhi could’ve just straight-up told him the right numbers.】
【Why does it feel like all these game segments in this variety show are little games set up by Qian Dog for his ex? Shooting one day, The Strongest Brain the next, and that deduction game on day three—damn, it’s all stuff Shen Li’s good at.】
【Whoa, you think it’s all manufactured persona-building?! Ironclad script.】
【Spot on upstairs. Now I’m even doubting if they were ever actually together.】
【Nah nah, don’t you think some details are still super fishy?! That little story felt off, and Shen Li twisting the camera toward the director…】
【Damn, handsome enough to kill [dead]】
【Correction: handsome enough to kill dogs and people alike [dead]】
Just five minutes later, the drama-hungry crowd got their wish: an official Weibo post from the Program Group.
【@”Broke Defense? Ex-Husband Bro” Program Group Official-V:
Director @Cao Sheng-V ran into some issues and is under investigation. We’ve replaced him.
All other segments follow what Shen Li said.】
—10,431 replies—
【@Some Nameless Netizen: Who the hell’s PR team is this? Fast as hell, but that tone is savage [confused]】
【@GoodPersonGood //Replying to @Some Nameless Netizen: “Follow what Shen Li said,” and you still don’t know who?】
Qian Xingzhi delegated the work and kept handling things straight through till evening.
Because of the sudden mishap, the nighttime live stream was scrapped for the night, replaced with an observation room recap and live shopping session.
By the time Qian Xingzhi made it back to his little cabin, it was already around eight at night. He hadn’t eaten yet or taken a shower—he’d gotten dragged through the mud of the C Project mess and only had time to change clothes.
With the live stream canceled, the evening “date” segment turned into free time.
Yao Shuang had already headed out early. The guests in the cabin had lucked out from the chaos: no more nerve-wracking work, no pay docked, everyone thrilled. Some clustered in groups to chat, while others simply returned to their rooms for some early rest.
Naturally, Shen Li was one of those who turned in early.
Qian Xingzhi gave a few absentminded replies to greetings and questions as he scanned the living room. No sign of Shen Li.
So, taking the stairs two at a time, Qian Xingzhi headed upstairs, swiped his card, and entered the room.
He pushed open the door to the faint sound of running water from the shower.
Shen Li was taking a bath.
Qian Xingzhi’s eyes narrowed slightly, his deep gaze sweeping over the narrow bathroom door.
Warm yellow light spilled out from the frosted glass panel—like fireworks bursting forth—and just then, the water cut off abruptly.
Shen Li’s cool, even voice carried a hint of uncertainty as he tested the waters.
“…Xingzhi?”
“Mm.”
Qian Xingzhi responded in his cold tone, and the water in the bathroom started running again.
A long while passed.
With a sharp click, a slender hand firmly pressed down on the room door’s lock from the outside.
