Chapter 35

In the end, they didn’t play any games. Jing Li, Ji Yunzhang, Yu Jiayuan, and Yang Yi took the initiative to serve as chefs, while the remaining six divided up the other tasks. Shen Ru, Lang Yan, and Yu Miyue helped pick and wash the vegetables, and Chen Xiaohan, Zhou Shi, and Zhou Yan handled cleaning the kitchen and dishes after dinner.

Everyone happily prepared the meal together in a lively bustle.

At seven in the evening, they all gathered around the dining table. With four ladies present, alcohol was off the table, so they toasted with tea instead, celebrating the day’s serendipitous meeting.

They set down their disposable paper cups and dove in with their chopsticks, barely able to wait.

Everyone had risen too early that morning, and lunch on the bus had been meager—just bread to stave off hunger—so they were ravenous.

Not to mention how tantalizing the aromas were, stirring up hearty appetites.

But hunger aside, Shen Ru and Lang Yan each ate only a small half bowl of rice, nibbled symbolically at a few bites of vegetables, and set down their chopsticks. Chen Xiaohan kept pace with them, though she downed an extra half bowl of soup.

The soup was Yu Jiayuan’s handiwork: Cordyceps Codonopsis Chicken Soup.

Spotting that Shen Ru had stopped, Yu Jiayuan ladled her a small bowl and coaxed her to have some. He had a knack for sweet-talking her; she resisted for just a few seconds before relenting and sipping it down.

Of the women, only Yu Miyue ate freely. As a dancer, she kept her figure in check with two hours of daily practice—even on this variety show—burning off whatever calories she took in.

Zhou Yan and Jing Li devoured the most, savoring every bite. Zhou Yan played in an indie band that hadn’t hit the big time yet, so he didn’t worry about his weight, while Jing Li simply loved food and relished good eats. Besides, he wasn’t concerned about camera angles just yet; he was still honing his craft, with no suitable script in sight.

Ji Yunzhang made a mental note of one dish Jing Li particularly favored that evening. After dinner, he sought out Yang Yi. Yang Yi blinked in surprise at the approach, then looked baffled when Ji Yunzhang asked about the Ginger Mother Duck recipe. Zhou Yan, ever observant, had clocked Jing Li’s frequent reaches for it and tipped him off quietly.

Sudden realization dawned on Yang Yi. He chuckled and walked Ji Yunzhang through the steps in detail, even sharing his “secret family recipe” without reservation.

The cameras caught the whole exchange. Jing Li wouldn’t learn of it until the variety show aired.

After dinner, they lingered for a bit of chat before calling it a night around nine. Early wake-up call tomorrow, plus a full day of exhaustion, meant everyone was ready for bed.

With the guests gone and the buzz faded, Jing Li felt the quiet keenly. Ji Yunzhang fired up his laptop for some work and, catching Jing Li lost in thought, told him to shower first.

Jing Li snapped to, murmured agreement, and dashed upstairs.

Half an hour later, footsteps announced his return. Ji Yunzhang glanced up and patted the seat beside him.

Jing Li crossed over and settled in, only to hear Custard Bun’s voice. His eyes flicked to the screen: Ji Yunzhang was video-calling his brother.

“Brother,” he said to Ji Mingyi.

Ji Mingyi sat in a living room too, but the setup marked it as his and Jiang Mengshan’s home, not the Ji Family estate.

He smiled at Jing Li by way of explanation for Custard Bun’s presence. “Yesterday we brought Mianmian and An An over. They fell head over heels for Custard Bun and wouldn’t let it go, so we took it home for now.”

He shifted the camera, bringing Custard Bun, Mianmian, and An An into view behind him. Mianmian lounged against Custard Bun’s belly while An An groomed its newly grown fur. Custard Bun lay contentedly on its side, tail flicking lazily as it hummed in bliss.

The sight was pure warmth. Jing Li drank it in for several beats before observing, “Custard Bun looks so happy.” He added to Ji Mingyi, “That’s its happy hum.”

Ji Mingyi nodded. “I know.”

“Having fun, you two?” Jiang Mengshan’s voice cut in, and there she was, sliding into frame beside Ji Mingyi with a radiant grin for Jing Li.

Ji Yunzhang lounged with one leg crossed over the other, the picture of elegant leisure. “Sister-in-Law, we just got here this afternoon.”

She blinked. “Right, slipped my mind—been swamped.”

The hotel was gearing up for a major business gala, keeping her run ragged until today.

“You headed to Snow Mountain? Jing Li, you ski?” Jiang Mengshan asked.

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Perfect—have Yunzhang teach you. He’s a pro.”

Skiing.

The idea sparked in Jing Li. He turned to Ji Yunzhang, eyes aglow under the light like captured starlight. Ji Yunzhang smiled softly, gaze tender. “Tomorrow, I’ll teach you.”

Jing Li bobbed his head like a chick pecking grain, grin splitting his face.

The entire Vacation Villa District had been booked out by the Program Team, leaving no tourists in sight. The night was peaceful, and after ten o’clock, it fell into complete silence, without so much as a whisper of sound.

After ending the video call, Ji Yunzhang rose to head upstairs for a shower, with Jing Li following close behind.

Even with other rooms available, they couldn’t very well split up under the cameras’ watchful eyes. Fortunately, during their guest stint on Ding Yixiang’s drama set a few days earlier, they had already shared a bed and grown accustomed to it.

Jing Li clambered onto the bed first, his gaze landing on the camera pointed directly at it. He hopped off, rummaged for a towel, and draped it over the lens.

But covering the camera didn’t mute the audio. Realizing this, Jing Li suddenly remembered something—he’d never asked Ji Yunzhang if he snored.

He often watched idol dramas or variety shows over meals, and he’d seen enough programs to know that snoring guests were prime material for punchlines, played up to tickle the audience.

He had zero interest in joining their ranks!

He still carried his idol burden, after all. He was far too handsome for his filters to crack.

When Ji Yunzhang returned from his shower, he found Jing Li perched at the head of the bed, clutching the quilt to his chest with a grave expression.

He approached. “Jing Li?”

Jing Li turned, words on the tip of his tongue, but he caught himself—the mic was still live. He snatched up his phone and hammered out a message. Moments later, Ji Yunzhang’s phone chimed with a WeChat alert.

The solemn look on Jing Li’s face had Ji Yunzhang bracing for dire news. Instead, opening the app revealed a dead-serious question: Did he snore? Ji Yunzhang couldn’t stifle his laugh.

Jing Li bristled and gave him a half-hearted kick.

It barely registered.

Ji Yunzhang quelled his laughter, though mirth lingered in his eyes. He climbed onto the bed and settled beside Jing Li, flicking a glance at the shrouded camera before typing a reply on his phone.

[Ji Yunzhang]: No snoring, no grinding teeth, no sleep-talking. You’re an angel when you’re asleep.

Jing Li exhaled in relief.

He set his phone aside. “Ready for bed?”

Ji Yunzhang’s voice softened. “Yeah, let’s sleep.”

“Good night.”

Jing Li programmed his alarm, slid under the covers up to his chin, and looked every bit the picture of sweet obedience. “Good night, Teacher Ji.”

He slumbered soundly through the night, undisturbed by dreams.

The next morning at seven, the group converged at the Visitor Registration Center in the Villa District.

Zhou Yan stole several glances at Jing Li before summoning the nerve to approach. “Did you catch the sunrise this morning?”

“We did,” Jing Li replied. “I filmed it on my camera. Want me to send it over later?”

Zhou Yan’s eyes lit up. “Can I?”

“Of course.”

“Then… WeChat?” Zhou Yan’s mild social anxiety made swapping contacts a rarity for him, and tension knotted his gut.

Jing Li nodded agreeably, pulled out his phone, scanned the code, and added him.

He followed up with an adorable little bear hello sticker.

Zhou Yan stared at it, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He scurried back to Yang Yi, and soon Jing Li’s phone buzzed—Zhou Yan had sent a kitten hello in return.

Jing Li grinned.

As the chatter showed no signs of slowing, Guan Lin cleared her throat. “Everyone, time for today’s first mission.”

The group fell silent.

The task was straightforward: You Draw I Guess, a staple of variety shows everywhere. Compared to ones demanding sweat or heavy thinking, this breezy game suited them just fine.

The staff had the props ready. Guan Lin asked, “Which two teachers first?”

“We’ll go,” Lang Yan said, tugging Yu Miyue forward.

Fifteen questions per round, one minute max. Their rapport shone through as they nailed nine in a row. Shen Ru and Yu Jiayuan followed with six.

Zhou Shi and Chen Xiaohan managed seven; Yang Yi and Zhou Yan, five.

Last up: Jing Li and Ji Yunzhang.

Where others flailed with wild gestures, they turned it into a casual quiz.

Jing Li, on gesturing duty, mostly just stood there. A glance at the prompt, a quick pivot in his mind, a few words aloud—and Ji Yunzhang had it.

They aced fourteen within the limit.

Jing Li sighed wistfully. “I thought we’d sweep it.”

Ji Yunzhang tousled his hair with a gentle laugh. “This is plenty. We’re number one.”

Jing Li beamed, placated at once. “You’re right.”

He bounded off gleefully to collect their first-place funds.

Funds divvied up, the morning’s work wrapped, leaving free time ahead.

A crisp hundred-yuan note in hand, Jing Li dashed back to Ji Yunzhang and yanked him along. “Teacher Ji, to the Ski Resort! Teach me to ski.”

Ji Yunzhang reined him in. “Hold on.”

Jing Li tilted his head. “Hm?”

“You need to eat breakfast first.”

Once Ji Yunzhang had spoken, he took Jing Li by the hand and led him back the way they’d come. “What do you feel like eating?”

Ji Yunzhang’s grip was firm on Jing Li’s hand, but Jing Li didn’t pull away. Instead, their fingers intertwined naturally as they walked side by side across the snow, leaving a trail of footprints in their wake.

“Milk porridge,” Jing Li replied.

“Anything else?”

“Egg pancakes.”

“Sweet or savory?”

“Sweet!”

The cameraman trailed a short distance behind them, his lens capturing every bit of their utterly mundane conversation. But as he listened in, he couldn’t help curving his lips into a smile.