Ye Zhinian had assumed joining a variety show crew was no different from joining a drama crew.
Drama crews did table reads and costume fittings—a variety show should be roughly the same.
Even if Utopia advertised itself as having absolutely no script or personas, airing in livestream format, it was still a variety show—there had to be a general shooting plan, and any issues should have been discussed in advance meetings.
So when men in production-team T-shirts and sunglasses hauled him away, he was completely dumbfounded.
Even with the livestream camera’s lens practically shoved in his face, it didn’t register. He asked blankly, “Is this… for the teaser trailer?”
The Follow-shot Director didn’t answer—but the Bullet Comments had already gone insane.
[Who is he? The ancient Greek god presiding over beauty?]
[Butler, I want his entire file within one minute!]
[That face could hold me spellbound for a lifetime]
[I’m just gonna pull a big move called “calling him wife”!]
[Hi there, gorgeous. Interested in dating? (Doge holding a rose in its mouth)]
[He isn’t the “friend” Liu Chen mentioned, is he? A face like that and he never got famous???]
[AHHHHHH NIANNIAN AHHHHHHH!!!]
Amid the dense wall of Bullet Comments, one screaming rubber chicken stood out: a girl with a toothbrush clamped in her mouth was jumping and shrieking on her dorm balcony, phone clutched in both hands—and eventually, she actually burst into tears.
It took a while for her to calm down. Rinsing her mouth in a couple of quick swishes, she switched out of the livestream and into Ye Zhinian’s Weibo Super Topic to make a post.
@Rice Cake-cake-cake-cake: NIANNIAN IS ON A VARIETY SHOW! Starfruit Video’s Utopia—GO WATCH IT AHHHHH!
—Sis, do you mean Niannian is also watching this show?
—Really? Should I go buy a Starfruit SVIP membership then? The kind that sends rainbow-colored Bullet Comments—to catch Niannian’s attention [Shy]
—HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! It’s real! It’s really Niannian!
—Huh? Keep dreaming, you two. Since when would Fangyuan let Niannian on a variety show.
—[Utopia Ye Zhinian Screenshot.jpg]
—HOLY SHIT! WIFE!!!
—Rice Cake Promo Squad, move out!
Soon several SVIP rainbow Bullet Comments appeared in Utopia’s livestream, howling “wife!” while lecturing everyone on the full name and credentials of one Ye Zhinian.
Naturally, Ye Zhinian had no idea his meager little fanbase was working so hard on his promo. Only after being ushered into the VIP lounge and pressed onto the sofa did he realize that the show might, perhaps, possibly… have already started.
Staring at the camera in front of him and the Follow-shot Director wearing a crew badge, Ye Zhinian belatedly asked, “It’s starting now?”
The camera nodded.
“What about the other guests?” Surely this wouldn’t get in the way of watching the battlefield up close?
The Follow-shot Director answered, “Some guests have already boarded their flights to Hu City, some haven’t arrived yet. You’re the third.”
There were more than twenty flights a day from Jing City to Hu City, each three hours long—which meant each person would have a three-hour gap in the livestream.
To fill the gaps, the production team had devised a plan to film the guests being sent off one by one, with tickets booked according to the schedule.
By the time everyone had departed, the first person to board would just be landing—perfectly bridging the livestream.
Ye Zhinian understood. He nodded. “I see. So what do we do now?”
“A short interview. First, please introduce yourself to the camera.”
“Mm… Hello everyone, my name is Ye Zhinian. Ye as in leaf, zhi as in know, nian as in year. I’m twenty-seven this year, and I’m an actor.” Perhaps finding it awkward to introduce himself so solemnly to the camera, Ye Zhinian pressed his lips together in a smile the moment he finished—and the Bullet Comments promptly exploded again.
[AHHHHHH! I’M DECEASED!]
[Wife’s name is so pretty~ no wait, wife’s smile is so lovely~]
[Does anyone grasp the sheer gold-grade quality of this smile?! Editors, where are you? I want a GIF of this smile within the hour!]
[An actor? If that face had ever been on screen, there’s no way I wouldn’t remember it]
[Found it. All web movies and short dramas. His best role was the Third Male Lead in Smiling in the Spring Breeze—a disfigured character who wears a mask the entire show]
[??? He’s really Liu Chen’s friend? doge]
[Schrödinger’s friend doge]
The Follow-shot Director also seemed to have been struck down by that smile, taking a moment before he could ask, “Teacher Ye, is this your first time recording a variety show?”
Ye Zhinian nodded. “Yes.”
“Then why come on our show?”
At the question, a complicated expression flickered across Ye Zhinian’s face—somewhat wistful, somewhat melancholy, but above all grateful. “It was A-Chen’s introduction that gave me the chance to take part in the recording.”
The Follow-shot Director froze.
Reason told him this answer was pure acting, devoid of feeling. But the emotions so plainly written on Ye Zhinian’s face suggested every word was true.
But—how? That was Liu Chen they were talking about!
The only artist to demand an RV Motorhome from the production team, marching into the crew with a full five staff members in tow—even Top Star Lu Chen wasn’t acting this high and mighty!
And this so-called good friend of Liu Chen’s? Dragging his luggage all by himself without even an assistant! He was even bare-faced right now!
It wasn’t just the Follow-shot Director questioning his entire existence—the Bullet Comments were at war over Ye Zhinian’s words too.
[Life is a stage, it’s all in the acting. Anyway, I don’t believe someone like Liu Chen can have friends]
[At first I figured he wasn’t famous because his acting was bad. Now? His acting is not bad at all, huh doge]
[This ability to lie through his teeth with a straight face—respect]
[Some people are just born friendless orphans and can’t stand to see anyone else have friends, huh]
[Whether Liu Chen and he are friends is debatable, but some people really are rotten enough to not deserve friends]
[Watch your mouth. If Liu Chen were really his friend, would he stand by and watch a friend act in all those awful productions?]
[Oh? So friendship comes with lifetime after-sales service now? Then how much do you pay your friends a month?]
Not ten minutes into his appearance, Ye Zhinian had already contributed three Hot Searches to the show: #Utopia Beauty# #Ye Zhinian’s Smile# #Ye Zhinian’s Acting#.
Though none ranked high on the list—all hovering around twentieth to thirtieth place—unlike the bought high-ranking Hot Searches of other guests, pushed by teams or the production itself, these were genuine, organic numbers chatted up by passersby.
If, before the show, Ye Zhinian had been an unknown Third-Tier artist, then from this moment on, he had taken his first step toward the second tier.
Afterward, the Follow-shot Director asked questions like “How did you meet Liu Chen?” and “Any fun memories together?”—all of which Ye Zhinian parried with the rehearsed lines he had prepared in advance.
When the interview ended, Ye Zhinian boarded his flight without a hitch, and the livestream camera cut to the next guest.
Seeing the cameraman finally lower his rig, Ye Zhinian asked the Follow-shot Director curiously, “Will you be following me the whole time?”
The Follow-shot Director suppressed his hammering heart and turned, a bit flustered, to point at the cameraman and camera assistant. “I—we three are assigned specifically to follow you.”
Ye Zhinian flashed the three of them a bright smile. “Then I’m in your hands. I have no variety show experience, so I may not handle the camera well. If there’s anything I should watch out for, please don’t hold back—just tell me straight.”
At that one smile, the number of people clutching their chests instantly went from one to three, and three grown men nodded like a row of woodpeckers.
“Don’t you worry, Teacher Ye.”
“Leave it to us, Teacher Ye.”
“You’re too kind, Teacher Ye.”
When the chorus of “Teacher Ye”s finally died down, a smile blending curiosity with a touch of craftiness crossed Ye Zhinian’s face. “Also, I’d like to ask—who are the unannounced guests besides me? Is it the people the internet’s been guessing?”
The Follow-Shot Crew exchanged glances. Only after a while did the Follow-shot Director manage, “You’ll know when you arrive at the filming location.”
“Can’t you give me a hint in advance?”
The Follow-shot Director shook his head with iron resolve. “We signed NDAs—we absolutely cannot reveal information about unannounced guests. It’s also so we can capture the guests’ genuine reactions.”
Seeing Ye Zhinian’s crestfallen face, the Follow-shot Director held back, then failed to hold back, offering a hint: “The last guest can’t arrive until the afternoon because of work. He’s… very, very famous.”
Catching the hint, Ye Zhinian curled his lips in a smile—but inwardly, he was unimpressed.
Very famous? How famous could ‘very famous’ possibly be? Famous enough to compare with his husband?
Three hours later, Ye Zhinian’s plane touched down in Hu City, and he boarded a Nanny Van arranged by the production team, heading straight for the filming location.
Along the way, the cameraman hoisted his rig once more. From behind the camera, the Follow-shot Director chatted with Ye Zhinian about his career and the people and events he had encountered over those not-so-short years.
About his less-than-successful career, Ye Zhinian displayed an open-mindedness that caught people off guard.
He attributed his failures to offending too many people with youthful arrogance. To the Follow-shot Director’s question—”Why not seek help from friends?”—he answered with a soft laugh.
“I’ve always felt that when friendship gets mixed with self-interest, it inevitably sours. I treasure A-Chen as a friend—I don’t want us to part ways over tangled interests. Besides, as the old saying goes: lean on a mountain and the mountain crumbles; lean on a person and the person runs. In the end, you can only rely on yourself.”
[Damn, those words hit way too close to home. Me and my childhood bestie cut ties over going into business together]
[I’m starting to believe he and Liu Chen are real friends]
[Still don’t buy it. With a personality as rotten as Liu Chen’s, how could he have a friend this emotionally stable?]
[Maybe that’s exactly why they became friends? Opposites attract and all that]
[Has anyone considered the possibility that Liu Chen might not be the person you all imagine?]
[Oh? And what kind of person is he, exactly? The kind who cusses out Set Crew Members on set? doge]
[Fans, stop whitewashing. That video of Liu Chen is still out there—the internet has a memory!]
After a journey of over an hour, Ye Zhinian finally arrived at Utopia’s filming location.
The location sat in a mountain valley in one of Hu City’s rural districts, ringed by hills on three sides, spread with fertile farmland, and dotted with farm courtyards of every description. The village straddled modernity and the pristine wild—water and electricity had evidently been connected, yet the air still carried the woodsmoke scent of a countryside stove.
The Nanny Van could only make it as far as the small plaza connecting the village to the national highway. The remaining road was paved too, but narrow—three-wheeler rickshaws could pass, but a behemoth like a Nanny Van clearly couldn’t.
The moment he reached the plaza, Ye Zhinian’s sharp eyes spotted an RV Motorhome parked at its edge. Guessing it was probably what the production team had prepared for Liu Chen, he asked nothing, simply standing to get off.
Just then, another Nanny Van pulled up, and a pink-haired boy leapt out, charging toward the RV with a shout.
“Whoa! There’s actually an RV here? Did the production team prepare it?”
Ye Zhinian: “…”
Follow-shot Director: “…”
To gather all the guests as quickly as possible, the production team scheduled everyone’s flights within a similar window. But airlines fly at different speeds, so some guests departed earlier yet arrived later.
Meanwhile, inside the Nanny Vans, each Follow-shot Director’s questioning pace was controlled by the Chief Director. Under his coordination, the cameras cut between one another, stitching the interviews together and cutting down on useless dead-air footage.
When the pink-haired boy had hopped out, the camera had happened to be on Ye Zhinian—but his voice was still picked up. Not loud, but clearly audible.
The Follow-shot Director assigned to the pink-haired boy wore a look of helpless resignation, stepping up to pat his shoulder and whisper in his ear. The pink-haired boy then put on an “oops, I goofed” face and turned, sheepishly trudging toward Ye Zhinian.
Ye Zhinian had already recognized him, of course—this pink-haired boy was Chen Junlin.
Chen Junlin walked right up to Ye Zhinian, his earlier embarrassment vanishing as he greeted him with effusive warmth. “Hi, I’m Chen Junlin—just call me Junlin.”
Ye Zhinian smiled gently. “Hello, I’m Ye Zhinian.”
“I know you—you trended!” Chen Junlin winked playfully.
“Hot Search?” Ye Zhinian looked utterly baffled.
“Yep! They’re calling you the Utopia Beauty!”
“…”.
Chen Junlin leaned in with instant familiarity, lowering his voice. “The newest Hot Search is: Ye Zhinian and Liu Chen.”
That tone, that manner—as if the Hot Search were something too shameful to be seen.
