Shen Li returned to his room at 10:08 p.m.
The system announcement had stated that the one-on-one date segment generally wrapped up by 10:30. Those who were hitting it off could stay out a bit later, as long as they were back before then for the next phase. If not, they could head back to their cabins right after dinner.
Shen Li and Jiang Nan had instinctively wanted to cut their chat short after leaving the restroom. However, his mind was racing so fast, still puzzling over certain details, that Shen Li forced himself to linger under the camera’s gaze and exchange a few more words with Jiang Nan.
From their conversation, Shen Li’s basic assessment was this: Jiang Nan worked for an entertainment company, likely at a high executive level, with access to inner circles and key projects. And that company was rife with shady underhanded practices—the kind where sleazeballs muscled out the upright folks.
Still, two things nagged at Shen Li.
First, Jiang Nan was an insider who knew about his connection to Qian Xingzhi. So why hadn’t he fully vetted their history before casually offering to “take care of him”?
What kind of arrogant, lust-driven, holier-than-thou nerve did it take to toss out “I’ll handle you” in a situation like that?
Second, regarding Qian Xingzhi himself—
Did Qian Xingzhi even know someone like Jiang Nan had shown up?
Based on what Shen Li knew of him, Qian Xingzhi almost certainly did—and he’d have the guy’s temperament down pat.
Which meant Qian Xingzhi, with his no-tolerance-for-BS personality and cop’s instincts, would have dug into Jiang Nan if there was any whiff of serious criminal activity.
As for why Qian Xingzhi hadn’t tipped him off beforehand…
Maybe he was worried Shen Li’s acting wouldn’t hold up on camera, and wanted his genuine reaction instead.
Of course, all this was just speculation, rooted in Shen Li’s understanding of the man. He had no solid proof.
Maybe during phone time tonight, he could just ask Qian Xingzhi outright?
Nah, better check with Lin Jie first. What if he was overthinking it, and Qian Xingzhi wasn’t keeping tabs on anyone else?
With that thought, Shen Li realized it was time to hunt for his stomach meds again.
Even after all this time, the ache in his gut hadn’t eased. Frustratingly, he’d rummaged through his backpack and come up empty—though he distinctly remembered packing them.
The medical kit downstairs had vanished that afternoon—who knew who took it—and the on-call doctor had headed back to the city to fetch a prescription for Little Zhao, along with a tetanus shot.
Under the camera’s watchful eye, Shen Li sat on a rickety wooden stool, his eyes downcast. Long lashes cast faint shadows across his face, veiling a flicker of weariness.
In the end, he simply reached out and poured himself a cup of hot water.
That’s when Li Weiwei knocked and stepped in.
From Shen Li’s vantage, her features were sharp and defined, her brow carrying a hint of spirited resolve. Her long hair was neatly tied back, with a few stray strands framing her forehead, somehow enhancing her poise rather than detracting from it.
He had a good impression of her, no doubt. But running through the guest pairings—Lin Xu with Ke Jiujiu, Yang Zhiqi with Zhao Yunzhi—those two couples seemed set in stone.
That left the top-tier Jiang Nan, the Russian beauty Kris, and Li Weiwei.
The three of them hadn’t exchanged much dialogue. Emotionally, Shen Li leaned toward Li Weiwei and Kris as the ex-pair, with Jiang Nan off terrorizing the celebs in the observation room. Rationally, though, Li Weiwei seemed the more likely match for Jiang Nan’s ex.
But how could someone like Li Weiwei fall for a guy like that?
Shen Li knew his judgment stemmed purely from professional habit. Unless she volunteered something, he had no intention of prying into her background the way he had with Jiang Nan.
That would be rude.
“Shen Li?” Li Weiwei said to him. “They’ve sent out today’s daytime wages. Want to check your system account now and see how much you got?”
Shen Li paused, then nodded. “Sure, thanks. I’ll take a look in a sec.”
But Li Weiwei pressed, “Do it now. I think the system’s glitched—I can only see my own, and mine’s fourteen thousand. Doesn’t feel right.”
Shen Li arched a brow slightly, pulled up the iPad the program group had provided, and logged into the system.
Sure enough.
His account showed a glaring 【0】.
“No wages here,” Shen Li told her, his tone even.
Li Weiwei stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her frown deepening. She seemed to flick her tongue against a back molar before saying to Shen Li, “That’s the system screwing up. No clue if it’s intentional or what.”
Shen Li’s lips parted as if to reply.
But Li Weiwei had already turned on her heel. “Wait here.”
The sharp click of her high heels echoed crisply and urgently as she retreated to her room.
Shen Li blinked, about to close out the system.
Then his virtual wallet pinged with a transfer:
14,000
Shen Li’s throat bobbed faintly, a brief crack in his composed expression.
After a moment’s thought, he accepted the red envelope transfer—then sent 4,000 back to Li Weiwei.
Click-clack-click.
The heels stormed back, growing louder.
Li Weiwei arrived before her voice did: “What’s this? I don’t need it.”
Shen Li waited until she reached the doorway, then explained in his cool, clear voice, “You put in most of the time. You earned the base pay.”
Li Weiwei frowned, licked her lips as if to protest further.
Shen Li added, “Keep it. The audience picked you, not me. Besides, don’t we get new cabins tomorrow at noon? These rooms are falling apart—full of hazards. Better switch ASAP.”
At that, Li Weiwei gave a faint smile. “Alright, thanks. If you ever need anything—money or otherwise—just say the word.”
“Got it,” Shen Li said, rubbing his nose. Then, “By the way, any word on Little Zhao’s side? She skipped the daytime stuff—did she get anything?”
Li Weiwei frowned. “Zero for her. But Brother Yang said during date picks he’d split his with her. I checked just now, though—no transfer yet.”
Shen Li nodded, acknowledging it.
After Li Weiwei left, Shen Li sat a bit longer. His stomach still throbbed, but with no tasks ahead and bedtime looming, he rose and headed to the tiny one-square-meter bathroom to brush his teeth and wash up. He tidied the room too.
That way, he’d have extra shower time later to chat with Lin Jie on the phone.
Once the live cameras shut off, he could crash right away.
As Shen Li went through his routine, the broadcast blared the System Voice announcing the 【Heartfelt Gift】 phase. He paid it little mind.
The announcement came early, though, and in a hilariously over-the-top opera diva tone:
“Friends, confess your feelings to your heart’s desire~!
“200 bucks for text message rights—bargain!
“500 for video rights—no regrets!
“800 for a greeting card tucked into a 2,500-rose bouquet—sure to thrill them!
“Of course, for 8,888, unlock system credit lending. Your butler can front your wages for a one-of-a-kind custom gift…”
Shen Li splashed cold water on his face, frowning. Credit loans on a dating show? What moron dreamed this up? Only an idiot would bite.
The blaring speaker grated on him, all static and noise.
He strode over, yanked the switch cord, and silenced the room’s loudspeaker. Then got back to his business.
Just as he’d expected:
As the Heartfelt Gift window closed, not a single message or gift came his way.
Far from bothering him, it felt perfectly normal.
By contrast, Ke Jiujiu’s overly deliberate affection that afternoon, Jiang Nan’s restroom rant—they just creeped him out.
A paywall for confessions? Smart setup. At least it filtered cheap, insincere flattery…
“Wow! Brother Yang, you got flowers for Little Zhao?”
Ke Jiujiu’s high-pitched squeal shattered Shen Li’s train of thought.
He narrowed his eyes, set down what he was holding, and even stepped out a few paces toward the living room.
There stood Zhao Yunzhi, head wrapped in gauze, accepting a massive bouquet of red roses with evident awkwardness—trapped between reluctance and forced delight.
And Yang Zhiqi?
He was grandstanding, arm slung around Lin Xu’s shoulders. “See that, buddy? No woman hates flowers! Little Zhao got hurt today, so a bouquet to cheer her up? Perfect.”
Zhao Yunzhi looked uncomfortable, licked her lips, then ventured, “Can… can this be returned?”
Yang Zhiqi scoffed. “Return it? Why? It’s gorgeous!”
Zhao Yunzhi hesitated, swallowed her retort, and said no more in front of everyone.
Shen Li got the picture.
Yang Zhiqi had just over five grand total. Two thousand five on flowers for Little Zhao? That transfer promise was probably toast.
Not surprising. It fit a certain male mindset: I shelled out cash, so make it count—give me the ego boost.
Better to blow the same amount on face-saving flash than something his partner actually needed.
Shen Li glanced indifferently and retreated to his room.
Shortly after, a masked staffer approached with a package, murmuring, “Mr. Shen, someone anonymously fronted wages via 8,888 credit loan. The butler had this custom gift sent your way. Please check.”
Shen Li’s face darkened. What the hell?
This better not be Qian Xingzhi, or he’d be pissed.
He took the package, ripped open the program group’s logoed wrapping.
Inside: a plain takeout bag.
Shen Li froze.
His long fingers prodded it open, tearing the sturdy seal—
A single bottle of stomach medicine.
