Chapter 31

After Assistant Xu made another call, Lou Wuchen arrived in short order.

The man had hauled Su Xilan away like he was dragging off a little rabbit with reddened eyes, a trembling body, and life hanging by a thread.

Tears still brimmed in Su Xilan’s eyes, as if he’d held back for ages. Several times, he’d seemed on the verge of asking Shen Li for his WeChat, but in the end, he simply hung his head and stayed silent.

As the staff gradually dispersed to tend to their own tasks, the room was left with just two people: Shen Li and Qian Xingzhi.

It was a summer evening, and the lingering glow of the sunset filtered through the half-open window, filling the air with an indescribable, stifling heat.

Shen Li stood by the window, his back to Qian Xingzhi. For a long moment, he said nothing.

His silhouette, cast in the sunset’s light, appeared exceptionally tall and slender, as if blending seamlessly into the deepening twilight.

Qian Xingzhi sat in a nearby chair, his fingers idly tapping the desk with faint “tap-tap” sounds. He stared coldly at Shen Li’s back, as if he were just scrolling through his phone, unwilling to be the first to shatter the silence.

Not until the play of light and shadow seemed to overlap with that summer from over a decade ago, the circling insects frozen in the same instant.

Finally, Shen Li stopped watching to see if the car carrying Su Xilan had driven off. He turned around and glanced faintly at Qian Xingzhi.

“Shouldn’t you be in the observation room? What are you doing here?”

“Mm,” Qian Xingzhi nodded. “I told them I had a cold and stepped out to take some medicine.”

“Did you take it?”

Qian Xingzhi let out a mocking huff. “Aren’t you supposed to ask me why I caught the cold?”

“No need,” Shen Li replied calmly, a touch of ruthlessness in his tone. “If you were staying in the Program Group’s bungalow section yesterday and suddenly headed over at that hour, the only thing you’d get was cold water. You must have showered in it for twenty minutes.”

And snapped a photo, too.

Qian Xingzhi: …

Shen Li’s analysis was spot-on, yet it carried not a shred of concern.

Qian Xingzhi only half-listened before realizing that Shen Li was likely upset about Su Xilan’s “mishap” and had pinned some of the blame on him as the investor.

Qian Xingzhi’s gaze darkened further, both for his own oversight and for Shen Li’s unyielding sense of responsibility.

“He’s an adult. He can take responsibility for his own actions. Even if he acts like a kid sometimes, I’m not his guardian.”

Shen Li’s eyes narrowed slightly. The scenario he’d imagined didn’t play out.

Qian Xingzhi showed no sign of seeking comfort or acting needy. Instead, he was ice-cold, meticulously delineating the boundaries of his relationship and responsibilities with Su Xilan.

It was just like some hapless university counselor, cruising along smoothly until suddenly called in to clean up a troublesome student’s mess.

Annoying. Indifferent. But he still had to keep up appearances.

Shen Li nodded and instinctively took a step back. In an even tone, he asked, “So you had absolutely no idea what Su Xilan was planning to do.”

“Of course not.”

“Including that speech of his yesterday?”

“…” Qian Xingzhi snorted coldly. His long fingers stopped tapping the desk, and his frown deepened. “He used my exact words. Does Captain Shen actually suspect I scripted the whole performance for him?”

Shen Li: …

By normal logic, it didn’t add up at all. Yet Su Xilan’s extreme behavior and unnatural obsession made it hard not to wonder if the guy was following some attention-grabbing script.

After meeting him face-to-face and piecing together what Su Xilan had said, Shen Li finally grasped the rough outline of the backstory.

“Weren’t you colleagues with him before?”

“Yeah. So what?”

Shen Li paid no mind to Qian Xingzhi’s cool tone and zeroed in on the logical gap in events.

“If Su Xilan really wanted to get to know me, couldn’t he have gone through you? Why pull something like this today?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth.

Shen Li looked at Qian Xingzhi and saw the deep crease between his brows. Those profound, lightless eyes held a genuine adult coldness and utter nonchalance.

“Oh? And?”

The man’s slightly hoarse voice carried a hint of displeasure. “Just because he asked means I have to spill? Should I print your WeChat on my business card next and hand it out to everyone with ulterior motives toward you?”

…

?

Shen Li paused, his own frown deepening.

Qian Xingzhi continued in that raspy, strictly professional tone.

“That said, letting him into the observation room without probing his intentions was my oversight. It won’t happen again.”

Shen Li felt the day’s endless stream of petty complications piling up, like dust sucked into his throat and lungs—itching faintly, leaving his chest tight with no outlet for relief.

“Got it. Handle it however you see fit.” Shen Li turned his gaze away indifferently.

“Mm.”

Qian Xingzhi responded absently, then asked quite normally, “Which room are you in tonight? If it’s the same as last night, are we linking up?”

Shen Li had been mulling this over since morning, but his options were slim. He couldn’t bunk with one of the girls, and among the remaining three male guests, suitable roommates were few.

“Probably,” Shen Li said.

Two seconds later, he added, “If you don’t want to link up, I can check with Lin Xu. His side seems like…”

“—I don’t mind.”

Before he could finish, Qian Xingzhi cut him off hoarsely, his tone offhand. “Of course, if you want to room with someone else, I won’t link up either.”

…?

Shen Li’s frown deepened. He had a gut feeling something was off with Qian Xingzhi. Otherwise, why did the atmosphere feel even stranger than it had last night before bed?

Qian Xingzhi had suddenly turned distant and aloof, and yet…

It left him feeling awkward and restless.

As if some sticky, invisible film hung in the air, sealing Qian Xingzhi’s mouth and glazing over his eyes. The man before him seemed trapped in a state of utter inconsistency and discomfort.

Shen Li could barely make him out anymore…

Even the features etched in his memory were starting to blur—

No helping it.

Time had long since pulled them apart.

Shen Li gazed into Qian Xingzhi’s calm, profound eyes for a brief moment before saying his farewells. “We’ll talk tonight, then. Get some rest.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left.

Qian Xingzhi stared at that tall, slender back for a long while, until Shen Li’s shadow vanished completely. Only then did his straightened posture slowly relax. He rose from the rickety chair.

The slanting sunlight bathed him, gradually dispelling the heavy mood. Even the corners of his lips curved up ever so slightly.

“…Boss? You good now?”

The question meant: Are you out of character?

Qian Xingzhi’s face hardened again. With a cold expression, he pressed on with work. “Has the Program Group’s official account posted the announcement? What’s the audience saying?”

“Oh, most of them are asking what the personal reason was. Should we help craft an excuse?”

“No need,” Qian Xingzhi instructed flatly. “Let Su Xilan make one up himself.”

“Got it,” the assistant replied. “Director Li’s asking—who’s voicing the Butler System tonight now that Su Xilan’s out? Staff? Honestly, if there weren’t behind-the-scenes footage later, having staff handle butler duties for half the night would work fine…”

“I’ll do it.”

“Right away, boss. What about last night’s call recording? They’ve edited it. Send it out now?”

“No need.”

“Oh, and the extra pay…?”

“Pay up. We already had to chase him out,” Qian Xingzhi said with a wave of his hand. He transferred the money to his assistant on the spot. “Give them a red packet. Send the recording to me first—I want to listen.”

=

Netizen Comments

【So tantalizing! Look at the guy taking Broccoli from Shen Li’s arms—isn’t that totally Qian Xingzhi?】

【Holy crap! Check this footage! Last night Shen Li vanished into the strawberry patch, probably sneaking off with Qian Xingzhi for 40 minutes.】

【Kinda looks like him, but don’t go overboard shipping. Real life’s not an idol drama.】

【Truth needs no explanation [smiling] Just wait and see if Qian Xingzhi turns out to be Shen Li’s ex [smiling]】

【I’m convinced this whole show’s a setup [lol] Did Qian Xingzhi orchestrate it to win back his wife? [lol]】

【Damn, they really do look good together.】

【Gonna vote for Qian Xingzhi too.】

【But Qian Xingzhi’s girlfriend stans and the Qian-Su Xilan shippers are going absolutely feral right now [praying hands]】

【What happened?】

【They just stormed the “Xing Li Zhi Jian” super topic together! Massive drama.】

【A-lister like him suddenly linked to an ex-sister-in-law? Fans got it rough.】

【Rough how? Qian never pandered to fans, and he never hyped anything with Su Xilan. Some people are just chasing dreams—what’s pitiful about that?】

【Little Li sweetie, stay away from the drama qwq Let’s solo stan you qwq】

【Anyone else wondering why Su Xilan randomly bolted into the freezer? Totally unhinged…】

【Super weird. The guy’s remarrying, and he’s out here singing and dancing? [lol]】

【And he didn’t even get paid. If it was for show, fine—but now he’s bounced. What was the point?】

【Either he’s possessed or it’s some romantic tribulation in his astrological chart. Gonna check his Eight Characters later.】

【Yay, we’re saved! Anyone up for horoscopes, tarot, Zi Wei Dou Shu?】

【Doomed, all doomed. Round up all the superstitious weirdos [clown]】

【What about tonight’s date? Will Shen Li pair with someone else?】

【Voting ends at 23:59. Ex-Husband Bro doesn’t enter till tomorrow.】

【Still good [thumbs up] Watching Shen Cat Cat go on a date right under Ex-Husband Bro’s nose [thumbs up]】

【I wanna see Shen Li bunking with someone else [thumbs up] Sounds thrilling just thinking about it.】

【That’d be perfect—title drop: “Broke Defense? Ex-Husband Bro”】

=

Shen Li finished dinner and returned to his room.

He eyed the 10,000 units of virtual currency popping up on the iPad System, his brows furrowing. It was hard to feel at ease.

Yesterday, he’d rejected five date requests, costing him 3,000.

Then 6,000 more for rent, leaving him 3,000 in the red. He’d been forced to take out a loan just to secure housing.

Sure, the rent here was all fabricated by the show and had nothing to do with real money or prices.

But Shen Li, like any working stiff, couldn’t help but feel the pinch watching those numbers flow in and out. He wanted to rail against it:

Way too expensive.

Whether renting or buying.

Today’s daytime activity had netted him 10,000, but in no time, 6,000 would be deducted again.

Leaving just 4,000…

Shen Li was balancing his accounts when he heard the rapid patter of footsteps rushing over from outside, like a whirlwind sweeping through.

He looked up to see Lin Xu standing right in front of him, grinning from ear to ear. Lin Xu had changed quite a bit since their first meeting—he seemed to have adjusted to the environment and loosened up. No more calling him Brother Shen; instead, he blurted out:

“Shen Li! Can I talk to you about something?”

Shen Li blinked. “Sure.”

“My room’s a standard double with two beds. Wanna bunk with me?”

Shen Li: …

“What do you say? Mainly, my rent feels pricier than everyone else’s—4,400 a day, and one bed’s going to waste.”

Shen Li furrowed his brow and pondered for a moment. Before he could respond, Lin Xu added:

“I checked with the others, but you’re and Yun Zhi’s deals are the next worst after mine. Yun Zhi’s a girl, though, so you’re my only option! Good thing you’re a guy!”

Shen Li broke into a sweat.

“…My ex-husband’s a guy too.”

“Oh, right, right—I get it, you’re gay. But no worries. I know you aren’t into me, and I only filled out that questionnaire to be polite. Guys aren’t really my thing either.”

Shen Li: …

“Come on, Shen Li, what do you think? Just try it for one night—we’ll both save some cash.”

Shen Li drew in a deep breath, considered it for a moment, and replied mildly, “Hold that thought. I need to think it over.”

“You got it!” Lin Xu spun around cheerfully. “I’ll go wash up and warm the bed for you then. You have to come find me, Shen Li!”

Shen Li: .

What kind of hallucinatory straight-guy nonsense was that…

After Lin Xu left, Shen Li stared at the balance on his iPad for a few extra moments. In the end, though, he narrowed his eyes and closed the screen.

The conversation with Qian Xingzhi from earlier crept unbidden back into his mind.

Shen Li had a knack for picking up on details.

He could sense that Qian Xingzhi had asked about tonight’s live stream with a trace of anticipation—and that when Shen Li mentioned sharing a room with Lin Xu, there had been a faint undercurrent of displeasure.

But what had Qian Xingzhi’s baffling attitude that afternoon been about?

A sudden bout of madness—had something set him off?

Shen Li didn’t consider himself overly sensitive. After all, he was practically a micro-expression expert. Yet even drawing on all his knowledge and experience, he found Qian Xingzhi—this master performer—tough to read.

Before the divorce, if Shen Li went on a business trip and shared a standard room with Zhao Rong for even one night, Qian Xingzhi would monitor him via live stream the entire time, harder to soothe than Mao Tuan in the throes of heat. And now? He had the nerve to say something like, “If you want to share a room with someone else, I won’t bother with the stream.”

…

Maybe he really shouldn’t stream tonight. See what happens.

Shen Li wasn’t certain of Qian Xingzhi’s reaction, but he could tell that right now, every gut feeling or analytical breakdown he made in response to Qian Xingzhi’s every gesture felt a little…

Too intense.

At the very least, it wasn’t the ex-husband’s place to meddle.

Before long, his train of thought was interrupted once more.

The Butler System’s voice chimed in abruptly. Compared to midday, it sounded like it had swapped out its voice synthesizer entirely.

No singing. No theatrics.

Just a low, cool male voice rippling through the air, laced with an indefinable magnetism.

It was clearly machine-processed, yet comfortably straightforward.

Shen Li slowed his breathing and listened for a bit. For some reason, the voice reminded him of Qian Xingzhi.

He immediately dismissed the thought as ridiculous—a total illusion.

The next moment, the system voice laid out the rules for the evening’s date:

“Dear guests:

“Tonight’s dating event features three activities:

“Groups of four (in pairs) may head to the cabin’s private cinema for a movie.

“Pairs may join an escape room challenge to solve puzzles.

“Pairs may book a nighttime couples’ photoshoot.

“Please select based on your interests—first come, first served, spots limited.

“You have 10 minutes to confirm your activity and partner via the designated channel. Otherwise, the system will auto-assign based on open slots. Note that the 2,000-yuan activity fee has already been deducted automatically; participation is mandatory.

“Thank you for your understanding and cooperation.”

With that, the cool male voice cut off.

Shen Li paid no further mind to the timbre. He simply replayed the options in his head: private cinema movies, escape room puzzles, nighttime couples’ photos…

Couples’ photos were out immediately—no way.

Escape rooms? After the teammate-induced trauma from the afternoon, he wanted no part of it.

That left the movies…

Fine, that would do.

Shen Li had zero interest in what the others picked—or didn’t.

He tapped the private cinema option and submitted.

Three days in this cabin, and if he still hadn’t figured things out, he’d have to be an idiot:

Out of the eight people including himself, nobody but Lin Xu and Ke Jiujiu seemed focused on romance. The only pair showing remote remarriage potential was those two.

Lin Xu still seemed to harbor some interest in Kris, but who knew now.

The rest? Zero chance. Any lingering ties to exes would be over money or debts.

Anyone besides exes? Not a single spark between them.

They’d probably need to wait for the audience vote to wrap up, boot out low-appeal middle-aged guys like Yang Zhiqi, and inject some prime new blood to liven up this dead pond.

For now, there was no need to play matchmaker and hand out date slots to any couples.

Pointless.

Moments later, his iPad pinged: “All 8 guests matched successfully.”

Shen Li followed the directions to the basement private cinema, along with Lin Xu, Kris, and Ke Jiujiu.

He pushed open the door.

Two massive sectional sofa chairs stretched out like enormous beds.

For atmosphere, each was surrounded by cute cat-and-dog plush toys, with a giant screen dominating the front…

Shen Li, feeling half-dead inside, let out a resigned yawn.

Lin Xu whipped his head around. His first glance went to Kris, then to Ke Jiujiu. He licked his lips hesitantly.

But the next instant, he spun back and lunged at Shen Li with a toothy grin:

“Hey, Shen Li—sit with me!”

Shen Li: .

Kris grabbed Ke Jiujiu’s wrist. “Jiujiu, I’ll take the far edge.”

The three settled in, Lin Xu and Ke Jiujiu in the central spots, an aisle between them.

Shen Li headed to the last empty seat and sat down, face impassive.

Ignoring the awkward tension in the air, he stared vacantly at the big screen. It was an artsy romance flick with four leads: he loves her, she loves her, she loves him, he loves him.

Talk about tangled.

Shen Li watched in furrowed-brow silence for a while, his head starting to throb. He was about to close his eyes for a nap when someone patted his arm.

Lin Xu leaned in with a grin. “Shen Li, candy?”

He’d probably snagged it from the cabin’s coffee table.

“No thanks.”

Lin Xu produced a bottle of cola. “Fat otaku happy water, then?”

“Nope.”

“Oh. Decided yet? You gonna split rent with me?”

Shen Li’s temples throbbed. “No.”

Lin Xu: ?

“Why not?”

Shen Li kept it brief. “I like my space.”

Lin Xu hadn’t been too bad as a stranger, but up close and personal? Noisy.

Better to pay for peace and quiet.

The rejection hit Lin Xu like a punch.

But he bounced back quick, brainstorming a list of roommate perks. He leaned into Shen Li’s ear, whispering them conspiratorially.

What struck Shen Li as odd was that every time Lin Xu scooted closer, he felt eyes on him from behind…

Turning around each time, though, revealed nothing but the glowing slit of the projector window.

Empty.

Shen Li paused, then stood to head to the bathroom.

The instant one foot crossed the private screening room’s threshold, he spotted it: a tall shadow lurking behind the projector window.

Crouched in the corner.

But far too tall.

Not a cameraman. Not a director.

…

Shen Li’s eyes narrowed. He strode over.

Nothing.

Yet in the adjacent aisle sat a door—clearly opened recently.

Shen Li’s expression turned icy. He lowered his gaze, paused to think it over, then decided against pursuing.

After relieving himself and returning to his seat, he watched the screen a little longer, but the unease lingered.

Cool light played across his face, gilding it with a faint silver sheen.

Just as the onscreen leads leaned in for a kiss…

Shen Li glanced back absently once more.

This time, a pitch-black silhouette loomed above the projection booth’s tiny window, stock-still.

A solitary head poking out.

As if to say, I’ll be watching you. Always.

Shen Li peered closer.

Just a forlorn, sketchy little dog plush.