The slanting rays of the setting sun sliced through gaps in the treetops. Leaves jostled the scattered light spots, brushing them lightly across Shen Li’s face.
Qian Xingzhi wasn’t entirely sure what Shen Li meant and stared fixedly at him.
Shen Li’s solemn, pale face took on a sheen like flecks of gold under the sunlight.
His expression was utterly candid, as if he saw no ambiguity whatsoever in his own words.
Qian Xingzhi’s casual demeanor faltered for a moment. He met Shen Li’s gaze and asked offhandedly, “…You mean the nighttime mission?”
Shen Li’s fine brows sharpened. He was suddenly at a loss for words.
They were both men. Some things went without saying—they should understand each other perfectly well.
Especially a guy like Qian Xingzhi, who carried condoms everywhere and was always ready for action. They’d known each other for so many years, shared more beds than formal dates, and now he was pretending not to get it?
What an act.
Shen Li let out a cold chuckle and played along with deliberate seriousness. “If that’s what you say, then sure.”
Qian Xingzhi frowned. “What is it, then?”
Shen Li gave a faint smile. “The mission, of course. What else?”
Qian Xingzhi nodded stiffly, his mocking sneer sharpening the cold edge of his deep brows. He didn’t seem to care much either way.
A moment passed in silence.
Shen Li pulled his hand free from Qian Xingzhi’s grip, a touch of helplessness in the gesture.
Fair enough.
Qian Xingzhi had said earlier that he hadn’t slept with anyone else. Shen Li was the only one in his life.
Seven years of celibacy afterward—no room for “adjusting” to anyone new. There probably wasn’t anything left to prove, and talking about sexual prowess out loud would just embarrass them both anyway.
Shen Li didn’t want to dwell on it anymore. His cool gaze flicked to Qian Xingzhi’s disheveled clothes—clearly, he’d rushed straight over from the mission site. The snug fabric clung wetly to him from mud, water, and sweat, outlining a solid build. The smooth, perfectly defined muscles were sharply visible, and some parts even looked a bit bigger than before, thanks to his training.
“You…”
Should he change clothes?
Before Shen Li could finish, Qian Xingzhi’s hard, clipped voice cut in abruptly.
“…You meant proving it in bed just now?” Qian Xingzhi asked.
Shen Li’s heart skipped as Qian Xingzhi bluntly called it out like that. He couldn’t tell if the man had only just caught on or was bringing it up on purpose now that Shen Li wasn’t pressing.
Qian Xingzhi’s cool tone was all business as he continued, “If you want to do it, we can.”
?
Shen Li slowly narrowed his eyes, baffled at how it had flipped to sound like he was the one eager. Expressionless, he turned back to look at Qian Xingzhi.
Their eyes locked, and this time, neither looked away first.
Until Shen Li murmured ambiguously, “We’ll see.”
It meant playing it by ear.
Shen Li neither confirmed nor denied it—didn’t reject or agree.
It was just like back when they first got together, when Qian Xingzhi would make a request and Shen Li would respond with that same noncommittal attitude.
Indifferent yet not dismissive, distant yet not cold, familiar yet aloof.
Of course, Shen Li had never done anything wrong. He just had a habit back then of stringing along his boyfriend’s requests for sex until he felt like giving an answer.
Now, even if Qian Xingzhi was deliberately twisting things, the tables had turned in an instant.
Those two emotionless words from Shen Li sounded light as air. No matter how you sliced it, he came off as the one chasing harder.
But Qian Xingzhi didn’t seem to mind. He looked more open-minded than before.
Compared to the past, this Qian Xingzhi faced Shen Li’s refusals and uncertainties without irritation or anger—like his heart was truly still as water. His tone remained flat: “I don’t mind either. Up to you.”
Shen Li was left speechless by that.
And so the two “cool customers” traded a few more lines.
They weren’t connecting.
After a long stretch, neither had said a complete sentence.
Shen Li was getting tired of it. He cut the back-and-forth short, shifting abruptly to business. Talking about the mission reminded him to ask why Qian Xingzhi had designed Option D that way. Just then, a voice called out from nearby—Xiao Chen looking for him.
“Hey? Xiao Zhang, have you seen Brother Shen?”
Zhang Min passed by, stuttering, “Wh-who… who did you see?”
“Brother Shen! Break time’s almost over, and he hasn’t come back.”
Shen Li overheard and had no desire to keep talking with Qian Xingzhi. He started toward the exit.
Then Zhang Min added, “I heard they took a break midway ’cause they lost that animated segment for the live deduction? Did-did they find it?”
Shen Li paused and glanced at Qian Xingzhi.
Qian Xingzhi’s deep eyes darkened again. He shook his head, saying he didn’t know.
From around the corner, Xiao Chen and Zhang Min kept chatting back and forth.
“Director Cao said forget it. Wait till time’s up and just announce the answer. It’s only two numbers anyway,” Xiao Chen said.
“Ah, oh. So they really got it right? That’s insane. Not scripted, right?”
Xiao Chen: “Scripted? Nah, Director Cao said they got it wrong.”
Zhang Min: “Oh, oh. Well, that’s fair. A thousand pairs of eyes? Way too many. It’s not like The Strongest Brain or anything.”
Xiao Chen: “Anyway, I’m off to find Brother Shen.”
Zhang Min: “Okay, I’ll help look too.”
Their conversation ended, and they split off down the two main paths.
Shen Li glanced at Qian Xingzhi, who was frowning deeply too. He eyed the swaying tree shadows in the wind with a cold stare and asked Shen Li, “What answer did you spot earlier?”
“225, 586.” Shen Li gave the two numbers, his thin lips pressing tight. “Wrong?”
“No.” Qian Xingzhi paused, then gave a cold laugh. “It’s correct.”
Shen Li’s sharp, elegant brows furrowed even tighter. “…Then what are they saying?”
“You go first. Pretend you don’t know and play it step by step.” A gloomy shadow fell over Qian Xingzhi’s stern, heroic features. “I’ll dig out who’s behind this.”
Shen Li’s gaze dropped, his mind racing. “So those two pairs of eyes really were Xiao Ting’s and Song Wenyu’s?”
“Yeah.”
Qian Xingzhi wasn’t surprised Shen Li had guessed it.
This was Shen Li’s expertise, and he was always exceptional at it.
He barely needed to explain—Shen Li would grasp the intent behind the design.
Using the show’s game segment to foreshadow the 0225 Case in a “completely fictional” way. Once it stuck in viewers’ minds, pair it with an upcoming police bulletin. Officials could decide whether to reveal or not—but revealing would hit harder than a plain announcement.
But now…
Shen Li’s index finger clenched. His beautiful eyes closed in thought. When they opened again, they gleamed with clear understanding as he said to Qian Xingzhi, “I think I know what’s going on. Something must’ve changed out there. Probably progress from Zhao Rong’s side. Cao Sheng and Li Zhiming have jumped to Ming Wolf—they’re WCC people. They don’t want the scandal exposed.”
Qian Xingzhi’s eyes darkened. He narrowed them at Shen Li’s impassive face.
His gaze was utterly loyal, landing softly on Shen Li’s pale features.
After a beat, Qian Xingzhi looked away coolly. His deep voice asked, “So what’s your plan, Officer Shen?”
“Cooperate with me in a bit.”
“How?”
Shen Li pondered a moment longer, then tugged lightly—not too hard—on the man’s collar, pulling him down to whisper a few words.
Qian Xingzhi leaned in to listen.
They wrapped up quickly and hurried back separately.
Break time was over. Cameras rolled again.
Viewers, fresh off twenty minutes of ads, were buzzing with impatience and excitement, waiting for the director to announce the results.
【Were those two answers Yao Shuang just submitted the ones Shen Li picked? I saw him talking to Yao Shuang, then she went off.】
【Too awesome!!!】
【What if they got it wrong? Praising too soon?】
【Even if wrong, it’s fine—no script means no prep. Just try again.】
【I bet Little Li Cat Cat still nails it [Go go go][Go go go][Go go go]】
【Is Shen Li secretly a Strongest Brain contender or what?】
The barrage scrolled on.
The area around the walkway dimmed as the spotlights focused on the two bright red numbers: 225 and 586.
But soon, they turned black.
Director Cao Sheng announced, “Regrettably, the answers Yao Shuang submitted twenty minutes ago are incorrect.”
The studio fell silent. Even the barrage went still for a second or two before flooding with “It’s normal to miss,” “Not an IQ show anyway.”
Yang Zhiqi, looking like he’d just woken up, let out an “Oh man” and griped, “Whoever came up with that killer idea really shot themselves in the foot. Bored much? Who could even find it?”
The rules explainer had switched to Director Cao Sheng himself. Hearing the guest complain, he said, “Option D is five-star difficulty. It’s supposed to be tough. You’re all good at observation, aren’t you…?”
“Oh yeah? Me? Him?” Yang Zhiqi jabbed at his own nose, then glanced at Yao Shuang and Shen Li. “We’re decent, sure, but we’re not the Monkey King with his fiery eyes.”
Cao Sheng: “You have fifteen minutes left. You can submit two more answers if you want—or give up.”
Yao Shuang stood from her seat. “Even with fifteen days, it’d be brutal. No other hints?”
Cao Sheng: “None.”
“Screw it, let’s bail. Who could…”
Before Yang Zhiqi finished, Shen Li’s voice cut in.
“—Hold on.” Shen Li stood, face blank as he faced the camera—like he was looking straight at Cao Sheng. He gave a faint smile. “We don’t need those fifteen minutes.”
“Alright then. Challenge continues. Good luck, everyone.” Cao Sheng paused. “Teacher Shen, you too.”
Under the lights, Shen Li sat back down. He wasn’t mad or rushed. Half his face hid in the shadows where the lighting fell short. He didn’t even flip through the iPad pages anymore.
He just left it on the original page he’d picked: 225.
【Huh? Cat Cat said he’d find it—why’s he slacking now?】
【Aaaah, he doesn’t look worried at all!!! I’m dying out here!!】
From another camera feed, Yang Zhiqi pressed on with a shameless grin, still grilling the director.
“What were you guys thinking? Such a paltry sum of money, a question this tough, and barely any time to work with—doesn’t that contradict itself?”
Cao Sheng replied, “That’s precisely what makes this game challenging.”
Yang Zhiqi shot back, “Come on, just 500 bucks? You expect us to bust our asses for that? Or maybe you should’ve been sneakier—lure us in with promises of big rewards first, then motivate us to dive in?”
Cao Sheng: “…We’ll do better next time.”
Yang Zhiqi went on, “Even Shen Li couldn’t crack this one. I thought he was some kind of wizard who’d let us coast to victory. Looks like it’s time for me to give it a shot too.”
Cao Sheng merely smiled without responding.
The moment Yang Zhiqi finished speaking, he got to his feet, hands clasped behind his back like some leisurely old man out for a stroll. He began sauntering past the photos, starting from the first one.
【Yang Zhiqi’s got the full package: morals (degenerate), brains (dimwit), physique (wrecked), looks (delusional), labor (McDonald’s)】
【Sometimes this show pisses me off so bad my chest hurts—I wish my pet sow would burst through the screen and gore this dumbass to death】
【For 250 bucks, Yang Zhiqi’s the full vaccine fail: heartless, inhumane, all flaws—bring the big knife】
Yao Shuang had been poring over the photos for ages now, and anxiety was starting to gnaw at her.
She was the fiercely competitive type. Without that drive, she never would have carved out such a solid foothold in the entertainment industry. Coming back from just one day on set with an unfinished task? For Yao Shuang, that was simply unacceptable.
Yet for any ordinary person, this task was flat-out impossible.
She had banked on Shen Li pulling it off, though.
What she hadn’t anticipated was that not only had Shen Li gotten it wrong, he showed no sign of revising his answer. Instead, he seemed to be settling in for some quiet meditation.
