Shen Li had truly fallen asleep.
He had only meant to close his eyes and rest for a moment, but the exertions of the previous night had left him utterly fatigued. He had woken early that morning too, and the little nook of the sofa beneath him was perfectly cozy. So, caught up in a wave of drowsiness, he had actually nodded off.
Waking up in a place like that, his first reaction was a pang of guilt—not to mention the slight sweat beading on his palms.
Instinctively, Shen Li scanned for the camera—
And there it was, one lens pointed straight at him. He had no idea when it had been moved into position or how long it had been filming.
With his heart sinking completely, Shen Li shot the camera a glance. Right then, a boisterous voice suddenly cried out:
“—Whoa, Shen Li, you’re finally awake?”
It was Zhen Tian.
Shen Li shot him an expressionless look. “Ah.”
Zhen Tian went on, “The first stage of the game is already over. You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”
“Then thanks for that.”
“Uh.”
Zhen Tian hadn’t expected Shen Li to offer neither explanation nor apology. He hurried to add, “No worries, no worries. Brother Yang was the one gesturing away all by himself. He must have worn himself out.”
Zhen Tian bringing up Shen Li’s nap like that only furrowed his brows even deeper. The public screen was already lighting up with barrages making a huge fuss:
【Letting others do the work while you sleep?! And so righteous about it?!】
【So low-class. Puts me in mind of the daily grind—heartbreaking.】
But when Yang Zhiqi returned with their group’s results, his face was wreathed in smiles.
Shen Li asked him, “Brother Yang, did you have fun?”
He had struck it lucky by accident.
“Hey! Loosening up my arms and legs felt amazing—hahaha!”
Yang Zhiqi burst into laughter, his eyes crinkling shut. “You know, after playing through all these game segments the past few days, today’s was the one I liked best and suited me most. It ended just when I was getting into it! If I start doing live streams later, I could definitely add something like this. Even when linking up with other streamers, we could do interactive bits like it—bound to be a hit, hahaha.”
Zhen Tian: ..
Shen Li: “Glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for the hard work.”
“Hahaha, no trouble at all,” Yang Zhiqi said, clapping his hands. “Yesterday, you stole the whole show. Today, you slept right through it. Haha, that evens things out—my heart feels a lot better now.”
Shen Li: .
Zhen Tian: ??
The barrages exploded:
【[laugh cry]】
【Still heartbroken for the worker?】
【Hear that? Yang Zhiqi says he feels “a lot better.” And you’re out here heartbroken for him.】
“So how should we split these 70-plus points? Give it some thought.” Zhen Tian recapped the second-stage rules: “Every 30 points unlocks a career clue. Stage two is individual submissions—no sharing intel. Or split evenly? One clue each.”
Shen Li washed his hands of it. “I’ll pass. You all can guess.”
The first stage of charades had wrapped up, with the three groups guessing a total of 231 occupations: Group B, led by Li Weiwei, topped the list with 91 for 111 points total; Group A, led by Yang Zhiqi, came second with 78 for 93 points; Group C, led by Ke Jiujiu, brought up the rear with 62 for 72 points.
The question now was how many “valid occupations”—ones matching the guests’ actual jobs—each group had guessed.
With Jiang Nan included, that made ten people total. It was possible some careers weren’t among the guessed words at all.
Everyone had to submit their own answers.
Once all submissions were in, they could share and reveal their occupations, salaries, and other personal details.
After Qian Xingzhi had split off from Group B, Shen Li had given him a look. Qian Xingzhi had come straight over then, resuming his seat beside Shen Li and handing him a cup of freshly brewed hot sweet milk.
Obviously.
As the one who knew all the answers, Qian Xingzhi—the event’s organizer—couldn’t participate without raising suspicions. He couldn’t jump in first to answer either, so he had abandoned the task from the start.
Shen Li, his belly now warmed by the sweet milk Qian Xingzhi had given him, went back to idly flipping through a book to pass the time. Clearly, he had no intention of submitting either.
The two of them sat there quietly, slacking off together.
Several pots of green ivy flanked the sofa, their slender tendrils stretching out almost to brush Shen Li’s cheek.
Shen Li’s fingertips absently rubbed the rim of his cup. With a sharp clink, he set it down, the base scraping faint friction marks across the teak tabletop.
It wasn’t long before the cabin’s residents began submitting their papers one by one. Once everyone had turned theirs in, they could reveal and discuss the results.
“Not turning yours in?” Qian Xingzhi asked, reaching for Shen Li’s empty cup.
Shen Li shook his head. “Nah.”
“Why not?”
“Too easy. If I nail it, people will say you fed me the answers.”
“—Give me your blank sheet then. I’ll turn in an empty one.”
“Mm.”
“Hand over the cup too. I’ll wash it.”
“Thanks.”
By now, the barrages were a whirlwind of chaos:
【Shen Li’s a riot. Did The Strongest Brain yesterday, but too good for simple questions today? Why not dodge the script angle back then?】
【Sometimes arguing online feels so pointless… No matter what you do, someone rags on it…】
【But Shen Li and Qian Xingzhi are real issues. That genius scholar persona—no one’s calling it fake?】
【If he’s that smart, probably Tsinghua-Peking grad, high-salary job, right?】
【No clue on Tsinghua-Peking, but high salary? Nah—look at his clothes, stuff, habits these days. Without hubby footing bills, he’s broke.】
【Probably here riding Qian Xingzhi’s coattails to cash in. Qian hasn’t acted in three years—money troubles sparking this stunt?】
【Aaaah I won’t let you talk about Shen Li like that!! I won’t let you talk about Shen Li like that!! I won’t let you talk about Shen Li like that!! I’m furious! [rage explode.jpg]】
【Haha, so what if I did? Your fave just doesn’t measure up.】
Once everyone had submitted, the nine of them gathered around the round table.
As usual, Shen Li and Qian Xingzhi took low-key seats off to the side, yielding the prime camera angles and lighting to those eager for the spotlight.
The system announced the results: Only Li Weiwei and Zhen Tian had gotten everything right. They alone walked away with 100,000 in personal funds from the day’s event.
“How could I mess up?” Ke Jiujiu exclaimed. “Can we reveal now? I’m dying of curiosity!”
Lin Xu drew in a sharp breath. “After all these days together, Brother Shen didn’t ace it, but Brother Zhen—who showed up that first afternoon—did? Total curveball.”
Shen Li flicked a glance toward Zhen Tian but said nothing.
Zhen Tian beat him to it, chuckling sheepishly. “Heh, it’s not that big a deal. I’ve just got good instincts. Back in school, I could guess half right on pure multiple-choice even if I knew zilch. Plus, I’d watched the show before these past few days—paid close attention.”
【Our Zhen Tian baby should rename to Super Guesser lol】
【Zhen Zhen never lets us down】
【Wasn’t Shen Li supposed to be a genius? Can’t even guess careers this easy? Guess that D-project yesterday was Qian Xingzhi’s script too.】
【Lmao, starting to smell the shills. Whole afternoon’s been weird.】
Inside the cabin, on camera.
The public screen had been showing the two winners of the day’s task.
The butler cut to a new feed, and the screen lit up with the first short VCR profile: Zhao Yunzhi’s background.
Vibrant flowers filled the room. The camera panned past a vase of delicately leaning palace-pink plum blossoms, settling on a woman’s pale hand wielding silver shears.
Chopin’s “Moonlight Sonata” poured forth. Little Zhao’s voice came soft and melodic, refined: “I’m a floral designer. I own my own flower shop now…”
Soon, the room erupted in warm applause.
Ke Jiujiu eagerly asked Zhao Yunzhi for details. Everyone chatted and complimented for a bit before the next profile played.
Shen Li stared at the screen as if he already knew what was coming, his lashes casting faint gray shadows on his lids. He glanced at Qian Xingzhi.
Qian Xingzhi leaned in close at once, murmuring so only they could hear: “Zhen Tian nailing yours? Someone must’ve fed him the answer.”
“Mm.” Shen Li wasn’t surprised. He asked Qian Xingzhi something else: “Did you use your phone after three this afternoon?”
Qian Xingzhi kept his voice low. “No, haven’t touched it since the lunch meetup. Why?”
“Nothing.” Shen Li’s eyes narrowed further, but he shook his head.
Shen Li just figured that if Zhen Tian knew his occupation answer was “private elementary school support staff,” knew the monthly salary he’d submitted, and remembered getting called out at lunch—nearly having his house of cards collapse…
He probably wouldn’t pass up the chance to capitalize.
Still, given the guy’s marketing playbook, it’d likely just be hiring some influencers to read a scripted takedown. Annoying as hell, but no big deal. So Shen Li didn’t elaborate to Qian Xingzhi.
Qian Xingzhi seemed to piece it together too. His expression turned grave in an instant.
His long fingers tightened silently on the armrest, his gaze turning icy. The next second, he started to rise, as if about to storm off again in search of someone.
But Shen Li let out a soft scoff, glancing at the camera. “Sit tight. Don’t make a fuss.”
Qian Xingzhi: ?
Shen Li: “What’s the rush? Let’s see how he plays it.”
“Our line of work has a term: ‘crisis response window of opportunity.'” Qian Xingzhi’s eyes held clear chill. Then Shen Li’s voice dropped even lower:
“Ours does too: ‘strategic dynamic monitoring period.'”
“…Meaning?”
“Until the evidence chain closes, we watch and wait.”
The two traded a few more lines like that, heads nearly touching as they whispered to keep their voices down.
Suddenly, Ke Jiujiu piped up: “Whoa, what are you two whispering about? Another secret meeting? You watching the VCRs? Listening to us at all?”
In a flash.
Both men sat up straight.
Shen Li: “We are.”
Qian Xingzhi propped his left leg, his back ramrod straight as he leaned against the sofa arm—shifting from angling toward Shen Li to a more politely upright posture. But his head still tilted Shen Li’s way, his haughty gaze flickering with faint displeasure at the interruption:
“They’re all great. Keep going.”
Ke Jiujiu: ?!
“So what did we just say? Gentlemen~”
Qian Xingzhi’s gaze drifted leisurely toward Shen Li. His attention had been entirely focused on three things: Zhen Tian, the public opinion swirling around them, and the Dabao cream that Shen Li had just smeared across his face because it smelled so good. Qian Xingzhi hadn’t heard a word.
Shen Li’s eyelashes fluttered rapidly for an instant. Fortunately, his ability to listen with both ears at once was well-honed through training.
“…You said your work ability is very strong, with daily live stream revenue reaching between 50,000 and 200,000 yuan. You have a stable fan base, active tipping during regular streams, and occasional brand collaborations… Little Lin’s words were your top donor—she once dropped 1.5 million on you in a single day.”
Once Shen Li finished reciting this, his eyes flicked faintly toward Qian Xingzhi.
Qian Xingzhi nodded, summing it up with finality. “Sounds good. I respect that and wish you well.”
【See? Shen Li knew the answers ahead of time. He wasn’t listening at all just now, but now he knows it all so clearly?】
【Don’t forget Shen Li’s high-IQ persona, lol】
Zhen Tian suddenly cut in. “Heh heh, actually, Shen Li’s job surprised me the most. It’s nothing like what I imagined.”
Shen Li shot him a light glance and prompted, “What’s the difference?”
Zhen Tian grinned widely, jumping ahead in line.
Ignoring the basic info on Yang Zhiqi flashing across the screen and the VCR footage starting to play, it jumped straight to Shen Li. “Ah, actually, I used a process of elimination, and that’s how I ruled everyone else out and landed on Brother Shen. I really never imagined Brother Shen would be an admin at a private elementary school!
“Ah, and there was that salary hint I drew, right? The one with the monthly pay? When I saw how ridiculously low the wage was, I was shocked—naively so. But later, when I matched it up, no one else’s job fit…”
His words had barely fallen when—
On the screen, Yang Zhiqi cruised by in a luxury car. The camera flashed past a lavish mansion and champagne towers.
Next came the rows of designer watches in his display case, with Yang Zhiqi’s voice in the background, not without pride, as he introduced them.
“My net worth? Never calculated it, haha, but roughly speaking, over a dozen billion, yeah, haha.”
At the same time—
Zhen Tian’s mumbled chirp was picked up by the mic, overlapping dramatically with that “dozen billion-plus” line: a whopping 1,800 yuan.
“—Shen Li, that 1,800 monthly salary… that’s really yours?”
Shen Li: ..?
The moment those words left his mouth, everyone—who had been captivated by the “dozens of little goals”—snapped their heads around in unison.
Yang Zhiqi, who had already cleared his throat and was about to launch into his speech, looked stunned. “What?”
As the lights and camera swung over in that instant, Shen Li in the booth furrowed his brow coolly. He blinked calmly, his expression utterly unflappable—no trace of panic or embarrassment.
He admitted Zhen Tian’s question with perfect openness.
“Yeah, it’s mine. What’s the problem?”
The barrage of chattering arguments exploded across the screen, only to be entirely overwritten by a sea of 【?】s. The live stream’s heat level shot to its peak.
It wasn’t until three or five seconds later that other words began popping up:
【???】
【1800???】
【Does that even meet minimum wage?!】
【Category one regions wouldn’t allow it, but two or three might?】
【Haha, studies so well, but salary’s that low [lol] Now I’m balanced [lol] I can slack off guilt-free [big win.jpg]】
【But 1800 is insane. Sales commissions or something?!】
【Didn’t zt say? School job. What commissions?】
【Told you, this guy’s hopeless at making money. Lives off his ex-husband.】
【Politely asking: what’s a logistics support staff?】
【In other words, security guard or facilities director.】
【Holy shit!! Shen Li’s really a security guard?! No wonder he acted like he owned the place watching the strawberry patch that second day [clown]】
Yang Zhiqi had planned to showcase his business empire, but the time and attention that should have been his seemed completely stolen by Shen Li’s 1,800 salary revelation.
Having overheard a bit, Yang Zhiqi sighed and said magnanimously, “Alright then, Little Shen. Come work for me—I’ll pay you 4,800. Sound good?”
Shen Li’s brows knit tighter, a hint of amusement in his glance at Yang Zhiqi. He hadn’t spoken yet—
When Qian Xingzhi cut in coldly, his arrogant eyes sweeping over with sharp disdain.
“—Hmph, and who asked for your input?”
Yang Zhiqi slapped his forehead and cupped his hands in apology. “Oh, right, right. Shen Li’s got you. Sorry, I overstepped.”
Ke Jiujiu’s voice chimed in, laced with genuine concern. “That can’t be right. Even with Brother Shen’s leg issues, it shouldn’t be that low. Hasn’t he thought about switching to something better?”
Zhen Tian piled on. “Yeah, hold up. If Brother Shen wanted to teach, shouldn’t he be a professor? Why go to a private elementary school for logistics?”
He seemed sincerely curious.
Shen Li’s eyebrow twitched. He felt his head was about to explode from all their noise. His brow furrowed sharply as he stared at Zhen Tian’s lips, which he couldn’t suppress from quirking up. A spark of anger finally ignited in his chest.
But not for himself.
It was for all the low-wage workers at the bottom.
What would they think, watching the stream? Seeing these “upper class” folks with ten-million incomes, flaunting luxury cars, where a single gift or meal could wipe out months of their pay without batting an eye?
“What’s wrong with elementary school logistics?” Shen Li sneered coldly. “Don’t those jobs need someone to do them?”
“But 1,800 a month is just too little… Not even enough for one dish from our menu…”
Clang!
Shen Li slammed his thermos down with a sharp ring. His stern gaze swept over them, carrying the weight of a grave warning.
“Yeah? That depends on the dish. If it’s the one you snuck off to scarf down alone around 10 or 11 a.m. today… yeah, you couldn’t afford it.”
Zhen Tian blinked, his brain processing for a few seconds. His face drained of color in a flash. Shen Li’s words echoed like metal striking metal—a death knell just for him! That pale, skinny face flushed beet red!
Shen Li…
How did Shen Li know he’d snorted coke?!?!
Even Kris didn’t know!!
The next second, Qian Xingzhi—who had been watching with an icy expression, arms crossed, glaring at him—finally let out a cold huff of laughter. In a low, chilling voice, he said, “Why don’t you sit down? Why provoke him?”
“Crack—”
Zhen Tian stood frozen, forgetting how to react, his face twisted strangely as he stared at Shen Li. He even wondered if he’d misheard.
Then the VCR switched with a sound effect.
On the screen behind Zhen Tian, lush green rice paddies flashed by, followed by Shen Li’s clear, crisp voice.
“Has it started?”
A lively, bubbly girl’s voice replied, “—Started, started! But Uncle Shen, look up a bit.”
“Oh, I’m Shen Li, current interim principal at XX Hope Primary School. Once it transitions to public, I should step down. Right now, my main duties are handling logistics and admin—good?”
“Uh, probably not enough? Say a bit more?”
Everyone in the room held their breath, eyes wide. Zhen Tian stared at the screen in stunned shock—
There was Shen Li, bent over his desk in a crisp white dress shirt that made his face look even paler and more solemn.
As the camera zoomed in, they saw his collar slightly open. Shen Li furrowed his brow faintly, thought for a moment, and added,
“35 years old, divorced. Graduated undergrad from People’s Public Security University. Used to work as a SWAT officer and detective…”
Boom!
A thunderous crash!
Zhen Tian watched Shen Li’s thin lips moving on screen.
But in his ears, all he heard was the deafening clang of metal against his skull!
As for whatever Shen Li said after that…
He couldn’t hear a thing.
