The results for the top three preliminary rounds were announced, leaving 47 contestants advancing. The full list was suddenly released, densely packed across the screen, with the names of contestants ranked 1 to 50 prominently displayed.
Wang Nali held her breath, anxiously searching the screen. In the end, it was Chu Duxiu who spotted her name first with sharp eyes.
Chu Duxiu pointed. “On the screen to the right.”
“Ranked thirty-fourth—not bad, not bad!” Wang Nali jumped up in excitement. “At least I didn’t get knocked out in the first round.”
Scallion ranked even higher, surprisingly placing twelfth, an impressive result among the newcomers.
If it weren’t for recording variety shows or doing special tours in other provinces, comedians from different cities rarely got to know each other—some might never have even seen a set from outside their own region.
The three of them weren’t veteran performers to begin with, so they naturally lacked the regional voter bases of places like Haicheng or Nancheng. Even so, the rankings they earned far exceeded expectations.
Of course, while some rejoiced, others despaired—the bottom fifty were eliminated.
In the audience, some were beaming with joy, while others hung their heads in dejection—a true display of the many faces of human nature.
Shang Xiaomei raised her voice and said, “No matter the outcome, let’s all take a photo in front of the theatre! It’s not easy for us to all gather here, and having the chance to exchange creative ideas is a memory worth cherishing!”
“Once the photos are developed, the staff will mail them to all 100 preliminary round contestants based on the address on your registration form. If anyone wants to change their address, please remember to register it later.”
With that, the atmosphere became lively again. Contestants began to file out, lining up neatly in front of Wenxiao Theatre.
It was a rare sunny day in Haicheng during winter, driving away the bitter cold of the past few days. The sunlight was pleasantly warm on their backs.
Under the clear sky, everyone first took a proper group photo, then struck all sorts of bizarre and playful poses for a goofy shot. They hadn’t even waited for the photographer to press the shutter before bursting into laughter at each other’s exaggerated movements.
After the group photo, the eliminated contestants gathered around Cheng Junhua, Lu Fan, and others, hoping to take individual photos with them.
Chu Duxiu was about to leave with Wang Nali and the others when she was unexpectedly stopped midway by an unfamiliar girl. The girl was also a contestant and asked shyly, “Can I take a photo with you? I really like your set.”
Chu Duxiu was taken aback, then replied nervously, “Ah—of course!”
Only popular performers usually get asked for photos. She hadn’t expected to receive this kind of attention herself, and was flattered and a little overwhelmed—unsure where to put her hands, or whether to take a selfie or ask someone else to take it.
Wang Nali volunteered, “I’ll take it for you.”
Wang Nali had a good eye for photos. After snapping the picture, the girl checked it, thanked them both, and left happily.
After that first girl, a second and third soon followed—more and more came to take photos with Chu Duxiu, one after another. It was a while before it finally came to an end.
“Not bad, I’m going to keep your autograph safe—it might really go up in value,” Wang Nali said, watching the crowd disperse. She stroked her chin thoughtfully. “And for some reason, you’re really popular with female fans. Even during training camp, there was Ms. Lu Fan.”
Wang Nali half-suspected that the few female contestants in the competition had all come over to take photos with Chu Duxiu.
“So you didn’t fangirl over me during training camp?” Chu Duxiu pretended to be heartbroken. “I totally fangirled over you, and you didn’t fangirl back.”
Wang Nali was caught off guard.
She looked Chu Duxiu up and down and commented admiringly, “It’s probably exactly that kind of thing you say and do that makes you attract so many female fans.”
Wang Nali didn’t want to admit it, but when she first met Chu Duxiu, she completely lost her composure over a single word—“beauty.”
The first round of the competition came to an end. The other contestants were free to return home and would come back after the New Year to continue filming. The top three from the preliminaries had to stay an extra two days to shoot advertisements for the pilot episode of The Stand-up King.
Before leaving, Wang Nali gave Chu Duxiu a big bag of homemade sausages from her hometown, then took the high-speed train home, agreeing to meet again after the New Year for the show.
Chu Duxiu was left alone in a hotel room, and during the day, the crew dragged her off for makeup before shooting scenes with Cheng Junhua and Bei He.
In the makeup room, in front of the mirror, Chu Duxiu faced a flurry of setting brushes and felt like her face was about to be smacked into pieces. She could barely hold back a sneeze. Struggling a bit, she said weakly, “I think… that’s enough…”
Oh god, so this is how complicated full camera-ready makeup is. No wonder she wasn’t cut out for this—her butt had already gone numb from sitting too long.
But the stylist was serious about her work. She picked up an eyebrow pencil again to fix the remaining imperfections and gently reassured her, “Just a little more—you’ll thank me later. Bei He tried to wing it last season, and now when he watches it back, he says the styling looked ridiculous.”
Chu Duxiu was already fidgety and nearly ready to give up altogether. But hearing the stylist mention “later,” she suddenly held herself back.
Honestly, she had no idea what “later” would look like. But to outsiders, it all seemed like smooth sailing ahead.
After the long ordeal of hair and makeup came the mind-numbing shoot. The poor stand-up comedians were at the mercy of the ad director, going through the motions on set, sticking to the script.
During the preliminaries, Chu Duxiu hadn’t spoken at all with Cheng Junhua or Bei He. But now, thanks to this shared experience, they’d grown more familiar—chatting idly during the shoot to kill time while the crew reset the stage.
Cheng Junhua was a senior figure in the industry, but he had a laid-back personality and spoke in a gentle tone. He originally performed stand-up comedy in English, then switched to Chinese stand-up after returning to China. Occasionally, he’d get stuck searching for the right word, making his speech sound a bit slow. “How long have you been doing stand-up?”
“Performing formally… less than half a year, I think.” Chu Duxiu placed her hands in front of her, like a nervous student, and answered honestly. “But I’ve watched a lot of open mics before.”
“Oh—you actually had a place to watch open mics?” Cheng Junhua said in surprise. “I thought stand-up clubs were really scarce in China.”
Chu Duxiu explained, “There’s a bar next to our university called Typoon Transit. The bar owner loves stand-up. His name is Nie Feng—he’s actually competing in this contest too.”
Cheng Junhua said, “I think I’ve heard of him. He’s a performer from Yancheng?”
Chu Duxiu nodded. “That’s right.”
He seemed thoughtful. “You just mentioned university—so how old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Twenty-two… that’s kind of terrifying…” Cheng Junhua let out a long sigh. He rubbed his head, as if startled by the thought, and muttered blankly, “What was I doing at twenty-two?”
Chu Duxiu stayed silent. She felt that Cheng Junhua was great in every way, except he always let out a string of sighs whenever he saw her—leaving her with no idea how to respond.
“Mr. Cheng’s having an existential crisis,” Bei He said with a wry smile. “Don’t stress—once the pilot airs, I’m the one getting roasted publicly. I’ll have to find a hole to crawl into.”
Cheng Junhua shook his head. “But seriously, it’s kind of scary—she’s so young.”
Chu Duxiu looked awkward. “Well… maybe I’ll just peak early and flame out…”
Bei He sighed dramatically. “Ugh, ever since filming started, I’ve had two big regrets. One, not accepting makeup and styling in season one. Two, slacking off in the preliminaries and getting totally crushed by a rookie—honestly, I’ve been nailed to the pillar of shame in comedy history.”
With both senior performers lamenting their fate, Chu Duxiu felt even more awkward. Her social skills were nearly running on empty.
Chu Duxiu forced herself to offer some comfort. “Bei He, try to look on the bright side. As the saying goes, a blessing may come in disguise—maybe this isn’t such a bad thing…”
“Not a bad thing? Where’s the blessing in that?”
“At least… at least…” she fumbled for words, then declared solemnly, “At least you’ve got new material for your set!”
“?”
Bei He said, “Thanks—you really do know how to comfort someone.”
Fortunately, the awkward tension among the newcomers didn’t last long. After the commercial shoot wrapped up, Xie Shenci showed up on set and invited the three of them out for dinner, finally shifting everyone’s focus.
In a quiet and elegant private room, the four of them sat around a wooden round table. After wiping their hands with warm towels, they waited for dinner to be served. The restaurant specialized in creative Chinese cuisine, with a décor that blended classical charm and modern design—even the tableware and furniture had distinctive character.
In one corner of the room, bamboo leaves swayed gently. Some of the delicately plated dishes were accompanied by dry ice, sending wisps of white smoke curling upward—it looked almost like a fairyland.
Chu Duxiu sat between Cheng Junhua and Bei He, directly across from Xie Shenci, quietly focused on her meal.
With Mr. Xie now present, the topic finally shifted—Cheng Junhua stopped going on about Chu Duxiu’s age and experience, and instead began discussing industry insights with Xie Shenci.
“It really caught me off guard,” Cheng Junhua said, glancing at Chu Duxiu and seeing her busy peeling a prawn, then turning back to Xie Shenci. “I watched your first season, but honestly, it wasn’t as strong as the preliminaries this year. This year’s contestants are way ahead of last year’s.”
“The first season was just a test run. We couldn’t even find enough contestants—most of them hadn’t been doing stand-up for long, and nearly all were from Haicheng,” Xie Shenci replied unhurriedly. “Over the past year, we established a training camp and visited clubs across the country—all to scout for talented performers.”
“I didn’t expect stand-up in China to develop this far,” Cheng Junhua sighed. “Maybe it’s because I’ve stayed in Nancheng all this time and didn’t know how things were elsewhere.”
Xie Shenci said, “With a proper training system, breakthroughs in both writing and performance can happen very quickly—maybe even within a year or two. In the future, whether it’s the quality of performers or the maturity of the industry, everything will be different. If we just stick with the status quo, we risk being left behind.”
Cheng Junhua looked thoughtful.
While peeling prawn, Chu Duxiu eavesdropped on the conversation between the two men—and was surprised to find that Mr. Xie and the industry bigwig weren’t actually that familiar with each other. She had assumed Xie Shenci was some kind of stand-up comedy social cat (?), always hanging around club entrances, meowing a greeting at every comedian who passed. But strangely, he seemed a bit distant with Cheng Junhua—their conversation was polite and formal, with a touch of restraint, not even as casual as how he interacted with Scallion.
If she remembered correctly, Xie Shenci may appear aloof, but in reality his thoughts were quirky and free-spirited. Even when completely unknown comics from Typoon Transit approached him for a chat, he always responded with warmth and patience, never putting on the airs of a top executive.
Maybe when it comes to interactions between big names, it has to feel more elite—no more down-to-earth banter.
When she heard Cheng Junhua critique the first season of the show, she couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Bei He beside her, worried that as last season’s champion, he might feel the comment was a veiled dig.
Fortunately, Bei He had a great attitude. Not only was he happily shoveling food into his mouth, he even picked up the menu and started flipping through it with interest.
That made her feel like she’d found her people—she wasn’t the only one who was just quietly eating without saying much.
Chu Duxiu whispered, “It seems like we’re just fools who only know how to eat.”
“Fools don’t just eat—they talk too,” Bei He said, flipping through the menu. “Want to order more dishes?”
She shook her head. “No, thanks.”
Bei He sounded disappointed. “Really? How about dessert?”
Chu Duxiu looked at him, puzzled. “Can we even add dishes now?”
She felt something was off—someone must have ordered in advance. As soon as they stepped into the room, the dishes started arriving right away.
“Come on, you’re about to graduate and start working soon. As an old hand at the company, I’ll share some workplace tips with you.”
Bei He glanced sideways at Xie Shenci, who was chatting nearby. Lowering his voice, he said confidently, “Generally speaking, companies have a dining budget—your level determines how much you can spend. But sometimes there are exceptions. When you’re dining with someone at the executive level, you don’t have to worry about the budget.”
“Of course, I’m specifically talking about Mr. Xie and Director Shang—they don’t fuss over this and usually pay the bill themselves,” he added. “But if you’re eating with Mr. Shang, don’t try any tricks. He’s very strict about finances. If he didn’t bring an assistant, you need to be savvy—go settle the bill yourself halfway through, then get a receipt from the company for reimbursement.”
Bei He wagged his index finger seriously. “Eating with Mr. Shang is complicated—I’d suggest avoiding it. You don’t have enough on your plate already.”
Chu Duxiu was shocked. “…Is this considered ‘milking’ the company?”
“Oh, you might as well milk it if you can. If everyone orders a couple extra dishes, the company’s done for—proves that stand-up comedy isn’t profitable yet.”
“…”
Another weird bit of social knowledge acquired.
Chu Duxiu gained a new understanding of Haicheng comedians: Lu Fan was an academic type, Bei He a social type. Their knowledge bases were different, but both seemed somewhat useful.
Seeing them whispering to each other, Xie Shenci suddenly stopped his conversation with Cheng Junhua and curiously asked, “What are you two talking about?”
“Mr. Xie, we want to order some more dishes,” Bei He said with a smile. “Let’s get another plate of beef cubes, and she wants an Osmanthus pudding rabbit.”
Chu Duxiu lowered her head and covered her face, her voice barely a whisper: “…I didn’t ask for that.”
The waiter quickly placed the order—another plate of beef cubes and desserts for each of the four.
Chu Duxiu scooped some of the pudding rabbit with her spoon. The light fragrance of osmanthus syrup wafted up, and she thought Bei He had ordered well. The taste was sweet but not cloying, so she felt it wouldn’t hurt if it was her choice.
Cheng Junhua also started eating dessert. Smiling, he said, “Yeah, you two should say something too. It’s just me and Mr. Xie talking.”
Bei He, true to his savvy nature, raised his glass smoothly. “No more words needed—it’s all in the tea! I’ll drink to that!”
Chu Duxiu admired him inwardly—this was the highest level of being a social person: saying something that was effectively saying nothing at all.
After the four finished their tea, Cheng Junhua looked at Chu Duxiu and continued, “It’s time to hear the voices of the younger actors.”
Chu Duxiu was taken aback and replied dryly, “I’m just a nobody. Who would care about what I say?”
She felt out of place at today’s dinner and deeply missed Wang Nali and Scallion. Mainly, she was only here because of the preliminaries, but when it came to experience and industry credentials, she was just a small shrimp with no room to speak up.
Xie Shenci said earnestly, “We do care.”
Cheng Junhua added, “I feel like she’s saying this on stage—usually she’s in power-saving mode.”
“Yeah, come on, speak up—we all care,” Bei He joked. “Don’t just keep your jokes to yourself on stage!”
Chu Duxiu said, “It’s not that, it’s just that I don’t really know what to say…”
“Just say whatever—it doesn’t matter.”
She looked up at the other three, a sentence stuck in her throat. Finally, she mustered the courage and said, “I wish there were more female actors.”
This was Chu Duxiu’s honest feeling. She wasn’t good at communicating with male leaders and seniors, and never felt as comfortable as she did with people like Lu Fan and Shang Xiaomei. The whole meal was awkward, and she couldn’t even loosen up enough to joke around.
The others looked puzzled.
Bei He exclaimed, “What do you mean? Are you calling me out? Fine, I’ll switch with Lu Fan and call her over right now.”
Chu Duxiu rolled her eyes. “That’s not impossible.”
“?”
Bei He quickly chimed in, lightening the mood.
Cheng Junhua smiled, “We’ve been rejected. The young ones don’t have much in common with us.”
Bei He teased, “You can just think of us as girls.”
Chu Duxiu hesitated, then said, “Bei He, don’t flatter yourself too much.”
“???”
“Okay, okay, I’m finally facing a worthy opponent,” Bei He said, half annoyed, half amused, suddenly energized. “Fine, I won’t flatter myself—how about Mr. Xie? You can think of Mr. Xie as a girl!”
Chu Duxiu blinked in surprise.
She glanced at Xie Shenci and saw him staring right at her, leaving her completely baffled by the situation.
“I’m warning you—watch your words carefully. Know Mr. Xie’s position in Shanle. You can’t say he’s flattering himself too, right?” Bei He, always one to stir up trouble, teased with a mischievous grin, “Just think of him as a girl!”
“Mr. Xie, is this how the contracted actors at your company behave?” Cheng Junhua laughed heartily. “They’re always casually teasing you, huh.”
It was clear that Xie Shenci had a good temper at work—otherwise, Bei He wouldn’t dare joke about him.
Xie Shenci said nothing, staring intently at Chu Duxiu, as if waiting for her to respond.
“Mr. Xie, he…” Chu Duxiu was stunned by Bei He’s self-damaging yet enemy-hurting tactic and accidentally blurted out what she was thinking, “Has no gender.”
Bei He immediately caught her slip-up. Hands on his hips, he playfully acted tough: “Hey, what does that mean?! I have to defend the boss for you—how can you be thinking that about Mr. Xie? That’s outrageous!”
Chu Duxiu awkwardly tried to explain, “Mr. Xie is… a good friend to stand-up comedians in my mind…”
She wasn’t lying. Compared to ordinary male leaders, Mr. Xie scored high in her heart—he was a friendly presence beyond gender, like a mysterious and powerful spirit beast from cartoons. If he had human traits, he wouldn’t be so purely wonderful.
Bei He paused, then whispered his conclusion, “That sounds like ‘dogs are man’s best friend.’”
Cheng Junhua chuckled out loud.
Xie Shenci was not offended and didn’t take the joke seriously. He calmly said, “It’s not just the contracted actors—non-contracted ones are the same.”
Chu Duxiu lowered her head, feeling guilty. She hadn’t meant to tease Mr. Xie. What she said was from the heart, but it sounded a little strange.
Before long, dinner finally ended, and the four stood up to leave.
As they reached the door of the private room, Cheng Junhua and Xie Shenci paused. Cheng Junhua suddenly said, “Actually, her performance that day expressed many of my worries. Can stand-up comedy really be compared like that? We only have five minutes on stage, and yet people decide whether something is funny or not—is that really fair?”
“Especially when it’s removed from the live environment, and then subjected to editing and censorship—I worry that the public’s understanding of stand-up comedy is very different from what we intend.”
Xie Shenci stopped and calmly said, “I understand your concerns, but the reality is that the public doesn’t even know what stand-up comedy is yet, let alone understand it.”
“No one knows us yet. We have to bring out the best performers, gather resources from all over the country, and let people outside discover us. Only then can we start solving the problems ahead,” he said quietly. “We have to survive first, then we’ll have the strength to fight.”
Cheng Junhua fell silent.
At the restaurant entrance, Cheng Junhua didn’t return to the hotel booked by the production team. He planned to stay tonight at a hotel near the airport and take a flight back to Nancheng early the next morning.
The three waved goodbye to Cheng Junhua, taking turns exchanging a few words with him.
Cheng Junhua looked at Chu Duxiu with a smile and said, “Next time, I’ll write a five-minute set just for you.”
“Okay.”
Chu Duxiu felt a stirring inside, hard to describe. His tone was gentle, but his words sounded like a challenge. Surprisingly, she didn’t reject it—instead, she felt a faint eagerness to try.
Perhaps being regarded as a worthy opponent by the seasoned comedian Cheng Junhua was, in itself, an honor for a stand-up comedian.
After Cheng Junhua left, Bei He took out his phone and stepped aside to answer a call. “Mr. Xie, the driver is calling me. I’m going to find him now.”
Xie Shenci nodded.
“Ah, yes, yes—we’re right at the restaurant entrance. Are you at a different door?”
Bei He spoke as he darted off to the side, leaving only Xie Shenci and Chu Duxiu standing there waiting.
There was warm air blowing at the restaurant entrance, so it wasn’t too cold at night.
Chu Duxiu admired the restaurant’s décor, observing the patterns of the plants and flowers, unaware that someone was about to settle a score with her.
Xie Shenci noticed her looking around and occasionally taking photos with her phone, then suddenly said, “Why did you defend him just now?”
“Huh?” Chu Duxiu was confused, not knowing what he was referring to.
“He was teasing me, but instead of defending me, you defended him?” Xie Shenci raised his eyebrows in protest. “Even though he ordered the food, I paid for the dessert.”
Chu Duxiu was speechless.
Unexpectedly, Mr. Xie cared about things like this!
Was today some kind of test for workplace rookies!?
“B-but I can’t not fit in either…” Chu Duxiu said hesitantly. “It’s unavoidable. Mr. Xie, please bear with it.”
He was dissatisfied. “Why do you say I’m not fitting in?”
“Well, workers’ friendships mostly come from complaining about the boss,” she whispered. “Just think of it as sacrificing yourself for the greater good, strengthening company unity all by yourself.”
“???”
