Xie Shenci, upon hearing that, stared at Chu Duxiu without any change in expression. He didn’t say a word until her gaze started to flicker and she turned her head away. Only then did he speak slowly:
“You bully the weak and fear the strong.”
Chu Duxiu quickly protested, “I do not!”
“It’s not the first time,” he raised an eyebrow. “And you called me clingy—said I stick to you and won’t leave.”
“?”
That was a joke Chu Duxiu made during the preliminary round of the competition. She hadn’t expected it to be dug up now and used against her, as if it were some veiled jab at Mr. Xie.
Chu Duxiu replied in a good-natured tone, “Mr. Xie, you’re overthinking. Don’t take it personally.”
“Then who were you talking about?” Xie Shenci asked. “You didn’t even show me the joke before performing it. Made the call without my approval.”
“……”
This was… odd.
Chu Duxiu thought about how composed and even-tempered Xie Shenci had been just moments ago—serene, unaffected by praise or blame. And now here he was, fussing over the smallest thing. She couldn’t shake the feeling he was doing it on purpose, trying to tease her.
Even though his face stayed calm and unreadable, who knew what he was feeling inside. He was like a big cat—playfully tormenting its prey. Not malicious, just messing with you for fun.
A moment later, Chu Duxiu mimicked his tone:
“You bully the weak and fear the strong.”
Xie Shenci paused, caught off guard.
Chu Duxiu lifted her chin slightly.
“With Mr. Cheng, you’re all polite and courteous. But with me, it’s all questions and nitpicking about my jokes. Do I look like an easy target to you?”
She’d seen firsthand today how respectfully Xie Shenci treated Cheng Junhua—there was no way he’d dare to demand Cheng Junhua hand over a joke!
Xie Shenci didn’t react to her pushback immediately. After a few seconds of silence, he answered her question with another:
“Do you think being overly polite is a good thing?”
Chu Duxiu paused to think.
He had a point—if Mr. Xie were too courteous all the time, it’d probably be mentally exhausting.
He pressed,
“So tell me, who’s really the easy one to push around?”
Chu Duxiu was left speechless. She decided to dodge the question altogether and brushed it off with a wave:
“Mm-hmm, alright, I admit it. I acted first and asked later. Slashed first, then gave you a proper beating—just to prove your bias right.”
“???”
Not long after, Bei He came running back and met up with Chu Duxiu and Xie Shenci. The car that was picking them up had looped around and now pulled up in front of the restaurant.
Bei He said, “Car’s here. Let’s get in.”
There was only the driver inside; the rest of the seats were empty.
Seeing this, Chu Duxiu quickly made a move and reached for the front passenger door—but before she could climb in, someone stopped her.
“What do you think you’re doing? Trying to steal my chance to show I’ve got sharp instincts?” Bei He walked over, grabbed the front passenger door, and waved her off. “Newbies aren’t allowed to stir the pot. Go sit in the back.”
“But that doesn’t feel right…” Chu Duxiu hesitated. She had less seniority than Bei He and felt awkward taking a back seat to him—literally.
“What’s not right about it? You think there’s a ghost in the backseat?” Bei He glanced at Xie Shenci and teased,
“No worries—you already said it yourself, Mr. Xie doesn’t have a gender.”
“……”
This guy really knew how to add fuel to the fire.
Since it was a company-arranged car, it wasn’t exactly unreasonable for Bei He to take the front passenger seat. After all, Chu Duxiu wasn’t an employee of Shanle Culture—she was still a university student and not yet part of the working world.
But if Bei He claiming the front seat was already a bit much, Xie Shenci took it even further. He was faster than her, casually opening the left rear door, leaving her with only the right rear seat.
According to standard company car etiquette when a professional driver is at the wheel, the seating hierarchy goes: rear right, rear left, then front passenger.
But clearly, Shanle Culture wasn’t your typical company—its seating order was all over the place!
Chu Duxiu was now the only one left outside the car—she couldn’t delay any longer. Bracing herself, she got into the rear right seat, placed her hands neatly on her lap, and sat quietly beside Xie Shenci.
The car finally pulled away. Bei He, sitting up front, glanced back and chuckled. “Mr. Xie, you’ve got her so nervous she barely dares to sit.”
Xie Shenci choosing the rear left seat had clearly unsettled Chu Duxiu—she practically had “Please don’t honor me like this” written on her face.
Xie Shenci replied, “I’m afraid of getting beaten up.”
“Hm? What was that?”
His voice was too soft; Bei He didn’t catch it. He turned around again, trying to get him to repeat it.
Chu Duxiu, startled, shot a sharp glare at Xie Shenci, silently warning him not to tarnish her name.
Xie Shenci glanced at her, but didn’t say it again.
After that, the atmosphere in the car returned to something more normal. Mr. Xie clearly had an image to maintain—his “idol persona”—so he went back to being calm and mostly silent, leaving Bei He to carry the conversation.
The casual chat on the ride back wasn’t exactly deep—just small talk about hometowns.
“Have you booked your ticket yet?” Bei He asked. “Is your school on break now? Going straight home for the New Year?”
Chu Duxiu quickly nodded. “Yes, I’ve already booked it. Heading straight home.”
“Where’s your hometown?”
“Wencheng.”
“Oh, hometown in Wencheng, uni in Yancheng…” Bei He commented, “That’s quite a distance.”
“Don’t forget to pick up your New Year’s gift pack later,” Xie Shenci suddenly chimed in after listening to the back-and-forth. He then glanced toward Bei He in the front seat. “Take her to get it.”
“Alright,” Bei He replied. “Did Mr. Cheng get his? He left just now without saying anything.”
Xie Shenci paused for a second, then said, “Mr. Shang probably arranged it.”
Bei He scratched his head in confusion upon hearing Shang Liang’s name. “The two bosses have to give out gifts separately?”
He just stopped short of bluntly pointing out:
Do the bosses not have enough work to do? Couldn’t one of them just handle it?
Wencheng—surrounded by lush mountains and clear waters—is tranquil and dignified. It may not possess the graceful charm of the water towns in Jiangnan, but it bears its own distinctive historical imprint. The city once produced many successful merchants and had its heyday of economic prosperity. Steeped in ancient heritage, it feels both honest and grounded.
The winter wind there was mildly chilly—not as damp as in Haicheng, but still cutting and cold.
For as long as Chu Duxiu could remember, she had never seen heavy snow in Wencheng. It was mostly rainy, with the occasional light flurry at best.
At home, northeastern sausages and a set of New Year gift packs sat on the table—things Chu Duxiu had brought back from Haicheng. She unpacked the local specialties one by one, then pushed her suitcase back into her room and began tidying up the mess inside.
Her mother, Chu Lan, was lounging in the living room. Half leaning on the table, she casually poked at one of the plastic bags, and exclaimed in surprise, “You actually thought to buy New Year’s gifts for the family?”
She had a face that radiated good fortune. Though she’d put on a bit of weight with age, the bright red sweater she wore, along with her loud and booming voice, gave her a strong and spirited presence. You could still catch a glimpse of the bold and sassy woman she must’ve been in her youth.
Some people are just born with a commanding, tiger-like energy—one look and you know not to mess with them. Chu Lan was exactly that kind of person.
Hearing her mother’s voice, Chu Duxiu quickly came out of her room and glanced at the slippers by the shoe cabinet.
“Mom, hasn’t Shuangyou come back yet?” she asked.
According to the sisters’ plan, Chu Shuangyou was supposed to return home first, with Chu Duxiu coming back to Wencheng after her competition. They were hoping to use the Chinese New Year holiday to gradually wear down Chu Lan’s resistance and convince her to let Chu Duxiu film a show during winter break.
But things had taken a slight turn—Chu Shuangyou still hadn’t returned home.
“She had something come up last minute. Said she’d hurry back before New Year’s Eve,” Chu Lan replied with a frown. “And don’t keep clinging to your sister. She’s usually very busy—doesn’t have time for everything.”
Chu Duxiu nodded at that, feeling both relieved her sister would make it back in time for New Year and indignant that her poor sister had been dragged into overtime by those evil capitalists. If they kept her any longer, it might actually disrupt the stability and harmony of their family.
Seeing Chu Duxiu lost in thought, seemingly daydreaming, Chu Lan knocked on the table to snap her out of it and reminded her, “Hey, did you not get what I said? Don’t keep clinging to your sister—she’s got a lot on her plate.”
Chu Duxiu replied calmly, “Mm, I’m not clinging to her. She’s not even back yet, so there’s nothing to cling to!”
Chu Lan was momentarily speechless. Realizing her daughter hadn’t caught the deeper meaning behind her words, she decided to cut straight to the point. “How were your exams?”
This had been weighing on Chu Lan’s mind lately. She didn’t worry about her elder daughter—Shuangyou already had her life mapped out. But the younger one? She was still utterly clueless, wandering around wide-eyed like a little airhead. Chu Lan honestly had no idea what was going on inside that head of hers.
Chu Duxiu lowered her gaze and mumbled, “Grades aren’t out yet… but Shuangyou said just treat it as practice for now. The main one we’re waiting on is the one here in Wencheng.”
“Alright, then listen to your sister.” Chu Lan wanted to say more, but held herself back. After a pause, she muttered, “You need to be more mindful too. Stop acting like a little kid all the time.”
Chu Duxiu mumbled a vague reply.
Her feelings toward her mother were complicated. Though Chu Lan often voiced objections and compared the two sisters, Duxiu knew deep down that her mother cared—it was just that her way of expressing love and concern was different.
It was a bit like how Xie Shenci dealt with different actors—he used different approaches depending on who he was facing.
Even within the same family, the way people express and receive affection can vary. Her feelings toward her mother, father, and sister—and how she handled things with each of them—were all different. Family wasn’t some broad, generic concept. It was specific, tangible, and made up of distinct individuals.
A moment later, the front door opened and a man in a padded winter coat stepped inside. Seeing his daughter at the table sorting sausages, his face lit up with joy.
“Xiuxiu, you’re home!”
Shi Qin, her father, hadn’t seen her in months. Now that she was back, his mood lifted instantly. His hands were full of shopping bags, with bright green spring onions sticking out—everything he’d stocked up for the Spring Festival.
Chu Lan stood with her arms crossed.
“You two just missed each other. You’d only just gone out to buy groceries when she knocked on the door.”
“Well then, let’s make dumplings later. Half for eating, half to freeze,” said Shi Qin. “It’s a shame—Youyou changed her ticket last minute and is going to miss this batch.”
The three of them cleared off the table, then got to work: kneading dough, mixing filling, the house quickly warming up with cheerful busyness. Shi Qin took charge of rolling out the dumpling wrappers, while the others filled and folded them, neatly lining them up on bamboo trays.
Seeing her younger daughter seated at the table, Chu Lan asked in confusion, “What are you doing there?”
Holding a dumpling wrapper in her hand, Chu Duxiu deftly added the filling and folded it into a perfect dumpling.
“Helping, obviously,” she replied, slightly baffled.
Both her parents were busy setting things up at the table—she couldn’t just sit there watching and doing nothing.
Chu Lan pressed her lips together, looking a bit hesitant. “Why don’t you go back to your room and study instead?”
“It’s just a short break… like a few hours isn’t going to change anything,” Chu Duxiu said, pausing for a moment, then added, “If skipping dumpling-making could get me into Tsinghua or Peking University, I’d never eat another dumpling in my life.”
“…”
Chu Lan shot her daughter a sideways look—like she was deeply exasperated, yet couldn’t find a solid argument against her twisted logic.
Shi Qin tried to smooth things over. “Just rest a bit now that you’re home. At least get through the New Year first.”
“Exactly, exactly. So, what do you think about this year’s Spring Festival Gala?” Chu Duxiu changed the subject. “Are there any sketches or crosstalk performances?”
She had a little plan in mind—first testing the waters on her parents’ views about comedy, then gently easing into the topic of her show recording. It was all about taking things step by step.
Shi Qin chuckled, “You’re already thinking about the Gala, huh?”
“What’s so good about the Gala? Who serious actually watches that?” Chu Lan rolled her eyes. “It’s just background music for dinner.”
No one could really argue with that. Chu Duxiu herself thought that in recent years, the Gala’s comedy segments probably didn’t do much to improve her parents’ impression of stand-up comedy.
The three of them laughed and chatted as they folded dumplings, quickly filling up the bamboo trays, ready to start cooking the first batch.
At first, Chu Lan was a bit displeased watching Chu Duxiu busy with chores, but her expression soon softened, and she sighed with a hint of amusement. “Tsk tsk, you really are nothing like your sister.”
“How so?”
“She doesn’t do any housework at all—just clutches a book and studies all the time. But you? You barely crack open a book, yet you’re quite skilled at this kind of stuff.” Chu Lan shook her head helplessly. “You two could’ve been a bit more evenly matched when you were born.”
Chu Shuangyou was impeccable when it came to academics but utterly hated chores, claiming they were pointless and bound to be replaced by machines one day.
Chu Duxiu was the exact opposite—she actually enjoyed doing the things her sister considered meaningless, even going online to look up cooking tips to make fancy, creative dumplings.
“Why do all the good things always come to one of us?” Chu Duxiu complained. “If we’d been evenly matched, maybe we’d both study and do chores. Or maybe neither of us would do either!”
Chu Lan was speechless.
Her daydreams shattered, she glared at her daughter like she wanted to pinch her cheek.
“Just be mad at me—your mouth’s always the quickest!”
