On the sixth day of the Lunar New Year, the airport was packed with people, most of them hurrying back to work. The entrance was even more jammed, with barely any space to move.
A family arrived by car at the airport. Shi Qin got out from the driver’s seat to help with the luggage, while Chu Duxiu and Chu Shuangyou pushed their suitcases, ready to leave Wencheng.
“Dad, you don’t need to get out and carry things—we’ve got it,” Chu Shuangyou said from beside the boot, trying to stop him, but their father had already grabbed a suitcase before she could.
Shi Qin pushed the suitcase toward them with a smile. “This is my only chance. Once you two go back, who knows when the next time will be.”
Chu Lan sat in the front passenger seat. She lowered the window and quietly watched the three of them from inside the car.
Car horns sounded from time to time. Chu Duxiu stood on the steps holding the suitcase handle, waiting for her sister. She didn’t have much luggage and didn’t need help. As she watched her father move about, she snuck glances at her mother in the front seat.
A few days earlier, she and her mother had had a huge argument at home and made a pact—she needed to win first place in the competition.
That day, Chu Duxiu had simply replied, “Fine.” Since then, they’d tacitly avoided bringing it up again, as if a truce had been signed for the New Year, unwilling to disturb the festive peace of a family reunion—until the parting day arrived on the sixth.
After unloading the luggage, Shi Qin returned to the driver’s seat, ready to head home. Chu Shuangyou, with a bag slung over her shoulder, pushed her suitcase up the steps to join her sister, who had been waiting.
Shi Qin waved goodbye. “Take care on the road! Let us know in the group chat when you land!”
Chu Shuangyou replied, “Got it. You two head back now.”
Chu Lan stared at the two sisters for a long time without saying a word.
Chu Duxiu lowered her gaze and took the initiative. “Mom, we’re going into the airport now.”
“Go on, fly—just fly away,” Chu Lan said. “You’re all sick of us, aren’t you? Just want to go out into the world on your own.”
Chu Duxiu couldn’t see her mother’s expression—she had already turned her head quickly, finishing her farewell in a swift and decisive tone.
The sisters waved goodbye from outside the car, then walked off together toward the airport, occasionally glancing back at their parents.
Inside the car, Shi Qin noticed the change in the person next to him. He hurriedly pulled out two tissues and handed them over with quick reflexes.
Inside the airport, Chu Shuangyou’s flight was earlier. After going through security with Chu Duxiu, she rushed to queue up for boarding.
After saying goodbye to her sister, Chu Duxiu wandered around the airport on her own, eventually sitting in the departure hall, watching the planes through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Out on the runway, planes taxied and took off one after another, like seagulls soaring from the surface of the sea. Accompanied by a resonating roar, they quickly pierced the clouds and disappeared into the sky.
Chu Duxiu’s mind was a bit of a mess. One moment, she recalled what Cheng Junhua had said:
“Can stand-up comedy really be compared? Can a five-minute performance truly define what’s funny?”
The next moment, she thought of what Xie Shenci had said:
“The truth is, most people don’t even know what stand-up is, let alone understand it. We need outsiders to notice it first—only then can we deal with what comes next.”
The world isn’t black and white—it’s full of color. Right and wrong aren’t always up for debate.
You have to survive first, before you have the strength to struggle.
A massive plane stood on the tarmac, its sleek and sharp lines gleaming under the sunlight. Moments later, it raced down the runway and suddenly lifted its nose, soaring into the blue sky like a great bird breaking through the clouds.
She didn’t know if she could fly to first place—but she had to take off first, or there’d be nothing more to say.
In Haicheng, fifty contestants gathered once again, though the hotel location had changed.
This time, the production team booked a hotel not next to the Wenxiao Theatre, but rather near a suburban film and television base. Inside the base was a spacious studio, where the show’s stage crew had been working tirelessly for some time, and the set for The Stand-Up King Season 2 had already been built.
Shang Xiaomei and the other staff didn’t take time off for the Spring Festival. They repeatedly checked the recording procedures and even had their New Year’s Eve dinner at a restaurant next to the studio.
The Stand-Up King was Shangle Culture’s flagship show. No one could afford for it to flop—or more precisely, if Season 2 performed poorly, it might signal a long winter ahead for the entire company.
Inside the hotel, Chu Duxiu pulled her suitcase through the door and immediately felt the production team’s state of full alert.
The lobby still kept its festive Spring Festival decorations. In one corner, a chalkboard displayed Shangle’s sunflower logo, surrounded by flashy, colorful words of encouragement like “You’ve got this!”—as if staff had spent many late nights fighting through work here.
Around her, people wearing staff badges hurried back and forth, making phone calls and rushing toward the studio.
Chu Duxiu was swept up in this “all-in” atmosphere. Even her worries faded away, and she suddenly felt like it wasn’t such a big deal after all.
Everything could be overcome—anything could be endured.
In her room, Wang Nali had also arrived and was unpacking her suitcase, stuffing clothes into the wardrobe.
“Did you get used to the sausages?” Wang Nali asked with great interest. “I realized later I might have left you too many. Your family might not be used to the taste, and then you’d have trouble finishing them.”
“They were great—we’re a family of four. We had them during the New Year’s Eve dinner, and everyone said they were really good,” Chu Duxiu replied curiously. “They seemed to have different flavors, right?”
“Yeah! They’re all local specialities from my hometown,” Wang Nali said proudly. “If you liked them, once I get eliminated and head home, I can send you more.”
“…That won’t be necessary. We’ve still got quite a few left at home. You should focus on the competition,” Chu Duxiu said.
“But I heard the breakout round will only keep twenty-five people—that’s a 50% elimination rate. I ranked thirty-fourth last time, so I might not make it to the next taping,” Wang Nali sighed deeply, then suddenly brightened. “But hey, the hotel room assignments won’t change. So even if I get eliminated, I can still crash in your room and listen to you all talk about open mics.”
Once official recording started, the contestants would be going back and forth between the studio and the Wenxiao Theatre. They’d be briefed on the competition format and record at the studio, and later, during the themed rounds, they’d take their new sets to the theatre to rehearse and prepare through open mics.
Of course, the themes changed every round. Some people reused older material rather than writing new sets during the taping period. That was based on the experience of people like Lu Fan. Bei He, for example, was so afraid of running out of material that he outright gave up during the preliminaries.
After finishing unpacking, the two continued chatting about the show’s teaser episode.
“By the way, did you see the teaser is out?” Wang Nali pulled out her phone excitedly. “The videos of the top three from the preliminaries have been uploaded too. The comments under your open mic clip are really positive!”
“It’s already been uploaded?” Chu Duxiu quickly leaned over. She had been busy at home over the New Year, trying to fight for her shot, and hadn’t had time to watch the teaser.
“It’s been up for days. Bei He even made a special post on Weibo to share the teaser video, and he captioned it: ‘Shutting down, do not disturb.’”
Bei He’s half-hearted performance in the preliminaries had been openly mocked by his Weibo followers—they practically stabbed him in the heart daily in the comments section.
Cheng Junhua also shared the teaser on Weibo, but his comments section had a very different tone—dignified and respectful. Most replies expressed shock and admiration, written by long-time stand-up comedy enthusiasts who understood his stature in the industry and were practically screaming with excitement.
Chu Duxiu and Wang Nali huddled together, watching the teaser episode of the show. The video mainly featured a recap of Season One, an overview of Season Two, highlights from the preliminary auditions, and an introduction to the title sponsor.
Staring at the phone, Chu Duxiu said in shock, “They even edited in our casual chatting during the preliminaries? How did they even pick up the audio?”
On screen, Chu Duxiu, Wang Nali, and Scallion were shown sitting side by side—the classic “Scallion, Ginger, and Garlic” trio—discussing their thoughts about the competition.
Wang Nali was just as annoyed. “And the lighting made us look terrible! They lit the stage people properly, but we’re all in the shadows.”
In contrast to their speechlessness, the comment section was full of amusement. Viewers were joking, saying things like, “Is this a crosstalk trio crashing a stand-up show?” or “Please include the hair-pulling drama from the prelims—I’d love to see it,” and “I get it now—this is the ‘atmosphere group’ of the talent show. Stand-up comedy has finally made it; we’ve got variety show plotlines too.”
After the teaser episode finished playing, three open mic videos followed—featuring performances by Cheng Junhua, Chu Duxiu, and Bei He, in that order.
Although Chu Duxiu didn’t place first, her video ended up with the highest number of views and comments. The screen was flooded with bullet comments.
[Never seen this newcomer before, but she’s incredibly compelling.]
[Her performance was better than the first-place act. I’m afraid to say that out loud next door in case I get flamed.]
[Insane view count. I get it now—if this were a talent show, she’d rise to the top through fancams. Fancam queen!]
[Where is this performer from? Why didn’t she come for Season One?]
[Rookie queen of Yancheng’s local scene—hasn’t even been doing stand-up for a year.]
[Rise of Great Chu, Queen of Yancheng!]
As a newcomer, Chu Duxiu received overwhelmingly positive feedback for her prelims performance—like a bolt of lightning, dazzling everyone with her sheer presence.
Wang Nali eagerly read out the bullet comments, while Chu Duxiu grew increasingly embarrassed. She quickly urged her friend to close the comment section and switched to checking Weibo for updates about the show.
The official The Stand-Up King Weibo account had been posting teaser posters for several days, and to her surprise, they’d even used Chu Duxiu’s preliminary round concept—creating a “Stand-Up Comedy Mount Hua Tournament,” grouping contestants by region into sects like Emei, Tianshan, and Beggar’s Gang.
Perhaps the official account had also noticed Chu Duxiu’s standout data and saw her performance as a promotional highlight, jumping on the open mic video’s popularity to ride the wave.
Staring at the martial-arts-style comedy poster, Chu Duxiu exclaimed, “They stole my idea! That was part of my open mic set!”
Wang Nali chimed in, “Exactly! Sue them—send a legal warning! Make them pay! Bleed them dry!”
The two burst into laughter right after, knowing full well they were just joking. Still, they were both genuinely excited about the teaser’s strong reception.
After watching the online videos in their room, Chu Duxiu and Wang Nali unexpectedly ran into the show’s publicity staff right there in the hotel.
The suburban hotel had been completely taken over by the production team. There were fifty contestants alone, not to mention other staff members—the production crew numbered over two hundred. Among them were employees from Shangle Culture, people from Lingguo Video, and various project-based workers.
Now, work desks had been set up even in the corners of the lobby, with people frequently sitting there discussing matters.
“Duxiu, Nali!” Shang Xiaomei called out loudly. “You two, come here!”
As Chu Duxiu and Wang Nali stepped out, someone nearby suddenly called after them. They turned around to see Director Shang, Mr. Xie, and several staff members typing intently on their laptops, seated on chairs.
The group seemed to be having a meeting, hidden away in the corner—if they hadn’t spoken up, passersby would hardly have noticed.
“What’s up?”
Chu Duxiu and Wang Nali walked over, looking puzzled.
“They’re from the publicity team. Do you two have Weibo accounts?” Shang Xiaomei introduced the others with a smile. “Our official account will keep promoting the show and might tag contestants occasionally. We can also get you verified.”
Wang Nali said, “We were just checking out the official account a moment ago.”
“Really? How does it feel?” Shang Xiaomei’s eyes lit up. “The data this time is good—better than the end of Season One.”
“Why did the official account post the ‘Stand-Up Comedy Mount Hua Tournament’?” Chu Duxiu, who was familiar with Director Shang and a bit bolder, whispered, “You only paid me for the performance, but you’re using my material commercially—shouldn’t you pay me some promotion fees too?”
Wang Nali chimed in, “Exactly, exactly!”
Chu Duxiu added, “If you don’t want to pay me for promotion, just give it to the publicity team. Consider it me greasing the wheels so they’ll always make me look good in future posts.”
The publicity team burst out laughing immediately, holding their laptops and cheering, “Exactly! You should get extra money!”
Shang Xiaomei laughed and patted her thigh. “Ah, money or no money, Duxiu, you know our friendship—let’s not talk about that…”
Chu Duxiu played the feelings card back, whining, “It’s exactly because we’re friends that you should help me fight for my rights!”
Shang Xiaomei was left speechless.
“Alright then, the show’s budget is pretty tight, so I’ll pay you back with something else,” Shang Xiaomei said after a moment of thought. She glanced around and suddenly spotted someone nearby. Pointing at Xie Shenci, she said, “This is our company mascot. Why don’t you just take him? Consider that I’ve repaid my debt and wiped out your promotion fee!”
Xie Shenci, who was busy looking over some documents, was suddenly called out: “?”
He didn’t say a word, but glanced sideways at Chu Duxiu and even blinked—surprisingly, he didn’t retaliate against Shang Xiaomei.
“…”
Chu Duxiu was deeply grateful that Xie Shenci’s position in the company was mysterious. Although he was serious and powerful in front of Cheng Junhua, among familiar people he was teased endlessly without being able to fight back—first Bei He mocked the boss, then Director Shang pranked the partner. His dignity was completely lost, and his face was ruined.
She awkwardly asked, “Is this the legendary company annual meeting grand prize—the chance to have dinner with the boss?”
