The applause in the venue was thunderous and invigorating.
The entire audience was energized, clearly much more lively than before the performance. Their eyes sparkled as they focused on the stage, their bodies relaxed, gradually settling into the moment, their attention fully captured by the show.
Nie Feng watched Lu Fan exit the stage and remarked, “She’s been pretty consistent, from the knockout rounds till now.”
Bei He added, “Aside from the Rookie Queen, she’s probably the steadiest. She might not always kill it, but the quality is always solid.”
Since the debut of The Stand-Up King, the top twelve contestants had each performed multiple sets, each with their own distinct preparation styles.
Bei He, Cheng Junhua, and others were sprinters—their performances heavily relied on their form. At their best, they were explosive, but at their worst, they seemed to just muddle through, their performances fluctuating unpredictably. This tested the audience’s emotions; sometimes they arrived excited, only to witness a lackluster show, which inevitably hurt their impressions.
Lu Fan, Chu Duxiu, and others, however, were endurance runners—their performances stayed within a stable range. Even when tackling topics outside their comfort zone, they never faltered to the point of being unwatchable. It was like a long-distance race, where stamina mattered most. Now that the competition had reached the semifinals, the live audience was already familiar with the contestants, and the goodwill they’d built up in earlier rounds played a crucial role.
On stage, the laughter representatives were exchanging banter. Off stage, Wang Nali stood up and stretched.
Wang Nali extended her arms, then squatted down to stretch her legs. She took a deep breath, tense with anticipation, muttering, “It’s my turn, it’s almost my turn.”
Right at that moment, the announcer’s voice rang out: “Let’s welcome our next contestant—Wang Nali!”
Chu Duxiu cheered, “Go get ’em! You got this!”
Wang Nali nodded and hurried onto the stage, making a beeline for the standing microphone.
Her long hair was braided into a plait, swinging like a tail as she dashed to the center of the stage, nimble as a wild creature.
The audience erupted in waves of applause, though not as thunderous as when Lu Fan had taken the stage—this time, the cheers were a little quieter.
Scallion said worriedly, “This is brutal…”
The contestants could encourage each other—friendship offstage outweighed everything else. But the audience was far harsher; they wouldn’t give extra applause just for effort.
The stage was the most unforgiving place of all. Stand-up comedians weren’t celebrities—if their act was funny, they’d earn roaring laughter; if it wasn’t, the feedback was immediate. In the next second, the audience’s expressions could shift, testing even the strongest nerves.
Chu Duxiu didn’t respond. Instead, she clapped even harder, her eyes fixed on Wang Nali’s performance.
On stage, Wang Nali finished her warm-up and settled into a natural, relaxed rhythm. She began, “Hello everyone, I’m Wang Nali. Even though we’re at the semifinals now, I know a lot of you still have no idea who I am.”
“Let me introduce myself—I ranked 25th in the knockout rounds, 16th in the themed rounds, and 12th in the semi-themed rounds. Every time, I barely scraped through, the undisputed underdog of this competition.”
As she spoke, Wang Nali paced back and forth across the stage, her movements fluid. “Before coming on the show, I told my mom I wanted to be a stand-up comedian in Haicheng. Some folks back in my hometown didn’t get it—they thought I was going into acting, that some coal tycoon was backing me.”
“They even went to ask my mom…”
Wang Nali suddenly stopped, shrugged her shoulders, and swayed her arms as if draped in an oversized jacket, striking the pose of a middle-aged man gossiping at the village entrance.
Miming pulling out a pack of cigarettes, she “lit” one with exaggerated flair, took two deep drags, and launched into her performance. In a gruff voice, she delivered:
“Hey, heard Wang Nali’s gone to Haicheng?”
“Ah.” (Affirmative tone.)
“You know what she’s actually doing there? Your daughter ain’t getting scammed, is she?”
“Ah?” (Confused tone.)
“Acting ain’t that easy—you gotta have ancestors smiling down on you for that.”
“Ah.” (Resigned understanding tone.)
“Lotta girls get dollar signs in their eyes, think they’re gonna be stars, end up tricked into filming shady videos…”
“AH?!” (Shocked tone!)
Wang Nali seamlessly switched between roles, playing both the nosy villager and her exasperated mother with hilarious precision. The audience erupted in waves of laughter at her spot-on impersonations.
“She excels at this performance-heavy, text-light style,” Nie Feng remarked. “The content isn’t particularly wordy – she brings it all to life through acting.”
Scallion blinked in surprise. “But today’s delivery feels different from her usual performances – much more relaxed, not trying too hard.”
Wang Nali’s past routines always seemed fabricated, but today’s material felt closer to her authentic self, devoid of that strained desperation to make people laugh.
Chu Duxiu’s eyes sparkled as she watched with rapt attention, frequently clapping to cheer on her friend.
“Folks back home love to gossip so much that my mom actually called to check on me.” Wang Nali mimed holding an old-fashioned rotary phone—one hand as the receiver, the other dialing the spinning wheel, even making the pre-connection “brrrr—” sound.
“Hey, it’s nothing serious, just wanted to ask—your show isn’t pushing any boundaries, is it?”
Clutching the imaginary receiver, Wang Nali let out a long sigh and scratched her head in frustration. “Well… others don’t, but I kinda…”
The audience immediately caught her implication and burst into laughter, mentally filling in the unsaid punchline.
Wang Nali knitted her brows: “Before I could even finish, my mom—like certain netizens—suddenly flew into a rage, hysterically shouting, ‘Why does it have to be YOU!?'”
“I was embarrassed too and said, ‘But that’s just how the show works—someone’s always gotta barely scrape by to advance, right?'”
“‘But it shouldn’t be YOU! What, is this how stand-up comedy works now? Even you could be the eye candy with your looks!?'”
The laughter representatives were doubled over in hysterics. A spotlight suddenly flashed on stage, electrifying the atmosphere.
Fellow contestants also erupted in applause and cheers.
Wang Nali sighed helplessly, “Honestly, I don’t know how I made it either, surviving by the skin of my teeth every time. Definitely not by looks—at best, by sheer shamelessness. Lots of people say I rode on friendships, tagging along in the trio and getting carried all the way.”
“It’s kinda like gaming. When I play PUBG with friends, Chu Duxiu and Scallion are up front going pew-pew taking shots, while I’m in the back hoarding useless junk. Then when the zone shrinks, I’m chugging energy drinks like crazy.”
“Even then, I still can’t catch up.” Wang Nali turned sideways and started high-knees in place, wobbling unsteadily as she mimicked running, panting heavily. “I’m like, ‘No way, I’m really gonna die—can’t make it to the zone in time.’”
“Crawl—just crawl into the zone first! We’ll revive you once you’re in!”
“Agh…”
Wang Nali let out a weird groan and staggered into a squat on stage. Clutching the mic with one hand and using the other to drag herself forward like a player with zero HP, she painfully inched toward the “zone” while narrating, “So this is how I crawled my way in.”
Then she flopped onto the floor. “And this was me after making it inside.”
“Then Duxiu came to revive me.”
The next second, Wang Nali sprang up like a battle-hardened pro. With razor-sharp alertness, she crouch-ran forward while scanning for enemies, then dropped into a perfect tactical squat to mimic reviving a teammate—every movement flawlessly recreating a PUBG rescue scene.
Bei He burst into laughter. “Is that really how Duxiu acts?”
Chu Duxiu looked baffled. “…I’m not even half that nimble in real life. When we race to open the door in our dorm, I can never beat her.”
Scallion was clutching his stomach with laughter. “This is Nali’s version of you! PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds meets Peacekeeper Elite!”
Kneeling on stage, Wang Nali continued her dramatic first-aid performance with dead seriousness. Suddenly she looked up and tilted her head. “Then Duxiu would turn to Scallion and say, ‘Why are you just standing there? Help me revive her!’”
In the next instant, she sprang upright and threw her hands out. “To which Scallion would reply, ‘I’m the Yasuo–Riven of stand-up comedy! If I stop moving to revive, I’ll miss my 0/21 powerspike.’’”
The audience roared with laughter as a second spotlight blazed to life!
Chu Duxiu’s eyes crinkled into crescent moons as she doubled over, covering her mouth with laughter.
Scallion, who had just been teasing Chu Duxiu moments ago, now found himself inexplicably dragged into the bit. Bewildered yet amused, he couldn’t help but mimic Wang Nali’s earlier performance. “Huh? What? Eh? HA!”
On the screen backstage, Shang Xiaomei watched the performance intently, remarking with surprise, “Though it’s an inside joke, those last two segments were her best delivery in recent memory.”
Perhaps freed from the pressure of competition and simply speaking her truth, Wang Nali’s performance became bolder and more uninhibited. All her previously pent-up emotions poured out in a cathartic release—no longer tense or constrained.
Even without polished material, her vivid physical comedy alone radiated an infectious humor that was unmistakably her own.
“These pointless inside jokes are perfect for someone as shameless as me,” Wang Nali shrugged nonchalantly and continued, “Everyone says I’m piggybacking off the Rookie Queen, always sitting next to her to snag more screen time and advance.”
“At first, it really bothered me. I even thought about avoiding her to dispel rumors, like sitting separately. But then I realized that’d be too obvious—after filming, we’d still go back to the same hotel room together. Would’ve looked even more like a guilty conscience.”
“Lately though, I’ve stopped caring. Honestly, netizens are pretty kind compared to the folks back in my hometown.”
She mused, “At least they’re saying I’m relying on a woman, not a man. Being called the Rookie Queen’s sidekick is still better than being called some coal tycoon’s pet, right?”
The audience erupted in laughter like a buzzing swarm of bees, their bodies shaking with unrestrained glee, shadows dancing with joy.
“Ever since I was little, I’ve been what we Dongbei folks call a ‘hu’ girl—when we say someone’s too ‘hu,’ it means they act without thinking, kinda airheaded.” [1]
“The first time someone called me that, I didn’t even let them finish. I slammed the table and yelled, ‘How dare you call me that!’”
“The person asked me, ‘Did you think before asking that question?’”
“I said, ‘No.’”
“They went, ‘Well, there you go. Case closed.’”
Wang Nali hung her head: “That’s how hu I am—so damn airheaded I actually got convinced by their logic.”
“I used to believe everything people said. Once at the zoo, some kid told me tigers were the kings of all beasts, and if I could intimidate one, I’d rule the whole zoo.”
“So I started roaring at the tiger through the fence. Not knowing what language to use, I just copied the lion from the Tom and Jerry opening cartoon.”
Wang Nali curled her hands into claws, threw back her head, and let out a perfect imitation of the cartoon lion’s roar—spot-on to the classic intro!
Laughter rippled through the studio like a contagious wave.
Su Xinyi marveled, “That impression is spot-on!”
Wang Nali shrugged, “Back then I didn’t know better—thought they were basically the same. The cartoon one just had a fabulous mane, while the zoo tiger went bald from overwork. Seemed logical it’d understand me.”
The camera suddenly panned to catch Bei He unconsciously touching his own hair—only for him to immediately notice the lens on him.
Bei He fired back a glare so intense it could melt steel, his expression screaming every overworked employee’s silent rage.
“The tiger watched me roaring like a maniac and stayed completely unfazed—didn’t even twitch. Its eyes were full of disdain, like it was thinking, ‘What an airheaded kid. They locked me up in here? Should’ve locked her up instead.’”
“Maybe it even wondered, ‘Wait… are these cages actually protecting me? Is the outside world really this dangerous?’”
“That tiger acted more human than I did, while I was the real wild beast here. Even if Wu Song passed by with his staff raised, he’d probably hesitate before striking.” [2]
Wang Nali suddenly leapt sideways, balancing on one leg like a crane while miming holding up a staff—but never bringing it down. Her face twisted in exaggerated confusion, as if carefully sizing up the situation from multiple angles.
“He’d stare at my ‘tiger’ and mutter, ‘Shouldn’t mix up Water Margin with Journey to the West—we’ve got the True and False Monkey Kings, not some scripture-seeking tiger!’” [3]
“‘What if this tiger’s actually some Bodhisattva’s mount? They might come retrieve it any minute!’”
“Sure enough, a group showed up soon after—but they weren’t celestial beings here for the tiger.”
Wang Nali snapped to attention, suddenly playing a uniformed officer presenting a badge. ‘You’re Wu Song? You’re under arrest for harming a nationally protected species. Come with us for questioning!’”
The entire audience erupted in uproarious laughter as the third spotlight blazed to life, bathing the stage in a dazzling kaleidoscope of colors!
The contestants’ area immediately buzzed with excitement.
“Three spotlights! She got three too!”
“This group is ridiculously strong—could we really get three straight knockout performances?”
“Talk about pressure for the last act…”
Wang Nali’s unexpectedly stellar performance stunned everyone, shedding her past awkwardness to reveal remarkable growth.
With the audience’s enthusiasm being a finite resource—after two back-to-back three-spotlight acts—the final performer now faced an enormous challenge.
If the contestants wanted to ride this wave of excitement and take the energy even higher, they’d need to bring something truly unique—sharper insights, more polished performances—or risk being overshadowed by the momentum.
A few stole glances at Chu Duxiu, but she remained composed, still engrossed in the show without a trace of panic or unease.
Across the stage, Lu Fan smiled warmly, applauding with genuine relief, her joy flowing as gently as a springtime stream.
Wang Nali continued, “I really am that ‘hu’—I take everything at face value. When people say, ‘You’re so funny,’ they actually mean I’m a bit airheaded and silly.”
“But I never saw it that way. I took it as praise for my stand-up comedy talent and dove headfirst into studying it.”
“I even went to a training camp in Yancheng to learn. On the very first day, I was completely lost. The only thing I sort of understood was ‘callback’—which translates to ‘called back’ in Chinese. During break, I thought my mom was literally ‘calling me back’ home, telling me to stop daydreaming.”
She added, “That’s also where I met my new desk mate. When she first saw me, she casually said, ‘Hey, beautiful’—just being polite.”
“But again, I didn’t take it that way. I assumed she genuinely meant it and enthusiastically became friends with her.”
“Eventually, that desk mate evolved into the Rookie Queen, and I slowly realized… I might not actually have much talent,” Wang Nali admitted frankly. “But that’s okay. She took away one delusion and gave me a new one instead.”
“I pivoted from the ‘talent’ route to the ‘eye candy’ route. At least being called ‘beautiful’ by the Rookie Queen is something I can brag about for years.”
The crowd burst into laughter.
“You know, when I was younger and people called me ‘hu,’ I always took it as an insult. Now, though? I think being a little ‘hu’ is a good thing—at least it means I take charge of my own life.”
“A tiger with dreams isn’t afraid to escape the zoo, even knowing the outside world is dangerous!”
“Thank you, everyone! I’m Wang Nali!”
With that final declaration, Wang Nali bowed and concluded her set.
Translator’s Note:
[1] 虎（hu）also means tiger in Chinese.
[2] Wu Song is legendary hero from Water Margin (one of China’s Four Great Classical Novels), famous for beating a tiger to death barehanded.
[3] True and False Monkey Kings: A famous episode from Journey to the West where a fake Monkey King causes chaos.
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