The audience erupted in applause, far more enthusiastic than before the performance, echoing again and again throughout the studio.
Even the three laughter representatives couldn’t help but clap excitedly, watching Wang Nali bounce off the stage. She ran over to the other side to meet up with Lu Fan, waiting for the last member of their group to perform.
Luo Qin gave a wry smile. “Two three-lights already, one left to go. This is the first time I’ve felt the rules are too cruel.”
“It’s like choosing between the left hand and the right—they’re all flesh and blood.” Su Xinyi said helplessly. “…I honestly don’t know what to do.”
The girls’ group was simply too dazzling: first Lu Fan’s steady performance, then Wang Nali’s dark-horse breakthrough, and now the rising star Chu Duxiu still to come. Somehow, they had become the group of death. By rights, the outcome should have been clear, but now it was shrouded in uncertainty.
Chu Duxiu had already stood up. She was pacing at the edge of the stage, waiting for her turn. Her movements looked relatively relaxed, and from time to time she mouthed lines, running quickly through her material one last time.
Scallion covered his face with his hand, holding his breath, even more nervous than the performer herself. “The pressure this round is really heavy.”
Nie Feng said, “The bar’s been set too high—there might be danger. This is harsher than the semi-themed round.”
Back in the semi-themed round, Chu Duxiu and Cheng Junhua had gone head-to-head at their peak. She had detonated the stage first, and since her opponent’s style was more subdued, she hadn’t been pushed to this kind of height beforehand.
But now, Lu Fan—text-driven—and Wang Nali—performance-driven—had both earned three lights, draining the audience’s emotions. To still manage something fresh and impactful would be extremely difficult.
Bei He voiced his worry, “No one’s going to get knocked out in an upset here, right?”
Whichever contestant was eliminated from this group, it would feel like a loss.
Cheng Junhua stayed silent, seated in the front row of the contestants’ area, waiting for the next performance.
A moment later, the introduction finally rang out on stage:
“Please welcome the last contestant of this group—Chu Duxiu!”
Her familiar entrance music played, accompanied by thunderous applause, even more overwhelming than for the previous two performers.
In the audience, many people clearly remembered Chu Duxiu. From time to time, they shouted her name, wave after wave, until the entire venue was boiling with excitement.
In front of the screen, Shang Xiaomei muttered in surprise, “Her popularity is so high right now… but that means this round will be even more—”
Xie Shenci didn’t respond, but he understood exactly what she meant. He kept his composure, eyes fixed on the stage. With audience expectations already pushed to the limit, it would be difficult for any routine to truly explode with laughter—nearly impossible to surpass the imagined standard in their minds.
On stage, Chu Duxiu clearly sensed the audience’s enthusiasm. The moment she took the microphone, she began to rein it in.
“Calm down, everyone, calm down. Don’t expect too much.”
She raised a hand to stop them, a trace of panic flashing across her face, before she confessed with some embarrassment:
“Hello everyone, I’m Chu Duxiu. To be honest, in this semifinal round, I don’t really want to give it my all—so please don’t expect too much.”
“In the semi-themed round, people said my jokes were more optimistic, while Mr. Cheng’s were more pessimistic.” She lowered her head, her voice flat. “But now, in the semifinals, I feel like I’m the pessimistic one. My desk mate and Ms. Lu are just way too optimistic.”
In the contestants’ section, Wang Nali and Lu Fan both had faint smiles, watching the performance with great interest.
“Before the match, they said they wanted to give it everything, regardless of winning or losing—to show the strength of female stand-up comedians, and crush the other groups. But I took a pessimistic view of that. Not because I doubted our ability, but because I know too well the public’s knack for taking things out of context.”
“After all, I studied journalism. I know exactly how things can be written—swap in a few synonyms, and the facts can be twisted with ease.” Chu Duxiu frowned, her tone mournful. “It will never turn out the way they imagine!”
“On the show, three female performers competing on the same stage—it sounds so inspiring.”
“But once it’s outside the show, the rumor will spread that the female performers were fighting over a mistress on stage—and suddenly it’s nothing but melodrama.”
At those words, the whole venue erupted, the audience letting out a collective “whoa,” mixed with waves of knowing laughter.
“Pfft—” Wang Nali, who had just finished her set and was sipping water to moisten her throat, was caught off guard by the line and choked, coughing with a helpless smile. “Fighting over a mistress on stage?”
“Am I wrong? Three people in the same group, one gets eliminated, and it’s women going head-to-head. Just listen to those keywords—doesn’t it sound like a mistress fight?”
Chu Duxiu spread her hands weakly. “That’s the entirety of how the outside world interprets women clashing. It can’t possibly be about their careers—it must be about heartbreak. It will never be as wonderful as my teammates imagine, where everyone thinks: ‘Wow, female stand-up comedians are really skilled.’ They’re far too optimistic about the media environment women face.”
“Of course, there’ll definitely be people trying desperately to explain: ‘No, no, it’s not some petty love affair! They’re competing for the title of King of Stand-Up!’”
She shook her head again and again, face expressionless. “But trust me—it’s useless. No one will care. They’ll just assume the King of Stand-Up is a man, and might even project themselves into that role.”
The next second, Chu Duxiu’s eyes lit up. She hunched forward, hand over her mouth, mimicking the sleazy posture of a man, drawling with mock swagger:
“Wow, three women fighting for one king! As expected of me—the King of Stand-Up!”
Her harmless appearance, contrasted with such outrageous words, created a striking dissonance that set off a wave of hysterical laughter.
The studio buzzed with noise. After the thunderclap of laughter, waves of sighs and exclamations followed, stirring the female audience into a restless uproar.
They nodded in deep resonance, clapping hard in applause, like tides answering the sea wind.
One light lit up on stage, but the uproar drowned it out.
In the contestants’ section, the others were just as stunned—especially since they had never expected the performer to be Chu Duxiu. On stage she was dazzling, yet in daily life she wasn’t that outspoken, not even as assertive as Wang Nali. Naturally, it was a surprise.
Bei He’s eyes glazed over as he exclaimed in shock, “She can take this route too?”
Off stage, Chu Duxiu was always quite easygoing, rarely showing sharp edges. She was not the type of comic who leaned into an offensive style.
“Whoa—so ruthless!” Scallion clutched his head in excitement. “The three-month deadline is up, we welcome the return of the new king—no more holding back!”
Nie Feng murmured with nostalgia, “This takes me back to the training camp days.”
“The story of Rickshaw Boy tells us that a decent, strong-willed, and dream-filled hard worker will, in the end, be crushed by a sick society—reduced to a fallen, selfish, and miserable wreck, drowning in booze, gambling, and empty pleasures. And while I may resonate with his story, I don’t want to follow his path.”
Chu Duxiu said leisurely, “I’d rather keep things simple—skip the hard work, go straight to living for fun. I don’t want to take this competition too seriously.”
Laughter rose from the audience.
“Why is it that female contestants have to go all out to prove themselves? I don’t get it.” Chu Duxiu looked puzzled. “We have to work twice as hard just to shake off the label, and still might not get any reward. But now that the show’s already at the semifinals, there are only three women left—and you’re telling me we still have to cut one more? How is that fair?”
Perhaps because Lu Fan and Wang Nali had performed so well, someone in the audience even drew out a long note to echo her: “It’s not fair—”
Suddenly Chu Duxiu stopped in her tracks. She raised one finger and said with mock seriousness:
“I’m the Rookie Queen. As an expert, my recommendation is this: let’s take a cue from admissions in other industries. Since there are so many male contestants anyway, why not give the female contestants a special pass to the next round—to raise the yin energy in the stand-up scene. What’s wrong with that?”
“Balance of yin and yang is what sustains things long-term. Some industries need masculine energy, some need feminine energy. The principle should be universal, shouldn’t it?”
“So, I refuse to go all out. My suggestion is—let the whole group advance!”
Laughter of agreement burst forth, joined by a tidal wave of applause crashing in like a giant wave.
The second light suddenly lit up—the stage was boiling over with excitement!
The audience was ablaze with enthusiasm, faces flushed red as they cheered nonstop to show their support.
In the contestants’ section, it was just as chaotic.
Even the usually reserved Cheng Junhua couldn’t help but chuckle. “As an expert?”
Scallion shook his leg in excitement. “She’s gone wild, completely wild! Not only bringing the yin energy—she’s also throwing shade!”
Bei He sighed in awe. “Just by relying on plain, simple truths, without much technique, she pushed the emotions all the way to the peak. This is the first time I’ve ever seen that.”
Chu Duxiu claimed she didn’t want to take the competition seriously, and even pared down the comedic techniques in her material—no deliberate setups, just pure and straightforward delivery. Yet her content struck with enormous impact, entirely because the audience, through her words, interpreted another layer of meaning—deeper truths drawn from real life.
Hearing the cheers, Chu Duxiu raised her arm with satisfaction.
“Listen to that—what the people want! This is the poll, this is public opinion! We can’t ignore the voice of the people!”
“Director Shang, now the pressure’s on you.” She glanced toward backstage and reassured, “Don’t worry, we’re all women here. If you promote us, no one will spread rumors about some messy male–female entanglements. It’s way cleaner than bending the rules for a male contestant.”
The front-row audience was doubled over with laughter, and even Shang Xiaomei in front of the screen couldn’t help but crack up.
Wang Nali raised her brows in agreement. “Not bad. I was planning to bow out, but if it’s an exception to the rules—well, I wouldn’t say no.”
“Directors, did you hear that?” Lu Fan looked straight into the camera and teased, “Director Shang, time to make a move—the Rookie Queen has spoken!”
Chu Duxiu explained sincerely, “I’m not asking for special treatment, nor am I slacking off on purpose. It’s just… I’ve resisted competing with women since I was a child. I really can’t do it—it makes me miserable.”
“I have an outstanding older sister. My family itself isn’t shadowed by favoritism, but because of the gap between me and my sister, outsiders went out of their way to remind me of it. They speculated maliciously about what I must feel, assuming our parents valued her and ignored me, insisting I must have some kind of shadow in my heart.”
“I still remember clearly—back when I was little, in the courtyard where we lived, there was a boy who knew both me and my sister. One day he snuck up to me, putting on this knowing look, raised his brows and said: ‘Hey, you know, I’ve always known—you’re jealous of your sister.’”
“But you have to understand—I was so young back then, I didn’t even know how to write the word jealous!”
Chu Duxiu paused for a moment, frowning in confusion, her head as if sprouting a string of question marks, which had the audience rolling with laughter.
“I said, ‘No, I’m not.’”
“Tsk, don’t pretend. I also think she’s hopeless—she always puts you down.”
“I was stunned, wanted to explain: should I say, ‘Are you jealous of your dad?’”
“He said, ‘Of course not. I don’t need to compare myself to my dad, but you and your sister are different.’”
“I just couldn’t follow his logic at all.” Chu Duxiu rubbed her head in bewilderment. “I said, ‘How do you not need to compare? History is full of comparisons—and after comparing, some even killed their dads. In China there was Liu Shao storming the palace to kill his father and seize the throne. Abroad there’s King Oedipus. Way more ruthless than my sister and me.’”
“He seemed unprepared for my rebuttal. He stammered, putting on a kindly expression, and said, ‘Are you angry?’”
Chu Duxiu shook her head. “Not angry. I just thought you were jealous of my harmonious family.”
“No way. Why would I be jealous of you?”
Chu Duxiu nodded and replied, “Right, you said it yourself—you’re not jealous of your dad.”
“…”
After a brief pause, the audience caught on and burst into wild laughter, utterly satisfying, like the release of long-suppressed tension.
Scallion laughed with glee. “Serves him right! You’re not jealous of your dad, I tell you!”
“His expression changed instantly. I could only stammer, testing the waters…” She sneaked a glance sideways and added cheekily, “Are you angry? Tsk, don’t pretend—I also think your dad’s hopeless, always putting you down.”
The third light lit up, the stage became dazzling, and even the contestants’ section buzzed with discussion.
“Three lights! Another three lights!”
“This group is terrifying!”
“It’s completely down to audience votes now.”
Chu Duxiu said, “That’s why I don’t want to compete with women. Even if we try, it won’t mean anything. The public’s understanding of female competition is too narrow. Our efforts would just be in vain—we can’t reason with them at all.”
“Even TV shows categorize it this way: when men clash, it’s called historical intrigue; when women clash, it’s called palace drama.”
She softened her expression and spoke gently, “But I can understand it—the stereotypical view outsiders have of women fighting is just so rare, it’s hard to even imagine. Men account for over 90% of violent crime; women barely make up a fraction. With so little data, imagination is limited.”
The front-row audience smiled.
“Even among female prisoners, the majority are economic offenders—former accountants and other clerical positions. That just proves some people right: when girls study hard, it’s useless; all they do is rote learning.”
“Putting effort in the wrong place is wasted effort. Being good at arithmetic alone doesn’t help—you have to master power!” Her tone grew passionate. “You have to work hard to become a boss, then hire lots of male accountants and throw them in!”
“After all, boys learn math and science faster. When they do accounting, the judgments come quickly too—speeding up society’s cycle in an instant!”
The emotions, swollen to their peak like a massive bubble enveloping the studio, were finally pricked, bursting into a fountain of laughter.
After the ear-splitting laughter, Su Xinyi smiled, unable to help herself. She stood up and applauded with solemn respect.
Amid the clamor of the crowd, Chu Duxiu’s expression remained calm, standing apart from the noisy audience.
“I think… maybe one day, women won’t have to give their all, and only then will I stop being pessimistic and be willing to compete properly.”
“Without having to prove anything through competition, just like men- they can simply say, ‘I was born to have it all, no need to work for it, no need to feel ashamed.’”
“Thank you, everyone. I’m Chu Duxiu.”
Amid the hall’s shouts, she took a deep, formal bow and walked off the stage.
