Inside the studio, the stage and seating area had been rearranged, becoming more spacious and dazzling.
As stirring music filled the air, the giant screen lit up with a recap video of the show, revisiting moments from the preliminary rounds, breakout rounds, themed challenges, semi-themed challenges, semifinals, all the way to today’s grand finale. Highlights from Season Two of The Stand-Up King flashed by, triggering waves of cheers from the audience.
Moments later, the recap ended, giving way to clips of the contestants. The names of the Top Nine appeared one after another, followed by a series of memorable quotes on the screen, offering a quick glimpse of their standout punchlines.
From the side of the stage, the contestants began to make their appearances in order. Cheng Junhua stepped out from behind the door, his expression warm and smiling as he waved to the audience. Behind him, the screen displayed some of his signature lines.
The audience below shook their hands in excitement.
Bei He, Lu Fan, and others also made their appearances. All of them were seasoned veterans from Shanle, and their presence drew shrieks from the crowd.
Finally, Chu Duxiu, Wang Nali, and Scallion waited together backstage. One by one, they stepped onto the stage and headed toward the contestants’ seats.
The moment Chu Duxiu appeared, the audience erupted into a frenzy, like boiling oil crackling in a pan. Her introduction video was packed with text, highlighting her brilliant performances along the way, with lines such as “Give me face,” “Penguins can take a plane,” “AI single dog,” and “Whole team advances.”
Fans in the front row waved banners enthusiastically, screaming at the top of their lungs, their excitement almost palpable.
With more people in attendance for the grand finale, the atmosphere in the venue grew even more electric.
[Great Chu rises, Rookie Queen!]
[So popular—truly deserving her name.]
[Don’t want to see Chu? Then how is she even here?]
[If you don’t want to see her, just turn off the stream. This show only went viral thanks to her jokes.]
[They didn’t include the “Take Back America” line in the highlights, but they did put in “Whole Team Advances.” Someone’s gonna be furious (doge face).]
The live chat on Lingguo Video had already been moderated: personal attacks and overly aggressive comments were filtered out, leaving only friendly and harmless messages to create a positive environment for interaction.
This was Shang Liang’s idea—given the level of public attention around Chu Duxiu, it was necessary to regulate the live comments during the finals to avoid disrupting the The Stand-Up King grand finale.
In the contestants’ area, Chu Duxiu and the others were completely unaware of the live chat, instead stunned by the passionate energy of the audience in the venue.
The grand finale stage was far more magnificent—vibrant colors, dazzling lights, and thunderous cheers swept away the evening’s calm, filling the air with deafening excitement.
Scallion stared at the banners held by fans in the front row. Spotting his own name, he exclaimed in shock, “Oh my god, we actually have supporters?”
Chu Duxiu exclaimed, “That’s amazing.”
Wang Nali said, “I want a banner with my name on it too.”
Moments later, Luo Qin and Su Xinyi appeared, slowly stepping onto the stage to host the final showdown.
Dressed in an elegant evening gown, Su Xinyi held the microphone and smiled. “Welcome, everyone, to the grand finale of The Stand-Up King! Are you ready for a night full of laughter?”
The audience roared back with overwhelming energy: “We’re ready—!”
“The vibe really hits different in a bigger venue—just listen to that shout,” Luo Qin said with a startled laugh, then grinned. “Of course, aside from a larger stage and more spectators, tonight’s finale will also feature two brand-new laughter representatives, here to witness the birth of Season Two’s King of Stand-Up.”
“Let’s give it up for Lu Yi and Qi Yunhan—”
Dazzling lights swirled across the stage as two high-profile celebrities made their entrance, prompting a wave of excited “whoa” from the audience.
The first to step up, with a graceful stride, was Qi Yunhan, a popular leading man. Clad in trendy fashion, he waved at the cheering crowd.
Beside him, Lu Yi—slightly more robust in build—patted Qi Yunhan on the shoulder like an old friend, then swept his gaze across the venue before raising his hand in greeting. Once a renowned actor, Lu Yi had recently transitioned into directing, and his every move carried a touch of authority.
The audience beamed with smiles and greeted the new guests with resounding applause.
After a brief self-introduction, the two stars took their seats as the laughter representatives, ready for the finale to begin.
Lu Fan said, “They’re burning through the budget—guess the company’s rolling in cash now.”
Bei He agreed, “All of us put together probably don’t cost as much as those two.”
Chu Duxiu watched as the two celebrities took their seats. Qi Yunhan settled in without another move, while Lu Yi cast a glance toward the contestants’ section. He gave a nod to Cheng Junhua in the front row, prompting the veteran to bow nervously in return.
Seeing this, Chu Duxiu couldn’t help but recall the big shot’s social anxiety at the dinner party, finding the contrast rather amusing.
Su Xinyi began, “Now, let us introduce the rules for the final. The competition will be divided into three rounds. The first round is the Self-Selected Topic Round, where the Top Nine contestants will perform freely. Based on live audience voting, the top three will advance and await the Four-Way Showdown.”
Luo Qin continued, “The remaining contestants will move to the Pending Zone and enter the second round—the Six-to-One Knockout—to fight for the last spot in the Final Four.”
As the hosts explained, the big screen displayed the competition flow, clarifying the format for everyone: Round One – Self-Selected Topic; Round Two – Knockout; Round Three – Assigned Topic.
“After the first two rounds, the Final Four will move on to the Assigned Topic Round. The theme is ‘Where the Journey of Laughter Begins,’ and they will compete for the title of this season’s King of Stand-Up.”
“There are 300 live audience members for the finale, each with one vote. In addition, the four laughter representatives can hit their buzzers to add extra votes—each buzzer adds twenty votes, bringing the total to 380 votes.”
As the rules explanation concluded, applause filled the venue.
While clapping, the contestants began to murmur among themselves, “So the top three from the first round get to skip the knockout stage?”
“Yep. First-round top three go straight to the Final Four. The knockout round will decide the last spot.”
Scallion scratched his head. “Man, the pressure’s real.”
Wang Nali said, “Look at me—no pressure at all. I’m not making the Final Four anyway, so I’ll just focus on delivering my set well.”
Chu Duxiu chimed in, “Exactly. Except for whoever wins the knockout round, everyone’s doing two routines. Pretty even, if you ask me.”
The performance order for the first round was determined by drawing lots, but there was one exception—Bei He volunteered to go first.
Everyone knew the opening act was the toughest job. The audience’s energy usually wasn’t warmed up yet, so choosing that spot earned him great respect.
Lu Fan said gently, “Looks like you’ve transcended earthly concerns.”
Bei He stood up, stretching his limbs. “If I don’t go to hell, who will? If I don’t become the springboard, who else can make it through?”
“Bei He, that’s bold! True champion spirit!”
“Go for it! You got this!”
The other contestants cheered him on with genuine support.
Immediately, a voice rang out from the stage: “Now, let’s welcome our first contestant—Bei He!”
At the sound of his name, Bei He raised both arms and dashed forward, waving wildly as he ran. Riding on the wave of applause, he zipped onto the stage like a lively, slippery fish.
He almost overshot the standing mic and had to brake hard at the last second, his exaggerated, carefree movements drawing laughter from the audience before he even spoke a word.
“You’re laughing at that already? You’re all so friendly and forgiving,” Bei He said as he grabbed the microphone. With a laid-back vibe and a sly grin, he added in a nonchalant tone, “Looks like after all these rounds, I’ve really cemented my clown image. Don’t even need jokes now to make people laugh.”
“Hello everyone, I’m Bei He.” He gave a deep, theatrical bow before continuing casually, “As you all know, I’m Shanle’s resident old-timer, and I finally hustled my way into the finals. After so many rounds, the directors and even the audience were getting anxious, asking me every day…”
“The director sees me and goes, ‘Bei He, you’ve rested enough, right? Time to bring the heat.’”
“And I said, ‘Almost, almost—slow build, strong finish, I’ve got staying power.’”
“My Weibo followers comment, ‘Bei He, that’s enough, give us something good.’”
“And I said, ‘Almost, almost—slow build, strong finish, I’ve got staying power.’”
“Even the bosses can’t hold back anymore: ‘Bei He, are you planning to wait until the finals to actually try?’”
Bei He coyly touched his face, ducking his head in mock panic. “I said, ‘Boss, of course not! Actually, I was planning to…’”
“‘Start trying in the semifinals?’”
“…‘Start trying after I retire.’”
The next second, he suddenly snapped his head up, fists raised high. “Happiness! Slow build, strong finish! Collect that pension—I’ve got staying power!”
The audience roared with laughter, and a spotlight lit up on stage!
The other contestants doubled over, their nerves melting away, all swept up by Bei He’s humor.
Lu Fan applauded admiringly. “Not bad—starting the finals like this works surprisingly well.”
Scallion clapped. “Bei He, a true master of setting the vibe.”
Chu Duxiu commented, “He’s starting to bring the energy—adding that pension. Bei He really has staying power.”
Bei He said helplessly, “What can I do, friends? Winning the championship—what’s the point? The other day I was even talking to someone: in Season One, Lu Fan and I fought tooth and nail; in Season Two, the new contestants are fighting us to the death. It just proves that the show’s reputation doesn’t mean much.”
Luo Qin couldn’t help but laugh and groan. “…Fighting to the death?”
“If we get a high ranking, we actually get tied down—kind of like workers in a first-tier city. Getting the official residency isn’t necessarily a good thing; it makes it really hard to leave the city. Others can come and go as they please, but you can’t leave, and it eats at you mentally.”
“Even if you become a champion, leaving would feel like such a waste. Otherwise, you could try hustling to buy a house through the show, right?” He hesitated. “Of course, inside, you’d still feel lost. But staying here doesn’t seem to help? Doesn’t feel like life quality improves?”
“At that point, others will kindly advise, ‘Hang in there—for the kids’ education, even if you spend all six of your best jokes for a down payment, you’ve got to secure a spot on the show!’”
“One day, I even complained to the other contestants: why are we squeezing out all our jokes and brainpower, pouring our heart and soul just to secure a place on this program? Good material is rare for actors—why waste it all in one show?”
“You could just take your best material somewhere else, live comfortably, and do commercial gigs every day.” Bei He crossed his arms and casually tilted his chin. “Right, Rookie Queen?”
Then, his expression grew serious, and his tone became sincere: “Who would have thought the response would be so rational: ‘Bei He, it’s not that I lack good jokes—I just lack your championship residency.’”
Laughter erupted in the venue, the second spotlight lit up, and the audience went wild.
Everyone teased Chu Duxiu, “So infuriating! Really infuriating! She’s got a whole pile of great jokes!”
“Seriously, her intro video had the most killer lines.”
Chu Duxiu chuckled, slightly embarrassed, covering her face. “I never said that to Bei He!”
Bei He continued, “So, I’ll respond publicly about why I’ve been lingering around, not leaving. Mainly, it’s for the next generation—what if I have kids someday, and they want to do comedy?”
“Then I can say, ‘Even though Dad didn’t get a school district house, I did win a championship back in the day, and now I pass it on to you.’”
“The kid looks at the trophy and nods: ‘Mm, the Season One King of Stand-Up champion. If we compare it to the housing market, either it’s old and small, or it’s brand-new and distant—but none are built inside the Third Ring.’”
Bei He turned to the right, as if about to leave. “Forget it, I’ll head downtown and check out Ms. Duxiu’s luxury villa instead.”
Laughter erupted from the audience.
“Lately, I’ve been reflecting too—why have I been so lazy? I wasn’t like this before. I realize it’s really my own problem. I shouldn’t treat hobbies as work. My past work habits were terrible; I just couldn’t control myself.”
Bei He said seriously, “My old job was all about talking nonsense—I had to write daily reports. But now my job is telling jokes. Sometimes I forget things for no reason. I’ve changed jobs, and every now and then I still mix things up.”
“Anyone who’s worked a while can probably relate. When you’ve been at a job too long, you develop inertia. Society isn’t a giant dye vat—it’s a giant vat of cooking oil. Stay in it too long, and you’re like a breakfast stall chef.”
“Every day they make pancakes—beat eggs, add scallions, cilantro, sausage. You spend all day cooking fried dough sticks, writing seemingly organized fake reports. Essentially, it’s the same thing.”[1]
He shrugged. “The first one sells to passersby; the second sells to the boss. Honestly, fried dough sticks aren’t even as filling as pancakes.”
Laughter erupted immediately. Everyone applauded in agreement, and the third spotlight on stage was lit!
The other contestants laughed heartily, unable to hold back their applause.
“I can’t take this, seriously can’t take this!” they shouted, joking, “Bosses, Bei He’s promising you the moon… but here’s the fried dough sticks!”
“And when you’ve worked in a company long enough, you really start to see the ugly side of office life. I used to have some bad luck, and my colleagues would comfort me,” Bei He continued. “‘Oh, poor you, that’s tough—don’t take it to heart.’”
“But now they don’t do that anymore. The other day, I was under so much pressure writing a script that I slumped at the theater entrance, feeling completely defeated. Maybe I looked that miserable, because a delivery guy saw me. He had a takeout bag in his hand, suddenly came over, handed it to me, and said, ‘I don’t have cash either, the restaurant didn’t want it back—take it.’”
“I was stunned, thinking, am I really doing that badly? I’ve at least been on the show, right?” Bei He widened his eyes. “I hurriedly declined: ‘No, no, you must be mistaken, actually I…’”
“The guy was so earnest, saying, ‘No worries, I can tell you’re having a tough time—just eat it!’”
“…”
Bei He was speechless, scanning the audience, and shook his head in mock despair, which sparked waves of laughter.
“What’s the most frustrating part? I went back and told my colleagues about this,” he said in disbelief. “Not only did they not comfort me, saying how pitiful I was—they actually got sarcastic and jealous, showing their envy in full force!”
The next moment, he rolled his eyes and imitated them perfectly, his tone sharp and cutting, “Oh—what’s so pitiful about you? Didn’t you get what you wanted? Now you’ve got jokes to write!”
“Bei He, we all envy you. This is heaven rewarding you—you’ve got to eat it!”
His dramatic delivery fired up the audience, making even Qi Yunhan laugh so hard he nearly fell back. With a booming sound effect, the fourth spotlight lit up on stage, amplifying the crowd’s excitement.
“Others are short on money, but I’m short on jokes!”
“I bet the delivery guy didn’t expect that—just delivering food, and he ends up playing a cameo as God!”
Laughter erupted uncontrollably in the venue, the audience buzzing like a swarm of bees, fully alive in the vivid performance.
The other contestants clapped along, boosting Bei He’s momentum, their faces equally bright with smiles.
Nie Feng cheered, “Great opening! The rest will be easy to perform!”
Lu Fan added, “Feels like he’s not trying to win the championship—he’s just saying everything he wants to say…”
On stage, as the laughter gradually subsided, Bei He slowly delivered his closing words.
“Lingering in the game isn’t slacking—it’s self-preservation, a steady, long-term effort. I’m still standing on this stage to show others this truth.”
“The show will end, but laughter has no limits. After reaching the peak, you can walk a gentle slope—not chasing fireworks for fleeting brilliance, but aiming for the enduring shine of a star.”
“I hope the audience enjoys the live finale, and also that you’ll keep an eye on our offline events.”
“Thank you, everyone. I’m Bei He!”
He raised both arms high, jumping off the stage amid the crowd’s cheers.
Translator’s Notes:
[1] Deep-fried dough stick（老油条）in Chinese slang also refers to long-time office workers. It carried the metaphorical sense of a seasoned, experienced person who’s been “soaked” in the system long enough to know all the tricks—someone who can coast through work or navigate office politics with ease.
