The opening performance swept away the gloom that had lingered for far too long. The audience erupted in thunderous applause, and after the fits of laughter, they offered their heartfelt tribute in an endless standing ovation.
Most of the attendees had already watched the show and came specifically for “There’s an Inside Joke We’d Like to Share” – they were not just live audience members, but genuine fans of the program. Having followed the show’s journey from its inception, they were deeply moved by the raw energy of the live performance and expressed their appreciation with resounding applause.
As Chu Duxiu’s performance came to an end, the entire theater was buzzing with excitement.
The audience’s pent-up emotions were finally released, and they gradually relaxed, responding with equal enthusiasm to the subsequent performances.
As the first performer, Chu Duxiu fearlessly called out the absurdities of the finals. The following actors built upon her momentum – Wang Nali, Scallion, and others took the stage one after another, sharing how the finals and the show had impacted them. Some mocked the chaotic finale, some depicted the surreal experience of returning home after gaining fame, and others recounted their early days at the company, each story sparking wave after wave of laughter.
The premiere was a resounding success. After all the performances concluded, the entire cast was called back onstage once again.
Bei He announced loudly, “Today is our additional premiere show. Let’s welcome all the performers back on stage to take a group photo with the audience. The photographer will upload the photo later, and everyone can download and use it as they like.”
Chu Duxiu and the others hurried onto the stage amidst cheers from the audience. After greeting the crowd, they stood side by side in a row, turning their backs to the seats to capture a panoramic view of the theater from the stage.
Bei He suggested with a smile, “It’s not often we have so many people for a group photo. Let’s all shout a slogan together. I think there’s a theme from the finals that fits perfectly.”
A moment later, the photographer crouched in front of the performers, holding up his DSLR camera. “Alright, steady now. Three, two, one… Today is-”
“Where laughter begins!”
The shout echoed through the theater like white doves taking flight under a clear blue sky.
Amidst a series of clicks, the smiling faces of the performers and the audience were frozen in time, forever etched into the photograph.
Life indeed goes on, and laughter begins anew.
Following the premiere of There’s an Inside Joke We’d Like to Share, reviews of the performance quickly surged online, with the first show receiving considerable acclaim.
Many shared their post-viewing thoughts, praising the high quality of the content and the well-balanced mix of inside jokes and general humor. They noted that while the show was particularly enjoyable for fans of The Stand-Up King, even those unfamiliar with the program could follow along without confusion.
[Having the Rookie Queen open the show was a brilliant move – it really set the tone. Seeing all the performers that followed, I felt unexpectedly moved, reminiscing about the days I followed the show. The finals had left me frustrated, but now I feel much better.]
[Aww, our fandom might be small and not exactly rolling in cash, but we’re united and kind. It still feels just as warm and fun as the show did. I might get flak for saying this, but it’s a shame one person is missing.]
[Don’t worry about getting criticized – I’ll say it for you: Let’s crowdfund a ticket for Cheng Junhua!]
[Let’s crowdfund Cheng Junhua’s performance! This show would be perfect with the top two opening and closing it!]
[I suggest taking the national tour so Black Light Lu can see it!!]
[Hahaha, would he pay to get roasted?]
[That’s a stand-up comedy feud – he wouldn’t even make it past the ticket check, let alone hear the jokes (doge).]
[Wait, that intense? Did they really go after Lu Yi!?]
[…Wouldn’t insulting people on stage be kind of low?]
[Not as low as that apology letter. Besides, live shows have censors too – they’re a bit looser than online, but it’s not like they’re just cursing up there.]
[Nah, it was more like a warm greeting and concern for Director Lu’s health and career, showing heartfelt human compassion. Truly touching China.]
[Everyone else cares about whether Lu Yi’s work is good – only Chu Duxiu cares about whether he’s doing well (doge).]
[Shanle, be a dear and send some complimentary tickets to the great Director Lu (doge).]
[Has anyone who’s seen it share what the inside jokes are about?]
[A major medical incident.]
[A deep dive into the text of Lu Yi’s Weibo apology letter, analyzing his back-to-basics comedy techniques.]
[Think bigger, broaden your horizons – it’s about workers of the world, unite!]
[??? What’s with all the riddles?]
[…Well, now I kinda want to see it.]
[If you managed to get a ticket, it’s absolutely worth it – all the performers have been on the show, so the value for money is great.]
[At some other clubs, the ticket prices would be five or six times higher.]
[If you didn’t get a ticket, you can wait for new shows – don’t buy overpriced resales! Avoiding plagiarized performances also helps protect the industry!]
[Steer clear of the following clubs and companies – they rip off jokes and rely on capital backing. Those in the know get it; don’t blindly throw your money at them.]
[Don’t worry – no matter how much Black Light Lu’s company copies, they can’t steal Chu Duxiu’s material (doge).]
[LMAO, some toxic guys even tried to report Chu for “personal attacks” – as clueless as Lu himself.]
[That’s what happens when you don’t understand the law – arrogant, presumptuous, and only capable of raging helplessly.]
[Let me be blunt: Lu isn’t even human – now that’s a personal attack (doge).]
After the additional shows concluded, it wasn’t that Lu Yi and his company were unaware of the buzz – after all, their offline performances were in direct competition, so they naturally sent people to infiltrate Shanle’s theater to eavesdrop on the content.
However, There’s an Inside Joke We’d Like to Share was uniquely stylized – not the kind of material that could be easily plagiarized or stolen. The performance frequently referenced Lu Yi without crossing legal boundaries, making it impossible to report or sue over the content, which only infuriated those involved even more.
Lu Yi and his team attempted to seek legal recourse while also pressuring Shanle with warnings, but the theater’s shows continued uninterrupted, completely unfazed.
Was this defamation? Was this abuse?
No – this was simply an objective recounting of reality, delivered with minimal comedic embellishment. By no stretch could it be considered sensitive content.
Shanle’s legal department made it clear that unauthorized disclosure of performance content would be met with legal action, and that they would not tolerate any form of improper evidence gathering – especially since the show’s content was both reasonable and lawful.
This was a clear signal that all pretenses had been dropped, leaving Lu Yi and his team hitting a solid wall of resistance. Fuming but powerless, they could only watch as the show grew increasingly popular, with audiences flocking to the theater night after night to hear Chu Duxiu’s material.
Plagiarism posed a real threat to the industry’s interests, and the battle between Shanle Culture and Lu Yi’s company had officially begun – a conflict that showed no signs of ending soon and seemed poised to become a drawn-out war.
As stand-up comedy gained momentum, ticket prices for live performances soared, with many obscure companies feeling emboldened to charge exorbitant rates.
Yet Shanle Culture conscientiously kept prices reasonable, refusing to rashly jack up costs. Not only did they consistently sell out every show, but as Chu Duxiu and others performed more frequently, growing numbers of audience members began to recognize the importance of original content. They started avoiding poorly executed, plagiarized performances and learned to seek out high-quality shows.
When the wave of capital floods in, every boat rises – but only the sturdiest ships can sail far.
Even though stand-up comedy had once been a niche pursuit, Shanle’s years of groundwork were undeniable. Whether in scriptwriting resources, theater management, cost control, or content reserves, they operated at the top of their field.
This became a dual battle – fought on the fronts of both ticket pricing and performance quality – and it wasn’t long before Lu Yi’s company was utterly routed in Haicheng. Unable to sustain operations in Shanle’s home territory, their locally staged shows drew sparse crowds and little interest.
Left with no other choice, Lu Yi’s company temporarily withdrew from the Haicheng market, turning instead to other cities in search of opportunities – steering clear of Shanle Culture’s overwhelming influence.
The performances in Haicheng were in full swing, and the national tour was also progressing smoothly.
The second stop of There’s an Inside Joke We’d Like to Share was set in Yancheng – one of the most economically developed cities in the country and a place where many performers’ dreams began.
Chu Duxiu and the team arrived in Yancheng together, splitting their time between preparing for commercial shows at the theater and setting up a training camp in an office building.
The familiar office tower stood by the roadside, flanked by lush trees whose bare winter branches had now sprouted tender buds, bursting into vibrant green with the arrival of early summer.
Inside the building, the sleek glass walls were adorned with the Shanle logo. The classrooms were bright and spacious, with neatly arranged desks and chairs – everything remained exactly as it had been. Lu Fan stood at the podium, checking the training camp roster, while others gathered to organize teaching materials.
Scallion and Nie Feng each carried a box of books, stacking them in the corner of the classroom. Chu Duxiu and Wang Nali pushed a whiteboard into the room, guiding it slowly into place against the wall opposite the podium.
Lu Fan said gently, “That should be about it. Everyone, take a break.”
Once the setup was complete, the group finally paused to drink water and rest.
“Back in our original classroom,” Wang Nali remarked as she glanced around. She hurried over to one of the desks and patted it excitedly. “Remember? We used to sit right here.”
This was the same classroom where they had all attended the training camp the previous year. Surprisingly, it was still being used, and even the instructor remained Lu Fan.
“I remember. Time flies,” Chu Duxiu mused. “Never thought we’d be the ones giving talks someday.”
This year, influenced by the show’s popularity, Shanle’s training camp had been flooded with applications, growing into a much larger class. In the end, to maintain the quality of training, the company limited enrollment but promised to open additional classes later.
As popular performers, Chu Duxiu and the others had been invited to share their experiences at the camp. Just a year ago, they had arrived here as wide-eyed newcomers, fearless and stumbling their way into the world of stand-up comedy. Now, they were back – something they had never dared to imagine before.
Scallion glanced at the whiteboard, picked up a marker, and began doodling. “Let’s write some inspiring words for the new students!”
Hearing this, Chu Duxiu and Wang Nali scurried over as well, joining in to decorate the board with welcome messages and their own signatures. Soon, the board was a lively, colorful display.
With the training camp set up, it was time for the group to grab a meal.
After the finals, Nie Feng hadn’t taken a position at Shanle Culture but had returned to Yancheng to run his club, “Typoon Transit.” As their local host, he invited everyone to gather at his bar for a small private event, explaining that it was closed to the public today – only friends from the show were welcome.
In the parking lot, Nie Feng ushered everyone toward the car with a cheerful grin. “Jingjing made honey-glazed chicken cutlet rice today.”
Chu Duxiu’s eyes lit up at the mention. She squeezed into the back seat with Wang Nali and Lu Fan.
Nie Feng added, “Scallion, it feels like you haven’t been back in a while either…”
Scallion, seated in the passenger seat, nodded. “Last time I was here was for an open mic. I should be able to stop by more often these days.”
Wang Nali and Lu Fan, who had never been to the bar before, listened with interest, finding the whole exchange fresh and exciting.
Lu Fan asked curiously, “Are both of your schools over there?”
“Yeah, her university was right next to mine – just across the street.”
Wang Nali turned to the person beside her. “So, do you need to go back to campus to pick up your things? I remember you mentioned last time that you wanted to move them during a business trip.”
“There’s just a little left in the dorm. Once I grab this batch, I can return the keys.” Chu Duxiu hesitated. “But it might not be convenient to do it today.”
Nie Feng waved it off. “No problem. After we eat at the bar, you can swing by your dorm to pick everything up. I’ll drive you all back to the hotel afterward – it’ll be easy to bring your stuff along. Much simpler than moving it on your own.”
Since everyone was in town on business, they were naturally staying at a hotel rather than on campus.
Chu Duxiu thought it sounded like a good plan and replied promptly, “Okay, thanks.”
At the street corner, Chu Duxiu was the first to get out of the car, planning to head back to campus to collect her things before meeting everyone at the club. With some time still before dinner, this way the group could leave directly after the meal without waiting for her to return to the university – making things much more efficient.
On campus, Chu Duxiu bid farewell to the dorm room that had been her home for four years, now empty and quiet. She returned her keys to the dorm supervisor and left with her final belongings. Carrying a plastic storage bin in both hands, with a giant plush rabbit toy perched on top, she trudged toward the bar, breaking into a light sweat after just a few steps.
The door chimed as it swung open. The regulars at Typoon Transit couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of her.
Scallion teased, “You went back to grab your stuff – and brought a plus-one to mooch a meal?”
Chen Jing paused, looking puzzled. “Did she bring a friend? I’ll set an extra place.”
“Don’t listen to him…”
Chu Duxiu pushed the storage bin into a corner and carefully placed the plush rabbit on top. Seeing that everyone else had already taken their seats, she hurriedly washed her hands and returned, only to freeze at the sight of the seating arrangement.
Inside the bar, several small tables had been pushed together to form one large table, already laden with food and drinks. The others were deep in conversation, having settled in some time ago. From left to right sat Lu Fan, Chen Jing, Nie Feng, Scallion, and Wang Nali – with one empty seat remaining right next to Wang Nali.
Notably, there was already someone sitting beside that empty spot.
Xie Shenci noticed her hesitation, turned back in mild surprise, and blinked. Then, as though she were somehow unable to grasp the obvious, he pointed considerately toward the vacant seat beside him, patiently guiding her to sit down.
Chu Duxiu: “…”
Of course she knew she was supposed to sit there!
What she didn’t understand was – when had he arrived, and why was the seating arranged like this!?
Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Chu Duxiu reluctantly took her seat, wedged between Xie Shenci and Wang Nali.
She had shared a table with Xie Shenci at this bar before, but back then, they had always sat across from each other. Now, squeezed side by side at the same long table, she suddenly felt awkward and hesitant, even struggling to reach for dishes comfortably. The close proximity made it easy for their arms to brush against each other with the slightest movement.
Maybe it was the change in temperature, or the shift in their relationship, or perhaps just her own emotions acting up. Sitting in the cramped bar, Chu Duxiu felt her face grow warm for no apparent reason, as if the air around them had grown still and stifling.
Xie Shenci had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing clean, defined wrists and the subtle lines of his forearms. Occasionally, he reached for dishes placed farther away. Under the light, the fair skin of his arms hinted at faint bluish veins, conveying a sense of flowing, restrained strength that seemed to drift in and out of her vision.
Chu Duxiu kept her head down, focused on her meal, too embarrassed to stare.
Does he have to roll up his sleeves like that?
So indecent – where’s his sense of propriety!?
Perhaps sensing her unease, Xie Shenci turned his head and asked gently, “What would you like? Should I get it for you?”
She hadn’t reached for anything – maybe she couldn’t quite reach.
Chu Duxiu was taken aback.
He added, “Would you like something to drink?”
Flustered, she replied, “…Sure, thank you.”
A strange atmosphere lingered as she nervously held out her cup, letting Xie Shenci fill it for her.
“Why do you two seem so restrained?” Chen Jing studied them, looking puzzled. “It wasn’t like this before.”
Chu Duxiu’s heart skipped a beat. She quickly took a tactical sip of water and mumbled softly, “Well, he’s the boss now.”
Wang Nali asked, “What were they like before?”
Chen Jing thought for a moment, then smiled. “They were much more familiar back then. So much so that he once dug through our trash can just to get her phone number.”
Xie Shenci: “…”
Chu Duxiu: “Pfft-“
