The willingness of Su Xinyi, Luo Qin, and Qi Yunhan to join undoubtedly brings significant support to the production team.
This also serves as a statement from the show itself. Shanle is committed to enhancing the program’s quality, and reuniting the finale guests naturally generates its own buzz.
The group sat around the table and began discussing serious matters.
Xie Shenci said calmly, “There’s one more thing for today’s meeting: we’d like to discuss the competition format for Season 3 with both of you.”
Su Xinyi nodded. “Absolutely. We shouldn’t let what happened last time occur again.”
Shang Xiaomei added, “The current idea is to have three ‘Laughter Representatives’ each hold one button worth two votes. However, each segment will include a revival privilege. Based on the audience’s reactions and their personal preferences, each representative can revive one eliminated contestant, allowing them to advance to the next round.”
“So the votes drop from twenty to two just like that?” Luo Qin responded with a mix of amusement and exasperation. Though he didn’t outright oppose the idea, he asked, “But if we revive a contestant, wouldn’t the audience accuse us of giving them an unfair advantage?”
If an eliminated contestant is revived and advances alongside other winners, it’s inevitable that people will speculate about behind-the-scenes favoritism.
Shang Xiaomei explained, “Reviving contestants involves a revival round. Since there are three Laughter Representatives, their choices might differ. If the guests select the same eliminated contestant, that contestant will advance directly without competing. But if two or more contestants are chosen, they must participate in a revival playoff, where audience votes will determine the outcome, and only one can be revived in the end.”
Luo Qin asked, “So we’re just giving them a chance to be revived, but whether they succeed depends on their own efforts?”
“Exactly.”
“That’s acceptable.” Luo Qin nodded. “The audience still has the final say.”
Su Xinyi asked, “If we feel none of the eliminated contestants are worthy of revival, can we instead select an already advanced contestant to allow them to skip the next round?”
“Well…” Shang Xiaomei pondered. “That would require further discussion. It seems like there could be more loopholes in practice, and it’s different from reviving eliminated contestants.”
Su Xinyi glanced at Chu Duxiu and suddenly asked, “By the way, will Duxiu and other contestants from last season also start from the knockout round? Or will they join midway?”
Chu Duxiu said, “We don’t need to go through the open auditions, but we’ll participate in all other rounds the same as everyone else.”
Luo Qin exclaimed in surprise, “Wow, that’s intense competition – starting all over again. Don’t the veterans get any privileges?”
Chu Duxiu hesitated, seeming to hold back her words.
Noticing this, Su Xinyi glanced at Xie Shenci before turning back to Chu Duxiu. Putting on a solemn expression, she said, “Don’t be afraid. We’re all here – if something feels off about the competition format, feel free to speak up.”
Chu Duxiu was young and not particularly assertive by nature. With her boss present, she might have held back from voicing her thoughts.
Worried that Chu Duxiu felt unable to speak freely, Su Xinyi half-jokingly offered her support.
“Right, don’t be scared of Mr. Xie,” Luo Qin chimed in with a laugh. “And Director Shang, if you have any grievances, feel free to share them too.”
Shang Xiaomei clicked her tongue. “Oh, there are plenty of those. My grievances against the boss couldn’t be finished in a day or two.”
Xie Shenci, caught off guard by the sudden criticism: “?”
As the higher-ups good-naturedly called each other out, the group burst into laughter.
“So, Duxiu, speak your mind – don’t worry about the boss pushing you around,” Su Xinyi rapped her knuckles on the table righteously. “We’ve got your back!”
Xie Shenci, teased by the others, didn’t openly show annoyance. His expression remained neutral as he murmured almost inaudibly, “Who’s pushing whom around? That’s still up for debate.”
After all, Shang Liang and Shang Xiaomei might complain about him a little, but Chu Duxiu was the one who’d barged into his office alone. It was hard to say who really had the upper hand.
“Haha,” Chu Duxiu forced a dry laugh, overhearing his muttered words. She couldn’t help but feel a prickling sense of unease.
Seeing the guests speaking up on her behalf, she hurriedly explained, “I really don’t have any issues with the competition format. I did wonder whether returning contestants from last season should skip some rounds, but from the audience’s perspective, I’m sure they’d want to see as many great performances as possible.”
Luo Qin agreed, “That’s true. If it were me, I’d want to see the strongest contestants right from the first episode, not have to wait until later rounds.”
Chu Duxiu fell silent for a few seconds, her eyelids lowering as she confessed, “Besides, last season, Bei He and Ms. Lu did the same – they coached us while competing themselves. Other seniors also set aside their pride to fully participate in the show. There’s no reason why I should be an exception. It just feels a bit… you know…”
To be honest, everyone hopes for special privileges and favorable treatment in the competition, not wanting to start from scratch again. It’s human nature and shouldn’t be criticized.
But lately, she had been reflecting on many things, especially after teaching at the training camp a few times. Looking back, her perspective had shifted.
In the past, she had pushed herself to the limit to prove her worth and strive for first place in the competition. Now, however, she found herself considering more – whether she truly deserved the position she held.
Could she, like Lu Fan, Bei He, and Cheng Junhua, willingly set aside past glories and throw herself back into the fray?
It’s easy to demand much from others, but difficult to demand the same from oneself.
Su Xinyi was taken aback by her words, her eyes softening with affection. “It seems we were the ones thinking too narrowly. You’re more mature than we are.”
Perhaps, on the night she became the uncrowned champion, Chu Duxiu had already transcended worldly measures, forging within herself a steadfast standard of self-worth and achieving a new level of self-acceptance.
Hearing this, both Xie Shenci and Shang Xiaomei gazed at Chu Duxiu with equally gentle expressions, visibly moved by her words.
“And besides, I have shares in the company now. If the show does well, I get dividends -I can’t afford to work against my own financial interests.” Chu Duxiu sighed, then sneakily glanced at Xie Shenci and muttered, “I just hope the boss recognizes my hard work and decides to grant me more shares.”
The sudden twist instantly amused everyone.
Luo Qin laughed, “So this was your plan all along – turning the tables on the boss!”
Su Xinyi joined in, “Playing the long game to catch the big fish.”
“Mr. Xie, she’s calling you out!” Shang Xiaomei, never one to miss a chance to stir the pot, teased, “Aren’t you going to say something? Can’t let our key contributor feel unappreciated – wouldn’t want to dampen her spirits.”
Xie Shenci shot her a sidelong glance, his tone laced with meaning. “…If you all have no objections, I’m actually fine with it.”
Shang Xiaomei chimed in gleefully, “We have no objections – we just want a new boss.”
Watching Director Shang practically push him off the metaphorical throne, Chu Duxiu panicked and interjected, “No, no, let’s not change bosses…”
Luo Qin laughed, trying to smooth things over. “Duxiu still cares about Mr. Xie’s feelings. Not like us – ruthless and merciless.”
Hearing this, Xie Shenci’s gaze drifted toward Chu Duxiu, as if waiting for her to speak up in his defense.
“Right, I just want the shares. Mr. Xie should stay as boss,” Chu Duxiu lowered her head, slightly embarrassed. “I want to be well-liked, not criticized. I’m just here to make money, that’s all.”
After all, friction was inevitable in any workplace. Someone had to shoulder the burden, absorb the employees’ frustrations, and divert the pressure and backlash.
Xie Shenci: “???”
The room erupted in uproarious laughter.
Shang Xiaomei doubled over with amusement. “The blame-shifter finally gets shifted! What goes around comes around!”
Before long, the details for the third season of “The Stand-Up King” were finalized. The conversation then drifted to other topics, punctuated by Chu Duxiu’s witty remarks, creating a relaxed and cheerful atmosphere.
Just then, a knock sounded at the conference room door. Everyone in the room paused briefly before calling out, “Come in.”
A man wearing a mask – only his sharp brows and bright eyes visible – peeked in from outside and remarked with a chuckle, “You all sound like you’re having a great time. Your laughter could be heard out in the hallway.”
Su Xinyi recognized the voice and asked in surprise, “I thought you weren’t available?”
“I wrapped up earlier than expected and decided to stop by since I was in the area.” The man removed his mask, revealing a handsome face – it was Qi Yunhan. “And Mr. Luo still hasn’t replied to my message.”
Luo Qin glanced down at his phone. “Ah, I didn’t see it.”
Qi Yunhan stepped into the room and greeted everyone warmly. “Long time no see, Mr. Xie, Director Shang, and Ms. Chu.”
Hearing the address, Chu Duxiu felt a flutter of nervousness and hurriedly replied, “…I don’t deserve that title, really.”
Qi Yunhan was a top-tier celebrity. The moment he appeared, the area outside the conference room quickly filled with onlookers – even staff members gathered to catch a glimpse of the excitement.
People cautiously peeked through the doorway, phones in hand, lining up as if waiting for a chance to take photos together.
Su Xinyi was both amused and exasperated. “Even I don’t get this kind of reception when I come to the company!”
This was Su Xinyi’s talent agency. The staff saw her often and were naturally no longer starstruck by her presence, making the visiting artist the center of attention instead.
Shang Xiaomei remarked admiringly, “It’s just like when we were recording the show -I’ve never seen everyone so excited.”
Luo Qin added, “Well, we’re pretty much done here anyway. Why don’t you step outside and take some photos with them?”
“You’re asking me to leave right after I arrived?” Qi Yunhan looked puzzled but didn’t put on any airs. He turned and headed toward the door. “Alright then.”
As Qi Yunhan and the others opened the door, people from outside the conference room streamed in, chatting and laughing warmly. Despite her earlier teasing about Qi Yunhan’s popularity at the company, Su Xinyi helped her absent assistant ask for an autographed photo and even assisted other employees in taking pictures with him.
Others from Shanle Culture who hadn’t entered the conference room earlier also stepped forward to join the conversation, creating a lively and harmonious atmosphere.
Seeing the crowd swelling, Chu Duxiu found a small corner and tried to hide herself, hoping to wait out the surge of excitement.
Noticing her retreat, Qi Yunhan thought for a moment, not wanting her to feel left out, and kindly offered, “Shall we take a photo together?”
Chu Duxiu was taken aback. “Ah, thank you…”
Unwilling to outright decline such a kind gesture, even if she felt indifferent about taking the photo, she handed her phone to Director Shang and asked her to help capture a picture of the two of them.
Shang Xiaomei took a couple of steps back, adopting a professional stance as she swiftly captured the moment. “Perfect! You both look great – beautiful and handsome!”
Once the photo was taken, Qi Yunhan made his way out, and the crowd in the conference room gradually thinned.
Clutching her phone, Chu Duxiu retreated back into her corner. She glanced down at the photo, turned off the screen, and looked up – only to spot another person not far away.
Her eyes met Xie Shenci’s. He didn’t say a word, calmly turning his head instead to observe the lively chatter by the door.
Chu Duxiu: “…”
Well, damn. Why did she feel a twinge of guilt?
She kept her gaze fixed on him until he could no longer bear it and turned back to face her.
Noticing her fixed gaze, Xie Shenci asked quietly, “What is it?”
Most of the people in the conference room had spilled out into the hallway to chat, leaving the room nearly empty as everyone focused their attention on the celebrities.
“Mr. Xie, aren’t you going to take a photo with them?” Chu Duxiu sidled up to him and ventured, “I could take one for you.”
Xie Shenci declined outright. “No, thanks. I don’t like taking photos with people.”
Though his tone was perfectly normal and calm, her unique mental wavelength with him somehow picked up an underlying hint of something else.
Chu Duxiu struggled to hold back a laugh and muttered under her breath, “Right, you don’t smile – it’s just not in your nature to laugh.”
Suddenly, she remembered that day when she’d asked for an autographed photo for Wang Nali. His reason for politely refusing had been exactly the same – never directly expressing dissatisfaction, but deflecting with all sorts of unrelated remarks.
Hearing her teasing tone, Xie Shenci couldn’t help but look at her.
Chu Duxiu immediately stopped teasing him. With a sincere expression, she reassured him, “Don’t be unhappy.”
At that moment, she set aside all her complicated thoughts, purely wishing for him to cheer up. Perhaps they were both too attuned to each other’s emotions – just like that night after Typoon Transit when he’d instinctively reacted and told her, “Don’t be unhappy.”
Xie Shenci’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, and his tone softened a little. “I’m not unhappy.”
“Really?” Chu Duxiu made as if to turn away, teasingly adding, “Then I’ll go check on Director Shang and the others…”
He frowned. “…Wait.”
Just as expected – too shy to express himself openly, pretending nothing was wrong. The classic push-and-pull of a little cat.
Chu Duxiu moved closer to him, pulled out her phone, and proactively suggested, “Let’s take a photo together.”
Xie Shenci fell silent for a moment before mumbling, “Why?”
“We’ve never taken a photo together before,” she declared matter-of-factly. “Even if you don’t like it, just bear with it.”
Xie Shenci shot her a glance. “…You’re so domineering.”
“Can’t let our key contributor feel unappreciated – wouldn’t want to dampen her spirits,” Chu Duxiu argued with conviction. “Just one photo? Come on, we’re here already, and it’s not often we get to visit another company.”
Though neither of them considered visiting another company a particularly memorable or precious experience, Chu Duxiu switched her phone to selfie mode and casually adjusted the camera. Almost instinctively, the person beside her drifted into the frame.
Xie Shenci didn’t say “let’s take it” or “I don’t want to.” He simply shifted slightly, easing himself into the shot.
Chu Duxiu found it amusing. Pretending not to notice, she moved her phone again as if adjusting the lighting.
Xie Shenci subtly readjusted along with her.
Chu Duxiu raised her phone higher.
His gaze lifted accordingly.
What a fascinating way to tease a cat.
After a few rounds of this, Xie Shenci caught on to her little game. Rather than growing impatient, he simply asked, “Are we taking the photo or not?”
“We are, we are.”
The phone screen flashed, capturing images of the two of them – several shots in quick succession.
They didn’t deliberately pose; they simply looked into the camera naturally. Yet, inexplicably, the corners of their mouths curved upward – not the forced smiles often worn for photos, but more like grins they couldn’t quite suppress.
After the photos were taken, Xie Shenci’s expression remained calm on the surface, but his mood visibly brightened, a clear shift from his earlier indifference.
Seeing this, Chu Duxiu knew she’d done the right thing – a simple photo had solved the problem.
Of course, as she browsed through the pictures, a flicker of joy stirred within her as well. It felt like they’d shared a new secret, one they couldn’t announce to others but could only quietly cherish, letting it ferment in their hearts like the sweetness of fruit wine.
For some reason, even the silliest, most meaningless things they did together somehow managed to bring them absurd amounts of happiness.
Xie Shenci watched her scroll through the photos and said, “Send them to me.”
Chu Duxiu teased him deliberately, “I thought you didn’t like taking photos?”
Who was it that had been all aloof, claiming he didn’t like taking pictures with people? And now here he was, asking for the photos – quite the reversal.
“That’s exactly why I have so few photos. Every one counts,” Xie Shenci replied with a straight face. “You never know when they might come in handy. Better to have them ready in advance.”
Chu Duxiu widened her eyes. “What possible use could a photo of the two of us have?”
She thought it was fine to keep the selfie as a memento – neither of them had bothered with posing properly, and if they were to share it publicly, it might come off as a bit silly.
“How could it not be useful?”
“…Like what, for example?”
Xie Shenci paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he said with mock seriousness, “For instance, something like a share transfer ceremony.”
Chu Duxiu: “…”
