Chu Duxiu went through the photos and selected a few to send to Xie Shenci.
Xie Shenci asked, “Just these two?”
Chu Duxiu replied, “The others don’t look good.”
“Send them all to me.”
Hearing his insistence, Chu Duxiu had no choice but to select the remaining photos and send them over helplessly.
Xie Shenci browsed through them with great interest, the corners of his lips curling up unconsciously, once again revealing the same expression as in the group photo. He pressed his lips together, swiped the screen with his fingertip, switching between the photos. The pad of his finger inadvertently brushed over her face in one of the pictures. His hand paused slightly before quickly lifting away, as if he had touched delicate snow on a branch – carefully, cautiously.
As the series of photos flowed by, they merged into a seamless video, capturing every expression of him and her in the group photo.
Chu Duxiu, noticing the laughter in his eyes, said, “Stop grinning like a fool.”
The photos weren’t particularly well taken – both of them were just standing there somewhat stiffly. Yet he seemed so satisfied, unable to hide his smile, which naturally made her want to tease him.
Xie Shenci admired them repeatedly. “They look good.”
“…Your taste is questionable.”
It wasn’t until Shang Xiaomei and the others returned that Xie Shenci finally put away his phone, stopping his browsing through the series of photos.
Shortly after, the Shanle crew bid farewell to the celebrities and left the company together, heading back to the hotel by car.
Chu Duxiu and Xie Shenci weren’t in the same car. Walking behind him, she noticed him take out his phone again, his fingers casually swiping across the screen.
Is he looking at the photos again? Are they really that good?
As she boarded the car, Chu Duxiu silently grumbled to herself. Once she settled in her seat, she noticed Shang Xiaomei was on a phone call in the passenger seat, temporarily too occupied to pay attention to her. Seizing the opportunity, she quietly took out her own phone to review the photos she had taken out of boredom earlier.
Feeling a bit guilty, she tilted the screen close to her face to prevent others from noticing anything unusual. She couldn’t help but take several glances.
They actually look quite good?
Just moments ago, she had found them silly and awkward, but upon closer inspection, they now seemed rather pleasing – as if she had been transported back to the moment the photos were taken, stirring a familiar and secret joy within her.
After a while, Shang Xiaomei hung up the phone and sighed, “Shang Liang is also coming to Yancheng. The company is practically empty this time.”
Chu Duxiu asked curiously, “Is Mr. Shang here for business?”
Shang Xiaomei replied, “Yes, but we probably won’t run into him. He booked a flight in the early hours of the morning and plans to return right after his work is done. He might not come to see the tour performance.”
Chu Duxiu nodded in understanding. Shang Liang was responsible for operations and finance, so he had little interaction with the actors and was usually more present at the company.
At Yancheng Airport, the dark tarmac was dotted with the lights of control towers, while the terminal building glittered with vibrant lights, bright and luminous like a dazzling constellation on the ground.
Late at night, the hall was still filled with passengers hurriedly passing through.
After landing, Shang Liang pulled his suitcase and followed Xie Shenci through the crowd toward the underground parking lot.
“I didn’t expect the taxi line to be this long at night,” Shang Liang said helplessly. “…Sorry to trouble you today.”
Shang Liang had been on a last-minute business trip and hadn’t had time to book a car in advance. The ride-hailing apps were flooded with long queues, forcing him to seek help from his colleague and friend. Fortunately, Xie Shenci was still awake and came without hesitation.
“It’s really not far – just on the way,” Xie Shenci said, holding the car keys as he led the way. “You’re the one who always insists on booking a car for business trips.”
“The company has a business trip procedure. Since when does the boss pick people up?” Shang Liang chided. “And you never use the company car when you’re in Yancheng, making reimbursements so confusing.”
Xie Shenci said, “Then don’t reimburse it.”
“You said it yourself.” Stepping into the parking lot, Shang Liang smiled nostalgically. “Alright, let’s just consider it a friend helping out. Feels a bit like our undergraduate days again.”
During their university years, the two met while studying abroad. International students often stuck together, occasionally helping each other out.
Had Shang Liang and Xie Shenci met domestically, they might not have become friends. But the environment abroad was different. Xie Shenci was a rare find among the norm – quiet yet remarkably capable, standing out from some of the more eccentric international students. He left a strong first impression on Shang Liang, and gradually, the two grew closer.
Later, whenever Shang Liang reflected on his choices, he would sigh over the misfortune of his acquaintances abroad. The other students from his hometown were simply too peculiar, making Xie Shenci seem refreshingly unique by comparison. It was this contrast that led Shang Liang to be deceived by Xie Shenci’s outwardly cool and elite demeanor, mistakenly believing him to be a composed high-achiever – only to eventually be lured onto Shanle’s “pirate ship.”
It took Shang Liang quite some time to realize that Xie Shenci wasn’t cold or aloof at all. In essence, he was a four-dimensional space stoic – no one could truly grasp his erratic train of thought. He spent his days pondering comedy and jokes, scrambling to salvage his grades at critical moments. His calm and detached facade was entirely fabricated; his mind was a whirlwind of wild, unfettered ideas.
He often did outrageous things – like now, for example, keeping strange items in his car.
The parking lot was dimly lit. As Shang Liang approached the dark car, he was suddenly startled by a vague, shadowy figure. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was just a plush toy placed in the passenger seat – not a person at all. He had nearly made a foolish mistake.
Xie Shenci opened the car door, and the interior lights instantly brightened, fully revealing the plush toy.
It was an adorable rabbit with charmingly naive features, striking red eyes, exquisite accessories, and a delightful design. Gone was the eeriness from moments before in the darkness – now it exuded a lively and spirited charm.
But instead of feeling reassured, Shang Liang was even more unnerved. Frozen outside the car, he hadn’t even put down his luggage yet. Hesitantly, he asked, “If I may ask… what is this?”
Why was there something like this in Xie Shenci’s car?
It was completely opposite of his personality.
Xie Shenci settled into the driver’s seat and explained, “It’s a plush toy.”
Shang Liang exclaimed in disbelief, “Of course I know it’s a toy! But do you really think it’s appropriate to keep it here?”
“It’s wearing a seatbelt, so it’s fine.” Xie Shenci tugged at the seatbelt fastened around the rabbit toy. With a deadpan expression, he stated matter-of-factly, “Its size doesn’t obstruct the view, and there’s no possibility of violating traffic regulations.”
“…”
“Am I supposed to praise you for being law-abiding?” Shang Liang was utterly exasperated. “That’s not the point! Who gave this to you? You actually accepted something from a girl!?”
Shang Liang was profoundly shocked, his mind reeling. If it were anyone else pulling a stunt like this – keeping couple items with a girlfriend or decorating with trinkets – he wouldn’t have been so astonished. He might even have considered it perfectly normal.
What truly stunned him was that the person doing this was Xie Shenci.
This guy had zero romantic flair even back in their undergraduate days. Though his striking looks often attracted female attention, whenever girls tried to strike up conversations with him, he would politely respond with a few words before quietly slipping away to attend some solo performance, acting like a clueless block of wood.
It wasn’t as if friends hadn’t tried advising Xie Shenci before, frustrated by his wooden demeanor. They urged him to engage in conversations with girls and learn to respond to their advances. But he never took it seriously, instead offering a meticulously reasoned argument: “We have no common topics, so there’s nothing to talk about.”
Shang Liang had once teased him, “It’s not that you lack topics – it’s that you simply refuse to talk.”
Girls were often left speechless by his cold humor and contrasting demeanor. Who had the patience to keep up with his chaotic train of thought?
Back then, Xie Shenci had insisted with conviction, “Whether we have common topics or not is obvious from the first encounter. There’s no need to force a conversation.”
It was a thoroughly four-dimensional attitude driven entirely by intuition.
And now, someone like him actually understood romance?
It was hard to describe Shang Liang’s astonishment – it felt like witnessing Mars colliding with Earth.
Xie Shenci replied calmly, “It was given by the stand-up comedian you admire the most.”
“When have I ever admired…” Shang Liang’s expression turned skeptical, then suddenly, as if realizing something, he trailed off. “You’re not talking about Chu Duxiu, are you?”
“Mm.”
Shang Liang’s heart sank, and he asked in horror, “Don’t tell me you two are…” dating?
Xie Shenci responded innocently, “Is that allowed?”
“Allowed? Of course not!” Shang Liang clutched his head in panic, even forgetting about his luggage. “Are you out of your mind? What were you thinking!?”
Why would you sabotage the company’s golden goose!?
Xie Shenci remained unruffled. “I was just thinking normally.”
Shang Liang frowned, growing agitated. “Xie Shenci, I misjudged you. I never noticed this flaw in you before – using your position to take advantage of others. Even a rabbit doesn’t eat the grass near its burrow. What am I supposed to say to you…”
Upon learning about the office romance, his first reaction was outright resistance.
Xie Shenci said, “…Why does everyone think I’m taking advantage of her?”
Xie Shenci couldn’t understand the outsiders’ misconceptions. Was it because her appearance was deceptive, or because she usually spoke with a softer tone, making everyone see her as an easy target?
Clearly, she had a strong side on stage, but those around her only remembered her in everyday life.
“Isn’t that the case? She even needed her family with her to sign the contract. She hasn’t been in the real world for long, and her mindset might not even be fully mature yet,” Shang Liang retorted sarcastically. “Of course, you’re pretty childish too, but at least you’re at the elementary school level. She’s still in kindergarten!”
“Kindergarteners can’t make money for the company,” Xie Shenci replied calmly. “Employing child labor is illegal.”
“…”
“No, absolutely not.” Shang Liang covered his face in agony, his mind in turmoil. He groaned, “The third season of the show needs her. We can’t let the company collapse. Don’t cause trouble for me – why are you even telling me this?”
Shang Liang couldn’t help but wonder if he owed Xie Shenci from a past life. He never wanted to know the company’s secrets, and now the psychological pressure had been transferred to him. He was left anxiously worrying about both the cash cow and the troublemaker, terrified that the leaves would fall and the roots would be poisoned.
“Precisely because I knew you’d react this way, I wanted to give you a heads-up,” Xie Shenci said, his eyes dark and his tone unhurried. “If I really wanted to cause trouble for you, I wouldn’t have waited until now.”
If he were truly irresponsible, he would have been straightforward with her long ago.
Hearing the seriousness in his tone, Shang Liang was momentarily stunned. “Are you being genuine?”
“Of course,” Xie Shenci replied calmly. “I never considered this before. It wasn’t until I met her that I started to think about it.”
Though he had never anticipated wanting a close relationship before, once those feelings began to sprout, he started carefully considering everything – about her, about them, and about the people around them. He didn’t want to recklessly destroy it all. Knowing how much she cherished her connections at Shanle, he felt it was even more crucial to proceed with caution, to wait until she had firmly established herself.
Now, she had grown capable of holding her own. Her strength was enough to withstand external doubts. She was no longer just “a signed actor at Shanle”; she had built a reputation under the name “Chu Duxiu,” much like Cheng Junhua once did, far surpassing other stand-up comedians.
Only then did he dare to voice the thoughts hidden deep in his heart.
“No, it’s still too risky. If things go wrong, the fallout would be ugly,” Shang Liang shook his head. “If you two were to split, even dividing shares could become messy, let alone the damage to the company if she, with her current influence, were to break ties with Shanle.”
It would be no less impactful than the finals incident, stirring up yet another storm.
Xie Shenci blinked. “So you also think she and I will get married?”
“…”
Instead of getting angry, Shang Liang laughed. “Bro, is that really the point here? Are you trying to piss me off!?”
Fuming, Shang Liang yanked open the trunk, tossed his luggage inside, and only calmed down after settling into the car, regaining his usual composure.
The car door clicked shut softly. Shang Liang, seated in the back, asked, “Are you two already together?”
Xie Shenci started the engine, his hands on the steering wheel. “Not officially confessed yet.”
“Oh, then it’s fine. Actually, there’s not that much pressure.” Shang Liang, who had been tense, instantly relaxed upon hearing this. He leaned back against the seat leisurely and said, “She might not even say yes to you. Maybe it’s all just in your head.”
Xie Shenci argued, “Impossible. We both know how the other feels…”
“Then why aren’t you two together yet?” Shang Liang added sharply, “Maybe she just sees you as a good friend- no, wait, as a nice guy.”
“…”
Xie Shenci suspected Shang Liang had snapped and was now turning dark to get back at him. He retorted, “Are you using reverse psychology on me?”
“I’m just analyzing this objectively. Distance creates beauty. You two get along well now, but if she gets to know you on a deeper level, she might realize you’re irresponsible and love shifting blame. Slowly, she’ll pull back to just being friends.”
Shang Liang shrugged. “Mainly, she’s not familiar with you yet. Once she finds out how boring you are, she might break things off. Don’t be too overconfident.”
Ideals are beautiful, but reality is harsh. Shang Liang felt it necessary to prepare his friend for the worst. After all, Xie Shenci had never been in a relationship before – who knew what his practical skills were like? There was no guarantee she could put up with him.
Xie Shenci questioned, “When have I ever been irresponsible?”
Shang Liang pointed out bluntly, “So you’re not denying the blame-shifting part.”
“It’s a strategic approach to company management.”
“What strategy? How come I’ve never heard of it?”
Xie Shenci said calmly, “Governing by non-interference, each fulfilling their role.”
As long as things got done, why bother asserting his presence? He wasn’t obsessed with authority.
Shang Liang was speechless.
A few seconds later, he said abruptly, “Actually, some things aren’t that hard to handle.”
“Like what?”
“For example, if you two get divorced, you could leave with nothing. That way, it wouldn’t affect our company.” Shang Liang suggested rationally. “After all, our company believes in governing by non-interference and each fulfilling their role.”
Xie Shenci: “?”
Several days later, Chu Duxiu and the others left Yancheng and continued their tour, moving from city to city. Everywhere they went, the atmosphere was electric.
Shanle Culture had absorbed many new actors through its training camps. Seizing the opportunity, they added two more classes in other locations, with both their live performances and training camps earning excellent reputations.
Due to the company’s geographical limitations, Shanle also supported numerous local clubs and established connections with theaters in other cities. China’s stand-up comedy scene had originally developed in a fragmented manner, with distinct circles in Yancheng, Haicheng, and Nancheng. Now, Shanle was bringing these diverse forces together. Having broken through with the second season of their show, they were drawing public attention to these scattered fragments.
These local clubs and companies might not be widely known, but that didn’t mean they were without merit – just like Nie Feng and others who hadn’t signed with Shanle but returned to Yancheng to run their own clubs. Some actors had appeared on the show but chose not to stay in Haicheng to develop their careers, instead returning to their hometowns to pursue stand-up comedy.
Though not employees of Shanle, they maintained ties with the company, occasionally collaborating on performances and sharing management insights, gradually nurturing the local stand-up comedy ecosystem.
While small companies had the potential to grow into larger ones and eventually compete with Shanle Culture, Xie Shenci and the team currently maintained a friendly stance. After all, there was already a more troublesome mad dog blocking their path – competitors could be people, but it was best if they weren’t biting dogs.
At the entrance of the local theater, Chu Duxiu and the others had just finished their performance and were planning to return to the hotel to rest when they spotted a massive billboard by the roadside.
Emblazoned on the sign were the flashy words of The Greatest Funmaker, striking at first glance with its dynamic and passionate design. The lineup of celebrity guests was extravagant, and ground promotions were everywhere, building momentum even before the show had aired.
Lu Yi knew the new show couldn’t match the influence of The Stand-Up King, so he leveraged his connections to invite big-name stars. Additionally, since Chengjing was determined to rival Lingguo, the budget was exceptionally generous, and the spending was on another level.
Wang Nali clicked her tongue. “It hasn’t even aired yet, and they’re already splurging on promotions like this?”
It was normal for shows to have pre-air hype, but none quite like The Greatest Funmaker, with its extravagant viral marketing.
“I heard they just finished recording the first episode and bought a hot search yesterday,” Scallion said, glancing cautiously at Chu Duxiu. “Some audience members leaked privately that your name came up during the recording.”
Chu Duxiu looked puzzled. “Why would they mention me?”
“This show poached a lot of stand-up comedians. Remember String Bean from back then?” Scallion rubbed his nose. “He went to record too. Nie Feng mentioned it to me the other day when we were chatting, saying it seemed like he was with Lu Yi’s company, but they’re not in touch anymore, so he wasn’t entirely sure.”
As the stand-up comedy scene flourished, the dynamics among actors had also shifted. Nie Feng and String Bean had long since fallen out. The gap between actors who had appeared on the show and those who hadn’t was widening, creating a psychological divide among them.
Back when no one was famous, how did you manage to rise to fame?
The issue isn’t scarcity but inequality.
Performers like Bei He and Lu Fan had higher integrity, while Cheng Junhua was a broad-minded senior. During recordings, they treated Chu Duxiu well and never undermined her.
Wang Nali and Scallion, though less famous, were newcomers in the same cohort as Chu Duxiu. Yet they never envied her, accepting the changes gracefully, and their relationships remained unchanged.
That said, Chu Duxiu’s rapid rise to fame within a year not only surpassed Cheng Junhua but also hinted at overshadowing his popularity. Her activities outside the show exploded in popularity, and her swift, almost terrifying growth left many green with envy.
It wasn’t just her talent they resented – it was also her commercial value. After all, audience appeal is often a mysterious alchemy.
No matter how many years an actor perseveres, if they aren’t liked, there’s little they can do. The reality is brutally disheartening.
While Shanle’s actors didn’t resent her, external actors were consumed by jealousy, and their routines inevitably touched on it.
Chu Duxiu was busy with her tour and seldom went online, so she was unaware of these discussions. Scallion, however, was an avid internet surfer who came across recording reports and subtly pieced things together.
Although the live audience had signed confidentiality agreements, some attendees of The Greatest Funmaker still leaked details, anonymously sharing their thoughts and evaluations of the new show online.
[The celebrity lineup is impressive, and the stage effects are amazing. Throwing money at it really works, but I didn’t like how they made fun of other performers, especially ones who aren’t even on this show. I was laughing earlier, but that suddenly killed the vibe.]
[Same here. The show was funny, but I didn’t like the performers – they gave off a weird vibe. When the other show uses inside jokes, it feels nice because they actually know each other. But this guy isn’t even familiar with her – what gives him the right to disrespect her like that?]
[Didn’t the other show’s tour also openly mock people? Why is it suddenly not okay when it’s done here? Don’t be hypocritical, little fairies!]
[Ugh, such a nasty vibe. Some toxic dude has entered the chat.]
[Spill the tea – who did they make fun of?]
[Who else? The traffic magnet of stand-up comedy, the queen who feeds the entire scene – Chu Duxiu.]
[I’m dying of laughter. I’m just here for the jokes, not the people, but even I know Chu Duxiu by now. She’s been mentioned from the second season to other shows – every stand-up comedian seems to talk about her. Is she some kind of joke-writing formula now?]
[Inside jokes (×) Chu Duxiu jokes (√)]
[Let’s be brutally honest: if they ever build a temple for stand-up comedy, they should enshrine her there. Whenever someone runs out of inspiration, they can just bow to her twice and suddenly know how to write jokes – just like visiting the Confucius Temple before the college entrance exams.]
Scallion, Cheng Junhua, and others had previously written jokes about Chu Duxiu in their routines. Now, The Greatest Funmaker was also targeting her, which naturally sparked widespread criticism from netizens.
For a while, everyone was watching the drama unfold, playing along with the memes online and poking fun at the trends within the stand-up comedy scene.
With countless posts circulating online, the three of them finished browsing and began discussing the situation.
Wang Nali said worriedly, “I didn’t expect their show’s quality to be quite decent.”
Chu Duxiu replied, “Well, they invested heavily, so they definitely have a team behind them – even writers helping with the material.”
Scallion cautiously observed her expression. “Are you okay?”
The Greatest Funmaker had repeatedly brought up Chu Duxiu during the recording, clearly not in a positive light. Though the exact content remained unknown, it was certain they had attempted to smear her.
Chu Duxiu said, “Of course. If netizens are saying they should bow to me, what more could I possibly complain about?”
“?”
