“What betrothal letter…” Chu Duxiu blurted out in panic. “That’s a cat-adoption deed.”
Xie Shenci fixed his gaze on her and shot back, “Then why haven’t you adopted yet?”
“?”
In the corner, Xie Shenci stood against the wall in a dark coat, staring at her with a look of confrontation, as if he’d been waiting for this all along.
Chu Duxiu was caught between anger and laughter. “This counts as a scam.”
All she wanted was to buy a bottle of water. Who would’ve thought he’d turn the tables on her? It wasn’t her picking up a stray cat at all – it was the cat aggressively knocking on her door.
Xie Shenci admitted frankly, “Yes, it’s a scam.”
Chu Duxiu was briefly at a loss for words. Then she shook the wallet in her hand. “You really mean for me to keep this?”
Xie Shenci nodded.
“Fine, then I’ll keep it.” She slipped it into her pocket and threatened, “Let’s see what you do when you need something from me. Wait till your business trips – see how you manage without an ID.”
He could talk big now, but once he tried boarding a plane, he’d learn just how miserable it was to be without identification.
Let’s see if that won’t cure his bad habits.
Xie Shenci heard her cold-hearted declaration, yet instead of feeling discouraged, he gave her a long, quiet look and commented matter-of-factly, “You have a lot of strange hobbies.”
“What?”
“If it’s not humanizing into a cat, then it’s hold one’s jaw…” He trailed off. “And then there’s that whole ‘beg you’ thing.”
Truly bizarre, through and through.
“…”
Chu Duxiu pulled a bottle of water from the vending machine, clutching the wallet as she stormed off. Before leaving, she warned, “Don’t you dare tarnish my image in your head.”
She was not some kind of pervert.
At the end of the corridor, she turned a corner into the performers’ passageway, where the crowd thinned.
Chu Duxiu quickened her pace. Glancing back furtively to make sure Xie Shenci wasn’t following, she slipped the wallet out in secret. It was slim and light. Rather than holding cash, it was clearly meant for documents – at least from what she’d seen earlier, there were more IDs than bills inside.
Should she take another look?
After all, he had boasted so shamelessly, claiming she didn’t need to return it.
Driven by burning curiosity, Chu Duxiu went ahead and opened the wallet, examining it closely.
Its design was simple, and the inside wasn’t complicated either: crisp but rarely used banknotes, neatly arranged IDs of various kinds, and little else. Just like his WeChat Moments – plain and transparent, you could see everything at a glance.
She was about to close it when she noticed a slim zipper pocket inside, hidden beneath the cash and easy to overlook. Tentatively, she pulled it open.
Out came a signed photo, scrawled with three characters: Chu Duxiu – in none other than her own childish handwriting.
Chu Duxiu: “…”
She shoved it back in at once, inwardly fuming – what was he, some crazed fanboy? Who keeps that kind of nonsense in their wallet?
In the corridor, Xie Shenci watched Chu Duxiu flee before finally strolling off himself, turning into the studio hall.
As soon as Shang Liang saw him enter, he frowned. “Wipe that look off your face.”
“What look?”
“Your mouth’s about to curl up to the heavens.”
But Xie Shenci made no effort to suppress the curve of his lips. In an even tone, he asked, “We’re a stand-up comedy company. What, your life doesn’t allow for happiness?”
“The essence of comedy is tragedy,” Shang Liang quipped mercilessly. “If I see you people being happy, I just can’t laugh.”
Inside the studio hall, the stage was crowded with stagehands checking the backdrop for the finals. Shang Xiaomei was leading the directors, holding a small prep meeting in the otherwise empty audience seats.
The performers hadn’t arrived yet; for now, the place was filled only with backstage staff.
“There’s something I want to discuss with you,” Shang Liang said suddenly. “Someone wants to come watch the finals live. I figure once you finish your work that day, you could keep them company for the show. I’ll handle coordination with Lingguo.”
Xie Shenci asked in puzzlement, “Who wants to come?”
“You two can talk directly.” Shang Liang pulled up a chat thread and turned the screen toward Xie Shenci, signaling him to read it.
Xie Shenci froze after skimming the messages.
A moment later, he replied, “Alright.”
The Greatest Funmaker suddenly ended in mid-air, with no final rankings ever announced, and the public’s attention quickly shifted to another show.
Some worried that without a rival, The Stand-Up King would see its quality decline from episode to episode. But Chu Duxiu and the production team soon put those doubts to rest. Fresh material poured in from new performers, while seasoned writers polished the scripts with their expertise, ensuring that every episode produced memorable routines.
After the noisy wave of speculation subsided, the great ship sailed on steadily, untouched by outside distractions, all the way to the grand finale of its third season.
On the day of the finals, the studio filled early with eager, expectant audience members. Backstage, the performers crowded into the dressing room, brimming with laughter and energy.
Lu Fan looked around at the bustling crowd and said warmly, “Hard to believe we’ve already reached season three.”
“I think we need some kind of pep-rally ritual!” Bei He called out loudly. “Let’s have Ms. Chu lead us with some guidance!”
Everyone turned their heads at once, voices rising in a chorus of shouts.
“Calling on King Chu-”
“Ms. Chu Duxiu!”
Chu Duxiu and Wang Nali were huddled in a corner. Chu Duxiu had her eyes closed, letting her friend touch up her makeup. When she heard someone calling her name, she blinked in surprise. “Who’s calling me?”
“Don’t move.” Wang Nali caught her in place, patiently applying strokes with a small brush. “Almost done – just a little more.”
Before long, all the performers had finished their makeup and gathered outside the spacious dressing area. They chatted and laughed, surrounded by staff, looking like a lively procession.
Scallion asked, “So what kind of ritual are we doing?”
Facing the group, Chu Duxiu hesitantly suggested, “How about a circle?”
Bei He chimed in, playing along: “Everyone gathers in a ring, right?”
The finalists quickly formed a circle, each reaching out their hand to stack together – one hand, two hands, three hands – until countless hands overlapped like the petals of a blooming flower.
They exchanged smiles, bound together by laughter, and shouted their rallying cry in unison, as if to shake the skies.
“Stand-Up King – Finals, let’s go!”
“Welcome to the grand finale of Season Three of The Stand-Up King!”
On stage, Su Xinyi and the others beamed at the audience, while the crowd responded with cheerful shouts, their excitement brimming as they awaited the final performances.
The contestants entered to loud cheers and quickly took their seats in the competitors’ section.
Chu Duxiu and the others sat in the front row, frequently caught on camera. Their faces flashed across the giant screen, each appearance sparking fresh waves of excitement from the audience.
[Great Chu rising, Stand-Up Queen!]
[Nali, charge! I want to see a woman dominate the top three-]
[Bei He, the seal is lifted – time to let them feel the full force of the Demon King!]
Night had long since fallen, but inside the venue the atmosphere was electric.
The joy of the grand finale made it feel like a sleepless night – not only filling the hall with bursts of laughter, but also sending the livestream barrage into a frenzy, all waiting for the climax of Season Three.
One by one, the contestants took the stage, delivering brilliant performances as they vied for the final crown.
Amid the noise, Xie Shenci finished arranging seats for the Lingguo executives, and soon after went to greet another arrival. Facing a figure in sportswear and a mask, he took the initiative to shake hands. “You’re here.”
“Mm. Didn’t expect it to be this lively.” The other person returned the handshake, casting a glance around the hall before sighing. “It’s no small feat that you’ve managed to put on a third season.”
“It’s mostly thanks to the performers.” Xie Shenci pressed his lips into a polite smile. “I didn’t expect you’d still be willing to come. I thought you’d resent me for a long time.”
“It’s not resentment. It’s just… when I see you all, I don’t know what to say. But really, there’s no need to force conversation – just watching the show together works too.”
The man removed his mask, revealing a familiar face – it was Cheng Junhua, whom they hadn’t seen in a long time. His tone was gentle and affable as he said, “So I thick-skinnedly asked you for a ticket to the finals. After all, stand-up comedy is still best experienced live.”
Just a few days ago, Shang Liang had said that he’d suddenly gotten in touch with Cheng Junhua. The latter, abandoning his long silence, had asked to attend the finale – leaving everyone astonished.
Since the “black light incident,” Cheng Junhua had vanished from sight, even stopping all domestic performances. Many lamented that he had missed the boom in stand-up comedy; after holding on for so many years, he had put his career on pause after season two, losing both post-show exposure and countless commercial opportunities.
For an entire year, no one had seen him. No matter how much people speculated online, he never once appeared in public.
Xie Shenci led the way up front, guiding Cheng Junhua through the staff passage. “What have you been doing lately? Resting at home all this time?” he asked.
Cheng Junhua replied, “Not at all. I just finished a show and rushed back here.”
“A show?” Xie Shenci echoed.
“Surprised? I’ve been performing overseas. Went to see my teacher too – sort of picking it up again.” His tone was light. “Of course, it wasn’t at big venues. I performed wearing a mask, talking while slowly adjusting my state of mind. It brought back a lot of memories from when I first started out.”
After the second season finale, Cheng Junhua’s mindset had collapsed. For a long time, he couldn’t set foot on stage, let alone write new material. He had even considered giving up altogether. Later, at his family’s urging, he went abroad to recuperate and paid a visit to his mentor, Hong Liwen.
When his mentor heard what Cheng Junhua had gone through, he suggested channeling the pain into his work, dissolving the shadows and healing his heart little by little.
At first, the performances didn’t go well. The moment Cheng Junhua got on stage, he would draw a blank – he couldn’t bring himself to talk about the finale, nor could he truly express himself. Deep down, he had never let it go.
Later, he tried hiding his name and face, performing casually at clubs like a rookie just starting out in stand-up. No one knew who he was, no one knew what he’d been through. In a foreign land, speaking to strangers, he felt no pressure to worry about whether the jokes landed – and little by little, the knots in his heart began to loosen.
Stand-up comedy isn’t only about comforting others; more often, it’s about comforting yourself. Only when you’ve made peace with yourself can you express humor freely.
In this way, Cheng Junhua gradually rediscovered the joy of it, growing again like a newcomer and regaining his ease on stage. If he hadn’t heard about Lu Yi’s scandal, he might not have returned to the country so soon – he had planned to keep studying the craft a while longer.
Xie Shenci’s expression showed understanding. “Shedding the name, starting over.”
“Exactly. My opponent was too strong – I’m not ready to admit defeat yet.” Cheng Junhua gave a light laugh. “I have to sharpen my skills and develop something new.”
Just then, the host’s voice rang through the venue: “Please welcome our next performer – Chu Duxiu!”
In an instant, a tidal wave of cheers surged up, crashing through the entire hall like rolling breakers.
The laughter reps and the live audience burst into applause, their eyes fixed on the figure running toward the stage as the rousing music played.
Xie Shenci and Cheng Junhua both looked up. The young woman stepped into the spotlight, her expression radiant, brighter than the stage lights themselves, gilded in a glow of gold and carrying an effortless poise.
The next moment, her familiar voice rang out: “Hello everyone, I’m Chu Duxiu.”
Cheng Junhua murmured, “She’s here.”
Xie Shenci’s gaze softened, lingering on her as well.
Season Three of The Stand-Up King came to a triumphant close, with Chu Duxiu taking first place by a landslide of votes, leaving no doubt about the result.
“Congratulations to Chu Duxiu, champion of Season Three of The Stand-Up King!”
As the celebratory music swelled, Chu Duxiu lifted the trophy from the podium – just then a loud boom rang out. Fireworks burst inside the hall, and a shower of glittering silver confetti rained down from above. Performers from both sides rushed onto the stage, quickly surrounding her in a jubilant throng.
Wang Nali and Scallion were the first to reach her, hurrying to her side with joyous congratulations.
Cradling her trophy, Chu Duxiu reunited with friends and colleagues.
Everyone celebrated her long-awaited victory, chanting her name in unison. Their voices rose and fell like crashing waves against the shore.
“Chu Duxiu! Chu Duxiu! Chu Duxiu!”
Joy, laughter, passion, friendship – all of it sparked in the roar of the crowd.
The performers lifted Chu Duxiu high; tonight was a reunion night for stand-up comedy.
Amid the thunderous cheers, some audience members outside the stage caught something unusual.
[Wait – I think I just saw the big shot??]
[No way.]
[Seriously! A couple minutes ago, when the camera panned across the seats, I swear I saw someone who looked exactly like Cheng Junhua! I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me!]
[Did anyone screen-record that? If I’m not mistaken, he was standing next to the head of Shanle Culture…]
[Hold on – that was the Shanle boss? This just shattered all my stereotypes about comedy guys??]
It didn’t take long before both “Chu Duxiu Wins the Championship” and “Cheng Junhua Appears in Public” shot to the top of the trending searches, setting off a huge wave of buzz.
Lifted high by the crowd, Chu Duxiu was nearly shaken dizzy; when her feet finally touched the ground, her legs felt weak. Only after the award ceremony did she hear the astonishing news. She froze. “Mr. Cheng was here?”
It was truly unexpected – no one had known in advance that Cheng Junhua would show up at the finals, appearing in the audience.
“I just heard people talking about it, but we’re not sure,” Wang Nali said, looking baffled. “They said he came with Mr. Xie, but no one actually saw it.”
Scallion glanced around. “Where is Mr. Xie, anyway?”
As contestants, Wang Nali and the others had their own performances that night, so naturally they hadn’t been paying attention to what was happening outside.
A thought stirred in Chu Duxiu’s mind. Clutching her trophy, she hurried through the crowd, asking quickly, “If Mr. Xie isn’t here, then is Mr. Shang?”
A moment later, Chu Duxiu spotted the busy Shang Liang in the lobby and asked about the whereabouts of Xie Shenci and Cheng Junhua.
“Mr. Cheng was worried it would get too late to leave, so he left right after the performances,” Shang Liang admitted to her. “Mr. Xie escorted him out – probably through the parking lot exit. But they’ve been gone for a while, you likely won’t catch up.”
After the heavy blow Cheng Junhua suffered in season two, those at Shanle still carried a sense of guilt toward him, so naturally they didn’t try too hard to persuade him to stay.
Respecting his wishes, Xie Shenci had waited until all the contestants finished performing, then arranged for Cheng Junhua to slip out first, not wanting to stir up an even bigger commotion at the venue.
As Cheng Junhua himself had joked: he was already certain who the champion would be. As long as the show didn’t completely implode, there was no need for him to watch the award ceremony.
He had actually left early.
Hearing this, Chu Duxiu felt a twinge of disappointment – but she didn’t give up. She decided to make a run for it.
In the parking garage, Chu Duxiu stepped out of the elevator to find the place deserted – but Xie Shenci’s car was still there. After double-checking the license plate, she finally let out a sigh of relief and dashed over.
She hadn’t expected to catch them.
The roar of the studio had faded, leaving the area hushed and still. She ran up to the car, and before she could even reach for the door, the window slowly rolled down, revealing Xie Shenci’s face.
He took in the sight of Chu Duxiu – rushing over in a hurry, hair tousled from running, clutching the championship trophy in her arms, clearly flustered. Guessing her intent, he said calmly, “Mr. Cheng has already gone. I just dropped him off.”
Sure enough, the car was empty except for him.
“Ah-” Chu Duxiu let out a long, disappointed groan, her brows drooping.
She didn’t even know what she would’ve said if she had seen him, only that she shouldn’t have missed the chance – at the very least, she wanted to meet him face-to-face.
It didn’t have to be a deep conversation. Just seeing each other, making sure both were well – like greeting a friend from far away.
Noticing her disappointment, Xie Shenci took out his phone and offered, “If you really want to reach him, you could give him a call. He shouldn’t have boarded yet, so he can probably still pick up.”
Chu Duxiu pulled open the passenger door, slipped into the seat, and quickly took his phone. Tentatively, she dialed the number.
The parking garage was like a quiet island, a stark contrast to the bustle upstairs. Only the long, droning ring tone could be heard through the receiver.
“Beep-”
“Beep-”
One after another, with no one picking up, each tone tested her patience.
Holding the phone, Chu Duxiu paused for a few seconds before hesitantly asking, “Mr. Cheng didn’t block you, did he?”
Maybe the moment he saw Xie Shenci’s number, he decided not to answer at all.
Xie Shenci: “?”
Xie Shenci said, “Impossible. We just said our goodbyes – and talked the whole way.”
Chu Duxiu: “Exactly. Said goodbye, and then blocked you.”
“…”
The monotonous ring tone repeated several times before finally changing.
“Hello?”
A familiar male voice came through – still soft and unhurried, though the background was noisy, with the sound of airport announcements faintly audible.
Chu Duxiu had been stubbornly trying to reach him, but now that the call had actually gone through, she was struck speechless. It felt like a dream: after all the storms and upheaval, here they were, calm at last, with time to talk – yet she didn’t know where to begin.
Fortunately, Cheng Junhua reacted first.
“Congratulations, Rookie Queen.” Realizing from the silence who it must be, his words carried a smile. “No, that’s not right – now you’re the champion.”
“Why did you leave so quickly?” Hearing his familiar, kind tone, Chu Duxiu’s nose stung and she spoke softly. “I didn’t even get the chance to see you.”
“No choice. Any later and I’d have missed my flight. Honestly, this trip was a last-minute impulse – to come back for the finals. My schedule ended up being really tight.”
“You’re flying abroad?”
“Yes. I’ve got more shows ahead. They’re not large-scale, but I don’t want to be late. After all, I’m holding myself to a rookie’s standards – I can’t go around acting like some veteran.” His voice was unhurried, almost leisurely.
Listening to him speak so calmly, all the gloom from their farewell last season seemed to lift, and Chu Duxiu felt her heart relax. “Will you come back to China after your shows?”
Even if they hadn’t met this time, there would always be chances in the future.
“Of course. Once you’ve gained more experience, let’s have another match.”
Cheng Junhua laughed. “Next time, not just a five-minute set – we’ll go head-to-head with full-length specials, a complete stand-up show.”
Perhaps both of them carried regrets – like Cheng Junhua making the arduous trip just to see the finals, and Chu Duxiu chasing frantically after his trail – all for the sake of an unfinished promise.
Though their personalities weren’t alike, they shared the same passion for stand-up comedy. Neither was content to stop here; both longed to climb higher.
Chu Duxiu froze for a moment, feeling hot blood surge through her chest. It was just like that day outside the restaurant, when they’d said goodbye and he had told her, “Next time, I’ll write a five-minute set just for you.”
Life was as if they were meeting for the first time – nothing had changed.
Faced with his challenge, she answered eagerly, “Alright. Next time, I’ll write a full-length special too.”
The five-minute contest was long behind them; now they had endless time ahead, a race carried out through full-length stand-up specials infused with their own philosophies of life.
After a few more words of courtesy, the call finally ended.
Sitting beside her, Xie Shenci studied her expression and raised a brow. “Feeling better now?”
That phone call had dissolved the distance between them – and even fired up her ambition.
Chu Duxiu nodded. “Mm. I feel like pulling an all-nighter to write a set, then flying overseas tomorrow to perform my special.”
The show had just wrapped up, yet her blood was boiling, her sights already set on a new goal.
“…Sorry,” Xie Shenci said dryly. “Company visas don’t process that fast.”
“What did you talk about with Mr. Cheng? You said you two even chatted the whole way?” Chu Duxiu asked curiously. “Was it about stand-up comedy?”
Thinking back to Xie Shenci’s words, she found it surprising. With both of them being so reserved – one expressionless, the other socially anxious – she couldn’t imagine which of them would even lead the conversation.
“No.” He shook his head. “Our tastes in comedy don’t align. We’ve never really been able to discuss the creative side.”
“Then what did you talk about?”
“About our lives,” Xie Shenci replied seriously. “He’s more traditional, and he gave me some advice. I thought it made sense.”
Their personalities were so different that they ended up talking about other things instead.
“What kind of advice?”
Xie Shenci glanced at her, then suddenly opened the car door and got out, heading to the trunk to retrieve something.
Hearing the sound, Chu Duxiu looked on in surprise. When he returned, there was something new in his hands.
A delicate white rose, beaded with dewdrops, nestled at the center of a bouquet surrounded by other blossoms, wrapped in blue ribbon and thin paper, tied into a neat, beautiful bow.
A bouquet of roses and jasmine – not as fiery as red roses, but with a fragrance that slowly spread, subtle and lingering, like his very presence.
“No matter how much unspoken understanding there is, there should still be a ritual. That way, when we look back someday, it’ll be a happy memory.”
Chu Duxiu froze. Realization dawned, and her cheeks gradually flushed.
Xie Shenci held out the white rose to her. He seemed just as nervous, his lashes trembling slightly as he lowered his gaze. “It should be with flowers, on a special day – with a proper confession.”
