“Everyone has a bit of negative energy sometimes. I know you don’t mind — I only dared to speak so freely because I see you as one of my own,” Bei He explained. “If it were some other contestant who tends to overthink, I definitely wouldn’t say these things.”
Chu Duxiu exclaimed, “Ah, the emotional card — now you’re playing the emotional card!”
“Well, you can only play that card if there’s real rapport,” Bei He replied casually. “If you think I’m annoying, I’ll take the hint and leave right away — wouldn’t even be able to sit at the table.”
Chu Duxiu paused, surprised. “Don’t say that, what do you mean ‘annoying’…”
She had always been sensitive to certain words. Hearing him speak so self-deprecatingly, she immediately cut him off, her face momentarily hesitant.
“What’s the big deal? I know some people don’t like my personality, but it doesn’t matter — I don’t care.”
Bei He noticed the slight change in her expression and couldn’t help but chuckle. “I could tell just by looking at you — you haven’t been ‘beaten down’ yet. You still want to protect everyone’s dignity, want everyone around to be happy. I used to be like that too, felt this sense of responsibility — like I couldn’t let the atmosphere go cold, couldn’t let others feel uncomfortable during a conversation.”
He seemed to recall something, and his tone dimmed. “But sometimes, you just end up unhappy. No matter how cheerful or hard you try, no matter how well you manage the mood, someone will still criticize you, curse at you. And you don’t even know what you did wrong — maybe there was nothing wrong at all, yet in the end, it’s still unpleasant.”
Chu Duxiu was taken aback.
Though their personalities were quite different, perhaps there were shared experiences or struggles.
Bei He was always the one to keep the atmosphere lively during events, while Chu Duxiu couldn’t stand to see others embarrassed — both played the role of using humor as a social lubricant. They avoided certain topics with banter, and gradually became skilled at tossing and catching punchlines.
Bei He said seriously, “You need to be mentally prepared — once the semi-themed round airs, there’s going to be no shortage of debate online. Even if you lose by just two votes, people will still have things to say about you. I’m speaking from experience.”
Chu Duxiu’s showdown with Cheng Junhua was bound to draw attention once it aired — and with that would come intense controversy. Online commentary is a double-edged sword: it can inspire actors creatively, but it can also easily destroy them.
Chu Duxiu asked in confusion, “Because of the competition results?”
Bei He nodded. “Before, you were just a regular person, so it didn’t matter. But now, once the show airs, everything you say and do will be judged. You’ll have to learn how to protect your emotions — constantly watching others’ reactions will become exhausting. Of course, that’s also your strength. Your writing comes from empathy — I get that, and I know it’s hard to change.”
“But a lot of people just can’t handle that kind of pressure. In the first season, many contestants were only doing stand-up for fun. Once they really stood under the spotlight, it didn’t take long before they broke down — they couldn’t write anything anymore.”
He recalled the past with a touch of melancholy. “No matter what they said, they’d get attacked. Everything was criticized and picked apart. Fewer and fewer people stuck it out. Lu Fan and I are considered the ones with stronger mindsets — we can still get on stage and haven’t fully switched to just being writers.”
Most stand-up comedians start out of passion — many even perform as a side gig. They expose themselves on stage, and while they receive laughter and applause, there’s also an unavoidable risk of getting hurt.
“The company provides mental health counsellors, and some performers protect themselves by limiting social interactions in their personal lives. People in other professions often don’t care much about emotions — they can do their jobs by just going through the motions. But for stand-up comedians, emotions are precious. If you lose them, you can’t write material — you can’t even make a living.”
That was what Bei He was worried about.
Chu Duxiu was a promising talent, but she had been creating with ease so far and hadn’t yet felt the pressure. Once the show airs and her fame grows, more people will start judging her — and that carefree joy she once had might vanish.
“You and Ms. Lu got criticized too?” Chu Duxiu asked doubtfully. “I only ever saw that a lot of people like you two.”
“That’s because you didn’t witness the bloodbath of the first season’s finale — probably watched our show later, off-peak?” Bei He said helplessly. “Back then, the internet went crazy with hate. People said we were at each other’s throats, couldn’t stand each other. If I so much as glanced at her during filming, they said I was rolling my eyes. If she made a joke at me, they said she was being passive-aggressive.”
He let out a long sigh. “And in reality? We were pulling all-nighters together every day, rushing to finish scripts, placing bets on who’d have a mental breakdown first — basically waiting to see who got depressed first.”
Chu Duxiu’s expression turned a little odd. She muttered, “With that kind of dark humor, no wonder netizens suspected you two didn’t get along.”
Now that was some hardcore revolutionary camaraderie.
“I have a feeling you’ll have to face all this sooner or later. Your performance level is high — people won’t overlook you. So I’m giving you an early warning,”
Bei He said lazily, “The world is a big place. In school, everyone’s obsessed with comparing grades, ranking first and second. But society isn’t like that. Winning doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve truly won, and losing doesn’t always mean failure. Take things lightly — being the champion isn’t that big of a deal.”
Chu Duxiu winced, “I get the logic, but coming from last season’s champion, that just sounds a bit…”
A little too humblebraggy?
“That’s why you’d better listen carefully to what I’m about to say,” Bei He said mysteriously. “Being the champion isn’t the most important thing. Do you know what is?”
Chu Duxiu asked, “What is?”
“Finding like-minded companions,” he said earnestly. “Especially joining a good company — you won’t even need to go looking for a great team, the company will have it all ready for you. Like the industry leader, Shanle!”
“???”
Chu Duxiu was speechless. “Did you really just shove an ad into a heartfelt pep talk?!”
Was this the aftereffect of doing too many sponsored gigs?
Bei He didn’t just sneak ads into his on-stage material — now he was even dropping product placements into casual conversation off-stage.
Bei He enthusiastically invited, “Seriously, join us. I know other companies might reach out to you too, but we’re genuinely committed to doing stand-up comedy. Don’t misunderstand like some big shots do — thinking we’re just about making a TV show. The show is just a traffic driver — the company actually has a much broader plan.”
“Plan?”
“Yeah, for example, Lu Fan is in charge of teaching and translating course materials. You’ve probably attended Shanle’s training camp, right? We’ve been cultivating new stand-up comedians and are working on building a full, well-structured curriculum.”
Chu Duxiu nodded. “Ms. Lu’s classes are really good.”
“She’s great at that — it’s her original field,” Bei He said. “I’m mainly in charge of the Wenxiao theatre — contacting clubs, managing performer relationships. We’re gradually organizing shows in different cities. On the show you only get five minutes, but in the theatre, you can do a full set.”
“Of course, the prerequisite is having an audience — that’s why we need the show, to draw them in.”
“That all sounds impressive,” Chu Duxiu replied numbly. “But I really didn’t expect the one aggressively trying to recruit me would be you, the self-proclaimed slacker. Is this part of your planned misdirection too?”
She was starting to feel baffled by Shanle’s company culture — senior managers constantly sending memes, middle managers obsessed with existential crises, and a ‘slacker’ veteran who acted like both HR and a multi-level marketing recruiter. No wonder it’s a comedy company — the whole place reeked of punchlines.
“No way, it can’t just be me. Didn’t Mr. Xie mention anything?” Bei He slapped his forehead. “Did Mr. Shang come with you? He didn’t try every possible way to convince you? That’s not like him at all — he should have had you signed long ago.”
“…Mr. Shang ran into some unexpected trouble.”
Chu Duxiu briefly described the strange incident when she accidentally caught the CEO loudly scheming, and Mr. Shang awkwardly slipped away.
After hearing the whole story, Bei He burst out laughing, barely able to hide his schadenfreude. “Mr. Shang got his comeuppance too? Can I buy the rights to that story from you?”
Bei He and Shang Liang didn’t have any deep grudges, just some minor disagreements and occasional mutual dislike. Hearing about the other’s embarrassment naturally made him gleeful.
He winked and bargained, “I want to turn it into a joke for the annual party. Since it’s an inside joke, you can charge me less.”
“Then you won’t come to work next year, right?” Chu Duxiu flatly refused. “No way. What if I still have to deal with Mr. Shang later?”
Besides, she didn’t want to push the thin-skinned Mr. Shang into a corner — there weren’t many sane people left in the company anyway.
“In that case, just hang in there a little longer — the profit share can definitely be higher,” Bei He clicked his tongue. “As long as you’re willing to sign, negotiating the share depends on your own skills. Every performer is different. I won’t interfere — it’s not my department.”
With so many people in the company and varying levels of talent, the treatment naturally differed.
Being a fellow performer, Bei He wouldn’t blindly lowball Chu Duxiu’s price — everyone knew that having money was the key motivation.
“I can only say this: life is tiring no matter what you do. Even if you truly join the company and devote yourself fully to stand-up comedy, there will definitely be tiring moments — just like how I feel now,” Bei He said. “But if you do what you love, and have friends you can be honest with, life won’t be too bitter at least.”
“You can live a tiring life, but don’t live a bitter one — that’s the real drag.”
Chu Duxiu, unusually serious, didn’t hear him joke this time. After a long moment of thought, she softly responded with a quiet “Mm.”
Outside the recording studio, Chu Duxiu and Bei He had just finished filming. Xie Shenci had also wrapped up his tasks elsewhere, and they happened to meet at the entrance to discuss the next steps.
The sun had completely set, with only a faint glow lingering on the horizon — the rest was shrouded in dusky night. The warm yellow streetlights had flickered on, casting light on the parked cars, making them stand out clearly outside the studio.
From a distance, Bei He spotted his car and quickly said his goodbyes to Chu Duxiu. He called out a greeting to Xie Shenci as well, “Boss, I won’t be sticking around for that dinner tonight! I’m too tired — heading straight back to the city to crash!”
Xie Shenci replied, “Alright. I’ve looked over the theatre proposal — you can work on it after the competition, no rush.”
The two had always interacted openly — straightforward in their words and actions. Though they were superior and subordinate, they were also friends. Joking around never got in the way of getting things done.
“Cool, I’ll head off then.” Bei He waved to Chu Duxiu. “Eat more for me, would you? If you manage to bankrupt the company with food, I won’t have to work anymore!”
Chu Duxiu said weakly, “Weren’t you the one who used to say, ‘If eating two extra dishes bankrupts the company, that just proves stand-up comedy still isn’t a viable career’?”
And now he expected her to eat the company into the ground? That was giving her way too much credit.
A moment later, Bei He left, leaving just the two of them at the entrance.
“What do you feel like eating tonight?” Xie Shenci asked. “Shang Liang made a reservation at a Western restaurant. We could also go for Chinese, but either way we’ll need to take a ride — they’re both a bit far from the hotel.”
The studio was in the suburbs, with few upscale restaurants nearby — a car ride was necessary to reach any decent place.
“Ah.” Faced with the two options, Chu Duxiu instantly felt overwhelmed. She hesitated. “Mr. Xie, is there… a fusion option between the two?”
Xie Shenci looked at her, waiting for her to finish.
She braced herself and said, “…Like fast food or something, something that blends the essence of both.”
Chu Duxiu admitted she wasn’t the type to appreciate fine dining. Going to upscale restaurants with her sister once in a while was fine, but after a long, busy day, fiddling with knives and forks just didn’t bring joy.
Xie Shenci had more or less expected this. He asked, “Want to get back and rest early?”
Chu Duxiu nodded.
“Alright, then let’s head straight back,” Xie Shenci said without objection. He glanced down at his phone, then suddenly seemed to recall something. Hesitating slightly, he asked tentatively, “Or… is there something else you’d rather eat?”
A moment later, not far from the hotel, a small street lit up brightly. Countless street vendors arrived on tricycles, setting up a simple yet bustling night food market.
The smell of grilled squid and garlic oysters wafted through the hot air, while crispy chicken cartilage and stinky tofu sizzled in bubbling oil. A roadside stall selling spicy hotpot skewers let off billowing white steam, enveloping diners in a mist that made the place feel almost like a fairyland on earth.
It was the brightest spot in the suburban night, filled with busy vendors and hungry passersby. With their cheap yet delicious snacks, they helped ease the fatigue and hunger of the day.
As soon as Chu Duxiu got out of the car, she was completely swept away.
She sent a WeChat message to Wang Nali, along with a photo of the food street, asking if there was anything she wanted. Wang Nali, stuck in the hotel revising her script, howled with envy and rattled off a whole list of requests.
“Perfect. We’ll do one round first to see what’s on offer, then decide what to get — that way we won’t get full too early,” Chu Duxiu said calmly, strategizing. “We’ll eat some on the spot and pack the rest to go. That way, we can try everything.”
Xie Shenci saw her practically glowing with joy and asked in surprise, “This happy?”
He’d only casually suggested a street food run after finding out she wasn’t into Western food — and she’d gotten so excited, she could barely sit still in the car.
“A little trash like me only feels joy when eating trash food,” she said gleefully as she strolled along. “This meal alone is enough to make my mom want to beat me for three days!”
“…”
The two of them strolled through the lively, smoke-filled street, occasionally sampling snacks and gradually opening up in conversation.
Chu Duxiu said animatedly, “You might not believe this, but Bei He invited me to sign with the company in such a passionate way — he’s basically a model employee! His laid-back slacker persona from the show has totally collapsed. Mr. Xie, you really ought to give him a promotion and a raise!”
She genuinely hadn’t expected Bei He to be so earnest today.
“He just slacks off now and then to avoid burning himself out. When it comes to important matters, he’s pretty serious,” Xie Shenci replied. “He really enjoys that feeling of drifting in the background, only to suddenly make a splash when no one expects it.”
Chu Duxiu mused, “Ah, I see. We actually had a long chat just now — turns out we’ve gone through some similar things. Our revolutionary camaraderie has deepened.”
Upon hearing that, Xie Shenci glanced at her and said, “Bei He is still a bit different from you.”
“How so?”
“He needs to hear laughter to feel secure — that’s why he’s always trying to lighten the mood, even in everyday life. He’s actually more fragile than he seems,” Xie Shenci replied. “You, on the other hand, aren’t as sensitive to external reactions. You’re more focused on expressing yourself, passionate about sharing your feelings. Whether people laugh or not doesn’t matter as much to you, so your mindset is a bit healthier.”
Bei He’s early attempts to make people laugh carried a hint of people-pleasing. Over time, he adjusted and learned to protect himself.
Chu Duxiu’s humor, by contrast, felt more like a natural urge to share — she was noticeably more open-minded than Bei He. Her sister was outstanding and often praised in comparison, but Chu Duxiu still maintained a strong bond with her, which showed she was much more resilient than she might seem — not the type to be easily swayed by others’ opinions.
“How do you know that?” Chu Duxiu exclaimed. “How do you know everything?!”
She herself had sensed that she was a bit different from Bei He — but his advice came from a good place, and of course, she gratefully accepted it with a smile.
But what surprised her was that Xie Shenci, usually so quiet, would observe people with such sensitivity and even make such accurate assessments — it was quite unexpected.
“You can tell just from the way you’ve been on this trip,” Xie Shenci said, seeing how bright and animated she looked. His tone softened as he added gently, “Even if I don’t say much, you’re still happily chatting away. You’re not forcing a reaction — you’re genuinely enjoying the act of expressing yourself.”
“Are you low-key calling me talkative?” Chu Duxiu widened her eyes. “Are you saying I didn’t give you a chance to express yourself, didn’t let you happily chat?”
Xie Shenci: “?”
Chu Duxiu looked remorseful and said woefully, “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have stopped you from expressing yourself — I should’ve given you the chance to tell some jokes.”
“Thank you, but no need…” He drew in a quick breath and hurriedly said, “Just listening to you express yourself already makes me happy.”
His words came so naturally that Chu Duxiu was slightly moved. Her heart skipped half a beat before she brushed off the strange feeling.
“Liar. Fraud,” she accused. “Even Bei He encouraged me to sign a contract, but you’ve never brought it up. Clearly, you don’t think much of my sense of humor.”
The business team had pre-booked dinner, probably to discuss signing her, but Mr. Xie had turned it down again — and still hadn’t brought it up.
In truth, Chu Duxiu didn’t mind others trying to persuade her. As Bei He said, even playing the emotional card requires real emotion — otherwise, you won’t even get a seat at the table.
She was just curious why Xie Shenci hadn’t brought it up, especially when they were closer.
Back when he encouraged her to perform stand-up, he had quietly done so much behind the scenes. But now, with the competition nearing its end, he hadn’t once mentioned signing her — which felt highly unusual.
Xie Shenci’s eyes were dark as he shot her a sideways glance, his expression tinged with grievance. “You clearly know that’s not true, yet you still say things like that on purpose.”
How could he not appreciate her humour?
If he didn’t, he wouldn’t keep chasing after her for new jokes.
What she said was practically an attack on his heart.
Chu Duxiu shamelessly feigned ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Xie Shenci pressed his lips together, seemingly weighing his words. After a few seconds, his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he explained, “I just hoped… that some things wouldn’t need to be said to be understood. Like how good humor doesn’t need explanation — it’s simply felt, naturally.”
Perhaps true to his name (Shenci, meaning “cautious words”), he couldn’t fully let go, always afraid of burdening others — careful in both speech and action.
Just like how he’d pored over countless books on comedy, but when it came to real life, he couldn’t bring himself to tell a single joke he had crafted in his head.
Amid the dazzling city lights and the bustling, noisy crowds, the two were surrounded by the dust and din of the mortal world. Yet in all the commotion, they felt a rare sense of peace and ease. Their way of getting along had always been casual, to the point of seeming instinctively in tune.
Even with the clamor all around, Chu Duxiu, watching Xie Shenci, could still hear his low, gentle voice clearly — every word distinct, as if the noise had fallen away.
“When things become a struggle, they start to put pressure on the other person,” he said, eyes lowered, lashes trembling slightly. “That easy, mutual understanding disappears. Whether it’s about signing a contract… or anything else.”
