10: Chapter 10 Two-Way Selection!

Director Pei Zhao's bright red fingernails pinched the corner of the first card.

Flip.

The marker handwriting was bold—three characters: Jiang Rumu.

He held the card up and waved it at everyone.

"First one, male guest, Gu Zeyan. He chose—Jiang Rumu."

A few claps of applause followed. Shen Jue took the lead, his clapping force calibrated to the "polite but not enthusiastic" setting. Han Xubai clapped twice. Cen Ye crossed his arms and didn't move.

A wave of comments flooded the screen.

[Ahhhhhh Zeyan chose Sister Mu!!!]

[Expected, right? He sat next to her as soon as he came in.]

[Heh, just another performative choice, the traffic code.]

Director Pei Zhao turned to Gu Zeyan.

"Care to explain?"

Gu Zeyan leaned forward, his right hand resting on his knee.

"Just an immediate connection, I guess."

Director Pei Zhao waited for two seconds.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

He paused for a beat.

"Some feelings don't need an explanation."

Li Li rubbed his thumb over his wrist bone.

At the translation company's annual meeting, the client representative had said the original version— "Some collaborations don't need a reason."

Translated, that means: the reason doesn't sound good, so it's better to act profound.

Jiang Rumu stared at the tarmac outside the floor-to-ceiling window the entire time. She didn't turn her head, didn't nod, didn't shake her head.

From head to toe, she radiated an indifference that said "What does this have to do with me?"

Gu Zeyan's fans in the comments were getting anxious.

[Sister Mu, at least give some reaction!!]

[LMAO, is he choosing someone or confessing to the air?]

Director Pei Zhao didn't dwell on this pair and placed his bright red fingernails on the second card.

Flip.

"Female guest, Yin Ruoying—Gu Zeyan."

Yin Ruoying crossed her legs and swept a glance at Gu Zeyan with her phoenix eyes.

"Can't help it, I've seen him dance. Long legs, clean movements."

Her tassel earrings swung in a half-circle.

"I'm a practical person; I choose what looks good."

The third card.

"Female guest, Wen Ditang—Gu Zeyan."

Wen Ditang curled up in the corner, her fishtail braid resting on her shoulder, light blue ribbons dangling.

"I... I watched that episode of his talent show, and I just thought he was so charming..."

Her voice was small, and her fingers were tugging at the strap of her canvas bag.

She was so incredibly shy.

Li Li glanced at her. The person who had scanned all four camera angles before entering the door was now acting like a middle school student giving their first speech on stage.

Fine. Professional.

"Both female guests chose Zeyan—do you want to give them a hug?"

Gu Zeyan stood up and walked to Yin Ruoying first, a standard half-hug, proper distance, perfect smile, and the tassel earrings brushed against his shoulder.

Then he walked to Wen Ditang—when Wen Ditang stood up, her canvas bag almost slipped off, so he reached out to steady it, and the tips of Wen Ditang's ears turned visibly red.

The comments flooded in.

[Wen Ditang's ears turning red is so real.]

[These three have so much love!]

In the top right corner of the wall-mounted screen, the number of online viewers jumped. 2.2 million.

The fourth card.

"Male guest, Shen Jue—Jiang Rumu."

Shen Jue made a pained expression and raised his hands above his head.

"Let me explain! It's not that kind of 'choice'—I don't know anyone else! Sister Mu is the only person I've worked with before, so I'm choosing someone I'm familiar with as a safety net."

The comments half-believed him.

[Probably arranged by the company, stop pretending.]

[Little Jue, your acting skills really aren't very good.]

Jiang Rumu was still looking out the window. A tug was pushing a white airliner on the tarmac, and the reflection from the wing hit her, making her squint.

Director Pei Zhao didn't give Shen Jue much time.

The fifth card.

"Female guest, Qi Wanyin—Cen Ye."

Shen Jue's mouth opened into an O shape.

Han Xubai's hand, which had been spinning a pen, froze.

Qi Wanyin leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, her plain silver ring turning half a circle in the light.

Director Pei Zhao smiled.

"Sister Yin, care to explain?"

"The harmony progression in the third section of the chorus in his song 'Mirage', the flat sixth to flat seventh progression."

Qi Wanyin said slowly and deliberately.

"It's not common in independent music. It's worth getting to know the person who writes things like this."

Cen Ye snorted from his nose, his canine tooth showing. He didn't speak, just lifted the hand that had a cigarette butt tucked behind his ear.

Director Pei Zhao took the opportunity to flip the next card.

"Male guest, Cen Ye—Yin Ruoying."

"I often come across her while scrolling through short dramas, so she's a familiar face. She's the second most familiar person I know."

Yin Ruoying raised an eyebrow.

"Who's the first?"

"Myself."

A row of laughter exploded in the comments.

Director Pei Zhao quickly flipped two cards.

"Female guest Fang Ruowei—Shen Jue."

"Brother Jue is good-looking, I'm very direct!"

Fang Ruowei clasped her hands together, her smile beaming.

"Male guest Han Xubai—Qi Wanyin."

Han Xubai delivered his polite smile as usual.

"Sister Yin's songs kept me company through the three hundred nights of studying for the bar exam. Choosing her is a personal preference, but also out of respect."

Qi Wanyin turned her head.

"What score did you get on the bar exam?"

"370."

"Not bad."

Two words. One word more than what she gave Cen Ye, but lacking the weight of a "long time no see."

Two cards remained on the coffee table.

One male guest. One female guest.

Director Pei Zhao's bright red fingernails rested on the second to last card.

The VIP Hall went quiet.

The comments on the wall-mounted screen actually slowed down—when two million people held their breath at the same time, their fingers forgot to type.

Director Pei Zhao pinched the card.

Flip.

"Male guest, Li Li."

He held the card up, facing everyone.

Jiang Rumu.

The three characters were placed right in the center of the white card, the strokes neat, horizontal and vertical.

The air in the VIP Hall froze for a beat.

Director Pei Zhao turned to Li Li.

"Care to explain?"

Li Li leaned against the sofa armrest, his thumb resting on his wrist bone.

"She is very beautiful."

He paused.

"And I've chatted with her a couple of times, so I'm relatively more familiar with her."

That was it.

No profundity about immediate connection, no embellishment about stage charisma, no sentimentality about "keeping me company for three hundred nights."

She is very beautiful. Chatted a couple of times. More familiar.

Three reasons, concise enough to fit into a single text message without needing a second line.

The comments were silent for two seconds, then split into two rivers.

[Beautiful? Just beautiful? Amateur, have some ambition, okay? Hahahaha]

[An amateur choosing a top celebrity with 30 million fans, are you serious?]

[But he spoke very sincerely, at least he didn't make up some flowery reason.]

["She is very beautiful"—what a simple, crushing blow.]

The face beneath Shen Jue's comma-shaped bangs experienced a small civil war.

Cen Ye took the cigarette butt from his ear and held it in his hand.

Gu Zeyan's smile remained as usual. But he leaned back about two centimeters against the chair, a small movement that the cameras couldn't capture.

Yin Ruoying swept a glance at Li Li with her phoenix eyes— "This guy has guts."

On the coffee table.

The last card.

Director Pei Zhao's fingertips rested on it.

"The last card. Female guest—"

His bright red fingernails pinched the corner.

Flip.

"Jiang Rumu."

The front of the card faced up.

Two characters.

Li Li.

The VIP Hall exploded.

Not the adjective "exploded"—it was the physical impact of Shen Jue springing up from the sofa and hitting his calf on the coffee table leg for the third time. It was Han Xubai's hand, which had been adjusting his glasses, freezing at the edge of the frame. It was the half-second of blankness when the cigarette butt in Cen Ye's hand dropped onto the sofa cushion and he picked it back up.

The wall-mounted screen's comments were no longer a waterfall.

They were a flood.

[??????????]

[Mutual selection!!! Mutual selection!!!!]

[My eyes aren't deceiving me, right? Jiang Rumu wrote Li Li???]

[A top celebrity with 30 million fans chose an amateur, what kind of script is this!!]

[Ahhhhhh I'm obsessed, this pair started from moving the luggage.]

The number of online viewers jumped. 2.3 million. 2.5 million.

It was still rising.

Director Pei Zhao unhurriedly placed the card on the coffee table and turned to Jiang Rumu.

"Rumu, care to explain your reason?"

Jiang Rumu withdrew her gaze from outside the window.

She tilted her head slightly and glanced at Li Li.

Then she turned back, facing Director Pei Zhao.

"He helped me."

Director Pei Zhao waited.

"The wheel of my suitcase broke in the hallway, and my things fell all over the floor."

Jiang Rumu's voice was very flat, the spacing between each word just right.

"No one helped."

The three words landed, and Shen Jue's back shrank. Gu Zeyan's smile didn't change, but his sitting posture adjusted back by an angle.

"He helped me pick up my things and carried the 30-jin suitcase without wheels down the entire hallway."

She paused.

"He thought I was a normal person, and I thought he was a staff member. We both mistook each other."

The VIP Hall was quiet enough to hear the hum of the wall-mounted screen's cooling fan.

"But he still helped."

Yin Ruoying's tassel earrings weren't swinging. Fang Ruowei's smile was frozen on her face. Wen Ditang kept her head down, her fishtail braid hanging in front of her shoulder, her fingers gripping the canvas bag strap until her knuckles turned white.

Qi Wanyin turned half her body from the floor-to-ceiling window, the light on her plain silver ring stopping between her fingers.

Jiang Rumu looked at Director Pei Zhao.

"He is an amateur, has no team, no resources, and will be at a disadvantage on a show like this."

She paused for a beat.

"He helped me. I remember that."

She stopped talking.

Her gaze drifted back outside the window.

A white waterfall of comments washed over the entire wall-mounted screen, but the VIP Hall became even quieter.

A kind of silence that follows being struck by the truth.

Li Li sat to the side, his thumb rubbing over his wrist bone.

The inside of his left wrist felt slightly hot, and a line of blue text jumped out from under his sleeve—

[Main Mission: Form a team with the target female guest—Completed.]

[Rewards being calculated...]

[Please prepare yourself, Host.]

Prepare for what?

He didn't have time to think it over.

Shen Jue had already sprung up from the sofa. The 1.87-meter-tall guy spread his arms wide, not even bothering to fix his comma-shaped bangs poking into his eyes, his entire being entering a state of no return.

He gripped the corner of the sofa cushion, let go, then gripped it again.

He turned to Cen Ye.

"I couldn't help it, I said it out loud."

Cen Ye grabbed a cushion.

Too late.

"This is a mutual attraction!!!"

The cushion hit the back of his head.

Shen Jue didn't care at all.

A line of large golden text ran across the comments—

[The Luggage Moving CP is locked!!! Don't even think about breaking them up for the rest of your life!!!]

Li Li didn't look at the comments.

He turned his head and glanced at Jiang Rumu.

Jiang Rumu also turned her head.

Eye contact. A fraction of a second.

Her shoulders relaxed. It was different from the way she relaxed in the hallway after walking that stretch with the broken-wheeled suitcase and saying "thank you." That time it was politeness. This time it was—letting go.

Both of them turned back at the same time. One stared at the channel logo in the bottom left corner of the wall-mounted screen, the other stared at the tarmac outside the window.

Director Pei Zhao stood by the coffee table, his bright red fingernails tapping the tabletop.

"Good. The pair with a mutual selection—Li Li, Jiang Rumu, you are directly teamed up."

"The rest of you—"

He smiled.

"We'll see when we get to Dubai."

Yin Ruoying's phoenix eyes narrowed. Her tassel earrings swung in a very short, sharp arc—that was not a signal of "admitting defeat and exiting."

Director Pei Zhao clapped his hands.

"Now, please make your final preparations. Return to the VIP Hall at 11 o'clock to collect your tickets. We board at 12 o'clock sharp."

"Flying to Dubai."

Li Li stood up and pulled his sleeve.

A line of blue text jumped out on his left wrist again—

[Friendly reminder: Host, your flight takeoff countdown is 20 hours.]

[Destination weather: Sunny, 32°C.]

[Additionally—]

The blue text flashed twice, and a final line appeared. The font size was a circle larger than before.

[Wish you a pleasant journey.]

[Sincerely.]

[...Just kidding. I suggest the Host buy insurance now. Not joking.]

Li Li stared at that last line for two seconds.

The blue light on his wrist went out.

He looked up. Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, that white airliner on the tarmac had been pushed to the end of the runway, its tail livery clearly visible under the sunlight.

Fly Emirates.

Ala Country Airlines.

At the very bottom of the wall-mounted screen, an inconspicuous white comment was pushed up, instantly drowned out by the pink and golden text.

[Wait, did they just say Dubai? Isn't the Middle East a bit... lately?]

No one noticed.