31: Chapter 31 Master Kong Braised Beef Noodles Suddenly Don't Smell Good Anymore

When Shen Jue's bus drove deep into the desert, Li Li was chewing his third lamb chop in the buffet restaurant on the twentieth floor of the Burj Al Arab.

The entire floor of the restaurant was empty.

Under wartime conditions, ninety percent of the guests had fled. The vast dining area was left with only the two of them, twelve crystal chandeliers, and an Indian waiter waiting to be summoned at any moment.

In this building, the influence of Prince Fahd was more effective than an air-raid siren. By the second day of the missile strikes, the kitchen at the Burj Al Arab was still serving meals as usual, and the head chef's stance was clear—war is war, but the lamb chops must not be overcooked.

Jiang Rumu sat opposite him, with four plates laid out before her—salmon sashimi, medium-rare steak, quinoa salad, and a serving of pistachio ice cream. Her knife and fork rose and fell at a leisurely pace, and her table manners were even more refined than the meal itself.

Just as Li Li stuffed a mouthful of hummus into his mouth, her phone vibrated.

A WeChat video call, and the caller ID showed—Xiao Juezi.

Jiang Rumu wiped her hands, answered, and propped the phone up on the table.

Shen Jue's face, starved for twenty-four hours, popped up. His lips were cracked, and his Korean-style comma bangs were matted by sweat, turning them straight into ellipses.

"Sister!! Are you okay!!"

"I'm fine, just eating."

The camera happened to be pointed directly at the four plates. The salmon was arranged neatly, the steak's cross-section glowed with an enticing pink hue, and a mint leaf was still stuck in the pistachio ice cream.

On the other end of the video call, it went instantly quiet.

A loud, irrepressible swallowing sound came through the screen.

Beside him, half of Cen Ye's face squeezed into the frame, holding a bowl of instant noodles. The six large characters "Master Kong Braised Beef Noodles" on the red and white bucket were strikingly prominent, and steam was rising in curling wisps.

His gaze lingered on the salmon on the screen for two seconds.

Then, he looked down at the shriveled noodle block and the few bits of dehydrated vegetables in his own bucket.

The plastic fork in his hand was thrown back onto the table with a "clack."

"... I'm not eating this anymore."

Shen Jue snatched the fork away: "Don't waste it."

While chewing the noodles in big mouthfuls, he reported indistinctly: "Sister, we aren't at the Burj Al Arab, and the Production Team isn't there either. We were all taken to a government evacuation hotel."

He turned his head to ask a question.

From off-screen, Cen Ye's lazy Sichuan-Chongqing accent drifted over: "Al Safa Evacuation Center, on the edge of the desert, over twenty kilometers away from you."

"Right, that's the one!" Shen Jue slurped a mouthful of soup. "The hotel says they won't send a car without government orders, and it's not safe outside, so they won't let us leave. The Production Team has been communicating with them for ages, but they absolutely refuse to budge."

Li Li put down the lamb rib in his hand and wiped his fingers with a napkin. He dragged his chair half a meter toward Jiang Rumu, letting himself enter the camera's view.

"Shen Jue."

"Brother Li!" Shen Jue's fork stopped by his mouth, a strand of noodles dangling in mid-air.

"What's the situation with the others?"

"Quite a few are clamoring to go back to the country. Yin Ruoying has been complaining since we left the bunker, saying she wants to terminate her contract and pay the penalty. Fang Ruowei and Wen Zhuotang are with her. Gu Zeyan wants to leave too."

"What about Qi Wanyin?"

"Sister Wanyin hasn't said a word, she's in her room alone."

Li Li took out his phone and quickly located the Al Safa Evacuation Center on the map. It was a desert road, twenty-three kilometers as the crow flies, with some sections marked in yellow due to repairs.

"Which room is the director in?"

Shen Jue was stunned: "Why are you asking that?"

"To come pick you all up."

On the screen, both faces froze simultaneously.

Even the silver hoop on Cen Ye's ear stopped swaying.

Two seconds later, he spoke first.

"A section of the road is broken."

"They're still fighting outside."

"I know." Li Li replied.

"You're coming alone?"

"Don't worry about it."

Another three seconds of silence.

Cen Ye's silver hoop began to sway again.

"114, Director Pei Zhao's room, turn left at the end of the first-floor hallway."

"Got it." Li Li stood up.

Jiang Rumu's knife and fork were still resting on the edge of her plate; she didn't look up.

"You're going?"

"I'm finding someone to go; going myself would be stupid. If the people disperse, the show falls apart too."

She put her fork down completely and watched his back as he walked toward the door.

"Your ex-girlfriend is still trending on the hot search. If you go out to pick people up now, the public opinion will shift again."

Li Li didn't stop walking.

"Then let it shift."

"What I mean is—" She paused, tapping her finger lightly on the table, "After they're brought back, who holds the control over the show depends on how you bring them back."

Li Li stopped and turned around.

Jiang Rumu was using a small spoon to scoop up the last bit of pistachio ice cream and popped it into her mouth.

"If a bus brings them back, they'll thank the Production Team. If a military vehicle brings them back, they'll thank the government."

She looked up and stared straight at him.

"If you handle it privately, they will only thank you."

Li Li looked at her for two seconds.

"Get there first; only then will I have bargaining chips."

He turned and took two steps, then stopped and looked back.

"Keep that steak for me."

---

Al Safa Evacuation Center, Room 114.

The door was left ajar, and the decibel level inside could be heard exploding out across the hallway.

Shen Jue hung up the video call, scraped the last bit of soup from the noodle bucket, and pushed the door open to enter.

A room full of people; the air was as taut as a bowstring.

Director Pei Zhao sat on the only office chair, his phone connected to a power bank, his face wearing that professional smile that had been welded on for twenty-four hours.

Yin Ruoying stood in the center of the room barefoot, two chips of paint missing from her bright red toenail polish.

"I'll say this one last time, when will the flight routes resume!"

Director Pei Zhao smiled and responded: "Ruoying, the runway isn't repaired yet—"

"What about land routes?"

"The highway is severed."

"Then should I swim back?"

Han Xubai, in the corner, pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses: "From the Persian Gulf to the South China Sea, it's 6,400 kilometers as the crow flies. Breaststroke would probably take—"

"If you calculate one more word, I'll snap your glasses!"

"Understood, this won't be included in the legal fees."

Fang Ruowei sat on the edge of the bed, gently smoothing things over: "Everyone, let's calm down, shall we? After all, the Production Team didn't want this to happen, right, Director Pei?"

Wen Zhuotang curled up on the cot in the corner, her fishbone braid half-undone, her almond eyes rimmed with red, saying nothing. Only occasionally, the angle at which she looked up would precisely meet the gaze of Old Zhou, who was carrying the camera at the door.

Gu Zeyan leaned against the window with his arms crossed, motionless, like a statue in power-saving mode.

Shen Jue stood at the door for a few seconds, taking a deep breath.

"Um..."

Everyone's gaze shot toward him in unison.

"Li Li said he's coming to pick us up."

One second. Two seconds.

Yin Ruoying was the first to scoff.

"Who?"

"Li Li. Jiang Rumu's partner, that non-celebrity."

Yin Ruoying tilted her head fifteen degrees, as if she had heard the funniest joke of the century.

"A non-celebrity, coming to pick us up, through twenty-plus kilometers of a war zone." She turned to Director Pei Zhao, "Is your casting criteria to prioritize people with oxygen-deprived brains?"

Fang Ruowei chimed in gently: "Xiao Juezi, Li Li is a nice guy, but this kind of thing still relies on official channels; individual ability always has its limits."

Gu Zeyan walked over, patted Shen Jue on the shoulder, his smile standard and his tone sincere: "Brother, I appreciate the sentiment, but one has to be realistic."

Shen Jue opened his mouth, but couldn't refute a single word.

Just then, Cen Ye leaned against the doorframe, a cigarette dangling from his mouth that hadn't been lit.

He didn't enter the room; he just took out his phone, screen facing outward, and thrust it directly in front of Yin Ruoying.

"Take a look."

"Look at what?"

"Li Li's TikTok profile."

On the screen, the follower count was jumping in real-time: 6.71 million... 6.72 million... 6.73 million...

Cen Ye's Sichuan-Chongqing accent was unhurried, each word landing like a small pebble on a dead-still surface of water.

"Yesterday—three hundred."

He pushed the phone forward another inch.

"Today—over 6.7 million."

The silver hoop on his ear swayed.

"He's a non-celebrity. What are you guys?"

In the room, there was a deathly silence.

The absurd mockery on Yin Ruoying's face froze, inch by inch, and then shattered.

Fang Ruowei lowered her head and quickly searched for Li Li's profile: 6.74 million. She subconsciously glanced at her own 1.6 million and silently locked her screen.

Gu Zeyan also swiped on his phone; his follower count was 3.4 million. After three years of debuting from a talent show, he had been surpassed by Li Li in a single night by double. He squeezed the AirPods around his neck, the plastic casing emitting a creaking sound under the strain.

Han Xubai had already finished looking through all the hot searches and clips; he pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, his fingers lingering on the bridge of his nose for an extra second.

"Interesting."

Wen Zhuotang in the corner saw it too, her fingers unconsciously winding the ribbon at the end of her braid, round and round.

Five minutes.

For a full five minutes, no one in the room spoke; the atmosphere was even heavier than it had been during the fifty minutes of arguing before.

Finally, Director Pei Zhao leaned back against the chair, twisting the red string bracelet on his wrist. The smile on his face shifted to a different gear—his teeth were showing, the kind of smile that sounded like the clicking of abacus beads.

Yin Ruoying was the first to move.

She glanced at her phone, then at Old Zhou's camera, and finally at Director Pei Zhao.

Connecting the three points, the calculation was complete.

As soon as she spoke, the air in the room twisted.

"Director Pei."

"Hmm?"

"Why haven't you started the live stream yet?" Yin Ruoying stood with her hands on her hips, sounding righteous, "The Dating Reality Show needs us to be on it, right?"

She scanned the room with her phoenix eyes.

"Sixty million people are online, the whole world is watching. If we don't get on—that non-celebrity is going to take all the traffic for himself."

"Are you all willing to let that happen?"

Shen Jue stood at the door and looked back at Cen Ye.

Cen Ye had the cigarette in his mouth, his thumb rubbing the silver hoop, his mouth curling upward in a mocking arc.

Shen Jue immediately took out his phone and sent a WeChat message to Li Li.

Seven characters.

"Brother Li, they want to continue."

---

In the hallway of the Burj Al Arab, Li Li's phone lit up.

He stared at those seven characters, his left wrist habitually turning.

Blue text appeared—

[New task detected: [Fish your teammates back].]

[Task objective: Bring the stranded Production Team members safely back to the Burj Al Arab and resume filming the Dating Reality Show.]

[System suggestion: Change the mode of transportation.]

[System addition: This is not a suggestion. I'm begging you.]

With a "ding," the elevator door opened.

Jiang Rumu walked out, carrying a packaged paper bag in her hand.

"Your steak."

She shoved the paper bag into his hand.

Li Li took it, pulled out his phone, flipped to the chat box with Fahd, and his thumb typed out a line of Arabic swiftly.

"Your Highness, I need to borrow something."

Jiang Rumu leaned over to glance at the screen: "You're borrowing a car from the Prince of Dubai?"

"Not just a car."

"What else are you borrowing?"

Li Li clicked send.

"People."

Almost simultaneously, Fahd's avatar lit up, showing as read.

A second later, a reply popped up.

It was a line of Arabic, very short.

Jiang Rumu didn't understand Arabic, but she saw the corner of Li Li's mouth, where a canine tooth usually well-hidden was now visible.

"What did he say?"

Li Li locked his screen and switched the paper bag containing the steak from his left hand to his right.

"He asked me."

"How many people?"