6: Chapter 6: Ordinary People Have No Status, Only Workstations

Shen Jue turned his head. His whole body launched like a spring.

"Sister?!"

The 1.87-meter-tall man darted forward three steps, his lower leg knocked against the leg of the coffee table, he stumbled but steadied himself, the excitement on his face was enough to burn out the central air conditioning for the entire floor.

"Sister! You came too?!"

He opened his arms and lunged over. He was cautious yet couldn't hold back; the scale of his movement was even more exaggerated than when he was acting explosively on set.

Cen Ye paused his game and straightened up from the corner sofa.

Li Li stood where he was, unmoving.

The young woman's shoulders shrank slightly at the shout; she reached out to pat Shen Jue on the back and stepped back half a pace.

"Could you keep it down?"

"Hehehe." Shen Jue scratched his head. "I'm used to it. I played your younger brother in the last drama and called you that for three months; I can't break the habit."

He turned around and waved enthusiastically at Li Li and Cen Ye—the scale of the wave was enough to direct airplanes landing on an airport runway.

"Let me introduce you! Jiang Rumu! My sister! Not by blood, but in the drama!"

The young woman took off her baseball cap.

Her black hair cascaded down, the ends slightly curled inward, resting on her shoulders. She pulled her mask down to her chin.

The noise in the VIP Hall dropped a notch.

It wasn't that anyone was deliberately quiet; it was just a natural occurrence—the editor in the corner paused their typing, cameraman Lao Zhou adjusted the focus twice as fast, and even Shen Jue's mouth stayed shut for a full two seconds.

Li Li took a glance.

The half-face he saw under the cap brim in the corridor had given him a prediction.

The prediction was wrong.

The features might just be considered pretty on a screen, but standing three meters away, the person was three-dimensional. No makeup, no filters; the essence supported by the bone structure beneath the skin couldn't be fully captured by a lens.

He lowered his head and zipped up his suitcase.

Then, a very pragmatic thought popped into his head.

Pretty.

Can it be eaten as a meal?

No.

Alright, move on.

Cen Ye walked up generously and reached out his hand.

"Cen Ye, I sing."

Jiang Rumu reached out and shook it.

"I know you. I've heard your song 'Mirage'."

Cen Ye raised an eyebrow.

"Did you really listen to it, or are you just being polite?"

"The third line of the chorus lyrics is written backwards; 'Mirage' should be before 'Tower'."

Cen Ye retracted his hand and gave a thumbs up.

"Alright, you really have listened to it."

The four of them sat in the sofa area.

A U-shaped sofa surrounded a low coffee table, soft lights overhead, and two fixed cameras in the corners had their red lights on. The wall-mounted screen displayed the real-time TikTok live stream.

After Jiang Rumu walked in, the number of online viewers took off.

120,000. 350,000. 870,000. 1.2 million.

The bullet comments weren't scrolling; they were cascading.

[Holy shit holy shit holy shit Jiang Rumu!!!!]

[My Sister Mu is on a Dating Reality Show?? What kind of god-tier lineup is this]

[Wait, what kind of background does this show have to be able to invite her]

[Mom, I want to watch this show for a hundred years]

Shen Jue naturally took over the warm-up. No one assigned him, but his mouth was naturally restless, and having worked with Jiang Rumu before, the least awkward choice for the scene was to let him go first.

He leaned toward the wall-mounted screen and read the bullet comments.

"This one—'Sister Mu looks so pretty today', indeed, my sister has always been pretty."

"This one—'Shen Jue, sit further away, don't block my view of Sister Mu'..."

He moved half a step to the side with a wronged look.

"This one—'Who is that guy with the buzz cut and tattoos, he's so handsome', that's Cen Ye, he sings. Don't ask me, I also think he's handsome."

Cen Ye sat with his legs crossed, making a finger gun gesture with one hand.

As Shen Jue read, he leaned closer to the screen.

"'Let that amateur introduce himself, shall we?'"

He turned his head.

"Brother Li, why don't you introduce yourself? What kind of status do you have?"

The VIP Hall went quiet for a beat. The fixed camera red lights were on, and over 1.2 million people were staring at the screen.

Li Li sat in the corner of the U-shaped sofa, his left hand resting on the armrest.

"A pure amateur, no status."

He paused.

"I even just quit my job yesterday, I don't even have a workstation anymore."

Shen Jue's expression froze, his mouth open, bouncing back and forth between "what should I say in response" and "how do I even respond to this".

Cen Ye snorted through his nose.

The bullet comments exploded:

[Hahahaha no status, only a workstation]

[He doesn't even have a workstation anymore, this guy is alright]

[LMAO this amateur has something going for him]

[So who is he exactly, does anyone know him]

Li Li didn't say anything more. Name, age, three sentences and done.

No talent show, no life story, no "please take care of me".

A habit formed from working seventeen jobs in his past life—any self-introduction longer than thirty seconds was just a waste of both parties' time.

Just as Shen Jue was about to smooth things over, the door to the VIP Hall opened again. Two people walked in, one after the other.

The one in front—gold-rimmed glasses, side-parted hair, shirt sleeves rolled up to the forearms. Upon entering, he scanned the room, completing an assessment of the relationships between everyone in the room within three seconds. Han Xubai.

The one behind—1.83 meters tall, his first action upon entering was to wave at the fixed camera. The arc of the wave, the breadth of the smile, the focal point of his gaze—the three-piece set was seamlessly coordinated, precise enough to apply for a patent. Gu Zeyan.

Han Xubai walked over and shook hands with Shen Jue.

"Han Xubai, lawyer, also make short videos, please take care of me."

He spoke quickly, every word hitting the beat, packing a full three seconds of information. He turned to Cen Ye.

"Teacher Cen, long time no see, I've had your song 'Mirage' on repeat."

Cen Ye lifted the hand holding his cigarette butt.

"You're the second person today to mention that song to me."

Han Xubai pushed up his glasses.

"That means our tastes align."

Li Li glanced at Han Xubai. This guy had been in the room for thirty seconds, shook hands twice, complimented people twice, and every sentence hit the other person's most comfortable spot.

At the client meetings of the translation company in his past life, you could sit three people like this at one table.

Gu Zeyan didn't exchange pleasantries with any of the male guests.

He bypassed Han Xubai and quickly scanned the sofa area. There were six empty seats in the sofa area.

He skipped the two closest to the door, skipped the one next to Shen Jue, and sat directly on Jiang Rumu's left.

"Sister Mu, what a coincidence, I didn't expect to run into you here."

His upper body leaned forward slightly, the distance perfectly gauged—not overstepping, but close enough.

"I didn't get a chance to greet you at the last awards ceremony; I've always regretted that."

Li Li took an extra look at the route he took to choose his seat.

Six choices, he circled most of the sofa area.

Is this what you call a coincidence?

Jiang Rumu turned her head.

"Which time?"

Gu Zeyan's smile didn't change.

"Last December, Golden Kite Awards."

"I didn't go to the Golden Kite Awards." Jiang Rumu's tone was the same as announcing a flight delay. "You remembered wrong."

Gu Zeyan's right index finger tapped on his knee.

Shen Jue opened his mouth nearby, then closed it, shrinking an inch into the sofa.

Cen Ye didn't make a sound, but his sitting posture shifted in a new direction—toward this side.

It was quiet for two seconds. The bullet comments on the wall-mounted screen were still running wild.

The inside of Li Li's left wrist felt hot. A line of small blue text floated up, visible only to him.

[Female guest "Jiang Rumu" information has been recorded.]

[TikTok follower count: 32.17 million.]

[Task adaptation level: ??? (Surprise blind box)]

[System suggestion: Host, go for it.]

32.17 million.

The highest status in the room, a surprise blind box.

Li Li looked up and glanced at the seat Gu Zeyan had taken—to Jiang Rumu's left, zero distance. He glanced at the wall-mounted screen again.

The number of online viewers jumped past 1.5 million. In the bullet comments, a line of large golden text scrolled across the center of the screen—[Gu Zeyan × Jiang Rumu! I'm shipping it!!!]

The blue text on his left wrist was still glowing.

The system said, go for it.

The top idol from a talent show was already sitting next to the target, his posture was preset, his smile was rehearsed, and he didn't even withdraw it when called out.

And he was an amateur with no status, no workstation, and who was even missing a wheel on his suitcase.

The door to the VIP Hall opened again. The sound of high heels clicking on the marble, one by one, the rhythm was slow, every step carrying a clear intent.

Everyone turned their heads. A woman stood at the door. Black suit skirt, sharply tailored. The ends of her Hong Kong-style big curls were dyed a dark cherry red.

On her right index finger, the bright red nail polish was brighter than the red light on the camera. She scanned the sofa area. She didn't greet anyone. She walked straight toward—the single sofa in the very center. Sat down. Crossed her legs.

"Why is everyone so quiet?" The voice wasn't loud, but it drowned out the sound of the air conditioning vents. "Waiting for me?"