Chapter 30
A flood of newcomers poured into the livestream. Alen’s millions of male fans barged in, knives in hand, sat down looking utterly bewildered.
[No—wait, I’m straight. What am I even watching?]
[Who isn’t straight? I came for God Fei, and the thick-browed guy next to him turned out to be Alen. The two most important champions of my life are on a marriage reality show.]
[Laughed this morning at my sis’s idol retiring; got backstabbed by Alen at noon. Our Guo family really fell to the same man—heartbroken.jpg]
[I’m different. Since Lu Xiao announced his retirement, my girlfriend’s been in a bad mood. But after learning about my similar heartbreak, she started hugging and kissing me again.]
[I’m fine, but I have a friend who felt unwell and went to the hospital.]
[Sure, sure—“small reclusion in the city, great reclusion in the forest, ultimate reclusion in the entertainment industry.” The Asian champion Alen I searched for all over Asia turns out to be living on my phone’s trending searches every day.]
[You mixed into the entertainment industry without telling me—did you think I’d throw knives at a concert? smile.jpg]
[I’d rather get beaten up by you all. Taking off his own mask just to help his wife win—he loves her so much I’m crying.]
Watching the livestream’s popularity skyrocket, the director wished he could reach straight into the sponsor’s pockets and pull out more money.
We really should have negotiated the contract better—refund more or make up the difference less!
Seizing the moment, he said, “How do you prove you’re Alen? Like Wang Changyi—do you have photos?”
Lu Xiao replied coldly, “No. I’ve changed phones several times—who would still keep photos?”
[Wang Changyi felt that jab.]
Meng Xueyuan said, “I have some.”
All eyes turned to Meng Xueyuan. The director gestured for the cameraman to film his phone.
But Meng Xueyuan covered the screen. Standing off to the side, he flipped through it for a long time, finally finding the one photo he’d taken of a picture Lu Xiao kept on his bedside table.
In the photo, Lu Xiao was in racing gear, his face fully visible, holding a championship trophy and posing backstage with his team.
High-spirited, heroic in his youth.
Li Fei and Jiang Weina crowded over to look; the camera focused on the photo as well. Lu Xiao watched Meng Xueyuan with slightly darkened eyes for a moment, his hand hovering over Meng Xueyuan’s phone for a second before he finally let it fall.
After the shot, Meng Xueyuan quickly put his phone away.
The director asked Wang Changyi, “Any further objections?”
Wang Changyi stared at Lu Xiao in disbelief. He knew his own racing persona wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny—if Lu Xiao suggested an actual race, he’d be done for.
“No. Lu Xiao is better than me.”
The director announced, “This round’s winner is Meng Xueyuan. Wang Changyi—eliminated.”
Li Fei spoke up voluntarily, “No need to keep going! Three sets of bedding are enough for me.”
An esports champion versus a racing champion—they could’ve gone at it until dawn.
Jiang Weina, never one to shy away from drama, laughed. “Don’t stop—keep going! Let’s see what other alter egos of Lu Xiao Little Meng can expose, hahaha!”
Her husband said cheerfully, “Lu Xiao, you didn’t also compete in the Culinary Olympics, did you? Or the Pastry World Cup? Got photos?”
Wang Changyi’s expression soured. He’d overestimated himself and blown Lu Xiao’s Alen identity; now Jiang Weina’s husband was fantasizing about Lu Xiao entering the Pastry World Cup—was that a deliberate jab at Jiang Xunbai’s ‘great at baking’ claim? Why hadn’t anyone refuted it then?
Seeing Wang Changyi’s mood dip, Jiang Xunbai comforted him. “You remember so many of my strengths—so in my heart, you’re the most impressive.”
Wang Changyi’s face brightened. “How could I forget your strengths?”
Meng Xueyuan pressed his lips together and asked Lu Xiao softly, “Was I being too competitive?”
Lu Xiao said, “No. I’m the one with terminal top-obsession.”
Meng Xueyuan felt relieved.
The director announced the final results: Meng Xueyuan first, Li Fei second, Wang Changyi third.
Meng Xueyuan received four sets of bedding. He took the initiative to give one set to Teacher Zhang, hugged the remaining three, and waited for the director to announce dismissal.
The director said, “If you’re short on bedding, you can earn more through labor—collect trash along the shore. Three jin of trash for one set of bedding. Please wait a bit; we need to reshoot some footage for post-production.”
The guests sat on little stools to wait. Ouyang Lai pulled out a nail clipper from his pocket, grabbed Li Fei’s hand in front of him, and snip-snip clipped his nails.
Li Fei leaned bonelessly against Ouyang Lai’s left arm, like a cat having its nails trimmed by its owner.
Lu Xiao’s eyes went red with envy—this is what a real couple looks like. Way too intimate. He hadn’t even clipped his wife’s nails before.
Catching Lu Xiao’s odd look, Ouyang Lai explained, “In esports, nails even a millimeter too long or too short affect precise key presses. I always carry nail clippers and trim Li Fei’s whenever there’s time.”
Lu Xiao learned a new life tip: always carry what your wife needs—like nail clippers.
Trim regularly, and no fear of getting scratched at night.
After that, all the guests reshot a few scenes. Then the director announced dismissal: “Take your prizes back, get some rest, and then we’ll do indoor solo interviews. Our cameramen will come find you with questions.”
That’s it?
Before dispersing, Lu Xiao couldn’t help asking loudly, “Are there rewards for the solo interviews?”
Director: “No.”
Lu Xiao frowned. “Then when will you arrange tasks to get ingredients?”
Seeing Lu Xiao take the lead, everyone else revolted.
“Yeah, yeah—two days of lukewarm rewards. We’re by the sea—can we get a full seafood spread?”
“I’m starving—I’ve lost weight!”
Facing the predatory stares of the guests, the director held firm. “Our show is about truly challenging a 300-yuan budget. We’re serious about it.”
Meng Xueyuan tugged Lu Xiao’s wrist. “It’s okay. We have enough to eat.”
Lu Xiao kept a grim face—how was it enough? There wasn’t even abalone soup for lunch.
Meng Xueyuan forcibly pulled Lu Xiao home. “Come on, come on—it’s too sunny out here.”
On the other side, Wang Changyi also said indignantly, “Baby’s been wronged. I’ll definitely find a way to get you something delicious.”
Jiang Xunbai said, “Forget it. It’s the production team’s arrangement. Millet porridge is fine.”
…
Meng Xueyuan dragged Lu Xiao back home. Lu Xiao’s gaze dropped to the phone in Meng Xueyuan’s pocket.
His wife had photos of him on his phone; his wife had him in his heart.
Were there even more photos?
Meng Xueyuan had listed so many of his strengths today—so he was really that outstanding in his wife’s eyes? If he confessed now, would it succeed?
Lu Xiao resolved to define their relationship before his business trip—and to make it public, let the whole world know. Even if he retired, Meng Xueyuan would still be spoken for.
First, he’d test the waters.
Standing at the doorway, Lu Xiao grabbed Meng Xueyuan. “Nice weather. Let’s take a photo together here. My phone’s out of battery—use yours.”
Meng Xueyuan: “Oh, okay.”
He took out his phone and stood with Lu Xiao in front of the two-story house, snapping a selfie.
Lu Xiao seized the chance to pull Meng Xueyuan’s waist tight.
Coworker selfies at most involved an arm over the shoulder; holding the waist was rare.
Click.
After taking the photo, Meng Xueyuan said, “I’ll send you one.”
“Okay.” Lu Xiao nodded. Spending every day together lately, Meng Xueyuan had grown used to this ambiguous closeness with him—and didn’t mind being intimate in public.
Is this what they mean by boiling a frog in warm water? Aren’t we just one thin layer of paper away from it?
“Mr. Lu, please come with me for an interview.”
“Alright.”
Lu Xiao followed the cameraman to a separate small cabin. The theme of this episode was budgeting, so the director had the guests separately calculate their household expenses to see whether their numbers would match in the end, testing how well they understood their family finances.
Lu Xiao and Meng Xueyuan were a trial couple with no shared expenses. This round’s task was to estimate monthly spending, testing how compatible his consumption habits were with Meng Xueyuan’s.
Of course, in order not to traumatize the audience’s tender hearts, the show wouldn’t make the specific figures public. The two would enter their numbers separately, and only the percentage difference would be revealed.
Lu Xiao spoke frankly. “How am I supposed to estimate this? I can calculate what’s spent on me, but what’s spent on—”
“—hobbies doesn’t really have a fixed amount.”
The cameraman looked him in the eye. “What hobbies?”
Lu Xiao said, “A lifelong hobby.”
[Money spent on hobbies—isn’t that just money spent on yourself?]
[Unless your hobby is another person. Tsk.]
[Meng Xueyuan: You might as well just report my ID number.]
…
With Lu Xiao gone, Meng Xueyuan changed the bedding and, bored, opened Lu Xiao’s solo-fan forum.
It was bound to be lively today, with plenty of new fans pouring in.
Fans’ investigative abilities could reach the edge of the universe. They had swiftly gathered every photo and piece of news about Alen from the internet, compiling them into a dedicated thread. Some even closely studied the fingers, eyebrows, and forehead that Alen occasionally revealed, comparing them to Lu Xiao’s—identically handsome!
For once, no one was criticizing Meng Xueyuan. Instead, they crowned him a major contributor, at most joking that he’d sold out Lu Xiao’s secret identity—something everyone was happy to see.
Meng Xueyuan, who usually only came to post pictures, saved a lot of racing photos from the thread. Even Alen’s race car was examined by fans under a magnifying glass.
After looking for a while, Meng Xueyuan felt that some details looked very familiar.
He exited the image thread and saw several hot posts on the forum’s front page.
[@UltimateNightWatcher: If you like Lu Xiao, don’t make a sound.]
Main post: Don’t claim a fan identity—once you do, heartbreak is guaranteed. Better to stay a bystander and enjoy the chaos. Clown .jpg
Meng Xueyuan gave it a like.
[@LateNightSnackLover: What happened today suddenly enlightened me. Which circle is Lu Xiao entering next? As long as I have money, I can keep following him. It’s just a different way of stanning.]
Main post: Has anyone figured out which rich family Lu Xiao comes from? If he’s going into business, is there really zero information? I can buy his family’s stocks! It’s fine if they fleece me!
Meng Xueyuan gave it a dislike.
After thinking for a moment, he typed his first non-picture reply, “Stanning is spending money to buy happiness; buying stocks is investing with the expectation of profit. They’re fundamentally different. Blindly buying stocks isn’t recommended.”
After he replied, Lu Xiao happened to return.
“It’s your turn for the interview.”
Meng Xueyuan ran his fingers through his messy hair and was about to head out when Lu Xiao stopped him and combed it twice with a comb.
“All set.”
“Thanks.”
Meng Xueyuan went to the filming cabin. Faced with the same questions, he thought for a moment and realized that his monthly net income mostly went unspent.
Food, clothing, housing, and transportation were all sponsored by brands—and there was still plenty left over.
He answered honestly, “I hardly spend any money.”
[Because Lu Xiao spends money on you, right?]
[My bro has finally cleared himself of the ‘living off his partner’ suspicion before retiring.]
[Official confirmation that Lu Xiao spends money on Meng Xueyuan.]
After saying just that one sentence, Meng Xueyuan was released by the speechless cameraman.
Back home, he saw Lu Xiao bustling around, looking for something. “Do you need anything?”
“No.” Lu Xiao leaned against the wall, head down, repairing a rechargeable flashlight he’d found.
Meng Xueyuan asked, “Why are you fixing that?”
Lu Xiao replied, “In case of a power outage.”
“Oh.” Meng Xueyuan nodded. “The crew should have backup generators. The weather’s been clear and calm lately—blackouts are unlikely.”
“Yeah.” Lu Xiao said. “Just itchy hands, fixing it for fun.”
Meng Xueyuan didn’t doubt him. He squatted beside Lu Xiao, watching him work, serious like a little kid in school.
The corner of Lu Xiao’s mouth curved up. He pressed the flashlight switch; a powerful beam hit the opposite wall. “Done.”
“You’re amazing,” Meng Xueyuan said.
Lu Xiao tossed him the flashlight to play with. “I’ll go cook.”
The lunch menu was already set—no seafood. All Lu Xiao could add was a bowl of egg-drop soup.
In the afternoon, the director assigned another group task. The reward was a tandem bicycle, allowing them to ride along the seaside road and watch the sunset.
Lu Xiao’s disappointment at the reward was written all over his face, but Meng Xueyuan loved it.
On second thought, Lu Xiao figured that even if the food was meager, spiritual fulfillment mattered too. He’d never ridden a tandem bike with his wife before!
The sunset slowly but resolutely sank into the sea, the horizon shimmering with broken gold. The evening breeze was gentle, the waves unhurried.
With his long legs, Lu Xiao pedaled furiously, as if he were competing in some island-circuit cycling race.
“Hold on to me. Sit tight.”
Meng Xueyuan wrapped his arms around Lu Xiao’s waist. The rear pedals spun nonstop with the motion of the front ones, and a full loop around the small island would be over in no time.
“Slow down,” Meng Xueyuan said.
Lu Xiao instinctively ignored those two words—until Meng Xueyuan pinched his waist. “Slow down, or stop. Otherwise I’m getting off.”
“Oh.” Lu Xiao thought: did Ouyang Lai really carry nail clippers just for esports? Li Fei must pinch harder than Meng Xueyuan—pure experience talking.
After one full lap, they were starving. Back home, they simply cooked stir-fried cabbage, carrots with pork, and had millet porridge.
Meng Xueyuan slept very soundly that night, until noisy sounds came from outside. The cameraman kept knocking and shouting, “Mr. Meng, Mr. Meng! Please go stop Lu Xiao!” His tone was frantic.
Meng Xueyuan jolted awake. Seeing that Lu Xiao wasn’t beside him, he didn’t even bother putting on shoes, opening the door barefoot.
“What’s wrong with Lu Xiao?!”
The skinny cameraman said, “Lu Xiao wants to go beachcombing!”
Meng Xueyuan looked toward the doorway and saw Lu Xiao wearing ill-fitting rain boots, a bucket in his left hand with a long pair of tongs inside, and a flashlight in his right. He was wearing a completely done-with-it expression as the chubby cameraman stopped him.
Meng Xueyuan suddenly remembered—everything Lu Xiao had on him had been borrowed from a fisherman’s house during the day. When he’d asked about it earlier, Lu Xiao had stayed quiet and said nothing. So this was it: he’d been planning to go beachcombing alone in the middle of the night!
The chubby cameraman blocked him. “This isn’t in our schedule. Insurance doesn’t cover beachcombing. You absolutely can’t go.”
Lu Xiao explained patiently, “I’ve already checked the tides—it’s low tide now. I scouted the terrain during the day and contacted local fishermen to ask about safe spots for beachcombing. I won’t go into the water.”
Everything’s foolproof. Why can’t I dig up a little seafood for my wife?
[Oh no, our Brother Lu seems to have gone full love-brained.]
[Serves the production team right for being stingy—wife can’t get seafood, and the love brain is collapsing.]
[Where’s the guy who said he’d go through fire and water to get food for Jiang Baibai?]
[Reporting in: Wang someone is asleep.]
[Keyboard warriors only—people who truly love their partner don’t make a sound.]
The director was called over. One look at Lu Xiao’s gear made his head hurt. It was like a disciplinarian catching a problem student who insisted on climbing the wall to sneak into an internet café—except this troublemaker belonged to a board member’s family. He opened his mouth. “Lu Xiao, you—”
Meng Xueyuan, barefoot, dashed forward in one step and crashed straight into Lu Xiao’s arms, hugging him tightly.
“You’re not allowed to go.”
The director closed his mouth. Thank goodness, thank goodness—this troublemaker has a little boyfriend.
