Chapter 61 – Extra: Have One and See?
“Every year in July and August, what controls the persistent high temperatures in southern China is—”
“The westward extension and northward lift of the subtropical high-pressure belt.”
“Today is September 21. The next typhoon will be named—”
“Tian-tu.”
The program on preventing meteorological disasters was called China Meteorology Conference. As soon as the show began, there was a rapid-fire Q&A segment. None of the contestants were slacking off—just like on a poetry competition show where no one doesn’t know how to recite poems. For Meng Xueyuan to be standing here meant official recognition of his abilities.
Before this, Meng Xueyuan had never really had the chance to use his actual major in the entertainment industry. Even the director had been a little uneasy. But after seeing his performance in the first episode, the director decisively gave him more speaking tasks in the second.
After the show aired, many meteorology students went online to “claim kinship,” calling Meng Xueyuan “Senior Meng.” After all, who hadn’t fantasized in school about meeting a cultured, refined senior?
Netizens also enthusiastically dug up and discussed the geography question from Meng Xueyuan and Lu Xiao’s first meeting—snow falling at high altitude while rain fell on the ground below—and revisited the linguistic artistry of that exchange. Working backward from their marriage ending to trace their development, the more people dug, the more they found.
After China Meteorology Conference aired every Friday during prime time on CCTV for half a year, Meng Xueyuan, relying on his solid fundamentals, stood steadily on the stage for the entire six months. His nickname also upgraded from “Senior Meng” to “Teacher Meng.”
[Snow Night CP fans in rapture: I really have become Teacher Meng’s meteorology CP representative!]
[I’ve watched for half a year—my geography is insanely good now.]
[A humble solo fan wanted to register a Weibo name related to “meteorology class rep,” but CP fans snapped them all up two years ago.]
[You really can’t take that name—once you do, you instantly look like a CP fan. Painful.]
—
[“Meng Xueyuan, you do know this is an app that absorbed a whole fanfiction site, right?”]
[“Fun fact: the most popular CP on that fanfic site is Snow Night.”]
[“You also know that over thirty thousand high-quality works under the Snow Night tag were all migrated here, right?”]
[“Fast-forward to Meng Xueyuan reading fanfic! I came just for this segment!”]
[“Going this hard? Damn, you really understand marketing. If he reads explicit fic, will the site get shut down?”]
[“Bad news: explicit fics were migrated but all got blocked. This is a legitimate app—what are you thinking?”]
[“They’re randomly drawing a fanfic on-site, but anything inappropriate will be filtered.”]
Meng Xueyuan knew about this segment. If they wanted the public to know this was the biggest fanfiction platform, someone had to demonstrate it in person.
The host said, “Teacher Meng, please give an ID starting with 415, seven to eight digits. 415 is the serial anchor for the Snow Night tag—any articles that come up will be related.”
Meng Xueyuan casually read out a number.
The host’s phone was connected to the big screen. Everyone watched as she entered the digits one by one and tapped search. The screen displayed—
[This content will not be shown.]
Meng Xueyuan was puzzled. “What happened? Is the network bad?”
The host hesitated, not saying that it was most likely explicit content. Instead, she said, “The content isn’t suitable to be read aloud.”
“Oh.” Meng Xueyuan obediently read out another string of numbers.
[This content will not be shown.]
Meng Xueyuan began to panic. So many results not displaying—this was basically a live broadcast fail. Viewers would think, This can’t be shown, that can’t be shown, and just leave.
[Why did you all write so much porn?! slams table]
[You made it so our Yuan-yuan baby can’t even find one wholesome fanfic.]
[Is this app’s censorship really that strict? Then what’s the point of reading anything?]
[Holy shit, I went back to check my own XP-unleashing masterpiece—it really was the ID Yuan-yuan read. Sorry, yeah, this really can’t be aired. I deserved that ban.]
[What kind of XP? Let me see.]
Meng Xueyuan worried it was backend manipulation—maybe the content was actually normal, but not the kind Lu Xiao liked, so some tech guy intercepted it. He cleared his throat and hinted, “Could it be that there aren’t enough reviewers yet, and the migrated fanfics haven’t been approved? Maybe check backstage—if it can be aired, just let it out?”
[This really can’t be aired, baby. What misunderstanding do you have about us?]
[Did you hear that? The boss’s wife told you to release it.]
[Expedite it!]
The host leaned in and quietly explained the reason to Meng Xueyuan. “Choose another one.”
Meng Xueyuan pressed his lips together and, with little hope, said, “4157901.”
This time, it finally came up!
But it was a mpreg fic. Thanks to its skillful use of ellipses, it had managed to exist openly under the bright sun.
Meng Xueyuan stared at the text on the big screen. He hadn’t even had a child yet.
He only needed to read a single blurb—and it was in second person.
“You are a cute child born two years after Lu Xiao and Meng Xueyuan got married. Today, at age seven, you come home with a 58-point Chinese exam. You see your busy CEO dad and your aloof celebrity dad. Who do you ask to sign the paper?”
Meng Xueyuan said in surprise, “You can fail Chinese?”
The host seized the opportunity and asked, “Hypothetically—just hypothetically—would Teacher Meng be a strict dad?”
Meng Xueyuan hurriedly denied it. “No.” He was just confused. Elementary school Chinese was very easy—if it really wasn’t a pass, then… have Shen Ning sign it?
The host asked, “What about President Lu?”
Meng Xueyuan answered honestly, “I don’t know.”
What would Lu Xiao be like as a father? Meng Xueyuan was a little curious himself. Lu Xiao had even sworn he’d quit his job and stay home to raise the child.
Have one and see?
The host glanced at the barrage and said considerately, “Why don’t you call and ask, Teacher Meng?”
Calling a friend on a show was very common. To move past the awkward topic of constant content blocking, Meng Xueyuan took out his phone and called Lu Xiao at work.
Meng Xueyuan said, “The netizens are asking—hypothetically, if our child—”
Lu Xiao reacted dramatically. “Wife, you’re pregnant?!”
His voice was so loud even the host heard it.
Meng Xueyuan’s eyelid twitched. He sped up his speech. “It’s a hypothetical from the netizens. They’re asking: if the kid fails Chinese, how would you react?”
Lu Xiao calmed down and said, “Beat them once and they’ll pass.”
Meng Xueyuan: “……”
Then forget it. Not having one.
