Chapter 29

In the morning, Yan Xi hitched a ride with Song Hai to the TV station. As she got out of the car, she saw a crowd of fans holding light boards and banners outside the station. These fans were dressed in uniform support-themed T-shirts, with the majority being male.

It was not uncommon to see such a scene when a big-name celebrity came for an interview or to participate in a show. Yan Xi was used to it and didn't pay much attention. As she entered the station, she ran into Xiao Yang, and the two chatted while waiting for the elevator.

"I heard a film crew is coming to promote their movie today. The male and female leads are both A-list stars. The recording doesn't start until two in the afternoon, but fans have been waiting outside since early morning," Xiao Yang said sympathetically. "They'll be waiting all day, and those stars might not even use the main entrance. What's the point?"

"They do it because it makes them happy," Yan Xi said as she smoothed her loose hair. "It's probably a form of emotional fulfillment. They enjoy the feeling of chasing their idols, watching them grow over time. As long as it doesn't affect their lives, it's actually a pretty wholesome form of entertainment."

"That actually makes sense," Xiao Yang admitted. She noticed others approaching and decided to drop the topic. Smiling at Yan Xi, she said no more.

When the elevator doors opened, Yan Xi and Xiao Yang hadn't stepped inside when several people quickly moved to block the doorway, allowing a woman in sunglasses to enter first.

Surrounded by assistants and bodyguards, the woman was clearly in a world of her own, separate from the ordinary people around her. Her lofty presence made others seem insignificant. Xiao Yang felt intimidated and didn't dare step in.

"Hello, Ms. Shen," Yan Xi greeted, recognizing the woman as Shen Xingyan, the station's leading host. Pulling Xiao Yang along, Yan Xi entered the elevator.

Shen Xingyan removed her sunglasses and smiled at her. "Hello, you're Yan Xi, a host from Channel 8, right?" She remembered this young woman from an encounter near the elevator a few months ago.

"Yes," Yan Xi noticed that one of Shen Xingyan's bodyguards had pressed the button for the floor where Channel 8 was located. "I'm surprised and flattered that you remember me, Ms. Shen."

"I've watched your show a couple of times. You're doing a great job," Shen Xingyan said as she looked at the young host. A decade ago, she had been this age, doing tasks like handing microphones to the hosts. Now, seeing this fresh-faced junior, she couldn't help but feel that time was indeed unforgiving. No matter how well-maintained her skin was, nearing forty, it couldn't match the radiance of youth. "Keep working hard. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future."

"Thank you, Ms. Shen," Yan Xi said with a slight start. She bowed slightly to Shen Xingyan.

The elevator stopped at their floor. Yan Xi respectfully said, "Ms. Shen, this is Channel 8's floor. Goodbye."

"Mm." Shen Xingyan nodded. After Yan Xi and Xiao Yang stepped out of the elevator, she put her sunglasses back on.

"Sister Shen," her assistant whispered to her, "she seems to be just a host for a small program, right?" So what if she had a few days of fame online? Internet celebrities these days are even more fleeting than shooting stars. Once their popularity fades, who will remember them? With Sister Shen's status, a highly sought-after host whom even the national station wants to recruit, why treat a newcomer so kindly?

"There's no such thing as a small or big host," Shen Xingyan replied calmly. "If someone has persistence and dreams, they deserve my respect."

After years of struggle in the industry, she had long given up on many of her principles. However, seeing a host like Yan Xi, who genuinely seemed to want to make a difference, stirred a bit of admiration in her heart. She didn't know how long Yan Xi's sincerity would last, but at least for now, she was holding on to certain principles.

The assistant understood the unspoken meaning behind Shen Xingyan's words and dared not say more.

"Ahhhh, I can't believe I missed such a great opportunity to take a photo with Ms. Shen!" Xiao Yang clutched her chest dramatically, as if she'd just lost hundreds of thousands of dollars. "Why was I so timid just now that I couldn't even speak? Xiao Yan, you're amazing—Ms. Shen even knows you!" No wonder she was stuck working behind the scenes, while Xiao Yan was a host. With her level of timidity, if she appeared on camera, she'd probably freeze up and start stuttering.

"Amazing, my foot," Yan Xi laughed, squeezing Xiao Yang's hand. "My palms are covered in sweat."

Xiao Yang took the opportunity to squeeze her hand. "I don't feel any sweat, but your hand is so soft! You must never do housework, huh?"

"I do wash dishes and mop the floor occasionally," Yan Xi said, swatting her hand away. "You little pervert!"

"How occasional? Once every five days? Once every two weeks?"

Yan Xi was speechless. Did she really seem that lazy?

"What pervert?" Chen Pei approached and handed Yan Xi a report. "Here are the news topics reported over the past two days. You can pick which ones you want to cover."

Ever since the success of the Little Song Song incident and the firefighter program, Yan Xi had gained more influence in the production team. Even Chen Pei no longer forced specific topics on her. Instead, he planned several ideas and let Yan Xi choose for herself.

As Yan Xi flipped through the materials, she found topics like a cheating husband who disappeared for ten years and returned gravely ill, only to be carefully cared for by his ex-wife; a man who squandered money on gambling, drinking, and womanizing, neglecting his family, while his wife diligently cared for his bedridden in-laws; and a story about a wife who raised her husband's illegitimate child, who eventually achieved great success and got into a prestigious university. To fund his education, the wife even made her own child give up their studies to fully support the illegitimate son's schooling.

"What are these so-called touching stories?" Yan Xi sifted through the materials, setting these aside, and said to Chen Pei, "If we broadcast these now, some of the older audience might like them, but if they go online, we'll get criticized by more young people."

"Our show's target audience is mainly the elderly," Chen Pei tried to persuade her. "Young people don't watch these programs anyway."

Yan Xi shook her head. "Chen Jie, is there a single story here about someone living for themselves? I feel exhausted just reading about them." She didn't demand that others share her values, but to praise such behavior and turn it into a program to move others? At her current level of tolerance, she simply couldn't do it.

"Let me look again. Maybe there's something more suitable." Yan Xi rummaged through the materials and found a piece about a delivery driver rescuing a child. It was tucked inconspicuously among the other documents, but it sparked an idea for her.

"Chen Jie, why don't we contact this delivery driver and follow him for a day?" Yan Xi tried her best to convince Chen Pei. "Our audience skews older, and they're sure to appreciate hardworking young people like him. We could try it as a test episode. If it's successful, we can feature other professions like cleaners, waitstaff, or teachers. What do you think?"

Chen Pei wasn't entirely convinced. Most people who order takeout are young, while older folks prefer cooking their own meals and likely have little interaction with this line of work. Why would they be interested in such a program?

But seeing Yan Xi's eager expression, she nodded in agreement. After all, delivery drivers weren't a sensitive topic, and they'd already covered firefighters, so this shouldn't be an issue.

At worst, the ratings would be low—no big deal.

While other stations racked their brains for ratings, only small local stations like this one could remain inexplicably calm in the face of fluctuating viewership.

The production team quickly contacted the delivery driver and scheduled the shoot for the weekend since Yan Xi happened to have the day off from hosting the lunchtime news program.

After a preliminary inquiry, Yan Xi learned that delivery drivers had to wake up before 6 a.m. and compete for orders with their peers rather than passively waiting for assignments from restaurants.

That morning, she struggled to get up. While doing her makeup, she nearly mistook her foundation for primer. Luckily, her commitment to maintaining her on-screen image forced her to pull herself together.

Unfortunately, the weather wasn't cooperating—it was raining heavily that day. When Yan Xi met the delivery driver, Zhou Qiang, the sky was still dark.

Zhou Qiang looked very ordinary, with faint dimples that appeared when he smiled, giving him a shy demeanor. Wearing a raincoat, he appeared somewhat thin and frail, making it hard to reconcile him with the hero who had saved a child.

"Don't be nervous; just do things as you usually would," Yan Xi noticed Zhou Qiang's unease and smiled to reassure him. "The rain is pretty heavy today, so make sure to ride carefully."

"Got it." Zhou Qiang wiped his hands, secured an order, and rode his electric scooter into the rain.

Yan Xi and Zhao Peng quickly got into their car and followed him.

Sometimes Zhou Qiang would deliver several orders at once. To keep the food dry, he used a large leather bag to pack the meal boxes and delivered them one by one based on the proximity of the addresses.

The work was monotonous and dull. After filming for several hours, during which Zhou Qiang had already swapped out two batteries for his scooter, Zhao Peng still hadn't captured anything particularly interesting. Taking a sip of water, he turned to Yan Xi. "Are we filming in the afternoon too?"

"Yes." She wasn't looking to capture conflicts but rather to document the daily routine of a delivery driver.

"Alright then." Zhao Peng shook his head. "I just don't get you young people's ideas anymore." For a program, conflicts were what made it interesting. For example, encountering rude customers or uncooperative vendors. But all morning, the vendors had been polite to the courier, and the customers were amicable too. Even when Zhou Qiang was late by a few minutes, instead of complaining, they said things like, "It's raining today; you must have had a hard time."

No conflict, no story. Without a story, what's the point of a show?

At noon, Zhou Qiang invited them to his home for lunch. The meal was prepared by his newlywed wife. Their home was old and small but impeccably clean. To host Yan Xi and Zhao Peng, Zhou Qiang's wife had taken a two-hour leave from work to make several dishes.

Although the food wasn't anything special to Yan Xi, their warmth and hospitality were evident.

"We don't have much to offer. Let me whip up my signature dish," Zhou Qiang said, washing his hands and preparing another dish, which he placed on the table, urging them to sit down. "Come, have a seat."

The table was old but scrubbed spotless.

Yan Xi noticed that Zhou Qiang's wife seemed particularly fond of his signature dish. Perhaps it was a dish he'd learned to make specifically for her. Zhao Peng captured some footage of the couple as they ate.

After lunch, Zhou Qiang barely had time to rest before wiping his mouth clean and resuming his hustle to secure and deliver orders, like an unrelenting spinning top. Each successful order seemed to bring him immense satisfaction.

After 10 p.m., although many people were still placing orders, Zhou Qiang stopped accepting them and rode his scooter home, stopping by a fruit stand to buy a bag of fruit.

"After 10 p.m., many people order late-night snacks. Why don't you take more orders?"

"I can't risk driving while overtired. If something happened, my family would worry," Zhou Qiang replied, placing the bag of fruit into his leather carrier and smiling sheepishly. "Besides, my wife finishes work around this time, so I can pick her up and take her home. She'd worry if I stayed out too late."

Yan Xi smiled. "It's clear you really love her."

"Love? What love?" Zhou Qiang was visibly uncomfortable with such a sentimental term. "She's already had to endure a lot by being with me. I can't let her worry anymore. Once we save enough, we'll head back to our hometown and start a small business."

Yan Xi didn't press him further. They continued filming as Zhou Qiang picked up his wife from work and followed them home. At the doorstep, they said their goodbyes.

After the door closed, Yan Xi noticed Zhao Peng had already turned off the camera. "Brother Zhao, can we get a close-up of the door?"

It was a door with peeling paint, surrounded by crumbling plaster. However, in the middle was a bold red "Fu" character written in calligraphy. The bright, vibrant red seemed to light up the entire scene.

She took out her phone and snapped a picture of the "Fu" character. Once back in the car, she posted it on her social media.

Yan the Single Dog: This is love. [Photo attached]

The next morning, Yuan Yi woke up in his hotel bed and saw this post. His heart skipped a beat, as if he had just swallowed a block of ice, the chill spreading through him as though a cold wind was blowing. Touching his face, he realized his fingertips were cold to the touch.

Without thinking, he opened his contacts and dialed Yan Xi's number.

The phone rang for a long time before it was finally answered. Before he could say a word, an angry roar burst through the line.

"Yuan Xiao'er! What kind of grudge do you have against me?! Calling me in the middle of the night?!"

Yuan Yi stared blankly at the bright sun outside his window, suddenly realizing—he was still abroad on a business trip, not back in the country.

Yan Xi, who had barely slept the night before and was now being woken up in the middle of the night, didn't care who was calling. Her fury was enough to launch a firework into space. "What is it, Young Master, Great Lord! If you don't have anything important to say, you'd better prepare to be hunted down by me!"

Clutching his ear, which was nearly deafened by her yell, Yuan Yi found himself at a loss. Right. Why had he suddenly called her?

"I... I..." He suddenly had a flash of inspiration. "I'll be back the day after tomorrow. Just wanted to see if there's anything you want me to bring back?" Yesterday, he'd overheard his assistant complain about relatives asking for everything from lipstick to skincare products, driving them crazy with all the color codes.

"Brother, you called me in the middle of the night just for this?" Yan Xi wanted to kneel in front of him in disbelief. She rolled around on her bed a few times to tamp down her frustration. "There's nothing I want. I just want to sleep!"

Yuan Yi: ...

"Then go back to sleep." As soon as Yuan Yi said this, he heard the sound of the call being hung up on the other end without hesitation.

His chest felt tight.

That night, Zhang Wang vaguely remembered receiving a call from someone, but he couldn't recall a single word of the conversation.

When he checked his call log, he saw that it was Yuan Xiao'er, that idiot. Just because he was abroad didn't mean he could ignore the fact that it was the middle of the night in China! But what exactly had he said last night?

Standing in front of a beauty counter, Yuan Yi's expression was stiff as he said, "I want a set of lipsticks."

"A set?" The sales assistant repeated in a foreign language.

"Yes, all the shades."

Zhang Wang once said that to make a woman happy, luxury bags or jewelry were the way to go. But Yuan Yi found that unreliable. So, he searched online and discovered the most upvoted answer: lipstick.

The answer claimed that when it came to making a woman happy, there was nothing lipstick couldn't fix. If one wasn't enough, a whole set would do the trick—there'd definitely be a shade she liked.

He just hoped Yan Xi would overlook him waking her up in the middle of the night because of the lipsticks. Somehow, he felt that if he didn't bring her something as a peace offering, she'd stomp on his foot with a stiletto heel.

Even though she'd never done anything excessive to him, why was he so afraid of her? Maybe the image of her using a high heel to fend off a thug was etched too deeply in his mind.

"Boss, does your mother like this brand of lipstick?" The assistant discreetly calculated the price of the entire set in his mind.

"It's not for her; it's for a friend," Yuan Yi replied, remembering that the assistant had many female relatives. "This brand of lipstick—is it popular with young women?"

The assistant nodded. "Is it for... a girlfriend?"

"What girlfriend?" Yuan Yi placed the lipsticks on the car seat and lowered his gaze. "I don't have the energy to woo women. She's just an ordinary female friend."

Giving lipsticks to an ordinary female friend? The assistant glanced at his boss and wisely decided to hold his tongue.

If ordinary female friends were getting this kind of treatment from the boss, what else was there to say?