RSDH CH26

Duan Xingye wished he could muzzle Cheng Duzhou’s mouth. Clamping a hand around Cheng Duzhou’s face, his voice sounded vicious: “You’d better pray nothing happened!”

Compared to the possibility of Jiang Li’s livestream picking up the audio, having the couple hear it in person was almost nothing.

As a promotional couple, if one suffered social death, the other could forget about saving face.

Without Duan Xingye needing to say much, Cheng Duzhou was already a complete wreck, stammering weakly: “I just wanted to express a modest wish…”

“Modest, my foot!” Furious, Duan Xingye let go, nearly flinging Cheng Duzhou’s head aside.

Cheng Duzhou was a man who had seen grand scenes after all. Rubbing his scalding face, he took several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down: “Hopefully time can smooth everything over… Maybe I shouldn’t go outside for now.”

Grabbing his wrist, Duan Xingye tilted his head to glance at his watch and mocked: “Five minutes won’t smooth over jack squat. You can only smooth over yourself.”

Cheng Duzhou was rendered speechless.

Five minutes later.

Duan Xingye lifted the tent flap and stepped out.

The camera in the [Lu Ye Shu Huai] livestream room followed his movements.

“Hahaha he’s out, he’s out! Let me see who’s pretending nothing happened.”

“Just watched the screen recording from Jiang Li’s stream on Weibo. No wonder the couple took off their mics, hehehe.”

“President Cheng still couldn’t resist making a move on the little kitten.”

“Not afraid to admit it, I honestly always thought Cheng Duzhou was the type unmoved by beauty.”

“Dying of laughter, so all along President Cheng thought Teacher Duan was seducing him! Being that cute, how could it be seduction?!”

“Now President Cheng doesn’t even dare to come out.”

No matter how lively the comments were, Duan Xingye had no way of knowing right now.

If his current level of social death was having one foot in the grave, Cheng Duzhou had already been reduced to ashes in the crematorium. That was why only Duan Xingye emerged, while Cheng Duzhou remained in the tent gnawing on his fingernails, needing some time alone.

The picnic cook-off would begin shortly. Five tables were already arranged on the open ground, flanked by campfires and woks set on stands.

Duan Xingye and Xiao Jiahui hadn’t matched with partners in the previous round, so they had to complete this segment independently.

Duan Xingye had no clue how to cook. Letting him mess around on his own would guarantee bottom-tier points, not to mention wasting ingredients would be a crime. Yet sitting back and letting Cheng Duzhou do everything for him wouldn’t fly with the rule-abiding production crew.

So once Cheng Duzhou finished his own team’s tasks, he would come over to assist under the guise of mentoring.

Once the guest couples entered the picnic site, all four livestreams switched to a unified view.

Across the open ground, some had already donned aprons and were busy prepping ingredients; someone grabbed a live fish from a basin with bare hands and plopped it onto a cutting board; someone was down on all fours blowing on dried kindling. Everyone had cast aside their idol baggage.

Only Duan Xingye looked completely out of place as he crossed before the camera.

With a snowy complexion and natural aristocratic elegance, mundane smoke and dust couldn’t touch him. Carrying a vegetable basket in one hand looked like a stroll with an Hermès bag.

Seeing this, viewers couldn’t help speculating: Duan Xingye doesn’t know how to cook, right? He really looks like he can’t.

Fans covered their faces: Don’t bring it up, he’s probably going to blow up the kitchen in a minute.

Arriving at his table, Duan Xingye set down the basket, wondering which vegetable to tackle first.

“Oh, Junior Brother, look at how busy I’ve been. Didn’t even get a chance to say hi all morning,” an irritating voice chimed in. “How have things been lately? How are rehearsals going for your song?”

Duan Xingye rolled his eyes speechlessly and looked up.

Tao Ziyi had approached uninvited, wearing a hypocritical smile.

He knew Tao Ziyi was referring to the track for the mentors’ solo stage.

Duan Xingye responded lukewarmly, “Just so-so.”

“Ah? You’ve already started preparing?” Tao Ziyi feigned worry. “The show kicks off next week and I haven’t rehearsed at all. What should I do? It’s a live broadcast too. I really hope I don’t flop on stage.”

Just like those people who repeatedly insist before an exam that they haven’t opened a book, crying about failing while having studied all night under a desk lamp. The stench of a grade-grubbing faker was palpable.

Lifting his eyelids, Duan Xingye retorted smoothly: “Have you ever flopped any less during live shows?”

“You!” Tao Ziyi’s face twisted, his mask knocked clean off.

Right at that moment, the massive camera jib swung over, pushing in from a wide shot to a medium shot in their direction, bringing along the boom mic hanging overhead.

Tao Ziyi had no choice but to force a strained smile. Hitting a wall with Duan Xingye yet again made him seethe with resentment.

Duan Xingye had already arranged the vegetables from the basket onto the table.

The production crew had provided not just vegetables, meat, and aromatics like ginger, scallions, and garlic, but also a bag of Sichuan peppercorns.

Grabbing a handful, Duan Xingye smelled them under his nose, curling his lip slightly.

The aroma lacked the numbing fragrance of his hometown; the quality was passable at best.

Seeing Duan Xingye’s expression, Tao Ziyi sneered inwardly.

Having belonged to the same agency in the past and being tied in joint promotions, he naturally knew Duan Xingye was pampered and practically inept at daily life. He couldn’t cook at all, yet possessed an extraordinarily picky palate.

Once, the organizers of a commercial event in Guangzhou hosted a dinner. Knowing Duan Xingye was from Sichuan-Chongqing, they specifically brought them to an old hotpot restaurant claiming authentic Sichuan-Chongqing flavors. But after swishing a single piece of tripe, Duan Xingye set down his chopsticks and stated bluntly that the soup base was improper, lacking green Sichuan peppercorn, and never touched the pot again. It had left the hosts mortified and unable to save face.

Now that the production team set up a picnic cook-off, Duan Xingye couldn’t even present a decent plate of scrambled eggs with tomatoes, yet he began finding fault with irrelevant things like spices first.

A wealthy young master truly was high-maintenance.

Taking advantage of the camera right beside them, Tao Ziyi raised his voice: “Junior Brother, I recall you don’t know how to cook, right?”

Duan Xingye arched a brow: “You want to help me?”

“How could I help? I can barely manage my own station. If anyone helps, it would be President Cheng…” Before finishing, Tao Ziyi covered his mouth as if just realizing something, quickly correcting himself: “Wait, you have to cook by yourself today. You can’t ask President Cheng for help, right? That would be cheating, since the final results count for points. Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind, but I hear President Cheng is quite skilled. If he really helps you, it wouldn’t be fair, and other guests might not like it.”

Duan Xingye’s eyes darkened slightly.

Tao Ziyi had blocked his only way out. Although the couple wasn’t placed in the same group, offering help during cooking was entirely reasonable. Viewers wouldn’t mind, seeing it as sweet fanservice, and the production crew wouldn’t stop it either.

However, Tao Ziyi insisted on bringing it up publicly, introducing the concept of fairness. Even if Cheng Duzhou didn’t lift a finger and merely stood beside him offering guidance, it would no longer work, as the nature of it would be tainted into failing to follow the rules strictly.

Staring unblinkingly at Tao Ziyi, Duan Xingye suddenly tilted his hand, letting the peppercorns rustle back into the bag. “Who said I’m asking for help? I’ll cook myself.”

Tao Ziyi was slightly surprised.

Fans in his livestream sneered.

“Come on, stop acting tough. Someone who can’t even pack luggage knows how to cook?”

“Duan Xingye talks big now, but he’ll just throw random stuff together in the end. Just wait and see.”

“Well played Tao Ziyi, gotta prevent cheating in advance.”

Tao Ziyi smiled: “Then I wish you success. Cooking is very simple, just put a little thought into it. No need to be nervous for your first time.”

At the end, he added meaningfully: “After all, you can’t rely on your husband for everything.”

Duan Xingye’s face turned icy cold. Reaching out, he snatched the kitchen knife from the side.

Thud!

Handle pointing up, the tip of the blade sank into the thick beechwood cutting board, the steel shuddering.

“!”

Frightened, Tao Ziyi jumped back a step. If that blade had hit the ground, it could have severed his foot.

His lips trembled: “What… what do you mean by this?”

Tension crackled between the two, and both livestreams were already hurling insults at each other.

“Does Duan Xingye have any manners? Damn, scared the hell out of me.”

“The instigator is the vile one. There’s no need to talk about manners with people like you.”

“Is Duan Xingye insane? Pulling a knife to threaten someone?”

“Ask your idol first if he came looking for trouble! What right does he have to say someone relies on his husband? Who has Duan Xingye ever relied on to get where he is today? Oh right, he relied on your idol stabbing him in the back back then.”

In the time it took to lazily lift his eyelids, Duan Xingye’s expression had softened, his voice slow and careless: “It’s just cooking, no need to be nervous. By the way, Senior Brother, if my cooking turns out decent, would you be willing to support me by eating a little extra as encouragement?”

A chill ran down Tao Ziyi’s spine without warning. Even during the early days of their collaboration, Duan Xingye had never called him Senior Brother.

Struggling to collect himself, fear gave way to fury. Abandoning all restraint in his tone, he spat acerbically: “Sure, of course I’ll support you. If your score exceeds five, no, three points, I’ll finish every last bite for you!”

Throwing down that harsh vow, he walked off.

Without looking up, Duan Xingye poured the red peppercorns into a prep bowl and laid out all available seasonings to take inventory.

After a moment, the camera above panned away.

Only then did Duan Xingye furrow his brows in disgust.

He was married to Cheng Duzhou, but he had never once relied on Cheng Duzhou.

When Cheng Duzhou emerged from the tent, everyone was practically ready to start.

Scanning around, he couldn’t find Duan Xingye.

A staff member passed by.

Cheng Duzhou moved to stop her, but before he could speak, the young woman said with smiling eyes, “Teacher Duan said he lacked spices, so he went to the village out back to borrow some.”

Cheng Duzhou paused.

Spices were used to season dishes. Duan Xingye couldn’t cook, yet he knew what spices were missing.

“Did he go alone?”

“Old Xu went with him.”

Cheng Duzhou felt relieved.

Seeing that he had no other questions, the girl covered her mouth with her sleeve, giggling “hehehe” as she walked away.

“…”

That laughter made Cheng Duzhou feel distinctly awkward.

Cheng Duzhou walked toward his team’s table, glancing at Jiang Li from afar before looking down again. With long legs, he usually walked with a brisk stride, yet right now his steps seemed sluggish and dragging.

Jiang Li was picking greens. Seeing Cheng Duzhou, she simply said, “You’re here?” and carried on with her work without changing expression.

Cheng Duzhou let out a faint breath of relief, picking up another bag of ingredients: “This…”

“Pfft!”

Jiang Li, who had been calmly plucking leaves a second ago, suddenly bent over and burst out laughing.

“…”

Clutching slender vegetable stalks in both hands, Jiang Li laughed uncontrollably while desperately trying to explain: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t misunderstand, President Cheng! I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at Old Xiao… hahahahaha…”

“…………”

Yet what was there to laugh about Old Xiao?

In the livestream, fans across various fandoms chimed in:

“Jiang Li’s laugh made me burst out laughing too.”

“Young couples whispering sweet nothings in private is totally understandable.”

“The Movie King persona has completely crumbled, but at the end of the day, he’s just a normal guy.”

“Teacher Duan, come quick! President Cheng can barely hold out on his own!”

Pursing his lips, Cheng Duzhou kept his head down fiddling with ingredients, his ears and face flushing red.

Duan Xingye wasn’t by his side right now.

He suddenly realized that as vast as the earth was, there was nowhere for him to hide.

The show gave everyone ninety minutes to cook.

Duan Xingye spent over forty minutes wandering around the village.

In truth, his luck was quite good. The very first household he encountered had a fan of his. The young man helped him gather most of the spices he wanted, with only monk fruit missing at the end. Running between two other households, the young fellow finally tracked it down.

Owing a personal favor, Duan Xingye signed the album the young man had purchased with sweeping strokes, remarking as he signed: “List it on Xianyu, it can sell for nine thousand.”

“…”

Holding the album, the young man watched Duan Xingye leave. Turning around, he discovered six hundred yuan had been left in the corner of the table at some point.

Far exceeding the cost of the borrowed items.

Misty rain drifted across the open fields, the dirt path damp beneath their feet.

Carrying a large bag of scallions, Duan Xingye walked at an unhurried pace.

Carrying the spices that were heavier than anticipated, Old Xu finally couldn’t resist his curiosity: “Teacher Duan, what do you need so many spices for?”

Duan Xingye said, “To fry.”

Old Xu was bewildered: “Ah?”

Others stir-fried dishes, while he was stir-frying spices?

“I don’t know how to cook dishes,” Duan Xingye admitted honestly. “I only know how to fry hotpot soup base.”

Old Xu was astounded.

Teacher Duan actually had this skill!

Strictly speaking, hotpot base wasn’t considered a standalone dish, but rather a culinary craft.

Before Duan Xingye left for Shanghai years ago, his grandfather Kan Dashan had been extremely anxious. He feared Duan Xingye wouldn’t eat well, dress warmly, or sleep soundly away from home, but feared most of all that he would get homesick and miss his beloved Sichuan-Chongqing hotpot.

So Kan Dashan spent a hefty sum to buy the recipe from a time-honored hotpot joint near their home, planning to fry the base at home and package it for Duan Xingye to take along.

Duan Xingye had almost lost his mind: “Can’t you just buy the pre-made packages from someone else?!”

Kan Dashan wouldn’t hear of it: “Xingxing, every time you open a bag, think of it as Grandpa cooking for you. That way, you won’t get homesick.”

Duan Xingye had been speechless: “…I’m not homesick.”

Unable to bear watching a man in his sixties stay cooped up in a smoke-filled kitchen, Duan Xingye joined his grandfather in frying hotpot base during that time.

They studied spices, steps, and heat control, failing countless times before finally producing a successful batch.

Yet after arriving in Shanghai, the record company imposed a strict dietary regimen forbidding high-salt, high-oil, and high-calorie food, so he gave those packets away to people around him.

Still, Duan Xingye didn’t regret it. Compared to the hotpot base itself, the memories of studying recipes in the kitchen with his grandfather were more than enough to satisfy any homesickness.

Later on, everyone who tasted it asked where they could buy more.

Nowhere.

Duan Xingye recommended other brands, but the feedback never matched that first batch he had shared.

Old Xu looked at Duan Xingye.

With the pristine appearance of an aristocratic young master, he didn’t look like someone who could fry hotpot base at all.

He asked, “Is it tasty?”

The two were already nearing the picnic clearing.

Walking along the higher ground, Duan Xingye saw Tao Ziyi wielding a spatula from afar.

Claiming he relied on his husband.

“Rest assured,” Duan Xingye let out a cold smirk, “even a shoe sole dipped in it would taste delicious.”

Cradling the borrowed items from the village, Duan Xingye hadn’t yet reached the filming site when he saw Cheng Duzhou walking toward him.

Lifting the spices in his hand, Old Xu said, “I’ll go drop these off for you first,” and took his leave.

Reaching him, Cheng Duzhou instinctively held out his hands.

Duan Xingye said, “It’s not heavy,” and walked right past him.

The bag was stuffed with scallions and beef tallow at the bottom. It wasn’t heavy, but holding it with both arms was necessary because of its bulk, as carrying it by his side hampered his walking.

Failing to take the load, Cheng Duzhou curled his fingers, turned around, and followed sluggishly.

He asked, “You went to the village?”

Duan Xingye: “Yeah.”

Glancing at the bag, Cheng Duzhou asked in a low voice, “So many scallions? What are you making?”

“Hotpot.”

“…”

“Stop staring. Don’t need your help, I can handle it.”

“…Oh.”

Duan Xingye took a few more steps forward, finally noticing something off.

Cheng Duzhou was noticeably quieter beside him than when they had first arrived.

Duan Xingye glanced at him once, then glanced again, finally unable to resist asking: “What’s wrong?”

Lost in thought, Cheng Duzhou gradually slowed to a halt.

Duan Xingye had no choice but to stop as well.

Cheng Duzhou looked toward the nearby filming site, then lowered his gaze, his face showing little sign of joy.

“What is it?” Lacking patience, Duan Xingye asked once more.

A moment of silence passed.

“It’s just…”

Hanging his head, Cheng Duzhou stepped forward two paces, gripping the sleeve at Duan Xingye’s elbow with one hand.

Duan Xingye glanced down.

Without warning, Cheng Duzhou bent his spine and, across the bulky bag of green scallions between them, rested his forehead directly against Duan Xingye’s left chest.

Duan Xingye’s heart skipped half a beat.

With a muffled voice tinged with a slight whine, Cheng Duzhou lodged a quiet complaint: “While you were gone, they were all laughing at me…”

“…”

Staring ahead, Duan Xingye forgot to blink for a moment.

He didn’t like depending on Cheng Duzhou, but when Cheng Duzhou leaned on him with complete abandon, the feeling wasn’t unpleasant.

Duan Xingye recalled the country dog at his grandfather’s place during childhood. Whenever it lost a barking match in the neighborhood and ran into him on the street, it would whimper around his legs in profound grievance, eager to lead him straight to its rival.

In Cheng Duzhou’s deep baritone, he somehow heard that exact same whimper.

Without thinking, Duan Xingye asked: “Who?”

Cheng Duzhou whispered: “Sister Jiang and the others…”

The laughter from the clearing behind them suddenly rang clear.

Duan Xingye blinked, snapping back to his senses, furrowing his brows: “Pathetic!”

Taking a step back, he showed no mercy: “Get off! Don’t get in the way of my work.”

“…”

Straightening up, his hair slightly tousled from the contact, Cheng Duzhou’s expression reverted to its usual cool composure within a second. Then, unhurriedly, the tip of his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek.

Duan Xingye glanced at him and quickly looked away: “Why are people laughing at you? Don’t you know in your heart?”

With that, he turned and walked off with the bag full of scallions.

Cheng Duzhou watched Duan Xingye’s back for a moment. Turning around, he rubbed his face, half chilled and half burning, with both hands.

He had no idea what kind of madness had possessed him.

To actually expect Duan Xingye to comfort him.

Duan Xingye only ever focused on himself and wouldn’t empathize with him, heartless to the core.

Besides, what did getting laughed at a couple of times matter? Was it that big of a deal? It wasn’t as if he had never been laughed at before.

Cheng Duzhou figured it out: he was just being melodramatic, and had even dared to expose such a side to Duan Xingye.

Previously, Cheng Duzhou hadn’t found maintaining an aloof persona exhausting; he had always been reserved by nature.

It was just that lately, he had been failing to keep his composure.

“…”

Duan Xingye probably thought he was an idiot.

Jiang Li was beating eggs at the cutting board.

Duan Xingye passed behind her, watching the woman along the way, thinking about who-knew-what.

Suddenly, Duan Xingye took two steps backward and released three mechanical laughs at Jiang Li’s back: “Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Bullet comments:

“???”

“What happened to Teacher Duan?”

“What’s he laughing at?”

Puzzled, Jiang Li turned around. Seeing Duan Xingye, she said, “Oh, you’re back?”

Duan Xingye let out a hum and walked away carrying the scallions, acting as if nothing had happened.

Setting the ingredients on the table, Duan Xingye looked up and found Cheng Duzhou standing where he had been earlier, looking his way.

The man squinted slightly, appearing pensive.

Pursing his lips, Duan Xingye discreetly pointed toward Jiang Li, mouthing across the distance:

“I laughed back for you.”

Cheng Duzhou froze slightly.

He had indeed seen Duan Xingye laugh three times at Jiang Li.

“…………”

Lowering his head, Cheng Duzhou kicked a pebble beneath his shoe. After a moment, he squatted down, crossed his extended arms, and bit the corner of his lip, unable to suppress his smile.

Totally worth it.

__

Author’s Note:

One second ago: Duan Xingye, you are heartless.

The next second: Wifey is the best.