FLME Ch86

The feedback for the first episode of the group variety show was overwhelmingly positive. Perhaps to prevent Xi Su from losing confidence and refusing to cook for everyone, netizens showered him with exaggerated praise, offering endless compliments.

—”Editing genius, filming genius…”

—”Amazing! You’re simply amazing!”

—”God said there are no perfect people in this world, so I took out a photo of Xi Su.”

Buoyed by the confidence boost, Xi Su stayed up all night to rush out the second episode.

Yu Wen’s personality and daily habits were vastly different from Song Mingzhu’s, but they shared one thing in common: both could inexplicably evoke a soft, warm feeling in viewers’ hearts when they appeared on camera.

In the variety show, Yu Wen wasn’t as lively as he usually was on other programs. He often sought cozy corners to curl up in, sometimes staying there all day. Yet, this didn’t stop the audience from enjoying his presence, finding his quiet daydreaming in the corner oddly therapeutic.

Occasionally, viewers thought they caught glimpses of Song Mingzhu in Yu Wen.

Great actors have this quality—they immerse themselves so deeply into a role that it takes time to separate themselves from the character. After finishing a major project, a break is often necessary. Some actors even develop the same ailments as their characters.

It seemed Mingzhu still lingered within Yu Wen, though the two were fundamentally different people.

Responding to strong demand from netizens on Weibo, Xi Su dared to let the cameras into the cast members’ bedrooms in the first episode.

Chu Han didn’t mind, treating it as just another part of filming. Xie Heyu and Yu Wen, on the other hand, reacted indifferently but ended up covering the cameras in their room that night.

There were occasional moments when the cameras weren’t covered.

In the second episode, there were plenty of bedroom scenes, revealing another secret about Yu Wen—his poor sleeping posture—following the earlier revelation of his picky eating habits.

How bad was Yu Wen’s sleeping posture? It depended on how much energy he had left.

If he had gone for a jog or done some other exercise before bed and was thoroughly tired, he could sleep quietly. Otherwise, he would launch a random attack on the world in his sleep.

Xie Heyu often found himself kicked awake but, being strong, could subdue Yu Wen. The two would frequently wake up the next day tightly wrapped around each other—because if Xie Heyu didn’t hold him tightly, Yu Wen would practically fly away in his sleep.

Because of his terrible sleeping posture, kicking off the blanket was a common occurrence for Yu Wen. Without Xie Heyu, one could only imagine how many times he’d fall sick in a month.

Netizens marveled at Xie Heyu’s patience while also feeling grateful for his presence.

He took care of Yu Wen so well.

Loving someone is like tending to a flower. Yu Wen had many bad habits, but with Xie Heyu around, they became inconsequential. With just a little care, Yu Wen could continue living as he pleased.

Watching the show, viewers often couldn’t help but think of Mingzhu.

The drama had just ended, and even the actors hadn’t fully moved on from their roles, so it was natural that the audience couldn’t let go either.

What made Mingzhu so heartbreaking wasn’t his tragic background—something even he didn’t dwell on—but the complete absence of love in his life.

Whether it was familial love, friendship, or romantic love, he had none of it.

He was so well-behaved, so intelligent, like a stray kitten on the street. His snowy white fur was dirty and disheveled, and he sat quietly in a corner, watching people pass by one after another. Not a single one was willing to take him home.

But Yu Wen had all of those things—family, friends, and love.

Even though only four of them were on vacation together, the presence of the core team members left behind in S City was palpable. Xie Jiamao called in via video chat about once a week, usually to talk to Xie Heyu. The phone would make the rounds, going from Chu Han to Xi Su and finally to Yu Wen, often leading to conversations lasting over an hour.

Xi Su usually got scolded, Chu Han often received praise, and Yu Wen’s turn involved a mix of work talk and casual chit-chat.

Xie Jiamao would ask him how his meals were, how his mood was, whether he was having fun, and share funny things he’d seen online. His fatherly tone was unmistakable.

The key was that Yu Wen always answered seriously.

“The food is great, my mood is great, it’s really fun, hahaha.”

Their conversations felt less like a company boss checking in on an artist and more like a dad caring for his child.

Gao Kaiyu occasionally called as well.

His calls were less casual, usually revolving around discussions of new scripts with Yu Wen.

Yu Wen: “Me?”

Gao Kaiyu: “I’m looking for Yu Wen. Isn’t that you?”

Yu Wen: “I’m not. I’m Yu Wen’s younger brother, a nobody. By the way, what did that guy surnamed Yu do to deserve influencing Director Gao’s script direction?”

Gao Kaiyu: “…Because his last name is Yu?”

Yu Wen: “What a pity, mine’s Mo.”

Their exchanges were filled with nonsensical logic and banter. Gao Kaiyu’s infamous temper was well-known in the industry, but Yu Wen didn’t cater to it. Whenever Gao Kaiyu showed signs of losing his temper, Yu Wen would start spouting nonsense.

Every time, he managed to extinguish Gao Kaiyu’s anger.

Although Starlight Media was known for its chaos, its relaxed and cheerful atmosphere was enviable.

Chu Han, being quiet and reserved, lacked a sense of variety show presence. The company rarely arranged for him to appear on reality shows, but his unprecedented presence in this group show was undeniable.

How could it not be? Just look at where he kept showing up—corners, shadows, behind potted plants.

Standing there motionless, he exuded an eerie vibe.

At first, viewers didn’t notice him. But after someone mentioned it in the comments, everyone started paying attention to Chu Han’s location.

Unlike Xi Su, who was glued to his devices, or Yu Wen, who was always looking for a cozy spot, Chu Han spent most of his time wandering around, seemingly busy but with no clear purpose.

Previously, viewers had wondered why Chu Han was always roaming. Now they knew.

He was “coincidentally” passing by every interaction between Xie Heyu and Yu Wen.

“Teacher Chu embodies my energy when I’m shipping a CP.”

“This is too real; I’m sweating.”

“Stop exposing me…”

“We’re just internet friends, but you’ve crossed a line.”

Every time Yu Wen turned around and saw Chu Han, his expression was priceless, as if he was about to call for Xi Su to fire the cannon.

He felt that even without Feng Chengzhou, Chu Han was too idle. With his hands on his hips, he ordered Chu Han to call Feng Chengzhou to maintain their relationship.

“Hello?” Feng Chengzhou’s voice on the other end of the line was cold.

Yu Wen: “Call more often and keep an eye on Chu Han.”

The other side remained silent for a long time.

“Chu Han?”

Chu Han: “Yeah.”

Feng Chengzhou: “…I thought we broke up.”

Chu Han: “Huh?”

Feng Chengzhou: “You deleted me on WeChat half a month ago.”

Chu Han looked puzzled. After a moment, he seemed to recall something and said, “Oh, I was cleaning up my contacts. Maybe your WeChat name was too official, and I accidentally deleted you.”

Feng Chengzhou was overjoyed, “I knew it was just a misunderstanding…”

He had spent half a month reflecting, unable to figure out what he had done to upset Chu Han. It turned out it was all a misunderstanding.

“Wait—”

Midway through his joy, Feng Chengzhou realized something.

“You didn’t even save me as a contact.” His tone turned calm and accusatory.

Chu Han: “…”

Feng Chengzhou was hurt. Knowing he was in the wrong, Chu Han took the initiative to call him every day. Spending more time on Feng Chengzhou meant he no longer had the leisure to keep a constant watch on Yu Wen.

Yu Wen was very pleased.

He and Xie Heyu loved walking along the beach at dusk, wading in the water. Yu Wen had a fascination with pretty seashells and would collect a pile after a single walk.

Xi Su set up cameras outside, especially near the hammock nook by the beach where Yu Wen spent more time than in the villa. He placed four cameras to capture every angle.

Every evening, Yu Wen would bring back his shells and return to the hammock nook, hanging two portable nightlights on either side. Under the warm golden glow, he and Xie Heyu would lean their heads together, carefully selecting the prettiest shells.

“This one looks like Xi Su,” Yu Wen remarked.

Xie Heyu glanced at it. “Not really. Its nose is straighter than Xi Su’s.”

Yu Wen examined it for a moment and concluded, “It’s better looking than Xi Su.”

Each night, they would hold a “Seashell Beauty Contest,” selecting the top ten from the night’s haul. After deliberating their merits and flaws, they would crown the top three, with the winner earning a spot in Yu Wen’s collection.

Once the collection reached sixty shells, they would hold a second round of competitions, repeating the process until the ultimate “most beautiful shell” was chosen.

Some shells were selected for their universal appeal, while others stood out for their unique characteristics, catching Yu Wen’s discerning eye.

“Xi Su” was among them.

“This blue shell, please give your competition speech,” Yu Wen said, holding his phone as a makeshift microphone and pointing it at “Xi Su.”

The cool night breeze rustled through the quiet woods.

“It’s not speaking,” Yu Wen declared.

Xie Heyu: “Too silent. Pass.”

Yu Wen agreed and decisively set the blue shell aside.

One by one, they analyzed the shells until only two contenders remained: an orange shell favored by Yu Wen and a white one endorsed by Xie Heyu.

“Now for the judges’ vote,” Yu Wen announced.

He placed his pebble, representing his vote, next to the orange shell.

Xie Heyu also placed his pebble by the orange shell.

Yu Wen declared, “Now I announce the conclusion of the 52nd ‘Seashell Beauty Contest.’ The champion is Little Orange!”

Xie Heyu clapped.

Yu Wen said, “You lost to me. Now you owe me two beautiful conch shells.”

By then, the sun had set, and the sky was a deep, pristine blue. The lighthouse on the sea twinkled faintly. Carrying a small nightlight, Xie Heyu went off to find conch shells.

Not long after, he called out from afar, “Yu Wen, come look—”

Thinking he had found something extraordinary, Yu Wen jumped up and ran over excitedly.

The camera, positioned far from the shore, captured only their silhouettes and no audio. When Xi Su reviewed the footage, he had no idea what they were talking about, but the scene was so heartwarming he included it in the final cut.

Yu Wen, carrying a small nightlight, ran toward Xie Heyu, his shirt billowing in the breeze.

“What is it?” Yu Wen asked expectantly.

Xie Heyu held up an oddly shaped shell. “Look.”

Yu Wen was silent.

“It must have its reasons for looking this strange. Let’s keep it,” Yu Wen decided after examining it for a moment. The quirky little thing had its own charm. With a wave of his hand, he added it to the collection.

As the tide receded, more peculiar items appeared on the beach. The two rolled up their pant legs and continued searching.

Whenever Yu Wen found something interesting, he would excitedly run to Xie Heyu, his eyes shining brightly in the glow of the small nightlight, his smile dazzling.

At these moments, Xie Heyu would take the other lamp from him, lighting the way as he watched Yu Wen brush sand off the items with care.

The night wind never ceased. The young men by the sea shared a smile, their bodies wrapped in the breeze, radiating an energy that seemed almost tangible.

—”So sunny and pure, it reminds me of when I wasn’t a bitter hag.”

—”These two are such a sweet young couple…”

—”Who opened my coffin?!”

—”I almost forgot that our Xie-Yu pair are just two young lovebirds.”

—”I’m a thousand-year-old zombie. Show me more of this wholesome content, and I might just come back to life!”

Yu Wen still retained some habits he had developed while playing Song Mingzhu, such as eating with a spoon. He hadn’t yet adapted to change.

The heartwarming dynamic of Starlight Media’s variety show often left viewers in a daze, as if they were watching a parallel universe where Song Mingzhu lived a happy and fulfilled life.

It felt like a “stand-in narrative,” but Yu Wen didn’t mind. The bones of Song Mingzhu came from the director and screenwriter, but the flesh and blood were his creation. Being remembered so fondly by so many was a compliment he deeply appreciated.

After producing three or four episodes of the mini variety show, Xi Su hit a bottleneck. During their seaside vacation, they spent most of their time lounging around, leaving him with little usable footage.

But Xi Su refused to give up. On the day before their return, he told Yu Wen, “I’m going to install cameras in our dormitory.”

The mini variety show was too popular to abandon halfway—it was Xi Su’s pride and joy!

Yu Wen: “…”

Unfazed, Yu Wen replied, “I don’t live in the dormitory anyway.”

Xi Su pondered for a moment. “I’ll install them at Mr. Xie’s place too.”

Yu Wen, packing his luggage, shrugged. “It’s his house. Go ask him.”

Xi Su considered the feasibility and decided it was worth a shot. He prepared to negotiate with Xie Heyu.

Before he left, Yu Wen called him over and handed him a palm-sized shell.

Xi Su: “What’s this?”

Yu Wen: “You.”

Xi Su: “…”

He recognized the shell immediately—it had appeared in the variety show. Xie Heyu had even commented that its nose was straighter than his.

Xi Su examined it closely.

Damn.

“It really does look like me.”