The broadcast of Si Yao Biography was a surprise, sudden drop with virtually zero promotional material. Due to controversies surrounding the male lead, the cuts and edits were heavy-handed, and the production team initially had zero confidence, even preparing to open paid advanced-screening previews to quickly wrap things up. Yet after two days on air, seeing that the popularity was actually quite good, they came up with the idea to organize a variety show appearance.
Liao Bin naturally wouldn’t come, leaving the starring responsibilities solely to female lead Zhu Shanshan, veteran second-male specialist Yu Zihan, and Qiu Mian, the unexpected dark horse who had reaped the greatest dividends.
This was Qiu Mian’s first time participating in a variety show. It wasn’t for the sake of maintaining a persona or tone; he simply felt too lazy to socialize with people. After all, the interactivity of variety shows was much stronger than filming, focusing the spotlight even more intensely on one’s real-life appearance.
Qiu Mian had the self-awareness to recognize that his personality was exceedingly dull, making him unsuited for displaying too much of himself.
Although his initial entry into the entertainment industry was simply to get his face out there, remembering his face alone was enough; deeper levels of personal exploration were entirely unnecessary.
However, the purpose of appearing on Today is Most Joyful was promotion. Practically every drama starring high-traffic stars followed this promotional routine, and sometimes lesser-known stars with lower name recognition even ganged up to appear on stage together, piecing a single episode out of several low-budget, obscure shows.
Today is Most Joyful was not a heavy-script variety show, not that scripts were entirely absent, but they mainly focused on promotion-related interviews and reenactments, which were noted in advance. At other times, the guest team and resident cast competed against each other in joyous games, relying heavily on free-form improvisation with the mutual understanding that nobody should steal the spotlight.
Zhu Shanshan had been on the show several times and was thoroughly familiar with the routine. Three years ago, she had still played the second female lead opposite Liao Bin; now, she wouldn’t even glance at a script unless she was the number-one female lead. It was precisely because she had gained popularity that the production crew found the confidence to pull off such flashy maneuvers.
She commanded the most screen time and served as the ratings guarantee. The production team handed her the procedural script to review, and she had no particular objections, though her manager picked apart quite a few details: “The broadcast version of this segment has different lines from the performance. It might spark controversy, so it’s best not to ask any questions about filming impressions.”
Only then did Zhu Shanshan look closely: “My lines didn’t change. Qiu Mian’s did.”
Qiu Mian had been resting with his eyes closed and wasn’t even stirred when his name was called. His assistant awkwardly laughed to smooth things over, only explaining the whole situation to Qiu Mian once he woke up.
Lacking experience, Wei Pu hadn’t anticipated this and felt somewhat panicked for a moment: “Should we discuss changing the segment with the program team?”
“No need.” Qiu Mian flipped through the script page by page, his expression blank as he read: “We’ll just re-enact it live.”
After reading through it just once, he memorized everything. Although the line changes weren’t massive, the implications were vastly different.
In the original drama, this scene was a confrontation involving multiple parties. Si Yao was the spiritual manifestation of an ancient divine herb containing three leaves, representing the three souls of heaven, earth, and mankind. Jinggu, the crown prince of the demon realm played by Qiu Mian, deliberately deceived Si Yao into seeking true love in order to boost his own power. However, due to unforeseen circumstances, he had to abandon the female lead when forced to choose between two options. Believing Si Yao to be dead, he later encountered Si Yao paired up with the immortal realm’s crown prince played by Liao Bin, to the extent that she didn’t even recognize him. Driven by complex emotions, he investigated the truth and couldn’t wait to tell the male lead that the immortal herb he had offered to the Heavenly Emperor a millennium ago to heal his wounds was actually Si Yao’s heavenly soul, and that his recovery from the five signs of decay back to an immortal lord’s status relied on Si Yao’s earthly soul. This revelation caused the two of them to break apart in heartbreak and despair, while the demon realm young master played by Yu Zihan seized the opportunity to take away the human-soul Si Yao.
In the edited version, however, Jinggu’s persona underwent a massive overhaul, transforming from a ruthless and merciless villain into a deeply affectionate, outwardly cruel yet inwardly soft secondary male lead. Thus, he hadn’t deliberately exploited Si Yao; rather, he had been deceived by fellow clansmen coveting the position of Demon Lord. While this made his intelligence look like it had suffered an epic nerf, it at least prevented him from seeming as low as before. Coupled with the trimming of many romantic interactions between the male lead and the abandoned earthly-soul Si Yao, viewers perceived that Jinggu was still desperately searching for the missing Si Yao, while Si Yao promptly turned around and lived happily ever after with an idiot, the male lead suffering from the five decays of heaven and man. The scale tipping toward shipping the CP instantly slanted.
Consequently, in this breakup scene, where the original Jinggu clearly knew Si Yao was present and deliberately exaggerated details to guide the narrative, the edited version transformed him into someone who couldn’t bear for Si Yao to find out, wishing only for a clear-cut confrontation with the male lead. The general outline of the lines remained, but the tone, subtle micro-expressions, and underlying connotations differed significantly.
Fortunately, this was a variety show, allowing for rehearsals and pre-recording. Furthermore, the person acting opposite Qiu Mian wasn’t Liao Bin, but a comedic heavyweight from the resident cast of Today is Most Joyful. The comedian brought his own comedic timing, excelled at flexibly tossing out jokes to liven up the atmosphere, and frequently improvised lines for the sake of the program’s effect. The only thing testing Qiu Mian was his ability to catch and return those jokes.
The result turned out even more disastrous.
“I am going to take Si Yao away.”
“Uhm, fine! Then, what you’re taking away is Tianyao, Diyao, or…” While mentioning Tianyao and Diyao, the comedic heavyweight loosely embraced Zhu Shanshan, then thrust his hips forward, vainly fiddling with his fake hairpiece and casting a coy, flirtatious glance. “Could it be this Renyao?”
Zhu Shanshan laughed and scolded: “That’s a monster, not a human!”
Everyone burst into laughter. The comedian and Zhu Shanshan had lost the previous gaming segment and temporarily swapped roles for a cross-dressing skit, sparking numerous amusing moments. Now, with the punchline making a comeback, it sent the guests into fits of continuous laughter.
Only Qiu Mian remained entirely unresponsive, utterly out of sync with the entire room as though standing outside the picture. He seemed completely incapable of understanding where the humor lay, his calm gaze filled with genuine questioning.
Thinking that Qiu Mian didn’t understand the explanation, Yu Zihan softly enlightened him: “Renyao just means dressing as the opposite sex, and since yao and yao are homophones…”
“Yeah, I know,” Qiu Mian said. “So what’s funny about it?”
When Qiu Mian communicated face-to-face with others, he always looked directly into their eyes. His gaze was excessively straightforward and sincere, pure as a child’s, and very few people could endure not looking away, not out of fear, but from a sense of guilty conscience.
That gaze was too clear, clear to the point of being naked, genuinely informing you that he harbored no pretense while vividly conveying: I don’t understand.
Yu Zihan suddenly realized that the most awkward moment wasn’t explaining a joke, but rather having the other person remain completely indifferent after the explanation was finished.
The surrounding laughter gradually subsided, and even the air grew somewhat congealed. Qiu Mian successfully silenced everyone entirely by his own efforts.
Noticing that the atmosphere had quieted down, Qiu Mian continued reciting his lines with an unchanged expression.
Everyone else: “…” I yield.
After the acting segment concluded came the teammate-selection stage. A resident guest smiled and asked: “What type does Xiao Mian like?”
This particular guest was playing the persona of an infatuated fan who adored Qiu Mian throughout the episode, praising his handsomeness several times. The standard response would have been to direct the description toward this questioning resident guest, engage in witty banter back and forth, and naturally pair up. However, upon hearing this, Qiu Mian paused.
Before anyone else felt anything amiss, Wei Pu, waiting backstage, felt a premonition of disaster.
Sure enough, Qiu Mian thought about it earnestly and delivered a shocking response: “I’m a looks-maxxing face-con.”
The unspoken silence of everyone present required no elaboration. The main issue was that this resident guest didn’t run on a visuals-based persona, and her physical figure was frequently used by other guests for lighthearted banter. But that was between close friends of equal status; audiences wouldn’t find it offensive. When such subtext came out of the mouth of an oblivious, washed-up nobody, however, the perception became an entirely different story.
Even though Wei Pu knew Qiu Mian wouldn’t think that deeply and was simply speaking the unvarnished truth according to his own preferences, though Wei Pu himself didn’t understand where this face-con preference stemmed from, outsiders didn’t know that! If this segment were broadcast, it would undoubtedly get mocked into oblivion.
Fortunately, the guest reacted quickly, coyly wriggling her body and neutralizing the awkwardness with a “You’re basically talking about me,” while successfully pairing up with Qiu Mian to maintain her infatuated persona without the slightest hint of displeasure.
The subsequent variety show recording proceeded through ups and downs until it finally wrapped up around midnight during late-night snack hours. Both Zhu Shanshan and Yu Zihan rushed off without stopping to赶 red-eye flights for new schedules waiting for them tomorrow.
Only Qiu Mian, currently cooling his heels due to the stolen role, found himself temporarily idle. The new project he had reviewed the other day wouldn’t start for at least two months, leaving him with only magazine shoots and commercial endorsements in the near future.
“Mianmian, you were right not to accept variety shows.” Watching with a frightened heart from backstage, Wei Pu sought him out, feeling utterly drained and still lingering with terror.
“Hmph.”
Though it was a fact, drawing that conclusion from it didn’t seem like a pleasant experience. Qiu Mian narrowed his eyes, finding it entirely natural: “If it’s not funny, I won’t laugh.”
“There wasn’t a single thing that could possibly poke at your sense of humor!”
“Prejudice. I’m about to feel joyful right now.” As he spoke, Qiu Mian tapped his phone a few times.
Wei Pu curiously peered over, only to see the navigation map for Xing City’s midnight snack street displayed on the screen.
“No, no, no, absolutely not! You already ate that yesterday! I have to supervise you!”
Qiu Mian silently looked over, his cold gaze exuding complex emotions such as struggle, sorrow, and resolute determination, and Wei Pu inwardly noted to remind himself of this look the next time Qiu Mian acted in an emotional scene.
“One more day.” Qiu Mian exercised absolute dictatorship. “You gave away my favorite spicy cold-eating rabbit snacks, so I’m going to eat it back.”