The Beginning is the End
If a camera lens had been aimed at Lu Ling, she would have had the chance to see her own face—a picture of utter bewilderment. FEVER had once been her entire pride and her greatest ideal, but as time passed and she heard its name mentioned again, her first instinct was actually to deny it.
To deny that FEVER had ever existed, and to deny that she had ever lived through those unrestrained, vibrant midsummer years.
Fortunately, this was the filming site of a program. Even if Ji Yao wanted to confirm her suspicions, she had to let it drop for the time being.
Recovering her senses, Lu Ling lowered her head and took a deep breath. When she looked up again, Lin Que was watching her—the blend of azure sky and golden light behind her looked like the wings of an angel.
Lin Que stood with her arms crossed, gazing at her calmly, as if asking: What’s wrong?
—Were you bullied?
Lu Ling was momentarily dazed. Before her brain could process a second confirmation, her body moved instinctively; she raised her hand slightly and waved it at Lin Que—No, I wasn’t bullied.
Lin Que’s brows knitted slightly; she clearly didn’t believe it.
Lu Ling glanced around to ensure no one was watching her, then silently retreated to the very edge of the production crew. She mouthed to Lin Que: “I’m really okay.”
—Fine then.
Lin Que withdrew her gaze and gave a casual shrug.
Ren Hui had actually seen everything, but she was kind enough to say nothing.
Her eyes darted around, and she pulled a staff ID from her bag, beckoning to Lu Ling: “Young lady, come here for a moment.”
Lu Ling pointed to herself, hesitated, and then walked over to receive the ID Ren Hui handed her—Photography.
“We might have to trouble you to help us out for a while.”
Ren Hui had “smiling eyes” and was always beaming, resembling a kind calico cat from a healing anime. Lu Ling was clearly hoodwinked by this “kindness.”
After offering her thanks, Lu Ling excitedly hung the badge around her neck—a fresh “beast of burden” always enthusiastically puts on her own harness.
Having witnessed the entire process, Lin Que helplessly pressed a hand to her forehead.
Noticing this, Xie Qizhi patted her shoulder and said comfortingly, “At least the girl looks pretty happy.”
Lu Ling was indeed in high spirits. She summarized the reason simply: She hadn’t been kicked out.
Lin Que sighed softly: “I hope we can be as happy as she is for the next fifteen days.”
—Being used for free labor and still happily putting on the harness.
Xie Qizhi smiled at those words and pressed her palms together: “I think we definitely will be.”
Just as she finished speaking, a commotion broke out at the back of the production crew. Two girls emerged carrying something covered in a black cloth.
“Three, two, one—”
Whoosh!
The black cloth was pulled away, revealing a giant, hand-crafted spinning wheel.
Upon closer inspection, the wheel was divided into twelve sections, including but not limited to: Spinning like an elephant 20 times, singing the full version of “Tibetan Plateau” a cappella, speaking in Doraemon’s voice, etc. The sections were distributed by difficulty and absurdity; the “Straight to Success” slot was estimated to be only half the width of an adult woman’s pinky finger.
“Now, everyone, please look to the left,” Ren Hui said with a radiant smile, pointing to a detached house. “That house is fully equipped with living facilities. Since there are four of you, I’ll conduct a small survey before the task officially begins.”
“Please raise your hand if you can accept sharing a room.”
Silence—
“Ah… this makes things quite tricky,” Ren Hui said the word “tricky,” but the corners of her mouth under her hat were already curling up to her ears. “The first game: The Room Scramble.”
Mo Li adjusted the sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, glanced at the giant wheel behind her, and spoke her first words since the show began: “We just spin this wheel?”
“No,” Ren Hui said. “First, you’ll play Rock-Paper-Scissors. The winner chooses someone from the group to spin the wheel for them. Meanwhile, the others must turn around. Once a person receives their task, they enter the house. After everyone is in position, the game officially begins. The first to complete their task gets first pick of the rooms.”
Chu Man frowned slightly: “A room that’s been picked can’t be picked by anyone else, right?”
“There’s no such rule.”
Chu Man laughed out of frustration: “Then what’s the point of all this tossing and turning?”
Before Ren Hui could speak, Xie Qizhi, proving to be the best-tempered person on set, stepped in to smooth things over for the crew with a smile: “It wouldn’t be fun if we didn’t do anything.”
Chu Man exhaled, still unconvinced but silent. Mo Li put her sunglasses back on; though the lenses were pitch black, Lu Ling could still tell she was rolling her eyes.
At Xie Qizhi.
Combined with the history between the two, Lu Ling grew curious: What kind of deep-seated grudge do these two have?
“Well, let’s start,” Lin Que said. “Rock-Paper-Scissors?”
“Yeah.”
Xie Qizhi was the supportive peacemaker; Chu Man had her grievances with Lin Que, but wouldn’t let them affect the show; the same went for Mo Li.
After the game, the order was Mo Li, Chu Man, Xie Qizhi, and finally Lin Que.
Lin Que looked at her hand and clicked her tongue—not only was she last, but she was also the first one whose order was determined.
The corners of Lu Ling’s mouth lifted slightly.
Lin Que was never good at this game; when they were kids, she was always the one “seeking” in Hide-and-Seek.
Watching them, Lu Ling couldn’t help but smile—the way they were clearly reluctant yet still worked hard was strangely adorable.
There were conflicts between the four of them, but they needed to cooperate for the sake of work.
Over the next seven days, would the conflicts resolve or continue? Would they form alliances or engage in the “catfights” that most people secretly anticipated but never voiced?
The show’s development was like Schrödinger’s cat.
“Hmm…”
Mo Li took off her sunglasses, her signature phoenix eyes sweeping nonchalantly over everyone. For a moment, her gaze met Lu Ling’s, making Lu Ling freeze, but Mo Li’s eyes moved on before she could react.
She squinted at Ren Hui, tilted her head slightly, and said slowly, “Can I choose someone from outside the cast?”
For the first time, Ren Hui was stunned: “Huh?”
Ignoring her, Mo Li pulled out her phone and dialed a number. Placing it to her ear, she glanced at Ren Hui’s expression and gave an innocent shrug: “You didn’t say it had to be one of the people present just now.”
“Besides,” she smiled, a cunning glint in her eyes like a clever red fox, “you said it yourself—this show has no rules.”
“But—”
“Hello?”
Before Ren Hui could finish, Mo Li made a shushing gesture and turned away, walking out of the camera’s frame to a spot neither too close nor too far from Lu Ling.
The person on the phone probably didn’t understand Chinese; Mo Li spoke to her entirely in English. As she spoke, the hand hanging at her side unconsciously clenched and relaxed, as if she were afraid the person on the other end would refuse her request. Sure enough—”Why?”
Mo Li’s tone became unintentionally aggrieved.
Like a little fox with its ears drooping.
The person on the phone remained silent, and Mo Li didn’t speak either. They were in a silent standoff until, finally, the person on the phone yielded first—
Mo Li returned to the camera’s view. Standing before the wheel, she asked Ren Hui, “She will tell you a number. I’ll count from the current position of the pointer to the number she says. Is that okay?”
Ren Hui looked at Ji Yao, who pondered for a moment before nodding.
There was nothing wrong with what Mo Li was doing. If rules were only meant to be followed or messed with within their boundaries, it would be too boring and lose the original intent of the program. Mo Li was very smart; she fully understood their purpose and was brave enough to be the first to “eat the crab” (try something new).
“Alright—the other three teachers, please turn around.”
Mo Li handed the phone to Ren Hui. When Ren Hui took it, Lu Ling clearly heard the voice on the other end—a woman’s voice, gentle and calm.
Ren Hui nodded, stood up to return the phone to Mo Li, and whispered the number the person had said: 9.
Mo Li was momentarily stunned. A fleeting emotion—perhaps loneliness or bitterness—melted into the sea breeze.
She counted nine slots. After confirming her task, she looked at Ren Hui in disbelief: “This is insane.”
Ren Hui smiled innocently. Xie Qizhi, with her back turned, cooperatively reacted: “What is it? What is it?”
“—Teachers, you may turn around now.”
Chu Man and Xie Qizhi chose Ren Hui and Ji Yao, respectively. When it was Lin Que’s turn, Lu Ling’s hands clenched instinctively—Will she choose me?
She probably will, right?
It’s fine if she doesn’t—wait, why does she care so much if Lin Que chooses her?
What difference—or loss—would it make to her?
“—I’ll go with this photography teacher.”
Ding—
Lu Ling looked up. Lin Que was gazing at her, a slight smile on her lips: “Photography teacher?”
“Ah… oh.”
Lu Ling lowered her head again, tugged her hat down, and walked through the crowd to the spinning wheel.
“Then… I’m going to spin?”
Lin Que smiled and shrugged indifferently: “Go ahead.” She looked at Ren Hui. “I’m the only one left. Do I still need to turn around?”
Ren Hui: “Whichever you prefer.”
“But facing one’s fate directly can be a bit cruel.”
Lin Que exhaled, crossed her arms, and stared at the wheel without much concern, saying airily, “No big deal. My luck has always been pretty good—”
Before the words were out, Lu Ling finally finished her mental preparation and spun the wheel with all her might.
One rotation, two, three…
The wheel slowed down. Lin Que’s breathing also slowed, and Lu Ling, standing closest to the wheel, held her breath—
As it neared the “Straight to Success” slot, the wheel slowed further. Lin Que unconsciously gripped her elbows—
Click—
The pointer stopped on the “Straight to Success” slot. Lu Ling’s eyes widened suddenly. At the moment, she looked toward Lin Que—Squeak—
A breeze picked up, and Lu Ling turned her back.
The scent of citrus and mint mingled with the damp sea breeze. Lin Que blocked half the sunlight hitting Lu Ling. She stood by her side, leaning in toward the wheel. On the sand, their long shadows intertwined as if in an embrace.
“Eat three ice creams,” Lin Que said slowly, looking down at Lu Ling. “That doesn’t seem too hard?”
Lu Ling looked up sharply, the light in her eyes instantly reignited—Lin Que could eat a double portion of ramen by herself without a problem; what were a mere three ice creams!
Thank goodness.
She hadn’t held her back.
Lin Que breathed a sigh of relief. After entering the house, the three women were each occupying a part of the living room. Seeing her enter, Xie Qizhi waved enthusiastically—
If she hadn’t been holding a “Torchbearer” ice cream that she had already eaten half of, Lin Que would have certainly responded with the same enthusiasm.
Her game was over before it even began.