Tangerine
To no one’s surprise, the livestream crashed.
What was unexpected, however, was that the social media platform itself—which hadn’t seen a server failure in years—crashed along with it. Everyone who had been busy all day finally gained a moment of true rest.
Lu Ling stood at the very back of the production crew while the photographer beside her adjusted the equipment. She kept her head down like an ostrich, the brim of her hat casting a shadow that hid her shifting gaze, though the flush on the tips of her ears remained exposed.
Her thumb rhythmically picked at the side of her phone. The photographer kept glancing at Lu Ling out of the corner of her eye—or more accurately, her gaze kept darting between Lu Ling and Lin Que. Finally, she couldn’t help herself.
“Hey,” she whispered.
Lu Ling noticed her sleeve being tugged twice and looked over. The woman leaned in, lowering her voice: “Is Lin Que’s way of saying thanks always… like that?”
Lu Ling froze. Her lips moved, but the words died in her throat.
She actually hasn’t forgotten that scene from just now?
Lu Ling looked toward Lin Que. That kiss was just a kiss. There was no ulterior motive.
“—I’m so hungry.”
Lu Ling snapped back to reality and instinctively scanned the room for food. Her eyes landed on the tangerines in the fruit bowl on the coffee table, but before she could speak, Lin Que’s voice rang out again. Lin Que picked up a packet of Tom Yum soup base and consulted the others: “Tom Yum?”
Mo Li raised an eyebrow, sounding surprised. “You know how to cook?”
Lin Que nodded.
Lu Ling was also surprised. Chu Man, however, seemed unphased. She looked at Mo Li and said, “It’s a survival skill.”
“When I was a kid on set, my mom would always follow me. Back then, I didn’t have to worry about what to eat,” Chu Man frowned, her tone turning heavy. “After I turned eighteen and went to a set without her for the first time… I learned how to cook.”
Xie Qizhi smiled at the remark. Mo Li’s gaze flickered briefly toward Xie Qizhi before looking away, her voice flat. “I usually don’t turn on the stove. If I do, it’s just to sear beef or boil chicken breast.”
Chu Man’s eyes immediately filled with sympathy. Given they were on camera, she settled for a light pat on Mo Li’s shoulder. Pity or venting was meaningless for celebrities standing before a lens; there were plenty of people in the world, far more exhausted, living lives much harder than those restricted by “weight management.” Besides, this “suffering” was part of their job description.
Chu Man turned her gaze and froze when she saw Lin Que. At some point, Lin Que had pulled ingredients from the fridge, and the counter was now piled with various meats.
Noticing the stare, Lin Que tilted her head slightly. “Are you a vegetarian?”
“No,” Chu Man said bluntly. “Aren’t you about to start a new project? I remember that role requires a very gaunt appearance.”
“Ah, you mean Long Night?” Lin Que tore open a bag of beef, her eyes bright and her expression cheerful. “That project fell through ages ago—and honestly, I felt something was wrong with it from the start.”
Lin Que leaned an arm on the counter, resting the tip of her knife against the cutting board. “The story is set during the end of a dynasty. I play a princess of the former court. For a character to survive the collapse of one dynasty and stir up trouble in the next, she couldn’t be frail. She might lose an arm or a leg, but she wouldn’t be excessively thin. If she were that emaciated, she wouldn’t have survived that long in the first place.”
“That makes sense, but—”
Chu Man didn’t finish the sentence. She just gave Lin Que a pointed look from head to toe. You still thinned yourself down to this state for that role.
Lu Ling couldn’t help but feel tense. Lin Que simply smiled, letting the topic drop as if she hadn’t caught Chu Man’s subtext.
Lu Ling frowned unconsciously. In her peripheral vision, Ren Hui was still adjusting the equipment. Was it because they weren’t sure when the livestream would resume? When they first started filming, Lu Ling thought the “unannounced livestream” gimmick was interesting, but now it felt inexplicably irritating.
She wanted to know Lin Que’s true thoughts so badly. She wanted to be closer to her—closer, just like the twelve years they had spent together day and night.
“—Alright, we’re back up.”
Lu Ling exhaled in relief and took the initiative to grab the phone used for the stream. “I’ll do it.”
“Okay.”
Ren Hui watched her walk away, then looked at Ji Yao. Ji Yao gave a non-committal shrug. As Lin Que’s assistant, Lu Ling had focused solely on Lin Que since the room assignment task, acting as if no one else existed. She placed the phone on the kitchen counter.
Once the device was fixed in place, Lu Ling stood up, and Lin Que happened to look right at her. Their eyes met and quickly darted away, a brief, fleeting contact.
The kitchen was an open layout. Lin Que stood behind the counter, holding the Tom Yum packet and scanning the instructions. When she reached the bottom and saw “Shelf life: 6 months,” she flipped the bag over to check the production date. Her eyes paused for a moment, then she laughed and looked at Ren Hui.
“Director.” Lin Que waved her over.
A confused Ren Hui adjusted her mask and stepped into the frame. After seeing the date on the packet, she froze, her eyes widening. Lin Que smiled innocently, holding the packet in one hand while tapping the counter with the fingers of the other.
“This soup base has expired. Aren’t we being a bit too frugal?”
It was a stroke of luck that Mo Li knew nothing of cooking and had failed her task.
Xie Qizhi was the fastest to react. Before Ren Hui could confess, she lunged for the fridge and hauled all the ingredients into the kitchen. Mo Li and Chu Man, sitting on the sofa, didn’t quite grasp what was happening at first but followed her in anyway. The four of them stood before Ren Hui like a defensive squad.
“Thank you for the donation of ingredients, Director!”
The viewers in the livestream figured it out instantly.
【Wait, are those the crew’s dinner ingredients?】
【Hahaha, she’s so sharp! Even the mask can’t hide the Director’s ‘deer in headlights’ face.】
【Is the packet Lin Que is holding a prop from the last round? Hahaha】
“No, no, no, no…” Ren Hui’s brain worked at high speed, her posture becoming humble. “I admit the soup base was our mistake, but—well, nothing bad happened, right? This wasn’t intentional, it’s just that production funds are limited—”
Before she could finish, Chu Man quoted Lin Que’s “famous” line: “If you don’t have money, don’t make a show!”
Ren Hui: “You can’t say that. Everyone knows people are going to die eventually; does that mean we shouldn’t live right now?”
The atmosphere in the chat grew even more hilarious.
Lu Ling looked at Lin Que. Lin Que sat in the center, legs crossed, arms folded. She gave a slight nod. Lu Ling followed her gaze—it was the tangerines in the fruit bowl.
She hadn’t taken her Vitamin C today.
Memories of that night flooded back along with the contents of the files. Lu Ling turned around to look for the black bag containing Lin Que’s essentials. Before she could find it, she heard Xie Qizhi shout, “What if our Mo-Mo had succeeded in her task?”
“Or did you just assume from the start that we’d fail?”
Ren Hui hesitated—it was true the tasks weren’t designed for them to succeed. She kept her posture subservient, leaning forward slightly. “I admit this was our fault, and we’re willing to accept the consequences. Since the accident didn’t turn into a real disaster… we didn’t set a dinner task for you guys, right?”
Having said that, Ren Hui looked at Mo Li, her hands practically clasped in prayer.
Mo Li crossed her arms, tapping her elbow with a long, slender finger. She asked the crucial question: “No dinner task… so does that mean there’s a sleeping task or a breakfast task?”
Ren Hui answered honestly: “There’s a breakfast task.”
Mo Li nodded. “Cancel the breakfast task.”
Xie Qizhi immediately added, “And compensate us with Shell Coins. Even a startup needs seed capital.”
Ren Hui was exasperated but, being in the weaker position, tried to reason with them. “Ladies, a founder’s seed capital has to be earned through hardship. Even top students in the Gaokao had to grind through mountains of practice exams, right?”
Lin Que interrupted expressionlessly. “I was a direct admission. No ‘mountain of exams’ for me.”
Ren Hui: “Huh?”
“Besides,” Lin Que shrugged, “who takes the Gaokao just for the sake of the exams? Currently, we can get something for nothing. Why should I still work for it?”
The bullet comments:
【Same world, same dream.】
【Is Lin Que always this funny? Hahaha】
【Replying to above: Little Lin has always been this smart, witty, and beautiful!!】
Holding the phone, Lu Ling couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. Ji Yao heard her and looked over. Their eyes met, and Lu Ling quickly looked down, shuffling a bit further away.
“Ladies, let’s be reasonable…” Ren Hui said. “How about this? No more negotiating. Let’s do a ‘Life or Death’ round. If you win, all these ingredients are yours, the breakfast task is canceled, and everyone gets Shells. If we win, you just give the ingredients back. Deal?”
Lin Que shook her head. “It looks like we win big, but you don’t actually lose anything.”
Provoked by the challenge, Ren Hui ignored Ji Yao’s attempt to stop her and waved her hand grandly. “Fine! If we lose, the entire production crew will sleep on the beach for the duration of the shoot!”
The head of the photography crew looked up sharply, his voice cracking from the shock. “What are you saying?!”
The mood was set. Xie Qizhi was the first to seal the deal: “Done!”
Mo Li rolled her eyes but didn’t object. Neither did Lin Que. It wasn’t a loss of logic; strong conflict was the best way to drive audience engagement. Chu Man understood this, too.
And so, a strange yet somehow logical “bet” began.
Lu Ling decisively turned off the livestream. The best content had to be saved for the official episode.
To fit the theme, the game was purely “up to fate”—a Jenga-style block-pulling game. It was four guests against eleven crew members. Ren Hui, under the banner of “fairness,” had Ji Yao handle the camera (not playing). The remaining ten played Rock-Paper-Scissors to see who would join the guest team. Lu Ling was assigned to the guests.
The start was easy, but by the sixth round, the photography lead took a risky move, leaving the “tower” supported by only a single block. The player for the guests this round was Lin Que.
Standing behind Lin Que, Lu Ling’s hands clenched involuntarily.
“Photographer.” Lin Que turned her head and looked at her.
Lu Ling froze, pointing to herself.
Lin Que nodded with a radiant smile. “Which one should I pull? Give me some advice.”
Lu Ling stared at her. What if you lose because of me?
Lin Que stood there amidst the cameras and lights. In her eyes, Lu Ling could see a tiny reflection of herself.
It doesn’t matter. It’s just a game.
Lu Ling lowered her eyes, her clenched hands relaxing. If we lose because of me, the show’s effect might even be better. But… is she using me? If she is, and we lose, how will she feel toward me? Relief or guilt?
And what if we win?
Thinking of this, a spark of excitement rose in Lu Ling. She leaned in, carefully studying the structure of the “tower.” Suddenly, her gaze fixed on a specific spot.
“Lin—”
A faint scent of mint enveloped her from behind like an invisible veil. Lin Que was right beside her. They were at the same height, and in Lu Ling’s peripheral vision, everything else vanished. Lin Que leaned against the table, their shadows falling on the floor—two figures close together, creating a small, breathless enclosure.
“This one?” Lin Que followed her gaze and asked.
Lu Ling tried to steady her breathing. The scent of mint and citrus filled her lungs. She had no choice but to hold her breath and nod.
Before she could finish the sentence with “But—”, Lin Que picked up the small hammer and decisively struck the block.
The “tower” shuddered.
The sound of the waves carried the salty sea breeze as everyone stared at the blocks. Lu Ling held her breath, her hands at her sides, clenching tight. The tower swayed left and right, deforming, but it remained standing.
The outcome of the game was clear.
Unsurprisingly, the livestream became a trending topic.
Meanwhile, on the beach, the three guests and the crew members who had been grouped with them watched as Ren Hui and the others methodically prepared for their sudden “camping trip.” It was a lively scene.
Mo Li watched them for a while before she couldn’t help but ask, “Are you really sleeping here tonight?”
Ren Hui looked at her, not at all discouraged by the loss. She nodded with full energy. “Of course. A bet is a bet.”
As soon as she said it, she felt a chill down her spine. “Oh, come on, guys! This makes for great TV!”
Mo Li’s eyes flickered. She hesitated before saying, “Actually, once filming ends, you could just go back to the hotel—”
“We can’t do that,” the photography lead said with a bright smile. “You can’t fool the audience like that. That’s not why we’re making this show.”
Ren Hui nodded, smoothing things over. “Thanks for the offer of a ‘backdoor,’ Mo-Mo.” She paused. “I hope you’ll have another moment of soft-heartedness for me tomorrow.”
“Hahaha…” Mo Li nodded. “I hope so too.”
The atmosphere on the beach was peaceful. Lu Ling looked around. Lin Que was gone. The light in the second-floor bedroom was on.
Is she on the phone with Shen Yuchu? Why do they have to talk every day?
Lu Ling looked away, turning her body as a tightness filled her chest. Her toe aimlessly kicked at the sand. “Cough, cough…”
Tears blurred her vision; she couldn’t tell if the dim yellow light was from the moon or the bedroom window. Lu Ling lowered her hand, her sleeve brushing against her bag.
Lin Que hadn’t taken her supplements today. And the tangerines in the living room were still untouched.