The recording for the first observation room session was set in a studio located in the western suburbs.
Gu Xingzhi, the host, arrived first. At thirty-eight years old and a former news anchor, his industry nickname was “The Scalpel.” His questions were fast, sharp, and steady, hitting the vital point every single time. It was said that those who had been interviewed by him either became his friends or developed psychological trauma. Today, he wore a dark gray sweater, held a black-covered notebook in his hand, and nodded in greeting to every staff member before taking his seat.
Qin Hua rushed in right on the dot. At forty-two years old and a former comedian, his voice arrived before he even sat down: “Old Gu! Did you watch the preview episode? Did you watch it? Did you watch it? I stayed up shipping them until 2:00 AM last night, and my wife said I was laughing like a fox that stole a chicken!”
“I watched it,” Gu Xingzhi said, turning a page in his notebook. “And I even took notes.”
“You are taking notes on this too?!”
“Professional habit.”
Qiao Zhi curled up in a lazy boy in the corner, clutching a tablet. At twenty-four years old, she was an intern producer and the Generation Z bullet-commentary spokesperson whom the production team had intentionally placed in the observation room to translate internet slang for the seniors. At that moment, she was nervously biting her fingernails: “Um, teachers, I have organized the selected bullet comments. We can—”
“Relax,” Gu Xingzhi said. “Your role today is not producer; it is audience representative.”
The family and friends section entered next. Sheng Lan, the manager of the Best Actress group, wore a black suit and was a master in the realm of sharp tongues. Gan Tang, the close personal assistant of the rising-star group, wore a smiling expression and allegedly held the thickest notebook of contradictory true evidence in the entire entertainment circle. Ji Tong, a senior partner in the legal group, wore gold-rimmed glasses and remained reticent, with the production team positioning him as someone who only delivers a finishing strike at the crucial moment.
The last to enter was Meng Xiang.
At forty-one years old, she was a university professor in the provincial capital, wearing a light caramel-colored knitted cardigan with a gentle demeanor. Her self-introduction was simple: “I am Yi Junling’s cousin, Meng Xiang. My mother is her aunt.” She paused, then added, “As for Zhang Qinglan, based on family relations, I suppose I should call her brother-in-law.”
Qin Hua keenly caught something: “Did you stutter just now?”
“No,” Meng Xiang replied with an airtight smile. “I just feel that using the word brother-in-law still requires a bit of psychological preparation.”
“Why?”
“Because I am five years older than this brother-in-law.”
The entire room paused for a second before bursting into laughter. Qin Hua patted the sofa armrest: “Wait, the omega older sister is seven years older than the alpha, and you, the family representative, are five years older than the alpha. Let me sort out the age relationships in this pair first—”
“You will not be able to sort it out,” Meng Xiang waved her hand and added with a smiling, sharp remark, “That is why I came up with a title for myself long ago: Little Brother-in-Law. Adding the word little to a brother-in-law who is five years younger than me makes it smooth to say and smooth to ship.”
“You are shipping your own older sister and brother-in-law?” Qin Hua widened his eyes.
“I am,” Meng Xiang admitted cleanly and decisively. “I am leading the ship. I have been shipping them for six years, ever since they started dating. Today, I finally have an organization to take me in.”
Qiao Zhi nodded frantically in the lazy boy: “Teacher Meng, the super-topic has 130,000 members now. You could be the host.”
“I already have a position,” Meng Xiang said with a straight face. “Xiangcheng Chapter of the Grassroots Fan Club. The president is my mother.”
The whole room roared with laughter, rolling about in amusement. Gu Xingzhi’s lips curved upward as well, but he quickly brought the topic back: “Meng Xiang, seriously, what are these two like in real life? Are they the same as in front of the camera?”
Meng Xiang thought about it for a moment.
“What you saw in the preview episode,” she said, “is the toned-down version.”
“The toned-down version?!”
“Mhm.” She picked up her teacup and said leisurely, “Normally at home, the way Zhang Qinglan looks at my sister is even stickier than in the preview episode. The ways my sister teases her are even more numerous than in the preview. The production team has to protect the audience, so they always have to edit some out; otherwise, the main episodes would not be able to air.”
Qin Hua let out a wail: “This is just the preview episode! With the remaining eleven episodes plus the finale, what am I going to do about my blood sugar?!”
“Never mind that,” Meng Xiang picked up her teacup and steadily added, “At least in our family, age has never been an issue.”
Her words carried deep meaning. Gu Xingzhi lifted his eyelids to look at her, his pen tip pausing on the notebook without pressing further.
The preview episode began playing on the big screen.
When it reached the pre-interviews comparison segment, Qin Hua was the first to break: “Company arrangement and How wonderful my lover is edited together—production team, have some human decency! Does Zhang Qinglan know she lost this badly?”
Qiao Zhi raised her hand softly: “Teacher Qin, the bullet comments say Teacher Zhang did not lose; it is an incompatibility in the language system of love.”
“Well said!”
Sheng Lan crossed her arms, her tone cool: “I do not think it is necessarily incompatibility. One treats emotions like writing an academic thesis, while the other writes academic theses like love letters. Just wait, you all will be crying later.”
Ji Tong pushed up his glasses, and the room quieted down to await his strike. He spoke in a measured, unhurried manner: “I only have one question: blind date.”
The screen happened to freeze on the frame where Zhang Qinglan said, “A blind date, the fifth day of the first lunar month.”
“These two people, one 43 and the other 36, have been married for five years,” Ji Tong said. “Tracing back, when they went on their blind date, one was around 36 and the other around 29. A 36-year-old-ish omega professor and a 29-year-old-ish alpha scientist. Everyone, who arranged this blind date setup? And why was it arranged?”
The studio fell silent for a moment.
“My aunt… my mother arranged it,” Meng Xiang naturally picked up. “Did I not say earlier? My mother is her aunt.”
“Auntie arranged it all by herself?” Ji Tong pressed further. “Were both sides that eager and willing?”
Meng Xiang smiled without answering.
Gu Xingzhi’s gaze lingered on her face for two seconds before he suddenly spoke: “It looks like Meng Xiang has something to say?”
The gazes of the entire room swiveled over in a flash.
Holding her teacup, Meng Xiang looked at the frozen face on the big screen—Zhang Qinglan sitting straight, looking as solemn as if she were taking an oath when she said the words blind date. She looked at it for a long time, then shook her head.
“No,” she said, her voice very soft. “I just think it is rather nice.”
Gu Xingzhi did not press further. He lowered his head and wrote the first line of the day in his black notebook. As the camera swept past, only half a sentence could be caught:
“Blind date setup is questionable. The waters running beneath this are deeper than they appear.”
As the preview episode drew to a close, it showed the backs of the two people standing at their doorway seeing off the production team. An off-white long dress and an off-white knitted cardigan, one tall and one short, with shoulders pressed close together.
Qin Hua suddenly remarked with emotion: “Have you guys noticed? From beginning to end, Zhang Qinglan’s standing position is always half a step behind Yi Junling’s, standing sideways, like—”
“A dog-type bodyguard,” Qiao Zhi blurted out, only realizing the occasion afterward, her face flushing red. “That is what the bullet comments said! The exact words from the bullet comments!”
The studio burst into laughter. Gan Tang clutched her informant notebook and rarely took the initiative to speak: “Let me add an observation. In the segment in the preview episode where they packed their luggage, Teacher Yi did not touch the suitcases from start to finish, but every single piece of clothing Zhang Qinglan folded was taken out of the wardrobe by Teacher Yi the night before and draped over the back of a chair. Pay attention to the chair backs; there were seven or eight sets draped, according to the number of days.”
Qiao Zhi frantically rewound to look, and after watching, she drew a sharp breath: “Really! Sister Gan Tang, are your eyes microscopes?!”
“So, this is a division of labor where one is responsible for deciding, and the other is responsible for executing,” Sheng Lan summarized coolly. “Just like the pair at my house. The decision-making power is up top, and the physical labor is down below—and the one down below does it willingly and cheerfully.”
“Willingly and cheerfully,” Qin Hua savored these eight words, then suddenly slapped his thigh. “I suggest making these eight words the super-topic introduction!”
Amidst the laughter, Gu Xingzhi slowly brought things to a conclusion:
“Everyone, preview episodes always show the best side. But having done interviews for over a dozen years, there is one thing I am certain of—”
He closed his notebook.
“Affection that can be faked cannot last past twelve episodes. Those that survive are ground out inch by inch through daily life. Which kind this pair belongs to, we shall watch and see slowly.”