The show had invited a total of eight guests. Six had arrived by now, and the director had announced before the broadcast that one was a non-celebrity who, due to work commitments, would not arrive until noon.
That left only one remaining… Zhou Zichen.
Time ticked by, second by second, the rhythmic sound of the clock seemingly stepping on everyone’s hearts.
The guests invited for this season weren’t exactly known for livening up the atmosphere; the only ones who could be considered lively were Ji Hang and Shen Ruan.
However, no one dared to approach Ji Hang, and after Shen Ruan attempted to make small talk a few times without receiving a response, he too was forced to shut his mouth in embarrassment.
The atmosphere stagnated, and gradually, voices of dissatisfaction began to rise in the live stream chat.
The location for this dating show was in the suburbs. Wen Ze, who lived in the city center where traffic was the most congested, had arrived by 8:20 AM. Yet Zhou Zichen, who also lived in the suburbs, hadn’t arrived even after the scheduled time. Was he putting on airs?
It should be noted that on this show, Zhou Zichen’s clout was by no means the highest, nor was his popularity the greatest; at most, he had just been trending recently.
The guest with the highest status was Xie Tingyan, and the one with the greatest name recognition was Ji Yun. For Zhou Zichen to be the one delaying his arrival was certainly worth talking about.
The group most enraged were Xie Tingyan’s fans.
Xie Tingyan was a young musical icon of his generation. Since his debut, he had won so many major awards that his hands were soft from carrying them; his status was absolutely indisputable. In daily life, he was known for a cold and sharp-tongued personality, never letting a point go and insisting on being right even when wrong. If it weren’t for his talent, he might have had more anti-fans than true admirers.
But they all shared one common trait: whether they were anti-fans or true admirers, their combat effectiveness was extremely potent.
Xie Tingyan’s anti-fans were essentially twisted true admirers; they only allowed themselves to criticize him, and if anyone else dared to do so, they would turn around and tear the other party apart.
The camera dedicated to Zhou Zichen remained empty. At first, his fans tried to cheer each other on, but half an hour past the time, no one could come up with an excuse to save his reputation.
Regardless of whether it was intentional or accidental, the labels of “putting on airs” and “having no sense of time” were going to be permanently affixed to Zhou Zichen’s forehead.
Xie Tingyan’s fans swarmed in, cursing Zhou Zichen to hell and back.
No one noticed that Wen Ze, sitting with his head bowed beside Qu Zheng, felt the corners of his lips curl up beneath the brim of his hat.
Since you dared to take what is mine, you should be prepared to pay the price, shouldn’t you?
This is a deal made with a demon.
It was nearly 9:30 AM before Zhou Zichen finally hurried onto the scene.
He had arrived by taxi, his clothes in disarray and his hair a mess, looking for all the world like he had just rolled out of bed.
Seeing this scene, the voices of dissatisfaction grew even louder.
Xie Tingyan, showing no mercy, went straight for the sarcasm: “Yo, Best Actor Zhou, what gentle nest did you just crawl out of? Didn’t you just break up with the boyfriend you’ve been with for years? Your ex is right here, and you’ve already found yourself a new little wild cat?”
Zhou Zichen’s complexion turned a sickly ashen, but he had no way to refute it.
He had marked today’s date, but who could have known he would bring in a “new shipment” last night? He thought it would be good to relieve some stress before the filming, so he had gone over. The new shipment was indeed hot and delicious, so it wasn’t a total loss.
He had set a time, but for some reason, the alarm hadn’t gone off, and his car had broken down, dragging things out until this point.
“My apologies, everyone.” Zhou Zichen pulled awkwardly at his collar, trying to cover the bright red hickeys and scratch marks on his neck. “I haven’t been in the best state lately. I went to a bar with some friends last night and had a few drinks, and I don’t know how I ended up like this.”
The fans of the “Best Actor” in the chat took the initiative, desperately scrubbing his reputation:
【The Best Actor is just so pitiful. He’s so heartbroken by his ex that he had to drown his sorrows in alcohol.】
【My heart aches for him! This isn’t what he wanted!】
【Exactly! Our Best Actor is usually the most professional. This must be an accident.】
While the chat was filled with fans trying to whitewash the situation, it was also mixed with mocking from all sides.
Zhou Zichen’s popularity had been so high recently, and his fans had been so arrogant, that people from all other fandoms found them repulsive. Now that there was an opportunity, they naturally didn’t mind putting the boot in.
“Tsk.”
Xie Tingyan felt Qu Zheng tug on his sleeve. Whether he believed it or not, he eventually stopped talking.
The fans in the chat went crazy:
【Ahhh, “YanQu” is real!】
【My god, Brother Xie is so doting.】
【Age-gap romance for the win!】
【Sharp-tongued top x Shy bottom, what kind of god-tier pairing is this, boohoo!】
Zhou Zichen found a seat, his face full of embarrassment. Wen Ze stepped forward, meticulously adjusting his clothes for him.
Zhou Zichen accepted it as a matter of course.
The actions of the two were so natural that it wasn’t until they finished that Zhou Zichen realized what was happening and instinctively pushed Wen Ze away.
Wen Ze stumbled a step to the side from the shove, his knee bumping against the edge of a chair. His legs went weak, and he nearly collapsed to the ground, only avoiding the disaster when Ji Yun, standing nearby, grabbed him.
Sharp-eyed viewers noticed this, instantly sniffing out that something was wrong:
【Wait a minute, isn’t Best Actor Zhou marketing himself as a devoted, loving man? Why is his shoving motion so practiced?】
【Look at Wen Ze’s instinctive reaction he must have been serving the Best Actor quite a bit, right? Are they dating, or did he hire a nanny?】
【Even if they broke up, surely the first reaction to avoiding suspicion wouldn’t be to shove someone? He must do it all the time.】
【Best Actor Zhou didn’t even go to help him up, and Wen Ze didn’t have any special reaction—they’re obviously used to it.】
Netizens were like Sherlock Holmes, their discerning eyes were spot on.
“I’m sorry.” Zhou Zichen only realized they were filming once he had finished the motion, and immediately grabbed Wen Ze’s wrist, his face full of feigned remorse. “I just wasn’t paying attention. After all, we’ve already…”
“It’s nothing.”
Wen Ze managed a forced smile, pulling his wrist from Zhou Zichen’s grip and pulling his shirt sleeves down with an indifferent expression.
Sharp-eyed netizens saw that his wrist was already circled in red.
【No, no, no—Best Actor Zhou used way too much force. Wen Ze’s wrist is red, right?】
【That apology was so perfunctory.】
【It doesn’t look like an apology; it looks like a threat.】
【If you put it that way shoving people by habit, using extreme force when grabbing them this is completely different from the gentle, thoughtful image Best Actor Zhou portrays.】
【It’s all a marketing persona. Who knows who the truly gentle one is?】
The Best Actor’s fans were nearly exploding with rage:
【It was just a bit of force, wasn’t it? I think Wen Ze is the one playing the victim!】
【Exactly! They’ve already broken up, why is he still sticking to him? What’s wrong with our Best Actor wanting to keep his distance?】
【It’s clearly Wen Ze shamelessly clinging for clout. Our Best Actor has been considerate enough as it is.】
【How many paid trolls did Wen Ze hire for everyone to be speaking up for him?】
Never mind the arguing in the comments; Zhou Zichen was thoroughly humiliated because Ji Yun had directly pulled Wen Ze to the other side.
Ji Yun frowned and whispered, “Why didn’t you know how to dodge?”
Wen Ze bowed his head and didn’t speak.
Ji Yun’s fans were cheering:
【Look, this is what real gentleness is like, our Yun-Yun.】
【Cool beauty x insecure little puppy, this is a ship I can get on board with!】
Others sighed in frustration:
【What kind of outrageous ship is this…】
【It’s just a first meeting, do you really have to? Yun-Yun isn’t that desperate to… marry.】
Ji Yun observed Wen Ze’s reaction and began to understand a little, opting to say nothing more.
With Wen Ze gone, Shen Ruan naturally squeezed his way over.
Shen Ruan liked Zhou Zichen, and his team was keen on buying “couple” trending searches with him. Plus, with Zhou Zichen’s tacit permission, their “shipping” fanbase was somewhat sizeable, and once they started interacting, the audience’s attention was instantly diverted.
In order to wait for the final non-celebrity guest, the production team simply told everyone to get to know one another and freely pair up with the teammates they wanted to work with for today’s tasks.
The rules of ‘You, The Heartbeat’ stated that guests would film three episodes, each lasting three days, for a total of nine days, with a two-day break between each episode.
The filming tasks weren’t overly intense, so missing half a day of tasks didn’t really matter.
However, aside from the third episode, the teammates for the first two episodes’ six days could not be the same, so they had to be extra cautious in their selection.
Xie Tingyan and Qu Zheng naturally had nothing to discuss and chose each other without hesitation.
One was arrogant, the other socially anxious; they didn’t even spare a glance for anyone else.
Zhou Zichen and Shen Ruan successfully paired up.
Shen Ruan was so happy he jumped up, clutching Zhou Zichen’s arm and looking at Wen Ze with pure provocation.
Zhou Zichen maintained his usual devoted persona, his dark eyes as gentle as water, looking as though he only saw Shen Ruan, which drew another massive wave of “kswl” (I’m shipping this) from the audience.
The four had successfully paired. Ji Yun looked at the two left over for him and decisively chose Wen Ze, while Ji Hang, having been isolated, was forced to pair with the mysterious guest.
He didn’t seem to care; he just played the victim to the camera not very convincingly and his fans were all “lol-ing” in the chat, looking quite carefree.
Once the pairing was successful, the atmosphere on set warmed up.
Over on Xie Tingyan’s side, they seemed to be discussing a new song. The production team didn’t dare to record the audio, keeping the camera far away, which led to a flood of complaints from fans, though it didn’t stop the shipping fans from enjoying the “sugar.”
Zhou Zichen and Shen Ruan were more professional or perhaps Shen Ruan had the intention, and Zhou Zichen was looking to salvage his image so their interactions were the most frequent.
Even though it was visibly “industrial-grade sugar,” it was enough to make the gullible fans squeal.
The situation on Wen Ze’s side was a bit strange.
He wasn’t a talkative person, and neither was Ji Yun. Yet, the two didn’t feel awkward together; instead, they were quite harmonious, possessing a sort of quiet, peaceful beauty.
However, that unlucky kid Ji Hang didn’t know what possessed him, and he squeezed right in between them.
Ji Hang was very lively and good at reading the room. Even the naturally cold Ji Yun could chat happily with him, and as for Wen Ze he nearly broke his persona.
Until Ji Hang said, “Ah-Ze, you’re too conservative. Don’t you feel hot wearing long sleeves, long pants, and a hat?”
Wen Ze understood what he was trying to do, and he was more than happy to see it happen.
Although he didn’t know when that bastard Zhou Zichen had offended this person, Wen Ze equally loved everyone who wanted to make Zhou Zichen’s life miserable.
He gave a shy smile. “Ah-Chen… Best Actor Zhou didn’t like me showing my face much before. After being together for a long time, it just became a habit.”
Ji Hang keenly sniffed the scent of gossip and immediately said, “But Ah-Ze, you’re an actor!”
An actor who doesn’t show his face, isn’t that a joke?
“Yes,” Wen Ze said, looking extremely happy. “Ah-Chen said he would provide for me and wouldn’t even let me go out to film. But I really love acting; every time I crave it, Ah-Chen specifically finds me small scripts so that I have time to take care of him!”