After finishing breakfast and clearing the dining table, Chu Minghe thought about heading upstairs to check on Zhao Xingjian’s condition.
The moment he turned around, he bumped right into Zhao Xingjian’s cold gaze.
Chu Minghe knew that Zhao Xingjian had caught on by now. As expected of a genius figure capable of leading the Zhao family to the absolute top.
“What do you want? Money? Or resources?”
His words were utterly devoid of courtesy, cutting straight to the point.
However, since Chu Minghe indeed had a favor to ask of him, he didn’t mind the bluntness.
He led Zhao Xingjian over to the sofa, where a fruit platter he had prepared in advance was waiting.
“I want to join a reality show.”
With that, he opened the document Sister Hong had sent him yesterday and placed it on the table.
Zhao Xingjian glanced down, the words Two’s Company jumping into his sight first.
“Impossible.”
Are you kidding me right now?
If the two of them were going to appear on a show together, it should be a divorce negotiation show. A couple’s reality show like Two’s Company focused on spending time as a duo was purely designed to infuriate him.
Chu Minghe was also prepared for rejection.
He knew his approach wasn’t much better than the original owner’s, but at least he wasn’t resorting to threats and deception; otherwise, he truly would be nearing the end of his life span.
“I know you’re planning to break into the entertainment market, and this is an excellent promotional opportunity. Won’t President Zhao at least consider it?”
Chu Minghe spoke in a soft voice so soft that it sounded as though a slightly louder noise might frighten him into tears.
Instead of falling for the neat calculation Chu Minghe had laid out for him, Zhao Xingjian furrowed his brows and looked him up and down.
“Who told you about this?”
Chu Minghe tugged at his fingers, lowering his gaze slightly.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on…”
?
Keeping an eye on what?
Fortunately, Chu Minghe kept his head down, sparing him from seeing the flash of sheer astonishment on Zhao Xingjian’s face.
Thinking Zhao Xingjian hadn’t quite understood, Chu Minghe stammered with the tips of his ears flushed red: “I’ve been keeping an eye on you…”
“…”
The spacious living room plunged into absolute silence. Assistant Fang pushed open the door, keenly sensed the strange tension circulating through the air, and tactfully retreated back outside.
Recalling the mental notes he had made last night, Chu Minghe continued, “This reality show has high traffic and broad promotional reach. The guests aren’t just limited to people in the industry; they’ve also featured writers, chefs, and even pedicure specialists. We’d fit right in.”
“As long as you’ve been married to your partner for over seven years, you’re eligible to sign up. I figured if we don’t participate now, we might never get the chance.”
“Or at the very least, we’d have to wait another seven years, and by then it would be far too late. You understand the importance of timing better than I do.”
However, not only did Zhao Xingjian understand the importance of timing, but he also understood that there was no such thing as a free lunch in this world.
“And you?”
“I want to make a comeback… start acting again, and make big money.”
Clearly, Zhao Xingjian hadn’t expected Chu Minghe to be so brutally honest. He laid out exactly what he wanted and what he could bring to the table in a manner that was exceptionally plain and straightforward.
He looked nothing like the foolish idiot who had distributed their explicit photos back then like flyers for a small business.
Chu Minghe glanced sideways at him. Seeing that Zhao Xingjian was still staring, not only did his ears turn red, but his cheeks flushed crimson as well.
“…”
What is wrong with him? When he sent out those photos back then, he didn’t look anywhere near this bashful.
Chu Minghe stammered, “Won’t you… at least think about it?”
His voice was small and soft, sounding almost like he was acting spoiled. Hearing it made the hair on Zhao Xingjian’s arms stand on end, prompting him to stand up and walk right out of the house.
Assistant Fang, who had been eavesdropping outside the door, snapped straight to attention.
“President Zhao, the clothes you asked me to bring haven’t been changed yet.”
“Never mind. Bring the car around.”
Standing right where he was, Chu Minghe watched through the window as their car drove out of the villa grounds, finally letting out a breath of relief.
He had been on the verge of holding his breath until he suffocated.
Even so, Zhao Xingjian didn’t show extreme aversion to what he had proposed; clearly, he had actually listened to the suggestions.
He would consider it.
And indeed, just as Chu Minghe anticipated, Zhao Xingjian had recently been agonizing over how to break into the entertainment sector, finding all dozen or so proposals submitted by his subordinates less than ideal.
Most of them required pacing timelines of ten to twenty years, which, factoring in promotional risks, could stretch out even longer.
The reality show Chu Minghe brought up arrived at just the right time. After returning to the company and holding an emergency meeting, a preliminary plan was locked in.
That very evening, Chu Minghe received a call from Assistant Fang, informing him that Zhao Xingjian would be returning home for dinner tonight.
It sounded almost like an emperor bestowing his favor upon a concubine, but Chu Minghe was actually quite pleased he knew this meant the matter was practically set in stone.
Zhao Xingjian drove over himself. Because he had only visited that once during their wedding day, he nearly got lost halfway through.
The area was remote, and the intersecting network of roads was chaotic enough to render GPS navigation completely useless.
Noticing that an hour had passed past the eight o’clock mark mentioned by Assistant Fang, Chu Minghe finally threw on a coat and stepped outside.
The villa district was brightly lit at night, and the hazards most likely to be encountered were simply moths fluttering beneath the streetlamp covers.
With a thin outer jacket draped over his shoulders, he walked outward for two kilometers before spotting the car he had seen that morning.
Zhao Xingjian’s car slowly pulled to a halt in front of him, the window rolling down to reveal Zhao Xingjian’s furrowed brow.
“Where are you going?”
The warm yellow streetlamp illuminated Chu Minghe’s face, making him look even more striking.
That prompted Zhao Xingjian to recall the glowing praise Cheng Zhou had lavished on Chu Minghe over the phone, and he couldn’t help lingering on the sight for a few extra seconds.
Unaware of the thought, Chu Minghe lowered his gaze and replied, “I was afraid you might get lost, so I came out to check.”
“Where’s the driver? Couldn’t you have sent the driver out to look?”
“I don’t usually go out at night, so I let the driver head back after six.”
Normally, his driver was scheduled to clock off at 10:00 PM and remain on call, but since he rarely stepped out of the house, keeping the driver around was just a waste of time. Even the night before marked the first time the driver had ever been called in the middle of the night.
Zhao Xingjian studied him for a moment, detecting no hint of falsehood in that sincere expression, before gesturing for him to get in.
Without hesitation, Chu Minghe walked around and opened the passenger door.
To his surprise, after waiting for a good while without seeing him get in, Zhao Xingjian turned his head in confusion.
Chu Minghe: “Can I sit here?”
“…”
“Get in!”
Before the words had even fully left his mouth, Chu Minghe agilely slipped inside with practiced efficiency and fastened his seatbelt.
The instant the command fell, the car shot forward.
Zhao Xingjian’s mind was consumed by a single question: had this man developed schizophrenia? He was completely unrecognizable compared to ten years ago.
However, Chu Minghe didn’t give him much room to dwell on it; after all, a single Chu Minghe wasn’t as important as his company’s bottom line.
The lights inside the villa were still on, and the food on the table was still warm.
Chu Minghe ladled out two bowls of porridge, and the negotiation officially commenced.
“I need to know the specific details of the show.”
Since Zhao Xingjian had said that much, he had undoubtedly reviewed the documents sent to Assistant Fang. Asking that question wasn’t a test; he simply wanted to glean details beyond what he already knew.
Understanding this, Chu Minghe laid out everything Sister Hong had told him in meticulous detail.
Two’s Company was an exceptionally high-traffic variety show in recent years, airing once every four seasons. Because married couples and same-sex couples alternated seasons, it could effectively be treated as an eight-year cycle.
There was only a single qualification requirement to participate: the married partners must have been together for over seven years.
Each season featured a different theme. For instance, the first season’s theme was a couple’s summer by the sea, while the second season’s theme was a married couple’s winter carnival.
The upcoming season they were entering was the third, themed around an early autumn romance for married couples.
At first hearing, the theme sounded generic, akin to a short-term vacation. In reality, however, it was an exercise in apocalyptic survival relying entirely on one’s own labor to secure food and clothing.
The destination for this leg wasn’t too remote, thankfully a rural villa in City A, not too far away.
While exact recording details were impossible to predict in advance, anyone who had watched the first two seasons would know to maintain psychological preparedness.
Arriving there felt like traveling back in time to the 1970s: you cooked your own meals, harvested your own vegetables, slaughtered your own pork if you wanted meat, and dug into chicken coops yourself if you wanted eggs.
At this point, Chu Minghe paused, glancing sideways at Zhao Xingjian’s expression.
Sure enough, though he couldn’t quite call it repulsive, Zhao Xingjian clearly didn’t see the point of such an exercise.
Choosing his words carefully, he coaxed smoothly, “Think of it as a hands-on, DIY version of a countryside retreat…”
Feeling like his intelligence was being underestimated, Zhao Xingjian straightened his posture and said, “Go on.”
The show was broadcast in a live-stream format, meaning every single action would be captured and transmitted without omission. Therefore…
“You must pay close attention to your words and actions.”
It was a considerate piece of advice, though hearing it come from Chu Minghe felt profoundly bizarre.
After all, ten years ago…
Swiftly changing the subject, Chu Minghe derailed that train of thought.
“That’s all I know. The rest will depend on how the production crew arranges things.”
Zhao Xingjian got the message, and by now, his dinner had gone cold.
Taking a small sip, Chu Minghe decided it tasted fine, he had consumed plenty of cold meals back when he was frying youtiao.
Frowning, Zhao Xingjian muttered, “Did I get ripped off buying this villa? Is there seriously not a single place in this house to heat up a meal?”
A corporate president remained a corporate president; his perspective was truly unique.
Blinking, Chu Minghe’s face flushed red once more. “It’s fine, really.”
?!
Zhao Xingjian was internally horrified: Does he think I was showing concern for him? Promptly shutting his mouth, he stopped talking.
Without the periodic interruptions, Chu Minghe finished his meal in peace.
“Where are you sleeping tonight?”
Sitting through the end of Chu Minghe’s dinner without realizing it until now, Zhao Xingjian snapped back to reality upon being asked.
“I’m heading back. I’ll arrive on time for tomorrow afternoon’s recording.”
Nodding obediently, Chu Minghe stood up alongside him.
“See you tomorrow.”
After Zhao Xingjian departed, Chu Minghe finally opened his phone to message Sister Hong, confirming that everything was locked down on his end.
To his surprise, half an hour later, Sister Hong called him directly.
Once he answered, it turned into a grueling two-hour session of coercive, carrot-and-stick warnings and instructions.
He couldn’t even blame Sister Hong for nagging; his track record back then could genuinely be classified as unhinged, making worry an inevitable response.
And Sister Hong had her own reasons for choosing him.
Sister Hong was an ambitious career woman who had previously managed three artists to brief periods of stardom, only for all of them to collapse due to scandals and slide into semi-retirement.
Firmly believing she was cursed to clash with men of loose morals, Chu Minghe’s clean slate of ten marriage years without a single gossip headline allowed her to regain confidence, fueling her desire to turn a rotten peach into a sweet one.
This lined up word-for-word with the description in the original novel, making Chu Minghe almost envious of the original owner’s luck.
It was just a pity that a winning hand had been played so wretchedly, ending in a miserable finale.
Thus, he had to treat this opportunity with absolute seriousness if he wanted to completely reshape his current predicament.
Perhaps due to dwelling so much on the novel’s contents recently, he dreamed of being pinned against the wall by his throat with Zhao Xingjian’s hand clamped tightly around his windpipe.
Just as the sensation of suffocation grew agonizingly real, he jolted awake only to realize he had accidentally pulled the quilt completely over his face.
Checking the time, it was 8:00 AM. He got up, freshened up, and packed a few changes of clothes. Before long, a van pulled up right outside the gate.
Without wasting a single minute, they headed toward City A. Since their destination was in the countryside and didn’t require going deep into the urban center, the drive would take roughly four hours.
Having given all necessary instructions, Sister Hong had nothing left to add, only asking with a furrowed brow, “Where’s your husband?”
Chu Minghe offered a reassuring guarantee: “He’ll make it.”
Of course, this wasn’t strictly a matter of whether he would make it or not; Sister Hong didn’t have the bandwidth to dig into the state of their marital relationship right now.
She simply felt that having both of them appear on camera together represented the standard operational procedure for a couple’s variety show.
Even so, their primary goal wasn’t tied strictly to this show alone—as long as they could salvage Chu Minghe’s public reputation, it would count as a victory.
How he presented himself would ultimately depend on Chu Minghe’s own performance.
Meanwhile, back outside Chu Minghe’s villa.
Assistant Fang waited in the car for his boss to escort Mr. Chu down.
Five minutes later, his boss returned looking precisely as he had when he left, save for a considerably darkened complexion.
“Drive!”