The digital world was currently a battlefield of frantic apologies and viral memes. As Chen Ying’s team began their leisurely descent from the hill, the live-stream comments were moving so fast they were almost unreadable.
The "Idol’s Final Testament"—the clip of Chen Jue weeping about his "demise" to a garden snake—had already been remixed into a dozen different trending tracks.
[User ’LogicFirst’: "I am literally crying at my desk. Chen Jue apologized to a blade of grass and revealed the biggest plot twist of the season in the same breath. 10/10 for accidental drama."]
[User ’Jue’sWife’: "Wait, so Chen Ying is the *actual* sister? The one Wang Bai spent weeks implying she was? My head hurts. She really had us all brainwashed. We owe the Ice Queen a massive apology."]
[User ’TeaSpiller’: "Look at the way Jue is following her now. He looks like a kitten that just realized it was following a wolf instead of its mom. He’s so embarrassed, I can’t breathe. This is the best face-slapping of 2026."]
Back on the island, the atmosphere was significantly quieter, though no less intense. Following the "Golden Ticket" victory, Director Zhao had announced a free afternoon for the Highland team to enjoy their premium rations. While the Lowland team was left to scavenge for wild vegetables in the fading light.
Chen Jue sat on the edge of the camp, his bandaged arm resting awkwardly in his lap. The adrenaline had long since faded, replaced by a crushing weight of humiliation that felt heavier than the humidity. He kept sneaking glances at Chen Ying, who was currently kneading a simple dough using the flour from the prize crate. She moved with a mesmerizing efficiency, her sleeves pushed up to reveal lean, capable forearms.
Every time she looked in his direction, Chen Jue would immediately snap his head away, staring intensely at a nearby fern as if it were the most interesting plant in existence. He was exactly like a stray cat—curious and desperate for the warmth of the fire, but terrified of being hissed at or shooed away.
"If you keep twisting your neck like that, Chen Jue, you’re going to need a second bandage for muscle strain," Chen Ying said without looking up from the dough. Her voice wasn’t warm, but it lacked the razor-edge of her usual sarcasm.
Chen Jue jumped, his face flushing that familiar, bright red that tended to trend on social media. "I—I wasn’t looking! I was just... checking the perimeter. For snakes. Safety first. You know, as the only one here with... experience."
Zhou Yaya, who was busy sorting the fresh eggs into a safe container, let out a bright, genuine giggle. "It’s okay to be a fan, Jue-jie. We all are. You should have seen her face-off with the bear."
"I’m not a fan! I’m her... I’m her brother," he muttered, the word *brother* still feeling heavy and strange on his tongue after so much time spent in a delusional fog. He shifted an inch closer to the fire, his movements hesitant and jerky.
To his surprise, Wu Haoran tossed him a clean rag and a bucket of river water. "Hey, ’Little Brother,’ don’t just sit there looking like a kicked puppy. If you want to eat the fresh food tonight, you have to help stoke the fire and clean the prep stones. Zixuan is busy with the tent reinforcements."
The casual acceptance hit Chen Jue harder than any insult ever could. In the Lowland, every interaction was a transaction—a plea for luck, a complaint about hunger, or a performative sob. Here, he was being treated like a person.
"I can do that," Chen Jue said, his eyes brightening. He grabbed the wood, his "Global Idol" persona completely discarded in favor of trying to earn his place in this small, strange family. By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, the Highland team had silently moved him from the "guest" category into their inner circle.
As the smell of hot food began to fill the air, the aroma was almost intoxicating. Chen Jue’s stomach growled audibly, but his mind kept drifting back to the ridge. He remembered the way Wang Bai had looked—sallow, desperate, and shivering. Despite the "Lotus Fog" being shattered, a small, lingering part of his old self felt a twinge of pity. He didn’t love her anymore—the realization of her abandonment had seen to that—but he didn’t want to see her starve to death in the dirt.
He approached Chen Ying as she was portioning out the evening meal. He stood a few feet away, fidgeting with the hem of his windbreaker. "Yingying?"
"Speak," she replied, her voice as cool as the evening breeze.
"I... I know what she did. And I know I was a complete idiot for ever believing her," Chen Jue began, his voice dropping to a low whisper to avoid the nearest drone. "But she’s really in bad shape. They haven’t caught anything in two days, and they don’t have the stamina we do. Can I... can I take a small portion of my share to give them? Just one last time. I want to settle the debt of her ’looking after’ me when I first started in the industry. After this, I promise, I’m done. I won’t even look her way."
Chen Ying paused, her dark eyes searching his. She saw the sincerity in him—the need to close a Chapter of his life with his dignity intact. She knew that if she forbade him, the guilt would linger.
"It’s your portion, Chen Jue," she said, handing him a wrapped bundle of warm bread and a thick, savory slice of ham. "What you do with your food is your business. But remember my words: mercy is a luxury on this island. If you give it to someone who only knows how to take, don’t be surprised when your hand gets bitten. This isn’t a stage play; it’s a survival game."
"I know," he said firmly, his gaze steadying. "This is the last time. I just want to be able to sleep tonight knowing I don’t owe her anything."
Chen Jue walked to Wang Bai’s camp, the darkness of the jungle pressing in around him. He found both of them huddled around a pathetic, flickering fire that produced more smoke than heat. Wang Bai looked terrible; her hair was lank and greasy, and her skin lacked the "radiance" the artifact usually provided when she was well-fed and lucky. Zhang Rui was gnawing on a piece of charred wood, his eyes wild and sunken with hunger.
When they saw Chen Jue approaching with a steaming bundle in his hand, their reaction was visceral. They didn’t ask how his arm was. They didn’t apologize for leaving him to "die" on the ridge. They didn’t even stand up to greet him. They simply descended on him like vultures spotting a carcass.
"Jue! I knew you’d come back for me!" Wang Bai cried, her hands reaching out with desperation before he even stepped close. "I knew your heart was too kind to leave your Xiao Bai to starve!"
Chen Jue handed her the bundle, his expression unreadable. "This is from the Highland rations. Eat it. It’s the last thing I’m bringing you."
Wang Bai didn’t even hear the second half of his sentence. She tore the cloth bundle open, and the sight of the smoked ham made her eyes gleam with greed. She and Zhang Rui began shoving the food into their mouths with both hands, not even offering a crumb to Chen Jue.
"This is incredible," Zhang Rui mumbled through a mouthful of bread, crumbs falling into the dirt. He looked at Chen Jue, but there was no gratitude in his gaze—only calculation. "Listen, Jue. You’re over there now. You’ve got access to the ’Golden Ticket’ stash. They trust you because you’re her brother."
Wang Bai wiped grease from her chin with the back of her hand, her voice dropping into that familiar, manipulative purr that used to make Chen Jue’s heart melt. "He’s right, Jue. If you really care about me, you’ll help us. You know where they keep the rest of the crate, don’t you? It wouldn’t be ’stealing’... it’s just sharing with your old team. While they’re sleeping tonight, you could just... bring us a few more slices? Maybe a bag of flour? We could hide it in the bushes."
Chen Jue stood frozen, his shadow stretching long across the camp. He looked at Wang Bai—really looked at her, without the filter of the artifact’s influence. He saw the way she was already looking past him, calculating how much more she could squeeze out of his lingering guilt. There was no "sisterly love" here. There was only a bottomless pit of selfish need.
"You want me to steal from my sister?" Chen Jue asked, his voice flat and dangerously calm.
"She has so much!" Wang Bai argued, her eyes flashing with a brief, ugly resentment that she couldn’t hide. "She’s a Chen, she doesn’t know what it’s like to actually suffer. If you don’t help us, it means you never really loved me. You’re just as cold and selfish as she is. After everything I’ve done for your career..."
The final thread of the "Lotus Fog" didn’t just break; it evaporated in the heat of his disgust.
"I used to think you were a goddess," Chen Jue said, a cold, hard smile touching his lips for the first time in his life. "But you’re just a greedy person with a very loud voice and a very short memory. Enjoy the food, Xiao Bai. It’s the best meal you’re ever going to get from me. From this moment on, we are strangers."
He turned on his heel and walked away, his pace steady and fast, ignoring her shrieks of "betrayal" and "ingratitude" that echoed behind him. As he crossed back into the Highland territory, the air felt cleaner, and the weight on his chest was finally, completely gone.
He walked up to the fire and sat down next to Chen Ying. He didn’t say anything, but he leaned his shoulder slightly against hers—a shy gesture seeking warmth and reassurance.
Chen Ying didn’t move away, nor did she hug him. She simply handed him a fresh cup of hot tea. "The debt is paid?"
"Paid in full," Chen Jue replied, taking a long, grounding sip. "And the interest was a lesson I’ll never forget. I think I finally understand what you mean by ’volunteer.’"
[System: Ding! Target Chen Jue’s Brainwashing Level: 0%. Status: ’Loyal Sibling.’]
[Current Balance: 922 Points.]