Zhu Lianzhen knew Tan Qing was very good at speaking in ambiguities. Often, it only took a few seconds for him to shift the atmosphere into something subtly suggestive. That, too, could be considered a kind of talent. After all, it took a certain boldness to reel people in like that.
Unfortunately, Zhu Lianzhen didn’t know Tan Qing’s weaknesses. The man had packaged himself too well; even his moments of vulnerability in private felt carefully calculated.
For example, long ago, Zhu Lianzhen had discovered that Tan Qing was ticklish, so he would occasionally poke at his waist. Tan Qing would just laugh and dodge away. But one day, when Zhu Lianzhen tried sneaking up from behind for a surprise attack, Tan Qing suddenly seemed immune—there was no reflexive reaction at all.
In truth, Tan Qing had just been caught off guard and forgotten to keep up the act.
When Zhu Lianzhen found out, he was completely baffled. After pressing him repeatedly, Tan Qing finally explained, “It seemed like you were always happy doing that, so I tried playing along.”
He said it with such a calm expression, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world—perfectly logical behavior for a normal person.
Normal? What part of that was normal? From Zhu Lianzhen’s perspective, wasn’t that just him being toyed with? He thought he was the one doing the teasing, but in the end, it had always been Tan Qing teasing him.
Zhu Lianzhen had even once suspected that Tan Qing might have been faking being bad at video games. His mechanics weren’t great, but in critical moments, he never dragged the team down. He was far better than someone like Ji Yunting, who could aim but often missed obvious cues and ended up infuriating everyone.
But after observing him multiple times, Zhu Lianzhen concluded that, at least in this area, Tan Qing was probably being genuine.
Besides how hard it was to find his weaknesses, Tan Qing’s preferences were also difficult to pin down. Zhu Lianzhen knew he often read books and watched movies, but once he finished, that was it—he never shared his thoughts, as if he were just killing time.
No, maybe it wasn’t that he had no thoughts. Maybe he just didn’t want to share them.
At least, Zhu Lianzhen had never heard him express any real sentiment.
–
A few chilly showers swept across the gray cityscape, marking the beginning of spring.
Zhu Lianzhen hadn’t expected the chance to get back at Tan Qing to come so soon.
At the break of dawn, Tan Qing had gone off as usual to record his radio program, leaving only four members in the dorm. The production staff arrived with cameras, and with them came the producer of the variety show “Celebrity Observer.”
It was probably the most popular entertainment show at the moment. The concept was simple at its core: hidden cameras. But it was far more elaborate than typical prank segments. They began setting things up days in advance, tracking celebrities’ lives and secretly testing aspects of their personalities and character.
Not every manager of an invited celebrity agreed to this kind of job, and not every guest under observation ended up with footage suitable for broadcast.
The producer had wanted to invite Acemon for a long time, feeling that their style was truly unique. Even their fans didn’t care much about outside opinions, and whenever something went wrong, the fans were always the first to lash out.
“We spoke with your manager and decided to select Tan Qing as this episode’s observation subject.”
Tan Qing had an excellent public reputation, and the directors were curious to see whether he was really the same person in private. “What kind of person do you think Tan Qing is off-camera?”
The first one asked was the leader. Ji Yunting thought it over but could only list Tan Qing’s strengths. In all his experience, Tan Qing had always been easy and comfortable to get along with. Koty had even more praise for him, speaking at length.
Since nothing juicy could be drawn out of them, the director turned to the two quieter members. “Has Tan Qing ever had any conflicts with you? Arguments, misunderstandings, cold shoulders, anything like that?”
“No.” Fu Rong didn’t even try to recall. He had the least private interaction with Tan Qing.
Zhu Lianzhen was half a beat late but gave the same answer. “Mm, I’ve never seen him angry.”
The director asked, “Then what kind of situation might make him feel down?”
Everyone thought for a while, but no one could come up with an example. Tan Qing had always worked diligently, even when the cameras weren’t rolling, and he often looked after the staff.
The directors found it hard to believe. After all, they were all adults in the entertainment industry, where drama cropped up almost daily. Celebrities, being at the center of attention, couldn’t help but show glimpses of their true selves to those around them, no matter how carefully they maintained their image or controlled their emotions.
Especially in this group, known for its poor internal relationships, shouldn’t there be some behind-the-scenes gossip?
“Well, the thing is, if we’re going to trash talk, we say it to each other’s face,” Ji Yunting explained awkwardly. “Otherwise, it doesn’t count.”
The director pulled out several pages of draft plans, listing common methods the show used to test celebrities’ reactions. “The observation period will be three to five days. First, we’ll assign a rude staff member to give him a hard time. Then, in the lounge, he’ll overhear some gossip about himself from another artist, or—”
“Those little tricks won’t faze him at all,” Zhu Lianzhen cut in flatly. “They might work on regular celebrities, but not him.”
The director quickly proposed a new idea. “Then how about putting him alone in a room with a female model? Fair-skinned, beautiful, with a sexy figure—let’s see if he makes a move. We’ll shoot close-ups of his eyes and count how many times his gaze lingers on her body. We’ve tested several male celebrities with this segment before, and… not a single one passed.”
Fu Rong, for once, jumped in. “Even if someone did pass that kind of test, wouldn’t the broadcast just make people question their sexual orientation instead? This kind of lowbrow instinct is just human nature. Flip the situation: if it was a female celebrity in a room with a male model, it’d be normal for her to sneak a few looks out of aesthetic appreciation, wouldn’t it?”
The director switched strategies again. “Okay, then how about this—Tan Qing accidentally uncovers a teammate’s secret. Based on his personality, he’d probably keep quiet, right? But what if the secret affects the group’s interests? Would he still turn a blind eye?”
Fu Rong curled his lip into a sarcastic smirk. “Like if he stumbled across a marriage certificate and found out Ji Yunting’s been secretly married for years.”
Ji Yunting refused to be outdone. “Or Tan Qing wakes up in the morning, smells blood in the house, investigates, and finds Koty’s body hidden under Fu Rong’s bed.”
Koty: “Whoa—my fans are totally gonna cyberbully you for that!”
Fu Rong: “Keep dreaming.”
Zhu Lianzhen: “Koty’s fans should be giving Fu Rong a banner that says ‘doing the public a service.’”
Only when it came to this kind of mutual roasting did the members become especially enthusiastic. Zhu Lianzhen even seriously pondered aloud, “So if things really played out that way, would Tan Qing pretend not to know? Or would he help Fu Rong bury Koty’s body?”
Koty was curious too. “Have you ever considered there’s a third option, like calling the police for me?”
As the conversation spiraled further off-track, the producer laughed and quickly reeled them back in. “Let me ask something else. What kind of punishment does your company give if an idol’s relationship gets exposed?”
Ji Yunting answered, “Work gets suspended for a while. But if it’s something like secretly getting married… then they’d probably terminate the contract.”
The producer looked a little surprised. “That strict?”
“Mm. Our boss has always been firm about this stuff. Someone from our company did that before, and it caused a major loss. Plus, Pei-jie is one of the strictest managers around. She’s extremely serious about image and reputation.”
The producer suddenly caught on. “So the former Acemon must’ve been Ms. Pei’s career setback, huh?”
His teasing made the members laugh awkwardly. The director then came up with yet another idea. “Considering the group’s reputation, if Tan Qing found out a teammate was secretly dating, he’d probably try to tactfully persuade them to break up, right? That’s what everyone would expect. So how about we make it a little more exciting—”
“What if Tan Qing accidentally finds out that two teammates are dating the same person?”
Everyone froze for half a second before bursting out laughing. The idea of making Tan Qing witness a love triangle had successfully piqued Zhu Lianzhen’s interest, and he immediately supported it. “Let’s pick Ting-ge and Koty as the teammates. This is perfect. Tan Qing won’t suspect a thing.”
Ji Yunting shook his head. “How could he not suspect anything! Koty and I have totally different types.”
“Right, then we’ll have to make the actress work a bit harder—adjust her mannerisms and style. Two completely different looks with a strong contrast,” Zhu Lianzhen suggested, quickly coming up with a solution. “As for your relationship dynamic… Koty dates the girl, and Ji Yunting acts as the ATM.”
Koty happily agreed. “That makes sense.”
Ji Yunting fumed. “That does not make sense!”
“I also think it doesn’t make sense,” Fu Rong chimed in casually. “How about adding another scene where the girl secretly confesses to Tan Qing: ‘Actually, the one I truly like is you. The other two are just tools to get close to you.’”
Everyone couldn’t help but marvel at Fu Rong’s level of deviousness. It was like how ordinary people, when faced with the trolley problem, would think about saving one or five people, but Fu Rong would find a way to make the tracks N-shaped so the trolley ran over everyone.
Zhu Lianzhen hesitated slightly, lowering his voice. “Let’s skip the confession. The girl’s character is already unlikable as it is, and getting rejected would just make things awkward.”
“What if Tan Qing agrees?” Fu Rong laughed carelessly. “Then he’s the one who’d be embarrassed afterward, wouldn’t he?”
Koty caught on and asked curiously, “By the way, what type does Kissy like? I’ve never heard him mention it.”
Ji Yunting tilted his head and thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t think he ever dated anyone, even in school.”
The topic was starting to feel a little dangerous, so Zhu Lianzhen quickly redirected, “Let’s get back to the main plan.”
The conversation shifted back to the program. After a lengthy discussion, they finally reached a conclusion: one teammate would pretend to accidentally reveal a relationship in front of Tan Qing to test whether he would help cover it up out of loyalty or try to persuade them to break up for the greater good.
It was a risky test for any idol. One wrong move could lead to fans blowing the details out of proportion and launching attacks online. But if handled well, it could also win over more support from viewers. Acemon had long suffered from a poor reputation when it came to professional ethics, and the group was in desperate need of a boost to their public image.
When it came time to decide who would play the teammate pretending to be in a relationship, the director was stumped. Koty wasn’t the type to keep secrets, Ji Yunting’s private life was also already pretty open, and Fu Rong gave off such a disinterested vibe that no one would believe he was dating anyone.
That left only Zhu Lianzhen. As the youngest, full of energy and with a wide social circle, having a girlfriend in private would seem totally believable for him.
But Zhu Lianzhen refused the role with righteous conviction, claiming his acting was terrible and that Tan Qing would definitely see through him in a second.
At least he was honest about that—everyone knew how bad he was at lying or acting.
A long time ago, Pei Qiao had even sent him to audition for the role of a rich young master in a Mary Sue-style school idol drama. Just one scene where he had to kabedon the female lead and deliver a forceful line had him blushing and stammering the whole time, awkwardly bracing himself against the wall, too shy to get close to the actress, and unable to maintain eye contact.
With a personality that flustered that easily, it was hard to imagine what he’d even be like in a relationship.
“And besides, in Tan Qing’s eyes, I’m definitely the most professional one. If something weird happens, he’s bound to think something’s up. How could he believe I have a girlfriend?”
Zhu Lianzhen argued with confidence, but it still wasn’t enough to convince the director, and not even his teammates were willing to overestimate Tan Qing’s perception of him. Since he couldn’t give the real reason for his reluctance, he had no choice but to agree.
Many cameras were installed in hidden spots, and the next morning, the program’s official observation of Tan Qing began.
To add more detail to the setup, Zhu Lianzhen had spent the night alone at a hotel. Early in the morning, he timed his return just right to “sneak back” into the dorm, playing the part of someone who hadn’t come home the night before.
Then, as planned, he conveniently ran into Tan Qing, who had just gotten up, on the stairs.
“Just got back?” Tan Qing greeted him calmly.
There was no surprise or curiosity in his tone, as if he already knew Zhu Lianzhen had been out.
But Zhu Lianzhen had deliberately left at two in the morning, assuming Tan Qing would be asleep by then.
“What time do we start work today?” he asked awkwardly—a question he already knew the answer to, having completely forgotten the lines the crew had prepared for him.
“Half past nine.”
“Oh.”
As they passed each other, Tan Qing suddenly paused. After a beat of silence, he turned his head and asked, “Changed your perfume?”
Zhu Lianzhen, with his back still facing him, widened his eyes slightly—he could actually smell that?
There really was a faint scent of women’s perfume on his clothes. The director had sprayed it on not long ago, just to add a bit of realism.
But no one had expected Tan Qing to pick up on such a small detail.
No matter how well teammates knew each other, who even noticed stuff like perfume?
Thankfully, Zhu Lianzhen reacted quickly. “I wasn’t paying attention and sprayed the wrong one. Your nose’s pretty sharp.”
Tan Qing said, “It’s not really your kind of scent.”
“Just felt like trying something different for once.” Zhu Lianzhen could feel the heat in his palm. One hand was still tucked in his pocket, holding a mini recording device. That meant their entire conversation had been transmitted clearly to the audio team.
Would that exchange sound normal to others? Somehow, it felt a little off. Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t tell for sure. Silently reminding himself, “The more you say, the more likely you are to mess up,” he hurried back to his room to change clothes—afraid that if he lingered a few seconds longer, Tan Qing might even figure out the perfume brand.
At 9:30, the van pulled up outside the villa. Today’s schedule was to film an outdoor food show, or at least, that was the cover story. In reality, it was all part of Celebrity Observer, and during the fake program, Tan Qing would be subjected to a series of unexpected scenarios, all carefully captured on camera.
The filming location was a restaurant decorated with photos and autographs of celebrities. The manager spoke eloquently in front of the camera, explaining the restaurant’s backstory—though, of course, all of it was fabricated. Even the celebrity photos were fakes created by the production team.
The key detail was the emphasis on the restaurant’s founder being a highly respected actor. At the mention of his name, everyone’s expression turned solemn and respectful.
“Try our house-brewed tea first. It’s great for clearing the mind.” The manager enthusiastically brought over small bowls and poured tea for each member in turn. But the bowl given to Tan Qing had a chipped rim, making it look clearly out of place.
It was an obvious case of poor service, yet Tan Qing said nothing. He subtly positioned his fingers to cover the flaw so it wouldn’t be visible on camera.
That composed reaction was exactly what the director had anticipated. Following that, Tan Qing continued to face more of the show’s “unequal treatment.”
For example, when the cameraman moved in for a close-up of the dishes, both he and his equipment “coincidentally” blocked Tan Qing from view for a full thirty seconds. Though Tan Qing noticed, he didn’t say a word and let the cameraman finish filming without interruption.
In another instance, a staff member claiming to be an Acemon fan repeatedly called Tan Qing by the wrong name and, when asking for a group photo, didn’t even get him in the frame. Still, Tan Qing maintained his gentle smile and didn’t bother correcting them.
The director was slightly surprised. They had used similar tactics in previous episodes, and no artist had ever completely ignored such disrespect. The more hot-tempered ones would show their irritation outright.
After several minor tests, the crew concluded that Tan Qing truly had remarkable composure. No wonder he was known for the poise of a top-tier idol. But Zhu Lianzhen scoffed at these petty tricks. That’s it? As if something this shallow could expose Tan Qing’s real reactions.
Even in private, he had never seen Tan Qing lose his composure, let alone in front of rolling cameras. Maintaining his image came far too easily to him.
While they waited for the food to arrive, filming was paused. The members sat around the table when suddenly, their phones buzzed at once.
“What’s Zhu Lianzhen saying now?” Koty asked, looking at his screen. “Don’t delete it, I haven’t finished reading.”
“I sent it to the wrong chat,” Zhu Lianzhen replied casually, fingers tapping rapidly on the screen.
Even that short line felt unnatural to him. Just now, he had sent a few ambiguous words to the group chat, clearly written in the tone of someone talking to a romantic partner.
All the lines had been prepared in advance by the director. As long as the members cooperated, even if Tan Qing didn’t join the conversation, he would still be able to hear everything clearly from where he was sitting.
“I saw it. Definitely not a normal message,” Ji Yunting said to Koty, adding a meaningful smile that looked entirely natural, without a trace of acting.
Zhu Lianzhen bit the bullet and snapped back, “What’s it to you?”
Fu Rong scoffed—clearly unimpressed by Zhu Lianzhen’s awkward acting. But to his credit, he didn’t ad-lib anything to intentionally make things harder for him.
Using the reflection on his phone screen, Zhu Lianzhen noticed that Tan Qing was looking at him. Unfortunately, the screen was too dark to make out his expression.
Not long after, the dishes began to arrive one by one. A staff member gave a detailed introduction to the restaurant’s signature cold noodles—sweet, sour, and refreshing, supposedly perfect even in winter.
The cold noodles did look tempting, but they were yet another carefully laid trap by the production team. Only Tan Qing’s bowl had been loaded with extra sour lemon juice and white vinegar. Just one bite was enough to numb the tongue.
The other members, who were all in on it, subtly glanced over to watch his reaction. Tan Qing had already picked up the noodles and taken a bite. But after several seconds, there was no visible change in his expression. The director nearly asked the staff to double-check if they had used the right bowl.
Fortunately, a moment later, Tan Qing poured himself a fresh cup of tea and drank more than half of it. Though his face remained composed, everyone could imagine how awful the taste must have been.
The results of the test were clear, and a staff member quickly approached with a feigned apologetic tone, saying, “Sorry, the chef got a little nervous and over-seasoned one of the bowls…”
Tan Qing responded with an “Mm,” acknowledging that his bowl had been the one. After receiving his gentle “It’s alright,” the staff served him a properly prepared bowl of noodles.
Up to this point in the recording, Tan Qing’s reactions had perfectly upheld his idol image. Although this was exactly what Zhu Lianzhen had expected, he still couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.
It wasn’t that he wanted Tan Qing to do something out of line, but he was simply tired of this kind of show format. For mature celebrities, controlling their image in front of a camera was second nature. And after post-production editing, their strengths would be magnified even further.
The audience wanted to see Tan Qing placed in difficult situations, but even more than that, they wanted to see him remain composed and kind no matter what was thrown at him.
Zhu Lianzhen had no interest in that. What was the point of an idol who fit every perfect mold?
The fake show wrapped up quickly, but the hidden cameras still had to keep rolling. On the way back, Zhu Lianzhen kept messaging the “girlfriend,” who was actually a staff member, and occasionally tilted his phone screen toward Tan Qing.
However, Tan Qing didn’t glance over even once. The only thing he said was a reminder: looking down like that would cause motion sickness.
This guy just wouldn’t take the bait. Zhu Lianzhen was starting to get nervous, already regretting agreeing to such a troublesome setup. How nice it would’ve been to sit back and relax like the others.
After returning to the dorm, he still had to keep up the act. In the bedroom, he made a phone call and recited his lines, deliberately adopting the tone of someone arguing with their partner. His voice leaked through the crack in the door to the floor below.
Koty’s eyes lit up with gossipy excitement as he turned to the others. “Did you notice? Zhu Lianzhen’s been kind of distant from us lately.”
Ji Yunting: “What do you mean?”
“He’s being all sneaky, definitely hiding something,” Koty said, jerking his chin toward the room upstairs. “Who’s he talking to?”
Their entire exchange was intended for Tan Qing to hear, but even after several lines, he showed no interest in joining the conversation. Left with no choice, Koty took the initiative. “Kissy, you live across from him. Have you noticed anything unusual?”
Only then did Tan Qing spare them some attention. “No.”
For a moment, Koty didn’t know how to continue. He had expected Tan Qing to mention that Zhu Lianzhen hadn’t come back the night before.
“What are you curious about?” Tan Qing asked.
Koty said, “I feel like Zhu Lianzhen’s hiding a girlfriend from us.”
Ji Yunting played along. “Don’t talk nonsense.”
In response to the guess, Tan Qing simply smiled without saying anything. So Koty made something up on the spot, “Really. I even heard him tell his assistant to buy stuff for a girl the other day. Probably gifts.”
Tan Qing: “What did he buy?”
Koty: “A bag, and a necklace or something like that.”
“Is that so?” Tan Qing looked at Koty with a thoughtful expression. “Sounds like he’s got good taste.”
Because Tan Qing didn’t engage much, the topic naturally died off soon after, and no one could tell how much he actually believed any of it.
Later, Koty looked pleased with himself. “How about that? I’m pretty good at steering the conversation, right?”
Zhu Lianzhen just wanted to curse him for being an idiot. Why did he have to mention buying a bag and necklace? That was the kind of stuff you gave to someone you were actually dating. Now Tan Qing was definitely going to get suspicious.
Translator’s note:
I ended up splitting this chapter into two since it was 3x longer than usual. Let me know if this length feels okay or if you’d rather have shorter sections. Also, this one’s the first paid chapter. Please support the author if you can 🥰
this length feels fine, thanks for the update! ❤️