Chapter 32

Filming didn’t stop with nightfall.

The guests had to stay overnight in the film studio. There was an inn where they could pay for rooms, and a camping plaza that was cheaper but required them to set up their own tents.

Everyone checked out the inn first.

A single room was 200 yuan a night; a double was 300. Each room had a private bathroom—simple but clean. But 200 or 300 a night was too expensive for the guests.

Sun Yan said, “200 yuan is enough to buy that stage outfit I wanted. Forget it, I’ll go set up a tent.”

Tents cost 50 yuan per person and came with access to public showers.

Zhao Yu’s team had earned the most money. With their massive 2,000-yuan fortune, Shen Junyi wasn’t about to rough it. He grandly announced to the innkeeper, “Two single rooms!”

Zhao Yu looked around and saw that all the other guests found it too expensive and had decided to sleep in tents. That meant only she and Shen Junyi would be staying at the inn! How was she supposed to avoid suspicion then?

She quickly said, “Wait! I’ll sleep in a tent too!”

Shen Junyi was about to pay. He turned and waved his little wallet at her. “We have enough.”

Zhao Yu kept a straight face. “Everyone else is sleeping in tents. It’d be weird if we stayed at the inn. Besides, we might not earn money as easily tomorrow as we did today—better to save.”

Shen Junyi was not having it. “No way. I can’t sleep in a tent. I need a bed!”

Zhao Yu stepped forward, pulled a hundred-yuan bill from his little wallet, and said, “Yeah, yeah, you sleep in the bed. I’ll go sleep in a tent myself. Bye!”

And she ran off without looking back.

Shen Junyi: “…”

He looked at the innkeeper waiting for payment, then at the teammates heading out to the campsite. He pouted, reluctantly put his wallet away, and followed.

Zhao Yu was surprised to see him coming over when she was picking out a tent. Seeing his aggrieved expression made her want to laugh—and also want to ruffle that golden retriever head and smooth down his fur.

She kept a straight face, walked over, and handed him the double-layer waterproof tent she’d picked out. “Here, for you.”

Shen Junyi glanced at it and said, very smugly, “This black one is so ugly. It doesn’t match my looks. I want a red one!”

Zhao Yu: “!”

Motherf*cker!

She left him to it, paid, and walked off in a huff.

The camping plaza, surrounded by fire pits, came alive under the starry sky.

None of them were great at setting up tents. They laughed and helped each other out, forgetting the fatigue of the day’s filming—in that moment, it was just the joy of friends camping together.

The female guests went to wash up together. The public bathhouse was only separated by thin wooden planks. Zhao Yu, being from the south, had never experienced a northern communal bath. She showered in record time, wrapped herself in a towel, and bolted.

But Zheng Wanyi and Sun Yan gleefully blocked her way.

“Let me feel the human fairy’s waist!”

“I heard these legs have been number one on ‘Korea’s Most Wanted Legs to Touch’ for three years straight!”

Ruan Fengdi was a senior they didn’t dare mess with, so they ganged up on the blushing Zhao Yu instead. Their laughter carried all the way to the men’s bathhouse.

Xia Yuan had been eavesdropping for a while. He said, a little shyly, “They’re saying Xiao Yu’s waist feels nice…”

Wei Chi was putting on a face mask in front of the mirror. “She is the sexy goddess. Last year at the Stellar Gala, I saw her dance—the guys behind me were screaming their throats raw.”

They gossiped for a bit, then turned to Shen Junyi, who was showering with his back to them. Xia Yuan said, a bit enviously, “And Junyi Ge too! How does he get a body like that? I feel like I’m dying every week in gym class.”

Wei Chi looked at his own previously enviable physique, then at Shen Junyi’s eight-pack abs and strong back, and sighed mournfully.

After everyone finished washing up, the sky was completely dark, but the surrounding fire pits burned brighter, warming everyone’s faces. The eight tents formed a circle. Some chatted, some scrolled through their phones—it really did feel like a wilderness camping trip.

Zhao Yu dried her hair, changed into comfortable loungewear, and tied her hair up as she walked to a corner of the plaza.

There were no cameras here. She sat on a flower bed and watched the original So Busy video on her phone a few times. It had been years since she’d danced this routine. At first, she thought she’d forgotten the moves—but the moment the music hit and she watched Shen Junyi’s stage performance, the muscle memory came flooding back.

After watching it twice, she set her phone aside and started practicing to the track.

At first, she was a little rusty, but the dance memory gradually returned, and she found her groove. On the third run-through, a voice suddenly came from behind, smiling: “That variation’s pretty good.”

Zhao Yu spun around.

Shen Junyi was there, wearing a black hoodie with the hood up, a few strands of blonde hair falling over his eyes. His hands were in his pockets, and he had a lollipop in his mouth—he looked like a carefree, rebellious teenage boy.

Zhao Yu couldn’t tell if her racing heart was from the exercise or just from him.

She bent down, picked up her phone, and turned off the video. “What are you doing here?”

He grinned. “I heard the music and thought I’d come give you some pointers—but turns out you’re already awesome.” He pulled the lollipop out of his mouth with a pop and gave her a thumbs-up. “Good job!”

He’d praised her.

Just like he did back then.

Zhao Yu was suddenly grateful for the night, which hid her burning ears.

She casually flicked her hair, tucked her phone away, and said, “Going to sleep. Have to get up early to make money tomorrow.”

Shen Junyi “Mm”ed and followed her, lollipop back in his mouth.

The lively campsite gradually quieted down. A chorus of “goodnights” rang out as tent zippers closed one by one. The guests turned in early, saving their energy for the day ahead.

At eight the next morning, the production team provided a “friendly” wake-up call. Each guest’s assistant had already prepared toiletries and breakfast; hair and makeup stylists stood by with their kits. The campsite buzzed with activity once more.

After the guests were ready, today’s filming officially began.

Zhao Yu’s prediction was correct—today’s money-making tasks were much harder. The shops they’d scouted yesterday had all “gone bankrupt” overnight. Zheng Wanyi and Sun Yan had invested money in some shops yesterday, hoping for dividends this morning—only to find the owners had gone bust, taking their principal with them. They were nearly in tears.

They all cursed the production team for being heartless.

The director’s team replied righteously: “There were signs of bankruptcy all along. You were just blinded by greed and missed them!”

Guests: “…………”

A new day of hustle began.

Zhao Yu went to the prop store and calculated: their team’s required items would cost 3,000 yuan total. So today, they only needed to earn a little over 1,000 more.

With that in mind, there was no need to chase high-risk, high-reward tasks. They’d just steadily earn small but safe profits until they hit 3,000.

Compared to their relaxed approach, the other teams were scrambling.

Zheng Wanyi and Sun Yan, having lost half their capital, were understandably desperate and had to go for broke. But that also meant risking more losses. In short—many opportunities, many traps; caution was key.

At 8:30 p.m., the guests finished their day’s tasks and gathered at the prop store for their final purchases.

Zhao Yu and Shen Junyi arrived first and had already bought everything they needed.

They’d saved a fortune by skipping the choreographer, which gave them more options. Besides the essential stage outfits and makeup artists, they’d also bought stage lighting and effects.

They had ten yuan left. Shen Junyi took his little wallet and bought two popsicles. They sat on the doorstep, eating them while watching the other guests frantically panicking over not having enough money.

At nine o’clock sharp, the prop store closed. The guests moved into rehearsal mode.

Rehearsals were held at a theater in the city. There was still time—the production team took them there to check out tomorrow’s performance venue.

The performance would be tied in with a stage play, a collaboration the production team had arranged long ago. The guests would come on after the play, ensuring audience retention while also promoting the play.

The staff had already started preselling tickets early in the morning. These big names were so famous that even non-fans—local residents—were willing to come. Since it was a same-day performance, out-of-town fans couldn’t make it, so the audience was mostly local.

With time tight, they didn’t wait until tomorrow—rehearsals started that night.

Zhao Yu had only practiced on her own last night and hadn’t synchronized with Shen Junyi yet. This was originally a solo dance, and they hadn’t bought backup dancers. To create a great stage effect, they’d need to adapt some parts into duet choreography.

But both were highly skilled, serious, and professional about the stage. While other teams were busy dividing song parts and studying original videos, Zhao Yu and Shen Junyi had already run through the original choreography together and were discussing which sections to adapt for a duo.

After a long day of running around, Shen Junyi’s carefully styled hair had gone soft and limp. But the way he focused on work was even more attractive than his daytime antics.

The occasional time Zhao Yu zoned out, he’d tap her back to attention with his pen.

“Add a backflip here, land on one knee, I come over from this side to catch you—freeze in a pose.” He looked up. “You can backflip, right?”

Zhao Yu said, “No problem.”

Shen Junyi twirled his pen, raising an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

Zhao Yu: “…You can do it too. What’s so impressive about that?”

He put the pen away and said matter-of-factly, “So I’m impressive too.”

Zhao Yu: “…………”

They rehearsed late into the night, finishing the adapted choreography before yawning and heading back to the hotel. When they left, Zheng Wanyi’s team was still watching their video. They’d arrived late and were left with only one song that had partial dance elements.

But Zheng Wanyi and Chu Erping were both actors—clueless about dance. They hadn’t had enough money for a choreographer and had to learn from the video. After a whole night, they still hadn’t mastered a single move.

Learning choreography from scratch wasn’t for everyone.

The next morning, Zhao Yu arrived at the rehearsal hall with breakfast and found Zheng Wanyi still sitting in the same spot from last night, phone in hand.

Zhao Yu was startled and quickly walked over. “You didn’t sleep at all?”

Zheng Wanyi looked up with two dark circles under her eyes, exhausted. “I didn’t go back—just slept here for three hours.”

Zhao Yu handed her the warm milk she was holding. “You can’t do that. Go back and rest. If you’re in this state, how are you going to perform tonight?”

Zheng Wanyi clutched her head in despair. “I can’t—there’s no time. I still haven’t learned this dance. I promised Teacher Chu I’d have it down by the time he got here this morning!”

Zhao Yu looked at the video on her phone, then at the haggard young star. She reached out and took the phone. “Let me see. Go eat your breakfast over there.”

Zheng Wanyi pressed her stomach, which had indeed been feeling off, gave Zhao Yu a grateful hug, and went to eat.

Zhao Yu sat down cross-legged with the phone and studied it carefully.

It was a classic old Chinese song, but the arrangement had been adapted with electronic rock elements. The dance portion wasn’t extensive, but for someone with zero dance background like Zheng Wanyi, it was still challenging.

By the time Zheng Wanyi finished breakfast, Zhao Yu had watched the video three times, focusing mainly on the dance parts.

Only then did Zheng Wanyi remember. “Xiao Yu, that was your breakfast, wasn’t it? I ate it—what are you going to have?”

Zhao Yu looked up and smiled. “It’s fine. I already had protein powder in my room.” She stood up, brushed off her pants, and handed the phone back. “You don’t need to watch it anymore. I’ll teach you.”

Zheng Wanyi stared at her in disbelief.

Zhao Yu tied her hair up, her peach-blossom eyes curving into a smile. “Come here.”

Tears welling up in her eyes, Zheng Wanyi threw herself at her.