Chapter 74: Returning to Xiangzhou

The National Day holiday passed quickly, marking the imminent premiere of the year’s most anticipated variety show, “The Singer,” which once again sparked nationwide excitement and heated discussions. Other television stations could only look on with envy, jealousy, and frustration, but by now, they had grown accustomed to this situation every year. As such, they had long since adjusted their strategies, abandoning the Friday prime time slot in the fourth quarter. Only major networks like Blue Ocean TV dared to air competing programs of other genres, while most stations either shifted their broadcasts to avoid direct competition on Fridays or filled the slot with lower-quality programs, reserving their best shows for Saturday or Sunday to avoid being crushed by “The Singer.” The fiercest competition, in truth, took place during the first three quarters of the year, when several big stations each played to their strengths, resulting in a relatively even playing field.

But come the fourth quarter, on Friday nights, “The Singer” was an unshakable titan.

Lin Qihua and his companions set out early for Xiangzhou, this time traveling by magnetic levitation intercity train instead of by plane.

They had little choice in the matter. The production team behind “The Singer” was notorious for their extreme commitment to secrecy, making all travel arrangements themselves. For Lin Qihua, that meant traveling by train ahead of time to avoid airports and other locations under heavy media surveillance.

In recent years, the show’s crew and the media had engaged in a battle of wits and willpower. Every time the program was about to air, both sides pulled out all the stops. The media kept a close watch on airports, hotels, television stations, and other key locations, tailing every possible singer who might appear onstage.

Meanwhile, the production team always managed to stay one step ahead, coming up with ever more elaborate moves to conceal the contestants’ identities. If the media watched airports, they used other forms of transportation; if hotels were under surveillance, they arranged for alternative lodging. Only after the show began did things return to normal. One year, they even had several contestants arrive in Xiangzhou half a month early and lie low, then make a brief appearance at the airport just before the show to throw off the press, while secretly returning to their hidden accommodations by other means—a level of cunning that bordered on madness.

Yet it was precisely these elaborate games that fueled a nationwide guessing frenzy, turning the entire affair into a festive riddle that both sides relished. Even when the media guessed the lineup, they held back from spoiling things, not wanting to ruin the collective excitement.

This time, Lin Qihua arrived in Xiangzhou by train. As soon as he stepped onto the platform, staff from the show whisked him away to an ordinary apartment in a residential complex. According to them, the place belonged to a regular television station employee and had been temporarily borrowed by the production team. Lin would stay there until the show started, after which he’d move to a hotel. Even the employee only knew their home was being lent out—never to whom. The secrecy was airtight.

“For the next few days, please don’t leave this apartment,” the staff reminded them. “The fridge is fully stocked, and we’ll bring up more supplies as needed. If anyone knocks, don’t answer. We have keys and will let ourselves in if necessary.”

“All right,” Lin Qihua replied, resigned. There was nothing to do but cooperate, and truth be told, he found the production team’s methods intriguing. After all, only with such secrecy could the live broadcast deliver its greatest surprises.

On this trip to Xiangzhou, only Shen Manni and Ma Xiaoqian accompanied him; the rest of the team would fly in on the day of the competition and head straight to the television station. By then, the media would stop their scrutiny, as there would be little point—once the show was about to begin, even if they guessed the contestants, it wouldn’t matter.

“Hey, what’s this?” After the staff left, Shen Manni noticed something odd on the sofa in the living room.

She picked it up—a giant Lion King helmet, along with a cape.

“That’s my gear,” Lin Qihua said excitedly, putting the helmet on and letting out a roaring sound.

“Haha, how strange! Your voice sounds different too,” Shen Manni giggled, while Ma Xiaoqian covered her mouth, laughing softly.

“Yeah, there’s a voice changer inside,” Lin Qihua explained, taking off the helmet. “I can only remove it right before going onstage. They really don’t play around.”

“There were instructions in the email,” Shen Manni added. “All cameras will be focused on the stage at that moment—no one will see you take off the helmet. They’ve taken secrecy to the extreme.”

“That’s the attitude they bring to producing this show. It’s why ‘The Singer’ is at the very top.”

“That’s true,” Shen Manni agreed with a nod.

“Well, looks like we’ll be holed up here for the next few days,” Lin Qihua said with a smile, settling onto the sofa.

Thump, thump—Ma Xiaoqian’s heart skipped a beat. “All in the same apartment?”

“Hehe, look, Xiaoqian’s blushing,” Shen Manni teased. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you—he won’t get a chance.”

“I think you’re the one to watch out for,” Lin Qihua retorted, dissatisfied.

“Then you’d better be careful,” Shen Manni shot back, unfazed. “Don’t blame me if I sneak up on you in the middle of the night.”

Lin Qihua could only raise his hands in surrender. He certainly couldn’t say in front of Ma Xiaoqian that he wasn’t afraid and would welcome any midnight ambush.

Dinner was prepared by Lin Qihua himself. Young Lady Shen Manni had never lifted a finger in the kitchen, so expecting her to cook was out of the question. As for Ma Xiaoqian, she was a bookworm with no experience in cooking—though she wanted to help, she simply didn’t know how. Watching Lin Qihua busily at work in the kitchen, she quietly resolved to learn to cook someday.

The fridge was well-stocked, with more than enough chili peppers. Knowing the two women didn’t care for spicy food, Lin Qihua used them sparingly. He quickly whipped up three simple dishes, which Shen Manni praised between mouthfuls.

“I wonder which lucky woman will end up marrying you,” Shen Manni said with a playful smile. “Handsome, talented, and a great cook—a woman must have accumulated a lifetime of good karma to deserve that.”

“It definitely won’t be you,” Lin Qihua replied bluntly. He had no intention of letting his agent latch onto him.

“Haha, I’m not that ambitious,” Shen Manni said lightly. “But Xiaoqian here might have a shot. Oh, why are you blushing again?”

Ma Xiaoqian quickly lowered her head, pretending to focus on her food. Just now, she’d drifted into another daydream that made her cheeks burn.

Lin Qihua scratched his head. As his assistant, Ma Xiaoqian was constantly teased by Shen Manni—she really had it tough. He wasn’t oblivious; he knew full well what Ma Xiaoqian felt for him, but he didn’t know how to respond. She was beautiful and gentle, devoted to him—a truly excellent match. However, after so many years apart, it was hard to claim a deep emotional bond, and at the very least, he didn’t feel his heart stir. Sometimes he felt guilty toward her but didn’t know how to address it. All he could do was play dumb each time, or perhaps, let time sort things out.