Chapter 119: Subject Two, Variety Show
Shen Xiu didn’t understand why the coach would question that, and replied honestly, “It’s true.”
The coach found it hard to believe at first, but after thinking it over—Shen Xiu probably had a chauffeur, and he wasn’t that old—maybe it wasn’t so strange he’d never driven.
Once he convinced himself, the coach began explaining: “Since you haven’t had any experience, I’ll first tell you what’s covered in Subject Two of the driving test—starting, parallel parking, curve driving…”
The coach ran through the entire Subject Two content.
Shen Xiu mentally took note of everything, and when the coach finished, he nodded and said, “Thank you. Got it.”
Coach: “……”
Well, he had to admit—this guy might look cold and aloof, but he was actually quite polite.
The coach pointed to the nearby driving school car. “Get in. I’ll take you through the basics.”
“Alright.”
As long as there was no small talk and they could jump straight into action, Shen Xiu was secretly delighted.
In the car, the coach took three minutes to explain the brake, gas pedal, steering wheel, how to start the car, and so on.
Throughout the entire explanation, Shen Xiu didn’t say a single word. When he finished, the coach asked, “Wanna give it a try?”
Shen Xiu sat in the driver’s seat, glanced at the controls, and nodded. “Okay.”
The coach quietly fastened his seatbelt and instinctively placed his hand on the brake.
With first-time drivers, you never know what kind of chaos might unfold. Unless he had full control over safety, he just couldn’t relax.
It was Shen Xiu’s first time holding a steering wheel, and he felt a bit excited. Looking out at the vast driving practice area, he wasn’t sure where to go since the coach hadn’t given any specific instructions.
After waiting a few seconds without hearing anything more, Shen Xiu turned his head and asked, “So… I can drive wherever?”
The coach nodded. “Yeah, just try it out however you want.”
As long as the beginner didn’t turn the wheel the wrong way, knew how to start the engine, and didn’t mistake the brake for the gas pedal, the coach considered that good enough—his expectations weren’t high.
“Okay,” Shen Xiu responded.
Since the coach hadn’t specified a destination and told him to drive freely, Shen Xiu took that as permission to choose his own direction.
He scanned the wide training ground and, in under five seconds, picked a destination.
Once he had that in mind, Shen Xiu started the car using everything the coach had just explained and drove toward it without hesitation. As he drove, he smoothly executed all the maneuvers the coach had mentioned earlier—reverse parking, parallel parking, S-turns, everything—one by one.
Watching Shen Xiu’s fluid and natural driving, the coach: “……”
You’re calling this inexperienced? That you’ve never touched a car before?!
And besides—when he said “just give it a try,” he meant see if you can even start the car, not drive all over the place and complete every part of the Subject Two exam.
At this rate, if Shen Xiu really had never driven before, the coach might as well eat the car right then and there.
Sitting in the passenger seat, the coach slowly removed his hand from the brake, surrendering to Shen Xiu’s expert handling. With a numb expression, he sat staring blankly out the windshield.
Who knew how much time passed before Shen Xiu calmly drove the car back to the original spot.
He parked, then turned to the coach, a bit anxious. “Was that okay?”
Coach: Okay? That was way more than okay!
The coach blurted out the question that had been burning in his soul: “Are you sure you’ve never driven before?”
Shen Xiu wasn’t sure whether the coach was satisfied or not, and asked softly, “Does riding a shared bike… count as driving?”
Back when he had to travel between various part-time jobs and school, Shen Xiu had decisively chosen the cheaper option—shared bikes—over the more expensive electric ones.
Hearing that calm, deadpan response, the corner of the coach’s eye twitched as he spat out two words: “Heh. Hilarious. You’re truly hilarious.”
The coach hadn’t expected this. After Shen Xiu signed up, he’d only looked him up online out of curiosity. He never imagined that all those so-called “Xiu-style deadpan jokes” mentioned by the Xiuologists… he’d get to experience them himself.
Shen Xiu looked at him in confusion. “Hmm?”
Feeling the chill from Shen Xiu’s piercing gaze, the coach’s throat went dry. “What I mean is… maybe… you should just go ahead and take the driving test?”
Worried he might be sued, the coach quickly added, “We can refund your registration fee.”
Shen Xiu grew even more confused. Did he mess up somehow? Was the coach trying to avoid teaching him?
And besides—
They were already offering a refund? Was his driving really that bad?
Nervously, Shen Xiu said, “Coach, I think I still need more practice. Please believe me—I can do better.”
It’s okay if his first time wasn’t perfect—he could improve. Please don’t give up on him!
This driving school was conveniently located near his home and university. Shen Xiu didn’t want to be kicked out, so he quickly added, “No need to refund the fee. I don’t want to switch schools.”
Coach: “……”
Drive better…?
Heh. Got it.
He obviously already knew how to drive, but had still signed up for the driving school to make sure nothing went wrong during the exam.
But… judging from Shen Xiu’s driving just now, he was already doing exceptionally well. And yet he still believed he had room to improve? That he could drive even better with more practice?
How could someone like Shen Xiu be this much of an overachiever? The coach truly couldn’t understand it!
After Shen Xiu finished his explanation, he noticed the coach silently staring at him. The tension was so suffocating it nearly took his breath away. He finally gathered his courage and spoke up: “Coach?”
The coach snapped out of it at the sound of Shen Xiu’s calm voice. Taking a deep breath, he replied sincerely, “As long as you’re happy.”
He had no desire to understand the world of overachievers—he was just an ordinary guy.
Relieved that he hadn’t been kicked out, Shen Xiu exhaled softly. “Okay.”
Having narrowly avoided being dismissed and refunded once already, Shen Xiu didn’t dare waste any more time. Worried that he wasn’t good enough yet, he immediately asked,
“Coach, what should I practice next?”
“…Go over everything you just did a few more times.” Honestly, the coach didn’t know what else he could even say.
No—more precisely, Shen Xiu didn’t leave him any room to give guidance in the first place.
“Alright.” Receiving his instructions, Shen Xiu stared straight ahead, nervously started the engine, and began his second round of practice.
Meanwhile, the coach sat beside him like a soulless machine, with no chance to offer a single correction—just a silent mascot in the passenger seat.
Across the training lot, another student sat in a different car, getting scolded so harshly by their coach that the entire driving field could hear it. That student looked over at Shen Xiu’s car with eyes full of envy.
Their own coach’s yelling echoed for miles, while Shen Xiu’s coach sat quietly and gently inside the car. The contrast couldn’t have been more obvious.
“Coach… has that student been training for a really long time?”
He had been to the driving school many times—if any student had been that skilled, there’s no way he wouldn’t remember. Maybe their practice times had just never overlapped, and this was the first time he’d seen him.
The two practice fields were set a good distance apart, so the student asking the question couldn’t see who was in the other car.
The coach, upon hearing his student’s question, didn’t even hesitate before answering:
“Heh, you wouldn’t believe it—today’s his first time behind the wheel.”
The moment Shen Xiu signed up at their driving school, it didn’t even take until the next day—less than an hour after he’d left, every coach at the school already knew.
At their school, it was one student per car. On weekends, a coach might handle a few students, but on weekdays most students had classes, so it was nearly always one coach per student.
Everyone at the school already knew who had been assigned to coach Shen Xiu. The coach didn’t even have to look—he knew that student on the other lot was Shen Xiu.
“Sigh… If only I’d had a bit more courage, I’d be the one teaching him. If I had Shen Xiu as my student, I wouldn’t be getting mad at you every day.”
The coach couldn’t help but sigh after saying that.
Student: “…You don’t have to put it like that.”
Yeah right—clearly the coach was just exaggerating to make him feel bad about how terrible his own driving was.
As if anyone could drive like that on their first try. No way. That guy must’ve practiced countless times before—his family probably had a car or something.
Most people at the driving school were noobs like him anyway.
…
At 6:30 p.m., Shen Xiu left the driving school, still reluctant to stop.
Wearing a mask as he walked home, Shen Xiu reviewed the afternoon’s driving lesson in his head. After mentally replaying everything, he suddenly realized something: Since his second round of practice, his coach had only said five sentences.
And one of them was “Goodbye” when he left.
At that thought, Shen Xiu came to a halt mid-step and murmured to himself, “Crap… Did the coach get so stunned by my driving that he didn’t even want to say anything?”
But he had practiced everything exactly as the coach described during the initial briefing on the test requirements for Subject Two.
After muttering to himself, Shen Xiu noticed someone watching him, and—slightly embarrassed—quickened his pace and kept walking.
A few steps later, Shen Xiu figured it out.
The coach was a professional, far more experienced than a rookie like him. If his skills left the coach speechless, that was probably… normal.
…
After Shen Xiu left, the coach lit a cigarette and took a long drag.
He hadn’t dared to smoke at all while Shen Xiu was around.
A fellow coach came over and asked, “What’s up with you? You look all gloomy—not like yourself. Didn’t Shen Xiu do really well?”
The coach let out a long sigh.
“He did do well. So well that I just sat there like a lump of wood in the passenger seat.”
It wasn’t that he wasn’t satisfied—on the contrary, he was genuinely pleased with how fast Shen Xiu had picked things up.
It’s just… he was used to instructing students nonstop. But today, from Shen Xiu’s second round of practice onward, he’d barely said more than ten sentences total. It felt… unsettling.
With a haunted expression, the coach said, “I used to think I wasn’t a talker. My students always complained I talked too much—I thought they were just whining. But today? I’ve been thoroughly humbled. I admit it… I am a chatterbox.”
His colleague gave him a flat look and concluded, “…You need meds.”
Here he was brooding like a tragic poet when his student did amazing. Would he like to switch?
He could have the one who’s been practicing forever and still crashes into walls.
—
Saturday.
At eight in the morning, Shen Xiu arrived at the set as usual.
The scenes for his previous costume had already been completed, so he changed into a new white outfit and sat down for hair and makeup.
As soon as Shen Xiu sat down, Fang Chengxing—now dressed in his own black costume—plopped down right beside him.
“Good morning, Shen Xiu!”
Before Shen Xiu could respond, Fang Chengxing had already beaten him to it. Shen Xiu followed suit and replied, “Good morning.”
“Morning!”
Liang Cheng walked in from another room, having changed into costume as well. With Fang Chengxing occupying the seat on Shen Xiu’s right, she could only sit to his left.
“…Good morning,” Shen Xiu greeted again, slightly puzzled.
He wasn’t sure what had happened during the few days he missed filming due to classes, but somehow Fang Chengxing and Liang Cheng had ended up flanking him on either side.
Fang Chengxing waved cheerfully at Liang Cheng. “All good, all good.”
Then, turning back to Shen Xiu, he nervously held out his script. “Could you take a look at my script?”
He was playing the role of Li Yang—why would he want to read Gong Zihen’s lines?
Meeting Shen Xiu’s calm yet penetrating gaze, Fang Chengxing suddenly felt exposed. His little plan to show off in front of Shen Xiu felt childish in hindsight, and he averted his eyes awkwardly.
Shen Xiu was momentarily confused, but the embarrassed look in Fang Chengxing’s eyes made everything clear in an instant.
Fang Chengxing must’ve felt that since they weren’t very familiar with each other yet, sitting in silence would be awkward. He was probably just trying to break the ice with some small talk.
Shen Xiu responded naturally, “Sure.”
He accepted the script Fang Chengxing offered.
Watching Fang Chengxing present his script like a prized treasure, Liang Cheng couldn’t hold back her laughter. She covered her mouth but still let out a chuckle. “Pfft—hahaha…”
Blushing furiously from embarrassment, Fang Chengxing looked at her and pleaded, “I’m begging you—can you at least spare me a shred of dignity?”
Liang Cheng flashed an “OK” gesture. “Sure thing.”
Hearing their exchange, Shen Xiu’s hand froze mid-page, still holding the script.
At that moment, only one thought echoed in his mind: No wonder I can’t fit into their circle—I can’t even understand half of what they’re saying!
Having grown used to not following others’ conversations, Shen Xiu quietly opened the script, hoping to find something he could understand to ease the awkwardness he was feeling.
As he flipped it open, he noticed that what used to be a clean, untouched script was now marked up in all kinds of colored lines and filled with notes—Fang Chengxing’s personal reflections on the character.
One section caught Shen Xiu’s attention: a monologue detailing the inner thoughts of Gong Zihen, written by Fang Chengxing himself. It was surprisingly thoughtful and engaging, and Shen Xiu couldn’t help but start reading more closely.
Meanwhile, Fang Chengxing’s eyes had naturally drifted to Shen Xiu’s face, curious to see his reaction.
He waited… and waited. Over a minute passed, and Shen Xiu’s eyes never once left the page. He didn’t say a single word.
Fang Chengxing: “…”
He had spent the past week diligently poring over the script every day, hoping to impress King Xiu just a little.
But from the look of calm indifference on Shen Xiu’s face, it was clear—his heartfelt “mini-essays” in the margins had made zero impact.
‘Was I really not good enough to catch his eye?’
‘Did he think my writing was so mediocre it wasn’t even worth commenting on?’
Fang Chengxing couldn’t help feeling disheartened.
Just as Shen Xiu finished reading a particularly well-written character analysis, he looked up—and found Fang Chengxing staring at him with a gaze so soulful it caught him off guard.
‘Wh-What’s with that look?’
‘Wait… did I misunderstand? Was the script just an excuse to make small talk and not actually meant to be read? And now I’ve actually read it…?’
Flustered, Shen Xiu quietly closed the script, handed it back, and apologized, “Sorry about that.”
Fang Chengxing: “…”
So he really had nothing to say about it, huh…
As Fang Chengxing took back the script, he felt even more disheartened. But then he reconsidered—his notes were mostly simple inner monologues. It made sense that Shen Xiu wasn’t particularly moved or inclined to comment.
Fang Chengxing sighed. “It’s my fault.”
Shen Xiu looked at him apologetically. “No, it’s my fault.”
‘He’s just being polite, and I was dumb enough to take it seriously…’
Fang Chengxing blinked in surprise at Shen Xiu’s words.
So the rumors were true—Shen Xiu might have been careless and underwhelming in the past, but if someone showed they were serious and willing to work hard from the ground up, his cold and harsh demeanor would begin to thaw.
See? Even though Shen Xiu clearly wasn’t impressed by his effort, instead of being bluntly critical like before, he held back his sharp tongue.
And when he noticed Fang Chengxing looking dejected, he even took the blame onto himself—implying that maybe his standards were the problem.
“No, no, no—it’s my problem!” Fang Chengxing insisted.
It was perfectly normal for God of Competence Xiu to have high standards. How could he ask Shen Xiu to lower them just to spare his feelings?
Shen Xiu looked even more guilty. “I…”
Before the conversation could spiral further into an awkward loop of mutual blame, Liang Cheng quickly stepped in to steer things in another direction—especially before Fang Chengxing got completely crushed under the weight of it all.
“Hey, Fang Chengxing, you’ve got cat hair in your hair!”
Fang Chengxing threw her a grateful look, then leaned toward the mirror to pull it out. “Hu Niu must’ve gotten it on me this morning—she was clinging to my head and grooming.”
She was way smaller than him, yet always treated him like her little brother.
At the mention of “cat hair,” Shen Xiu instinctively turned to the mirror and started inspecting his own hair carefully, just in case.
They were all still in their costumes but hadn’t put on wigs yet—just sitting there while the makeup artists worked on their faces.
Noticing Shen Xiu’s sudden movement, Liang Cheng asked curiously, “Shen Xiu, do you have a cat too?!”
His gesture had been exactly like Fang Chengxing’s earlier search for stray cat hairs.
Shen Xiu didn’t find any cat hair, but it was the first time he’d talked to anyone about his cat. He tried to keep his excitement in check and nodded with reserved composure. “Yeah. I have a little kitty too.”
His phone was filled with photos of Lucky.
Hearing those soft, cutesy words—little kitty—spoken in Shen Xiu’s characteristically cool, emotionless voice left Liang Cheng both stunned and weirdly disoriented.
Fang Chengxing was also surprised, and immediately lit up with interest. “You have a cat too? What kind? Do you have pictures?”
“Mhm,” Shen Xiu replied, his heart beating a little faster. “I’m not sure of the breed—I found it on the street.”
He picked up his phone from the table and opened his gallery. “This is what it looks like. Its name is Lucky.”
For some reason, even though Shen Xiu still wore his usual blank expression and spoke in a cool, indifferent tone, the moment he mentioned Lucky… it just felt different. Different from how he interacted with people.
Liang Cheng and Fang Chengxing exchanged a glance, then simultaneously turned their eyes to the phone screen.
When they saw a tiny bundle of black fluff, barely the size of Shen Xiu’s palm, with bright green eyes peeking out of the fur, Liang Cheng let out a gasp. “Oh my god—it’s so cute!”
Hearing someone praise Lucky, Shen Xiu couldn’t help but sit up straighter with pride, his voice serious as he agreed, “Yes. Lucky is extremely cute.”
Every day when he came home, Lucky would strut confidently around the apartment with her little tail held high, meowing as she “patrolled” the space. The once-empty room now felt lively and warm—and no matter how many times Shen Xiu watched her do it, he never got tired of it.
Fang Chengxing sneaked a glance at Shen Xiu. He had a hunch—if Shen Xiu ever brought his cat on one of those popular pet variety shows, it would absolutely leave a unique impression on all his fans, the so-called “Xiuologists.”
Thinking of how he’d recently signed up for one of those trending shows himself, Fang Chengxing couldn’t hold back his curiosity and asked, “A lot of celebs are bringing their pets onto that hot new animal variety show… Shen Xiu, would you ever be interested in taking Lucky on one of those?”
