Chapter 105: Group Variety Show (Extra 5)
Among the members, only two have two-character names — Mo Li and Li Xu. They became roommates because of apple cider vinegar. One has an overly strong sense of self-preservation and is always cautious; the other speaks sharply and says whatever’s on his mind. Putting the two together is bound to create some kind of dramatic chemistry.
Su Junzhe and Bai Xuanhe ended up in the same group because of Sprite. Counting Lai Yudong and Qu Xincheng, the three roommate pairs were now officially decided.
As expected, Zhao Yifeng decisively chose to join Lai Yudong’s group.
Within the team, the only person he could call a friend was Lai Yudong — everyone else was, at best, just a coworker. At least for now, their relationships were that realistic.
With that, the roommate assignments were finalized, and all preparatory steps were complete.
Finally, it was time to check out the dorms.
Everyone picked up their suitcases piled by the door and headed to their respective rooms.
The two double rooms were on the second floor, and the only triple room was on the first. Each room came with its own private bathroom, spacious layout, and good lighting. In addition, the house had a kitchen, recording studio, music room, and gym — allowing for both rest and work in balance.
Most importantly, rent and utilities were fully covered by the company.
[So jealous — their dorm’s way better than Tree Group’s.]
[Tree Group was Mo Li’s previous team, right?]
[Sigh, what a waste of youth joining a flop variety show.]
[Compared to other survival show project groups, StarEpoch’s dorm setup is definitely the best.]
[Though the villa is a bit small.]
[It’s a seven-member group, not an eleven-member one.]
[Too bad there aren’t single rooms.]
[Single rooms aren’t fun to watch — dorm life is where all the jokes and shipping moments come from.]
Lai Yudong pushed open the door to their room.
What greeted him were three large beds lined up in a row. The room was fully equipped — TV, wardrobe, balcony — everything one could need. Most important of all was the desk, which looked perfect for him to write his fieldwork reports on.
There were no fixed cameras in the room, only a cameraman following them around. Outside of that, their lives would go on as normal — unlike during the survival show, where they were livestreamed twenty-four hours a day.
Though he wasn’t afraid of being in front of a camera, having every single moment of daily life recorded would definitely become uncomfortable after a while — like living in an alternate version of The Truman Show.
After all, some things just weren’t meant to appear on camera.
Like climbing over the wall to pick up takeout, the infamous “707 dorm bathroom incident,” or late-night calls with his mom — those moments existed precisely because there were no cameras. The moment you set one up, the feeling changes; the more people who know, the more it changes.
That’s the allure of secrets.
“The staff said we’ll meet up tomorrow morning — meaning they’ll stop filming for now, right?” Zhao Yifeng walked in, dragging his suitcase. Of the three, he had brought the most luggage, including various recording devices.
“Looks that way. The cameramen have already left,” Lai Yudong said, glancing around. “Let’s pick our beds.”
It was obvious that neither of the other two wanted the middle one, so he considerately stepped toward it. “Is it okay if I take this one?”
“Sure,” Zhao Yifeng replied, locking onto his choice. “I want the one by the wall.”
Qu Xincheng nodded. “Then I’ll take the one near the door.”
They then began the usual unpacking routine.
Lai Yudong didn’t have much luggage, and his things were neatly organized, so he finished quickly.
By the time he pushed his empty suitcase into the corner, Zhao Yifeng was just opening a black storage case full of recording gear, while Qu Xincheng was crouched beside his overturned suitcase, sorting through his things one by one.
“Need a hand?” Lai Yudong asked.
“No, no, it’s fine!” Qu Xincheng waved his hands quickly. “You still have homework to do, right? Don’t worry about me, I’ll be done soon! I—I’ll keep it down, I won’t bother you!”
Lai Yudong was momentarily stunned by this—he couldn’t tell if Qu Xincheng’s train of thought was unusually careful or just unusually scattered. But then he remembered that this was the same trainee who had introduced himself in English during the survival show, and suddenly, everything made sense.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Relax. Just do your thing. I don’t get distracted that easily.”
“Don’t worry,” Zhao Yifeng said, chiming in while still unpacking. “When he asks if you need help, he literally means it. He’s not secretly implying anything.”
Qu Xincheng nodded earnestly. “Yeah, I understand!”
“He only talks in circles like that when he wants to curse someone out but can’t,” Zhao Yifeng added casually.
Lai Yudong: “?”
Lai Yudong: “Don’t ruin my reputation.”
“Relax,” Zhao Yifeng said, giving him a reassuring look. “It’s just the three of us here. No cameras.”
Lai Yudong straightened his posture, determined to defend his image. “Even so, I don’t want Qu Xincheng getting the wrong idea about me.”
Qu Xincheng flustered, waving his hands again. “It’s okay! I—I’ll forget it!”
“The thing about forgetting,” Lai Yudong said, his voice trailing off, “is that it only works if something actually happened, right…?”
To be fair, Zhao Yifeng wasn’t entirely wrong. That did happen sometimes—but those cases were rare. Most of the time, Lai Yudong was genuinely kind-tempered; unless something was truly outrageous, he wouldn’t get angry. And even if he did, it didn’t necessarily mean he’d open his mic to argue.
Since his roommates didn’t need any help, Lai Yudong didn’t insist.
He pulled a laptop out of his computer bag and slipped straight into the tragic mode of a university student.
Before officially starting his fieldwork report, he snapped a photo of his setup and sent it to Starlight.
Starlight was an exclusive app launched by Si Jia Entertainment for StarEpoch, modeled after Korea’s Bubble — essentially a large-scale chatroom with a monthly subscription.
All fans could see the messages idols posted, as well as the messages fans sent to them. However, from the fans’ perspective, the interface appeared as a private one-on-one chat — as if they were intimately messaging their idol directly.
Fans had limits on how many words and messages they could send, but the idols could post as often or as rarely as they liked — a few times a day, or just once a week.
Lai Yudong was known for being one of the more active ones. Ever since Starlight launched, he hadn’t missed a single day. Many fans even joked that he might keep up that perfect attendance until the group disbanded.
[StarEpoch – Lai Yudong]: Good evening~ 🌙
[StarEpoch – Lai Yudong]: [Image] First day filming the group variety show, pulling an all-nighter doing homework, sobbing.
[StarEpoch – Lai Yudong]: Chasing deadlines is such a novel experience — hope this “fresh feeling” ends soon＼（Δ’）／
[StarEpoch – Lai Yudong]: I just want to have a peaceful New Year! So, I’m going to do my best! ❤️
Normally, Lai Yudong didn’t use flashy or cutesy expressions when typing.
But somehow, whenever it came to situations like this, he seemed to be possessed by Su Junzhe — unconsciously adding emoticons or emojis at the end of his sentences to sound cute.
Maybe it was because plain text felt too cold and distant — and he didn’t want to come off like some emotionless office worker just clocking in and doing his routine check-in.
He even went as far as downloading an app full of kaomoji just for this purpose.
After sending out his messages, Lai Yudong set his phone aside and focused on his homework.
Meanwhile, his chat window was quickly flooded with fan replies.
[Good evening, hubby 030]
[My boy’s reporting his homework progress, so obedient~]
[Another day of relating too hard as a fellow college student]
[Baby, you just reminded me—opening my laptop right now!]
[Have fun filming the variety show~]
…
—
The next morning, the staff handed each member a blank sheet of paper, calling it an “answer sheet.”
“During the group variety show, we’ll be asking you questions from time to time. You’ll write your answers on this sheet, and later we’ll collect them all. The person with the highest score will have the chance to make the proposal written at the end of their sheet come true.”
Lai Yudong’s gaze shifted to the bottom of the page — there was indeed a section labeled Proposal for the Show.
Good grief. Were they sure this wasn’t just the producers being lazy with their planning?
“Anything we write can really come true?” Bai Xuanhe asked eagerly.
“The key words,” Lai Yudong reminded him, “are ‘the chance.’”
Bai Xuanhe instantly deflated. “I was about to write ‘Go on an overseas trip.’”
[Dream big, huh hhhh]
[More like a virtual overseas trip at best]
[A+ for wordplay]
“——Please listen to the question.”
“It’s starting already!?”
“This feels like a listening test all over again.”
“Just don’t give me any math problems, please!”
Amid the chaos, Lai Yudong quietly reached toward the coffee table, grabbed a handful of pens, and handed them out to the teammates around him.
“The first question: Who went to bed the latest yesterday?”
Lai Yudong: “……”
How was anyone supposed to know that?!
Zhao Yifeng turned to look at him. “In our room, you were the last one up.”
“But when I finished my work, I saw Bai Xuanhe’s post on his Moments feed,” Lai Yudong said, tapping his pen against his cheek. “If he went to bed after midnight, does that still count as last night?”
“Uh… probably?”
“No whispering or peeking at others’ answers,” the staff reminded them, maintaining “exam hall” discipline.
Lai Yudong gave up on overthinking it and simply wrote his own name with a bold stroke.
“The answers will be revealed at the end,” the staff said. “Next, we’ll be heading to today’s destination.”
Su Junzhe propped his chin in both hands and said sweetly, “Miss Director~ Where are we going?”
“That’s a secret~”
Though the production crew acted all mysterious, when the destination was finally revealed, Lai Yudong could only describe his reaction as “Of course it is.”
A perfectly ordinary haunted house.
For team-building events, it was almost a given — escape rooms, haunted houses, murder mystery games, karaoke — all the usual hangouts for young people.
But his teammates’ reactions were far from calm.
“R-r-r-really here?” Qu Xincheng’s tongue practically tied itself in knots. “We—we’re filming in a haunted house? A real one!?”
Mo Li, who had been sitting in the front, shrank back to the middle of the group. “I can already feel the chill… Don’t tell me there’s going to be a chase scene too…?”
Li Xu stood stiffly, face set in grim resolve. “How long does one round take?”
“As long as a lifetime,” Su Junzhe joked, still in good spirits. “Blink once, and it’ll all be over.”
[Not that kind of ‘over’ 💀]
[Starting right off with a haunted house, that’s intense hhhh]
[Wait, aren’t there barely any brave ones in this group?]
[#2’s definitely the tank.]
[Isn’t it cruel to have one brave guy dragging six scaredy-cats?]
[#1’s half a tank, maybe? He didn’t get scared in the phone booth.]
[Even 1.5 tanks won’t be enough! You need at least two — one in front, one in back!]
The haunted house guide, unfazed by their chatter, continued smiling as she recited a story far too grim for her expression:
“You are a team of explorers fascinated by the supernatural. Last week, you came across a forum post about this long-abandoned mansion. Rumor has it the family who once lived here all died mysteriously overnight. Intrigued, you’ve decided to come investigate.”
“Isn’t that the classic ‘death flag’ setup?!” Bai Xuanhe groaned.
“Now, we’ll hand out your identity cards.” The staff flipped seven cards face-down on the table. “Please draw one at random, and do not reveal it to anyone else — or you’ll be cursed by the mansion.”
“Why would revealing our identities trigger a curse?” Zhao Yifeng questioned, unable to resist nitpicking the logic.
Lai Yudong picked up a card at random. “Maybe the evil spirit is nearby — if it hears our names and identities, it can curse us right away.”
Qu Xincheng blanched. “R-really?”
“I’m kidding. We haven’t even gone in yet; there won’t be any NPCs around.” Lai Yudong flipped his card over to check—
and instantly fell into an odd silence.
Without a change in expression, he slipped the card neatly into his pocket and gave a calm, reassuring smile.
“Let’s line up and decide our order.”
You might not believe it if he said it—
His assigned identity was the traitor hiding among the expedition team.
—————————————————
Author’s note:
Information reveal —
MBTI types:
Su Junzhe — INFJ
Lai Yudong — ENFJ
Mo Li — ESFP
Zhao Yifeng — ISTP
Qu Xincheng — ISFP
Bai Xuanhe — ESTP
Li Xu — ISFJ
(MBTI is just for reference~ Not only can people have “masked” personalities, but no one’s character can truly be contained within just sixteen types!)
