Chapter 111: Group Variety Show (Extra 11)
Lai Yudong increasingly felt that filming the group variety show was like shooting a massive vlog with his friends. During the day, they went out to play; at nigh,t they came back to do homework, and sometimes he’d stay up chatting with his roommates or teammates who dropped by other dorms. Even his most relaxing college vacations had never been this fun.
But on the last day of filming, his nerves hit their peak.
Not because of the approaching deadline—at his pace and efficiency, freedom was within reach—but because of the group show’s proposal: Bai Xuanhe had actually suggested eating silkworm pupae and bamboo worms.
Just imagining it made Lai Yudong’s skin crawl as if bugs were climbing all over him.
“Why would you suggest eating bugs?” Lai Yudong was utterly baffled.
“I heard they taste good,” Bai Xuanhe replied, his reasoning pure and simple. “Lots of variety shows have this kind of segment, right? You said going abroad wasn’t realistic, so I changed it.”
Lai Yudong: “……”
Couldn’t you have changed it to a domestic trip instead!?
Lai Yudong was the type who could be easily fed and wasn’t a picky eater.
He was fine with both cilantro and durian in the eternal internet wars, and he devoured dishes like bullfrog and eel that turned some people away. In a hotpot restaurant, he could scroll through the entire menu from top to bottom without rejecting a single item—only ranking them by how much he liked them.
The one and only exception: insects.
No matter how others described the delicious aroma of fried silkworm pupae, he always smiled and politely declined. Especially after hearing that they were said to burst with juice when bitten—he regarded those creatures with profound reverence and fear.
He could understand and respect others’ tastes, but he would never eat them himself.
As for bamboo worms, those were even worse—in his worldview, pests should be exterminated, not swallowed.
“The scores have been tallied,” the staff announced the final results. “Lai Yudong and Bai Xuanhe are tied—you both got full marks.”
“W-What do you mean?” Su Junzhe almost bit his tongue. Gripping Lai Yudong’s arm in horror—insects being one of his few nemeses—he stammered, “You mean they accepted both of your proposals!?”
“Surely not…?” Lai Yudong said uncertainly.
“What did you write?”
“Watching fireworks. Don’t tell me we’ll be eating insects while watching fireworks?”
“No!” Su Junzhe was so scared he nearly fainted. “Spit it out! Hurry and spit that idea out!”
[I’ve never seen something this explosive in a variety show]
[It’s over, I can’t get that image out of my head]
[That visual impact is too strong]
[Dong-baby, maybe you should be the show’s planner instead]
[Actually, silkworm pupae taste great—just think of them as skinned shrimp]
Lai Yudong: …
Suddenly, even shrimp felt a little gross.
Fortunately, the staff’s next announcement threw them a lifeline: “We’ll play a little game to determine the final winner between you two.”
Lai Yudong quietly let out a breath of relief.
Bai Xuanhe’s reputation as a game black hole (hopeless at games) was deeply ingrained—surely he wouldn’t lose to him.
The game was word guessing. Each person wrote a word on a piece of paper, which would then be stuck onto the other’s forehead. They would take turns asking yes-or-no questions about the word on their own forehead, and whoever guessed their word first would win.
Normally, Lai Yudong wasn’t very competitive, but this time the fate of the whole group was at stake. Under Su Junzhe and the others’ burning gazes, he had to come up with a word that wouldn’t be easy to guess.
A person’s name? The group name?
Too simple—elimination logic would reveal it in just a few rounds.
Visual? ACE?
No—that kind of word was way too close to their daily lives.
A sudden flash of inspiration hit Lai Yudong, and he quickly picked up the pen to write down what he would proudly call a stroke of genius.
With the staff’s help, the two exchanged their papers, each word now fixed to their foreheads with a headband.
Everyone immediately turned to look at what was written.
Li Xu gave a high evaluation: “Instant win.”
Su Junzhe even started celebrating early. “Awesome! No insects for us!”
“You’re all making it sound like I’m at war with the whole world,” Bai Xuanhe muttered. “What did he even write? Is it really that hard to guess?”
Zhao Yifeng patted him on the shoulder. “Hard enough to make me want to suggest you surrender right now.”
“I don’t believe that!”
They played rock-paper-scissors to decide the order, and the winner—Lai Yudong—got to ask first.
To avoid spoilers or clue-dropping from the live chat, the system thoughtfully turned off the bullet comments, maintaining full fairness and impartiality.
Lai Yudong started broad: “Is it a living thing?”
Staff: “No.”
Bai Xuanhe repeated the same question and got the same answer.
Lai Yudong: “Is it solid?”
Staff: “Yes.”
Bai Xuanhe repeated the question but this time got the opposite answer.
Lai Yudong: “Is it food?”
Staff: “Yes.”
Bai Xuanhe: “Can you drink it?”
Staff: “No.”
Lai Yudong: “Is it a fruit?”
Staff: “Yes.”
Bai Xuanhe: “Does it have a color?”
Staff: “Yes.”
After a few rounds, Lai Yudong had already narrowed it down to a specific fruit—while Bai Xuanhe hadn’t even gotten close.
But that was normal. It wasn’t his fault—no matter who played, the result would’ve been the same.
“Does it have seeds or a pit?” Lai Yudong quickly sorted the fruit into a category, confident that just a few more questions would lead him to the right answer.
“Yes,” the staff replied.
“A colored liquid you can’t drink…” Bai Xuanhe racked his brain for a long while but couldn’t come up with anything. “Does it have a smell?”
“Yes.”
Lai Yudong narrowed the scope further: “Can you eat the skin?”
“No.”
“It can be eaten,” Mo Li corrected. “In some places, people use it in cold salads.”
Li Xu looked utterly confused. “Huh? You can make that into a salad?”
“You can,” Zhao Yifeng confirmed. “You can also pickle it—I’ve seen my roommate do it.”
Lai Yudong’s eyes lit up in sudden realization. “Then I know what it is.”
“You already know?” Bai Xuanhe muttered, still struggling to figure out what the mysterious thing on his own forehead could be. “Is it poisonous?”
Staff: “No.”
Lai Yudong confidently asked his guess: “Is it a fruit cucumber?”
“No.”
“Eh?”
Li Xu’s mouth twitched. “Do you think I don’t know cucumbers can be made into salad? Do you take me for an idiot?—And why are you nodding!?”
The game went on.
“Crap, I don’t even know what else to ask.” Bai Xuanhe had hit a question wall, his brain completely blank. “Colored, has a smell, not poisonous, not drinkable… Oh no, why am I thinking of weird things now…”
“If you really want to drink it, you technically could,” Su Junzhe added mischievously, grinning.
“As if anyone would believe you.” Bai Xuanhe groaned, mentally scrolling through every liquid he’d ever seen. “Is it iodine?”
The staff crushed his hopes: “No.”
“My turn.” Lai Yudong thought of another possible match and asked, “Is it a tomato?”
“I know what a tomato is too!” Li Xu protested loudly.
The staff confirmed it: “No, that’s not it.”
Now it was Lai Yudong’s turn to be confused.
Aside from cucumbers and tomatoes, what other fruits had skins that could be pickled or used in cold salads?
“Is it disinfectant?” Bai Xuanhe continued guessing blindly, completely unaware that he could narrow his range more logically.
Staff: “No.”
“Is it a fruit that comes in segments?” Lai Yudong gave up on that line of reasoning—those salad dishes must belong to his culinary blind spot.
“Yes.”
“Is it hand soap?” Bai Xuanhe asked.
“No.”
Lai Yudong pinched his chin, thinking deeply. When it came to segmented fruits, his first thought was tangerine, but then he remembered similar ones—orange, lemon, durian, pomelo, mangosteen…
Asking one by one would be too time-consuming, and he didn’t want to end up like Bai Xuanhe, stuck in a loop far from the right answer.
He decided to play it safe: “Does it have pulp?”
Staff: “Yes.”
Bai Xuanhe: “Is it dishwashing liquid?”
Staff: “No.”
Lai Yudong: “Is it yellow?”
Staff: “Yes.”
Bai Xuanhe: “Is it toilet cleaner?”
Staff: “No.”
While Bai Xuanhe continued to wander in the realm of cleaning products, Lai Yudong had already grasped the truth. With full confidence, he declared, “It’s a pomelo, isn’t it?”
“Correct,” the staff announced.
“Yeah!!” Su Junzhe jumped up from the sofa, bursting with excitement. “Fireworks! Fireworks!”
At the same time, the livestream chat came back on.
[Can you guys make your sighs of relief any more obvious?]
[I’m pretty sure everyone except Bai Xuanhe didn’t want to eat insects]
[But honestly, I would like to see them eat the insects]
[From the very first question I wanted to say—how is a pomelo not a living thing? / doge]
[To be fair, no one could’ve guessed it in ten rounds if it were Brother Bai]
“What on earth is mine? My brain’s dried up,” Bai Xuanhe muttered anxiously as he yanked the paper from his forehead. Even a second’s delay felt unbearable. “Huh???”
He stared wide-eyed at the words. “Rh-negative blood!?”
“Mm.” Lai Yudong said calmly. “Commonly called panda blood—the rare blood type.”
“Who could’ve possibly guessed that!?”
“Exactly. That was the point.”
[He even used the scientific term—I’m crying for real]
[You can tell he really wanted to win 233]
[First time seeing Yuzu so competitive]
[Rare = “xi yu” (grapefruit) (grabs random pun candy)]
[Team Yuzu always delivers]
[The fact that he thought of “panda blood” in a few seconds is wild]
And just like that, the “watching fireworks” proposal was set in stone.
—
That night, StarEpoch boarded a bus to the seaside—the spot carefully chosen by the production team as the perfect place to view fireworks.
The seven of them sat by the shore, gazing out into the starry night.
The moon hung high like a flawless white jade disc, stars glittered like scattered sparkles across the sky, and their light shimmered over the dark, vast sea. The breeze from the ocean carried a faint salty tang, brushing gently against their cheeks—cool and damp, serene and beautiful.
Suddenly, a loud boom echoed across the sky—the horizon burst open with brilliant color, ribbons of light scattering in all directions.
“It’s starting!” Bai Xuanhe shouted, his voice full of excitement.
“See? Isn’t this way better than your insect-eating idea?” Su Junzhe shot back, clearly still holding a grudge.
“I didn’t even think I’d get the highest score! I just filled it out randomly!” Bai Xuanhe cried out in protest. “Look at the word I wrote—it was so simple!”
Zhao Yifeng teased, “I thought that was because you couldn’t think of a hard one.”
“I’m not an idiot!”
“Debatable.”
[The group’s one and only Dumb Line]
[What’s a Dumb Line LMAOOOO]
[Bai Xuanhe’s life matters too!]
[But Bai Xuanhe’s brain might not count as a brain / doge]
Amid the laughter and fireworks, Lai Yudong tilted his head back with a smile.
The dazzling bursts of color reflected in his dark eyes, making them gleam like starlight.
It had been a long time since he last watched fireworks—and never before had he watched them with friends.
Ending such a joyful time with fireworks felt beautifully romantic.
Camera flashes mixed into the light.
[StarEpoch–Lai Yudong: [Fireworks] Do you prefer the stars or the fireworks?]
[StarEpoch–Lai Yudong: In a human lifetime, stars are eternal and fireworks are fleeting—but both leave behind a brilliant trace.]
[StarEpoch–Lai Yudong: …That sounded kind of weird Σ（°△°|||）]
[StarEpoch–Lai Yudong: When the day comes that we disband, let’s watch fireworks together again! ♥]
—
XX Media University.
Office.
“Internship report? Oh right, you told me you’d just gotten back to campus today—you’ll need an extra day to hand in the printed copy.”
The professor glanced at the cover of the report and, seeing the listed organization, automatically assumed he’d gone for an off-campus internship. “Nice, Sky Entertainment, huh? That’s not an easy company to get into. This’ll look great on your résumé.”
Lai Yudong gave an awkward smile. “I didn’t do an internship.”
“Oh?” The professor blinked. “Then volunteer work? That’s good too.”
“No… I went to join a talent show.”
“…What?”
“I got pulled into Climbing to Stardom, and, uh, ended up debuting in the final group.”
“……”
After Lai Yudong left, the professor flipped through his report and sighed to a colleague beside him:
“Man, it’s really tough for broadcasting majors to find jobs these days. They’re all running off to do idol shows.”
—————————————————————
Author’s Note:
Info dump—
Running speed ranking:
Bai Xuanhe > Lai Yudong > Su Junzhe > Li Xu > Mo Li > Qu Xincheng > Zhao Yifeng
I’m planning to write a forum-style mash-up next (similar to the second public performance chapter).
I’m also considering putting the disbandment concert in a forum format, told through third-person snippets. I’ve been thinking about it these past few days—I’m really not that good at writing full-on stage scenes. Sprinkling in a few performances across ten chapters is fine, but a whole concert sequence would probably end up feeling like a dry event recap quq.
Plus, it feels weird to write about a disbandment concert right after they’ve just debuted—it doesn’t have enough emotional weight yet (sad).
I also have a bunch of little fragments I want to include. Writing them separately would make for really short, scattered extras, so compiling them into a forum-style chapter feels perfect.
Disbandment!? T-T