Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Second Stage of the Date

Tang Zhichu rested his head on his arm, gazing up at the sky. The profound night was awash with indigo, stars scattered in radiant clusters. In this moment, Tang Zhichu felt something akin to a sense of belonging. As he looked into the night, his thoughts wandered to Old Tang’s Sichuan Cuisine, to his DY account, and to the dating show.

The breeze brushed gently past his ears, cool and soothing. Tang Zhichu mused that if it were daytime, under such a breeze, the two green faces of every blade of grass would surely be visible.

At some point, Chen Siyang had quietly settled beside him. She looked about first, then handed something to Tang Zhichu.

“What’s this?” he asked in confusion.

“Hurry, just put it away,” Chen Siyang urged him.

It seemed to be a note. Without much thought, Tang Zhichu slipped it into his pocket.

“I want to invite you on a date tomorrow. This has to be kept secret, don’t tell anyone,” she whispered.

Suddenly it dawned on him—the show’s second round of dates was here, the girls taking the initiative this time.

Tang Zhichu grinned. “Alright.”

“What were you looking at?” Chen Siyang asked again.

He gestured at the sky with his chin. “Nothing, just relaxing.”

Imitating him, Chen Siyang lay down on the grass as well.

There they lay, watching the night and the stars. After a long pause, Chen Siyang suddenly spoke, “Have you thought about the future?”

“Yes, I have.”

“And then?”

“I want to run my restaurant well, learn to sing, things like that—catch up to you.”

“Then… could you handle a long-distance relationship for a long time?”

Tang Zhichu was silent for a moment before replying, “I think I could.”

Chen Siyang said nothing more, the air between them growing delicate.

After lying there a while longer, Chen Siyang stood up. “I’m a bit sleepy. I’ll go back first.”

Tang Zhichu got up as well. “I’m tired too. Let’s go back together.”

They walked back in silence.

Once home, Chen Siyang went straight upstairs. In her room, she took out her phone and sent a message.

“Jinbao, I’m eom…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I want to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“If I start a relationship, what impact will it have on my career?”

The reply didn’t come immediately; the other side was typing for a long while before answering.

“If you mean the dating show, then there’s binding marketing, commercial endorsements, losing your male fans, maybe even having your acting opportunities affected. I suggest you ask Sister Yu as well—it’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“I see.”

“Now I’m curious—when will you introduce him to me?”

“Jinbao, what about you? What would you choose?”

“I don’t know, honestly. But I think you should listen to your heart. Don’t leave yourself with regrets.”

Downstairs, Tang Zhichu was running on the treadmill, his mind clear, even picturing the burly arms of the uncle who ran the hotpot place today.

How does one train to get to that level?

“Secretly working out alone, are you?” a voice called.

Tang Zhichu glanced over; it was Zhou Yun.

“My advice: run and do pull-ups. Stick with it, and the results will surprise you.” Zhou Yun approached.

“How far should I run?”

“Five kilometers at least.”

“Alright.”

Seeing how seriously Tang Zhichu took it, Zhou Yun reined in his urge to joke and placed what looked like a membership card on the treadmill’s console.

“What’s this?”

“A gym card. Want to try my gym tomorrow?” Zhou Yun lowered her voice, “A date—a secret one. I’m inviting you.”

“To be honest, I’m a little scared,” Tang Zhichu replied.

Zhou Yun laughed, “Don’t worry, I won’t force you to exercise.”

With that, she jogged upstairs, seeming a bit shy. Tang Zhichu shook his head—she was quite a performer.

The show’s rules were clear: invitations to dates couldn’t be refused, just like the first round of blind dates. Whoever asked, whatever the activity, you had to go.

It took Tang Zhichu forty minutes to finish his five kilometers, leaving him drenched in sweat.

Why put myself through this? Lying down is so much more pleasant.

He was about to go upstairs when he saw Jiang Lan with a glass of water. Tang Zhichu smiled and nodded in greeting, but Jiang Lan didn’t move.

He paused, rubbing his temples. Could it be happening again?

A hint of schadenfreude curled Jiang Lan’s lips. “Are you free the day after tomorrow?”

She stressed the day after tomorrow particularly. Today, it was the girls’ turn to initiate dates; she could easily guess Tang Zhichu’s predicament and didn’t even ask the producers to coordinate—she just picked a day herself.

Tang Zhichu looked pitiful. “Sister Lan?”

Jiang Lan shook her head. “Good night.”

Watching her ascend the stairs, Tang Zhichu sighed softly. He’d gotten himself into quite a situation.

Three dates—how exhausting was that?

He went up for a shower, just as it was time to send messages.

Yang Jiaxing was relaxed about it. He quickly composed his message, sent it, and shut his eyes, as if he’d rather not know what happened next.

Huang Zejun hesitated, editing his message several times before finally sending it.

As expected, Tang Zhichu’s phone began to vibrate.

He glanced at it and put it down with a calm expression.

Huang Zejun guessed inwardly that, judging by Tang Zhichu’s less-than-happy face, it was probably Zhou Yun’s message.

A moment later, his phone vibrated again. This time, it was Chen Siyang.

“Rabbit head tastes better than crayfish. Good night!”

Tang Zhichu set his phone aside, feeling the subtle shifts within him—changes that, in a way, were mutual indulgence between them.

He had foreseen this.

Just then, another vibration sounded.

Huang Zejun instinctively picked up his phone, but his face froze.

Why… why was there no message?

Tang Zhichu picked up his phone yet again; this time it was Jiang Lan.

“I want to make QQ candies as well. May I ask you for some advice?”

Tang Zhichu almost laughed out loud. Sister Lan, are you really using official resources for personal favors?

Huang Zejun glanced at Tang Zhichu, then at his own phone, feeling a wave of darkness descend.

Why? Where had things gone wrong? Surely, he hadn’t sent his message to the wrong person?

On the opposite sofa, Yang Jiaxing suddenly opened his eyes, having noticed Tang Zhichu had received three messages.

First he was puzzled, then surprised, and finally, he couldn’t help but snicker before clapping a hand over his mouth.

He looked at Huang Zejun, as if to say, “See? I told you, girls need company, don’t they?”

Yang Jiaxing suddenly felt a sense of balance. He recalled a conversation with a friend earlier that day.

“The most inconspicuous male contestant, not very talkative, and not the one who interacts most with the girls—why do two of them like him at once?”

The friend’s answer: “Can you introduce him to me? I feel like we’d have a lot to talk about.”