The variety show “Pastoral Idyll,” which paired agents with their artists, was promoted in a completely different way from Whale Entertainment’s previous effort, “A World Starting Anew.”
At least the prior show had stuck to protocol by gradually revealing the guests and tagging the trainees alphabetically in hopes of nipping fan squabbles in the bud.
Unfortunately, arguments over the lineup order still blew up enough to trend on the hot searches.
This rural variety had far fewer guests and an even shorter promo window. It gave off the vibe that the production team just wasn’t all that invested.
Yet that half-assed feeling wasn’t blatant—at least the Weibo posts carried a subtle spark of enthusiasm.
The first duo announced was agent Yan Muyu and artist Qiu Chao. Qiu Chao’s star power alone was enough to pull in hordes of viewers.
Yan Muyu wasn’t quite as big a name, but her track record in the industry was stacked. Most fans of major artists knew who she was.
After all, she had served as chief photographer for the top-tier magazine “Hree.” Even A-listers had to book around her schedule.
And Qiu Chao’s career-defining “Puzzle” series? One of Yan Muyu’s signature masterpieces.
The next day brought the musician-agent pairing: indie singer Liu Song, who had risen from a grassroots music competition show.
Most people’s takeaway on Liu Song’s agent, Xi Xi, boiled down to the rich heiress’s scandalous divorce amid her “save him through love” poverty alleviation phase, after which she scooped up the label’s newbie Liu Song.
The combo initially baffled fans. Liu Song had burst onto the scene at seventeen, still in high school, straight out of the competition. Signing with a powerhouse label was one thing, but landing a gold medal manager like Xi Xi? That seemed like a stretch.
It just so happened that Xi Xi was knee-deep in divorce drama at the time.
Yuan Chenyi—a fellow labelmate and even Xi Xi’s spouse—was rumored to have cheated with Xi Xi’s best friend.
In the end, Xi Xi filed for divorce, severed professional ties with her ex, and inked a deal with competition winner Liu Song, betting on the fresh talent.
These days, Liu Song was red-hot, dominating new song sales charts with a massive lead and leaving veteran Yuan Chenyi in the dust.
It was so cathartic that fans kept saying it would have been perfect if Liu Song were a guy—that would have straight-up killed Yuan Chenyi.
The production team picked this pair partly because Liu Song had never touched lifestyle varieties before. A solid chunk of fans were dying to peek behind the curtain on how Liu Song and Xi Xi got along off-camera.
The third group was another agent-actress duo, but Pei Wan and Ding Yingxue were cousins.
Ding Yingxue had made her name in serious dramas. She lacked idol-level buzz but commanded massive respect from older demographics.
She’d debuted as a child star playing a veteran actor’s daughter, then specialized in troubled teens—from puppy-love scandals to full-on delinquent girls. The lead in her latest breakout coming-of-age drama? Still her, at twenty-five.
Ding Yingxue’s last variety gig had been a travel show that ended on a sour note. She’d only said yes to this one after hearing her cousin would be along for the ride.
The show kicked off Saturday via the Whale Entertainment App’s dedicated live stream column, featuring three split-screen angles for viewers to pick their favorite artist’s feed.
Day one skipped the all-day broadcast—no car ride footage.
Still, the “Pastoral Idyll: Me and My Agent” column pinged at eight sharp.
Fans lured by the low-effort hype poured in bright and early, camping out for their faves.
【Qiu Chao baby, I’m here!!】
【Ding Yingxue!! My girl, you ghost us for ages and now a 22-day variety? I’m hyped!】
【Ding Yingxue’s such an introvert though. Last travel show edited her into oblivion and she cried. Live stream can’t fake that!】
【No sweat, her cousin’s tagging along this time. Total vacation vibes lol】
【Anyone else here just for my dream top, Young Boss Yan? (fidgets)】
【If you haven’t seen Lin Chi’s TikTok of Yan Muyu, you ain’t a real bottom!】
Yan Muyu was supposed to have two days off. In reality, it was barely half.
The first night yielded no distractions for blowing off steam, so it ended with Qiu Chao laying down the law. Yan Muyu spent the entire night over at her place in B Block.
The shameless Qiu Chao had even shamelessly flashed the bite mark on her thigh, claiming Yan Muyu had left it back when she was twenty-two. So deep. So painful. So damn good. It had ruined her for every partner who’d come after, killing their interest on sight.
As if Yan Muyu had committed some unforgivable crime.
Yan Muyu tuned out the bullshit. She knew exactly how pinned down she was by Qiu Chao right now.
An international heavyweight with bottomless appetites and a seductive streak a mile wide, acting like she’d drag them both down in flames if Yan Muyu dared look elsewhere.
Yan Muyu was fresh out of comebacks.
Qiu Chao might be fine tanking her reputation. Yan Muyu sure as hell wasn’t signing up for the ride.
She still planned to hand the company back to Yan Kai intact once he woke up—then get back to her carefree life.
But she couldn’t deny Qiu Chao’s point, either.
She truly couldn’t find anyone else whose body meshed with hers like that.
Yan Muyu had zero interest in soulmates. Life was solitary by design; freedom trumped love every time.
Love was a sudden squall—fierce but fleeting, never built to last. Marriage and contracts were unnatural burdens. Humans were wired to chase novelty, loving whoever caught their eye next.
Even if the body stayed loyal, the mind would stray.
Better to lean into it. Carpe diem.
Shen Tianqing swore up and down her love for Shi Xu, yet she kept a body double close by, molding her with lingering stares to mimic the ghost.
Proof positive: nothing bridged the gap across death.
Even now, the way Shen Tianqing was handing her heart to Meng Heng felt like a betrayal of her own vows to Yan Muyu.
Love didn’t play fair. You thought you loved the one who’d died, but some living soul with half their vibe could still pull you in.
Yan Muyu kept that observation locked away.
She was terrified Shen Tianqing would spiral again—praying till her head split open on temple stone, nearly landing in jail for arson.
The next day, Yan Muyu paid a visit to Zhen Shu.
The woman her brother Yan Kai had crushed on as a teen. The one he’d never won. The one Qiu Chao resembled, just a little.
Zhen Shu was north of forty now, but she defied every tired stereotype about women that age.
Her presence stood in stark contrast to Qiu Chao’s flashy allure—like a pristine moon hanging high and flawless. Widowed or not, she radiated the serene compassion of a jade Guanyin.
Yan Muyu’s first glimpse of Zhen Shu had come back in elementary school.
Yan Kai had taken her hand and declared, “Little sis, that’s the woman I like.”
Zhen Shu was stunning, sure—but to Yan Muyu, she seemed too remote. The type who didn’t know how to love.
Just like Lin Chi had put it: someone like Sister Zhen Shu was more like a celestial being slumming it in the mortal world for tribulation.
Zhen Shu had been raised in the lap of luxury, her family a lineage of political heavyweights. Her marriage? Handpicked by her parents, no choice in the matter.
She’d known about Yan Kai’s feelings, of course.
Whether she’d ever returned them? Yan Muyu set that aside. Their families were worlds apart—nowhere near marriage material.
The Yan Family had a notorious rep for chaos. Mistresses everywhere—third, fourth, fifth. The legitimate wife was a frail wisp like Lin Daiyu; one confrontation with a side chick left her bedridden, and she moved out. Yan Muyu had grown up hearing the sneers about her family’s trashy drama.
Yan Kai was the eldest son in that cesspool of a dynasty, with a pack of half-siblings from his father’s flings below him.
His teenage years were anything but peaceful. His father was a walking scandal who didn’t see the heir apparent as a given. Hell, he seemed to enjoy pitting them against each other like gladiators in the Colosseum, munching snacks from the stands with his latest fling.
All the stability Yan Muyu had ever known came from Yan Kai.
She respected him. Wanted him happy.
She just hadn’t expected him to still be whispering Zhen Shu’s name in his coma.
He wasn’t some starry-eyed kid anymore. Life on the line, and his thoughts drifted to a first love long out of touch.
Yan Muyu spent the rest of the afternoon deep in conversation with Zhen Shu.
She begged her to visit Yan Kai, even if hopes were slim. “I’m scared my brother might never wake up in this lifetime.”
“Sister Zhen Shu, just take a look at him. For me.”
Zhen Shu had been widowed for years. Word in elite circles was she was being lined up for a second marriage, though no names had leaked yet.
Age didn’t grant her full autonomy anymore. Her social circle was locked in from childhood—lifelong unless business clashed.
Securing this sit-down had taken pulling strings through Lin Chi.
Zhen Shu had a ribbon-cutting gig, with twenty minutes free afterward.
“I’ve heard about him,” Zhen Shu said.
Her voice was gentle as ever, soft and yielding. “But I have no reason to visit.”
Yan Muyu hurried to reply, “I know your daughter’s been hospitalized there lately.”
Zhen Shu’s gaze snapped up. Yan Muyu murmured an apology.
A few seconds ticked by before Zhen Shu spoke again. “I hear you’ve been getting close to Yan Kai’s ex lately.”
Qiu Chao’s fame had held steady for twelve unbroken years.
Even after going international, domestic official shows name-dropped her plenty.
Plenty of insiders might not know Zhen Shu by sight but would peg Qiu Chao as her doppelgänger.
The resemblance inevitably dredged up old gossip: Yan Kai’s puppy love, the Zhens’ shutdown and humiliation.
No rags-to-riches revenge arc here. No thirty-year river bend. Every step Yan Kai took had been a grind. More than once, Yan Muyu had offered to quit the antics. But he’d insisted he needed her chaos.
Yan Muyu tilted her head. “You mean Qiu Chao?”
She smiled. “Sister Zhen Shu, don’t put any stock in those rumors. Qiu Chao is nothing like you.”
Her expression was all sunshine and smiles on the surface, but inside she was a tangled mess as she forced out the words, “Actually, the person she likes… is women.”
“What?” Zhen Shu blinked.
Yan Muyu had told plenty of lies over the course of her life. Back in her school days, she’d wracked her brains for excuses to ditch class—from stomachaches to “my dad just died” or even “the corpse came back to life during cremation.”
She just couldn’t lie about romance, though. She had a natural aversion to fibbing in front of pretty girls.
Zhen Shu was beautiful, of course, but Yan Muyu delivered her lie with a straight face and steady heartbeat, as if she were simply confiding a heartfelt secret.
“Qiu Chao and my brother were never actually in love.”
Yan Muyu was starting to think she had real talent for spinning tales. “When my brother went public with Qiu Chao back then, it was really because he hoped you’d come back to him…”
The woman seated across from her wore a light gauze dress—nothing flashy, just an air of refined poise that made it hard to picture her ever having a wild, youthful phase.
“Pretty laughable, isn’t it?” Yan Muyu said.
She pursed her lips. “My brother’s never himself around you. He’s never like Yan Kai at all.”
“Then why does everyone say you hate Qiu Chao?” Zhen Shu asked.
If anyone else had been sitting across from her, Yan Muyu probably wouldn’t have kept the conversation going this long.
But she needed something from Zhen Shu. And deep down, she even sensed that these two grown adults might still have a spark of hope.
“Rather than ‘hate,’ it’s more like…” Yan Muyu trailed off.
Zhen Shu watched her expectantly. Yan Muyu reached over to refill her tea. “So, has Sister Zhen Shu agreed yet?”
“Agree to what, and I’ll tell you.”
~~~
Yan Muyu felt like chatting with Zhen Shu was more exhausting than a full night tangled up with Qiu Chao.
She needed ages to clear her head afterward, mulling over how to rekindle that pure spark between a middle-aged man and woman.
All that sister-brother stuff? Yan Kai never called Zhen Shu “sister” to her face.
It was driving Yan Muyu up the wall. She spent the whole next day stewing over it.
The night before the variety show’s premiere, Xing Wen had reminded Yan Muyu a dozen times about the surprise live streams, but Yan Muyu had just mumbled vague agreements.
Viewers clicking into the live feed the next day never expected to see Yan Muyu answer the door looking like such a hot mess.
【I thought the top-floor hotel suite would be spotless and dripping with luxury…】
【…Young Boss Yan, that hair is avant-garde as hell.】
【So many bottles on the table—what the heck was she doing last night?】
Xing Wen: …
Lou Haiyan, who’d tagged along out of worry: …
“What time is it?” Yan Muyu mumbled.
She swung the door open without a hint of panic that the cameras were already rolling, squinting blearily at the filming equipment.
She was completely, utterly not awake.
Xing Wen felt a wave of despair. She’d really thought Yan Muyu would have her luggage packed and ready—but no, it was clear the woman hadn’t even set an alarm.
Crayons were still scattered across the living room table, leftovers from when Yan Tianxing had been there.
Scrawled on top in childish, wobbly letters—ones that took some squinting to read but somehow clicked into place all at once—were the huge words:
Yan Muyu is a pig.
Right below it, Yan Muyu’s own rebuttal: I’m a pig, you’re Pig Niece.
Her crayon handwriting had a touch of elegant calligraphy to it, which was a shame because the message itself was anything but refined.
Maybe it was her sleeping position from the night before, but Yan Muyu’s shirt collar hung open wide when she stumbled out of bed.
【What did I just see?!】
【Not gonna lie… it lives up to the legends…】
Even the director was starting to panic, terrified he’d get canned on the spot.
After all, Yan Muyu was Whale Entertainment’s boss now.
A knock sounded at the door the next moment. A polished, glamorous female star stood outside at first, beaming. “Ready to roll out?”
But then Qiu Chao breezed right in like she owned the place, shooting Yan Muyu a look loaded with meaning.
“Little Yan, still half-asleep? Want me to…”
