Chapter 44: Want a Hug

When Rong Si came out of the bathroom, Cheng Jinzhi was swinging her slender legs on the couch, crunching on snacks. Seeing Rong Si, she even choked a little and hastily hid the snacks behind her. She was like a little hamster caught sneaking food, blinking her round eyes innocently.

Jinzhi was caught off guard—she hadn’t expected Rong Si to come out so quickly. Then again, Rong Si always showered faster than she did. Sometimes, when soaking in the tub was pleasant, Jinzhi would even doze off in there. “Do you want me to dry your hair?”

“No need. Go wash up.” Rong Si towel-dried her hair. “What do you want to eat? I’ll cook for you.”

During the days they hadn’t spoken, Jinzhi hadn’t had a chance to eat Rong Si’s cooking. “Meat…”

“Mm.”

“Isn’t it too late?”

“You’re not fat.”

“Female celebrities can’t use ‘not fat’ as the standard.”

“What kind of meat?”

“Beef!” Her mouth was fast again.

Jinzhi showered quickly this time and came out to wait for Rong Si’s meat. She propped her chin on her hand, watching Rong Si work in the open western-style kitchen, then pulled out her phone and took a short video of Rong Si. “Rong Si, are you frying meat for me?”

Rong Si didn’t speak. Her slender fingers held the long cooking chopsticks, flipping the steak with great skill. Her lips were pressed into a line, looking very focused. Jinzhi remembered the last time she’d gone into the kitchen, she’d seen Rong Si massaging the beef. That’s right—massaging a raw piece of meat with the same serious expression. If Rong Si hadn’t become an actress, the nation would have lost a top-tier chef.

“Rong Si~” Jinzhi dragged out her tone, a bit coquettish.

“Mm.”

Receiving Rong Si’s response, Jinzhi seemed very pleased and made a peace sign at the camera. With a click, she posted the video to her Weibo. The aura of a life winner was too strong—hugging the thigh early was a good idea. The moment it was posted, the reposts and comments exploded like fireworks. Within two minutes, it was on the trending searches. Five minutes later, Xinqi Weibo’s official account reposted it: “Friend, do you know about Persimmon?”

Rong Si handed the ceramic plate to Jinzhi, who snapped a couple of photos before eagerly picking up her knife and fork. After one bite, she tilted her head to look at Rong Si, who was washing her hands. Jinzhi realized that Rong Si did everything seriously—even washing her hands was serious. Her hands hovered over the soap dispenser, her wrist moved, and a creamy white blob formed in her palm. She gently rubbed her palms together, washing her fingers under a modest stream of water, from fingertips to finger pads to the webs. When she was serious, even washing her hands was beautiful. Watching Rong Si’s long, fair fingers, Jinzhi swallowed. The beef went down her throat—and got stuck. Her throat wasn’t wide to begin with, and she’d swallowed without chewing, so of course it lodged.

Jinzhi covered her mouth and nose with the back of her hand, coughing several times. The more she coughed, the redder her ears grew. Rong Si quickly looked over, dried her hands, walked over, and gently patted Jinzhi’s back. While helping her breathe, she also poured her a glass of water.

After two sips, Jinzhi finally felt better. Her throat was a bit sore, and she looked up at Rong Si with watery eyes. There was still a bit of black pepper sauce at the corner of her mouth. Rong Si took a tissue and gently wiped Jinzhi’s lips. “Eat slower.”

“It’s all yours.” Rong Si’s voice was much softer than usual, not as flat. “No one’s fighting you for it.”

“Mm…” Jinzhi lowered her head and poked at the steak. Even after recovering, her ears were still red. Rong Si took her plate, sat down beside her, and began focusing on cutting the steak into small, uniform pieces. Jinzhi had no mind to tease Rong Si about her obsessive-compulsive tendencies now. She snuck bold yet shy glances at Rong Si’s fingers…

“Is it not to your taste?”

“No…” Jinzhi turned her head and took a frustrated sip of water from her cup.

Rong Si was so annoying. She wasn’t doing anything, so why wash her hands for so long? She’d completely captured Jinzhi’s attention.

DC had signed Jinzhi up for several reality shows, including “The Great Challenge.” It was one of the boldest variety shows in the country, loving to prank celebrities. Although many fans had “complaints” about the production team, it couldn’t stop the show’s popularity and buzz. “The Great Challenge” aired on CCTV, with production backing from the CCTV crew, so it was naturally proper and mainstream. At a time when other variety shows used “provoking celebrities” and “celebrities fighting each other” as their style, trying to attract ratings through drama, “The Great Challenge” stood out as refreshingly clean. Its theme was clear: challenge celebrities and dig out their extraordinary endurance. Although many fans believed many of its challenges deliberately “provoked” and “tormented” celebrities, forcing them to reveal their rage and fear, plenty of celebrities still “volunteered” to participate. Other shows’ provocations and torments were mostly just for ratings, but “The Great Challenge” built up celebrity personas while securing viewership. Of course celebrities wanted to promote their personas—to stake their own little plot of land in the fast-changing entertainment industry.

Jinzhi was exhausted on the first day of recording. Her challenge was to be a breakfast shop server. She was picked up by the crew and taken straight to the breakfast shop. She spent the night making dumplings with the boss lady, the old machine clanking in her ears. By morning, when they were steaming the dumplings, Jinzhi’s ears were still ringing. Just when she thought she could rest, the boss lady called her over to pull up the rolling shutter door, set out tables and chairs, clean up, and prepare for business.

“Boss lady, when can I rest?” Jinzhi asked.

Before the boss lady could speak, the boss spoke up.

“We’ve just started business, and you’re already done?” The boss glanced at her. “I said it yesterday: here, there are no celebrities, only employees.”

As he spoke, he walked toward the crew. “Director, don’t point the camera so close into the shop. I still have business to do in the morning.”

“Okay, we’ll arrange that.” The assistant director also said.

This breakfast shop wasn’t really a storefront—just a simple prefab activity house. It had two windows for ventilation, and the space was narrow, with fewer than seven tables. From the back kitchen to the front was only a few steps. Yesterday, Jinzhi had chatted with the boss lady. Both she and the boss were from a county town, working in this small town, always doing breakfast. A few years ago, city planning didn’t allow them to set up stalls on the street, so they rented this temporary prefab house from the neighborhood committee as their shop.

Jinzhi braced her lower back, keeping a smile for the cameras. With shows like this, you had to be a good sport—the moment you showed a black face, you’d be mocked online. She’d barely started boiling porridge when the boss called her over to fry crullers. How would Jinzhi know how to fry crullers? She fumbled around, flinging dough, and got cursed at by the boss in his dialect.

The cursing was so loud the crew all looked over, afraid Jinzhi would throw in the towel. Jinzhi held her breath and quietly dealt with the crullers with her chopsticks. Dialect—she couldn’t understand it anyway. If she didn’t want to understand, she wouldn’t dwell on it. “Mm, okay, is it like this…”

Seeing Jinzhi bow her head in “grievance,” the boss became too embarrassed to keep scolding. He just tossed out “work hard” and went back to kneading dough.

As soon as the boss left, the boss lady came over. She reached out as if to take the long chopsticks from Jinzhi’s hand, looking a bit apologetic. “You all can’t do this kind of work. Let me do it.”

Jinzhi said nothing. She watched the boss lady for a moment, noting how she dropped the crullers in. The oil splattered everywhere. Jinzhi couldn’t touch a single drop of oil—she’d pull her hand back the moment she got burned. But the boss lady had red spots on the back of her hand without any change in expression, still fishing out crullers as usual. In broken Mandarin, she said to Jinzhi, “You have to flip them. If you don’t, they’ll fry too dark.”

“Mm, mm.” Jinzhi nodded repeatedly, took the boss lady’s chopsticks, and started frying crullers. At first, she’d flinch at each sizzle, shrink back, and get burned again. Eventually she figured out the technique. Besides crullers, she even fried her own “oil eggs.” The boss lady took a bite of her oil egg and gave her a thumbs up. “Impressive!”

The boss also tried one. He didn’t say how the oil egg tasted, just: “Don’t make all sorts of nonsense. If a customer gets a stomachache, do I still have a business?”

Jinzhi silently rolled her eyes at the boss dozens of times. He was pranking her so hard she suspected he was an actor arranged by the crew.

They worked straight until noon before the boss ambled over, a homemade cigarette dangling from his mouth. “What do you want for lunch?”

“Stir-fried noodles!” Mentioning food made Jinzhi’s eyes light up, forgetting how the boss had yelled at her that morning. She was starving. Several times while serving dumplings to customers, she’d wanted to sneak an extra one from the steamer. A few customers, seeing her “longing” expression, laughed and broke apart their chopsticks as if to feed her one. Of course she couldn’t eat—not with the cameras watching, and with the boss and boss lady keeping an eye on her. If she’d actually eaten one, she’d probably have been fined. The crew had given her a task: she had to earn a certain amount of money today. If she didn’t, the mission failed.

The boss ambled back into the kitchen, cigarette in mouth, and started frying noodles. Jinzhi watched from the side, practically drooling. The first bite of steaming hot stir-fried noodles nearly made her knees buckle.

So delicious…

The breakfast shop stayed busy until the afternoon, when the boss came over and told her to rest. After two or three hours of rest, she’d have to go back and make dumplings. The prefab house was rented by the breakfast shop. Finding the rent too expensive and with no business in the afternoon or evening, they’d sublet to a late-night snack shop. The night shop opened at six in the evening and ran until two in the morning. The night shop owner seemed to recognize Jinzhi and even asked her to help out. Jinzhi, thinking she’d angered the boss that morning and probably wouldn’t earn much, started doing “part-time work.”

“Miss Cheng really can’t stop earning money.” The crew teased.

Jinzhi grumbled inwardly. Why did they make her challenge being a server? If she’d been placed in a fancy restaurant or hotel, she could at least earn some tips. Jinzhi felt she wasn’t famous enough in this small city—or maybe these people didn’t watch TV? No one treated her like a celebrity at all. Only occasionally two students would whisper, find her familiar, and come ask for an autograph.

“I promise to complete the… task assigned by the organization.” Jinzhi looked at the camera and made an exaggerated “shot” gesture, clutching her chest.

After the shift ended, the crew chatted with her. “Miss Cheng, we noticed you kept holding your lower back. Do you have a back injury?”

“No… it’s nothing serious. Just some strain from filming.”

“Thank you for your hard work today. Tonight, we’ll have someone send you some medicated plasters.”

“Mm, thank you. You’ve worked hard too, carrying those big cameras.” Jinzhi kept up her smile and shook hands with the crew.

Back in her tiny room—a small storage room behind the breakfast shop that the boss had cleared out for her—there was only a bed, with a camera above it. Soon, someone knocked. Jinzhi was sprawled on the bed, exhausted. “It’s unlocked. Come in.”

So the cameras captured a person in a hat entering. The production even cut to a close-up of Jinzhi’s expression—tired, forcing herself up. When she saw who it was, she froze first, then blinked, and her eyes turned red. “Rong Si…”