Chapter 24: 024 Part 3

Li Xingruo listened without a hint of mockery at his youthful daydreams. Instead, she replied earnestly, “You’re right. That was pretty foresighted of you.”

Chi Huo paused for a beat, then broke into a grin.

He stoked the flames higher before standing and saying, “I’ll go prep dinner. Keep an eye on the fire and toss on some branches if it dies down—those dry ones over there are fine.”

“Okay.”

By the time the rabbit was roasted, night had fallen thick and heavy. Chi Huo hadn’t found any seasoning plants, so the two of them ate the meat plain.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t half bad.

He glanced at Li Xingruo, who was happily gnawing away at a rabbit leg, and teased, “I figured you’d be one of those girls.”

She looked up at him. “One of what kind?”

In an instant, Chi Huo adopted a high-pitched, girly voice. “How can you eat bunny? Bunnies are sooo cute!”

Li Xingruo shot him a glare. “Bunnies are so cute, I could eat three in one go.”

The viewers in Chi Huo’s live stream were instantly smitten by Li Xingruo’s unexpected charm.

“Hahaha, Dancer Lady, have some self-respect!”

“Who knew Li Xingruo could be this adorable after ditching her ice-queen persona? The real Ruoruo is way more genuine and lovable!”

“Star Fans thank Teacher Chi for taking care of Ruoruo. Our little sis finally won’t go hungry!”

“Big bro looking after little sis is only right. Huo Bro’s hilarious and such a gentleman—shoutout to Huo Bro!”

“TBH, when Huo Bro talked about time-traveling, it was kinda chuuni in a funny way, haha.”

“Teacher Chi, you’re the handsome pinnacle of comedy—don’t go full edgelord teen on us!”

…

Qin Yi and Du Difeng had trudged along, stopping and starting all afternoon, but they still hadn’t found a decent spot to bed down for the night.

Worse, their meager stash of coconuts was gone. Dinner consisted of just a few bird eggs Qin Yi had knocked from a tree—raw, with a strong fishy tang.

But something was better than nothing.

As night deepened, it was too risky to wander the woods, so they settled for a clearing and threw together a couple of makeshift “beds” from branches and leaves.

Neither of them knew how to start a fire, and they were both wary of nocturnal beasts.

Du Difeng hadn’t been much help during the day, so that evening he stepped up. “You sleep first. I’ll keep watch and wake you when I can’t stay up anymore.”

Taking turns was better than neither getting any rest.

Qin Yi agreed and seized the chance to recover her strength.

Du Difeng was a natural night owl anyway, and it was only eight or nine o’clock—not even late for him.

With no gadgets to distract him, though, it got boring fast. He passed the time by mentally composing tunes.

Of the paired guests who’d linked up, that left Chen Hanxuan and Song Guiya still flying solo.

Chen Hanxuan lucked out atop a ridge, discovering a small cave.

He inspected it thoroughly—no signs of animals, just bare rock and loose stones.

It was a natural formation, carved by geological shifts, and perfect shelter.

After a full day of hunger, it was a small comfort.

Meanwhile, Song Guiya was digging a hole in the dark beneath a towering banyan tree.

Her live stream viewers grew more baffled by the second.

“It’s pitch black out—why isn’t Song Guiya finding a place to crash? What’s she doing?”

“She gonna bury herself or something?”

“LOL, sea island nights get chilly, and the soil’s even colder. Sleeping underground would have her sick as a dog.”

But soon enough, the audience realized they’d misjudged.

Song Guiya was digging to store food.

She hadn’t finished the fish and chicken she’d roasted that afternoon, so she’d wrapped the leftovers in bamboo leaves and carried them along.

Burying them in the cooler soil would mask the scent from beasts and slow spoilage—a smart survival tactic.

It was a common trick in the wild, same principle as a root cellar.

“No wonder my dog always buries his food.”

“Kinda… cute, actually.”

With that done, Song Guiya prepared to rest.

Before settling in, she glanced at Xiao Liu, who was still shouldering the camera, her eyes asking where he planned to sleep.

Xiao Liu patted his backpack, signaling that he had a sleeping bag.

But out here in this remote wilderness, even with a sleeping bag, sleeping on the ground for a night would be brutal.

Xiao Liu had already braced himself for sore back and legs the next day when Song Guiya silently walked up beside him.

“Hold on tight,” said Song Guiya.

Xiao Liu: ?

The next second—

Whoosh!

Xiao Liu was hurled onto a banyan tree branch three meters up.

Xiao Liu: ???

The audience: !!!

“What’s going on? Why did the camera just fly up?”

“Aaah, infrared cam’s pitch black—can’t see a thing! Cameraman bro, you still there?”

“Hello? Where’d he go?”

Baffled, the viewers flooded the live stream chat with messages. Director Wang immediately radioed Xiao Liu through his earpiece.

The dazed Xiao Liu finally came to his senses.

He was perched on a broad branch wide enough for a grown man to stretch out flat.

To sleep at night, he could simply lash his sleeping bag to the branches—no risk of tumbling off. Far safer and comfier than the ground.

But the burning question was…

How in the world had a burly, six-foot-something muscle man like him been chucked up a tree by a slender young woman?!

The director’s frantic yells in his earpiece snapped him back to duty.

Stifling his shock, he swung the camera toward Song Guiya, restoring the feed.

There she was, effortlessly scaling another massive banyan tree. She settled into a spot with branching limbs, leaning against the trunk in a cozy pose before closing her eyes to rest.

“She’s… sleeping in the tree?”

“Looks like it. Kinda badass.”

“Didn’t they say Song Guiya knows lightness skill? Why climb? Shouldn’t it be a hawk flip right up? (lol)”

“Out in the sticks? Where’s she gonna snag a wire harness? Lights out, folks.”

“No one’s curious how the cameraman got up there?”

“…”

The guests had turned in early. The cameramen secured their rigs, checked their gear, and settled in for rest.

Some viewers lingered at their screens, hoping for nocturnal drama.

Others saved recordings to savor their idols’ thrilling day all over again.

Still others powered down and headed out for the city’s glittering nightlife.

The empty wilds lay shrouded in darkness, broken only by the occasional sea breeze laden with that briny coastal tang.

Meanwhile, the towering city skyline blazed with lights. Bustling streets hummed with endless traffic and raucous din.

In the penthouse suite of Jiangcheng Hotel, Chi Yu led the assistant team in rapt attention as Xi Tongyue watched the “Crazy Caveman” live stream recording.

To be precise, it was Song Guiya’s solo footage.

They hit the wild barbecue segment just as room service wheeled in dinner.

A lavish spread of dishes covered the table. Assistants munched gourmet fare while watching Song Guiya tear into a chicken leg.

Pure mukbang vibes—utterly mouthwatering.

Xi Tongyue barely touched her chopsticks, prompting one assistant to ask, “Teacher Xi, you feeling okay?”

Xi Tongyue waved them off. “Keep eating. Don’t mind me.”

Perplexed and concerned for their boss, the assistants turned expectant eyes to her personal aide, Chi Yu.

Chi Yu ignored them, head down, focused on her plate.

Such a fuss. Teacher Xi was simply aching for her Little Crow’s meager meals.

Chi Yu’s nonchalance reassured them—Teacher Xi was fine. They relaxed and dove back into video and dinner.

As plates cleared, Huo Yao arrived.

“Sister Huo.”

Greetings exchanged, the assistants whisked away the table settings and slipped out.

Huo Yao noted the pristine, untouched dishes from Xi Tongyue’s spot.

Her gaze shifted to Xi Tongyue, lost in a trance over Song Guiya’s indistinct sleeping face on the stream.

Once the room emptied and the door clicked shut, Huo Yao sighed in exasperation. “Even if your Song Guiya’s a feast for the eyes, you can’t live on looks alone. You’ve been run ragged lately—if you skip meals, are you out to destroy yourself?”

Xi Tongyue glanced at her. “What brings you here?”

Seeing her dismiss it outright, Huo Yao threw up her hands.

She flipped open her folder and thrust it under Xi Tongyue’s nose. “Take a look.”

“You handed that prime gig to Song Guiya, and not everyone’s thrilled. Several top prospects are already shopping themselves to rival agencies on the down-low.”

Xi Tongyue’s eyes never left the stream. “Not everyone’s her.”

Huo Yao had originally thought Xi Tongyue meant that not just anyone was worth her time and effort.

She was just about to speak up and advise her to stay impartial when she caught sight of Song Guiya’s effortless performance on the show out of the corner of her eye. Only then did it click for Huo Yao.

What she meant was this: if Song Guiya didn’t already possess these extraordinary abilities, no amount of resources would make a difference.

In dire straits, people couldn’t juggle everything, so every action carried the risk of unintentionally revealing their true colors.

The company’s artists already started from a higher baseline than the rest, making it even more likely they’d shatter their carefully crafted personas on a program like this.

Only someone like Song Guiya—an artist who’d been mired in scandal from day one, with no persona left to ruin—was truly suited for it.

And the shocking, unexpected skills she displayed would only heighten the audience’s delight, sparking affection and paving the way for a stunning comeback.

So it wasn’t just about pulling strings for her little lover, after all.

That made sense. Xi Tongyue wasn’t the type to blur the lines between personal and professional.

As the company’s shadowy powerhouse, she would never jeopardize the empire she’d built just for a fling.

Still, Huo Yao couldn’t be blamed for the misunderstanding.

After all, she hadn’t realized Song Guiya was hiding so many killer skills.

“Got it. I know how to handle things.”

“Oh, and get some rest soon. No all-nighters watching videos—we’ve got a flight at five a.m.”

Xi Tongyue glanced up. “Huo Yao, clear my end-of-month schedule. I need a full week free.”

Xi Tongyue almost never requested changes to her itinerary herself.

The last time had been to drop everything for a guest spot as a mystery mentor on that obscure variety show Dance Unlimited.

For some inexplicable reason, a wild thought bubbled up in Huo Yao’s mind. “Please don’t tell me you’re signing up for Island Survival.”

Xi Tongyue arched a brow and offered sincere praise. “President Huo’s instincts are sharper than ever.”

Huo Yao: …

Screw not mixing business with pleasure—it was all nonsense!

She had no patience to bicker with this lust-addled “mad emperor.” With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.

In the hallway, Chi Yu bumped into the fuming Huo Yao and asked softly, “Sister Huo, did Teacher Xi upset you?”

Huo Yao held back, again and again, at the sight of Chi Yu’s smile—forced through her obvious worry.

The girl was sharp. Every time Xi Tongyue drove her to the brink, Chi Yu would show up right on cue, subtly coaxing out her rage without a word.

That kept things from boiling over into real resentment between her and Xi Tongyue, no matter how heated the arguments got.

In the end, they always remained the closest of partners.

But this time, Huo Yao didn’t lash out. She simply said coolly, “Bring Teacher Xi a late-night snack later. Remind her to turn in early—you too.”

Chi Yu blinked in surprise, then nodded. “Got it.”