Chapter 30: 030

The night on the sea island hung thick as ink.

Only the campfire in the mountain stream flickered with orange-yellow flames, crackling now and then to pierce the heavy silence.

The four guests sat around it in uneasy quiet, exchanging no words.

After a moment, Chi Huo broke the silence. “Let’s eat first. The food’s getting cold.”

No one stirred.

Chi Huo let out a sigh. “No one saw this coming, but it’s happened now, so we’ve got to face it head-on.”

Still, no one moved.

Chi Huo: …

“Come on, you’re not eating, not sleeping—what would people think happened?” He paused, softening his voice to sound more convincing. “Teacher Song’s just locked in the Little Black Room. She’s not out of the show. If she comes back and sees the dinner she worked so hard on gone to waste, she’ll be heartbroken.”

At those words, the others finally showed some reaction.

Qin Yi turned her gaze slightly toward Li Xingruo beside her. “I’ll grab the bowls and chopsticks,” she said softly.

She gathered the bamboo chopsticks scattered by the stove, rinsed them clean at the edge of the pool, dried them off, and passed them around.

Two hours earlier, a feast like this in the wilderness would have had them cheering with delight.

But now, with one person missing, no one had any appetite. The food sat heavy and tasteless in their mouths.

Qin Yi picked up a piece of fish belly, meticulously plucked out the tiny bones, and slipped it into Li Xingruo’s bowl without a second thought.

Li Xingruo, still seething, didn’t even notice.

She ate the boneless fish while stewing over what had happened, her anger only growing.

Across the flames, she shot a fierce glare at the downcast male guest sitting opposite—the silent one whose head hung low. The orange-red firelight danced wildly in her almond-shaped eyes.

Song Guiya was the one who’d saved a life, yet the director had ordered her straight into the Little Black Room without even letting her touch the meal she’d cooked herself.

Meanwhile, that idiot Du Difeng sat there perfectly fine.

Shocked or lost in thought, the usually nonstop talker now stared blankly into the fire.

In truth, besides his stupidity, he hadn’t done anything terribly wrong.

But Li Xingruo couldn’t stand the sight of him.

Two hours earlier.

Du Difeng had been on the verge of slicing his own head off when Song Guiya—who’d been cooking by the stove—suddenly appeared in front of him. With a swift kick, she sent him flying. The sickle slipped from his grasp and into hers.

Du Difeng clambered out of the pool, drenched and disheveled, only to find Song Guiya standing exactly where he’d been, her eyes icy as she looked down at him.

“Song Guiya, what the hell? Why’d you kick me?!”

She said nothing. Instead, she raised the sickle high and brought it slashing down with full force—stopping abruptly just an inch from his neck.

Realization dawned on Du Difeng. His pupils shrank; his hands flew to the back of his neck.

Had he… almost killed himself?

A surge of terror and regret hit him like a tidal wave. His legs buckled, and he collapsed back into the water, his mind a total blank.

With the crisis averted, the onlookers on shore breathed a collective sigh of relief.

The cameraman who’d jumped in climbed back up, cradling his shattered camera and begging the director for reimbursement.

In the live stream room, the frozen screen sprang back to life as comments flooded in.

“Program crew, can you reimburse the keyboard I smashed yelling at Du Difeng to stop?”

“Me too—my phone screen’s glitching out from all my frantic poking etj#&kla*61#%…”

“That was way too close. I was just here for some variety show fun, and nearly got a live beheading. Talk about trauma for life.”

“If not for Song Guiya, Du Difeng would’ve been done for.”

“Keep trash-talking Song Guiya, bro, and your big sis is quitting her job to go full-time anti-fan.”

“I was in Song Guiya’s live stream. Heard Qin Yi yell, blinked, and bam—Song Guiya vanished from the screen. The camera guy must’ve been stunned; he swung the lens slow as molasses. Caught her mid-kick, sending Du Difeng flying. She was so far away—there’s no way she could’ve run there in time. How’d she do it?”

“So Song Guiya really knows lightness skill…”

“That’s insanely cool!!!”

Because it had nearly resulted in a death, this qualified as a fairly serious program mishap, and the incident promptly stirred up a major commotion online.

【Du Difeng Beheading】 and 【Song Guiya Lightness Skill Rescue】 rocketed to the top two spots on the hot search rankings with the speed of lightning.

Once something gained traction like that, the marketing accounts descended like starving wolves on the scent of blood.

To drum up traffic, they dissected video clips from every angle, even tying it back to the lightness skill controversy from the previous Dance Unlimited episode. They maliciously speculated that the Crazy Caveman production team had scripted the whole thing on purpose to boost Song Guiya.

Seeing the situation unfold, the program’s director immediately instructed his staff to get in touch with Du Difeng and Song Guiya’s agents. They rolled out emergency countermeasures to redirect public opinion onto the right path.

He might have been just a lowly variety show director, but ever since Crazy Caveman premiered, he’d stuck to one ironclad principle: no fakery allowed.

Rumors like these had to be stamped out fast.

~~~

Song Guiya trudged back to the shore, sickle in hand, only to be mobbed by the others in an instant. They chattered over one another, their excitement spilling out in a torrent.

“Yaya, that was insanely cool! I couldn’t even tell how you zipped over there!”

“Teacher Song, we would’ve been sunk without you!”

“Teacher Song, I’ve got a re…quest.”

Before Chi Huo could get the words out, two burly men in black popped up from who-knows-where. They looked vaguely familiar—like a couple of the guys who’d force-fed them those bugs earlier.

Flanking Song Guiya on either side, they declared without room for argument, “Teacher Song, you’ve broken the rules. Please come with us.”

Everyone: ???

Chi Huo and the others were utterly stunned.

Song Guiya alone seemed to have seen it coming. She gave a slight nod and replied calmly, “All right.”

“Hey! Hold on!” Li Xingruo blurted out in a panic. “What do you mean, broken the rules? Where are you taking Yaya?”

Song Guiya shot a glance at the men in black. When they didn’t object, she explained, “I signed a safety agreement before filming started. One clause bans using lightness skills during recording. Breaking it means leaving the show.”

Everyone: !!!

“We signed safety agreements too, and I didn’t see anything like that!” Li Xingruo turned to Qin Yi and Chi Huo. “Was it in yours?”

Qin Yi shook her head.

Chi Huo’s face twisted with complicated emotions, a hint of envy creeping into his voice. “The production team doesn’t need to include that rule for us.”

After all, they couldn’t lightness-skill their way out of a paper bag!

Li Xingruo: ……

Good point.

In her panic, she’d forgotten all about it.

Out of all the guests, Song Guiya was the only one trained in martial arts who could actually use lightness skills. But she’d gone days without deploying them, so it had slipped everyone’s minds.

The production team had added the clause to her agreement specifically after digging deep into her background and giving it serious thought.

For one thing, it was a nightmare for the cameramen.

Not a single one of the crew’s cameramen knew lightness skills. They couldn’t exactly have Song Guiya soaring through the air while they scrambled after her on foot, right?

Even assuming they could keep up.

For another, the whole point of the show was to showcase the guests’ ingenuity and grit amid hardship—to spark some lighthearted drama for the viewers—not to let them hack the game and steamroll everything.

Without restrictions, any guest with cash could chopper in supplies within minutes.

Might as well rebrand it a celebrity getaway at that point.

Song Guiya’s lightness skills counted as a massive exploit, so banning them fit the rules perfectly.

Right then, the live stream barrage lit up with scrolling comments.

“No wonder Song Guiya climbed that tree the old-fashioned way to sleep instead of pulling off a Hawk Flip. The production team’s got her on a leash—here I thought her fans were full of hot air.”

“No wonder Huo Bro’s eyes were sparkling whenever he chatted with Song Guiya. Martial arts soul activated.”

“…”

Just as they were about to lead Song Guiya away, Li Xingruo grabbed her arm and fixed the men in black with a glare.

“If not for Yaya, this show would’ve been shut down for good. Surely you can cut her some slack this once?”

“Right—Teacher Song was saving a life. That’s not cheating.” Qin Yi stepped up beside her.

“Come on, big bros, bend the rules a little.” Chi Huo had signed up for Crazy Caveman expressly to befriend Song Guiya; the last thing he wanted was for her to go.

Viewers in the live stream room piled on with objections, some even dropping ultimatums: if Song Guiya left, so would they.

The men in black exchanged a look, clear helplessness in their eyes.

They were merely following protocol and had no authority to make decisions, but with these three refusing to back down, the crew found themselves in a bind as well.

Just as the standoff reached an impasse, the director’s voice crackled over the walkie-talkie.

“Given these exceptional circumstances, Song Guiya’s actions do not constitute cheating. However, the program’s rules exist to foster healthy development and ensure we keep delivering quality content to our viewers. Thus, regardless of the reason, a violation is a violation. The program crew has decided on a light punishment: Song Guiya will be confined to the Little Black Room for twelve hours, after which she may resume filming.”

Being locked in the Little Black Room meant total isolation—no activities, no usable footage from the guest.

For any celebrity, that was no trivial setback.

Yet for Song Guiya, the verdict felt eminently fair.

Besides, twelve hours from now was just enough time for a solid night’s sleep.

At the director’s words, the three of them visibly relaxed.

Song Guiya turned to Li Xingruo and the others, the corners of her slender lips curving upward in a gentle smile. Her voice was soft and warm. “Thank you.”

The three shared knowing smiles.

The man in black escorted Song Guiya away, bringing her to the Little Black Room.

What they called the Little Black Room was little more than a small black tent designed to hold just one person.

Zip it shut, and it was windproof and insect-proof—far cozier than the makeshift shelters the group had rigged up.

Before she ducked inside, Cameraman Xiao Liu suddenly appeared out of nowhere, transforming on the spot into Interviewer Xiao Liu. “Teacher Song,” he asked, “do you have any final words for the camera?”

Song Guiya paused thoughtfully for a moment. Then, with a solemn expression and earnest tone, she faced the lens and recited a public service slogan.

“Cherish life. Stay away from danger.”

With that, she lifted the tent flap, stooped to enter, and settled in for twelve hours of meditation and rest.

Cameraman Xiao Liu: …

That was it?

After all the begging he’d done with the director for this chance, she wasn’t even going to seize the moment? No batting her eyelashes, no playing cute for the fans, no sucking up a fresh wave of followers?