Chapter 39: 039 Meanwhile

Meanwhile.

Director Wang, standing on the other end of the Sea Island facing the ocean, was seriously questioning his life choices.

According to the planned plot, the moment Xi Tongyue ascended the Sacrificial Altar, Elder Si Zhan—one of the three elders—was supposed to quietly toss the turtle shell the High Priest had given him ahead of time onto the altar. That would create the illusion of a divine prophecy descending from the heavens.

But before he could even make his move, the Sacrificial Altar had suddenly burst into flames.

Even more absurdly, a live sea turtle had charged out of the fire carrying a stone inscribed with words, proclaiming Xi Tongyue a bearer of auspicious fortune!

From last night until noon today, Xi Tongyue had been locked in the Thatched Hut the entire time, under constant surveillance. She hadn’t done a thing all night long and hadn’t made contact with anyone.

Yet everything that had happened today had veered completely off-script.

Xi Tongyue wasn’t some real deity—how the hell had she pulled this off?

This wasn’t scientific at all!

Just as Director Wang started wondering if a staffer had been bought off, his walkie-talkie crackled with static.

He snatched it up. “You find the cause of the fire at the Sacrificial Altar yet?”

The staffer replied, “We did. There’s a convex lens deliberately fixed in place on the dirt mound behind the Sacrificial Altar. At midday sun, it was perfectly angled to beam light right onto the hemp ropes at the altar’s rear. Those ropes encircling the Sacrificial Altar had been soaked in lamp oil beforehand—that’s why the flames spread so fast.”

That was how they’d manufactured the roaring fire dragon effect behind Xi Tongyue.

The staffer went on, “We caught the sea turtle, too. Aside from the grass rope tying the stone to its shell, there’s a burnt-off section that looks like it was attached to one of the hemp ropes. When that caught fire, it snapped the grass rope, spooked the turtle, and sent it bolting out of the blaze.”

Director Wang: …

He got the mechanics—a rogue sea turtle was weird enough—but who could explain where a “primitive society” had gotten a convex lens?!

“Xiao Zhang,” Director Wang barked, “go check if Xi Tongyue’s follow cam guy got bribed.”

Xi Tongyue never had a chance to set any of this up herself. Someone had to have helped her.

Xiao Zhang hesitated. “Director Wang, I don’t think it’s the cameraman.”

Director Wang shot him a look. “Not the cameraman? Then who? You telling me it was actually divine intervention?”

Xiao Zhang: “No… it was probably Teacher Song.”

Director Wang: “Who? Song Guiya? No way—she’s been locked in the Dungeon the whole time.”

Xiao Zhang rubbed his hands, looking guilty. “Last night on my shift, Teacher Li told the camera she needed to change, so I covered the lens. It stayed dark till morning. When I sent the cameraman to check, Teacher Qin said rats got into the Dungeon overnight. While chasing them, she accidentally smashed the camera—lens in pieces all over the floor. Cameraman saw the shards, swapped it out, and left. I didn’t bother telling you.”

“Then when you mentioned the convex lens causing the fire, it clicked—camera lenses have those…”

The more Xiao Zhang talked, the blacker Director Wang’s expression grew.

Gritting his teeth, Director Wang demanded, “Three women in that Dungeon—how do you pin it on Song Guiya?”

Xiao Zhang swallowed hard. “You said it’s sea turtle breeding season, right? Told us to stick a camera on the beach for nature footage, cut it into the extras later.”

“Editor reviewing last night’s tape this morning spotted a shadowy figure. Face too blurry, but the clothes matched what the guests wear.”

Recalling the online buzz about Song Guiya being some martial arts whiz, Xiao Zhang drew his conclusion.

“No one else on this island could’ve ghosted past every camera, hit the beach, and snagged a sea turtle with a throwing knife but Teacher Song.”

With the full picture now clear, Director Wang slapped on his trademark grin and chuckled. “So let me get this straight: Xi Tongyue somehow passed a secret message to Song Guiya—who then dismantled the camera right under our noses, busted out, rigged the whole show for her, slipped back into the cell like nothing happened, and turned our Program Crew’s actors into total clowns. All while you noticed zilch?”

Sweat beaded huge on Xiao Zhang’s forehead: …

The Dungeon’s lock might’ve been styled like an antique, but it was solid iron. No normal person was breaking out of that.

Who could have imagined that there was actually a female actress in the entertainment industry who knew how to pick locks!

He had only himself to blame for being too complacent. When the guest had acted strangely, he hadn’t reported it to the director in time.

It was indeed his fault.

As his mind raced, desperately trying to figure out how to salvage the bonus for this episode, he heard Director Wang ask, “Where are Chi Huo and Du Difeng?”

Xiao Zhang hurriedly replied, “They’re still wandering in the woods. It might be hard for them to find the tribe’s location anytime soon.”

Director Wang, ever the shrewd tactician, said, “Go on, then. Give them a little hint.”

~~~

As evening drew near, Song Guiya was escorted to Xi Tongyue’s thatched hut.

This was the largest thatched hut in the tribe aside from Chief Jie’s dwelling, a testament to how smoothly the sacrificial altar plan had gone.

“From now on, you’re Chief Yue’s personal slave. Serve your honored guest well.” With that, the warrior who had brought her turned and left.

Song Guiya: ?

The hut was empty, so Song Guiya sat on the beast-skin rug to wait for Xi Tongyue’s return.

The poised primitive female slave sat boldly astride the yellow-and-black striped pelt, one hand idly toying now and then with the beast-head decoration hanging on the wall.

She had to admit, this tiger head was remarkably lifelike, its eyes almost seeming to gleam with real intelligence.

After staring at it for a while, the tiger head appeared to lose patience and slowly shifted.

Song Guiya tensed, her fists clenching—then she spotted a tiny flashing red dot in the tiger head’s other eye.

So it was a camera.

She casually unclenched her fists and continued sitting there, bored.

The viewers behind the lens: …

It wasn’t his imagination; just moments ago, he’d swear he’d felt a killing aura through the screen.

The cameraman remotely manipulating the feed to startle Song Guiya sat frozen before the monitor, the hairs on his arms still standing on end.

For a split second, he’d thought he was a dead man.

She waited a long time, but Xi Tongyue still hadn’t returned.

She was probably off discussing next steps with Chief Jie.

Propping her chin with one hand as she pondered, Song Guiya began fiddling again with the wolf tooth hanging at her chest.

When the smoothly polished wolf tooth grazed her fingertip, a strange itch rose at the bite mark on her neck. Song Guiya’s gaze deepened, and she lost herself in thought, not even noticing when Xi Tongyue entered.

Until the tall figure blocked her view.

Song Guiya looked up and met those unfathomably deep eyes.

A sea breeze wafted in, gently lifting the stray hairs at Xi Tongyue’s temple. Beneath her raven locks, her brows and eyes were as pale as snow—aloof yet proud.

She stood tall, gazing down lazily, the corners of her lips quirked in an almost-smile. Her full, crimson lips glistened with a moist, enticing sheen in the candlelight.

Irresistibly kissable.

Song Guiya’s breath hitched.

In that instant, all her swirling, uncertain thoughts suddenly crystallized into certainty.

She stood, forcing a calm expression onto her face.

She’d meant to ask about the discussion’s outcome and their next plans to mask her emotions, but remembering the camera in the hut, she changed tack at the last moment. “Chief, shall we have dinner now?”

Her eyes downcast, she looked every bit the meek slave awaiting orders.

She certainly knew how to slip into character.

Xi Tongyue’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly as she softly murmured an “Mm.”

Song Guiya immediately headed out to the kitchen to fetch food. As she passed Xi Tongyue, her steps faltered slightly—a detail the camera would interpret as a timid slave’s nerves in the presence of such an imposing chief.

Once the wooden door of the thatched hut thudded shut again, Xi Tongyue frowned ever so faintly.

By the time the food was brought back, Song Guiya’s expression had returned to normal.

Xi Tongyue pretended not to have noticed anything and had Song Guiya dine with her.

They sat facing each other. Song Guiya focused intently on the grilled fish before her, eating without a word, as if performing delicate surgery.

Xi Tongyue gave her a probing glance before casually picking up the bamboo tube in front of her and taking a sip of the mountain spring water inside.

Under Song Guiya’s faintly surprised gaze, she set the bamboo tube back down.

The rim where she’d drunk still gleamed with moisture.

Song Guiya had realized too late that Xi Tongyue had taken her bamboo tube by mistake and hadn’t had a chance to say anything.

Now, seeing Xi Tongyue lounging across from her with that leisurely air, a hint of teasing in her eyes, how could she not know it had been deliberate?

But she never imagined—teasing her at home was one thing, but now, under the gaze of countless eyes through the camera lens, Xi Tongyue wasn’t afraid of their relationship being exposed?

The viewers in the Live Stream Room didn’t disappoint. The chat exploded in a frenzy of messages.

“What did I just see!? Xi God drank from Song Guiya’s cup?!”

“AAAAH! Round it off, and that’s basically Xi Tongyue kissing Song Guiya! I’m so jealous I’m losing my mind (sobbing).”

“No need to be jealous. I am that bamboo tube.”

“Tch, I’m the water that got drunk, then.”

“Someone get these people to a psychiatrist, stat.”

As the screen filled with lemons signaling jealousy, a few standout comments slipped through.

“I heard they’re both artists under the same agency. Xi Tongyue was even a special guest on the last season of Dance Unlimited. Who knew the Movie Queen got along so well behind the scenes with a total nobody?”

“So Teacher Xi only took that dance variety show gig because of Song Guiya?”

“No wonder. I’ve never even heard of Teacher Xi dancing.”

“Holy crap, don’t tell me she’s doing Man vs. Wild this time because of Song Guiya too?”

“Miserable backstory, endlessly bullied, super OP loyal dog VS mind-game master, survival queen who schemes her way out of anything.”

“Wow, that’s fire! Shipping it preemptively out of respect!”

“No way, no way—you can ship that?”

“Song Guiya’s got what now to deserve her? Even moon-landing clout-chasing isn’t this absurd.”

“Carting off Xi God. Don’t @ that serial clout-chaser.”

The CP fans barely had time to get hooked before the solo fans crushed them flat.

CP fans never had much clout anyway. It didn’t stop them from carving out their own little corner to swoon in peace. The ones with sharper noses had even set up a Super Topic called 【Moonlit Returning Crow】.

It had only a handful of members, though.

Fans and viewers alike remained pretty level-headed overall.

After all, Xi Tongyue and Song Guiya’s standings in the entertainment industry were worlds apart. Not many people could get swept up in a ship just from one shared drink.