Chapter Thirty-Seven: Whispered Conversations Behind One's Back

Some people even expressed envy toward Song Waning and Wen Jingxing.

[Last time Song Waning earned a pass to skip a mission, and this time she gets another one!]
[Her luck is incredible.]
[Isn’t it just true strength, though?]

Today’s livestream ended amidst a lively chatter from the viewers, but overall, it was one of those rare, peaceful days.

The guests’ recording session was almost over as well, so they each returned to their own small cottages.

Since they had defeated Jian An’an, they were spared from doing any extra tasks, and now Song Waning was in such high spirits that she was humming as she walked.

Wen Jingxing listened closely, but couldn’t figure out which song she was humming.

He wondered if maybe he just didn’t listen to enough music.

Little did he know, the tune Song Waning was humming didn’t even exist in this world—no matter what music recognition app you used, it wouldn’t be found.

“Um… Wen Jingxing, I don’t have anything to do tomorrow. Can I come to your room?”

Though Song Waning usually acted just like someone from this world, she was, after all, from ancient times. There were still many things she didn’t quite understand—like the smartphone, for instance.

Wen Jingxing, hearing her, instantly knew what she meant and nodded casually, “You can come whenever you like. Tonight is fine too. You don’t have to wait for tomorrow.”

The cameraman following behind them gasped in excitement—this was too much! He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to witness his favorite couple inviting each other to do… that!

If they were already this close, did it mean there was no way they’d ever get divorced?

He always said, the couples he shipped never broke up.

Obviously, the cameraman’s thoughts had gone completely astray.

He couldn’t even wait a single moment. With one hand holding the camera and the other fishing out his phone, he opened the work group chat—the exclusive chat for the on-set camera crew.

I Hate Bad Endings: [Breaking news!!!]

Diligent But Slacking: [You said that last time. Not impressed. All you had was them holding hands. If you’re so bold, show me a kiss.]

Working Every Day: [To be fair, I like this couple too, but your “news” last time was not exciting at all.]

I Want the World’s Lightest Camera: [Why aren’t you saying anything? And isn’t this outside work hours? Why does everyone pop up the second he shares news?]

Diligent But Slacking: [Aren’t you online too…?]

I Hate Bad Endings: [Let’s skip the small talk.]

I Hate Bad Endings: [You’ll love tonight’s scoop, I promise!]

Working Every Day: [Stop keeping us in suspense.]

I Hate Bad Endings: [Today! They made plans to go to Wen Jingxing’s room together!]

Diligent But Slacking: [Tch—what’s so special about someone going to a room?]

I Hate Bad Endings: [You don’t get it. A man and a woman alone together in one room—something’s bound to happen. Most importantly, Wen Jingxing said she could go whenever she wanted, even tonight. The guests don’t have phones or anything to play with. What do you think they’re going to do in the room together?]

Working Every Day: [Damn, that actually makes a lot of sense!]

…

The cameraman was so engrossed in chatting that he didn’t notice he was falling farther and farther behind Song Waning and Wen Jingxing.

Song Waning, realizing the cameraman hadn’t kept up, turned to see him glued to his phone and went over to see what he was up to.

He was still swearing to his colleagues in the group chat.

I Want the World’s Lightest Camera: [I won’t believe it unless… that scene makes it into the final episode.]

Working Every Day: [Exactly. You just want to see it, right? I don’t believe you either. It has to be in the main cut.]

I Hate Bad Endings: [Don’t worry, I’ll definitely…]

Just then, a voice sounded above his head, “What are you doing?”

Startled out of his wits, he looked up to see Song Waning. Relieved, he caught her glancing at his phone and remembered he’d just been talking about her in the chat—cold sweat broke out all over him.

He rubbed his bald head awkwardly and forced a laugh, “You didn’t see anything, right?”

He hadn’t said much, but gossiping behind someone’s back is never a good look.

He had no idea when Song Waning had come over, nor how much she’d seen.

Song Waning shrugged, “No, I just came to remind you to keep up.”

The cameraman couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth, but he quickly put his phone away and got back to work.

He left behind a group of colleagues in the chat, all shouting that he was being unethical for leaving them hanging.

Compared to the lighthearted and mischievous mood here, things on Jian An’an’s side were distinctly lifeless.

I Hate Bad Endings was assigned to follow Song Waning, while the very active Diligent But Slacking—who always chimed in the moment there was gossip—was a single man in his early thirties.

He was specifically tasked with filming Jian An’an.

The other camera operators would occasionally share gossip about their assigned guests, but he never did.

People had asked him why, but he simply replied that he didn’t like talking about such things.

Yet, whenever others started gossiping, he always joined in enthusiastically.

The real reason he never shared anything about Jian An’an was that she always felt fake to him.

Just like now—she looked obviously upset, but when Jin Jianyi asked her anything, she’d respond with a gentle smile.

She seemed to have no flaws, and yet each of her virtues felt contrived.

He’d never say this aloud, though. If someone put it online, her fans would tear him apart.

Jian An’an remained silent all the way back. Jin Jianyi thought for a moment and said, “An’an must blame me. I didn’t win the game, so you have to suffer too.”

Jian An’an shook her head and smiled, “It’s alright, Brother Jianyi. Besides, you’re taking the punishment with me. There are always winners and losers in games. If anything, I was the one dragging you down—I couldn’t help much at all.”

Jin Jianyi quickly waved his hands, “No, you already did great. You never once made things difficult for me.”

The cameraman’s mouth twitched—goodness, love really did make people lose their minds. Was he just complimenting her for the sake of it?

Once they reached the cottage, the camera crew hurried off with their equipment—not for any particular reason, but simply because they all sensed that the atmosphere was off and their instincts told them something big was about to happen.

It was better to spend as little time as possible in such a place.

Jian An’an didn’t say anything else, nor did she respond to Jin Jianyi on the way.

Even a fool like Jin Jianyi could tell she was genuinely upset and wanted to cheer her up, but he had no idea what to say.

He hesitated the entire way, but nothing came to mind.

Only once they were inside did Jian An’an finally smile and say, “Brother Jianyi, you should go rest. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow, and I need to apply some medicine later.”

Jin Jianyi, however, was thinking that Jian An’an was just too strong. She was clearly unhappy, yet she forced herself to smile—was it just so he wouldn’t worry?