Hi, Wifey! [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 30

Zhou Wen scrolled through her tablet and said to Fu Xia, who was lying on the couch holding a Switch, “There are a couple of decent variety shows in November. One is a studio game show from a local station—you’ve been on it before, the one called ‘Let’s Play Together.’ The other is a new program called ‘Celebrity Homes,’ where they send a crew to film your daily life at home. The director is currently struggling to find good celebrities to feature. Both are scheduled for November. What do you think?”

Fu Xia, absentmindedly gripping her game console, asked, “Have I been on ‘Let’s Play Together’ before?”

Zhou Wen replied, “Yes, you have. Last time, you pulled the water tank lever perfectly and got completely drenched. Don’t you remember?”

Fu Xia: “Oh… now I recall. Not that one. My luck is terrible—I lose every game and always end up punished.”

Zhou Wen pulled up the poster for ‘Celebrity Homes’ and showed it to Fu Xia. “How about this one? The concept is fresh, and there’s no script. You just wait at home for the crew and behave naturally. It’s not tiring at all. Think about it?”

Fu Xia died in her game, sat up, and took the tablet from Zhou Wen. She zoomed in and out casually, then frowned at the title. “Will this work? I can’t even cook. What are they going to film?”

Zhou Wen said, “Just cram some basics before filming. It’s all for the audience anyway—just put on a show. If anything’s unfit for broadcast, the editors will cut it.”

Fu Xia asked, “When’s the filming? I’ve got stuff in November.”

Zhou Wen took back the tablet and tucked it into her bag. “What could you possibly have going on? You’re home all day, ordering takeout and barely stepping outside except to take out the trash. Don’t tell me you’re busy.”

Fu Xia fell silent and flopped back onto the couch with her console. Seeing her laze around in pink pajamas like a dead fish, Zhou Wen couldn’t resist yanking her up. “Stop eating and sleeping all day. Come here—let’s see how much weight you’ve gained.”

The moment scales were mentioned, Fu Xia immediately cowered and flashed an obedient smile. “Sister Wen, I haven’t gained weight! I send you my weight every day. Don’t be so strict. If you keep frowning, your skin will sag. You should smile more!”

Zhou Wen ignored her. She’d only come to check if Fu Xia was still alive, living alone like this.

“Alright, I’ve got other things this afternoon. No time for chit-chat.” Zhou Wen picked up her bag and said, “I’m heading out. Be careful on your own, and remember to lock the door when you sleep, got it?”

Fu Xia trotted over like an eager puppy, opening the door with a beaming smile. “Got it! Thanks for caring, Sister Wen. Drive safe and say hi to Xiao Bao for me!”

Zhou Wen rolled her eyes, brushed off the sycophantic act, and tossed over her shoulder, “I’ll contact you in a few days once the shoot dates are confirmed,” before stepping into the elevator.

Fu Xia kept watching until the elevator doors closed and took Zhou Wen away before finally letting out a long sigh of relief. The thought of appearing on a show gave her a headache, especially this kind of reality program filming private lives. Although she knew the production would keep her home address confidential, she still felt somewhat uneasy.

After all, she’d only moved into this new place less than a month ago. Moving again would be far too expensive.

Just as Fu Xia was debating whether to refuse this filming opportunity in favor of that other variety show where she’d gotten drenched, she suddenly felt a tingling sensation at her ankle as something soft brushed against it, startling her.

Looking down, she saw a chubby cat rubbing against her ankle as if using her leg as a scratching post, pressing insistently against her.

Fu Xia bent down to pick up the plump cat, meeting its gaze at eye level.

“Guazi?”

She asked uncertainly, “Are you Guazi?”

In her memory, she’d only ever seen one—no, two—orange cats this fat. One was the Guazi she’d seen at her company, the other was Cheng Wanyu’s Guazi. She couldn’t tell which this fluffy ball belonged to.

Soon, the neighboring apartment door clicked open, revealing a woman in jeans and a white hoodie standing in the doorway, locking eyes with Fu Xia.

Fu Xia blinked in surprise. “Cheng Wanyu?”

Leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, Cheng Wanyu’s lips curled slightly. “Long time no see, Teacher Xia.”

Delighted, Fu Xia stepped out in her house slippers, still holding Guazi as she looked at Cheng Wanyu with happy astonishment. “You moved in across from me? What a coincidence!”

“Yes, quite the coincidence.” Cheng Wanyu’s dark eyes sparkled with quiet amusement as she reached out to stroke Guazi’s round little head, complaining lightly, “This little troublemaker keeps running off in the new place. Lucky you caught her—I wouldn’t have known she’d gotten out otherwise.”

Thrilled to see a familiar face—meaning she’d have company from now on—Fu Xia’s tone became noticeably brighter. “Did you just move in today?”

Cheng Wanyu nodded, then stepped aside to reveal the disarray of unpacked luggage and furniture inside. “The movers dropped everything off and left for their next job. The cleaning service won’t come until this afternoon.”

Seeing the mess, Fu Xia couldn’t help asking, “What about lunch then?”

“Haven’t eaten yet,” Cheng Wanyu admitted.

“Perfect!” Fu Xia exclaimed cheerfully, still cradling Guazi. “I just made food—come eat with me! There’s way too much for one person anyway.”

Cheng Wanyu’s gaze deepened, her smile becoming almost uncontainable as she agreed readily, “Sounds great.”

But when they entered Fu Xia’s apartment and Cheng Wanyu saw the table covered with takeout containers, her smile gradually faded.

Completely oblivious, Fu Xia set Guazi down and retrieved bowls and chopsticks from the refrigerator, saying cheerfully, “Just delivered—still warm! Come eat!”

Through the still-open fridge door, Cheng Wanyu’s eyes took in the chaotic contents: cookware, fresh produce, skincare products, and an alarming assortment of instant noodles, spicy hotpot meals, ready-to-eat microwavable dishes, and every conceivable type of processed food. Her expression turned icy.

Fu Xia set the table and said to Cheng Wanyu, “Sister Zhou Wen came by earlier, so I ordered a bit more. Who knew she wouldn’t stay for dinner? Luckily, you’re here, otherwise all this food would’ve gone to waste. Throwing away food every day isn’t just a waste of money—it’s wasting food too. With the economy being so tough these days and money so hard to earn, it’s such a shame to throw away food bit by bit. If we can eat it, we should, don’t you think?”

Looking up and seeing Cheng Wanyu’s indifferent expression, Fu Xia couldn’t help but ask, “What’s wrong? Don’t you like this food?”

She pointed to a plate of fish-flavored shredded pork and said, “This restaurant’s fish-flavored pork is super popular. I’ve had it several times. Their clay pot chicken is great too, though I didn’t order it today. We can have that when you come over tonight.”

Fu Xia enthusiastically introduced each takeout dish she’d ordered, speaking with great confidence. After she finished, Cheng Wanyu finally said, “Have you been eating takeout all this time?”

“Yeah,” Fu Xia replied as she sat down. “There are so many takeout options around here. I’ve been ordering for a month, three meals a day, and still haven’t tried them all. I discover new little restaurants every day—it’s really great. I heard there are lots of food courts nearby. If I try them all, I could even make a favorite and avoid list.”

Cheng Wanyu sighed helplessly at the greasy dishes. “Don’t eat these—they’re too oily and bad for your stomach.”

Fu Xia nibbled on her chopsticks, puzzled. “They’re fine. I don’t see anything wrong with them.”

Cheng Wanyu wouldn’t let her eat. Fortunately, Fu Xia hadn’t thrown away the takeout containers yet. As Cheng Wanyu began covering them, she said, “Most takeout is pre-made with lots of additives and heavy seasoning—too salty and oily, not healthy at all. I saw some greens in your kitchen earlier. Do you have noodles? I’ll make you some.”

Watching her favorite dishes being packed away one by one, Fu Xia quickly pressed a hand on the fish-flavored pork. “At least leave me one?”

Cheng Wanyu paused, then withdrew her hand. “I’ll make you noodles. No sneaking bites, understand?”

Fu Xia nodded and watched as Cheng Wanyu entered the kitchen. She then scooped up Guazi, who was grooming herself, and followed. Cheng Wanyu was sorting vegetables when she noticed Fu Xia lurking and asked without turning around, “Why are you here?”

“Wanted to watch you cook,” Fu Xia said, hugging Guazi. “I’ve never seen you make food before. Are you sure you can do this? Maybe we should just order takeout. It’s such a waste to throw it away.”

“We’re not throwing it out. The movers will be delivering more furniture soon, right around lunchtime. They can have the untouched dishes. I’ll cook some rice too so the workers can have lunch before leaving.” Cheng Wanyu continued working as she spoke.

Fu Xia watched as Cheng Wanyu discarded the wilted outer leaves, keeping only the fresh green hearts. She deftly chopped off the roots, then rummaged through the fridge for two relatively fresh scallions, swiftly slicing them into segments.

Observing Cheng Wanyu’s skilled movements—greasing the pan, stir-frying, adding water, and cooking the noodles—everything was methodical, and the counter remained spotless. After the noodles were done, she even cracked two poached eggs into the pot. Glancing at Fu Xia, she gestured for her to come help serve.

When Fu Xia came out holding that bowl of spring onion noodles, she was still a bit dazed. Watching Cheng Wanyu deftly tie up her hair before lowering her head to sip some broth with a spoon, it finally dawned on her that this meal was genuinely prepared by Cheng Wanyu.

“You can actually cook?” Fu Xia exclaimed in surprise, cradling the bowl. “You’ve really amazed me.”

“A simple bowl of noodles amazes you?” Cheng Wanyu chuckled helplessly. “When I ran away from home before, I had to fend for myself. I can cook all kinds of home-style dishes—cheaper than your takeout, and cleaner too.”

Fu Xia picked up some noodles and blew on them, sighing. “I know all that in theory, but I genuinely can’t cook. Takeout is just more convenient.”

After taking her first bite, Fu Xia’s eyes lit up with astonishment, immediately praising Cheng Wanyu’s culinary skills.

Seeing how much Fu Xia was enjoying the meal, Cheng Wanyu couldn’t help but say, “From now on, skip the takeout. If I’m home, just come over for meals.”