I Turned a Competitive Variety Show into a Dating Show - Chapter 31

Shi Xu was dragged back by her sister for a thorough interrogation. By the time she returned, the rehearsal had already begun. The other team members were fully made up and had adjusted their positions multiple times. Only Shi Xu, with her bare face and dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, took the stage.

Jian Zhi glanced back at her, their eyes briefly meeting in the air. Shi Xu immediately turned away, making her avoidance conspicuously obvious.

Jian Zhi turned back, biting her lip and lowering her gaze. Her thick lashes concealed the self-mockery in her eyes as she took a deep breath and refocused on her work.

No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, her mood was inevitably affected. Throughout the rehearsal, she maintained a cold expression. Afterward, the stage director tactfully advised her to manage her facial expressions better during the actual performance.

Jian Zhi, a perfectionist who often caused trouble for others, apologized to the director. She then went to the restroom, stood before the mirror, and forced herself to smile over a dozen times. As she continued to smile, she began to feel like a madwoman, her chest tightening until she could barely breathe.

Hearing a sound at the door, she quickly pretended to wash her face. Shi Xu and Shu Yueyao entered. Since they had teamed up, the two had grown closer, perhaps because Shu Yueyao hadn’t avoided Shi Xu like the others, but instead actively sought to build a connection with her. Shi Xu must have been touched by this.

Shi Xu paused when she saw Jian Zhi. “What’s wrong?” Shu Yueyao asked.

“Nothing,” Shi Xu replied, resuming her steps. Her gaze shifted from Jian Zhi as if she were a stranger she’d accidentally encountered.

Yet just a dozen hours earlier, they had been intimately entwined, their bodies inseparable. How could they have become so distant in such a short time?

Jian Zhi raised her right hand, glancing at the bite mark on her ring finger. She tilted her head back, suppressing the stinging in her eyes, and caught their reflections in the mirror—an indescribable harmony and beauty.

Shu Yueyao stood half a head shorter than Shi Xu, her figure both voluptuous and slender. Dressed in a camisole and short skirt, with twin ponytails to match the song’s theme, she exuded sweetness. Shi Xu, though casually dressed, possessed an extraordinary face and a cool, aloof demeanor that perfectly complemented Shu Yueyao’s delicate charm.

They were a perfect match, in every sense of the word.

Water streamed down Jian Zhi’s face, dripping from her sharp chin like tears. Refusing to wallow in self-pity, she hurried out of the room.

Even if it weren’t Shu Yueyao, there would always be someone more beautiful and radiant standing beside Shi Xu. Shi Xu needed a cheerful, sunny partner who could brighten her days, not someone like Jian Zhi—gloomy, brooding, and barely able to care for herself.

Jian Zhi, stop deluding yourself. This distance is what you deserve. Isn’t this what you wanted? You got your wish, you should be happy.

But Jian Zhi felt no joy, only a gnawing emptiness in her heart, like a window with a hole letting in a cold, numb wind, leaving her hollow and devoid of everything.

To avoid breaking her resolve, Shi Xu stayed out until 3 a.m. before returning home. As expected, Jian Zhi was already asleep.

She tiptoed inside, even keeping the shower water at a low volume. After bathing, she passed Jian Zhi’s bed and paused, drawn by the soft whimpering in her sleep.

The words were mumbled and indistinct, but the tearful tone tugged at Shi Xu’s heart. She moved closer to check on Jian Zhi, who lay curled on her side, tear streaks glistening on her face.

Seeing this grown woman huddled into such a small ball, her brow furrowed in sleep as she wept, Shi Xu’s heart clenched painfully. She didn’t know what else she could do to make Jian Zhi happy.

She had followed all of Jian Zhi’s instructions, yet Jian Zhi remained utterly miserable, unable to even cry freely except in her dreams, where she could finally release her pent-up emotions.

Sister, what should I do…?

Shi Xu murmured as she wiped away Jian Zhi’s tears. Her hand was suddenly gripped tightly, and she thought Jian Zhi had woken up, her breath catching in her throat. But upon closer inspection, she realized Jian Zhi was still asleep, pressing Shi Xu’s hand against her cheek, the deep furrows in her brow softening slightly.

Shi Xu remained crouched there for most of the night, only climbing into bed once Jian Zhi’s emotions had stabilized. She barely slept before being called for filming. During makeup, she kept nodding off like a pecking chick, prompting the makeup artist to ask if she hadn’t slept well.

Shi Xu yawned, tears squeezing from the corners of her eyes. “It’s like I didn’t sleep at all. Good thing I’m young and resilient, or these bags under my eyes would be down to here.” She gestured dramatically, her exaggerated movements eliciting laughter from everyone in the makeup room, which suddenly buzzed with energy. Only Jian Zhi sat quietly in a corner, her mood subdued, her expression blank, her entire demeanor muted.

Shi Xu glanced at her in the mirror, her smile fading by a third. She would have to interact with Jian Zhi onstage later, and she wasn’t sure if she could pull it off, or if Jian Zhi would resent her. But Shi Xu had always been conscientious about her work and doubted Jian Zhi would reject her on stage.

Shi Xu struggled to find the right balance, wanting to care for Jian Zhi but afraid of overstepping. She kept reminding herself not to cross the line, to treat Jian Zhi as she had said—like an ordinary colleague she’d only recently met.

…but colleagues.

Shi Xu’s mood sank. She sighed softly, forced a smile, and said she was fine, then closed her eyes again. If I don’t do this…

The previous day, she was the third to perform in her group. Before going on stage, there was time for two more rehearsals. Every member practiced diligently, but Shi Xu’s stiffness was particularly noticeable.

“What’s wrong with you? You’re worse than you were during practice the other day! Relax a little! Don’t drag Jian Zhi down with you.”

The speaker was an older senior, known for her bluntness. After speaking, she patted Shi Xu’s back, grabbed her arm, and shook it, repeatedly saying, “Relax.”

Shi Xu relaxed, but not completely. After another run-through,

“To win, you need to clear your mind of distractions. Forget all those messy thoughts swirling in your head. This isn’t just a competition for the two of us; it affects the fate of our teammates. I need you to be at your best.”

One member of the team was ranked near the bottom. If they lost this time, she risked elimination. This was why Jian Zhi had been pushing so hard earlier—as captain, she didn’t want any of her teammates to be cut.

Shi Xu looked into Jian Zhi’s clear, peach-blossom eyes, feeling a pang of guilt. She had been overthinking everything, trapped by her own tangled thoughts, which had prevented her from fully cooperating with Jian Zhi. Meanwhile, Jian Zhi had long since moved past their previous conflict and seamlessly adapted to her role as a “colleague.”

Feeling both guilty and foolish, Shi Xu curled her lips into a self-deprecating smile and said to Jian Zhi, “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been so preoccupied. I’ll be more focused from now on.”

She then turned to the rest of the team, saying sincerely, “I’m sorry, everyone. Let’s rehearse one more time.”

This rehearsal went flawlessly. The dance moves were perfectly synchronized, Shi Xu’s performance was emotionally charged and radiated extraordinary charisma, and everyone wore confident smiles. Jian Zhi’s lips twitched into a slight smile, but her mind was elsewhere.

Shi Xu’s mocking smile kept flashing before her eyes. Though she didn’t know who Shi Xu was mocking, Jian Zhi felt the distance between them growing wider.

Shi Xu was born for the stage. Under the spotlight, her fiercely beautiful looks and powerful vocals shone through. Every expression captivated the audience, and her stage presence was extraordinary. Even during this controversial period, her votes remained second only to Jian Zhi’s.

Everyone took turns giving their speeches. After Shi Xu finished, she handed the microphone to Jian Zhi, who hesitated for a few seconds before accepting it. Jian Zhi’s speech was remarkably brief. This clip was posted online, sparking fierce debate among netizens.

Fans seized upon this as irrefutable evidence of Jian Zhi’s dislike for Shi Xu, flooding Shi Xu’s Weibo account with demands to stay away from their “Sister.” Shi Xu’s fans retaliated fiercely, and the back-and-forth quickly escalated, landing the feud on the trending topics list.

Shi Xu had just learned about the incident from the gossipy Xue Qing when her Second Sister called.

“Can’t you just lie low for once? Please, for the love of all that’s holy,” Shi Mu pleaded, her voice tinged with exasperation.

“As if I can control what people say!” Shi Xu retorted. “You know how netizens are these days—they blow every little thing out of proportion. If they’re determined to make something out of nothing, what can I do?”

“Learn to mitigate risks, you idiot! Either stay far away from her, or get right up in her face. This awkward middle ground is just asking for trouble. Where’s your brain?”

“Probably flew out the window,” Shi Xu quipped. “I was too busy basking in the audience’s cheers to notice any of this.”

Shi Mu was so angry she was speechless for a moment. After a long silence, she finally said, “Next time this happens, react faster! Just grab her and kiss her! Let’s see what the fans have to say then.”

“Huh? You’re teaching me these underhanded tactics now?” Shi Xu was equally speechless.

If she dared to do that, Jian Zhi’s fans would probably hunt her down in real life. It was better to let them misunderstand.

“What’s so underhanded about it? Aren’t you two… you know…?”

“What ‘you know’?”

Shi Mu scoffed. “Don’t play coy with me. You went to a hotel together. You didn’t just stay up all night chatting under the covers, did you?”

Shi Xu was about to reply when she heard a faint noise behind her. She turned to see Jian Zhi standing there, looking slightly awkward. She must have overheard Shi Mu’s earlier remark.

Shi Xu quickly hung up the phone, stood up, and stammered for a long time, unable to utter a single coherent word.

Jian Zhi glanced at her expressionlessly and walked past her into the bathroom. Shi Xu immediately deflated, collapsing onto the bed in a starfish pose and staring blankly at the ceiling.

Sigh, she hates me again.

Only one episode had aired, yet countless fan-made videos shipping Jian Zhi with various partners had already flooded the internet. Jian Zhi’s popularity and public image were both stellar, and every fandom was vying to pair her with their favorite characters. Add a slow-motion filter and some romantic music, and the pairings actually seemed quite plausible.

In stark contrast, Shi Xu was treated like a hot potato. No one wanted to be associated with her. Under videos featuring her and Jian Zhi, a timid comment might appear: “I think they actually have some chemistry.” But the overwhelming response would be: “Get some better taste! Stop shipping her with every cult leader!”

Amidst the sea of judgmental videos, a fan-made video shipping Shi Xu with Shu Yueyao stood out like a sore thumb. Curious, Shi Xu clicked on it and discovered that it portrayed Shu Yueyao as her savior, never giving up on her during the selection process.

In short, netizens’ shipping criteria were bizarre and unpredictable. Shi Xu neither understood nor respected them. She closed the video, silently clicked the “X” button, and instructed the system to reduce recommendations for similar content.

If they’d shown the scene where Jian Zhi used her privilege to snatch me away, Shi Xu mused, that would have been really interesting. But for some reason, it was completely cut out. Even our shared screen time is minimal.

Clutching her phone, Shi Xu replayed the scene in her mind, feeling a pang of regret that such a compelling moment had been left on the cutting room floor.

Not long after, Xue Qing stormed in, brandishing her phone and demanding, “Is this a publicity stunt or are you two actually together?”

Shi Xu looked utterly bewildered. Xue Qing pressed on, “I won’t let you hurt my Senior Sister!”

Her face was flushed with anger, as if she were about to charge into a death match with Shi Xu. Shi Xu, completely baffled, had no idea why Xue Qing was acting this way.

“Rushing in here with these nonsensical accusations—did you forget to take your meds today?” Shi Xu asked, sitting cross-legged on the bed, her expression unreadable.

Xue Qing’s brow furrowed as she tossed the phone at Shi Xu. “See for yourself. The internet’s going wild.”

Shi Xu picked up the phone and saw that she had somehow liked a fan-made video shipping her with Shu Yueyao. Shortly after her “like,” Shu Yueyao retweeted the video with three “hug” emojis, their meaning left to interpretation.

Both women were using their official accounts, and with some overzealous fans fueling the speculation, the narrative quickly shifted. Many interpreted it as a subtle confirmation of their relationship, while a few dismissed it as a publicity stunt—after all, a like, a retweet, and three emojis hardly constituted proof. A small, more rational faction remained grounded, sticking to shipping the pair only within the context of the show.

After scrolling through a series of trending Weibo posts, Shi Xu had completely sobered up. She silently picked up her phone, unliked the post, and swiftly logged out of her main account.

“My finger slipped,” she said, ostensibly explaining to Xue Qing but actually speaking to Jian Zhi, who was standing nearby. “I have no idea when I even liked it.”

Jian Zhi shifted imperceptibly after hearing this, turning her back to Shi Xu. It was impossible to tell whether she believed the explanation.

“But what are the odds you’d accidentally like that video?” Xue Qing asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“The algorithm recommended it on my homepage, so I clicked to watch. Who could have predicted this would happen?” Shi Xu felt worse than anyone at that moment. If she had known this would happen, she wouldn’t have touched her phone at all.

“Hah!” Xue Qing scoffed coldly, slowly approaching Jian Zhi. “Do you think I’ve never used Weibo? The videos recommended on your homepage are based on your interests. This proves you’ve been paying close attention to Shu Yueyao and frequently checking her Weibo.”

Since they didn’t follow each other, the only explanation was that Shi Xu had searched for Shu Yueyao’s name, causing the algorithm to recommend related videos. Wasn’t that even more damning evidence?

Xue Qing sat beside Jian Zhi, wrapping her arm around her in comfort. “It’s okay, Senior Sister. We don’t need a player who plays the field. There are plenty of handsome and devoted people out there. Don’t waste your tears on someone so irresponsible.”

Who’s the player? Shi Xu thought, grinding her teeth as she watched the two women’s intimate display. And stop taking advantage of Jian Zhi!

“It was a genuine slip of the hand,” Shi Xu insisted. “There’s nothing between us. We’re just colleagues.”

“Col~leagues~” Xue Qing repeated sarcastically. “A like and a retweet? It’s hard to believe you two didn’t plan this. Whether it’s for publicity or genuine, it’s still damaging to Senior Sister’s reputation.”

“Qing’er, don’t speak rashly,” Jian Zhi interjected, distancing herself from Shi Xu. “Shi Xu is also my colleague.”

Whether it was real or staged, what could Jian Zhi say given her position? Her relationship with Shi Xu was far less close than her bond with Shu Yueyao—even in terms of seniority, Shu Yueyao ranked higher. What right did she have to make such self-righteous accusations?

Xue Qing froze, her confusion quickly turning to shock. Her eyes darted between the two women before she finally whispered, “You broke up?”

Shi Xu forced a bitter smile, biting her lip to hold back the words. They had never even been together. Jian Zhi didn’t remember their few intimate moments, leaving Shi Xu with nothing but a hopeless unrequited love.

If I’d known it would end like this, I should have just kept my feelings hidden, she thought. Maybe we could have been closer than we are now. Instead, confessing my feelings pushed her miles away, making both of us uncomfortable. I really do just mess things up.

The silence hung heavy between them, the atmosphere thick with awkwardness. Xue Qing’s lips twitched, ready to chatter again, but Shi Xu cut her off first. “Didn’t you say you were going to challenge that scum woman to a duel last night? Did you win?”

Xue Qing’s face crumpled, and she burst into tears. Jian Zhi awkwardly tried to comfort her, while Shi Xu whistled nonchalantly, secretly relishing the moment. She came here to ruin my relationship with Jian Zhi? I won’t let her off so easily.

“Waaah! I’m never dating again! Women are all evil!”

With a single sentence, Xue Qing managed to insult all three of them, including herself. Wiping her tears, she stormed out, not forgetting to snatch a bag of Shi Xu’s snacks on her way.

“You two sort this out yourselves. I’m going back to cry.”

Halfway out the door, she poked her head back in, still sobbing. “If you go out for something good, don’t forget to take me! No eating alone!”

“Ah! Women are all heart-wrenching devils! Waaah…”

The door slammed shut, and without Xue Qing’s incessant chatter, the dormitory fell into an eerie silence. Shi Xu stole a glance at Jian Zhi, finding her still facing away, her slender back radiating an indescribable loneliness.

Shi Xu’s heart clenched. Before she could speak, Jian Zhi spoke first.

“There’s no need to be so cold. Just treat me like you treat Shu Yueyao. We’re colleagues, after all. If you show such blatant favoritism, the audience will find it strange, don’t you think?”

Shi Xu felt even more bitter, unable to respond. Jian Zhi was clearly drawing a line between them, reducing their relationship to mere colleagues—and only for the duration of the show. Once filming wrapped, they’d likely pretend not to know each other.

She had even thought of leveraging their roommate status to get closer, starting as ordinary friends and gradually growing closer. She imagined they could eventually connect privately, go out for meals together, and hang out often. Maybe, over time, Jian Zhi would be moved by her efforts.

The absurdity of her thinking was truly laughable.

Jian Zhi had made her rejection clear, yet she clung to these delusional fantasies.

It was… utterly pathetic.

“I’ve spoken more to you in a single day than I have to Shu Yueyao since we first met. Are you sure you want to be in that kind of relationship with me?”

Jian Zhi’s body trembled slightly. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She didn’t want this. Emotion and reason warred within her. After a long silence, fearing Shi Xu’s impatience and her own impulsive words, she finally spoke.

Shi Xu had always been patient with her, but even the warmest bl00d cools with time. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t disappointed, yet she refused to cling to Jian Zhi as she had before, forcing her into decisions against her will.

To Shi Xu, Jian Zhi was like a fragile gemstone—beautiful, flawless on the surface, but riddled with cracks within. A single touch could shatter her, and even if pieced back together, the fissures would remain.

The more Shi Xu understood Jian Zhi, the more helpless she felt. The only thing she could do was obey her, like a loyal little dog, staying by her side when needed and observing from afar at other times.

Previously, Shi Xu had longed to be with Jian Zhi, to possess her completely. Now, she only wished for Jian Zhi to be happy.

“Sister, I…” I’ll be obedient.

Whatever you want, whether it’s avoiding suspicion or pretending we don’t know each other, I’ll do it. If you really can’t bear to see me, I’ll even withdraw from the competition.

Jian Zhi finally turned to look at her, her expression indifferent, as if listening to something irrelevant. Only she knew the torment she was enduring. At this moment, she was grateful for her acting skills, which allowed her to perfectly conceal her emotions and hide her true thoughts from everyone.

“What do you want to say?” she asked.

Shi Xu looked up at her and said, “Do you want me to withdraw from the competition?”

“What?!” Jian Zhi thought she had misheard, her face filled with shock. No matter how well she controlled her expressions, it was impossible to remain calm at this moment.

Shi Xu lowered her head and said softly, “If you’re uncomfortable, I can withdraw from the competition.”

Living with someone who had confessed their feelings would undoubtedly be awkward. If Jian Zhi requested a dorm change, she’d have to share with someone else. Shi Xu would rather withdraw herself.

She’d rather withdraw than let Jian Zhi room with someone else. What if she encountered someone else who coveted her? Shi Xu was too kind-hearted to resist persistent advances, and worst of all, she blacked out when drunk, remembering nothing of what happened and assuming nothing had occurred.

The mere thought of this scenario made Shi Xu furious. She pounded the bed and declared, “I’d rather withdraw!”

Jian Zhi, startled by the commotion, felt her mood plummet further. Before she could speak, tears welled up in her eyes.

“Do you really have to withdraw? Do you hate me that much?”

Seeing Jian Zhi cry, Shi Xu leaped off the bed in a panic, wishing she could kneel before her. Jian Zhi, overwhelmed with shame and anger, couldn’t bear to look at her and fled to the bathroom before Shi Xu could approach.

How could I, a grown adult, cry like this in front of a child? she thought, mortified. This is so embarrassing.

Shi Xu pressed her ear against the door, holding her breath. No sobs came from inside, the silence making her heart race with anxiety. She gently tapped on the glass door and whispered, “Sister, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry anymore, okay?”

Jian Zhi wiped away her tears and stared at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes rimmed with red. She hung her head weakly, her mind in turmoil.

She didn’t understand why Shi Xu’s words had made her panic, but she didn’t want Shi Xu to withdraw from the competition. She knew that once this connection was severed, they would have no further relationship.

From now on, they would become two parallel lines, never intersecting again. Any future encounters would be marked by polite, distant nods and smiles before they parted ways once more.

In the past, Jian Zhi had always taken relationships lightly, welcoming those who came and letting go of those who left without regret. She believed friendships should be the same: spend time with those who pleased her, and bid farewell to those who didn’t, each seeking more compatible companions. When people approached her for personal gain, only to abandon her after taking what they wanted, she felt no sadness. After all, nothing in this world was permanent, and relationships based on mutual benefit required little genuine investment. Even losing them was nothing to mourn.

But Shi Xu shattered this principle.

To be precise, the composure and self-control she prided herself on vanished after meeting Shi Xu.

Shi Xu had crashed into her tranquil life like a pebble thrown into a still lake. At first, the disturbance was minimal, but the ripples spread relentlessly, gradually eroding her inner stability.

She longed to open her heart and embrace Shi Xu, yet feared becoming hopelessly entangled. Torn between fear and irresistible attraction, she realized it was already too late to withdraw.

Knowing it was wrong, Shi Xu repeatedly entangled herself with her, oscillating between clarity and surrender. Each time she regained her senses, she was consumed by self-reproach and regret, trapped in a cycle of internal conflict and self-doubt.

Shi Xu was even more remarkable than she had imagined—emotionally stable, mentally resilient, with exceptional looks and a privileged background. She deserved someone better. Someone like herself would only drain Shi Xu’s energy, leading to either mutual suffering or a bitter parting. There was no third possibility.

Even knowing this, she still greedily wanted to get closer, to draw warmth from Shi Xu. No one could be more pathetic than her. Jian Zhi gripped the edge of the sink so tightly her knuckles turned white. After a long moment, she took a deep breath, forcing down the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her.

Though making the decision was agonizing, she had to cut ties as soon as possible to protect Shi Xu. Shi Xu was young and didn’t understand the consequences; Jian Zhi couldn’t indulge in this foolishness with her.

Shi Xu peered through the frosted glass door, her vision blurring. She pressed her ear against it, but still couldn’t hear anything. Just as she hesitated whether to barge in, the door clicked open from the inside. Like an octopus clinging to a wall, Shi Xu lost her balance without the door’s support and tumbled forward.

A loud thud echoed, but the expected pain never came. Instead, her face buried itself in something soft and luminous white, a delicate fragrance filling her senses. Her mind went blank, unable to process what was happening.

“Still not getting up?” Jian Zhi’s slightly strained voice came from above. The soft cushion beneath Shi Xu’s face trembled with each breath, drawing her gaze completely.