Me And My Four Dancers - Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Testing

Yan Shuo felt that the possibility of Chen Ze having a crush on him was a bit unreal.

But no matter how unrealistic something is, you can’t dwell on it too much. The more you dwell on it, the more you doubt it’s true.

But…

It’s not really that unreal.

Yan Shuo had always been handsome, strong-willed, and showy. Ever since kindergarten, he’d been the most eye-catching kid in his class. Over the years, he’d been pursued countless times, and had countless crushes on him.

Of course, his suitors were mostly girls, but he’d had boys too. He thought that was normal; a truly handsome man should be attractive to both men and women. So it wasn’t impossible for Shen Ze to like him; it just meant that Shen Ze’s taste was normal.

Yan Shuo sorted out the logic from an “objective” perspective, then felt awkward after realizing it belatedly.

He had no experience in dating, but he had a lot of experience rejecting people. Rejecting Shen Ze was easy, but what happened next? They were colleagues, and they’d be seeing each other constantly. How could they possibly get along?

Forget about the future. They’d have to sleep in the same room tonight.

Yan Shuo leaned back in the car seat, lost in thought. Maybe it was fake. He was overthinking. Besides, even if it was true, Chen Ze wouldn’t necessarily say anything. He clearly wasn’t the type to passionately pursue someone.

So, what did Chen Ze like about him? When did it start, and how long had it been going on?

Yan Shuo tried to recall, but couldn’t recall any unusual interactions with him. Perhaps his memory was flawed, or he simply hadn’t paid attention at the time.

He turned to look at Chen Ze.

It had to be said that this person was definitely the most beautiful of all the admirers he’d ever had. She simply outshone everyone else, and her aura was truly extraordinary. To borrow the words of one of Ze Ze’s fans, it was like “snow on the horizon, moon on the sea.” One could only admire from afar, never truly approach.

Yan Shuo tutted inwardly, but before he could look away, Chen Ze suddenly spoke, “Can you please stop staring at me?”

Yan Shuo choked. “How do you know I’m staring at you if you’re not staring at me?”

Chen Ze: “…”

Fvck, what kind of elementary school dialogue is this?

His idiotic teammates are causing him so much trouble. Yan Shuo felt that if this continued, he would sooner or later go from being a cool, domineering lone wolf to a husky.

Yan Shuo coughed lightly and changed the subject, saying, “Have you read the script for the first episode? Today we’ll record three main parts: eating, performing, and drawing lots to divide us into groups and rooms. The real task will be tomorrow.”

It sounds easy, like play, but in reality, every step is carefully planned by the production team. Even the seemingly casual chat during dinner has its own lines, designed to fully showcase the guests’ personalities and cuteness. Of course, there’s a certain amount of performance involved—in other words, character creation.

After all, this is a variety show. What matters most is not authenticity, but excitement.

So, each guest must have a distinct character positioning to leave a lasting impression, allowing the audience to choose their favorite type. The production team will then make adjustments based on post-air feedback.

Yan Shuo’s characterization is similar to his appearance in the Plastic Heavenly Group: gentle, mature, and good-natured. He can’t lose his reputation. Given that this persona has essentially collapsed in the public’s eyes, continuing to play up to it would easily irritate viewers and lead them to believe he’s hypocritical.

So Li Linjia discussed with the director how to “whitewash” him on the show. How? The answer is simple: the personality displayed by the guests on reality shows is more authentic when it’s layered. One common tactic is to emphasize first and then criticize. For example, a guest might reveal flaws and be quite unlikable in the first two episodes. In the following episodes, the scripted plot twists his characterization, leading the audience to believe: “He’s not actually a bad person, he’s kind, just lacks emotional intelligence. He’s genuine, much better than some hypocritical people.”

Yan Shuo aims to follow a similar path.

But he’s an idol, so he definitely can’t do anything that’s too outrageous. The production team will take a more gentle approach, letting the audience see his gentleness and maturity, some hints of acting, but guiding them to find it funny rather than hypocritical. They’ll then arrange some content, and through post-production editing and captioning, create a character for Yan Shuo who’s “a quiet and handsome man on the outside, but a snarky, snarky persona,” creating a strong contrast.

This will help mitigate the perceived collapse of his image after his second account was exposed.

In comparison, Chen Ze’s role is much simpler. The production team has cast him as the perfect male god, a “women’s friend” with explosive boyfriend power. He’s a bit quiet and aloof, but very gentlemanly with the female guests. He’s handsome and sophisticated, knows how to handle things with discretion, has high emotional intelligence, and respects others—a model of a new generation of good men.

When Yan Shuo saw this characterization, his mind went blank.

Honestly, where is Chen Ze’s discretion? Where is his high emotional intelligence? This is so fake! He’s clearly a withdrawn child, his eyes perched on the top of his head, and once he puts on his headphones, he doesn’t bother to talk to ordinary people. Luckily, he’s a role model man.

Well, it’s all work, so let’s not laugh at each other.

To ease the tense atmosphere in the car, Yan Shuo forced the boring topic to continue, chatting a little more about the show. After all, the one who’s secretly in love should be nervous, so why is he so nervous?

Thinking of this, Yan Shuo felt a little uncertain again. Suspecting someone of having a crush on him was actually quite presumptuous. It was better to get to the bottom of it, otherwise, a misunderstanding would be so embarrassing.

He should give it a try.

“Brother Ze,” Yan Shuo controlled his tone and said tactfully, “I saw the Weibo post you accidentally liked. Fans online are speculating. They say you searched it yourself and are excitedly discussing whether anyone in our group is gay.”

Yan Shuo smiled softly, feigning helplessness, blinking and sighing at Shen Ze, “Netizens have really wild imaginations. They believe everything they hear…”

As he spoke, he carefully observed Shen Ze’s expression, noticing every subtle awkwardness.

Sure enough, when his teammates discussed this topic before, Shen Ze would pretend not to hear, completely unconcerned. When someone addressed him by name, he would just say “hmm” to indicate he’d heard.

Now, Shen Ze turned and stared at Yan Shuo intently, his eyes hinting at a subtle… inquiry?

“…”

Did he realize I’d discovered his secret?

Yan Shuo’s throat suddenly felt dry, and he felt inexplicably nervous. It was all because they were so close. It was hard to hide their expressions at such close quarters, and Shen Ze’s perfume was overwhelming. When someone is completely enveloped by another’s scent, it’s easy to feel uncomfortable—a sense of their territory being invaded.

Yan Shuo unconsciously raised his hand and loosened his tie.

Today he was wearing a casual, understated blazer, perfectly suited to a young, handsome man.

Shen Ze’s inquiry remained, his gaze, as if certain of something, passed over his face, then lowered to rest on his fingers as he untied his tie.

Yan Shuo froze, his knuckles still pressed against his collarbone, not moving for a long time. Thankfully, Shen Ze looked away immediately, but his abrupt turn was so swift that it felt strangely deliberate, as if he were deliberately drawing a line, deliberately avoiding suspicion.

However, not looking away would have been better. The more he looked away, the more he felt, the more he felt the air of ambiguity, a sense of wanting to speak but not being able to.

Chen Ze, perhaps realizing it, said remedially, “It’s not summer, are you hot? Dress properly.”

Chen Ze’s tone was cold and hard.

Yan Shuo: “…”

Why wouldn’t I dress properly? I just loosened my tie. Even my dad isn’t that strict!

Yan Shuo, feeling mixed emotions, dug out his headphones for the first time and plugged them in to listen.

His music app was set to auto-resume, and as soon as he turned it on, they were playing their first hit song of the year, “Do You Know I Love You?” This song was also written by Chen Ze. The climax consists of five verses, repeating the line “Do you know I love you?” five times, one verse for each of the five members. It was a heart-wrenching, high-pitched cry.

Do you know I love you?

Do you know I love you?

Do you know I love you?

Do you know I love you?

Do you know I love you?

Do you know I love you?

Do you know I love you?

“…”

Yan Shuo’s ears hurt from hearing this. He couldn’t help but glance at Chen Ze. He thought, “I get it! You’re such a double-faced, reserved person. No wonder you can write a song like this.”