Thank You for the Invitation, I Successfully Held Hands with the Best Actress - Chapter 5

As evening fell, all the guests arrived at the villa one after another.

In the living room, eight guests took their seats at a square table adorned with candlelight and lace tablecloths, carefully sizing each other up while harboring different thoughts.

At the chime of five o’clock, the large display screen opposite the table lit up, revealing a woman with delicate features and a calm demeanor.

“Welcome, everyone, to the dating reality show First Heartbeat. I’m your host, Ling Fei. First, on behalf of the production team, I’d like to express my deepest gratitude for your participation. The purpose of this show is to address the romantic challenges faced by young people today, encouraging everyone to take time from their busy lives to experience a sweet romance.”

Ling Fei as the host? Something feels off about this.

She just divorced writer Xu last month. Is it really appropriate for a dating show to have her as the host?

LOL, so why did she agree to host this? To watch others fall in love while mourning her own failed marriage?

As they say, plans can’t keep up with changes. The contract was signed long ago—Ling Fei probably never expected such an awkward situation when she agreed to join First Heartbeat.

She and writer Xu were the industry’s golden couple, having been together for eight years. She should still have some insights to share about love.

But if an eight-year relationship ended in divorce, does that mean none of the couples on this show will make it?

Don’t jinx it! If all the couples end up breaking up, what’s the point of shipping them?

“Next, I’ll explain the basic rules and guidelines for the show. Please listen carefully.”

“Currently, we’re in the initial exploration phase, which will last one week. Each guest should seize the opportunity to get to know the person they’re interested in. The show will release scheduled tasks and activities, so please keep the program-provided phones with you at all times to check for updates.”

“The mailbox in the villa will be open from 8 to 9 PM every night. Please be mindful of the time and send your letters promptly. At 9 AM the next morning, guests can unlock and check their mailboxes to see if they’ve received any letters.”

“If you’re unable to attend a scheduled date due to unavoidable circumstances, please inform your partner in advance to avoid inconveniencing others.”

“The show will be broadcast live, but no cameras are installed in private rooms. The production team will do its utmost to protect everyone’s privacy.”

“With that said, if you have any questions, feel free to ask now.”

After Ling Fei finished listing the rules—which weren’t much different from other dating shows—a handsome man with slicked-back hair was the first to speak up.

“What’s the significance of the identity cards? Do they come with any additional privileges?”

His name was Xu Yi, a Ph.D. in STEM and currently a professor of mathematics at a university. Naturally, his tone was serious, as if discussing an academic problem.

This was something everyone wanted to know.

The identity cards determined each guest’s assigned room, but apart from slight differences in wall art and interior design, the living conditions were largely the same for everyone.

So there was no rule that a higher-status identity card meant better accommodations.

Then this identity card must have some other purpose.

Ling Fei explained, “The different identity cards grant the guests varying rights and opportunities when choosing their romantic interests. The specific functions of each drawn card will be sent to everyone’s phones before tomorrow’s dating tasks.”

Li Yifan chuckled, “The production team’s considerations are quite profound. Even in love, not everyone is equal—there are unfair situations. If you draw a bad card, you can only say it’s a matter of fate.”

The card he drew was “Earl,” which seemed to hold the most authority aside from “Prince” and “Princess.” His words clearly carried an underlying meaning.

Ning Yu shrugged indifferently, “Exactly, love isn’t fair. What truly matters is genuine feelings. The real tragedy is when someone gets a good card and the opportunity but still fails to seize it! At that point, they can’t even use bad luck as an excuse—how pitiful, utterly pitiful.”

Hahahaha, is Ning Yu always this savage?

“Genuine feelings”? Coming from her mouth, I find that hard to believe!

I’ve noticed she has different attitudes for different types of people—alpha? Brutal verbal attacks. Omega? Sweet nothings.

Just standard behavior for a scummy alpha (eye roll).

Ning Yu: Every alpha in my line of sight is my enemy!

Truly living up to the self-awareness of a scummy alpha player. Taking notes, taking notes—”Guide to Identifying Scumbags.”

At the same time, a system notification echoed in Ning Yu’s mind.

Ding—Host’s performance is outstanding. Original scummy alpha popularity points have been successfully accumulated. The points store is now open. Please purchase props carefully—all sales are final.

Ning Yu: ???

What exactly did I do? Why are my points increasing?

Utterly baffled, Ning Yu replayed everything she’d done since arriving and voiced her soul-crushing confusion—she couldn’t recall doing anything misleading.

But she’s not wrong. In love, feelings are what matter most. Without them, you can’t force someone to be with you.

Why make a dating show so complicated? It’s not like we’re playing Werewolf.

Probably to simulate real-life dating scenarios and unexpected situations. Honestly, I think it’s pretty interesting.

After briefly explaining the show’s rules, the next segment involved collaborating to prepare dinner.

The cooking segment, full of domestic vibes, was also a critical moment for eagle-eyed viewers to spot “chemistry.”

Though the kitchen was spacious, fitting eight people still made it slightly crowded. Ming Jue suggested splitting into two groups—one to cook and the other to clean and set the table.

As for the division, the production team had likely anticipated grouping issues and prepared a draw box in advance, with red and white slips—same colors meant the same team.

Ming Jue glanced at her red slip, then at Mu Qiu Yue and Ning Yu’s white slips, silently fuming.

It’s just a random draw—bad luck means nothing. What matters is feelings, feelings.

She shot Ning Yu a sharp glare, as if warning: Don’t even think about pulling any tricks.

Ning Yu flicked her hair, her lips curving into a perfect 45-degree smile as her alluring peach-blossom eyes blinked, radiating charm like a peacock spreading its tail. “Well, to circle back—while luck isn’t everything, you can’t do without it either.”

“Otherwise, there wouldn’t even be a chance to meet and spend time together. How could feelings develop then?”

Ming Jue: “…”

Right, right, you’re absolutely correct.

Wow, you’ve monopolized all the logic here.

With that sharp tongue, why not become a professional troll in the gaming scene? You’d probably earn faster than making terrible dramas.

Unaware that netizens had just suggested a new lucrative career path for her, Ning Yu watched Ming Jue and Wen Mianmian chatting cheerfully while holding brooms, her smile inscrutable.

System: “You just saved up those points, and now you’ve blown them all. What kind of lousy cheat item costs so much? Instead of using them to maintain your scumbag Alpha persona, you waste them here—what’s the point?”

For what?

Ugh, wasn’t it to protect the perfect love story of the main couple?

Ning Yu silently applauded her own cleverness. Whether she intervened or not, the two would end up together, but with fewer twists and hardships, she wouldn’t have to endure the frustrating, melodramatic love triangle that made her want to scream.

In the original novel, Mu Qiuyan never developed feelings for Ming Jue by the end of the dating show. Instead, Ming Jue gradually woke up from her bitter one-sided crush through her growing interactions with Wen Mianmian.

To Ming Jue, Mu Qiuyan was a white moonlight—the idealized first love, carrying nostalgia for youth and layered with rose-tinted filters.

Their conversations revolved almost entirely around memories: their first meeting on a cherry blossom-lined street, which professor had the baldest head and thickest accent in lectures, or the unchanging braised chicken rice at the second-floor cafeteria…

Everything circled back to reminiscence.

Was that love?

Perhaps it once was, intense enough that Mu Qiuyan became the brightest hue of Ming Jue’s college years—a symbol of nostalgia, inseparable from memories of university.

But it was just that—nostalgia.

As a devoted reader of the novel, Ning Yu believed Ming Jue’s youthful infatuation had long faded with time.

After so many years, how rare it was to meet someone who could dazzle you for a lifetime.

Ming Jue’s standards were too high, her pride too unyielding to settle, so she clung stubbornly to Mu Qiuyan.

Of course, it was also… a form of compensation.

Ning Yu’s gaze drifted to Mu Qiuyan, who was heating oil nearby.

Of the three, the unluckiest was undoubtedly Mu Qiuyan, dragged into the emotional turmoil as a mere tool in the protagonists’ angsty drama—often used as a shield or collateral damage.

If she could help Ming Jue break free from her one-sided obsession sooner, it would spare Mu Qiuyan a lot of unnecessary noise.

“Miss Ning has been staring at me. Surely you’re not thinking about tonight’s dinner?” Mu Qiuyan didn’t look up as she reached for the marinated chicken pieces nearby.

Ning Yu handed them over without thinking and blurted, “Well, the sight of you is more appetizing than any di—cough…”

What kind of outrageous thing had she just said? Had she overdone the scumbag Alpha lines these past few days??

Ning Yu’s face flushed red as she hastily changed her words, “I was just thinking the heat might be too high—the oil might splatter soon.”

Mu Qiu raised an eyebrow, her scrutinizing gaze narrowing. “Miss Ning seems nervous about something. Could it be you’ve recalled some… accidentally forgotten memories?”

Ning Yu internally cursed: Sh1t, how does she know?

The kitchen camera perfectly captured the two standing by the range hood, their conversation recorded crystal clear.

Holy sh1t, what am I hearing?!

This isn’t the kindergarten bus—let me off!

What kind of spell has Ning Yu cast on Best Actress Mu? How is she tolerating this?

Scumbag alphas operate on another level—even their conversations feel bizarre.

Under Mu Qiu’s piercing stare, Ning Yu averted her eyes just as the system notification chimed again.

System: “Given the satisfactory point accumulation, a limited-time reward is now issued. Initiate intimate physical contact with the nearest omega within one minute. Time is ticking.”

What kind of absurd mission was this? The nearest omega… was none other than Mu Qiu!