Chapter Forty-Four: My Damned, Uncontainable Charm

Xi Dong and Liu Ke had never before seen their daughter wear such a bashful, spring-like expression. Was this… the iron tree finally blossoming? No wonder she’d always resisted their attempts to set her up on blind dates—so there was someone in her heart after all.

With this thought, Liu Ke grew serious. “Looks alone aren’t enough. What about his family background? I’ve heard that men in the entertainment industry are all philanderers. His character must be impeccable.”

As she spoke, Liu Ke shot a sidelong glance at Xi Dong.

Xi Dong could only look helpless. If he’d had any desire to fool around, he would have done so long ago. As a prominent director, it would have been all too easy for him to take advantage of actresses. But alas, past forty, he found he no longer had the energy. Besides, his wife kept him on a tight leash, demanding he hand in “homework” regularly—there wasn’t even any surplus in the landlord’s house, so where would he find the wherewithal to stray?

Strangely, Xi Yuanyuan suddenly recalled spending the night at Chen Fang’s place. In an instant, her cheeks grew even redder.

“He’s a total flirt,” she muttered.

A flirt?

Xi Dong was taken aback. Good heavens—had their precious cabbage already been pilfered?

Liu Ke’s mind leapt to similar conclusions, though she felt no displeasure. Men could be flirty, just not lecherous. At worst, after marriage, she’d simply make him turn in his homework every day, leaving him no energy to stray outside.

“So, when will you bring him home to meet us?” Liu Ke’s smile practically glowed with delight.

At last, Xi Yuanyuan sensed the conversation had gone awry and immediately protested, “Mom, he’s just an artist under my management, nothing more.”

“An office romance, then?”

“Mother knows everything.”

“That’s how your father won me over back in the day.” Liu Ke seemed lost in memories, recalling herself in her glorious twenties, and Xi Dong—talented and brilliant at that age. Now, she glanced at the middle-aged man sprawled on the sofa and felt a surge of irritation.

Before marriage, they couldn’t get enough of each other. After marriage, it was always backaches, headaches, and he needed her to prod him just to get anything done.

With this in mind, Liu Ke gave Xi Dong a kick. “Go bring out the fruit from the kitchen!”

Xi Dong looked utterly innocent, but with no alternative, he got up and headed for the kitchen.

Liu Ke turned her attention back to her daughter. “So, you’re saying you two aren’t official yet?”

Xi Yuanyuan was speechless. What did she mean by “not official yet”? She hadn’t even entertained such thoughts. True, she did harbor a tiny spark of something, but it was far from love.

She couldn’t be bothered to explain—attempts to clarify only made things messier.

Just then, the television began airing the sponsor’s advertisement for “Starlight Road.”

“It’s starting!” Xi Yuanyuan’s face lit up with anticipation.

Seeing this, Liu Ke let the questions drop. They’d finish watching the show first.

Xi Dong emerged from the kitchen carrying a platter of freshly washed fruit. After setting it down, he shooed Xi Yuanyuan aside and lay his head on Liu Ke’s lap. “Honey, massage my shoulders, would you?”

“You’re hopeless!” Liu Ke scolded, but her hands naturally began kneading his shoulders.

Xi Yuanyuan rolled her eyes. Such flagrant displays of affection—did they not care about anyone else’s feelings?

-----

At the competition venue, staff members brought out a selection of masks for Chen Fang to choose from. This round required all contestants to perform masked; no one was to remove their mask before finishing their song on stage.

Chen Fang selected a plain white mask—the only one that suited the white robe with blue trim he was wearing. The other colors clashed terribly.

“What’s my performance slot?” he asked. Even now, he had no idea when he would perform.

A staff member smiled politely. “Please be patient. Your performance order will be determined by a draw. I’ll come notify you in the lounge when it’s almost your turn.”

Chen Fang nodded. They were certainly making an air of mystery out of this.

It was a pity that Cheng Jie was absent for this episode. Otherwise, Chen Fang thought things might have been more entertaining—Cheng Jie was always good for a laugh.

He settled back onto the sofa, watching the live feed on the lounge monitor and following the barrage of online comments.

The venue buzzed with excitement. The “Starlight Road” production team had intentionally chosen this vast arena for the third round of auditions, as it could seat tens of thousands—comparable to a major concert.

Ordinarily, only the main show would merit such a grand location, but this time there was a hot topic drawing buzz: Chen Fang. Online attention for tonight’s episode was sky-high. For this reason, “Starlight Road” had switched venues and invited four even more high-profile judges for the scoring.

Chen Fang couldn’t help but laugh at some of the comments scrolling across the screen.

“Where’s Cheng Jie?”

“Damn, did he chicken out and quit?”

“Where’s my guy?”

“Forget your guy for now—go find your hubby!”

“My hubby, where are you?”

“Cheng Jie’s fangirls are so pitiful—always calling him ‘brother’ and ‘husband,’ but in another week or so, your ‘brother’ will be groveling at An Tinghan’s feet.”

“While you play De Fei Sheep, your Mei Yangyang is also De Mei Yang.”

“Classic!”

Chen Fang actually laughed out loud. The humor of this generation of netizens truly was something else. And, to be fair, they weren’t wrong—Cheng Jie was playing the role of De Fei Sheep, and with An Tinghan’s personality, at least he’d still get a chance; with a less patient female celebrity, he’d have no chance at all.

Of course, that was assuming Chen Fang didn’t join the show “Let’s Fall in Love Together.” If he agreed to Tong Qin’s invitation, Cheng Jie wouldn’t even get to be De Fei Sheep. Poor guy! Truly, simps never meet a good end, Chen Fang thought.

In the dense flood of comments, more than half bore An Tinghan’s fan badge—like those in a streaming chatroom, the prefix before the username indicated whose fan you were.

Soon, the tide of comments shifted again—now almost all focused on Chen Fang, and everyone was curiously speculating: Would he perform another original song, or pick something from the Hua Nation song library?

Original guofeng (Chinese-style) songs were not easy to compose. Without genuine cultural literacy, writing one was practically impossible. Moreover, it was common knowledge online that Chen Fang had been a street performer, never even attended university—just barely literate.

“I bet Chen Fang will use a song from the Hua Nation library.”

“Me too.”

“It’s too hard to write an original guofeng song—better to just do a cover.”

“How could someone who never went to college compose an original guofeng song? That’s like asking a farmer with a hoe to type on a keyboard!”

“I’m hoping for something original, though.”

“An Tinghan’s new song ‘As You Wish’ was written by Chen Fang, wasn’t it? I think he’s got some cultural chops.”

“Doesn’t matter to me—original is great, but a cover is fine too.”

“Exactly. I’m just here for the eye candy—Chen Fang’s so handsome.”

“Right? That face alone is enough for me.”

Chen Fang could only sigh—being seen as a “talent” was so difficult! All because of this damned face, people insisted on treating him as an idol. This cursed good looks, forever radiating charm.