Chapter 3

Watching Handsome Guys Is Like Going to a Zoo to See Pandas—Rare Species Need a Ticket 

A Snowpiercer ticket costs 498 each, and the event schedule is displayed on public review platforms like Dianping. There’s a session from 12:30 PM to 10:00 PM every four hours.

The late-night session at 10:30 PM costs 598 per person. Hu Xiu goes to check the schedule every day, hesitating over her bank card balance after paying rent, wondering how many more times she can afford to go on the Snowpiercer.

It’s all just script-based murder mystery games, and other board games cost only 68, with the beginner-level scenes at 128. The most expensive escape rooms cost only 398, so why is Snowpiercer so expensive? It’s so costly that playing a few times could cost as much as a month’s rent.

At 27, after having been beaten down by reality several times, Hu Xiu knows that dreaming of falling in love with a young male actor from a script-based game is pure fantasy.

But that night, she dreams of Qin Shaoyi. He’s crouched at the edge of her bed, scattering rose petals, making her face itch and her heart race uncontrollably. She can’t move, like being in a binding scene from a film.

Qin Shaoyi’s handsome, bright face looks especially seductive when he wears a fierce expression. Hu Xiu lies there thinking, What a waste! Come on, hurry over, hug me, do what you want, come on baby, light my fire...

Just as she’s about to indulge in her fantasy, the sound of someone drilling through the walls upstairs yanks her out of the dream. Furious, she throws her pillow at the ceiling—Dreaming of Qin Shaoyi as the male lead was a spring dream!

Forget it, it’s just a dream. In real life, such a scenario is impossible. She didn’t even get a single flirtatious line in, not to mention that she’s never felt pretty. Looking at the reviews for Snowpiercer on Dianping, she sees pretty girls lined up, all competing for attention. She’s sure she won’t be the one remembered by Qin Shaoyi.

If she insists on deceiving herself, those girls have big eyes and high noses, like characters in a match-3 game. Hu Xiu, from her appearance to her personality, has never been average.

Sitting on her bed, irritated, she can’t help but think about other girls flirting with Qin Shaoyi, and her hand instinctively moves to select another ticket.

It doesn’t matter if she’s alone; she needs to see him again.

The 40-minute bus ride to the starting station at Xujing East, then transferring from Line 2 to Line 1, takes about three hours.

On her second visit to Snowpiercer, Hu Xiu carefully picks a character bag, cautiously extending her hand, silently chanting “Qin Shaoyi’s group” ten times. She opens the bag to reveal... Feng Youjin’s group—the loyal underground party member. From the storyline to the tasks, there’s no connection to Qin Shaoyi whatsoever.

Hu Xiu stands still for a while, feeling wronged. She’s someone who bought the ticket specifically to interact with Qin Shaoyi, so can she file a complaint in this situation?

As expected, she only saw Qin Shaoyi for less than half an hour during the three and a half hours of gameplay, and even then, he was performing a scene.

His acting was excellent, and he was as handsome as always. When he was being beaten up, his ragged, blood-soaked shirt revealed his pale skin and muscles. Just like in her dream, it sent a chill through her body.

The storyline triggered at the end was different from the first one, and Qin Shaoyi was beaten again.

But in the conclusion, he didn’t become the final winner. Feng Youjin became the head of Rongcheng and performed a heartbreaking sibling romance with Lin Qiumei. The two cried bitterly, and Hu Xiu secretly wiped away her own tears. She spent 500 yuan and didn’t even get to speak to Qin Shaoyi. It hurt.

Back home, Hu Xiu grew angrier the more she thought about it and immediately booked the next day’s noon session. She couldn’t keep getting unlucky like this. She thought, If claw machines can be won after ten tries, then with twelve players, three in Qin Shaoyi’s group, there’s a 25% chance, a 1 in 4 possibility. My luck can’t always be this bad.

This time, she drew Ning Zechen’s group, the physicist who discovered the zirconium ore, an important character fiercely contested by players to be taken out of Rongcheng. Once again, there was no connection to Qin Shaoyi.

In the game, Qin Shaoyi was the winner. Hu Xiu watched from a distance as he scattered money and rose petals, slender and fragile, as handsome as ever.

Standing at the gate of Rongcheng to send the players off, the moment the gate closed, Hu Xiu felt as though she had lost her heart again.

After the game, she checked Dianping and saw that only three roles in the entire show were unrelated to Qin Shaoyi. She had drawn two of them.

The frustration and anxiety of drawing blind boxes made Hu Xiu even more determined. She quickly bought another ticket.

The suburban scenery passed quickly by the bus window, and Hu Xiu thought, The wind whipping through my hair is the determination I have for pursuing love.

And having learned her lesson, this time she carefully observed the character bags of Qin Shaoyi’s group. She carefully memorized the black postman’s bag and the brown postman’s bag.

Another shabby bag belonged to a communist party member, likely a traitor from Qin Shaoyi’s group. She couldn’t have that one. She came here to be loyal to Qin Shaoyi, her burning heart would only belong to him.

In the dressing room, she solemnly reached for the brown postman’s bag, changed into a British plaid dress, and even curled the ends of her hair and touched up her makeup like Zhao Xiaorou. Everything was perfect this time—she was just waiting to interact with Qin Shaoyi.

In Qin Shaoyi’s group, she would be able to see him from start to finish, complete the tasks he assigned, and hopefully, be protected by him during the escape!

The gate of Rongcheng opened, and out walked a man wearing a white shirt with a white suit jacket draped over his arm. He had a large frame and deep-set features, with black vintage glasses perched on a strong, straight nose. His features resembled those of a European-American mixed descent.

He spoke: “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s getting late. I am Qin Shaoyi, the Minister of Finance in Rongcheng. Please bring your invitation and come with me into Rongcheng.”

Hu Xiu had finally drawn Qin Shaoyi’s group, but the actor playing him had changed. As she entered the city, she sadly grabbed the girl helping with the storyline: “What happened to the previous Qin Shaoyi? Is he not performing anymore?”

“The actors have schedules. This time, it’s this Qin Shaoyi’s turn,” the girl explained.

Reluctantly, Hu Xiu dragged her feet into Rongcheng. Standing in the lobby of the hotel at the start of the first session, she watched as Qin Shaoyi and Ning Zechen performed a confrontation, her heart shattering into pieces.

Both actors had been replaced. The new Qin Shaoyi was upright, strikingly handsome, and full of imposing energy. Even when Ning Zechen lifted him by the collar, he didn’t smile deviously but instead only made her feel increasingly lost.

Once inside Qin Shaoyi’s room, she mechanically listened to the mixed-race Qin Shaoyi explaining the storyline. Around her, the girls were eagerly flirting with him, joking about keeping the money he paid for his tasks. Hu Xiu realized that it wasn’t necessary to just quietly complete tasks when playing. The girls who were good at flirting and relationships could purposefully interact with the actors and have fun doing it.

She didn’t have the luck to draw the Qin Shaoyi she liked, nor did she have the courage or skill to flirt with him.

She hadn’t eaten breakfast in her rush to leave, and when she stood up, she felt a bit lightheaded. The new Qin Shaoyi caught her and asked if she was feeling unwell.

But this gentle inquiry didn’t make her heart race. There was no electric connection when their eyes met. Without the original Qin Shaoyi, there was no chemistry.

She didn’t like this Qin Shaoyi; she liked the previous one. Feeling down, she stood in the lobby, and the friendly Li Mazi from the first session greeted her: “You’re back in Rongcheng?”

She had already bought the tickets, so she might as well make the most of it. The trip from Xujing to the city center took five to six hours each way, so she needed to have fun.

Smiling, she pulled out two bundles of cash and asked Li Mazi, “Hey, do you know where I can get a Kanto Army pass?”

This time, she had the most fun. It reminded her of the days when she was a backup actress in college. She got familiar with Li Mazi and even worked as a piano player in a ballroom to earn money.

With her level 10 skills, she managed to trick the ballroom manager into giving her 50,000 yuan, then sold arms at a department store for 100,000. In the second session, she flipped her bag in front of the new Qin Shaoyi, and 200,000 yuan spilled out.

The whole table of players, including the new Qin Shaoyi, stared in shock: “Where did you get all that money...?”

In that moment, Hu Xiu dramatically declared, “I’m a heartless money-making machine.”

She successfully helped the new Qin Shaoyi buy his way to becoming the leader of Rongcheng, and once again, she watched as he scattered roses and money.

The new Qin Shaoyi had a wide frame, muscles filling his sleeves. He threw money without a trace of sympathy, turning around with his rounded chin and confident smile, as if victory was already in his grasp.

He had even modified the storyline slightly to fit his looks, almost giving himself the aura of a founding ruler.

Hu Xiu sat back and calmly watched the ending of the same version with a different feeling. She began to understand why, when Zhao Xiaorou had dragged her to see Tiny Times, she couldn’t feel any fluttering at the sight of the European-style handsome men in the film, and didn’t shed any tears for the story of friendship. Perfectly proportioned people, who do everything effortlessly, can’t inspire pity.

Leonardo DiCaprio, with his sharp chin and short nose, was so thin in his youth. He played the neurotic, fragile Rimbaud and the free and charming Jack in Titanic. The Heart’s Eclipse was the muse for her idea of love.

In the battle royale, Hu Xiu felt more secure with a knife in her hand. As she was protected by the strong Qin Shaoyi in the darkness, she felt an intense sense of safety and determination, believing she could make it to the final round.

It seemed like Qin Shaoyi, noticing how good she was at making money in the previous round, deliberately protected her more. Even when the lights in the room dimmed, he shielded her against the wall.

Hu Xiu thought to herself that a man who made her feel so safe would make a great partner—brave and strategic when working together.

Finally, with three people left, the vision was poor in the corner. Hu Xiu pushed herself out and ran ahead, while Qin Shaoyi behind her shouted, “Be careful, there’s danger ahead!”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s already this far. If I don’t succeed, I’ll die trying!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, a male player from the right corridor emerged and stabbed a knife into her chest. The blade glinted as Hu Xiu fought fiercely in this Hunger Games-like moment, almost making it to the end.

The gentle Qin Shaoyi, still behind her, said, “I told you to be careful. My team only has you left. Now, you’ve fallen too.”

Before leaving Rongcheng, just as the gate was about to close, the new Qin Shaoyi spoke through the crack, “Maybe this is the only time you’ll play, but you won’t forget. I’ll remember you.”

Hu Xiu smiled and waved. “I’ll remember you too, Qin Shaoyi.”

At 8:30 PM, after the game ended, the other eleven players were still asking questions to the assistant explaining the story.

Hu Xiu sat in place, checking her phone when her client suddenly called her to handle a copywriting task in the group chat.

Her salary had been docked for three months, yet the client continued assigning tasks, demanding the copy be submitted within an hour.

Halfway through agreeing, Hu Xiu smiled—As a freelancer, earning 4,000 a month, I could only play Snowpiercer eight times.

She couldn’t quit either. She had been playing too much recently, and if she didn’t continue working and pushing for the money, she wouldn’t even be able to pay her rent.

As other players changed and left, she pulled out her computer, changed her clothes, and went back to the break area to use the Wi-Fi to submit the copy before leaving.

Her client, monitoring the account manager, sent her messages every fifteen minutes. Work was too urgent. As a freelancer, she had to be on call 24/7.

She might even need to pull an all-nighter to revise the draft. She hadn’t planned her life well, and now, after losing herself in the frenzy over young actors and spending money recklessly, she could only say to herself, I deserve this.

After an hour of work, once she finished submitting the draft, Hu Xiu grabbed her bag and jacket from the locker. She heard people talking in the lobby, and her heart skipped a beat uncontrollably.

A magnetic voice echoed in the B1 lounge outside Rongcheng, as Qin Shaoyi, wearing a denim jacket and hiking boots, chatted with the receptionist while holding a cardboard box. His black, short, curly hair was fixed to the top of his head like a semi-permanent style. His gaze slid from his forehead to his brow bone, then paused for a moment before sliding to the tip of his nose, and finally landed on his soft, full lips, as if falling into a pink net of affection.

Carrying the box toward her, he continued to chat with other actors—among them, the same charming Ning Zechen from earlier.

Even facing Hu Xiu’s gaze, Qin Shaoyi didn’t look aside. He must have known someone was watching him.

In that moment, Hu Xiu’s feelings of grievance, longing, and sadness all found a reason and rushed to her chest.

And in front of the indifferent Qin Shaoyi, she felt like a girl with a secret crush, being ignored—mediocre, as if she were invisible.

Why...

Hu Xiu slammed the locker door shut. As she brushed past Qin Shaoyi, she deliberately twisted her ankle and bumped into him. The box fell to the ground, and his costume—a white shirt, black vest, and a torn bloodstained shirt—scattered on the floor. It was his costume, the one he wore in the scenes she wasn’t part of, when he played Qin Shaoyi. He was charming, which was a basic quality of an actor.

She fought back tears, not even turning her head. “I didn’t see you. Sorry.”