Chapter 61

This was his true face: calm, restrained, unexpectedly blunt, a master of dousing cold water, instantly bringing clarity.

Gu Yi looked carefully at the sign outside the door, confirming that it was indeed the “Don’t Disturb Comedy Center.” Had she arrived too early? She texted Liu Ran, who replied that it was still early and suggested she sit for a while; the performance would begin at 7:30.

It was already 6:45... not too early, right? Well, perhaps the audience wouldn’t arrive quickly because it was after work hours. The small theater was about a ten-minute walk from the Dazhi Station, and its location wasn’t easy to find. Gu Yi looked at the message from Liu Ran, noticing that the enthusiastic tone had disappeared after she signed the contract. Had she already been accepted as part of their team? She sat down on a stool under the stage, missing the curtains and the backstage sofa of ounce. The red sofa, soaked in cigarette smoke, made her back and waist ache, but it felt like the space where every actor could grow wildly.

Now, this folding stool seemed to tell her: “Run away.”

By 7:30, only a few people trickled in. Gu Yi sat in the front row and greeted them, exchanging glances. This scene seemed strangely familiar, reminding her of the time when she performed with Achi and the others at Hongqiao. Even that time had been better, at least there had been five audience members. Here, at 7:30, there were only two. There were also around twenty signed-up actors, but only four showed up. The plan was to fill an hour of performance, with tickets priced at 19 yuan. Gu Yi thought to herself, “Well, since I’m here, I have to perform. Small theaters start like this, and it will get better in the future. Even if there’s just one audience member, I’ll perform.”

But when she jumped onto the stage and saw the lights, with no one in the audience, the white reflective stools were too glaring. The classic reassuring line, “Since I’m here, I might as well perform,” couldn’t save her now. Her delivery was stammering, and the audience looked utterly confused. Occasionally, a few elderly uncles and aunts came in and asked her enthusiastically, “Young lady, I have a piece of music criticism here. Can you comment on it?”

It was written in ornate characters, but Gu Yi didn’t quite catch it. She couldn’t figure out if she was at a comedy show or a book club, feeling like she had ended up working overtime in a completely different place. Thanks to the enthusiasm of the elderly audience, the first-row viewers successfully escaped, and in the first signed performance by the actors, Gu Yi added two of the uncles on WeChat, receiving a row of thumbs-ups. Liu Ran asked in the group chat: “How was the performance today?”

Unable to hold back, Gu Yi finally checked the “Don’t Disturb Comedy” Weibo. It had 10,000 followers, most of which seemed to be bought. As someone who worked in new media, she never expected to check the size of the agency before signing the contract. The more she thought about it, the more off it felt. She went to check the company on Tianyancha, discovering it was founded in November 2018 with a registered capital of 1 million yuan. The place still smelled of fresh paint... This club had existed for less time than she had been doing stand-up. It seemed they were just taking advantage of the “boom” in comedy.

She needed to stay calm and not panic. She called Liu Ran, who was still at a bar, probably talking to other actors about signing contracts. When she mentioned the audience count, Liu Ran wasn’t surprised: “Actually, the four performers today are relatively low in popularity. Do you know an actor named Achi? When he came to try performing, there were about 20 to 30 people. He performed for 15 minutes, and the crowd response was decent.”

“But don’t you have any fan base?”

“We’re a platform, a club. Only when the actors become famous will the platform become famous. Actors also need to take some responsibility for the number of people at their shows. The full house at ounce wasn’t because of you, but because it’s a well-established comedy bar. You should promote your shows on your Weibo and public accounts. Only then will people who like you come. You need to cultivate your own fanbase.”

Her words left Gu Yi with no rebuttal.

A week later, for the second performance, Gu Yi reposted the show’s Weibo post. The likes on her repost exceeded those on the original post. Some viewers even showed up for her, greeting her before the show: “Sister, we came to support you!”

She managed to get seven audience members, and the venue, 100 square meters in size, was brightly lit with incandescent bulbs. The five lesser-known actors did their best to entertain, but the sound reverberated in the empty room with minimal laughter, making for an awkward atmosphere with twelve people. On the surface, Gu Yi was laughing, but deep inside, she was crying. ounce had given her the illusion, and the variety shows had filled her head with wonderful dreams. But the truth was, stand-up comedy wasn’t popular — only Yu Dule’s company was.

The third performance ended, and an audience member asked Gu Yi, “You were quite funny. Will you be on the second season of the comedy variety show this year?”

Gu Yi felt this was a full-blown insult: the audience was innocent, they didn’t understand, but this comment was like telling her that her skills weren’t good enough and there was no way to argue back.

When she got home and opened the door, the camera coughed, and, as expected, gave her another scare. She angrily called, “If you scare me again, I’ll take down the camera.”

“I was just messing with you. I’ve noticed you’ve been off lately. Is there anything you want to share?”

“No, just busy with work.”

“From what I can sense, you haven’t contacted me for several days, so I’m guessing you have something bothering you. And it’s the kind of thing you don’t want me to know about. If it’s work, you’d come to me to vent, because you think your boss and colleagues are either stupid or idiotic. But you didn’t mention it and are hiding it. Did you sign the ‘Don’t Disturb’ contract?”

“...”

“Be honest.”

“Yes,” Gu Yi said, her voice trailing off, “There aren’t many audience members, most of it depends on the actors’ own efforts. The company has tried to promote it, but the boss doesn’t really know comedy, so everything feels a bit off.”

“Do you want me to tell you something nice or something harsh?”

“I hope you don’t say anything at all.” Gu Yi gritted her teeth. “I need to figure things out on my own. You’re not really into comedy, and if things go bad, I’ll take the blame. Don’t scold me.”

There was silence on the other end for a while. “Okay, I won’t say anything.”

Gu Yi held back her tears. She didn’t rush to the Van Gogh Museum to throw herself into Liang Daiwen’s arms, as the warm, affectionate romance from before felt wrong—completely unlike a comedian. She needed to think independently. With Liang Daiwen being so clingy right now, she couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t end up crying. Love made two people act foolish.

Reluctantly hanging up the phone, Gu Yi reflected. Recently, the man who had been so excited to meet her and even bounced around while playing claw machines seemed normal now—calm, restrained, and unexpectedly blunt. He was a master of cold water, instantly waking her up. Gu Yi felt a little better. If he had comforted her with soft, gentle words like, “Don’t worry, I’ll be here with you,” she would’ve questioned her taste in men.

Comedians didn’t need idol-drama relationships. But she felt a bit sour. Signing the “Don’t Disturb” contract was like setting herself up for a painful lesson. If she had known from the beginning she had to start over, she might as well have talked to Uncle Lu about opening her own club.

The next day after work, she met up with Yu Dule. He wasn’t at ounce lately because the first episode of the variety show had started recording. The computers in the editing room were roaring, and he had the air conditioning on while editing. Yu Dule, who had snuck out of ounce, expressed his concerns: “Did you get scammed? This Liu Ran, I’ve seen him twice. He specifically targets open-mic comedians for contracts. The boss probably got some investment to start the comedy company, but they don’t really know much about comedy. The investment should have provided more promotion money, right? Are all the actors handling things by themselves?”

“The operations are run by a 93-year-old girl with 10,000 followers on Weibo. Probably 9,900 of them were bought. She’s a nice person, though. She says she’ll try her best, but there’s really no one else. The practice sessions aren’t that effective. The atmosphere feels too much like... an internet company.”

“Can you cancel the contract?”

“It says we have to pay compensation, but there was no signing bonus, so I don’t know what we’re paying for.”

“Comedy needs a wilder place, like a bar. This environment... it’s like a pyramid scheme. If you don’t want to break the contract, at least renovate the place. I’ve been in ounce for a long time and learned a key principle: comedy is something people watch while drinking a beer at a bar. You need a relaxed atmosphere, something that brings fun to life. What you have now... is internet-style comedy?”

Gu Yi quickly pushed him out. “Let’s go, I’ll treat you to dinner.”

They ate a simple meal in the B1 level of the mall, and Gu Yi asked if he wanted to watch an open mic after, but Yu Dule replied, “It’s not on the way. I don’t live on Jianguo West Road anymore. I’ve moved to Ganquan Second Village. Remember this place?”

Gu Yi was surprised. Yu Dule had lived nearby when he first graduated—an area with loud overpasses, cheap housing, and a neighborhood with a low-income vibe. Renting there cost under 2000, and given Yu Dule’s current income, it seemed unnecessary for him to live so modestly. Yu Dule tapped his cigarette pack, about to smoke. “I don’t need luxury living for editing. I only sleep at home. Ganquan Second Village is ten minutes away by bike, very close. When I have free time, I’m always at Guan Xingxin’s place.”

“Why don’t you live together since you’re dating?” Gu Yi pointed upstairs as they took the elevator, and once they stepped out of the mall, Yu Dule lit a cigarette, looking troubled.

“You forgot? She kicked me out once. Most of the time I’m at her place, but if she kicks me out again, I’ll need somewhere to stay. Otherwise, I’ll feel uneasy.” Yu Dule paused. “I met my ex-girlfriend the other day. She came to Shanghai for business and met with our director group. It was... unavoidable. She’s working on a well-known variety show that’s always rated above 8.5 on Douban. The scripts are meticulous, a top-tier web variety show. I’ve been thinking—if I had just stayed in post-production and joined the director team back then, I’d be the well-known variety show director now. But I can’t blame anyone else. After all these twists and turns, I’m back to square one, and the woman I liked doesn’t seem to like me anymore.” Yu Dule’s voice trailed off as he extinguished his cigarette. He was always calm around Guan Xingxin—playing along, laughing a lot, and hiding his troubles after turning away.

“That said, at least your struggles have become part of your comedy material, right? Maybe those of us in comedy need this kind of pain to turn it into something funny. Then, in the laughter of the crowd, we get to release the bitterness. How did we manage to turn this into joy? Are we masochists?”

“I’ll take you to the computer lab sometime. There are so many clips these people have cut out that couldn’t make it to the show,” Yu Dule suddenly asked, “Has Guan Xingxin ever mentioned anything about her family? I saw ‘Chen Ma’ on her caller ID besides her mom, and she answered vaguely.”

“No. But if you want to marry her, you should ask more clearly,” Gu Yi said, thinking that some things were better for Guan Xingxin to explain herself.

“I don’t know. According to my understanding, a person’s first romantic partner is usually the ideal type, someone with beautiful eyes, a good body, and a lot of idealizations and obsessions projected onto the other person, so the love is intense. For example, when our exes find new partners or get married, we often think they’re not as good as we were, because, over time, they realize the most important person is themselves, and pleasing themselves is crucial. In other words, there are many things in life that are more interesting and meaningful than a marriage partner. If the partner isn’t ideal, there’s no need to dwell too much on it; just do what’s beneficial to yourself, since marriage is just for passing time. But Guan Xingxin is the girl I dream of. I like her, and I love her with all my heart, without any distractions. I’m willing to use all my humility, but if marriage would damage or erode this love, then I don’t want to get married. But I... I do want to get married. I don’t know if you can understand this feeling.”

“Don’t make assumptions. If I have assumptions about Liang Daiwen, he would be the kind of ‘unapproachable, serious male audience with a mental obsession, a master of sarcasm, and a love life sentenced to death’.”

Just then, Yu Dule said, “Not everyone has the determination to fight like you do.”

This reminded Gu Yi of something. She immediately rushed to Van Gogh Pavilion. Liang Daiwen, who had just finished showering and was drying his hair, was dragged to the study room. Gu Yi knelt down: “I need your help!”

Liang Daiwen narrowed his eyes: “You have this kind of hobby?”

“...You’re so dirty.”

“Get to the point.”

“Please help me with a design. The venue for ‘Trouble No More’ is just filled with white folding chairs and a blue background; it feels so cold. I want to make a design to show them if they can make any changes. The comedy poster is also problematic, I’ll design it myself.”

“You’re really getting your money’s worth with this actor.”

“I also wanted to ask if they have a budget for a brochure. I can help with that too. I’ve had great taste during my time at ‘One Week’. After meeting Yu Dule, he reminded me, I’ve signed the contract, so I might as well try a little harder.”

“I was already retired, had deleted all my design software, and now I have to download it again for you,” Liang Daiwen clicked his mouse, “What a sin.”

“Do you have such a big grudge against Zhang Qingya that you deleted the software?”

“The clients are too annoying.”

Putting the previously done furniture models in a 100-square-meter space wasn’t hard, but due to the room’s color scheme and layout, Liang Daiwen deeply understood the frustration of dealing with a client who doesn’t know what they’re doing but still wants to give instructions. Gu Yi, having spent a lot of time in magazines, was extremely picky about aesthetics, always aiming for something stylish. However, for a designer who’s served many high-end clients, it felt too extravagant, not simple enough, and lacking in standout features. Gu Yi truly understood why Liang Daiwen needed Zhang Qingya. When responding to client demands, she could say just a few words, hitting the mark every time, her sharp tongue and skillful retorts making clients feel defeated. Whenever she pointed out something, Liang Daiwen would throw the mouse aside: “You do it.”

“The red sofa with this dark brown is too sophisticated, it’s too niche, do you remember the ounce feeling?”

“That one was too casually decorated and faded.”

“This area should leave space for posters, if we put up the posters for every issue, it’ll look richer.”

“Then why hang a board? It’s too complicated.”

“I just feel like this looks too new. The surrounding area is close to People’s Square, and when you enter here, it still has the vibe of the Bulgari Hotel.”

“Don’t design that, just buy some junk.”

After a few back-and-forth exchanges, Gu Yi got tired and no longer wanted to talk to Liang Daiwen. She sat on the floor of the study, losing all appetite, desire, and creativity, staring in despair at Liang Daiwen: “How did Zhang Qingya stand you for five years?”

“Talent.”

“Clients scolding you is just self-defense.”

Liang Daiwen slowly shifted his gaze: “You’re overestimating me.”

But Gu Yi surprisingly felt a bit of happiness. Liang Daiwen, in his work mode, sharp-tongued and unemotional, was much cuter than when he was caught up in a claw machine game. She probably liked... this kind of personality in him. By four or five in the morning, he still hadn’t finished the design, and Liang Daiwen called her to sleep. She dragged the pillow to the floor and lay down: “I’ll stay here with you.”

“If you catch a cold, don’t blame me.”

The true Liang Daiwen. Gu Yi, confused, said: “Based on how you loved me before, shouldn’t you be the one worried about me catching a cold and coaxing me to bed? Where did that passionate teenager go?”

“Would you leave if I told you to? Why would I do something pointless? Fake concern has zero value,” Liang Daiwen took out a thick coral fleece blanket from the cabinet, “Either sleep on the sofa, or here on the floor, I can turn on the underfloor heating.”

“Big brother, not necessary, it’s May.” Gu Yi folded the blanket in two and crawled in: “Robot, garbage cat sleeps first.”

Gu Yi fell asleep to the sound of the mouse clicking. Liang Daiwen was even more serious than she had imagined, working all night to finish the design. He yawned and woke her up: “If you can restore seventy percent of my design, it will be much better than ounce. As for the materials, you guys can figure that out, I only do furniture, not renovations.”

This man finished speaking and quickly washed up, then practically shot onto the bed like a rocket: “Don’t wake me up, I’ll go to work in two hours.”

Gu Yi sent the design and the brochure plan to Liu Ran, and after a while, Liu Ran responded: “Can you be more specific with the plan? I need to discuss it with the boss.”

But there was no response after that. Gu Yi was really a bit angry this time. At least put some effort into it to make the rent worthwhile? A week later, Liu Ran replied: “Sorry, Gu Yi. We can’t really move things around in the theater because it’s surrounded by residential areas and protected buildings. We’ll try to add a red curtain to the stage, put yellow floor paper down, and change the chairs. Your suggestions for the posters are great, but we don’t have enough staff right now, so could you design it and send it to us?”

Gu Yi increasingly felt that this was a trap, but she still drew the illustration. The comic poster for the four performers of the show was posted on Weibo, attracting only six or seven viewers. The jokes didn’t land well either. After the performance, the actors had a debrief, and Gu Yi said, “This isn’t working, we need to find an open mic to practice. Only with more people will we know where we need to improve.” Before she could go to an open mic, a commercial gig reached out to her after seeing the open mic performance of You Worry, a West restaurant and bar in Jing’an district. When she asked about Liu Ran, the reply came instantly: “For commercial gigs brought to us from the outside, we require a commission of 50%.”

“You’re offering a performance fee of 500, and you’re taking 50%? Why not just insult me directly?”

No reply came. Gu Yi was really angry and sent another message: “May I ask, if I handle this kind of commercial gig myself, will it affect the contract?”

“Yes, it will—considered a breach of contract.”

“What’s the consequence?”

“According to the contract, you will be banned from performing worldwide.”

... What?