Chapter 80

Even if I know you’ll eventually shine, at this moment, I’m the only one who can make you happy.

The notebook was filled with various ideas for making Liang Daiwen happy. Gu Yi stared at it, her brain working at full speed. 

Warm and healing? Tried it, didn’t work. 

Extreme sports? Tried it, only she got injured. 

Escape rooms? Liang Daiwen might as well work there as an NPC playing a real ghost. 

Barrier-free communication? He’s entirely resistant to that right now. 

Reverse psychology? Might just provoke Liang Daiwen to run away. 

After much deliberation, Gu Yi decided to invite him to Antelope and seriously have him be an audience member. Since he wasn’t inclined to work and she was fully immersed in her stand-up comedy career, she couldn’t afford to let her work be affected. Recently, the audience at Antelope consisted mostly of random walk-ins. Liang Daiwen would sit in a nearby café at three or four in the afternoon, queue up at five, and just make it in time for the open mic session. In Gu Yi’s words, if you don’t want to work, then come and see how hard others are working. Let the other performers feel the harsh reality of failing to make the audience laugh. 

Who knows? Maybe someone would actually make him laugh. Before the show started, Gu Yi bought Liang Daiwen a drink, suddenly remembered something, and pointed at the bartender. “Hey, didn’t you sneak him in to watch my stand-up before?” 

The bartender squinted and asked Liang Daiwen, “This place has changed ownership already, and you still haven’t managed to win over Gu-jie? That’s strange… you don’t seem like someone who can’t figure things out...” 

Liang Daiwen picked up his bottle and walked away. 

The second set of Gu Yi’s solo stand-up show was themed “Apologies for Being a Woman.” Only female comedians were allowed to perform, and Gu Yi was initially worried there wouldn’t be enough participants. As it turned out, she had been overthinking. 

Female performers at open mics often dressed casually, although there were also some with refined makeup. Without exception, their eyes gleamed as if this was a special event dedicated to roasting men. The first to go on stage was a woman with a slouchy outfit and thick-rimmed glasses. Her gaze was sharp, and when she smiled, her teeth weren’t perfectly aligned. 

“Hello, everyone. It’s quite a surprise to see today’s audience split equally between men and women. I assumed a women’s special would mostly draw female spectators. Shanghai is still a relatively equal city, at least in terms of audience composition, which seems to allow men the freedom to participate. If I were the organizer, I would’ve barred men from entering today, just to let them experience what exclusion feels like—something they rarely encounter in the workplace.” 

Applause rose from the audience. 

“I’ve been paying attention lately; everyone’s talking about women’s status—men and women alike. There’s been a surge in works emphasizing female independence. Sounds good, right? Here’s the thing—I’ve been on blind dates recently. I’m a PhD student, and I have to omit that detail because it would harm men’s sense of superiority. My supervisor is an academician, and he’s the only one who thinks my degree isn’t high enough. Everyone else finds me intimidating. Oh, and I live in a school dorm and earn 2,400 yuan a month. Male friends, doesn’t that income seem completely non-threatening?” 

“I’m also a big fan of film and TV, especially female-centric stories. But I’ve noticed that even in Hollywood, a woman’s ultimate triumph is usually… marrying a prince and finding love. This narrative direction is great, really. My niece is now studying hard to become someone like the protagonist of The Princess Diaries. But honestly, she needs to wake up. Men pick Anne Hathaway because she’s beautiful and a princess. If you work hard enough to become a PhD, they’ll find you… intimidating.” 

The atmosphere was lively and cheerful. 

Standing in the corner, Gu Yi knew that such occasions often brought in newer audiences, who might not be as receptive as before. But perhaps this kind of confrontation would subtly encourage some change, prompting reflection and fostering a little more respect for women. In that sense, it was worth it. She felt a bit relieved knowing the audience today was capped at thirty men and thirty women. 

Glancing at Liang Daiwen in the audience, she noticed that although he wasn’t laughing, he was listening intently. This kind of rehabilitation might not mean much to him, but who knows? Maybe one line would resonate with him and stir some kind of emotional response.

Next up was Gu Yi’s new friend, dressed in a tank top and pencil pants, her figure sizzling hot. She’d been performing at other clubs until recently, when she started doing open mic nights at Antelopes specifically for women-only events. Gu Yi had been really looking forward to seeing her.

As soon as the woman took the stage, people cheered. Is she that good? thought Gu Yi.

The performer waved her hand. “I know you’re all staring at my chest because I’m wearing a bra with padding today,” she said. “And I know most of you guys won’t even hear what I’m saying. After all, with me dressed like this, your minds are already boiling over. You’ll probably point out flaws in my body too—my waist isn’t thin enough, there’s a little belly, my legs don’t look strong... But honestly, if you watch porn, you don’t just jerk off to one type of woman. Fat ones, skinny ones, big tits, small tits—you want it all. Sometimes even mixed in the same video is more exciting. It’s about pretending you’ve conquered the world, right?”

Gu Yi pursed her lips and stared wide-eyed. Thankfully, this venue banned recording. But what came next left her even more shocked—who said Shanghai didn’t have America’s wild spirit? Here it was, right before her ears.

“In my free time, I like dating—swiping on Tinder and Tantan. I’m sure some of you here have used them too; don’t pretend you haven’t. Anyone who comes to this place is pretty open-minded.

“I’ve noticed that men care more about hookups than women do. Personally, I prefer novelty and pleasure over having a steady partner. But based on my experiences with most guys, they’re just... truly awful in bed.”

She emphasized each word for effect. The audience laughed heartily, but she didn’t pause.

“I’ve been around the block when it comes to men. Behind closed doors, they’re all pretty much the same. After trying everything out there, I found that the best toys are still those electronic gadgets from Taobao. They learn their moves from porn movies, so they get a huge kick out of humiliating acts—like smearing something they claim is precious onto our bodies. It doesn’t make sense to me. Is it made of rare gold or something? If you think it’ll beautify us, prove its chemical composition first. We all eat takeout and junk food anyway—so why should we treat your stuff as if it’s sacred?”

“Some men ask really deep questions. They want to know how we separate sex from love. If they’re willing to sleep with me, do they like me? Some even want to chat before meeting at an agreed-upon location. I tell them there’s no need for that; just meet face-to-face. But one guy said, ‘You’re a woman—why don’t you want to talk?’ Then he asked me to send him a photo. I blocked him right away. He still sent a friend request saying, ‘Damn it, can’t take a hint—I was trying to have an honest conversation with you. Why did you think I only wanted to sleep with you?’ I hope all women remember this: The first step towards gender equality is mutual pleasure—if a man doesn’t make you feel good, dump him.”

The boldness of her words stunned Gu Yi, but she found them strangely satisfying. She glanced at the male audience below—their smiles seemed forced. It wasn’t outright offensive, but they felt labeled somehow. The applause and cheers came mostly from the female audience.

Liang Daiwen, as the only one not laughing, naturally caught attention. The performer pointed at him. “Friend over there, you haven’t smiled once. Did I hit too close to home?”

Gu Yi broke out in sweat—Why has the plot turned on my boyfriend now?

But Liang Daiwen remained calm. “I deeply respect women,” he said.

“Oh? Can you give an example?”

“You really want me to say it? I always let her go first...”

Gu Yi quickly jumped up to cover his mouth—why was this argument affecting her? The person who had been so calm before would now blurt out anything without thinking. No way! Laughter filled the hall below as people cheered him on.

The actor recognized Gu Yi and sang out in a mocking tone, “Sounds like you’ve got a happy sex life—I’m so jealous.”

In what should have been a peaceful women’s event, Gu Yi felt her heart about to crack open. Apart from this unexpected incident involving herself, everything else had been perfect.

Liang Daiwen remained composed; they’d already said all these things—what could he not say? Wasn’t equality between men and women supposed to be a thing?

Gu Yi sucked in a sharp breath. There are many people here who know you’re my boyfriend, she thought, including Yu Doule from yesterday.

“What are you afraid of?” Liang Daiwen asked.

Shut up! Gu Yi told herself, I won’t praise your skills publicly just because others do.

Liang Daiwen continued, “It seems like we haven’t seen Yu Doule and Guan Xingxin together for quite some time.”

After hesitating for a few seconds, she slowly replied, “They broke up.”

As Gu Yi explained the situation, Liang Daiwen nodded. He lay back on the sofa with a sigh. “Human nature is truly hard to figure out.”

Gu Yi felt a heavy sadness in her heart; it seemed like all the unhappy things she experienced would dilute and absorb into this feeling.

When Gu Yi met Yu Doule at the editing room, his eyes were sunken, his beard long and unkempt, his whole body emaciated. Besides working on stand-up comedy shows during regular hours, he also had to edit variety programs featuring Guan Xingxin after work. He was in terrible shape, with listening to stand-up being his only real break from monotony. Unable to bear seeing him suffer, Gu Yi bought dinner and stayed late with him, while other colleagues left together for food. Only the two of them remained seated before their computers. The machines hummed loudly, cursors spinning when they froze. Yu Doule banged his mouse hard each time, exclaiming, “Come on, don’t fail me now!”

“Why don’t you take a break? Someone else could handle her footage.” On the screen, Guan Xingxin in a purple dress went on a date with a male student. They sat in a café, getting to know each other over cupcakes. The freeze frame ended as the scene cut to her secretly writing another boy’s name on a notepad. Yu Doule laughed, explaining that he couldn’t let anyone else edit her scenes. I know best which angles show her off, what details people love most, and what tricks will make viewership explode.

“That’s a bit too painful to watch.”

“The worst is already over,” Yu Doule said, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Back then, I asked my ex-girlfriend if she could give me some editing work to earn extra cash. She mentioned this dating show had approached her for a role, but she wasn’t keen at first. Later, when the platform raised their offer and brought along the script, she thought it might not be great writing, but the actors were decent enough—so why not make some quick money? When I saw Guan Xingxin on set, I was smitten. But do you know what hurt me most?” Yu Doule took a deep breath before continuing, “I realized how perfect she was for these kinds of shows.”

Gu Yi couldn’t find the words; instead, she just patted him on the shoulder.

Yu Doule lit up a cigarette. “This small team was put together last minute too. We’d review footage while eating takeout, picking apart the actresses’ looks. Everyone agreed that girl with flowing long hair was appealing—their type. You see, from the start, she never belonged to me.”

“Don’t lose heart. You’ll meet someone you like even more. If it doesn’t work out, just cut her out completely. Isn’t that revenge enough? After a few months of getting nowhere, she’ll come back to you.”

“No need. I’m not that bad. Whether a variety show is good or not depends on the editing.” Yu Dule clicked the mouse, his left hand skillfully working the keyboard. “Even though I know she’ll shine, it’s me who can make her truly go viral.”

Gu Yi watched the screen. The clips of Guan Xingxin left behind were indeed stunning and captivating—she had done an excellent job, better than how she usually interacts with people. Yu Dule didn’t say anything more and silently focused on editing. The food on the table had gone cold, untouched, with the chopsticks left unused. His phone was quiet, and Gu Yi knew Liang Daiwen wouldn’t contact her first.

She had to ease Liang Daiwen’s unease somehow. Remembering the stars Liang Daiwen had once stuck under the bed, Gu Yi mulled over it for a long time until she saw an app advertisement on Weibo: “Falling in love is like a nebula.”

An idea struck her.

She bought a long string of fairy lights and tied them to the fixed brackets on either side of the living room with colored ropes—because Liang Daiwen often worked out indoors, there were handles for resistance bands on the doors. Gu Yi figured the height was just right, so she looped the ropes and lights, planning to later stick cotton used in wedding decorations to create clouds. Once completed, it would feel like looking up at the sky. For now, she decided to tie the lights, knowing Liang Daiwen wouldn’t guess her plan just from seeing them.

After securing the ropes, she started wrapping the lights, carefully spacing them out. Standing on a stool, she moved bit by bit, occasionally tugging at the ropes to check their sturdiness. The length seemed adjustable, forming a curve. She even tried wrapping it around her wrist a couple of times out of curiosity. It fit snugly, just as she thought. But before she could untie her wrist, she accidentally kicked the stool away, leaving herself hanging from the rope. This confirmed one thing: the rope was strong, wrapping twice around her wrist without coming loose. Dangling fifteen centimeters off the ground, her hands quickly turned purple, and no amount of struggling could make it break—what great quality!

Her phone was still on the sofa, and Gu Yi felt like crying. The surprise was real, but with her knack for turning everything into an accident, this was not how she imagined it. Five minutes later, Liang Daiwen walked in, finding Gu Yi hanging mid-air. “What, are you trying to hang yourself?”

“I accidentally kicked the stool over! I was trying to surprise you. Don’t hit me!” Gu Yi thought, This rope is seriously too strong. My hands are already purple, and it hasn’t snapped. If you hadn’t come home, I’d have fallen an hour later and probably needed an amputation.

Liang Daiwen said, “Get down, I promise I won’t hit you.”

“I can’t get down!” Gu Yi thought, Is this about whether you’ll hit me or not? This is about my personal safety. If it weren’t for you, would I even be stuck like this? Liang Daiwen paused and then reflected, “Do you think I’m that harsh? Your first instinct was to be afraid I’d hit you.”

“Can we stop analyzing this? Just get me down. Look at my hands.”

Liang Daiwen stepped closer and saw her dark purple hands. He grabbed hold of Gu Yi, lifting her about twenty centimeters, which loosened the rope. With two reverse twists, her hands were free. Liang Daiwen sighed, “Even though I can’t fully understand it, don’t go losing an arm just to move me, okay?”

“Dear Aunt Gu, I’d do anything for you,” Gu Yi quipped, seizing the chance to tease Liang Daiwen. “Even if I lost an arm, we could still do... you know, certain things.”

“You’re so cheeky.” Liang Daiwen took her hands into his own, rubbing them to restore circulation. Gu Yi glanced at the half-finished lights above and suddenly remembered something in the bathroom. She called Liang Daiwen to follow her, thinking, Good thing I saved my trump card; otherwise, I’d completely lose face today.

In the bathroom was a basin 50 centimeters in diameter and 20 centimeters deep. Gu Yi swiftly filled it with cola and tore open a bag of Mentos. “Watch this, Liang Daiwen. I’m about to take you to the clouds.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to show you a cloud.” With that, Gu Yi dumped the entire bag of Mentos into the basin. She imagined a cloud shooting up to the ceiling, bringing Liang Daiwen to tears with its beauty. Instead, the cola foamed up slightly, forming a thin layer of bubbles, nothing remotely resembling a cloud. The scene was as quiet as a chicken. Gu Yi bent down to inspect it, puzzled, and lost her balance, falling straight into the basin. The cola spilled across the bathroom floor, flooding into the living room. The sweet scent filled the house. Gasping for air after choking on cola, Gu Yi wailed, “What the heck? Where’s the cloud? Isn’t it supposed to make a cloud?”

“Oh my god,” Liang Daiwen sighed. “That’s the elephant toothpaste experiment. You need hydrogen peroxide, potassium iodide, and dish soap with carbonated drinks to make it work. Honestly, it’s a relief you didn’t look it up—it releases heat and chemicals that can burn your skin.”

“Really?”

“Well, no cloud, but I did see a drenched chicken.”

“Did you just call me a chicken?”

It was a godlike response. Liang Daiwen fell silent, staring at her in exasperation. Gu Yi climbed out, soaking wet, her clothes clinging to her body in suggestive shapes. Liang Daiwen grabbed her by the collar and dragged her into the bathroom. “You shower. I’ll clean up the mess. And don’t pull stunts like this again. I’m not terminally ill, desperate to see the last bit of beauty in the world. This isn’t beautiful at all—it’s a disaster.”

Watching Liang Daiwen’s retreating back, Gu Yi thought of what Yu Dule had said in the editing room: Even if you shine brighter than I imagined, only I can bring you happiness.