The Protagonist Couple Refuses the Dating Show Shuraba - Chapter 1

The summer sea breeze felt like a sweet rain in the desert, carrying the scent of the ocean as it swept across the cruise ship, a vessel that had become the focal point of countless eyes.

The livestreams on major video platforms were bustling with noise, and the comment sections were so densely packed they almost obscured the screen:

“Yes! Finally, it’s my favorite ‘Truth or Dare’ moment!” “Fight! Fight! Let it run red for our Jiao-bao!” “I smell a Shuraba (battlefield of romance) coming on!!” “Ahhh, I want to see the brothers fighting for the prize!”

Under the cameras, the most popular dating variety show of the moment, Vows of Mountains and Seas had just concluded its first chapter, “The Mountain Vow,” filmed at the peak of Mount Tai. Now, it had ushered in the second chapter, “The Ocean Vow,” drifting out on the sea.

After the first episode, the guest with the highest discussion volume was Ming Jiao, who had become an internet sensation under the label of “Silly Beauty.” At this moment, he was sitting at the head of the table, preparing to be the first to spin the wheel for the upcoming game of Truth or Dare.

Ming Jiao was, in fact, the only non-celebrity on the show. He had originally been an employee at a cake shop and was invited to participate in this season of Vows of Mountains and Seas by pure chance. Yet, to everyone’s surprise, this young man who seemed to possess nothing but beauty had effortlessly won the favor of all the netizens.

Under Ming Jiao’s touch, the wheel prepared by the production team began to spin. He rested his chin on his hand, his large, sparkling eyes sizing up the other guests, who all wore different expressions. Under the focused attention of the audience, the pointer slowly came to a stop in front of a young man.

The young man had seemed distracted, but upon being pointed at, he froze for a moment before raising an eyebrow. Ming Jiao’s already large eyes went perfectly round, and he immediately said to the man with joyful surprise, “What a coincidence, it’s Xing-ge!”

The comments section exploded: “!!! Ah, it’s Xing-xing!!” “Yes, yes, Jiao-bao is so good at spinning!” “The moon should be matched with the stars!! The Xing-Jiao stock is soaring!!” “Damn it, the Yun-Jiao shippers are crying.”

Duan Xingge was currently the top-rated guest on the show. This, of course, excluded Ming Jiao, as in the eyes of most fans, Ming Jiao was the protagonist, and the others were NPCs being conquered by him. Naturally, the protagonist didn’t participate in popularity rankings.

Duan Xingge’s high popularity was not without reason. By age, he was the youngest guest, a year younger than Ming Jiao, perfectly fitting the “younger lover” trope. Yet, his handsome features were inversely proportional to his age; from his high-bridged nose to his deep, profound eyebrows and eyes, he was effortlessly superior in a way that made people jealous.

This aesthetic, paired with his youth, could easily lean toward being handsome but immature. However, there was no sense of “greenness” about Duan Xingge. The maturity that set him apart from his peers was likely tied to his past experiences.

Duan Xingge’s background was no secret in the entertainment industry. He was likely the only person who had debuted himself to advertise his own jewelry company to secure investment, while simultaneously juggling roles as a star, CEO, and shareholder. Many scoffed at a company head debuting as a celebrity. Yet, using these methods that others sneered at, he successfully took his company public in just a few months, shocking countless people in the shadows.

When people finally came to their senses, the jealousy and malice almost drowned their reason. Countless articles regarding Duan Xingge’s background flooded the internet. It turned out that the “young CEO” with assets over a hundred million who fought his way to the top wasn’t some self-made prodigy, but merely the son of a nanny. Rumor had it that Duan Xingge had spent his youth acting as a beast of burden for the Young Master of the Yun family, moonlighting as a bed-warmer, just to squeeze a few scraps of resources through the other man’s fingers. Unfortunately, he grew arrogant after receiving those resources, and soon after, he broke ties with his nominal “older brother.”

As it turned out, his new company lost its capital chain shortly after the split, forcing him to debut himself. However, these rumors did not have the intended effect. Instead, they garnered sympathy from many netizens, fueling Duan Xingge’s popularity even further.

Worth noting is that the “Young Master Yun” mentioned in this backstory was also on the cruise ship. When the wheel stopped at Duan Xingge, the camera, with great intuition, cut to that man. After Ming Jiao spoke, he subconsciously looked at him, but contrary to the audience’s expectations, the man’s expression remained indifferent, as if he were a complete stranger to Duan Xingge.

He wore light-colored casual clothing, but on his hands, he wore black silk gloves—a bizarre combination on anyone else, but one that complemented him perfectly. This was the “older brother” from the anecdote, the Young Master of the Yun family—Yun Qi—who was rumored to have treated the nanny’s son as a servant and lover before their bitter fallout.

Though, calling him that now might be inappropriate; the title of Chairman of Yueyun Jewelry suited him better. Unlike Duan Xingge’s vibrant, youthful energy, Yun Qi simply sat there, and his mere presence made people tremble. Yet, this didn’t distract from his breathtaking appearance. Rather than “handsome,” “beautiful” was a more fitting description. Unlike the standard “correct” beauty most people imagined, Yun Qi’s eyebrows and eyes were sharp, carrying an aura that kept strangers at a distance.

As for the silk gloves, as a world-renowned jewelry designer, wearing them had become Yun Qi’s habit. He only removed them when the precision of his work required it. To date, no one at least no outsider had touched the hands hidden beneath those gloves, and no one knew what would happen if they did.

His name truly seemed to signify something: Yun Qi was like a cold beauty high above in the clouds; beautiful, yes, but lacking the grounded simplicity of Ming Jiao. Sometimes, being too high up just makes one feel intimidated.

While everyone else was observing Yun Qi, the only person not looking was Duan Xingge. After Ming Jiao observed the atmosphere between the two, he blinked and said, “Xing-ge, would you like to choose Truth?”

Duan Xingge looked up and smiled. “Sure. What do you want to ask?”

Ming Jiao’s eyes brightened, but he quickly restrained his excitement, asking curiously, “Actually, I’ve always wanted to ask… was your wrist ever injured?”

Duan Xingge’s smile, which looked as if it had been drawn on, vanished instantly. But he quickly recovered, acting as if nothing had happened. Through the screen, the image was slightly distorted, and the audience didn’t notice anything. Only Ming Jiao froze, a chill crawling up his back. But the abnormality flashed by so quickly that Ming Jiao almost thought it was his imagination.

“Little Ming is so observant.” Duan Xingge lowered his gaze to look at his wrist as if nothing were wrong. “I didn’t expect you to notice such a small injury.”

During the first episode, Ming Jiao didn’t know Duan Xingge’s age, so he kept calling him “Xing-ge,” and even when Duan Xingge asked him to change it, he refused. Later, Duan Xingge jokingly gave him a nickname—”Little Ming.” The fans thought Duan Xingge was just teasing him and shipped them enthusiastically.

Ming Jiao replied matter-of-factly, “I’m just a bit slow, not stupid. Anyone close to you could see that something was wrong since you rarely use your left hand for anything.”

As soon as these words were spoken, some couldn’t help but glance at the man sitting on the other side of the round table. Only Ming Jiao, appearing completely oblivious, continued to care for Duan Xingge. “How did your left hand get injured back then? Does it still hurt?”

Duan Xingge did not answer immediately. Instead, he looked up at Yun Qi in the distance, seemingly hinting at something subtle. This hint brought a stagnant tension to the set. The livestreams, however, did the opposite. After three seconds of silence, the screen was flooded with question marks. Just as the audience started to speculate about whether Yun Qi had been abusive, Duan Xingge finally spoke.

“I was ignorant when I was young.” Duan Xingge sighed with a smile, his dimples showing, looking like someone who knew they had done wrong but had no intention of repenting. “I did some bad things, and that was the lesson I was left with.”

“Ah?” Ming Jiao opened his eyes wide. “Even if you made a mistake, it shouldn’t have been to the point where your wrist”

Yun Qi abruptly interrupted. “He deserved it.”

Ming Jiao choked. Duan Xingge, hearing this, was not angry, but nodded in agreement. “I truly did.”

Ming Jiao was so speechless that after a long pause, he said, “…Does your wrist still hurt?”

“It hasn’t hurt for a long time, though it certainly hurt back then.” Duan Xingge chuckled. “But no matter how much it hurt, I still don’t think it was a loss.”

He spoke in a vague manner, leaving it unclear what he meant by “not a loss.” The audience assumed he was intentionally provoking Yun Qi; the two had clashed many times before, and everyone was used to it. They didn’t think much of it, only deepening their belief that the relationship was truly bad after their fallout.

Yun Qi didn’t speak again. This attitude, combined with the subtle tension in their conversation, allowed the fans to immediately sense that something was wrong. The comments exploded: “Xing-xing must be acting spoiled to Jiao-bao!” “Emmm, what kind of ‘bad thing’ could mess up a wrist like that? Don’t tell me Yun Qi hit him? And to think people were still shipping them they’re clearly rivals! My poor Xing-xing.” “The gunpowder is so strong. Which marketing account said they were a couple? It almost made me ship the wrong CP. This is clearly a ‘brother fighting for a wife’ drama!” “Of course it’s because of that idiot Jiao-bao. In the first episode, he was still trying to play matchmaker, never expecting that they both had their eyes on our silly baby.”

The comments were a heated mess of discussion. Under the cameras, however, the topic ended, and the wheel continued to spin.

By the round table, Yun Qi appeared as composed as ever, but while others might not have noticed, Duan Xingge knew, Yun Qi was spacing out. The previous conversation had been like a switch, opening a box that had been sealed for years.

The sound of the waves faded from his ears. Memories flashed past like a short circuit, and the bizarre, disjointed images made Yun Qi knit his brows. At that time, he and Duan Xingge were still living in that old villa, but their relationship was already crumbling on the edge of a breakdown.

In the dim room, mixed with someone’s heavy breathing, a light fixture that had broken and hadn’t yet been repaired flickered. Duan Xingge was in a disheveled state, handcuffed to the head of the bed, with blood seeping from the corner of his mouth where he had been slapped. But there was cotton stuffed between the handcuffs and his wrists. It was hard to say what the person who locked him up was feeling—was it heartache, or was it anger at his stupidity, or perhaps both?

Yet, when this kid saw Yun Qi push the door open, he was actually able to laugh in such a pathetic state. He smiled with dimples, looking sweet and harmless, but what he said was, “Brother this is the third day already. I’m afraid you’ll pass out from exhaustion before you finish paying off the debt… Why don’t you let me go? You should consider yourself, too.”

He spoke vaguely, never clarifying what the debt was, seeming to take it for granted that they both knew. Yun Qi seemed tired of these threats; he didn’t even raise his eyelids, walking over to place the food on the bedside table.

Actually, Duan Xingge originally had one arm he could move freely, but he had ruined that for himself. The saying “don’t touch a tiger’s backside” was a metaphor for most, but for Duan Xingge, it was a literal description. The consequence of touching it was that both his arms were locked together, leaving no room for any movement other than basic physiological necessities. He was the epitome of asking for trouble, yet he was surprisingly willing, even delighted by it.

Theoretically, such a situation suggested a dance on the edge of boundaries, but these handcuffs had been handed to Yun Qi by Duan Xingge himself—it was entirely mutual. Unfortunately, this tactic of “retreating to advance” seemed completely ineffective on Yun Qi.

Duan Xingge leaned against the head of the bed, looking at the food and then at Yun Qi, finally blinking. “Brother, aren’t you going to unlock me?”

Yun Qi didn’t say a word; he simply set down the bowl and chopsticks and began to roll up his sleeves. Duan Xingge’s breath hitched at the sight of that wrist. After regaining his senses, he smiled. “Does Brother want to watch me eat while kneeling? If you have this hobby, you should have said so earlier…”

Yun Qi, however, made him shut up with a single sentence: “I’ll feed you.”

Duan Xingge’s words stuck in his throat, and he opened his eyes wide in astonishment. Yun Qi seemed not to notice his expression, sitting on the edge of the bed and bowing his head to pick up the bowl of rice.

The lighting in the room was dim, making it hard to see his expression. But from Duan Xingge’s angle, that patch of neck, rendered incredibly clear by the light, was as white as moonlight in the darkness dazzlingly white.

The last time Yun Qi had fed him like this was on his seventeenth birthday, when he had a high fever and couldn’t eat his birthday noodles. In truth, he hadn’t been that weak, but to get closer to Yun Qi, he had acted like a wilted cabbage, pitifully begging to be fed.

At that time, the distance between them was much closer than it was now. Yun Qi had been taken advantage of countless times before finally realizing, belatedly, that the little dog had grown up. This time, having finally learned his lesson, he maintained a strict distance between them. But as the saying goes, the devil is always one step ahead; he had no idea just how crazy Duan Xingge could be.

The kid was shockingly obedient while eating. But after the last bite, he started acting up again, insisting that Yun Qi feed him water. Yun Qi frowned at him for three seconds. In the darkness, the kid’s eyes were as innocent as a puppy’s, reminding him of when the little rabbit hadn’t been so rebellious and had asked for water while feverish.

So, Yun Qi’s heart softened once more. But as he put down the bowl to reach for the water, the short moment he closed the distance gave the “wolf-cub” a chance.

Just as Yun Qi picked up the teacup, he heard a sharp sound. The next second, his neck was hooked by an arm and pressed down. Caught off guard, half the tea spilled. Yun Qi subconsciously braced himself against the nearest support. The wet fabric and the scorching muscles beneath it made him freeze.

Before he could react, a familiar, wet warmth pressed against his lips, followed by a tingling, painful prick, and the gradually spreading taste of blood.

Everyone thought the old injury on Duan Xingge’s wrist was left over from being hit by Yun Qi for causing trouble, but only the two of them knew the truth.

It was a fracture he had twisted with his own hands just to get a kiss from Yun Qi.

This was the secret between them, hidden from outsiders the true, vicious nature of Duan Xingge, which no one but Yun Qi had seen, hidden beneath his gentle and considerate exterior. He was simply a mad dog that would stop at nothing.

That tingling sensation, mixed with pain and an ambiguity that made one’s scalp numb, seemed to surface on his lips again. Yun Qi couldn’t help but frown. At this moment, the wheel stopped right in front of him, pulling him back to the present.

Yun Qi looked up abruptly and met Duan Xingge’s gaze head-on.

“What a coincidence.”

The young man, appearing the polar opposite of the one in his memory, wore a polite smile, but his eyes shimmered with unfathomable emotion. He no longer called him “Brother”:

“Does Director Yun want to choose Truth, or Dare?”