Why Did the Top Alpha Suddenly Stop Acting Out? - Chapter 22

Ye Shuyi didn’t usually carry cash on her, but someone was always afraid she might suffer even the slightest inconvenience outside, so they would hide little surprises for her.

She walked to the wardrobe and took out the crossbody bag she had just put away, opening the hidden compartment inside. Sure enough, she found a stack of cash and a universal black card.

Just then, her phone buzzed in her pocket, signaling an incoming message. She took it out and saw it was from Song Kechi:

[Ye Bao’er, I left 10,000 in cash and a universal gold card in your bag.]

The message was followed by a sneaky “shh” sticker.

[Ye Baozi, remember to keep it low-key, okay? I heard most variety shows don’t allow personal funds. Use it secretly, and if you need more, just call me anytime, I’ll sneak it to you.]

The message ended with a smug “call me anytime” sticker.

Ye Shuyi glanced at the cash she had already handed to the staff and shook her head with a helpless smile, replying:

[Got it.]

She looked at the staff and asked, “Do I need to hand over the black card too?”

After checking with Director Lu, the staff replied, “No, that won’t be necessary. Sorry for disturbing you both.”

With that, they quickly dragged the burlap sack away without hesitation. Ever since Ye Shuyi had taken out the cash and smiled at the message, the temperature in one corner of the room had plummeted, making their scalps tingle. Staying even a second longer felt like risking collateral damage.

Yi Qian leisurely crossed her arms and walked over to sit on the bed, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Tsk tsk, seems like I accidentally landed myself a sugar mama roommate. Cash, black cards, tsk tsk.”

Ye Shuyi glanced at her, the corner of her lips curling as she slowly approached Yi Qian, her voice lazy and teasing.

“Be good, and I’ll let you use this card.”

She placed the card between her lips, gesturing for the other to take it.

When Yi Qian remained motionless, watching her, Ye Shuyi leaned in closer.

Yi Qian was forced backward onto the bed, propping herself up on her elbows as she stared up at the woman looming over her. Ye Shuyi’s fair skin seemed even more radiant against the black card, her dark eyes shimmering with an unusual light. With her slight lean forward, two strands of hair slipped over her shoulders, like bait meant to lure someone in.

Yi Qian’s throat moved unconsciously, as if entranced. Without thinking, she reached for the card between Ye Shuyi’s lips but just as her fingers were about to touch it, the other woman pulled it away first.

Ye Shuyi reached behind her to turn off the microphone, then leaned in close to Yi Qian’s ear.

“This one’s not for you, it has to be returned. But if you want one, I’ll get you your own later.”

Snapping out of her daze, Yi Qian seemed to finally remember who the card actually belonged to. With full confidence, she retorted,

“I. Have. My. Own.”

With that, she rolled across the bed, sprang up at the foot, and bolted out the door.

As she headed downstairs, she ran into a staff member coming up to call them for dinner. The person paused, staring at her flushed face in concern.

“Yi-laoshi, your face is so red are you sick, or is it just too hot?”

Yi Qian coughed lightly into her hand.

“It’s nothing, just a little cough. You can go up and get Ye-jingli now.”

The staff member nodded blankly without asking further questions.

As they reached the second-floor stair landing, a pungent, spicy aroma instantly assaulted their nostrils.

The living room now unexpectedly hosted a fully set hotpot table, the broth bubbling vigorously with steam rising in thick plumes. Yet despite this lively atmosphere, the tension around the table felt almost tangible.

Long Xiaoqin and Cai Yunyoo were engaged in animated conversation, while their managers mechanically dropped ingredients into the pot with expressionless faces.

The table was spacious enough for the group to sit around the camera setup, with two empty seats remaining on the right.

Yi Qian took the vacant seat beside Huang Xin. Seeing the other woman about to add a plate of mushrooms to the pot, she instinctively reached out and grasped Huang Xin’s wrist without hesitation.

A droplet of scalding broth splashed onto Yi Qian’s hand, but she didn’t let go, merely hissing softly at the sting.

“What? Don’t like them?” Huang Xin raised an eyebrow at her, speaking as if lecturing a child. “Being picky isn’t a good habit.”

Cai Yunyoo, who had been listening nearby, paused. Clearly irritated at having her flaws indirectly criticized through someone else on camera, she shot Huang Xin a cold glance and retorted bluntly, “Actually, having a mouth but choosing not to speak isn’t illegal. No one would mistake you for being mute.”

Yi Qian glanced between the two, released Huang Xin’s wrist, and shook her head in explanation. “It’s not that I don’t like them, I can’t eat them. Allergic. Hospital-visit level allergic.”

Huang Xin nodded in understanding and set the plate back down.

But Yi Qian wasn’t satisfied. She stood up, scanned the table to confirm there were no other mushroom-based dishes, then carried the plate to the kitchen before returning to her seat.

Just as she settled back in, Ye Shuyi came downstairs. After surveying the living room occupants, she walked over and took the seat beside He Tong.

With all guests present, Director Lu picked up his megaphone: “Everyone, please enjoy this dinner thoroughly. Barring any surprises, this will be your last proper dinner here.”

“?”

Chopsticks clattered as everyone looked up in confusion.

The director cleared his throat dramatically. “Earlier, staff searched your rooms for contraband including cash. You’ve probably guessed by now: starting today, for the duration of filming, no cast member may use mobile payments or bank cards. Every camera here will be monitoring you constantly, so don’t even think about breaking the rules.”

“All living expenses must now be obtained from production. We’ll play a game shortly to determine each pair’s starting funds. Additionally, tomorrow we’ll post various part-time job listings on that blackboard”, he pointed to a small board near the stairs labeled “Shared Hardship Work Chart,” currently blank,”where you can earn money to improve your living conditions.”

“One critical rule: violators will be fined fifty yuan per infraction. So I suggest everyone follow the rules conscientiously.”

He Tong asked curiously, “What kind of jobs? And how will payment work?”

Director Lu smiled: “For example, handing out flyers at intersections pays about ten yuan per hour.”

With a thud, the freshly cooked beef slice fell back into the pot. He Tong stared at the director in disbelief: “You call this improving our quality of life?”

Director Lu beamed with innocent warmth: “Still better than drinking the northwest wind, no?”

Cai Yunyoo sneered and directly mocked: “Such a stingy production team. I wonder if whoever booked me for this show was deliberately trying to mess with me.”

Huang Xin leisurely swirled her beef in the pot and calmly responded: “It’s not as shady as you think. I specifically chose this one.”

Cai Yunyoo: “…” Well, thank you very much then.

Huang Xin raised her cooked beef in a toast, faintly curling her lips: “You’re welcome.”

Cai Yunyoo: “…”

Yi Qian placed a large bunch of blanched cilantro into Ye Shuyi’s bowl, set down her chopsticks, crossed her arms, and lazily leaned back: “Don’t you have some little games planned? Let’s hear them, so I can see just how much you want to ‘improve our quality of life’.”

Her emphasized, syllable-by-syllable delivery dripped with sarcasm.

Completely oblivious to the mood, Director Lu produced a lie detector: “To help our guests better understand each other, that box contains fifty questions. Each of you will draw three to answer. Truthful answers earn 100 yuan, while lies deduct 20 for the first offense, 40 for the second… and so on.”

He Tong’s eyes rolled as he calculated, then exclaimed in shock: “If we keep lying, we could end up in debt?”

“Exactly,” the production team nodded without remorse. “You can always work it off later. Actually, my stinginess is precisely to motivate everyone to answer honestly for the money.”

The guests’ expressionless faces seemed to say: How convenient to justify your cheapness.

Long Xiaoqin asked softly: “What if we can’t pay it back?”

Director Lu smirked slyly: “We’ll rent giant billboards in city centers announcing your debt to the world, accompanied by your most embarrassing videos.”

Cai Yunyoo deadpanned: “With that kind of money, why not fund the show properly?”

Initially confident she had no embarrassing footage, Cai Yunyoo scoffed coldly at the production team after seeing their compilation: “Touché.” She then obediently placed her hand on the lie detector.

As Yi Qian knew, these show lie detectors couldn’t actually detect lies, they merely measured nervousness through pulse and heart rate to activate. Confident in her mental fortitude, she lounged on the sofa watching Cai Yunyoo get zapped with disdain. How dramatic could it be?

“What’s your weight?”

“40kg.”

Beep… The detector’s warning lights flashed red. Though initially dismissive, Cai Yunyoo jumped when the current hit.

Huang Xin couldn’t suppress a chuckle: “Little brat.”

Director Lu kindly reminded: “The question only passes when the detector shows green.”

Cai Yunyoo bit her lip and sat back down, casting a wary glance at the lie detector before her as she said, “45kg.”

Beep beep beep~ The lie detector sounded another warning, accompanied by the rapper’s scream: “Ahhhh! 48kg!!!! Ahhhhh!!!”

The red light continued to flash its warning. Cai Yunyoo jumped up, angrily spitting out a rap: “48.8kg!!! Damn this machine! Doesn’t it know a girl’s weight is supposed to be a secret?!”

Ding~ The green light finally came on.

Yi Qian watched the little machine thoughtfully. Were machines these days so advanced they could detect emotions over decimal points?

She suddenly didn’t want to participate in this meaningless game anymore. But Director Lu had already called her name in a teasing tone: “Teacher Yi, your turn.”

She lifted her head, scanning the crowd whose eyes were now all fixed on her.

No problem, she could handle the pressure.

She walked over and sat before the lie detector, calmly placing her hand inside with an expression of complete composure.

Director Lu reached into the box and randomly pulled out a question. The person who unfolded the slip of paper immediately had stars in their eyes, clearing their throat before reading: “First question: Have you ever had an ex?”

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