The audience at the premiere was very friendly, and the questions weren't pointed at all. Coupled with the fact that the actors on stage were all great at playing along with jokes, the entire event went smoothly and was quite entertaining.
Zhang Jin’an, in particular, was in his element. Almost every time a question was directed at him, someone in the crowd would chime in, and he handled it like a fish in water. He could catch whatever the audience threw at him, and soon enough, the stage and the floor were in a lively back-and-forth.
During the interview, the topic shifted to the actors' lives behind the scenes. Gu Yirou started things off, mentioning how she liked to wander around the filming locations alone. Her assistant always had to call her to get her to come back, making her feel like a lost child. After she finished, the others shared their own stories. When it was Zhang Jin’an’s turn, the host said, "No need to say it. Our Big Brother looks like the type who just stays in his room surfing the web."
Zhang Jin’an shook his head, his expression turning serious. "No, no, no. I think everyone has a bit of a misunderstanding about me."
"Oh? What kind of misunderstanding?" the host asked, playing along.
Such a solemn look was rare for Zhang Jin’an. The audience couldn't help but stare intently at him on the screen, eager to hear what he had to say.
He spoke up: "The internet says I love being online. I’d like to clarify right here—actually, I don’t really like the internet, and I don’t play games often. My time online is purely forced upon me by the hardships of life..."
The audience: "..."
"Here he goes again, here he goes again," Gu Yirou said into her microphone, shaking her head as she stood beside him.
The audience immediately caught on and burst into laughter.
The host, a true professional, asked with a straight face, "Then what does Big Brother like to do when he's with the crew?"
Ignoring Gu Yirou’s jab and the laughter from the seats, Zhang Jin’an tapped his chin with a finger, looking for all the world as if he were truly reminiscing. "Hmm... I go mountain climbing alone. I walk so fast that Qiang-ge can’t even keep up with me."
Li Qiang, backstage: ? When did this happen? How come he didn't know?
Didn't this guy head straight back to the hotel after filming every day and not even open his curtains?
Li Qiang had been communicating with Xiao Zhou about a variety show, but upon hearing this, he put down his phone and pricked up his ears to listen further.
Zhang Jin’an had no idea Li Qiang would care, so he continued spinning his yarn. "It was a pretty good day. I got up very early that day, so early that none of you were even awake yet..."
Because Zhang Jin’an’s description of the hike was so vivid, complete with times and locations, Li Qiang actually started to doubt himself. He stood there rubbing his temples, trying desperately to remember.
However, this gesture was spotted by a student working as a staff member. The student was a kind-hearted soul; thinking Li Qiang had a headache, he went into the teachers' office and found a box of Susu Jiuxin Pills. By the time he came out, Li Qiang had just realized the truth—it never happened; Zhang Jin’an was just making it up. His furrowed brows had finally relaxed when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
Li Qiang saw a young man he didn't recognize. Before he could ask who it was, the other person shoved the medicine into his hand without a word. Then, the student added a thoughtful reminder: "You should take care of yourself at your age. This kind of illness is hard to treat once you're old."
After saying that, the student ran off immediately, seemingly afraid Li Qiang would remember his face.
Li Qiang was left standing there. He was dazed, and he felt somewhat offended. "Old?"
He was old?!
The word "old" was a critical hit that lingered in Li Qiang’s mind. He was so busy doubting himself that by the time the premiere ended and he spoke to Xiao Zhou again, he was noticeably quieter.
Sitting in a chair in the lounge, Li Qiang said absentmindedly, "So, it's settled then?"
Xiao Zhou: "Yep! they got back to us very quickly. It’s pretty much a done deal."
Li Qiang: "Good..."
Xiao Zhou: "Qiang-ge, what’s wrong? You seem a bit off."
Li Qiang sighed. "Xiao Zhou, let me tell you, even after I retire, you must never forget to work hard. Don't go getting crooked ideas like some people, you hear me?"
Xiao Zhou was baffled. Where was this coming from? If he remembered correctly, Li Qiang was still twenty years away from retirement.
Xiao Zhou said cautiously, "? The... the topic got heavy all of a sudden?"
Li Qiang suddenly turned stern. "Just say it! Do you understand?!"
Xiao Zhou nodded repeatedly. "U-understood..."
*Understood my foot,* Xiao Zhou thought. He was definitely going to mention this to Zhang Jin’an later.
Zhang Jin’an, who was thriving on stage, had no idea what was happening behind the scenes. If he had known, he wouldn't have made up the hiking story; he would have just told everyone about Li Qiang’s strange encounter.
Everyone could tell Zhang Jin’an was making up the hiking bit—even he knew it. It was just for the sake of a joke. So, as soon as he finished, eighty percent of the audience let out a collective, rhythmic "Ehhh—" that didn't stop for a while. The actors on stage lowered their heads, covering their mouths to stifle their laughter.
"So, I really didn't go online while I was with the crew. I love nature. Protecting nature is everyone's responsibility," Zhang Jin’an said with great sincerity.
"Um, Teacher Zhang, let me ask you something," Gu Yirou raised her hand, asking in a very innocent tone. "If you don't go online, then who was the person playing games with us online these past few months?"
Without missing a beat, Zhang Jin’an replied, "A computer bot..."
"You big jerk!" someone in the audience immediately shouted.
The timing of the shout was perfect, making everyone laugh. Zhang Jin’an finally couldn't hold it in either. He laughed and pointed toward the source of the voice. "Who said that? Please leave the group chat voluntarily."
Zhang Jin’an’s back-and-forth kept the atmosphere excellent, and even the director's speech afterward was quite fun. But except for the parts involving him, Zhang Jin’an was relatively quiet, standing silently to the side or occasionally flashing a peace sign and a smile at fans taking photos of him.
The next time he spoke was for the final exit. After Zhang Jin’an gave a closing statement thanking everyone, the premiere officially ended, and everyone began leaving the stage.
As Zhang Jin’an walked down the steps, he looked around but didn't see Li Qiang. Wondering where his manager had gone, he opened WeChat to send a message. Gu Yirou walked over, draped in a coat her manager had given her. "Teacher Zhang, you were quiet today. Have you finally started being careful after a few years in the industry, afraid that the more you say, the more mistakes you'll make?"
Zhang Jin’an shook his head while typing. "Not really. I just didn't want to hog the mic. If they don't cue me, why should I talk? Staying quiet gives the newcomers space. It’s a win-win."
"True. You're one of the most eloquent people I know; you don't seem like the type to be afraid of talking too much," Gu Yirou agreed.
Speaking of hogging the mic, Zhang Jin’an remembered a trending topic he’d seen earlier. He looked up at Gu Yirou. "Teacher Gu, did you see that trending topic from before?"
Gu Yirou understood instantly. "Are you talking about those hosts? The ones who got mocked by the whole internet for talking over people and ended up trending."
That topic had been around for a while. A netizen had edited several hosting clips together under the title *Embarrassing Hosting Moments*, and it had a high view count.
Zhang Jin’an had seen it too. Some of the hosts just said the wrong things, which was funny in an awkward way, but a few were suffocatingly cringeworthy. One male and one female host stood out in particular; they loved to interrupt.
Zhang Jin’an nodded. "I’ve never been on their shows, so I’m not sure. It could be the fault of the editing..."
"It wasn't the editing," Gu Yirou denied decisively. As she spoke more, her Northeastern accent began to slip out. "I was on a show with one of them once. Besides her, there was a veteran host who was actually very good at speaking. But this one... she really knew how to steal the spotlight. There was a newcomer with me who didn't talk much to begin with. She finally managed to set up a couple of jokes, only for that host to snatch them away. That host was constantly talking over the other hosts too. I felt uncomfortable just watching her. I never contacted her again after the show. I have to say, that production crew was something else—I suspect they were setting her up because they didn't edit out any of her interruptions. I think I even appeared in that video for a few seconds."
Zhang Jin’an had originally thought the video might have been faked by anti-fans, but hearing it from a witness made him even more confused. "Then I don't get it. Actors and idol groups all know not to interrupt because they'll get mocked for it. How do those hosts not know?"
"Who knows? Let me tell you, I checked the comment links later. After being mocked by the whole internet, those hosts went on other variety shows and said they were very optimistic and didn't mind the criticism. Then they talked about how tired they were and started crying. After they finished crying, they went right back to interrupting people on their shows." Gu Yirou made a face of pure incomprehension and threw up her hands. "That whole routine just left me speechless."
Zhang Jin’an was amused. "They probably think that crying counts as admitting they're wrong, and admitting they're wrong means they should be unconditionally forgiven. If crying worked that well, I’d just make a living by crying from now on."
Gu Yirou laughed too. "You could! Doesn't Weibo have a paid Q&A feature now? You could just write a title like: *Shocking! Why is the Film Emperor weeping at midnight? Pay one yuan to unlock the answer.* Then, once netizens have chipped in enough to reach 800,000 yuan, you reveal the answer."
Zhang Jin’an: "The answer is that my internet went out."
Gu Yirou: "Ha, never heard of that one."
"You two should just form a crosstalk duo." A weary male voice suddenly came from behind them, making Gu Yirou jump. She stumbled back a few steps, nearly stepping on the man's shoes.
Gu Yirou patted her chest and looked. "Ah! Qiang-ge?"
Zhang Jin’an turned around and saw it was indeed Li Qiang. He was a bit surprised. "Qiang-ge, why do you look so much older all of a sudden?"
Li Qiang was carrying a large bag in one hand, looking like he’d finished packing everything. His face was paler than when he’d arrived, his eyes were
