An episode of *Friday Morning* lasted about eighty minutes. Since it was a web variety show and didn't have to worry about a following program's time slot, some episodes even ran over ninety minutes. The first few minutes consisted of advertisements and street interviews. Zhang Jin’an glanced at the bullet comments; apparently, these street interviews changed every episode, and they would become increasingly "unhinged" as the series progressed.
The comments piqued Zhang Jin’an’s curiosity about just how unhinged they could get.
According to the viewer descriptions, the first episode served as an introduction to each guest. Similar to *I Live Alone*, it filmed a day in their lives during their time off. However, this was more of a pilot episode rather than the standard format. This particular episode was over a hundred minutes long; on average, each of the five guests received about twenty minutes of screen time. Zhang Jin’an also learned from the comments that, just as "System-Limited Reunion" had said, while the first episode was recorded individually indoors, subsequent episodes were mostly outdoor activities. The introductory segment would then be reduced to a single segment of about ten to fifteen minutes. Since only one guest was featured per episode, there was no risk of the introduction dragging on and cutting into other segments.
Zhang Jin’an also noticed that beneath each episode, the official account provided individual "cuts" for each guest. Each video was about forty minutes long and mostly consisted of footage that hadn't made it into the main episode.
Zhang Jin’an nodded in approval. "That’s a smart move. It doesn't offend anyone, and they don't have to worry about fans complaining about their idols' screen time being cut due to length constraints."
As the background music swelled, the first guest finally made his entrance. Just as the camera lens was shifting from blurry to clear, Zhang Jin’an hit pause, freezing the image on a blurred silhouette.
Zhang Jin’an turned his head to look behind him, then let out a speechless laugh. No wonder he felt a chill down his spine while watching; he hadn't actually gotten into bed yet. He had been sitting on the edge of the mattress in his pajamas for five minutes.
After mocking himself internally, he stood up and pulled a foldable bed-desk from behind his computer desk, setting it up on his large bed. Then, he grabbed his iPad from the nightstand where it was charging, turned it on, and tossed it onto his pillow.
Once these preparations were done, Zhang Jin’an poured a glass of water and placed it on the nightstand before finally burrowing into the covers.
He picked up the glass, took a sip of plain water, pulled his glasses from the drawer and put them on, then propped the iPad onto the desk. After adjusting the height, Zhang Jin’an took one last look around the bedroom to ensure everything was ready. Satisfied, he nodded and turned off the lights.
Zhang Jin’an really liked this light fixture. He had bought it online last year. His previous light had a blueish tint that made his skin look sickly and sallow. Originally, Zhang Jin’an hadn't cared—after all, he could play games in the dark, so who cared about the lighting? But during a specific event, a team of stylists had come to his house to get him ready. The moment the lead stylist turned on that light, she told him it had to go. She even threatened to give him a "reggae" makeover next time if he didn't change it. Only then did Zhang Jin’an swap the bulbs.
The current light was affordable—only a bit over a hundred yuan—and even came with professional installation. It was a great deal, so Zhang Jin’an had bought five in one go, installing them in the other bedrooms and every room he could. Now, except for the bright white light in the hallway, the rest of the house was bathed in this soft, warm yellow glow.
This was what it meant to know how to live—and how to be frugal.
Zhang Jin’an couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. If the show ever interviewed him about his lifestyle, he would definitely have to give a detailed account of this.
"It’s been a while since I’ve watched something like this," Zhang Jin’an muttered, pulling the duvet up. It felt like he was back in the early days of his career. During those first two years, when he stayed up late reading scripts and studying scenes, this was his standard setup: plain water and an iPad. If he had a notebook and a pen, the resemblance would be perfect.
In recent years, he usually read scripts in his study. Because his schedule was so tight, being in bed meant every second was reserved for sleep. It was only during this recent gap between his drama and the variety show that he had some downtime to browse the internet every day. In a few days, he would be busy again, so watching a variety show like this was a rare treat.
The video resumed. The first guest’s face finally appeared—a man named Jiu Chang. He was a well-known internet blogger, a tall, thin young man wearing glasses.
Judging by the bullet comments, this blogger was quite popular. As soon as he appeared, the screen filled with messages: *“Jiu Chang, I’m here!” “Supporting Jiu-Gui’s first variety show!” “Is this Jiu-Gui? Handsome, who are you?”*
While the video played, Zhang Jin’an immediately searched the man's name on his iPad. He planned to record everyone’s details in his notes so he wouldn't make any mistakes or say the wrong thing during filming.
However, Zhang Jin’an didn't search for a wiki page; he went straight to Weibo.
He typed "Jiu Chang," and the related search "@-fyi Jiu Chang" immediately popped up. Zhang Jin’an skipped the user profile and clicked on the Super Topic instead.
To most people, checking a formal biography might seem faster and more convenient, but Zhang Jin’an would argue those people didn't understand modern trends. In his view, fans were more accurate than any encyclopedia because they tracked a celebrity’s every move and provided real-time updates.
"A science-popularization blogger in the comedy section..." Zhang Jin’an noted down useful information as he browsed.
Before the man had even spoken more than a few sentences, Zhang Jin’an had already copy-pasted nearly four hundred words of notes.
Only after finishing his notes did he continue watching. The video showed Jiu Chang going out to gather material, followed by a post-segment interview: *“Q: Before you became famous, back when you were just a small self-media creator, was it financially difficult?”*
Jiu Chang nodded at the camera. "I quit my original job. To be honest, when I was just starting out, my financial situation was the worst it’s been in years. I made dozens of videos, and not a single one gained traction. But I think everyone starting out is in the same boat. As long as you don't regret it and keep persevering, it’ll be okay..."
Zhang Jin’an raised an eyebrow, typing thoughtfully.
The segment continued with the process of Jiu Chang recording a video, followed by a few more questions, and then the day ended. Next came the second guest.
Zhang Jin’an used the same method to research every guest. As he watched, he found himself genuinely drawn in.
Regardless of who the person was or how famous they were, everyone in the video knew how to find joy for themselves. It was just as the editors noted: *“Everyone has their own 'little certain happiness.' You might say they’re struggling, but as long as they’re smiling and happy, that’s what matters.”*
It was no wonder the show had such a good reputation. The editing didn't rely on forced laughter or putting one person down to lift another up. The music was well-chosen, making it the perfect "meal-time show."
By the time the fourth person’s segment began, Zhang Jin’an drew two horizontal lines under the word "Past" in his notes.
Just as he suspected. No matter who the guest was or how the other questions changed, one question remained constant or very similar: asking the guest about their life in the past.
It made sense. Contrast creates a story. The question wasn't meant to see who was more pitiful; it was to highlight how everyone had moved on from their past, overcome difficulties, and achieved the better life they had now.
However, this question was a bit tricky for Zhang Jin’an. If he were asked, what should he say? He had been in the entertainment industry for so many years, and there were countless reports digging into his family background, but nine out of ten were fake. Some claimed his parents were PhDs or professors; if they were really that impressive, he would have just changed careers long ago.
He couldn't be too flashy, but he couldn't outright lie either.
Zhang Jin’an thought for a moment and wrote in his notes: *"Parents are ordinary residents nearing retirement, involved in the seafood trade. During university, he took on the family responsibilities and began his path as an actor."*
Perfect. Simple, grounded, and it had that "rural transformation" trailer vibe. Plus, it wasn't exactly a lie. His parents really were nearing retirement, and they really were in the seafood business—he just hadn't specified the exact scale of the company. It didn't count as lying.
Zhang Jin’an nodded in satisfaction and continued watching. Before he knew it, the segment for the fourth guest—the only host, Fei Yong—was coming to an end. Night fell on screen, the music faded, and finally, the screen went black.
In those few seconds of darkness, the previously steady stream of bullet comments suddenly exploded.
*— Handsome guy alert ahead! Handsome guy alert!*
*— Re-posting this comment for my seventh re-watch!!!*
*— This is where my love began.*
*— Siyang’s 'Mom' is here to see you!*
*— Jiang Siyang! Jiang Siyang!*
Seeing the comments practically flying off the screen, Zhang Jin’an immediately knew who was about to appear. He checked the progress bar; there were about twenty minutes left.
"Not bad at all, kid," Zhang Jin’an remarked, casually adjusting his posture and closing the iPad.
When it came to Jiang Siyang, he was confident he could commit everything to memory.
Aside from "Jiang Siyang," the phrase "bare face" took up half the screen. The logic was simple: since the previous guests had all appeared without makeup, it meant the upcoming Jiang Siyang would certainly be bare-faced as well.
Although Zhang Jin’an could already imagine what Jiang Siyang looked like without makeup—for someone like him, makeup was redundant and wouldn't change much—seeing the comments obsessing over his "bare face" piqued his curiosity.
Zhang Jin’an stared intently at the screen as it slowly brightened. Once the image cleared, there was no suspense: it was Jiang Siyang sitting in a chair for his interview.
Jiang Siyang was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and a white cap. His eyelashes were long and thick, and his eyeliner—or lack thereof—looked the same as always. Although his flawless skin made the "bare face" claim hard to believe, a tiny pimple on the tip of his nose and slight dark circles under his eyes proved that he was indeed without makeup.
Jiang Siyang took off his hat and bowed to the camera, then straightened up and put the hat back on. His voice sounded much more youthful than it did now, but it still held that same slow, gentle, and refined tone: "Hello everyone, I am Jiang Siyang."
"Nice. Exactly as I thought," Zhang Jin’an nodded. There really wasn't much of a difference.
However, the bullet comments were nowhere near as calm as Zhang Jin’an. Even with his transparency set to 20%, the comments still flooded the screen from top to bottom.
*— AHHHHH, ethereal bare face!*
*— This younger brother is too good-looking! Someone give me his details, quick!*
*— This is where my love began, ahhhhh!*
*— I’m in love, oh my god.*
*— This is bare-faced?? He’s too beautiful.*
*— The legendary viral GIF is coming! Everyone’s first love, Jiang Siyang!*
*— Here because of the hype.*
*— Here because of the hype +1.*
Zhang Jin’an noticed the phrase "here because of the hype" and paused the video. He searched "Jiang Siyang bare face" on his iPad and immediately found a highly-commented Weibo post from a fan-account collector last year. Zhang Jin’an wasn't familiar with the blogger, but someone he followed had shared her posts before, so he had a vague impression. She was a blogger who specialized in collecting photos, and her bio read: "Anyone handsome is my bias."
The post related to Jiang Siyang was an interactive one that said: *"Post a picture of a 'First Love Face' celebrity who stunned you."*
The very first top comment was a screenshot of Jiang Siyang from this interview.
*— I saw this by chance while watching a variety show one day, and I literally fell in love on the spot. This kid Siyang’s face is just too much, so tender. He can even pull off the bare-faced look. I look at this every day for appreciation; he’s the one I fantasize about having a campus romance with.*
"So that’s what it was." Zhang Jin’an scrolled down. He saw several names he recognized under the post, including Su Zhiyang and Gu Yirou.
Those two were indeed good-looking, both fitting the "God/Goddess" aesthetic.
As Zhang Jin’an was browsing, he suddenly saw a comment related to himself under Su Zhiyang’s photo.
*— A Su Zhiyang fan asks: Why doesn't our 'Big Brother' have a mention? Hahaha, Big Brother is clearly very handsome too.*
*— Big Brother has a 'Rich Young Master Face' at first glance. Whose first love is a rich young master?*
*— True. I hope next time there’s a post for 'Celebrity you most want to be dumped by with a 5-million-yuan check to the face.' Big Brother must be the top comment!*
Zhang Jin’an: "?"
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
---|---|---
星期五的早晨 | Friday Morning | The variety show Zhang Jin’an is joining.
九常 | Jiu Chang | A popular internet blogger/guest on the show.
费咏 | Fei Yong | A host/guest on the show.
素颜 | Bare face / No makeup | Refers to appearing without cosmetics.
初恋脸 | First Love Face | A term for someone with a pure, innocent, and heart-fluttering look.
富家公子脸 | Rich Young Master Face | A term for someone who looks wealthy, noble, or elite.
大哥 | Dage / Big Brother | Zhang Jin’an’s nickname among his fans.
