CHAPTER 43: CHAPTER FORTY-THREE: A SUITE VICTORY

Competition without prizes is like a birthday without cake. Pointless, mildly depressing, and guaranteed to make someone cry.

The director, to his credit, still possessed a flicker of conscience. Or rather, he was simply afraid of being chased down by the cast if he dared admit there were no prizes after making them hunt chickens in heels and designer clothes.

Even so, the director privately congratulated himself. A single glance at the flood of comments was proof enough. The audience was delighted, and chaos, as always, proved irresistible to watch.

Clapping his hands together, he beamed at the cast. "Alright! Since every great competition deserves a reward, let’s move on to the accommodation selection for the week!"

That got their attention.

The production assistant stepped forward and tapped a remote. A portable projection screen flickered to life beside him, bright enough to be visible even under daylight. "We have four types of rooms available," he announced. "Each with different conditions."’

Of course, there were going to be different conditions. The cast had mentally prepared for that much. What they hadn’t prepared for was just how wildly different those conditions were about to be.

The first slide clicked on.

A pristine, sunlit room appeared. Soft beige walls, polished wooden floors, and an ensuite bathroom that practically sparkled. A sleek air-conditioning unit sat above a full size bed, and a small balcony overlooked the garden.

Gasp rippled through the cast.

"This is Room Type A," the production assistant said. "Air-conditioning, private bathroom, full-size bed, proper lighting and a private balcony. Ideal for people who enjoy comfort."

[That’s basically the presidential suite???]

[This is what catching chickens like professionals gets you 😭]

[An Ning is so taking this.]

The slide changed.

Room Type B appeared, and morale dropped just a little.

"This one has a standing fan," the production assistant continued. "Shared bathroom down the hall. Single bed. Good ventilation. No balcony, but there is a window."

The projection zoomed in on the window.

It faced a tree.

A branch.

Another tree.

"Wonderful," Wu Shiyun muttered. "A prison cell with natural landscaping."

The slide flicked again.

Room Type C filled the screen, and the collective mood dipped another few degrees.

An old fashioned ceiling fan hung from the center of the room, rotating just slowly enough to count the blades. The bed was a narrow single, the kind found in dormitories that made you question your life choices. A single lightbulb dangled overhead.

"This is Room Type C," the production assistant announced. "No air-conditioning. Ceiling fan only. Shared bathroom. Limited storage space. Lighting...functional."

[Not the sad ceiling fan 😭]

[This room is giving "I didn’t study but I still hope to pass" energy]

[Functional lighting = depression lightbulb 💀]

Shen Xiyu’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly, his discomfort showing. If this was Room Type C, he didn’t want to think about what Room Type D might look like.

Wu Shiyun sniffed. "This room looks like it disapproves of my lifestyle."

"It could be worse," Zhao Guangyao said tentatively.

She stepped farther away from him, "Spare me the optimism."

He shut his mouth. Probably for the best.

The projection flicked to the final slide.

Room Type D appeared on screen, and the entire cast fell silent.

It was...a room in the most technical sense.

A rickety metal bed frame sat in the corner with a thin mattress that looked like it survived several wars. A box fan rested on the floor, pointed vaguely toward the bed as if even it had given up. The lighting came from a single bulb hanging crookedly from the ceiling, casting a faint yellow glow that made the room looked perpetually tired.

There was no desk.

No wardrobe.

And absolutely no hint of decoration.

"This," the production assistant said with a perfectly neutral expression, "is Room Type D. No air-conditioning. No fan except the portable one provided. Shared bathroom. Minimal furnishings. Natural ventilation through the window."

The projection zoomed in on the "window."

Shen Xiyu looked personally offended by the very existence of Room Type D.

Jiang Shuyue’s smile froze. "This...you’ve got to be kidding."

The assistant added helpfully, "Room Type D is challenging. Ideal for participants who enjoy simplicity."

Wu Shiyun snorted. "That’s not simplicity. That’s survival mode."

Zhao Guangyao whispered, "At least it has a bed?"

She gave him a cold look. He stopped breathing.

*****

The room selection went without a hitch and, to absolutely no one’s surprise, the first pick went to An Ning and Chen Yiming.

Of course it did.

If competence were currency, the two of them had just purchased the entire villa.

An Ning didn’t gloat, but the faint, composed curve of her lips as she selected Room Type A said enough.

[Our queen claiming her well-earned comfort 💕]

[Chen Yiming really said: professionalism extends to room choices.]

[They look so peaceful it’s illegal.]

Second pick naturally went to Sun Qiaolian and Zhou Zhenyu.

Sun Qiaolian stepped forward with a demure smile, her fingers brushing the projection panel as though selecting a room required delicate artistry.

"I think..." she murmured, "Room Type B will be perfect for us."

She turned toward Zhou Zhenyu with a grateful tilt of her head.

"Zhenyu did so much during the challenge. It’s only right we choose a comfortable room because of his hard work."

It wasn’t a compliment.

It was a soft, elegant way of choosing Room B entirely for herself while making it sound like she was honouring him. And of course, she tied his name to hers in front of every camera.

A classic Sun Qiaolian move.

[She’s so gracious omg 😭]

[She chose this so Zhenyu can rest better!!! Such an angel 😭✨]

[She said "we" but that choice was 200% hers 💀]

The projection chimed as Room Type B flashed "Selected."

Sun Qiaolian clasped her hands, her smile trembling just slightly, the perfect touch of humility. "I only hope I can improve enough to help him next time."

The cameras adored her for it.

From the side, An Ning observed quietly.

Zhou Zhenyu didn’t say much. He didn’t beam, he didn’t blush, and he certainly didn’t bask in the attention Sun Qiaolian was directing his way.

But when she said she chose the room so he could "rest better," there was the slightest shift at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but close enough to count.

A soft, involuntary reaction.

An Ning sighed inwardly. Give it to Sun Qiaolian. As the story’s original heroine, she certainly had her charms—especially when it came to winning a man’s goodwill with just a few well-placed words.

Charm could win hearts, but unfortunately for the rest, it couldn’t win them a better room.

The selection continued.