TRYMBPIETM 42: Mirror, Night, Snow peak (5)

The live-stream viewers all rolled their eyes.

The way this was phrased, it was as if only Xue Jinshi knew what an artist was supposed to do.

In terms of status, weren’t Zhong Lingshu and Tang Qichen ranked higher than Xue Jinshi?

And in terms of positioning, wasn’t Xu Xinxin also an idol?

So why didn’t they bring that many skincare products?

The viewers were not the type to go easy on Xue Jinshi’s fans.

【Are we talking about professional standards? No, we’re talking about whether it’s appropriate for the situation!】

【Exactly. He knew this was a travel variety show, and the director enjoys making things difficult. Did XJS not consider whether bringing all that stuff was suitable?】

【Wow, I just checked the screenshots, and honestly, Xue Jinshi’s setup is more refined than some guests on dating shows.】

【Did XJS not do his homework beforehand?】

【I don’t get it. People on dating shows bring lots of products because they want to look good for dates. But this guy? He’s on a travel show and still insists on looking this polished—what, is he planning to hold a concert along the way?】

【Jinwu fans, shut up for a second. Ask yourselves this: Why don’t the other guests bring that many skincare products? Do they not need skincare?】

【Honestly, XJS doesn’t seem like a good fit for Scenery Along The Way. He’d probably be better off on a singing and dancing variety show.】

【Agreed. XJS’s skills in singing and dancing are solid. He did really well on Best Idol and I’m a Superstar.】

Xue Jinshi’s fanbase, the Jinwu (Golden crows) was massive and highly combative, standing out even among idol fans.

But as the saying goes, two fists can’t fight four hands. No single fanbase could take on the broader audience.

Unable to outargue the sheer number of viewers, and seeing some people acknowledge their idol’s stage presence, the Jinwu fans started to waver.

They began to feel that it was the company’s fault for giving their idol the wrong variety show.

Within minutes, the official Weibo of Ding Sheng Entertainment and Xue Jinshi’s manager’s profile were flooded with complaints.

Even though Xue Jinshi had never marketed himself as a delicate, fairy-like idol, he was still an idol.

To his fans, basic self-care and an appropriate level of makeup were part of his professional standards. Getting criticized for bringing skincare products felt completely unreasonable to them.

Since neither Xue Jinshi nor the production team was at fault, the blame naturally fell on the manager who selected the show for him.

His manager had been keeping an eye on the livestream, worried that Xue Jinshi might say something wrong.

Seeing Xue Jinshi’s actions and the fan reaction, the manager was so furious he practically ascended to enlightenment on the spot.

He already knew that Xue Jinshi’s fans, due to Ding Sheng Entertainment’s poor fan management, were not the brightest.

But did Xue Jinshi himself not have a brain either?

Or was it that the moment anything involved Chi Qingning, Xue Jinshi’s brain just stopped working?

The manager was so frustrated that he slammed his desk.

His artist was practically throwing himself at someone, but did Chi Qingning look like he cared at all?

Just as the manager suspected, Xue Jinshi had been trying to show how close he was to Chi Qingning ever since the livestream started.

But Chi Qingning’s responses had been nothing but lukewarm.

And just now, when Chi Qingning had said, “Now do you see that my second brother was doing this for my own good?”—that had really hurt.

Xue Jinshi clenched his fists, staring silently at Chi Qingning with dark, unreadable eyes.

At first, when Chi Qingning had said, “It’s not his fault,” Xue Jinshi truly thought Chi Qingning was about to speak up for him.

It was just like that day—the day someone had spiked his water.

That day, when Chi Qingning had stepped in front of him with unwavering determination, Xue Jinshi had been deeply moved.

Maybe they had their differences, but when it truly mattered, Xue Jinshi believed Chi Qingning would always be on his side.

Without Chi Qingning, he wouldn’t even be able to sing anymore.

He was grateful to Chi Qingning. He trusted Chi Qingning.

That moment—Chi Qingning standing in front of him, resolute and fearless—had become his source of strength in times of exhaustion and despair.

But when Chi Qingning turned the question back on him just now, Xue Jinshi was truly at a loss.

He was standing up for Chi Qingning.

So why was Chi Qingning rejecting his help yet again?

Xue Jinshi’s face was still pale. He stared intently into Chi Qingning’s eyes, searching for an answer.

Chi Qingning met his gaze briefly before looking away as if nothing had happened.

Almost no one outside of the Chi family knew what had transpired just days before.

The day after Chi Qingzhou visited the hospital to see the Chi family, Chi Shuhong had another incident—his magical power drained by nearly half.

No one knew what he had seen, but he had been utterly terrified, screaming about “punishment” and “sacrifices” in a panicked, incoherent state.

The Chi family thought he was going to lose his mind.

But then, three days later, Chi Shuhong suddenly calmed down.

He found himself a wheelchair, snuck out of the hospital, and went straight to a well-known, temple—where he managed to stay.

From that day on, Chi Shuhong’s cultivation had stagnated again.

But his mind was stable.

He was no longer afraid.

And, more importantly, he had become completely obedient.

Chi Qingning didn’t know what had happened exactly, but it was enough to change his attitude toward Chi Qingzhou.

He was just an ordinary person.

And as someone with a perfectly functioning brain, he had no intention of antagonizing someone like Chi Qingzhou, who didn’t seem human at all.

His evasiveness only deepened Xue Jinshi’s disappointment.

Still staring at his suitcase, Xue Jinshi clenched his jaw stubbornly, refusing to hand it over to the production team.

If the suitcase had rolling wheels, carrying it wouldn’t be this exhausting.

But before filming Scenery Along the Way, the production team had issued standardized luggage to all guests.

Aside from size variations, every suitcase was exactly the same—

After all, they were new releases from the show’s sponsor.

Expecting them to come with rolling wheels would have been too much to ask.

But to this day, Xue Jinshi still didn’t understand—

Why did the production team choose to partner with this particular luggage brand?

This was a travel show.

Even if they had to promote a sponsor’s product, forcing all the guests to use hand-carry suitcases felt absurdly impractical.

Were they intentionally making things harder?

But at this point, he had no choice.

But at this point, there was nothing he could do.

He had already insisted that these were just everyday necessities—if he turned around and threw some of them out now, wouldn’t that be slapping himself in the face?

Xu Jinshi cared about his pride. He had already spoken so firmly—no matter what, even if he had to grit his teeth, he had to stick to it.

The other guests and the audience were once again speechless. The production team respected all the guests’ choices, and Lu Man gestured for everyone to continue moving forward.

The guests picked up their luggage and resumed their journey to the destination.

Xu Jinshi zipped up his suitcase, lifted it, and walked forward.

He refused the other guests’ offers to help, carrying his suitcase by hand the entire way. Because of this, the group ended up spending an extra forty minutes before they finally reached a fork in the road outside Yuexi Ridge.

Just when they were about to succeed, he caused yet another problem.

Maybe he was too exhausted, or maybe the small paths around Yuexi Ridge were just that tricky to walk on. On the way to the station, he stepped on an unstable spot and almost fell into a roadside drainage ditch.

Fortunately, Chi Qingzhou reacted quickly and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him back just in time to prevent any injuries.

Still shaken, Xu Jinshi sat down hard on his suitcase, staring blankly ahead, breathing heavily out of sheer instinct.

His mind felt sluggish, and he hadn’t even registered that Chi Qingzhou had saved him—he was just sitting there, processing his fear.

Shen Wenxing had already been frustrated with Xu Jinshi slowing them down, and now, seeing him get rescued without even offering a word of thanks, he let out a silent sneer.

Glancing at Chi Qingzhou in the distance, Shen Wenxing noticed that his expression remained calm, as if he had just done something trivial. It was clear he didn’t care whether Xu Jinshi thanked him or not.

For some reason, Shen Wenxing found Chi Qingzhou’s composure rather admirable—it showed a kind of magnanimity that expected nothing in return.

The contrast only made Shen Wenxing even more impatient with Xu Jinshi.

He put his own suitcase down by the roadside and sat on it.

“Mr. Xu,” he said, eyeing Xu Jinshi with an odd expression and a slight smile, “your stamina doesn’t seem too great. You really should work on your physical fitness.”

Xu Jinshi stiffened, then lifted his chin and retorted, “No need for you to worry, Mr. Shen. My stamina is perfectly fine—this was just an accident.”

Shen Wenxing: “Oh, if you say so.”

The two locked eyes, their expressions carrying a mutual sense of disdain.

Just as Xu Jinshi was about to say something else, Liang Ji sensed the growing tension and quickly jumped in to change the topic.

“Mr. Shen, you’re in pretty great shape yourself. Have you trained professionally before?”

Shen Wenxing turned back with a reserved smile. “I train regularly with my cousin as part of our morning exercises, so I suppose I’m fairly diligent about it.”

Xu Xinxin, now also sitting down to rest, asked curiously, “Your cousin? Morning exercises?”

Shen Wenxing nodded. “Yes, my cousin, ShenWenxu, is a Daoist priest. He even has an official Daoist certification.”

His eyes lit up slightly. “He’s been gifted in this field since he was young. Besides his Daoist studies, he also trains in martial arts. Whenever I have free time, I join him for runs, sparring, and other exercises…”

Shen Wenxing spoke animatedly about his cousin, Shen Wenshu. Some of the audience members who weren’t familiar with him found this rather surprising, but his fans were already used to it.

【Here we go again, the usual ‘praising my cousin’ segment.】

【Our dear Xingxing is great, but I have to admit, his habit of hyping up his cousin at every opportunity is a bit much. Apologies from us Xing fans in advance!】

Even newer fans quickly learned that if you followed Shen Wenxing for more than a week, you’d realize just how much he loved talking about his cousin.

His agency had tried to curb this habit multiple times, but since he refused to stop, they eventually gave up. Instead, they simply acknowledged it and even added “little brother enthusiast” to his official persona.

His fans joked that while other aspects of his public image might waver, his devotion to his cousin was absolutely unwavering.

True to his reputation, Shen Wenxing, once given an opening by Liang Ji, began passionately singing his cousin Shen Wenxu’s praises—how talented, diligent, and disciplined he was. He even subtly hinted that during the last season of Scenery Along the Way, when the crew got into trouble, his cousin had been part of the rescue team.

Shen Wenxing then added proudly that Shen Wenshu was considered a young genius in the Daoist community, praised by every member of the Xuanxu Sect.

He strongly suspected that his cousin had played a major role in that rescue operation.

Xu Jinshi only half-listened, while the other guests, who did understand, responded with awkward yet polite smiles.

The atmosphere grew a little tense.

Not receiving any enthusiastic responses, Shen Wenxing’s voice gradually faded, and his expression slowly dimmed.

Xu Jinshi let out a soft scoff and turned his head away.

Standing on the higher part of the slope, Chi Qingzhou silently observed everyone’s reactions.

He tapped the tip of his shoe against his shadow, prompting Xing Shuangzhan to sigh and release a wave of ghostly energy.

“What is it?”

Chi Qingzhou nodded toward Shen Wenxing. “The name ‘ShenWenxu’ sounds familiar.”

Xing Shuangzhan let out a hum. “He’s a member of the Xuanxu Sect, same generation as you.”

Chi Qingzhou’s expression cleared slightly.

“No wonder the name rang a bell. If I remember correctly, didn’t I see him once outside the ancient tomb on Jingming Mountain?”

Xing Shuangzhan sighed. “So you summoned me just to ask about someone else?”

Chi Qingzhou turned to glance at him, smiling. “That just means Brother Su is all-knowing in my eyes.”

Xing Shuangzhan stared at him for a moment, then let out a low chuckle.

Fine, he’d accept this sugar-coated compliment.

“Yes, you’ve met him before,” Xing Shuangzhan pinched his fingertips and replied, “When you joined the archaeological team, he and his master were nearby.”

Following this cue, Chi Qingzhou recalled the memory—it seemed to have happened during his junior year in college.

He remembered that this Shen Wenxu had a decent character.

At the time, someone from the archaeological team had temporarily left to handle a personal matter but ended up getting lost in the forest. It was Shen Wenxu who escorted them back.

Later, that student forgot what had happened but vaguely remembered being rescued.

Chi Qingzhou paused.

His own memories from that time were also hazy.

Was it because of the plan three years ago?

Xing Shuangzhan didn’t respond. He simply pressed his fingers against Chi Qingzhou’s cheek, his eyes flashing with an unreadable light.

“Don’t daydream too long, you’re still filming. I’m heading back.”

Chi Qingzhou lightly rubbed against his fingers and acknowledged softly.

As the ghostly veil lifted, he curved his eyes into a smile and looked at Shen Wenxing, breaking the awkward silence with a round of applause.

Seeing this, the other guests, though unsure of the reason, quickly followed suit and started clapping.

Shen Wenxing, who had been stiff, instinctively looked at Chi Qingzhou.

His abilities were far weaker than Chi Qingzhou’s, so he didn’t sense Xing Shuangzhan’s ghostly interference. He only saw the genuine appreciation in Chi Qingzhou’s expression. The tension in his shoulders gradually eased.

If he remembered correctly, Chi Qingzhou seemed to know a bit about Cultivation?

Then his applause… wasn’t just to break the awkwardness but actual admiration for his cousin?

He started to like Chi Qingzhou a little.

When his gaze met Chi Qingzhou’s beautiful, peach blossom-shaped eyes, his ears grew uncontrollably warm.

Although Chi Qingzhou wasn’t as much of a genius as his cousin, someone like him being likable was… quite natural, right?

…

Shen Wenxing, his ears turning red, pretended to rest and gazed around at the scenery, thinking no one would notice his discomfort.

Little did he know that every move he made was being closely observed by members of the Paranormal Control Bureau, who were watching the live broadcast.

One person clicked their tongue in displeasure: “Why is there an outer disciple of the Xuanxu Sect in this episode?”

“Yeah, we let them off the hook for their previous ritual? They should be staying out of this.”

“Do they think sending an outer disciple doesn’t count as interference? So annoying. And after all that, Master Chi still showed them mercy.”

Cheng Yufei tapped the table, cutting off their complaints.

“Quiet down. I know what you’re all upset about, but since Master Chi himself hasn’t expressed any dissatisfaction, you all should restrain yourselves too.”

The group exchanged glances and fell into silence.

Cheng Yufei refocused on the livestream.

Although Chi Qingzhou had previously rejected the Bureau’s invitation, Cheng Yufei and the others had been completely transparent with him. They had informed him about how the Xuanxu Sect had performed a ritual for Xing Su, leading to injuries among the participants, including the primary and assistant officiants.

Chi Qingzhou had clearly been displeased at the time, but he didn’t retaliate against the Xuanxu Sect. Instead, he allowed the Paranormal Control Bureau to use his name in their negotiations with them.

This move had surprised many. The internal disagreements within the Bureau quieted down significantly.

Cheng Yufei and Daoist Master Du Ming’s assessment had been correct—whether it was the apocalypse-grade vengeful ghost Xing Su or the enigmatic Chi Qingzhou, both were, in fact, beings they could communicate with and potentially align with.

Their core principle at the Bureau had always been to unite all possible allies. Now that Chi Qingzhou had taken this stance, the Bureau’s overall attitude toward him naturally shifted.

The higher-ups in the Bureau were pleased and didn’t interfere with the spread of these rumors.

Cheng Yufei glanced at the still-frustrated team members, her expression turning serious.

“The Xuanxu Sect… could they still be after the Jingming Tomb?”

Daoist Master Duming flicked his horsetail whisk, appearing utterly composed. “Shen Wenxing may be close to Shen Wenxu, but he has little involvement with the Xuanxu Sect’s affairs. There’s no need to be overly concerned.”

Cheng Yufei was silent for a moment before speaking again.

“But will that be enough to resolve the anomalies at the Jingming Tomb? That place was Xing Su’s burial site.”

Duming corrected her lightly: “To be precise, it was formerly his burial site.”

An elder monk, dressed in robes and exuding a serene presence, pressed his palms together. “Duming is right. Captain Cheng, you should have more faith in this young friend.”

Cheng Yufei turned to him. “Master Jie’e, have you seen something?”

The old monk, Jie’e, closed his eyes. “Amitabha.”

Cheng Yufei’s expression stiffened.

Not again.

This old monk was always cryptic—his divinations were accurate, but he only ever gave half-answers.

Daoist Master Duming chuckled and shook his head. “No need to overthink it. Even though Xing Su left three years ago, he is still the true master of the tomb. Since Master Chi has a contract with him, no matter how much the tomb resists, it won’t actually harm him.”

He paused slightly, his old yet piercing eyes flashing with insight.

“Besides, who’s to say Master Chi hasn’t already left behind a contingency plan?”

The moment he said this, even Master Jie’e opened his eyes and looked at him intently.

But Duming showed no intention of explaining further. He simply held his horsetail whisk, exuding an air of immortality and wisdom.

Cheng Yufei closed her eyes.

Not again.

Fine, she wouldn’t ask anymore.

Whatever Master Chi had planned, it wouldn’t be worse than their worst-case scenario.

….

While the Paranormal Control Bureau members were deep in discussion, the cast of Scenery Along the Way followed the host to a temporary resting area set up by the production team.

The free shuttle to Bishui Bay Hot Springs Resort wasn’t far from here.

However, the shuttle ran on a set schedule, and the next one wouldn’t arrive for another hour and a half.

The director noticed that Xue Jinshi was completely exhausted, and the other guests weren’t faring much better. Rather than having them rest by the roadside, he set up a temporary site.

Xue Jinshi was stubborn—he still refused to part with his suitcase full of skincare products.

Everyone respected his choice and let him struggle along, lugging the heavy case to the rest area.

After setting it down, he instinctively looked for Chi Qingning and saw him eagerly offering a free bottle of water from the show to Chi Qingzhou.

Xue Jinshi: “…”

His mood took a hit.

Chi Qingzhou accepted the water, thanked Chi Qingning, and sat down on his suitcase, closing his eyes to rest.

Chi Qingning, sensing it wasn’t the right time to stick around, stood up and walked away—only to notice Xue Jinshi staring at him.

After hesitating for a moment, he still decided to walk over.

Unseen by all, Chi Qingzhou opened his eyes behind him.

Thanks to Xing Shuangzhan’s ghostly presence, no one noticed.

He reached out and caught a small, origami-like paper crane formed from ghostly energy.

“This is Lu Yao’s ghost energy,” Chi Qingzhou mused. “Why is she suddenly sending a message?”

Was something wrong?

Xing Shuangzhan, seated beside him, casually pinched a corner of the paper crane and raised an eyebrow. “Open it and see.”

Chi Qingzhou hummed, leaned against Xing Shuangzhan, and unfolded the message.

Lu Yao’s cheerful voice rang out:

“Zhouzhou, good afternoon! How’s your wound healing? I have something to tell you!”

“Yesterday, I met a wandering corpse near Yuntian Province and chatted with him for a while.”

“He’s young, about twenty-three or twenty-four. He was killed by a childhood friend. Since his soul is trapped in his body, he hasn’t turned into a vengeful spirit, but he also can’t move on to the underworld or get a Fengdu Order for revenge. He’s been quite restless.”

“I told him you’re an especially kind person who often helps friends get justice. He secretly looked you up online, saw your next filming location was in Yuexi Ridge, and already set out to find you!”

Chi Qingzhou’s eyes lit up.

Lu Yao was amazing—he didn’t have a wandering corpse friend yet!

The system lurking in his shadow nearly choked.

Xing Shuangzhan, however, chuckled and gently squeezed the back of his neck. His gaze softened.

“This message was sent three days ago.”

Three days ago?

Chi Qingzhou did a quick mental calculation, his eyes shining even brighter.

That meant Luo Huaiyu should be arriving at Yuexi Ridge today!