Chapter 13: The Performance

 

Hu Xiu finally understood that films have scripts, variety shows have scripts, livestreams have scripts... and even relationships have scripts.

Those touching love stories in movies are also repeatedly revised and refined, with careful attention to artistic conception, camera angles, dialogue timing, and emotional development.

But real life is a single-take performance. Human relationships develop chemistry through dialogue and circumstances. Misspoken words, inappropriate actions, mutual scheming, unresolved conflicts, hollow apologies and forced reconciliations—all of it leaves behind lingering resentments. Or worse: cracks.

When Zhao Xiaorou was twenty-three or twenty-four, she'd been obsessed with chasing Korean idols. She'd buy thirty albums at Synnara to get into fan sign events, then tear out pages to sell signed photos for profit. She'd post meticulously edited idol photos to build her following and print merchandise—all to recoup costs.

Later, she tapped into BTS merchandise reselling, making a small fortune in 2015 while steadily accumulating followers.

What Hu Xiu admired most about Zhao Xiaorou was her complete lack of principles—she could use her sharp instincts to predict which K-pop group would explode, immediately become a "genuine" fan, take photos, build her reputation in fandom circles, and then cash out.

And she was almost never wrong. Every minor celebrity she'd backed ended up becoming famous. She'd happily reminisce about how she'd enjoyed being surrounded by BTS members making eye contact during their debut days, before they became global superstars.

After returning to Shanghai, she applied at an advertising agency. The boss valued her follower count, so she joined bringing her social media empire with her. She resigned within three months, taking Wang Guangming—whom she'd quickly married—along with her.

Wang Guangming was a TV commercial director, relatively handsome with strong bone structure that overpowered his softer features. Full lips that were quite sensual, and when he wore glasses he looked somewhat refined, yet also... calculating.

As Zhao Xiaorou had put it back then: "Men whose bones show through their flesh are usually vigorously energetic."

After marriage, Wang Guangming became two-faced—filming affectionate videos with Zhao Xiaorou to drive traffic and gain followers, while privately sliding into young women's DMs.

Hu Xiu had naturally discovered this on Weibo. Wang Guangming's main account was called "Rou Rou's Official Man" (disgustingly saccharine), where he crafted a devoted husband persona. His alt account was "highlightMinG," frequently lurking in young women's comment sections.

Moreover, Wang Guangming had a leg fetish. Every girl he flirted with invariably had slender, shapely legs featured prominently on their profiles—fair skin, pretty faces.

Wang Guangming used to look down on Zhao Xiaorou, thinking she was brainless, too sharp-tongued, and mentally unstable for being so deeply involved in fan culture.

After dating and marrying, he'd somewhat settled down, seriously using packaging strategies to create the illusion that Zhao Xiaorou had impeccable taste and was a relationship expert.

After all, being well-versed in PR psychology, he was quite skilled at image crafting.

Zhao Xiaorou accumulated two million followers, cementing her status as an internet celebrity through their public displays of affection. Their 2017 second wedding video led to five thousand sets of matching couple outfits selling out completely. Divorce would mean devastating their income stream.

Now that they'd reached the point of divorce, Hu Xiu thought neither of them was remotely innocent.

They both just wanted to strike first from the moral high ground, without being too obvious about it.

Those who love performing never stop performing—they don't even mind being criticized for trend-chasing since they can profit from it. Suddenly not wanting to perform anymore simply meant wanting to change personas. Wang Guangming had created this atmosphere of a beautiful, sweet, devoted wife, but she no longer wanted to play that role.

Trapped on this path, she could only present Wang Guangming as her devoted man, and he was a cheating scumbag. The gossip forums were already laughing about her being cuckolded.

Back in the day, Zhao Xiaorou had needed Wang Guangming to help build her public image. Now that she'd earned enough money, reaped the benefits of their partnership, and the market had become oversaturated, it was the perfect time to cut ties.

Ah, the 21st century—digital cities and marriages gone sour.

Zhao Xiaorou's battle plan was straightforward: expose Wang Guangming during the livestream.

Today, the two were supposed to do each other's makeup while promoting a company's eyeliner pencil and lipstick.

Zhao Xiaorou had meticulously scripted it: during the livestream, she'd bring up their whirlwind romance and marriage, they'd apply makeup to each other, share a kiss, and reveal some personal anecdotes. In the middle, Wang Guangming would use lipstick to draw his eyebrows and eyeliner to outline his lips, pretending to be a clueless straight guy while actually seeming unconventional—the marketing posts had already been purchased and scheduled.

Hu Xiu's role was to appear briefly and discuss Zhao Xiaorou's devotion, emphasizing that aside from her celebrity crushes, Wang Guangming was her only real romantic interest.

That part was actually true. Zhao Xiaorou's cringe-worthy online dating history would be buried with her, along with her plastic surgery secrets.

The livestream began. The two sat under studio lights and filters, radiating saccharine sweetness from the opening frame.

Hu Xiu sat to the side, bored, scrolling through her phone. Her lock screen displayed a photo of Qin Xiaoyi in military uniform, sent by customer service.

"Today, we're discussing makeup. As everyone knows, Lao Wang is the ultimate straight guy. I've always wanted to do a video where we do each other's makeup, and today's livestream is the perfect opportunity. Since this is live, we might end up arguing midway. After all, we're an old married couple—you know how it is."

"How could I ever argue with you?" Wang Guangming's voice oozed with performative hormones. Having recently gotten facial contouring, he leaned closer to Zhao Xiaorou to show off his profile.

Hu Xiu suddenly grew interested. When it came to acting, these two were no less skilled than the NPCs at Snowpiercer.

They picked up the products naturally, seamlessly weaving emotional platitudes into their banter.

Zhao Xiaorou mentioned how her friends' husbands had all gained weight. Wang Guangming unscrewed the mascara wand casually. "That won't do. Men can't let themselves go either. We live in an era of gender equality—if two people aren't on the same level, women will look down on men too. And for health and aesthetics, I think men should work out as well. Never become the kind of guy who works out desperately before marriage to attract women, only to have people assume that working out after marriage means you're either cheating or terminally ill. See how terrible that sounds?"

"But honestly, no matter how Lao Wang changes, I'll always love him. It's just that he's so disciplined—his chest muscles are almost bigger than mine now. Lao Wang, look, someone just sent a gift saying you're handsome and asking why you can't be mass-produced."

"Of course I can't be. One of me is enough for you. As for you, little romantic hoping to fall in love, you'll find the right guy for you too."

Hu Xiu noticed Zhao Xiaorou's gaze falter briefly. When she looked up again, there was genuine melancholy in her expression.

In that fleeting moment, both affection and heartache dissolved across her face—she couldn't completely control her emotions. She wasn't entirely without reluctance toward Wang Guangming.

Hu Xiu sat beside Zhao Xiaorou for only a minute, mentioning how she'd been single her whole life and loved chasing celebrities before retreating off-camera. Then came the makeup session.

As they took out eyeliner pencils, Zhao Xiaorou meticulously applied both upper and lower liner, using reddish-brown at the inner corners and blue at the outer corners, then blended it with a cotton swab. She finished with magenta lipstick, transforming Wang Guangming into an exotic cabaret performer.

Wang Guangming, with his now-enhanced lips, puckered them at the camera and whined, "Baby, I look so ugly."

Without even thinking, you knew the tens of thousands watching were laughing, because Zhao Xiaorou had used glittery lip gloss, making his lips look like two poisoned sausages.

Wang Guangming wasn't to be outdone—he planted a kiss directly on Zhao Xiaorou's cheek, leaving a huge lipstick mark on the right side of her face. She kept wiping with tissues. "Thankfully I still have makeup remover wipes. I just hope they aren't too effective and end up removing my foundation."

So the products being promoted weren't just eyeliner but also makeup remover wipes. Just as Hu Xiu, watching as a close-up audience member, was marveling at their superb acting skills, the livestream ended and Wang Guangming stood to go to the restroom.

Zhao Xiaorou didn't move. Instead, she tidied her things in front of the camera, tears silently streaming down her cheeks as she sobbed quietly.

Wang Guangming noticed and walked over, nervously glancing around to confirm the livestream was off. He picked up Zhao Xiaorou's hair tie and fidgeted with it. "Why are you crying in front of the camera? What if the livestream wasn't actually turned off?"

"It's nothing. I'm just upset, afraid that everything from you is just performance."

"Where did I perform? I was fucking genuine!" Wang Guangming threw the hair tie aside. "Zhao Xiaorou, stop being so paranoid, okay?"

Zhao Xiaorou turned her face away, crying silently with an expression full of grievance.

With staff and Hu Xiu nearby, Wang Guangming had no choice but to bend down, wrap his arms around Zhao Xiaorou, and pat her back. "Stop crying. I would never act with you. We've been together so long—you know me. Have a little trust in me, okay?"

After comforting her for several minutes, Wang Guangming finally stood and left. Hu Xiu, who'd been sitting in a daze, timed it perfectly and closed the livestream.

There had been a bug in the app recently—you had to click the exit button twice to actually close it. The first click only grayed out the screen, but fans, though unable to see the scene, could still hear the audio.

Today, Hu Xiu's primary task was to exploit this bug and expose Wang Guangming's ugly behavior.

Once the room was empty, Zhao Xiaorou flung her phone onto the table. "That old fox Wang Guangming—he knew my crying was performance."

Now it was Hu Xiu's turn to be confused.

"He knew the livestream wasn't off. I sat there crying to show the fans, to maintain our loving couple image. And he actually went along with it, hugging me and performing a five-minute comfort scene. Understand? He didn't slip up. But after this, there's no going back for us. I have to hand it to him—he can fucking act."

A message popped up on her phone from Wang Guangming: "Don't go too far..."

Hu Xiu finally understood: movies have scripts, variety shows have scripts, livestreams have scripts... and even relationships have scripts.

Those touching love stories in films are repeatedly revised and polished, with careful consideration for mood, angles, dialogue, and emotional impact.

But real life is a one-take performance. Relationships develop chemistry through dialogue and scenes. Misspoken words, outrageous actions, mutual scheming, conflicts that arise, apologies and reconciliation attempts—all leave behind grudges. Or cracks.

Qin Xiaoyi's love for her was also scripted—on-screen it was, but off-screen, she didn't know.

Yet no matter how she examined it, Hu Xiu couldn't dismiss it as mere acting.

He'd already been enshrined in her heart as her boyfriend. Even if it could never happen in reality, she wished that in her story with Qin Xiaoyi, the mysterious and enchanting ambiguity would last a little longer, allowing her to indulge fully in the dream.

Moreover, if love must be orchestrated and controlled by calculation, she'd rather keep Qin Xiaoyi confined to the stage, visiting him occasionally. A love built on tactics and pretense, ending in mutual blame before the inevitable split—that kind of relationship wasn't for her.

When they arrived at REGARD, Zhao Xiaorou was seething. She didn't even touch her coffee, instead rummaging through the old cabinet under the counter for imported liquor and viciously destroying her dessert. "That Wang Guangming is a scumbag who's drunk amnesia potion! He never came home after the livestream—where did he go? Off fooling around with some floozy!"

Her clumsy attempt at Shanghainese dialect made Li Ai's face turn green after just a few sentences; he tactfully retreated to the back kitchen to cook noodles.

Hu Xiu couldn't get a word in, so she silently ate her cake, thinking how similar their livestream was to this very dessert. It looked perfectly formed and richly sweet, but was actually fragile—once smashed, it became a mess, yet you could still force it down if you had to. Just like most marriages.

Zhao Xiaorou grew angrier as she spoke. "I was boiling inside, but I couldn't explode. Wang Guangming has the guts to put on an act, so why doesn't he have the courage to confront me directly? Argue with me, bring up divorce—isn't he just afraid of being called a scumbag by netizens?"

A bowl of cheesy ham pasta was promptly placed on the table, and the liquor bottle was quietly swapped for sparkling water.

Noticing the mostly empty bottle, Li Ai shook his head slightly, screwed the cap back on, and returned it to the cabinet.

Zhao Xiaorou turned irritable when hungry, her anger magnified. Hu Xiu never understood why Zhao Xiaorou had such a temper until Li Ai pointed out this emotional pattern.

Despite wolfing down the noodles messily, Zhao Xiaorou still couldn't swallow her rage. "Only twenty-seven, and I'm supposed to suffocate myself as a married woman with no emotional life? Impossible. But I don't need this marriage as a shield. I must get divorced and be free. I swear right now—after the divorce, the first thing I'll do is sleep with that brainless hunk Ning Zechen!"

The sudden mention of a name from Snowpiercer shocked Hu Xiu so much her jaw dropped. After a dazed moment, she managed, "Fine, as long as you don't sleep with Qin Xiaoyi."

"Of course I know Qin Xiaoyi is the hottest one there, but I'd never stoop to stealing a sister's man. A woman with principles and boundaries like me, trapped in a marriage watching her husband cheat—what's the point? Wang Guangming will probably file for divorce himself once he parasites his way to 100,000 followers. That bastard won't even spend money to buy followers. Trash."

Hu Xiu was completely distracted by the mention of Qin Xiaoyi, her heart rate unsteady. "What did you say?"

Li Ai saw through Hu Xiu's blushing face. "Look, she's so obsessed with Qin Xiaoyi she can't hear anything else now."

"Let me tell you, Hu Xiu—if you stay stuck in the fantasy, you'll never actually get Qin Xiaoyi either. Him giving you a watch and taking a beating for you in the show doesn't mean he has feelings for you offstage. Either go for it or let it go—don't keep muddling your head and wasting your real life. You, me, Li Ai—we all need to move out of the shadows quickly."

Gentle light spilled over the small table as Li Ai picked up a guitar and smiled softly. "I actually think adult life isn't about escaping shadows—it's more normal to occasionally catch glimpses of sunlight. No need to rush into new phases. Go with the flow a little. That naive, passionate mindset is fleeting—once it's gone, it never comes back."

"Li Ai, you sound ancient saying that, like you've weathered all the storms." Zhao Xiaorou gently patted his shoulder as if drunk. "You're only thirty-two. We genuinely hope you can pull yourself together soon. Besides, you're such a good person—no one is worthy of you."

"Why does that sound like a 'nice guy' dismissal?"

"If you ever find someone you like, remember to tell me. I would—" Zhao Xiaorou shook her head. "Be jealous of her..."

Before Li Ai could respond, Zhao Xiaorou's phone rang. Wang Guangming was calling. "Sweetheart, I was wrong earlier, I apologize. Let's go on a double date in a few days, bring Hu Xiu's boyfriend along."

"That's not her boyfriend."

"They've been on so many dates, who are you trying to fool? Besides, I know Hu Xiu likes LARPs. The four of us can join a session together. Let's do the hottest one—Snowpiercer."

Hu Xiu overheard everything, and a dark cloud swiftly descended. She didn't know if Wang Guangming truly meant to apologize, but at the very least, she sensed his scheme—to shatter her beautiful dream.

To force her to watch Qin Xiaoyi perform love for another woman. To make her see, in real time, that everything she'd treasured was just lines delivered to the next player in queue.

Her hand trembled slightly, the cheap rhinestone watch catching the light.

Some dreams, once shattered, could never be pieced back together.

Thoughts: 

Hu Xiu is about to learn that everything is performance—Zhao Xiaorou's livestream marriage, Wang Guangming's devotion, even the tears and reconciliations. As she watches her friend execute an elaborate plan to expose her husband's infidelity on camera, only to have him turn the tables with his own counterperformance, a terrifying question emerges: If relationships are just scripts we perform until the cracks show, what does that mean for her feelings about Qin Xiaoyi? 

And when Wang Guangming suggests a double date at Snowpiercer, Hu Xiu realizes her beautiful dream might be about to shatter against the sharp edges of reality.