`Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Night had fallen deep, yet the Chinese-style kitchen of Minghu Villa was blazing with firelight.
A dozen or so veteran chefs from old Danzhou restaurants each took a corner, their spatulas flying in the air. Garlic sand and bean noodles sizzled in hot oil, and the air was filled with the rich aroma of seafood. From the stove rose five or six curling wisps of steam, as if a smokeless battle were taking place. Occasionally, the old chefs shouted in accented voices: “Turn up the heat!” “Who took my light soy sauce?”
Bowls of visually and aromatically perfect garlic sand bean noodles were neatly arranged on a long table, each with a number card, like soldiers waiting for inspection. Shiyin held her “Lonely Little Bowl,” tasting each one reverently.
【Satisfaction 92%】
【Satisfaction 95%】
【Satisfaction 89%】
“Wow, local chefs making local dishes, truly authentic!”
Seeing the uniformly high scores, Shiyin’s eyes curved into crescents, secretly delighted, when suddenly:
【Satisfaction 100%】
Her eyes widened, chopsticks still in her mouth: “Which master chef made this one?” Shiyin pointed at bowl number 7. The number 7 garlic sand bean noodle looked simple and unassuming but was astonishingly delicious—smooth bean noodles, crisp and bouncy garlic sand, rich broth with just the right hint of scallion aroma, as if gentle ocean waves were lapping at her tongue.
“Hehe, that’s me.” A chef wearing a faded apron from “Hao Biao Seafood Stall” raised his hand shyly.
Several Michelin-starred chefs in spotless white aprons immediately objected. One slick-haired chef crossed his arms: “This is just the most home-style method, every Danzhou person can make it! No skill required!”
Shiyin hurriedly smoothed things over: “It’s personal taste, everyone’s dishes are super delicious. Look, I finished every bowl completely.” She shook the almost empty bowl playfully, easing the tense atmosphere.
After all the chefs were sent off, Shiyin stayed behind with number 7, Chef Hao Biao: “Could you make one more bowl for me?”
While waiting, she curled up on a small kitchen stool and sent a message to Duan Wenting, saying she had heard he was recently in Tancheng, wanting to ask him some acting questions, and specifically emphasized she would be accompanied by manager Wen Jinhe.
Honestly, sending a message like this proactively to a male artist could easily be misinterpreted, so Shiyin invoked Wen Jinhe to clarify that it was purely for consultation, with no improper intentions.
Duan Wenting quickly replied via voice, the background noisy: “Xiaoshi, we’re eating. Come over.”
Ten minutes later, Shiyin hurried out with the neatly packed meal boxes.
On the roadside was a fully carbon-black McLaren Speedtail. This time Shiyin didn’t recognize the brand, only thinking it was an unusually styled sports car. There was no passenger seat, so she walked around it once, puzzled for several seconds, until the butterfly doors opened automatically, and she climbed into the back seat.
The driver was not the familiar Master Cheng, but Zhou Yunfeng, who nodded at her as she got in: “The boss asked me to send you.”
“Thanks, Brother Feng.” Shiyin fastened her seatbelt, thinking Li Xuan’s arrangement was indeed meticulous. Zhou Yunfeng was the most composed and reliable person she had ever met; with him at the helm, even a wild sports car felt tame.
With the engine roaring, the McLaren shot into the night like an arrow released from a bow.
~
Shiyin arrived at the destination to find it was actually a bustling street food stall filled with smoke and firelight. Duan Wenting sat in a plastic-covered corner booth, wearing gloves and peeling crayfish with practiced ease, like a seasoned local.
Zhou Yunfeng parked the car by the roadside, remaining silent as he followed Shiyin.
“Teacher Duan, sorry to disturb you.” Shiyin lightly knocked on the doorframe.
Duan Wenting looked up, his sauce-stained face immediately breaking into a smile: “Xiaoshi is here! Sit, have you eaten? This place’s thirteen-spice crayfish is really good, try some.” He gestured to his assistant to scoot over, freeing up two spots.
Shiyin sat down, wearing gloves to peel two crayfish, and asked two pre-prepared acting questions. Duan Wenting ate heartily while answering patiently, occasionally waving a half-eaten crayfish for emphasis, shells gradually piling into a small mound.
Seeing the atmosphere harmonious, Shiyin timely brought up the topic: “Teacher Duan, I heard that Saints in the Mist encountered some difficulties in review…”
“Ugh! Don’t mention it!” Duan Wenting set down the shells, annoyed. “Those people don’t understand drama at all! Any clear-eyed person can see which version is better.” He wiped his hands and said seriously: “Don’t worry, I’ve asked my brothers to handle it. A drama we worked hard on is meant to win awards, can’t let a bunch of amateurs mess with everyone’s efforts.”
Shiyin secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Indeed, Duan Wenting’s purity and insistence on art was her greatest leverage.
She then took out the carefully packed meal boxes: “Teacher Duan, Director Qu said you particularly love garlic sand bean noodles. Coincidentally, my uncle runs a food stall in Danzhou and recently returned home to visit. I asked him to specially make a portion for you, please try it.”
“Oh, trying to bribe me?” Duan Wenting laughed loudly, but efficiently opened the packaging and scooped the first bite with a clean spoon.
He chewed carefully, then fell silent, his gaze sharpening.
Shiyin looked nervously at him: Favorability +2.
Then, Duan Wenting scooped a full spoon, eating even more slowly this time, as if savoring a delicacy.
Favorability +3.
“Your uncle…” Duan Wenting looked up, eyes bright, “is quite something! What’s the name of his store?”
“Hao Biao Seafood Stall, on Shuguang Road in Danzhou, near the industrial park.”
Duan Wenting carefully noted the address in his phone memo, then slid the entire box of garlic sand bean noodles toward himself: “You’re not eating, right? Then I won’t be polite.”
The assistant and executive manager exchanged speechless looks: “…Wait, you didn’t even ask us?”
Duan Wenting attacked the noodles like a hungry tiger, devouring the entire portion, scraping the broth clean with a spoon. The nearby steaming crayfish completely lost favor.
Shiyin watched the favorability score soar, finally stopping at +5.
“Ding—” the system’s task completion sound effect rang in her ears.
“Burp—” Duan Wenting set down his utensils, satisfied. Looking at Shiyin, he thought this young woman was humble and diligent, somehow more pleasant than before.
“I’ve also heard about Zheng Ruwei and her company. Honestly, even if both versions pass review, I’d still advise Director Qu to use your performance.” Duan Wenting said sincerely. “I prefer your interpretation of ‘Lin Yutong.’ Audiences nowadays are smart, they have their own taste and judgment. Once the drama airs, the public will decide.”
He wiped his mouth and smiled: “I’m happy to accept this ‘bribe.’ I also give you my word: this drama will not be buried. Go home and wait for good news.”
“Thank you, Teacher Duan.” Shiyin said sincerely, a heavy stone finally lifting from her heart.
After finishing the crayfish, Shiyin said goodbye to Duan Wenting, humming a cheerful tune, walking happily out the door—until the scene in front of her froze her steps.
A huge crowd had gathered along the roadside, completely blocking the street. In the center, the full-carbon McLaren looked like an interstellar beast lost in a busy city, completely out of place among the clamor. Passersby raised phones and photographed madly; flashes lit up half the night sky.
“Everyone, look! This is the legendary Speedtail!” a blonde streamer shouted hoarsely on a live broadcast, face red with excitement. “The only one in the country! Price over twenty million!”
Several young boys circled the car, trying to find angles for photos with the supercar, but its sleek lines and flamboyant butterfly doors intimidated them from approaching. Even the roadside diners couldn’t eat, standing on stools to peek, voices filled with discussion, amazement, and camera clicks blending together.
Shiyin stiffly turned her head, exchanging a “we’re in trouble” look with Zhou Yunfeng.
“I’ll drive ahead and wait for you at the mall basement,” Zhou Yunfeng whispered knowingly.
Watching Zhou Yunfeng struggle through the crowd, Shiyin deliberately slowed her pace, pretending to be a casual passerby. She leaned next to the streamer shouting the loudest, wearing a purely curious expression: “Hey, what car is this? Why is everyone so excited?”
“This is a Speedtail! My dream sports car!” the streamer flailed arms excitedly, almost hitting Shiyin. “McLaren’s fastest road supercar ever, top speed 403 km/h! Ahhh, fans who want details, send me some likes!”
Shiyin clapped along, praising: “Amazing, amazing.”
In her heart, she quietly clicked her tongue.
Duan Wenting, tsk tsk, appearances can be deceiving.
~
August 8th, 8 PM, an ordinary weekend night. Shiyin was curled up on the sofa watching an old movie when her phone suddenly vibrated wildly, as if electrified.
In the Saints in the Mist creator group chat, the art director sent a Butterfly Video link, followed by a string of jumbled text:
“OMG!!!! How did our drama drop out of nowhere?!!!”
“What’s happening???”
“Black person question mark.jpg”
“Who has insider info???”
Within seconds, the chat exploded with shocked emojis. Even the usually composed director Qu Ping copied a “pupil quake” emoji and sent it first.
Shiyin’s heart skipped a beat. She opened the link. Her phone automatically jumped to the Butterfly Video app, and as the opening ad finished—Saints in the Mist’s familiar misty ensemble drama image occupied the most prominent spot on the homepage!
Under the “Exclusive Premiere” gilded label, all six episodes were fully unlocked.
The group chat went silent, as if everyone had been stunned by the sudden surprise or rushed off to gather news. Over ten minutes later, Qu Ping was the first to speak, directly tagging Duan Wenting:
“@Old Duan, did you handle this? How come you quietly did big things without giving a heads-up?”
Duan Wenting’s reply was nearly instantaneous, full of the same bewilderment:
“Ah? I didn’t know! My brothers only said it was almost cleared last week, no specific date!”
“Whoa, this level… which godly hand pulled this off?”
Shiyin’s fingers were flying through the messages when Wen Jinhe’s phone call came in, urgent with consecutive rings: “Are you home?”
“I’m home.”
“Good!” Wen Jinhe’s words tumbled out like spilled beans. “Open Butterfly Video immediately, I’m coming over to you right now!”
Shiyin took a deep breath, activated her Butterfly Video membership, and cast the first episode onto the TV. As the opening theme played in the living room, she still felt everything was surreal—who did this? How did it get broadcast so fast?
~
Fog.
Thick white mist shrouded the Xingfu Garden neighborhood, the damp cold seeming to seep into the bones.
The streets were empty, the residential area still sleeping in the silence before dawn.
A slender figure quietly emerged from the fog, wearing a loose hoodie, hood pulled low, mask covering the face, completely hiding their features in shadow. The person moved silently against the thick mist, carrying a heavy black garbage bag.
Pausing briefly in front of the sorting bins, they scanned the colors, then accurately tossed the bag into the “Other Waste” bin.
Task complete, the figure turned and disappeared, swallowed by the thick fog as if they had never appeared.
The camera slowly zoomed in, finally fixing on the dark green trash bin.
Time passed, daylight grew, and the surroundings became clear. A hand in dirty work gloves, knuckles thick, suddenly lifted the trash lid. A sanitation worker in bright orange uniform began routine labor, dumping the contents roughly onto the ground.
Startled stray cats dashed out to scavenge, the worker shooed them away impatiently. A frightened cat jumped back, knocking over a black bag with its hind legs in the chaos.
Clatter!
A strange, crisp impact echoed, several grayish-white, oddly shaped bone fragments tumbled out, glaring among leftover food.
The sanitation worker bent down curiously, hesitantly pinching a piece with fingertips. The fragment’s edges were jagged, material neither livestock bone nor a toy model. Even more chilling, one piece clearly resembling a human hip bone bore several scorched, twisted marks as if burned by fire.
A piercing siren shattered the morning calm of the neighborhood.
~
When Wen Jinhe arrived, the TV was showing the third episode—Lin Yutong’s first interrogation. The comment overlay was sparse at first, only occasionally scrolling, as suspense dramas have a dedicated audience; most comments focused on analyzing the plot:
“From Old Duan’s Weibo, sightseeing tour check-in.”
“Check-in +1, Old Duan acting as a cop is amazing.”
“Don’t spam the earlier parts, focus on the show.”
The camera now shifted to the interrogation room, focusing precisely on Shiyin’s face. Director Qu Ping deliberately lingered two extra seconds—cutting from Old Zhang’s weathered face, creating a striking contrast.
The girl on the screen had delicate features, barefaced yet far from plain. The lines of her brows and nose conveyed a sharp calm, and her eyes behind rimless glasses were as clear as mountain springs, yet bottomless.
The comment overlay gradually became lively:
“Eh? Eh eh??”
“Wow kaka, smart and gorgeous!”
“Her eyes are beautiful, but so empty, hard to read.”
“I bet fifty cents she’s here to mess with the police.”
“I bet a dollar.”
“New actress? So spirited!”
On screen, Shiyin’s voice was calm and unshaken as she spoke the key line: “I killed someone and dismembered the body.”
The comment overlay instantly exploded:
“??????”
“No way! She admitted it??”
“Is the screenwriter joking? That tiny body did a dismemberment? I don’t believe it!”
“Did the earlier parts speed up? Lin Yutong is a forensic expert, dismembering isn’t simple, right?”
As Old Zhang slammed the table in anger, the comment trend began to shift.
“Emmmmm… a bit stifled, feels like the police are being suppressed.”
“Seeing through Lin Yutong’s perspective is just pure thrill!”
“Everything you try to put yourself into will just ruin you.jpg”
“Dangerous comment: I’m actually a bit obsessed with this character… high IQ and perverted…”
“Wake up, this is a dismemberer!”
“When is Old Duan appearing, when is Old Duan appearing?”
“Fans, don’t spam, the first two episodes are all Duan Wenting, go watch for yourselves.”
“Focus on the plot, okay? This is a suspense drama, not an idol drama!”
“The new actress’s line delivery is very good, using the calmest voice to say the harshest lines, has she acted in anything else?”
Shiyin and Wen Jinhe binge-watched all six episodes in one go. Outside, the night was quiet. Qu Ping, truly a master of suspense dramas, stopped each episode at a critical point. When the plot paused at Zhao Ke returning to Huixian to check old files, the ending theme suddenly played with no warning.
The comment overlay instantly erupted with wails:
“That’s it? I already took my pants off and this is all I get?”
“Update faster, update faster, update faster!”
“Director, who told you to cut like this? Aren’t you afraid I’ll send you a razor?”
“Why do I feel Lin Yutong isn’t the real culprit? There won’t be a plot twist, right?!”
“Qu Ping’s drama always has twists.”
Wen Jinhe’s gaze swept over the rapidly scrolling comments on the screen—as the plot deepened, Lin Yutong appeared more frequently, from initial sparse curiosity to now widespread discussion. When the Nth comment “What else has this new actress acted in? Can’t find anything” scrolled past, she pressed pause.
In the quiet room, Wen Jinhe’s voice was especially clear:
“Clean up and get ready to rise in rank.”
~
That night, on a well-known film and TV forum, an originally ordinary rant post quickly went viral, marked “HOT.”
Post title: Family, Blood and Tears Warning! Never Open Saints in the Mist at Mealtime!
Poster: Challenge: Eat on 10 Yuan a Day
As stated, today the poster had ordered a rare deluxe pork knuckle meal with double char siu and meat rolls, happily looking for a show to watch while eating, and casually clicked on Butterfly Video’s homepage recommendation of the new drama Saints in the Mist… now deeply regretting it. My 42.5-yuan deluxe takeout didn’t even get a bite, all fed to the trash! Does this show have a grudge against the food industry?!
Comment 2: I was fine when I saw the trash can reveal bones, fine when I saw neatly stacked corpse pieces in the fridge, but when that roasted thigh appeared, I really couldn’t hold it anymore!!!
Comment 7: Are suspense dramas this cruel now? No mosaic at all? Isn’t the director afraid of censorship?
Comment 15: I was warned too! I should’ve been alert from the first episode’s bone close-up… I was too young.
Comment 22: My mom came in asking why I was gagging at braised pork elbow, I said I was watching a food show…
Comment 38: Why is everyone vomiting? Am I the only one enjoying it? This level is what makes a suspense drama! By the way, is anyone discussing the plot?
Comment 40: Reply to 38: For serious plot discussion → [Li Tao] Butterfly new drama Saints in the Mist plot discussion thread.
Author’s note: Starting tomorrow, resume 9:00 daily updates, aiming for three guaranteed, four to six contested [dog head holding rose].