Chapter 71

Chapter Seventy-One

An Ye and the host both knew something had gone wrong backstage; the director’s angry yelling in the earpiece was almost drowning out the audience’s applause.

But on the surface, An Ye and the host looked calm. They exchanged a subtle glance. The host slowed down the pace of asking questions, and An Ye took more time to think.

Both were using their own ways to buy time. An Ye looked at Qi Wei, who was staring grim-faced at the live broadcast in the studio, then frowned and sent a message backstage.

Sure enough, a sad premonition never fails.

Last night, when chatting, Chi Tuo had said that when the entertainment new team was first established, it was extremely chaotic. Now that your studio is just a few people, it’s bound to be chaotic. He especially said Lan Yifang would probably have to make several mistakes before mastering the job.

Chi Tuo, you jinx.

An Ye bit down on the countdown smile and answered the host’s question about poetry related to the Lantern Festival, cursing inwardly.

“We really can’t find any agricultural experts last minute for the Lantern Festival,” the coordinator was sweating profusely. “It’s a live broadcast, and experts aren’t willing to appear without prior communication, especially since they have to use real names.”

“What the hell kind of operation is this!” The director couldn’t help but shout. “You know this is live! First, you tell me the person can’t come. Then you replace them with An Ye, who has more star power, but the program’s effect isn’t even a tenth of Qingze’s! And now even something as simple as an off-site expert call goes wrong! Where’s the expert you contacted?! Is this how Huanzhao runs things?!”

Lan Yifang was speechless, tears streaming as she kept making phone calls with her head down.

The office number of the agricultural expert she was able to reach before going on stage, the expert assistant’s number, even the front desk of their institution—all were now unreachable, switched off.

When Qi Wei walked backstage, she just happened to hear someone from the scriptwriting team telling the director that if things really can’t be fixed, they should end the contest early and use the freed-up time to air Lantern Festival songs and dances.

The director’s expression looked tempted; the hesitation probably came from the fact that although An Ye had little effect on the program, she was still a big-name guest for the Lantern Festival finale, so giving up a few minutes felt like a waste.

Qi Wei called a familiar contact in the art coordination team to clarify the situation and stopped the director before he made a decision.

“Director Sun!” Qi Wei pulled the crying Lan Yifang aside and grabbed the director’s sleeve. “Give me two minutes.”

Director Yang glared at Qi Wei. “What, did you contact the expert?”

“Not necessarily an expert,” Qi Wei said. “I looked at that agricultural question; it’s quite difficult. Would it be better if someone else went up and couldn’t answer it?”

Director Yang’s eyes widened as he was about to get angry again.

The off-site help was one of the positive promotional elements of “Treasure Stage.” Otherwise, a live quiz show exposing stars’ lack of common knowledge every day would easily get canceled. In this low-content pure entertainment Q&A, inserting some professional questions and popular science was one of the show’s highlights.

Changing this fixed process would be worse than just inserting a song and dance.

But the scriptwriting team kept winking at the director.

“Can we call a private number?” one scriptwriter leaned in to ask.

Qi Wei quickly nodded.

The only temporary idea she had was to give the phone to An Ye, letting An Ye call an actor from the Xiangyang troupe. This could increase the program’s fun and also promote Xiangyang City. She didn’t want to waste these few minutes; cutting a key segment last minute, plus the online trolls stirring up the chatroom, if An Ye got cut, the lack of program effect would definitely be blown up as a big issue.

Such a seemingly harmless negative point could easily spark discussion and was hard to clarify. Once public opinion unified, the star’s commercial image would change.

Huanzhao was not only trying to annoy them but also suppress An Ye’s value.

Qi Wei could not allow this to happen.

Besides, she bet the production team would agree to her proposal. The creative team of this show had already thought of the bold idea of simultaneous live broadcasting on TV and online—they would probably like this spontaneous idea too.Sure enough, after the director, scriptwriters, and live broadcast team met for a minute, they signaled Qi Wei to hand An Ye’s phone over to the on-site coordinator.

Qi Wei didn’t feel comfortable telling the production team to have An Ye contact the Xiangyang troupe, but she believed that An Ye, as a veteran artist with ten years of experience, should be well aware of this kind of thing.

To remind An Ye, the moment their eyes met in the live broadcast hall, Qi Wei made a big circle gesture at her.

Call Xiangyang!

An Ye’s celebrity mask was firmly in place; Qi Wei couldn’t tell from her perfect smile whether she had caught the hint. Feeling both anxious and reassuring herself, she thought: An Ye knows, no problem. She’s been around for so many years and is savvy—she definitely wouldn’t miss a promotional opportunity on a ratings-driven live show.

Lan Yifang was completely dazed after this ordeal. After Qi Wei pulled her into the live hall, she shrank behind her without saying a word, still lowering her head and persistently dialing that switched-off number.

“Stop calling,” Qi Wei whispered. “We’ve obviously been set up this time.”

Lan Yifang stared blankly at Qi Wei.

Qi Wei patted Lan Yifang’s shoulder and didn’t say anything else.

No matter how well they prepared, things could never go completely smoothly.

A personal studio couldn’t compare to a global entertainment company like Huanzhao, which was already publicly listed. Before the formal contract termination, these kinds of things would definitely happen again. All they could do was be extra cautious and try to minimize losses.

Only next time, Lan Yifang couldn’t cry like this again.

Qi Wei reminded herself to give Lan Yifang some tough love later.

Qi Wei never expected the tough love to come so soon.

She didn’t have an earpiece, so she didn’t know how the director and editor were communicating with An Ye. All she saw was An Ye raise her hand and press the earpiece, as if picking up the host’s thread, smiling and nodding slightly.

Then the director leaned forward and handed An Ye’s phone to her.

An Ye took the phone and seemed to dial a number without even a second of hesitation.

The celebrity’s private phone—out of respect, the director didn’t screen-share An Ye’s phone but just cut to a “connecting call” transition.

Qi Wei’s palms were sweaty as she rapidly ran through An Ye’s contacts in her mind. An Ye’s phone was full of staff numbers. Judging by her quick dialing, she was probably calling someone she’d contacted recently.

It definitely wasn’t Yang Zhengyi.

Qi Wei’s mind went blank, silently hoping it wasn’t Yang Zhengyi. If the obscure agricultural question—something normal people wouldn’t notice—was thrown at Yang Zhengyi, she feared he might curse on the spot.

The phone kept ringing with no answer.

An Ye’s expression showed no change, but the host’s smile began to stiffen. The entire studio was silent as if a graveyard.

Qi Wei even started to pessimistically predict that if the call didn’t go through, the director would immediately cut to Lantern Festival songs and dances, and An Ye would probably get a yellow card from Baigang Satellite TV...

The call was picked up just as it was about to be hung up. The host’s eyes instantly lit up and he was about to speak when a cough came from the other end.

Then a hoarse, groggy male voice that sounded like someone who just woke up or was hungover said, “An Jiu Jiu, did you draw the turtle on my face last night with an oil-based pen?!”

Host: “...”

An Ye: “...”

Damn, wasn’t that pen his own?!An Ye bit her teeth and kept smiling: “Chi Lü, this is An Ye.”

The other end of the line quickly went silent, then after a while, the voice became very serious: “Ah, hello, Teacher An.”

Qi Wei: “... damn.”

Lan Yifang forgot her worries, half-opened her mouth, staring blankly at Qi Wei.

The host quickly took over: “Chi Lü, is it? Hello, I’m host Ping An. Happy Lantern Festival! May I ask if you’ve heard of the show Star Treasure Grand Stage?”

Chi Tuo paused for half a second again: “Hello.”

An Ye’s trembling lips were almost uncontrollable. For some reason, she felt it was funny—as if once this call ended, they’d all be doomed together.

Chi Tuo’s panicked yet pretending-to-be-calm demeanor was hilarious.

“This is how it is,” the host, used to live connections, quickly got the rhythm back on track with just a few words. “An Ye has an off-site call opportunity, and we need to ask you a question. Are you available to answer?”

Chi Tuo: “... available.”

The host cleared his throat.

An Ye looked over the question again; her lips trembled so badly she could hardly bear it. She could only lightly cough behind her hand.

She had never had to suppress laughter this much in her life.

“Please, Chi Lü.” The host held the answer card and made the classic quiz show move, raising his right hand with perfect enunciation: “Regarding the storage of grain and oil seeds, what is the national standard for safe moisture content in cereal seeds?”

An Ye gripped her own thigh tightly.

Lan Yifang: “... uh.”

Qi Wei: “...”

She stared at her already exploding publicity group chat, where everyone was hammering her about how to steer the following bullet comments.

She helplessly glanced at the bullet comments again. She felt that last time on Star Treasure Grand Stage, the chat was lively mostly because some singer who claimed to be an Oxford Saïd Business School graduate insisted that the capital of Germany was Ireland.

Poor An Ye had no such qualifications, yet just by making a call, she got this kind of chat reaction.

Huanzhao probably hadn’t had time to respond, so the current bullet comments were pretty genuine.

Most were question marks.

A small portion were asking if An Ye was holding back laughter.

An even smaller portion were saying An Ye looked really good, her eyes were beautiful.

Qi Wei took screenshots of those few positive comments and sent them to the workgroup chat: “Go with this vibe.”

PR stuff could wait until after the show. For now, covering up the “An Ye pretends” incident was an unexpected bonus.

She looked back at the live hall.

Chi Tuo was silent for four or five seconds, then calmly asked: “Are there options?”

The host smiled and offered four choices, ranging from 2% to 60%.

The whole venue started a ten-second countdown for the quiz. The audience, led by the director, began counting down together.Amid the uproar, Chi Tuo chose A, 12% to 14%.

Correct answer.

The moment the golden color bars dropped, the camera precisely gave a close-up of An Ye, who usually wore a perfect smile like a mask. In that instant, her mouth half-open, she looked a bit stunned at the camera, her eyes full of a vivid "damn, this is actually possible" expression.

The bullet comments wildly flooded with countless “hahaha.”

On social media platforms like Weibo and Xiaohongshu, marketing accounts quickly screenshot and posted An Ye’s stunned “this can happen” expression, followed by a row of “hahahaha” in the comments.

The host, probably feeling the connection went well, even said deliberately while hanging up: “Oil-based ink can be removed with medicated oil or alcohol.”

Chi Tuo was quiet for another second, then calmly replied: “Thank you, happy Lantern Festival.”