The tropical rainforest climate of Malaysia was very apparent. On nights with good weather there were stars filling the sky, and under the moon countless fireflies clung to the green leaves. After finishing the night scene shoot on the mountain, an exhausted Fu Xueli lay in a hanging chair to rest. After admiring the view for a while and finding it too beautiful, she casually took a photo and posted it on Weibo.

ueli: Looking at the stars, hehe.

She carefully selected a few decent ones from her album and sent them to Xu Xingchun. After thinking for a long time, she added one more line:

It just rained, yet there are stars. Did you run up to the sky?

She had forcibly demanded his phone number a few days ago. The contact was saved simply as “Xu.” Since their last unpleasant parting, there had been no further contact.

He hadn’t replied to her WeChat friend request either.

Fu Xueli suspected this was a dead number and really wanted to try calling it. But she really couldn’t bring herself to harass the same person over and over again.

Although she realized she was no longer handling this relationship with ease, she was still unwilling to give up.

Unable to hold back for even two days, tonight she was possessed by something and couldn’t help sending over photos she’d taken herself. Anxiously clutching her phone waiting for a reply, she waited for quite a while. As expected, there was no reply at all.

Like a stone sinking into the sea.

The more she thought about it, the sadder she became. Finally she thought, forget it.

That’s it then.

What she learned after becoming an adult was to endure.

Endure irritation, endure sadness, endure grievances and confusion.

Endure when all your efforts get no return.

No one can’t live without someone else.

Why be so overly sentimental?

After filming in Malaysia for “Dawn Break,” the crew quickly moved to Bangkok, Thailand, the Golden Triangle region, and several locations in Yunnan for shooting. Due to her schedule, Fu Xueli wrapped up early in Yunnan.

Coincidentally on the day of the wrap party, there was an accident during the final action scene in the jungle.

Fu Xueli was bitten by a venomous insect over six inches long. Her ankle immediately swelled up with blisters the size of a fist. In order not to delay the production schedule, after the on-site doctor did simple disinfection treatment, she could only grit her teeth and continue persisting.

By the time this scene ended, the wound had become particularly serious. Fu Xueli was in so much pain she couldn’t move at all and nearly went into shock. Four strong men had to carry her onto the plane, rushing overnight back to Shencheng for hospital treatment.

Such a good publicity opportunity as getting injured while filming—of course the team didn’t let it pass. So that very evening Fu Xueli made it onto the trending searches. Without her own knowledge of the situation, her disheveled appearance lying unconscious on a stretcher receiving IV fluids was observed all over by people throughout the country who loved social media.

Actually it wasn’t anything too serious. Plus this period of filming had been too exhausting, so Fu Xueli slept straight through until the afternoon of the next day before waking up.

Tang Xin pushed the door open and saw Fu Xueli leisurely reclining in bed, casually peeling and eating a banana.

“Feeling better?” She put her bag aside and sat on the chair by the bed.

Fu Xueli was scrolling through Weibo, chewing on her own, frowning as she mumbled vaguely and handed her phone to Tang Xin to look at. “Tell me, did you guys pay them too little? Why do the photos these marketing accounts released make me look so ugly?”

Tang Xin was speechless. “Can your focus be a little less skewed? How is your body recovering?”

“It was never anything serious to begin with.” Scrolling through Weibo, Fu Xueli suddenly came across the night sky photos she’d taken a few days ago. Her heart stirred.

Staring at the screen thoughtfully, her fingers scrolled slightly.

She searched through her text messages, then went to check missed calls. In just one day, there really were many friends offering their concern.

She patiently and carefully flipped through page by page. Finally, on the third page, a bright red “Xu” appeared in her line of sight.

Looking at the time—it was in the middle of the night, close to dawn, not long after she’d made the trending searches.

Taking a screenshot, Fu Xueli contentedly closed her phone.

After resting less than two days, next came running promotional events all over the country. Entering the summer season, this was the busiest period of work.

Previously, Fu Xueli and He Lu’s popularity on the third season of a certain ace variety show had been too high—they’d practically become a national couple.

Tieba forums, Weibo comments, Bilibili—every platform was flooded with posts from CP fans. Both teams wanted to break the pairing, but the current situation really couldn’t be rushed; it wasn’t something that could be done in a short time.

First, there was still a fourth season, and they’d both signed agreements with the production team. Second, they were also afraid the backlash would be too severe—both sides were reluctant to give up this level of popularity.

This variety show was called “The Last 100 Percent”—a major resource that multiple parties fought over and found hard to tear away from.

A large-scale outdoor reality show launched by Blue TV. The rights were bought from overseas, and the production team’s directors were currently among the absolute best in the country.

It had humor, tears, and romance, with a wide suitable age range. It had exploded in popularity from its premiere a few years ago, with ratings breaking 4 multiple times. Almost all the main MCs had used it to build national recognition and rise to A-list status.

The good thing about participating in variety shows was that the filming cycle was short, but the returns were high. The popularity could be maintained, and with such high profits, only an idiot would give up.

—

The first episode of the fourth season of “The Last 100 Percent” was filmed in a small town by the Wu River. It was basically the same cast from the third season, but in addition to Fu Xueli, there was one more female MC.

Around her age, her name was Ji Qinqin.

Ji Qinqin could also be considered one of the currently popular female stars. She was of Chinese-European mixed heritage with a small pointed V-shaped face—typical Western features. What was very special about her was that she attracted fans extremely well, but at the same time also attracted extreme amounts of hate—almost two extremes.

This resulted in extremely high fan loyalty with explosive combat power, comparable to certain fresh meat stars in the industry called traffic emperors. Fu Xueli had heard about it—previously Ji Qinqin came from a Korean entertainment girl group background where she was the ace, able to sing and dance. Later when she returned to China to develop her career, she had connections in both Beijing circles and Shanghai circles, with good resources and opportunities coming continuously.

For this, Tang Xin had especially instructed, “Ji Qinqin very likely has quite a significant backer in the industry. Get along well with her—don’t get too close but don’t offend her either.”

Filming started the second day, but everyone had gathered for a meal together the day before. Most of the relationships from last season were quite good, so at the dinner table there were quite a few people teasing He Lu and Fu Xueli.

Some even directly joked asking about their wedding date and such.

He Lu went with the flow. He wasn’t an idiot—he tossed the setup to Fu Xueli. Smiling and cheerful, on the surface everything seemed perfectly fine.

At the table, Fu Xueli swirled her wine glass, taking small sips, but inside she sneered coldly, admiring He Lu’s composure.

Just recently, explicit photos of director Ming Heqi had leaked out. The scale was huge, her face clearly visible. Her pure and innocent persona had collapsed in ruins—it would be difficult to whitewash. It was said a third party had made the move. Ming Heqi now couldn’t even protect herself and was currently someone everyone trampled on.

He Lu, as her boyfriend, didn’t seem affected much. He chatted and laughed freely, going to his scheduled activities as usual.

Not long after, someone claiming to be a staff member started a gossip thread on Tieba:

Front-line report, today I was at the filming site. I swear on my foot that Lulu and Lili were especially sweet, explosively sweet!! Do you know they were already discussing marriage ahhhhh!!! Surprised? Unexpected!!!

[First Floor] Fire tongs Liu Ming

[Second Floor] Eyes can’t deceive. The way Lulu looks at Lili—it’s the most beautiful love I’ve ever seen, no doubt!

[Third Floor] Person above, confirmed through eye contact—Lulu met the right person?

[Fourth Floor] Too cute!!

[Fifth Floor] Previously when Lili was filming in Malaysia and posted that night sky photo, saying something about looking at stars—it must have been because she was missing someone (covering mouth and secretly laughing)

[Sixth Floor] Continue continue, please continue!

[Seventh Floor] I think anyone who still can’t tell they’re dating should crowdfund to buy themselves a brain.

At the end were even attached secretly taken photos from behind, the angle very ambiguous, enough for people to imagine several stories. The CP fans’ carnival wave even spread to Weibo, looking determined to make this rumor a reality.

However, most media people who knew the score just treated this as a joke.

The fact that He Lu’s girlfriend was Ming Heqi—to put it plainly, if the parties involved didn’t make it public, other people were quite conscientious and had to pretend on the surface that it wasn’t happening. As long as it didn’t involve one’s own interests, spreading rumors with whoever was just a means. The entertainment industry was like this—among all kinds of gods and demons, protecting oneself wisely was most important.

Don’t meddle in others’ business, don’t offend people.

—

Early the next morning, makeup artists, stylists, and following VJs came into the room to fuss about. After changing into the clothes to wear, they departed from the hotel promptly at six-thirty in the morning.

The tour bus was waiting at the door.

The weather today didn’t look too good—it would probably rain. She didn’t know why, but from early in the morning, Fu Xueli’s eyelid kept twitching. She always felt like something was going to happen today.

A woman’s sixth sense was sometimes frighteningly accurate.

In the middle of the afternoon recording, He Lu took a phone call. After hanging up, his expression was difficult. Without even saying hello, he left directly, saying there was an emergency.

On the return journey, Fu Xueli sat by the window with Ji Qinqin beside her. The two randomly chatted about this and that. Ji Qinqin was like a social butterfly—her phone messages were constant. After casually replying, she suddenly lowered her voice.

“Do you know? Something just happened.”

Fu Xueli remained unruffled, nodded, and out of politeness asked back, “What happened?”

Ji Qinqin leisurely licked her lips, brought her hand to Fu Xueli’s ear, and said mysteriously, “Ming Heqi committed suicide.”

?!!!

Fu Xueli froze, her heart skipping a beat in alarm. Her first reaction was, “How is that possible?”

Ji Qinqin smiled with curved lips. “Why would I lie to you?”

“She was rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment?”

“She’s dead.”

Watching Fu Xueli’s expression change from surprise to astonishment, then gradually to disbelief, Ji Qinqin remained calm and composed. Tilting her head to look at Fu Xueli, she said seriously, “She committed suicide by slitting her wrists.”

“He Lu is going to have trouble. You should be careful too.”