A week later, “Ta Says” aired. Thanks to effective pre-broadcast promotion, compelling hooks, and the handsome faces of the Teng brothers—Teng Yi and Teng Hao—supporting the show, it achieved the highest ratings and streaming numbers in its time slot, breaking the show’s previous viewing records.
Netizens were satisfied with Ruan Yu’s substitute hosting, widely expressing that her hosting style was more natural than Ying Wen’s, and her interactions with guests were more entertaining.
“Without comparison, there’s no harm. Ying Wen is too stiff, she can’t relax in front of celebrity guests. Every question she asks is so cautious, like a servant girl speaking to the emperor.”
“Ruan Yu surpasses her predecessor. Her performance completely overshadows Ying Wen. Why not let Ruan Yu host ‘Ta Says’ from now on?”
These two comments received the most likes on the show’s official blog. When Assistant Xiu Xiu shared the audience feedback with Ruan Yu, it made her uncomfortable. Perhaps the netizens simply wanted to express their admiration, but this method of praising one while criticizing another truly damaged the harmony between both parties.
Ruan Yu worried that the online comments would affect Ying Wen, so she took the initiative to call her. Fortunately, Ying Wen was experienced and had grown accustomed to such baseless comparisons. She said she wouldn’t take it to heart and told Ruan Yu not to worry about it either, which finally put Ruan Yu at ease.
The show’s popularity created not only comparisons between TG’s two female hosts but also another hot topic: the return of street dance legend Teng Yi.
During the Captain Battle six years ago, Teng Yi had risen to fame in one fell swoop. Although six years had passed, his name had never been erased from many people’s hearts. His return to the public eye was like a small surprise, stirring countless sighs and memories.
Of course, for everyone who remembered him, others had never heard of him.
These people were curious about who Teng Yi was and why, despite his brief appearance on the show—far less screen time than Teng Hao—his popularity exceeded the main character’s.
Thus, Teng Yi’s die-hard fans began tirelessly educating others, and the video of his five consecutive victories in the Captain Battle quickly spread across various social media and video platforms.
Classics are called classics because they seem impossible to surpass at any time.
Teng Yi became popular again.
Ruan Yu wasn’t sure if passively pushing him back into memories from six years ago was a good thing. After all, the current Teng Yi had already shed his former brilliance. Perhaps for him, running a bar and living in obscurity was a form of peace.
While “Ta Says” was still trending, Wang Jing contacted Ruan Yu.
Wang Jing now worked at First Central Radio Station. Before graduation, his dream was the same as Ruan Yu’s—to become a host. However, after graduation, he faced setbacks in job hunting due to his appearance. Although society had no written rule against overweight people becoming hosts, during interviews, no interviewer was willing to discover his exceptional hosting talent beneath his heavy exterior.
This was the cruel reality.
It was the same with dating and job hunting.
“Looking good isn’t enough” was just a humble statement made by attractive people.
After repeated failures and attempts, Wang Jing painfully gave up his dream of being an on-camera host and became a behind-the-scenes hero. He was now the production director of the variety department at First Central Radio, responsible for their entertainment programs.
A few years ago, after the success of his programs—”Father’s Father,” which explored intergenerational education, and the innovative food show “How to Become a Kitchen God”—Wang Jing’s name gradually gained weight in the variety show circle.
Many colleagues called him the God of Variety Shows, but while ascending to godhood was easy, maintaining that position was difficult. The excessive external attention and expectations became invisible pressure for Wang Jing. He began to act cautiously, considering everything from all angles. These concerns pushed him into a vicious cycle, and after that, as if cursed, every show he produced failed.
Abuse and mockery came in waves.
Public opinion showed no mercy to the gods.
During that period, Wang Jing often sought out Ruan Yu for drinks. When drunk, he would break down crying, then mumble endlessly, just like back in the cafeteria days when girls rejected him for being too fat—feeling wronged and unwilling to accept it.
“Ruan Ruan, what should I do? I don’t even know what kind of show to plan anymore. I feel like everyone’s holding megaphones, just waiting for my show to air so they can predict its failure.”
“No one has that much free time,” Ruan Yu cut to the chase. “You’re like this because you’re under too much pressure and haunted by your demons. Take a break, relax for a while, maybe things will get better.”
“No, I can’t think of content for the next show. I can’t even sleep, how can I relax?” He clung to her childishly. “Give me some inspiration, anything will do. Right now, even stepping in dog poop and looking at the pattern it makes would be more creative than my shows.”
“…”
Ruan Yu wanted to help Wang Jing. During that time, she watched many variety shows and discovered that domestic variety shows were truly diverse and competitive, covering all kinds of themes. Innovation was indeed difficult.
But there was no street dance show.
“Street dance! Wang Jing, street dance!”
One word awakened the dreamer.
“Ruan Ruan, you’re brilliant! How didn’t I think of that? Street dance—handsome guys and beautiful girls dancing on stage, just thinking about it is exciting!”
From then on, Wang Jing began planning the show.
The show was tentatively titled “Street Dance Fanatic,” planning to invite four major domestic street dance brands, with brand founders leading teams to compete for the supreme honor in the street dance circle.
The first brand invited to “Street Dance Fanatic” was “L,” the largest street dance brand in the country. Its founder, Luo Sheng, initially didn’t want to participate in such variety shows—after all, he didn’t need the exposure, being the son of Asian Dance King Luo Han and having lived in the spotlight since birth.
Later, when he heard that variety show producer Wang Jing was Ruan Yu’s friend, he immediately agreed.
“Ruan Yu’s friends are my friends.”
Wang Jing was moved to tears by Ruan Yu, treating her like his savior.
“Ruan Ruan, if I didn’t know your heart belonged to someone else, I would offer myself to you.”
“Fortunately, my heart does belong to someone else.”
“…”
Wang Jing was used to being teased by Ruan Yu and normally wouldn’t contact her unless necessary. This sudden contact must mean he’d encountered another problem.
“Ruan Ruan, help!”
“Speak normally.”
“I wanted to invite Teng Yi to join my variety show, but he refused. Please help me talk to him!”
“Why me?”
“Aren’t you and he…”
“We’re what?”
“Classmates.”
“You’re his classmate too.”
“I’m a male classmate, female classmates are easier to talk to.”
“Get lost.”
“Ruan Ruan, help! If you don’t help me, I’ll ask you out for drinks every day!”
“…”