The wrestling competition came to an end, with the female streamer team emerging victorious, while Pei Yue's team and Sun Yuanni's team secured second and third place respectively in the subsequent challenges.
As dusk settled in, today's recording session drew to a close.
Since the filming would span two days, and there might be unexpected wake-up tasks tomorrow, all the show's guests were staying overnight at the hotel provided by the production crew.
Ding Ze messaged Gu Ran on WeChat, asking how the day's recording had gone. Gu Ran replied that she thought it went well—she had completed all the games earnestly, and her teammates were all very nice.
Ding Ze sent a "Keep it up.jpg" sticker.
After replying to the message, Gu Ran was about to board the production crew's minibus back to the hotel when the assistant director informed her that someone from her company had arrived.
Someone from her company?
But Ding Ze was still chatting with her on WeChat, wasn’t he?
Gu Ran followed the direction the assistant director indicated and saw Xu Hui walking toward her first. "Miss Gu," he greeted.
Gu Ran: "..."
In a way, he was from her company—technically not wrong?
She glanced back at the busy crew members packing up equipment nearby, then shot Ji Shiyu an indignant look. "What are you doing here?"
Ji Shiyu took a step closer, inhaling as if he wanted to say something, but ultimately settled on, "Does your leg still hurt?"
Gu Ran froze for a moment before instinctively shifting her left foot.
Yan Zhun hadn’t meant to, but the force of a grown man kicking her shin during the fall had genuinely hurt.
She averted her gaze uncomfortably. "None of your business."
Ji Shiyu crouched down, lifting the hem of Gu Ran’s pants to reveal a red mark on her shin.
It would likely bruise by tomorrow.
His brows furrowed slightly.
Gu Ran immediately stepped back, yanking her pant leg down. "What are you doing?"
"Ran Ran," Ji Shiyu stood up, calling her name softly.
He felt a pang of helplessness, then recalled the scene of her tumbling with that male contestant earlier, his expression darkening again.
Xu Hui stood a couple of meters away, watching the usually formidable man appear almost meek in front of her. He quietly turned his head aside.
Clearly seething with jealousy earlier, yet now, standing before the little princess, he couldn’t even let it show for fear of upsetting her.
Gu Ran brushed off her pants. "Did you need something? If not, I’m leaving."
She turned around just as Du Li approached her.
"Xiao Ran," Du Li called out cheerfully, pausing when he noticed the young man standing beside her.
Gu Ran’s heart sank. She was about to explain when Du Li simply smiled and said, "The director’s treating everyone to dinner tonight. I came to let you know."
He didn’t ask who Ji Shiyu was or inquire about their relationship.
Gu Ran was surprised by his lack of curiosity but nodded. "Sounds good."
"Let’s go," she said, casting one last glance at Ji Shiyu before walking off with Du Li.
Ji Shiyu watched their retreating figures, exhaling heavily.
"Xu Hui," he said, eyes still fixed on Gu Ran’s back.
Xu Hui stepped forward immediately. "Yes, Mr. Ji?"
Ji Shiyu: "Don’t let her drink."
Xu Hui nodded. "Understood."
...
The director’s dinner was held at the hotel restaurant where everyone was staying. Aside from Sun Yuanni, who had left right after filming with her manager, all the other guests were present.
Most of them had known each other for years and quickly fell into lively conversation, with Gu Ran chiming in occasionally.
The director ordered two bottles of strong liquor. Gu Ran frowned when the waiter brought them out.
Her alcohol tolerance was notoriously poor—not quite "one sip and she’s out," but close.
And every time she drank, trouble seemed to follow.
The first time, she hadn’t even been drunk but pretended to be, sobbing messily on Ji Shiyu’s shoulder. The most recent was at Nancheng Manor, where she’d gotten herself wasted celebrating what she thought was an impending marriage—only for Ji Shiyu to show up unexpectedly, bending her into every conceivable position all night. The next morning, the heartless man left for work without so much as a goodbye, and soon after, she received the news that Qin Wenyi wasn’t dead—her life’s greatest humiliation.
Her expression twisted with conflict as she searched for an excuse to avoid drinking. But before she could speak, the director looked up at the waiter and said, "This is strong stuff. Let’s skip the alcohol for the ladies tonight—orange juice instead."
The waiter nodded. "Of course."
Gu Ran glanced up, meeting the director’s smile. "Though if you want to drink, I won’t stop you," he added.
She shook her head vigorously. "Thank you, Director."
The male cast members exchanged surprised looks. They’d dined with female guests many times before, but never had the director outright exempted them from drinking before the meal even started.
Still, since he’d said so, no one questioned it. It was a professional gathering anyway—alcohol wasn’t mandatory.
The dinner stretched late, ending around nine.
With another day of filming ahead, everyone returned to their rooms to rest.
Gu Ran walked down the hallway to her room when her phone rang—an unfamiliar number.
She answered to hear Ji Shiyu’s voice. "Are you done?"
She’d never known him to be this persistent. "Yes," she replied.
Ji Shiyu: "There’s ointment in your room. Apply it to your leg before sleeping."
She swiped her keycard and entered, spotting a box of bruise-relief cream on the coffee table.
She puffed her cheeks. "Thanks."
...
The second day of Stars Charge Forward was even more packed than the first. Gu Ran was still asleep when a group burst into her room. She sat up in bed, hair tousled, rubbing her bleary eyes as a camera lens stared back at her.
No wonder the assistant director texted last night reminding me to wear proper pajamas.
Still groggy, she let the opposing team style her hair and apply makeup, only snapping fully awake when she saw her utterly transformed reflection in the mirror.
True to its description as a "large-scale outdoor sports reality show for celebrities," the program had Gu Ran and her two teammates running, jumping, and tumbling through mud pits all day, getting launched into the pool by spring-loaded chairs countless times. The trio—a gentle chubby singer, a comedian known for slapstick, and a bold-thinking female streamer—might not have had the physical edge, but their resilience and comedic timing forced the scriptwriters to revise the plot repeatedly.
In the final round, the underestimated third team—the streamer squad—claimed victory.
A group photo later, the two-day filming wrapped at last.
Most artists had professional teams and assistants waiting, departing in their private vans.
Gu Ran was picked up by Ding Ze. She collapsed into the car seat with a long sigh. "I’m exhausted."
Stepping out of her comfort zone at Cat Paw was way too draining.
Ding Ze chuckled. "That’s how it is. Definitely not as easy as livestreaming."
The AC hummed inside the car. Gu Ran sniffled, then suddenly sneezed.
Ding Ze glanced at her. "You okay?"
"I don't know." Gu Ran rubbed her nose. "I got thrown into the swimming pool seven times today."
"The water was so cold. I might have caught a cold."
Ding Ze was visibly surprised when he heard Gu Ran had been thrown into the pool seven times. He knew about this segment: "Why were you the one thrown in? What about the other two guys on your team?"
Gu Ran: "Because neither of them can swim."
Ding Ze: "..."
He couldn’t help but pity Gu Ran inwardly.
"Then how come you can swim?" Ding Ze asked again. "Didn’t you say your athletic skills are only slightly better than your gaming skills?"
Gu Ran deadpanned: "My old school had a rule—you couldn’t graduate if you didn’t know how to swim."
"I almost drowned learning it."
Ding Ze sucked in a breath when he heard Gu Ran refer to the prestigious "Yingde International"—a school countless nouveau riche would kill to get into—as a "crummy school." "Take some cold medicine when you get home," he said.
Gu Ran returned home and collapsed onto the sofa, rubbing her sore shoulders and back after a full day of gaming.
She wasn’t streaming today, probably too exhausted from filming the show all day. As she sat there, she felt herself growing sleepier and sleepier, so she pulled a small blanket over herself and dozed off right there on the sofa.
The sleep was heavy and disorienting.
When she woke up, it was completely dark outside, the city illuminated by countless lights.
Gu Ran opened her eyes again, her head pounding, her whole body weak, her eyes and forehead throbbing painfully.
She tried to clear her throat and found it parched, as if on fire.
Gu Ran reached up and touched her forehead.
Even she could tell—she was definitely running a fever.
She pushed the blanket aside and slowly sat up, taking her time to process the fact that she was sick.
Probably from being thrown into the pool so many times, plus the exhaustion of the past few days.
Struggling to her feet, Gu Ran shuffled to the kitchen to boil some water, then carried the cup back to the sofa.
Her little home had everything she needed—except medicine.
Nowadays, delivery apps didn’t just bring food—they could also deliver medicine. With her head still throbbing, Gu Ran ordered some fever reducers and a thermometer on her phone.
Then she noticed Ding Ze had texted her.
"Did you take the cold medicine? You’re not sick, are you?"
Gu Ran replied: "I think I have a fever."
When you’re feverish, your energy plummets. Gu Ran had no desire to move or do anything. After placing the order, she just sat blankly on the sofa, too drained to even check her phone, waiting for the delivery person to knock.
About twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang.
It was the delivery guy.
Gu Ran took the package, used the thermometer to check her temperature.
38.7°C.
Her eyelids burned so much she could barely keep them open.
She popped two fever-reducing pills with water, only for the doorbell to ring again.
Who could it be this time?
Wobbly, she made her way to the door and peeked through the peephole.
Then she opened it, her voice weak: "What are you doing here so late?"
Ji Shiyu took in Gu Ran’s flushed, feverish face.
...
"No hospital."
In her room, Gu Ran lay curled under the blankets, rolling away from Ji Shiyu’s attempts to take her to the hospital.
She now regretted letting him in—but she didn’t have the energy to fight him.
Ji Shiyu had no way to deal with the blanket-burrito that was Gu Ran, nor did he want to force her and make things worse. So he stepped out to the balcony to make a call.
Soon after, Gu Ran, still dazed, saw another figure standing by her bed.
This person was dressed in white.
The sight of the white coat snapped Gu Ran a little more awake.
It was the Ji family’s private doctor.
The doctor exchanged a few words with Ji Shiyu before pulling out a stethoscope to examine Gu Ran.
Just moments ago, Gu Ran had been thrashing around, refusing to go to the hospital. Now, faced with a white-coated physician, she instantly turned small, pitiful, and helpless.
Some people have an innate fear of those in white coats. Gu Ran had been terrified of them since childhood—seeing one usually meant getting a shot. As a kid, she’d bawled every time, no amount of hugs, kisses, or lollipops from her dad making it better.
After taking her temperature and checking her over, the doctor put away the stethoscope and said to Ji Shiyu: "Let’s give her a shot. We’ll see tomorrow if the fever breaks."
Ji Shiyu glanced at Gu Ran, who had turned docile the moment the doctor arrived, and nodded. "Alright."
Gu Ran: ?
A shot???
"I don’t want—" Gu Ran started to protest as she saw the doctor prepare the syringe, but one stern look from him shut her up.
Ji Shiyu sat at the head of the bed.
The doctor finished preparing the injection and pulled back Gu Ran’s blanket.
Ji Shiyu hauled Gu Ran’s upper body onto his lap.
Before she could react, her backside was exposed to the cold air—then came the sharp sting.
"Mm!" She clutched Ji Shiyu’s clothes tightly.
The medicine was slowly pushed in.
The pain even jolted Gu Ran awake, tears welling in her eyes. She wanted to bolt but didn’t dare, terrified the needle might snap off inside her.
It felt like an eternity.
Finally, the doctor withdrew the needle. "Done."
He placed a small bandage over the spot, gave a few instructions, then nodded at Ji Shiyu before leaving.
Ji Shiyu: "Go ahead."
Gu Ran’s backside still ached. Only when she heard the door close behind the doctor did the tension from her white-coat phobia begin to ease.
Then she realized she was still sprawled across Ji Shiyu’s lap.
She felt him tug her pajama pants back up, covering her no-longer-chilly backside.
A soft "whimper" escaped her.
Ji Shiyu, having adjusted her clothes, heard Gu Ran crying.
"It’s over. He’s gone," he soothed, assuming she was still scared of the doctor.
But Gu Ran kept sniffling softly.
Frowning, Ji Shiyu asked: "What’s wrong?"
Tears glistening in her eyes, Gu Ran had never felt so sore and wronged in her life:
"You saw my butt."
Ji Shiyu: "..."
