You really get what you pay for with an 8,888-yuan wig—it looks incredibly real even up close. The makeup artist applied two layers of foundation to his face, lightly filled in his eyebrows, and then was at a loss for where to go next.
His eyelashes were so thick and lush, they looked as if they'd been lined with eyeliner and curled, making anyone who saw them up close blush with a racing heart. The makeup artist held his chin, studying him for a long time, but simply couldn't find anywhere that needed touching up.
In the end, she had no choice. Just like with Qi Qiqi, she hastily applied some lipstick and let him go.
This was Qiu Qiu's first time shooting for a magazine, and under the camera's gaze, he didn't know what to do with his hands and feet. He was the only contestant there who wore his clothes properly and neatly. The oversized T-shirt hung loosely on him, as if he'd stolen Teacher Qiu's clothes to wear.
Not only that, he was particularly bad at posing. When the dark lens pointed at him, all he knew was to flash a peace sign. Even Qi Qiqi knew more poses than him.
Back when Qiu Qiu had just started university and went shopping, he was stopped eight times by street photographers from different websites while walking from one end of the commercial street to the other. This left him with a psychological shadow whenever he saw a DSLR camera.
The photographer guided him through a series of actions like jumping, turning, and acting cool, but none were satisfactory. Unwilling to waste such a handsome face, the photographer thought for a moment and said, "Take off your top and take a shot with the guitar on your back."
Qiu Qiu: "...Can I not take it off?"
The photographer chuckled: "You're not a young girl, what are you afraid of showing some skin for?"
Qiu Qiu said gloomily: "...If my godfather finds out, he definitely won't let me sleep tonight."
The term "godfather" did make the photographer's thoughts stray for a second, but seeing Qiu Qiu's completely innocent expression and his childlike mannerisms, the photographer mentally mocked himself: The kid's talking about a proper familial relationship. I've been in this circle too long, my mind's too dirty, hearing 'godfather' and immediately thinking of a sugar daddy.
The photographer joked, "Your family rules are too strict. When you become a big star in the future, you'll definitely have to take wet look photos, sexy photos. Selling sex appeal is popular for men now too, you can't avoid it."
"I don't have time to be a star." Qiu Qiu didn't realize at all that he was revealing a shocking secret. "I plan to quit after the semi-finals, once I get the 50,000 yuan prize money."
"..."
"I checked the competition schedule. I have two exams on the day of the regional finals, and before that, I have three essays to hand in."
"..."
Qiu Qiu sighed: "Brother photographer, let's hurry up and finish shooting. Our faculty has a lecture on 'True and False Compound Words in Different Voices of Chinese' this afternoon, specially invited the chief editor from the Language and Culture Press to speak."
"..."
The photographer, assistant, and lighting technician were all dumbfounded. They had truly never seen a rising talent show star so devoid of worldly desires, so single-mindedly swimming in the ocean of knowledge.
Since Qiu Qiu refused to take off his clothes and couldn't pose well, the shoot was over quickly. Looking at the finished photos, the photographer sighed long and hard. In all his years in the profession, this was the first time he'd managed to turn a swan into a Psyduck.
Hua Xiang, who had finished his makeup earlier than Qiu Qiu, was still posing under another photographer's flash. He loved showing off, doing backflips and one-handed handstands, eliciting gasps and cheers from the watching staff. His five-thousand-yuan dreadlocks flew through the air, making him look like a dancing mop.
Hua Xiang started chattering again: "My family hired me a martial arts teacher since I was little, the tuition alone was 50,000 a month."
Sitting in the corner, Qi Qiqi crossed his arms, shaking his head as he commented: "If I were him, I'd stick all my shopping receipts on my body. Shoes cost this much, belt cost that much, hair cost this much..."
Qiu Qiu: "You can get a receipt for getting your hair done?"
"..." Qi Qiqi felt there was a generation gap between him and this uncle.
Qiu Qiu had always been slow on the uptake, never quite understanding how people should interact. For example, right before exam week, when classmates asked him how many times he'd reviewed, he'd honestly answer, "I don't need to review. After every class, I memorize the key points from that lecture." After exams, when others asked what score he expected, he'd mentally calculate and report a highly accurate, near-perfect score.
Qiu Qiu knew many people said he liked to show off his grades, but he was just stating the facts. If he was clearly well-prepared and did well, why should he make up lies like "I played video games all night and didn't study" or "I think I'm going to fail this time"?
Projecting from his own perspective, Qiu Qiu didn't realize at all that Hua Xiang was flaunting his wealth. He thought rich people just loved talking about money—like Fu Ruien, who was always reminding him about the 30.05 million debt.
...
After all the individual photos were taken, the staff gathered everyone for a group photo. Qiu Qiu, wanting to stay low-key, actively moved to stand in the back row, but was stopped by the assistant director who came to check on the shoot: "Qiu Qiu, you come to the front. Hua Xiang, you move to the side."
Hua Xiang, who had been standing right in the middle of the front row, was immediately displeased: "Assistant Director, why?"
The assistant director said impatiently, "Because your hair is tall, and because he's short."
Actually, Qiu Qiu wasn't that short by himself, but he was thin. His waist was barely two chi, and the oversized T-shirt tucked into his jeans made his shoulders look narrow and his waist slender. The other contestants present were either chubby or muscular; even Qi Qiqi was as plump as the Michelin Man. Compared to them, Qiu Qiu instantly became a scrawny bean sprout.
Hua Xiang's hairstyle was too prominent, blocking the faces of the contestants behind him. Reluctantly, he moved to the corner, pressing down on his hair as he walked.
Group photos are the hardest to shoot, especially for talent show group photos where everyone needs to look good and show their unique characteristics. One moment someone was sneezing, the next someone was blinking, and every now and then someone would change their pose... It took over an hour to finally finish one group photo.
Finally done for the day, everyone was eager to get home.
Qiu Qiu was the most anxious one. He was still waiting to go back and attend the lecture on "True and False Compound Words in Different Voices of Chinese." That lecture was super popular; if you went late, there wouldn't even be standing room left, you'd have to buy a "hanging ticket." In his hurry, he didn't even remove his makeup, just threw on his own clothes and headed out.
Hua Xiang, with sharp eyes, saw him leaving in a rush and offered: "I remember you came by car, right? Which way are you heading? I can give you a lift?"
Qiu Qiu was overjoyed: "Thank you, thank you! I'm going back to A University. Is it on your way? If not, just dropping me at the subway station is fine."
Hua Xiang slapped his thigh: "Oh my god, that's so damn coincidental! Alumni!"
Qiu Qiu was also pleasantly surprised. No wonder one of the ancient four great joys in life was meeting an old friend in a distant land. He never expected one of the top ten contestants to be his schoolmate. But with Hua Xiang's such "outstanding" appearance, he felt he shouldn't have missed seeing him before.
"You're also from A University?"
Hua Xiang: "Pretty much."
Qiu Qiu didn't understand. How could being alumni be "pretty much"?
Hua Xiang answered proudly: "I'm from A University's affiliated high school."
"...How old are you?"
"Twenty."
"Third year of high school?"
"This is my fifth year of high school," Hua Xiang admitted with rare embarrassment. "I'm an arts specialty student, so it's harder to get into college..."
They chatted as they walked out. Qiu Qiu had been on the fast track since childhood—top class in elementary school, honors class in middle school, advanced placement class in high school... Finally, when the "rocket" launched, he skipped the college entrance exams and went straight to university. Although he never took the gaokao himself, he'd heard how grueling it was, especially for arts students, where the hurdles were even higher.
On the way from the studio to the parking lot, the "alumni" connection made the two much closer.
Hua Xiang was an open book and said cheerfully, "Qiu Qiu, I've discovered you're fundamentally different from other top students."
"How so?"
"You don't look down on us struggling students."
Once they were more familiar, Hua Xiang became even less restrained, showing Qiu Qiu his gold chain, diamond watch, and as soon as they entered the parking lot, he whipped out his BMW key fob and twirled it. The logo on the key was huge, and Hua Xiang tossed it around, saying it was his twentieth birthday present.
He chattered on, but suddenly realized no one was responding behind him. He turned to find Qiu Qiu had stopped walking and was staring toward the road.
Following his gaze, Hua Xiang saw a luxurious, imposing silver-gray sports car roaring from the end of the street, kicking up clouds of dust and drawing everyone's attention.
Hua Xiang was utterly envious, practically drooling. "Whoa, an Aston Martin. Seriously rich... I wonder if my dad will buy me one when I get into college." Seeing Qiu Qiu still staring motionlessly at the car, he assumed, "You like cars too?"
Qiu Qiu shook his head, a hint of shyness on his face. "The only car brands I know are BMW, Mercedes-Benz, and Volkswagen..." It was rare to find a guy so clueless about cars.
"Then what are you looking at?"
"That... I think that car might be here to pick me up."
"...????"
Just as Qiu Qiu finished speaking, the Aston Martin drove right past them.
Hua Xiang: "...You might as well wish you were Cinderella, hoping your fairy godmother will conjure a pumpkin carriage, instead of expecting that car to pick you up."
Qiu Qiu didn't reply. He just tightened his grip on his guitar strap and stood by the roadside, gazing eagerly in the direction the car had gone. The corners of his mouth were upturned, the dimples in his cheeks deep enough to hold a jar of wine.
Hua Xiang tugged at him. "Alright, stop looking. You don't have to act so convincing; I won't make fun of you."
But Qiu Qiu stubbornly remained by the roadside, even telling Hua Xiang, "You don't need to see me off. Someone's picking me up."
Just as Hua Xiang was about to forcibly drag this delusional alumnus away, something unexpected happened—that luxurious, expensive, cool, high-end Aston Martin sports car actually turned around and came cruising back through the sunlight. It slowed down and finally stopped right in front of them.
The window rolled down. From the driver's seat, Fu Ruien squinted slightly, his gaze falling on Hua Xiang, whose hair was styled like a mop head.
Swept by that icy look, Hua Xiang's hand trembled, and he quickly let go of Qiu Qiu's sleeve.
Qiu Qiu had already forgotten the alumnus behind him. Like a kitten chasing a ball of yarn, he excitedly rushed to the car. "Godfather, where did you go just now? I've been waiting here for five minutes."
Fu Ruien casually took the guitar from him and placed it in the back seat, sighing helplessly. "There was an accident up ahead. It took forever to turn around."
Bystander Hua Xiang: "..." Damn, so my new friend really does have a fairy godfather?
