Chapter 1394 - 1390: He Only Responds to Seduction
Chloe picked up the key with the show’s logo and didn’t think much of it, just casually shoved it into her pocket. She thought it was some careless staffer’s and planned to hand it in after filming. Now they’re saying they need a key?
The cameraman following them was still livestreaming, and the live chat was already flooded with rows and rows of 666666.
"This little miss is totally born lucky, like a walking koi..."
"Hahahaha, curious if the production secretly opened a back door for her. How can such an important key just be picked up off the ground?"
"Where’s the promised guest-torture, huh? Weren’t you gonna rub them into the dirt?"
The viewers were delighted. When people watch variety shows, they basically project themselves into the guests’ perspective. Watching the guests stomp the production team is like watching themselves turn the tables and break out. Everyone was hyped.
Since Chloe had picked up a key, everyone decided to go try it in the underground air-raid shelter. Naturally, the key ended up being handed over to the team’s strongest member, Constantine.
Constantine raised his brows, his refined, fair features tinged with amusement. When he took the key from the little girl’s hand, his fingers brushed against her soft, pale ones—slightly ticklish, like a cat’s little paw pad scratching him. Her big dark eyes were dewy as she looked at him, sweet and obedient.
Mr. Stewart’s lips quirked slightly. Fine, he’d bring this bunch of deadweights along for fun. What could he do—Chloe Winston was pretty. He only accepted seduction by beauty.
So the group set off toward the underground air-raid shelter, not even leaving a single lookout. It was naked, blatant contempt for the production team.
"Why did you give the key to Constantine?" Desmond pressed close to Chloe, chattering, "You found it, you should be the one to open it. How can you let someone else steal the spotlight?"
Chloe looked at Desmond with a blank, cute expression, then patted her own cheeks. Ugh, servile instinct. Years of being dominated by powerful bosses had made her hand the key over to Constantine without even thinking.
"Pfft, you’re really adorable." Desmond reached out and ruffled her soft hair, pulling off a classic head-pat kill.
"Wow, everyone’s-baby sister! Desmond patting her is seriously too sweet."
"So this is how cute you are, Miss. What happened to the vicious, one-woman wrecking crew we were promised?"
"A goddess who can be both cool and cute, I’m obsessed with you~"
In the angle the livestream didn’t catch, a man as clear-cut and elegant as jade narrowed his eyes and shot Desmond a warning look, giving a cold snort. You dare pat my little kitten? Did you ask my permission?
Constantine used the key to unlock the iron door to the underground bunker, then grabbed a flashlight and found the power switch. A human-height smart machine was glowing faintly. The man turned back to the others, lips curling in a slight smile. "Two options. One, go home now and sleep. Two, go out, wipe the floor with the production team, then go home and sleep."
"Go out and roll up our sleeves against the production team."
"Yeah, let’s go out and wreck them."
Everyone made their stance clear. The three male guests didn’t even need to be asked—being trapped in a room for a full day and night had them so stifled they were dying to take down the production team.
Wendy also saw through it. This time the production team had been way too confident. They thought that as long as they trapped the four male guests, and with the female guests mostly being delicate celebrities with zero combat power, they didn’t need to take them seriously at all. But Constantine had broken out, and Chloe’s shooting was decent too, so the whole plan flipped on its head.
With the setup this team had, they could probably wipe out two production teams easy.
"Let’s go out and fight the production team," Wendy said excitedly.
"I’d like to apply to go home and sleep," Chloe raised her hand and said weakly. "Brothers and sisters, let’s leave the production team a little face, or who knows what they’ll do to us later."
So after Mr. Big Boss Stewart "consulted public opinion," he simply pressed his fingerprint on the verification machine. A flash of blue light later, authentication successful—they could travel back to the present.
Everyone was furious but didn’t dare speak. Then what the hell was the point of asking us to choose?
The man’s lips curved, his refined, jade-like face wearing a faint smile as he drawled, "I was just bored and asking. The survey results can’t change my decision."
Everyone: "..."
"Wooooow, Mr. Stewart being this domineering is making me nosebleed all over my screen."
"I love how you just don’t play fair!"
"Feels like Mr. Stewart chose going home to sleep totally for Miss’s sake, hehe~"
While all the face-fans in the livestream were busy screen-licking, the production staff were losing their minds. Daniel looked at the authentication device connected to his hand. It showed that guest authentication had succeeded and they’d already traveled back to the present. He practically spat a mouthful of old blood. He’d rented the location for three days! It had only been a day and a half and they’d gone home?
Can he get a refund? No, seriously, the production team’s face had been completely lost.
"Who? Who the hell lost that key?" Daniel roared like a lion.
Everyone tilted their heads back to look at the sky. The director himself, obviously. Nobody was taking this blame.
Amid this chaos, the recording of the third episode wrapped a day and a half early. Variety junkies everywhere were dumbfounded. What the hell—give us back our missing day and a half of livestream! Where was the promised epic 8 vs 50 showdown? It turned into the production team getting one-sidedly stomped?
The internet exploded with discussion, and netizens all flocked to the official Weibo to...feel sorry for the production team.
The shameless production team even posted on Weibo, rolling around and acting cute: "Begging for pats, begging for love~"
They flew back on the same private jet. Everyone was chatting and laughing when they arrived at the airport, only to see the only two eliminated female guests waiting in the small plane with pitch-black expressions.
Wendy remembered Chloe warning her not to go into the convenience store earlier and immediately gave her a big thumbs up. As expected of a big boss.
Chloe smiled. Seeing Roy Irene’s cold, sinister gaze on her, she acted as if she hadn’t noticed. At first, she’d indeed joined this show because of Roy Irene. But this survival-themed variety show had opened another door in her life. Each episode was a challenge, and every time she completed one, she defeated herself once more, freeing the girl who’d been trapped in a dark corner, crying in inferiority.
For the first time, Chloe realized that even without Constantine, she could live just fine.
After returning to the Imperial City, Chloe remembered she’d promised Leah Squire she’d do volunteer work at the Literary Arts Hall. After resting for one night, she put on a simple white T-shirt and a blue pleated skirt the next day and headed there in high spirits.
Leah Squire’s Literary Arts Hall had only been open a few days and hadn’t started any publicity yet. Only people in elite circles knew about it. Even so, when Chloe arrived, it was already quite crowded. Everyone lined up in order, scanning their ID cards to enter. The security personnel all had sharp eyes and full gear. Thinking of the man backing Leah—Richard Shaw—Chloe instantly understood these people were likely all ex-military. After all, as the hall’s director, Leah would often come by in person, and the future Vice Admiral’s wife’s safety was no trivial matter.
Chloe found the receptionist at the front desk, took off her baseball cap, and said with a squinty-eyed smile, "Hi, I’m here to volunteer."
The receptionist saw her sweet, delicate face and instantly clapped a hand over her mouth in excitement. Ch–Chloe Winston?