Chapter 20 – Soup and the Imperial Harem Selection

Zhuang Lin’s new album release was scheduled for the end of the year. Guan Lan did the math and felt the timeline was quite relaxed, so he could temporarily set Zhuang Lin aside for now.

Earlier, while Guan Lan was busy with Zhuang Lin’s affairs, ‘Next Stop: King of Songs’ announced its second season. The auditions were in full swing, and the deputy director of Star TV kept calling Guan Lan every other day to invite him for a get-together. Guan Lan knew this meant they wanted him back for the second season.

If it were just about being a judge as before, he might have accepted. But from what the deputy director was hinting, the second season was shifting to a mentor system, and Guan Lan wasn’t keen on that.

Why follow trends when the show was fine as it was?

Guan Lan: “Director Wu, I’m a songwriter, not a singer. Being a judge is one thing, but how could I be a mentor? Let’s forget it.”

Deputy Director: “We’re adopting a dual system—judges are judges, mentors are mentors. They’re not the same thing. We’ll also be inviting singers to be mentors separately.”

Guan Lan: “So you’re saying I not only have to critique the contestants but also the mentors?”

Deputy Director: “Hahaha, the focus will still be on evaluating the contestants.”

Guan Lan understood—this was a thankless job.

Guan Lan: “What qualifications do I have? The mentors are all older than me. How am I supposed to criticize them?”

Deputy Director: “No, no, our mentor lineup is younger this time. They’re all people you’ve scolded in the recording studio—no older folks.”

Guan Lan didn’t want to argue that he didn’t scold people in the studio, but something about this didn’t sit right with him.

Guan Lan: “Can I ask how many judges there will be?”

Deputy Director: “Just you. If you don’t come, the show will be in trouble.”

Guan Lan: “…”

Guan Lan really wanted to say, “Find someone else.” But Yang Peining directly gave him an order—he then found out that the show was a joint production between Tianlong and the TV station, and all the selected talents would sign with Tianlong. He’d likely have to oversee their albums and write songs for them. This time, being a judge wasn’t just about being a professional musician; he was also representing the company in selecting talent.

When the boss speaks, what can a mere employee do? He had no choice but to agree.

The competition format was roughly as follows: Each mentor would lead eight contestants, totaling thirty-two, and there would be live elimination rounds. The scoring system consisted of thirty points: ten from the live audience, ten from online voting, and ten from Guan Lan.

When this format was announced online, netizens were speechless.

Since all four mentors had worked with Guan Lan to some extent, they preemptively labeled the show: “The Four Palace Consorts Training Beauties for the Emperor’s Selection.” The promotional poster for ‘Next Stop: King of Songs’ was even photoshopped to read, “Next Stop: Empress.”

After the first live elimination episode aired, everyone agreed: the show was unique. The four consorts and their court ladies vying for the emperor’s favor—creative and worth following.

Zhuang Lin hadn’t expected that while he was holed up at home honing his cooking skills, Guan Lan was out there spreading his charm and expanding his harem.

Zhuang Lin felt a deep sense of crisis. A large number of rivals wasn’t the problem; the issue was that the number of his rivals was a function that increased over time.

The new beauties all looked dazzling, and the four consorts were no pushovers. Zhuang Lin gradually sobered up from the dreamy high of being in love, realizing he had only upgraded from sweeping the streets to guarding the palace gates—seemingly closer, but still outside.

But it was fine. He still had his bone broth.

Zhuang Lin couldn’t hold back and brought the soup over the next day.

He felt his skills weren’t fully polished yet, but they were good enough to show off. It should earn a “smells great” from Guan Lan.

The key to using food as a strategy wasn’t to make a splash but to be consistent and build a habit, making sure the other person felt something was missing if they didn’t have it every day. That was the goal.

When he arrived at the office, he caught Guan Lan about to open a takeout box—perfect timing.

Guan Lan looked up as he entered. “What’s up?”

When their eyes met, Zhuang Lin’s heart tightened, and his words came out differently than intended: “This is… my mom’s cooking. She’s been visiting me these past few days and made this especially for you. She wanted me to thank you properly.”

Guan Lan was pleased. “That’s so thoughtful of her. Please thank her for me. Cantonese-style soup? I’m in for a treat.”

Zhuang Lin felt a mix of happiness and bitterness as Guan Lan took the soup. “I watched last night’s show.”

Guan Lan: “Huh? Which show? Oh, ‘Next Stop: King of Songs.’ I haven’t had time to check the comments yet. What did you think?”

Zhuang Lin: “It felt like the first episode of a palace drama—an imperial harem selection.”

Guan Lan burst out laughing. “You must’ve seen the online comments. Whenever I’m in a show, they start this ‘harem’ thing. It’s pretty funny.”

Zhuang Lin thought to himself, Not funny at all.

Zhuang Lin: “Doesn’t it bother you, them saying things like that about you?”

Guan Lan: “Bother me? ‘Sleeping through the Chinese music industry’ sounds pretty impressive, doesn’t it?”

Zhuang Lin: “…Didn’t they say you slept with half the Chinese music industry? Is it half or the whole thing?”

Guan Lan laughed. “Not half, maybe thirty percent.”

Oh, so he’s slept with thirty percent of the Chinese music industry—excluding me.

Zhuang Lin felt like he was about to have a heart attack.

Zhuang Lin went home and rewatched the episode, feeling low and adrift.

Coming down from the irrational high of infatuation, all that remained was boundless unease.

He looked at Guan Lan on TV and thought, He’s so good, of course I’m not the only one who sees it. But what can I do about it?

When Qi Fei came to see Zhuang Lin, she found him watching Guan Lan with a sour expression.

Qi Fei: “Weren’t you getting along well with him recently? Why are you all gloomy again?”

Zhuang Lin didn’t answer, watching as Zhou Junzhuo and Guan Lan interacted on screen. “Sister, what’s their relationship?”

Qi Fei thought Zhuang Lin’s childhood trauma-induced moral purity was acting up again and sighed. “I don’t know.”

Zhuang Lin: “They must’ve been together. Even if they’re not now, they were before.”

Qi Fei: “How can you tell?”

Zhuang Lin: “Since it’s half the Chinese music industry, it’d be weird if Zhou Junzhuo wasn’t included—”

Qi Fei, of course, knew the “half the Chinese music industry” joke and thought Zhuang Lin was definitely overthinking it.

Qi Fei: “Alright, turn off the TV. Let me educate you.”

Qi Fei: “Lesson one of surviving the entertainment industry: judge people with your own eyes. I used to think Guan Lan wasn’t a decent guy, but now that I’m in the same company, interacting with him, his team, and his subordinates, my impression of him has changed. You’ve interacted with him way more than I have. Forget all those rumors and tell me, based on your own feelings, what kind of person is he? Do you really think he’s that terrible?”

Zhuang Lin thought, Not as terrible as half the Chinese music industry, but thirty percent—he told me that himself.

Qi Fei: “Guan Lan is young, with no background or connections, and he’s fought his way to where he is now—”

Zhuang Lin: “I know, he’s capable and talented.”

Qi Fei: “Exactly, but that’s not my point. He’s young, with no backing, not even thirty, and he’s reached such a high position. Think about it—how many people must hate him?”

Zhuang Lin’s eyes widened in surprise.

Qi Fei: “Take your good brother Li Yanyao, for example. You know what he’s like, right? How many girls has he hooked up with? But have you ever seen a single news story about him being a womanizer?”

Qi Fei: “Do you really think Guan Lan is the dirtiest, most promiscuous person in the industry? That no one is more reckless or absurd than him? But look—how many people have a worse reputation than him? Have you thought about why that is?”

Qi Fei: “You’ve just… had it too easy, seeing everything as rosy and positive, full of good vibes. I didn’t want to bring up these ugly truths, but since you’re in this industry, you’ll encounter them sooner or later. Think about what I’ve said.”

——————————————————————

Guan Lan was completely unaware of the turmoil in Zhuang Lin’s heart. He just thought Zhuang Lin’s soup was delicious.

Coincidentally, Chen Jin was staying at his place these days—because “Yang Peiqing has been acting so damn weird lately, I had to come here to hide for a few days”—so the two of them shared the soup.

Chen Jin: “Wanna bet? That soup definitely wasn’t made by his mom.”

Guan Lan: “Bet it was. Why would he lie about that? Older folks are more traditional; they’d make food to give as gifts. If he made it himself, that’d be weirder.”

Chen Jin: “Come on, Zhuang Lin’s twenty-four. His mom’s probably around fifty, not even retired yet. Who does something so old-fashioned these days? Even if he sees you as a mentor or a benefactor and wants to give you a gift, any family with a bit of social etiquette wouldn’t give something like this. Think about it—if you suddenly decided to bring a pot of braised pork trotters to your boss or mentor, wouldn’t your mom slap you silly?”

Guan Lan: “…People are different, moms are different. Maybe his mom just has a simple, down-to-earth style.”

Chen Jin: “Let me tell you, I’ve never misjudged anyone. Zhuang Lin clearly comes from a respectable family. His mom wouldn’t do something like this—it’s probably him.”

Guan Lan: “If it’s him, that’s even weirder.”

Chen Jin smirked: “I don’t think it’s weird at all. Hmm, Zhuang Lin’s got some skills.”

The last bowl was snatched by Chen Jin, leaving Guan Lan a bit unhappy. He started picking a fight: “I’m not kicking you out, but if you keep staying, I’m charging rent.”

Chen Jin: “What about friendship? Is your friendship worth so little?”

Guan Lan: “It’s mostly for emotional damages. If you stay here, Yang Peiqing will definitely find out the next day. I just told him we’re completely over, so this makes things awkward. I’m constantly getting glared at—it’s stressful.”

Chen Jin: “When did you tell him? Did you say anything else?”

Guan Lan said sincerely: “No, I told him the same thing I told you—that you two should sit down and talk it out. Nothing more.”

Chen Jin eyed him suspiciously but didn’t spot anything off.

Guan Lan asked with concern: “What’s wrong? What did he do this time?”

Chen Jin hesitated: “He… I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s insisting I top him, saying if I don’t, it means I look down on him.”

Chen Jin: “Has he changed his orientation? Is he a bottom now?”

Guan Lan slowly leaned on the table, hugging the thermos, and started shaking with laughter.

At that moment, he felt that all the trouble he’d endured from being dragged into this problematic couple’s drama was worth it.