Chapter Fifty-Nine: Such Meticulousness

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#Lin Xing Visits the Set of “Learned Fathers and Mothers”#
#Lin Xing Treats the Whole “Learned Fathers and Mothers” Crew to Coffee and Milk Tea#
“#Guan Peng Wraps Filming for ‘Learned Fathers and Mothers,’ Lin Xing Makes a Surprise Appearance#”

As expected, less than six hours after Lin Xing’s set visit, the trending topics had already been lined up. The keywords were all more or less the same. Even though Guan Peng wasn’t officially finishing his scenes until tomorrow, the publicity today was already announcing his wrap. Flexibility was the name of the game.

“I have to say, that variety show ‘Farm Life with the Stars’ really brought several people back into the limelight. Lin Xing goes without saying, and Guan Peng truly owes his popularity to that show.”

“True, but Guan Peng and Ning Shuyan just don’t have that couple chemistry. Ning Shuyan may only be forty, but whether it’s her figure or her face—wow, she’s so well-preserved. But look at Guan Peng, and he really does resemble all those jokes about him being a kitchen hand.”

“Haha, you’re spot on. Actually, Ning Shuyan is better paired with a younger actor, since she has so much experience.”

“If Guan Peng were twenty years younger, he’d definitely be Ning Shuyan’s type.”

The trending topics were obviously paid for by “Learned Fathers and Mothers,” and with a few set-visit videos of Lin Xing released, discussion was inevitable. Lately, it seemed as though Lin Xing was a permanent fixture on the trending list. Earlier today, thanks to the pre-release buzz for “Fashion Men’s Style,” Lin Xing’s name was already trending, and before it even cooled down, “Learned Fathers and Mothers” pushed the #LinXingSetVisit# topic back up. All night long, he was right at the top.

The next day, Sister Dao simply instructed PR to keep an eye on things and let the rest say what they would. After all, Lin Xing was determined to move beyond the confines of fan culture. Just like the so-called sales numbers for “Fashion Men’s Style”—does anyone outside the fanbase actually care? Only the fans are obsessed with those statistics.

From Sister Dao’s perspective, what use is it if “Fashion Men’s Style” sells well? Only the fans see it as some sort of achievement. Well, in the fan world, it does have its uses—mainly when arguing about whose idol sells more. If Lin Xing had wanted to go down that path before, Sister Dao would have started hyping it up long ago. But now? Let them fight among themselves.

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For Lin Xing, just being on the cover of “Fashion Men’s Style” was enough. That alone proved his status—next time other magazines want to invite him, they’ll have to start from there. It’s like an endorsement. Take Dima Electric Cars, for instance; many believe the brand used Lin Xing to elevate its own profile.

Now that Lin Xing had landed the October silver cover of “Fashion Men’s Style,” doubts persisted. Fans questioned what made him worthy, and some speculated that since his fan club had disbanded, his sales would flop. Sister Dao couldn’t care less. Only fans believed sales defined an era.

Sitting in the car, Sister Dao checked the time and said, “Xiao Nan, go buy two orders of jianbing for Xing—he loves those.”

Xiao Nan nodded, “Alright, I’ll go now. Sister Dao, are we really just going to ignore what’s being said online? Some of it is really harsh.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let them talk.” Sister Dao shook her head and smiled. “The harder they try to bring him down, the more it proves Xing is popular. It just shows how threatened they feel.”

Fifteen minutes later, Lin Xing emerged from the villa.

“I have to admit, I really do like jianbing,” Lin Xing said, accepting the food from Xiao Nan with a smile. “Thank you, Xiao Nan.”

For him, an early morning jianbing, with two eggs, a sausage, and a packet of spicy sticks, was a real treat. Over the past ten years, during his charity work, there were occasions when Lin Xing learned the art of making jianbing from local vendors, sometimes even renting their carts to pedal himself to elementary schools and hand out jianbing for free.

Originally, Lin Xing had wanted to get an ice cream cart and give free ice cream to students, but for safety reasons, he abandoned the idea—after all, ice cream could upset children’s stomachs.

“That was already three years ago,” Lin Xing mused as he ate, sighing inwardly. Time truly flies. If he tried something like that now, he’d immediately be accused of putting on a show. Fame brings both advantages and disadvantages. You can’t have it all.

An hour later, he arrived at Smile Miwenhua.

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“Mr. Lin, welcome, welcome!”

As Lin Xing arrived at the recording site, Xie Ning—the host of “Comedy Means Laughter” and owner of Smile Miwenhua—stepped down from the stage to greet him. “We’ll do a quick pre-interview first, then we’ll film your whole process as you meet the group you’ll be assisting.”

The official recording was set for 10 a.m., so Lin Xing arrived at nine for the pre-interview and to shoot some additional material and behind-the-scenes footage for the episode.

After a brief chat with Xie Ning, Lin Xing was escorted by the production staff to the makeup room.

Before the pre-interview, he had his makeup done.

“Mr. Lin, here’s this episode’s script,” a staff member said, handing him the document.

Lin Xing glanced through it—it was thorough. So thorough, in fact, that it included not just the questions for the pre-interview but also his suggested answers. Then came the plan for him to meet the contestants, along with what he should say and how to introduce himself. Profiles of the contestants were attached, complete with photos.

How meticulous.

But this was not unusual for “Comedy Means Laughter.” Some artists—not just popular ones, but even seasoned actors—didn’t know what to do without a script. Especially those who had made it big—their lives were sometimes so detached from reality that they needed this level of guidance.

On reflection, it made sense.

So Lin Xing didn’t fault the show for being so thorough; he’d heard that some stations went even further for their scripts. By comparison, “Comedy Means Laughter” was quite considerate.

Makeup done, Lin Xing clipped on his microphone, and the pre-interview began.

Initially, the assistant director in charge of the pre-interview thought it would be routine—after all, the questions were standard, and the responses were typically formulaic.

What he didn’t expect was that Lin Xing answered the very first question without following the script at all.

The first question: “Xing, what made you want to come on this show?”

…