Salted Fish is a Rebellious Person – Chapter 03

The system asked hesitantly, “…Is that plausible?”

Xing Shi replied, “What else could it be? You said we don’t know each other at all.”

The system flipped through its database. “But you’re both from Z University. Maybe you did something immoral, and he happened to witness it. He didn’t recognize you at first glance, but after a closer look—wait, no, I’ve checked. There’s nothing.”

That left only Xing Shi’s explanation: Fu Xiuning had a fleeting appreciation for his appearance, followed by disdain.

The system couldn’t help but feel excited.

In recent years, Fu Xiuning’s mood swings had diminished significantly. Changes in his favorability value had become rare, especially within such a short time frame. While it now stood at -10, the fact that it had briefly risen by 1 was groundbreaking.

Over the years, no host had ever earned points from Fu Xiuning simply through their appearance. Not one!

This was a sign of potential.

If Fu Xiuning could set aside his initial bias, Xing Shi’s face alone could lead to bonus points—a jackpot in this bizarre game.

The system encouraged him: “If you go up to him and mention you’re a fellow Z University student, he might not dislike you as much. He might even warm up to you.”

Xing Shi said, “Really? I don’t buy it.”

The system sighed, frustrated. “So what’s your plan?”

“Cold salad,” Xing Shi replied.

The system blinked. “What does that even mean?”

“It means I’ve eaten too much and need to let my brain digest,” Xing Shi said nonchalantly.

The system: “…”

While they spoke, Feng Zifan and his friends approached Fu Xiuning. With friendly smiles, they asked for his name.

“Fu Xiuning,” he replied, his tone gentle and noble, perfectly matching his demeanor.

Feng Zifan introduced their group, mentioning that Xing Shi had been scouted internally. “Brother, were you scouted internally too?”

“Something like that,” Fu Xiuning replied.

Feng Zifan, ever eager, suggested, “You’re alone, right? Why not join us?”

Fu Xiuning’s lips curved slightly as he deflected, “I heard there are three practice rooms open. The classes are probably divided into three groups, each starting simultaneously.”

Feng Zifan paused, his expression subtle. “Really?”

Fu Xiuning nodded and strolled leisurely to the third floor.

The boys’ practice rooms were on the third floor, while the girls’ were on the fourth. As Fu Xiuning mentioned, there were three practice rooms, each with a sign indicating its class division.

After stepping inside one of the rooms, Feng Zifan and Dazhuang quickly excused themselves, heading for the restroom. Half of their group was gone in an instant.

Xing Shi, observing from the sidelines, finally spoke up. “I heard the re-evaluation was random, with participants entering whichever room was available. Will the afternoon class division be the same, letting us form our own groups, or will the company assign us?”

Fu Xiuning smiled faintly. “How should I know?”

Xing Shi asked the system and got his answer: the groups were already assigned, and participants were placed randomly.

He chuckled inwardly.

In the entertainment industry, connections were everything.

Feng Zifan and his friends had approached him to leverage his “pre-selected” status, hoping to include Fu Xiuning and secure an easier path to debut.

But Fu Xiuning had seen through their intentions and offered a subtle reality check: the groups were predetermined, rendering their efforts meaningless.

Xing Shi glanced at Fu Xiuning. When someone approaches you with ulterior motives, you cut through their pretense and render their schemes pointless. A bit of a mean streak, huh?

Fu Xiuning noticed his gaze and initiated a conversation. “What are you good at?”

“Eating,” Xing Shi replied matter-of-factly.

Fu Xiuning’s expression didn’t waver. “I meant singing and dancing.”

“Oh,” Xing Shi said. “I’m not good at either.”

Fu Xiuning’s soft smile remained, while the system panicked. “How can you tell your boss you’re not good at anything? Are you trying to ruin your chances?”

Xing Shi shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

“But you have me,” the system said confidently. “There’s a newbie lottery. You can roll for free, and if you’re lucky, you might get skill points to help. It’ll only be level one, though. Upgrades require points.”

Fu Xiuning’s interest piqued.

He had founded June Culture Media because he’d discovered that the “newbie lottery” prize pool adjusted based on his circumstances.

In fields requiring high expertise, level-one skill points had limited use. But in the entertainment industry, where a baseline level of talent sufficed, they were invaluable. Many praised June Culture’s artists for their “natural talent,” unaware it came from these skill points.

Now, Fu Xiuning waited to see what this new trainee would roll.

Xing Shi, curious about the system’s mechanisms, agreed. “Alright, let’s roll.”

[Newbie lottery initiated. Good luck!]

[Beep Beep]
[Congratulations! You’ve won: Thank you for your patronage.]

Xing Shi: “…”
System: “?”
Fu Xiuning: “?”

Silence fell.

The system, stunned, began to crash. This program must be broken! No wonder the punishments didn’t work!

Fu Xiuning, meanwhile, was equally surprised. He had assumed the “Thank you for your patronage” reward only appeared after a host earned favorability points and spent them on the lottery.

Xing Shi, expecting a grand prize, was dumbfounded. “Your lottery isn’t a guaranteed win?”

The system, utterly dejected, replied, “…It is.”

After running diagnostics, the system confirmed there was no error. The feedback from higher-ups was blunt: the probability of drawing “Thank you for your patronage” wasn’t zero, only infinitesimally close to it. The punishment mechanism, too, was functioning as intended. Xing Shi was simply… unlucky.

The system fell silent, devastated.

As the group lists were posted outside the practice rooms, Xing Shi discovered he was assigned to the same room as before. Coincidentally, Feng Zifan was also in his group.

The two entered the room together, only to find Fu Xiuning still there.

Fu Xiuning smiled faintly. “Did you two meet in the restroom?”

Xing Shi thought to himself, Why does he have to tease his own trainees like this?

Feng Zifan, flustered, muttered something about chatting outside, then tried to shoo Fu Xiuning away. “You’re not on the list here. You must be in another room.”

“No hurry,” Fu Xiuning replied calmly.

When the teachers arrived, the trainees quickly quieted down.

One teacher glanced at Fu Xiuning, unsure whether to greet him.

Fu Xiuning met her gaze and nodded. “Don’t mind me. I’m just observing.”

The staff offered him a chair, but he waved them off and found his own seat.

The trainees were stunned when the staff addressed him as “Mr. Fu.” Some discreetly searched his name online and discovered the truth.

Feng Zifan, now aware of Fu Xiuning’s identity, whispered to Xing Shi, “Did you know…”

Xing Shi cut him off, “He didn’t say anything.”

When it was Xing Shi’s turn to perform, he stepped forward confidently.

“I’ll sing,” he announced.

He sang a song from the magical world, a tune he had heard countless times during his travels. His voice resonated powerfully, leaving the teachers teary-eyed, the system crashing repeatedly, and the trainees utterly dumbfounded.

Fu Xiuning remained composed, his expression serene. Yet beneath the surface—

[Beep Beep]
[Current Favorability Value: -15]