38. Winter Camp at Nanda

The day before New Year’s Day, the highly anticipated “No NG Tonight” finally aired simultaneously on South City TV and North City TV, the two largest television networks in the country. Naturally, Twin Star Media’s app was the exclusive online broadcast platform, launching a synchronized live streaming authorization.

Although the production team had been pressed for time during filming, their post-production publicity was anything but haphazard. They began building hype and suspense a month in advance on major forums, announced the show officially two weeks before the premiere, and on the day of its broadcast pushed splash ads across multiple apps such as Yibo, Twin Star Media, and Hot Drama Network. The credit at the bottom of the poster was particularly eye-catching, boldly stating:

This program was personally overseen by Twin Star’s heiress, Chen Ruowen, the only daughter of Chairman Chen.

Chen Ruowen had thoroughly roasted this gimmick, holding back for quite some time before resisting the urge to call Huang Yaming and scold him.

After all this effort, “No NG Tonight” was popular before it even aired. On the day of its premiere, it captured a 30% audience share, outshining both the New Year’s Eve Gala and the Starshine Night Awards Ceremony, two longstanding hits. So much so, that years later, people recalling the year’s end would have to search online to remember which dramas and who took home the National Goddess Award at Starshine Night that year.

The result of this craze was that the show’s mysterious “Chief Advisor”—whose name was placed seemingly casually yet prominently on the poster, and mentioned only briefly during the show—also became inexplicably famous.

Chen Ruowen’s Yibo account gained tens of thousands of new followers overnight. Her name was suddenly everywhere on the freshly reopened First High School forum. Thankfully, the discussions were generally reasonable this time. Kumamoto Masa, acting as an undercover “spy” on the forum, quietly opened every thread and only deleted or banned a few particularly aggressive accounts.

There were no longer groups of students rushing to Class Three, Grade Twelve to take photos. After all, everyone had witnessed Chen Ruowen’s assertiveness, and the teachers’ warnings still lingered in their ears.

But most importantly, as the marginal center of the program, student Chen Ruowen—

Had once again taken leave from school.

She took her suitcase from Assistant Pan, struggling to maneuver it several times before finally, under Pan’s anxious gaze, entering the unremarkable building before her.

It was an activity center, located on the campus of South City University—known as South Uni. Chen Ruowen had come here to participate in South Uni’s annual winter camp.

In some ways, South Uni was a special institution. Along with North City University, East City University, and West City University, it was one of the “Four Greats of Hua Nation”—the country’s top universities. However, it didn’t accept recommended students, nor did it grant any high school direct admission quotas, not even for South City First High School located in the same city.

Yet, the absence of recommendation quotas didn’t mean admission was only possible via rigorous exams. The week-long winter camp held every winter break served as an alternative path.

Chen Ruowen was determined to enter South Uni, but had no hope of passing the entrance exams, and the university would never accept purchased seats. Her only avenue was to somehow get into the winter camp.

Upon entering the activity center, she found the registration desk. After giving her name and school, a South Uni student working as a temporary staff member handled her registration and assigned her a dormitory.

Impatiently, Chen Ruowen tapped the counter, creating a noise to snap the dazed registrar out of his trance.

“Is my registration done? What’s my room number?”

“Ah, sorry, sorry!” The student finally came to his senses, apologizing profusely as he hurriedly opened the database on the computer, only to freeze for a moment as if his system had crashed.

“Sorry, could you tell me your name again?”

Chen Ruowen repeated her information, annoyed but resigned—she was used to people being awestruck upon first meeting her, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t irritating.

At least the student knew he was at fault and didn’t mind her impatience. He even volunteered to help carry her luggage.

“Hey, I’ve been watching ‘No NG Tonight’ lately. Your name is exactly the same as the Chief Advisor credited on the show!”

As they climbed the stairs, he chatted enthusiastically.

Chief Advisor?

Chen Ruowen’s expression flickered, but she didn’t bother correcting a stranger about whether she was just a figurehead or truly involved.

“Is that so? What did you think of the show?”

“It’s pretty entertaining! I’m a fan of the original novel ‘Sovereign of the Sky.’ When they announced a live-action adaptation, I was most worried about bad casting. Last year, the adaptation of ‘Timeless Code’ featured a bunch of traffic stars whose acting was unbearable—I couldn’t even watch! But this time, judging from the costumes in previous competitions, the character images fit well enough, and the acting seems decent.” The student sounded like a bookworm, and once he got started on a favorite novel, he rambled on endlessly.

The initial selection focused mainly on character suitability… Wasn’t fitting the character image a given? Chen Ruowen silently complained, but still listened attentively to his opinions.

“Hmm, do you think the program has any flaws?”

Chen Ruowen took the opportunity to conduct a satisfaction survey.

“Flaws…” The student pondered for quite a while, then slapped his thigh excitedly.

“It’s that we can’t vote! There was a contestant playing Li Xiaoxiao whom I really liked, but she was eliminated in the third round! Such a pity! If only the directors considered audience opinion during selection—even if they didn’t actually use the voting results, just letting us vote would let us express our feelings!”

Letting them vote… Wouldn’t that just lead back to the cycle of traffic-driven popularity?

Generally, shows use voting to coax money out of naive viewers; who gets eliminated is decided behind the scenes anyway. Her own show didn’t allow voting, yet people were complaining they couldn’t be scammed? Chen Ruowen kept her thoughts to herself.

“There will be an explanation about voting in the final episode. As for emotional voting… I’ll consider it next season. Anything else?”

The student didn’t seem to notice her words. They reached the last flight, switching from carrying to rolling the suitcase.

“That’s about it…” He led Chen Ruowen down the third-floor dormitory corridor, enthusiastically demonstrating how to unlock the door, and finally made a wish to his soon-to-be junior, who clearly had a keen interest in “No NG Tonight.”

“I just hope when filming officially starts, the costumes and props maintain the same level as during the competitions. Please, no drastic script changes or random recasting.”

“That won’t happen.”

Chen Ruowen took her suitcase and entered the dormitory.

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, puzzled. “I’ve seen a lot of dramas where the cast on air is different from the announced lineup.”

“Because I’ll be watching over them as they film.”

She pushed her luggage into the room and slammed the door, leaving the helpful student outside.

“Thank you for carrying my luggage.”

In the corridor, the student stood stunned for a full minute, then let out a soul-shaking scream.

“Ahhhhh! I met Chen Ruowen in person!!!”