Chapter 33
◎ Happiness is Coming Back ◎
GNK’s public cafeteria was located on the third floor.
Apart from the trainees, all staff members ate here as well. The staff meals were nutritionally balanced, looked good, and tasted great, giving off a strong vibe of a major corporate campus.
Most debuted artists had their own schedules and rarely stayed at the company for long when they did return, so they seldom appeared in the public cafeteria.
When Skye appeared in the cafeteria for the first time, jaws dropped among the trainees—many debuted seniors held a certain air of superiority, unwilling to eat the same staff meals as trainees, feeling they were different from before.
The trainees fully expected Skye to order takeout in their private lounge, never imagining they’d see them in the cafeteria.
It was as if a group of pandas suddenly appeared in territory usually occupied by polar bears; everyone couldn’t help but take a few extra looks to see if they ate seals or bamboo.
When Berlin walked into the cafeteria, his steps were floaty and unstable—a state the trainees resonated with all too well: this is what it looks like when your battery is drained.
The food on his tray was no different from the trainees’, except that after a moment of struggle, he had rejected the cafeteria auntie’s white rice with a tragic expression: “Thank you, Auntie, but I need to cut carbs for a while.”
The trainees bit their spoons in empathy: Pain, so much pain.jpg.
They even felt a sense of camaraderie with Berlin, eliminating some of the distance between them: Look, even the ‘Ending King’ Senior Berlin suffers just as much when cutting carbs.
This resonance came to an abrupt halt when they saw Han Yuzhe behind him.
Han Yuzhe was empty-handed. He lazily pulled out a chair and sat opposite Berlin. The table in front of him was bare; he clearly wasn’t eating lunch.
In stark contrast was Wu Hengyao. He had taken two trays all for himself. Neither tray had vegetables, only pan-fried meat patties. The visual effect was spectacular; each tray was stacked with about a dozen meat patties, looking like he was about to go set up a food stall somewhere.
Hua Yan was drinking a bottle of hawthorn juice that Skye endorsed, while Jiang Shuiran had reluctantly kept only a steamed fish.
The trainees couldn’t help but discuss the scene animatedly.
“I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to see Teacher Wu eat in person… He’s too strong, terrifyingly so. Will he really not get indigestion eating that much meat?”
“I really want to borrow Teacher Wu’s stomach for a meal; it looks so satisfying… It’s not just about satisfaction, uh, with Teacher Wu being such a picky eater and skipping vegetables, does he not have… cough blockage issues?”
“?? I advise you to apologize to Teacher Wu immediately. Defamation warning.”
“Ok, ok, I’ll kowtow to Teacher Wu, hahahahaha.”
The unsolved mystery of the human world that no one could figure out was probably why Wu Hengyao could eat so much every day without gaining an ounce of fat.
Anyone questioning Wu Hengyao would be slapped with a variety show screenshot by fans—showing his honey-colored, healthy eight-pack abs.
Besides sighing over Wu Hengyao’s unscientific iron stomach and digestive system, the trainees couldn’t help but marvel that Han Yuzhe truly lived up to his nickname “Dewdrop Teacher.”
Han Yuzhe really didn’t eat anything. In the past, trainees thought the rumors were exaggerated, but after a few days, they realized they had never seen Han Yuzhe eat a single thing in public.
“I really haven’t seen him eat a bite… What terrifying self-control. Is he the god of discipline? He really survives on qi alone.”
“I’m so worried Brother Zhe will faint from hunger, but he looks so calm and composed. The dance training intensity is so high… I seriously suspect now, is Brother Zhe’s title of ‘Slacking King’ just because he’s too hungry?”
“I’m faint… now that you mention it, I actually think it’s possible…”
Thinking of this, a sense of awe rose spontaneously among the trainees. An idol who controlled his body with such dedication for the comeback camera deserved to be famous. Many of them were also in a fat-loss period and knew how hard it was to refrain from that one extra bite. Willpower had to be astounding; otherwise, it was easy to rebound with binge eating or fall into depression caused by hormonal imbalances.
Seeing Han Yuzhe’s calm and lazy state, his mood seemingly unaffected by fasting, he appeared incredibly strong to the trainees.
“But not eating is actually very harmful to the body. I hope Brother Zhe takes care of his health.”
What they didn’t notice was that Han Yuzhe, who was resting with his eyes closed, twitched his ears slightly.
Immediately after, Wu Hengyao, chewing on a meat patty, let out a snort of laughter. He looked at Han Yuzhe with a teasing, half-smile. “Take care of your health.”
Han Yuzhe couldn’t be bothered to respond.
Berlin, focused on his meal, knew they had likely overheard someone whispering again. He took out his phone to check messages, his gaze constantly drifting toward the door.
When the familiar tall figure appeared at the cafeteria entrance, Berlin raised his arm high and waved. “Over here!”
The trainees’ gazes swiveled to the door in unison.
Countless people looked at Cecil with burning envy: Damn, how did he do it?
Ignoring the attention from all sides, Cecil nodded slightly at Berlin, grabbed a tray, and served himself a standard lunch—neither extremely picky like Wu Hengyao nor cutting carbs.
He walked straight to Berlin, then paused.
He was late. The seats opposite and on both sides of Berlin were taken.
Unexpectedly, Han Yuzhe, who had been resting his eyes, lifted his eyelids and pointed his chin at the empty seat beside him. “Sit.”
Cecil tilted his head slightly in thought for a moment, then pulled out the chair as instructed.
He took a carton of milk from his jacket pocket, placed it in front of Berlin, and said nothing.
Berlin was stunned. He looked down and realized it was the coffee milk he had casually mentioned wanting to drink yesterday.
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Thanks! I’ll treat you tomorrow.”
Cecil shook his head slightly.
Berlin thought he meant there was no need to treat him back, but in the next second, Cecil calmly took another carton of the exact same coffee milk from his other pocket.
Although he didn’t speak, the meaning was clear: We can drink together today.
Berlin paused, unconsciously grinning, poked the straw in, and took a sip.
He narrowed his eyes happily. “Mmm, it’s really good.”
Cecil leisurely took a sip of his own, a faint smile flashing deep in his eyes.
Beside them, Han Yuzhe watched with his head tilted. Compared to the stiff Cecil in the elevator, the current Cecil clearly had minute emotional fluctuations.
This change wasn’t obvious, but it existed.
Hua Yan didn’t care about Cecil’s expression at all. His gaze remained fixed on Berlin. Seeing Berlin smile so happily after drinking the coffee milk, he gloomily downed a mouthful of hawthorn juice.
Hua Yan could never hide his emotions. He tried to hold it back but failed, clumsily masking his jealousy as professional advice: “Berlin, we have a beverage endorsement. Should you be drinking this?”
“Ah.” Berlin touched his head, thinking belatedly, then shook his head hesitantly. “It’s milk-based, so it’s different from juice drinks, right? It should be fine?”
Before Hua Yan could answer, Cecil nodded slightly. “Mm, it’s fine.”
Hua Yan frowned, unhappy that Cecil had suddenly joined the conversation. “…How do you know it’s fine?”
When facing anyone other than Berlin, Cecil’s expression remained basically unchanged. “I memorized it.”
Hua Yan: “? Memorized what?”
Cecil answered without thinking, “The One Hundred and Twenty-Eight Useful Facts You Need to Know at GNK.”
Hua Yan: “…………”
It sounded vaguely familiar. It took him a long time to dig out from the corners of his memory what on earth that was—when they first joined the company, everyone received a small booklet with that name. It looked like some strange flyer or eccentric instruction manual.
Hua Yan had only glanced at the first page before tossing it aside.
Just like how one doesn’t necessarily read the instruction manual or clicks ‘Agree’ on an app’s disclaimer without reading… what normal person memorizes that stuff?
Berlin opened his eyes wide in surprise, unsure how to react for a moment. “Uh, you really memorized it?”
Cecil was concise. “People at the company said to memorize it, so I did.”
Berlin: “…”
Berlin had only skimmed it back then, thinking GNK was quite thoughtful to compile such “knowledge points” for new trainees so they wouldn’t be completely ignorant or cheated due to lack of common sense.
A great sense of responsibility!
GNK had both actors and groups. The booklet was shared; all newcomers received the same version.
As for the content, it was too long. Berlin had some impression of it when he first read it, but more than two years later, he had forgotten it all.
He got interested, acting like a homeroom teacher launching a surprise quiz. “What is rule twenty-eight?”
Berlin didn’t know the answer at all; he was just joking.
Unexpectedly, Cecil glanced at him and actually answered: “When signing film and television contracts, ensure the exact daily working hours are clearly stated in the contract, for example, a maximum of ten hours per day. Otherwise, the crew will schedule the earliest and latest scenes for you, leaving you only fifteen hours of sleep a week—tearful advice from a senior who nearly died from sudden death after being pitted.”
Berlin: “…………”
Was the booklet this style? He didn’t remember.
He had to admit, looking at it now, it was really practical. Every rule was probably a lesson learned from personal experience.
GNK, a company that always took the blame in weird places and got scolded by fans, was actually quite humane.
During this meal, Berlin ended up learning from Cecil, gaining a heap of messy but seemingly useful knowledge.
This included how to distinguish competing products in business endorsements meticulously.
In reality, these were strictly controlled by the manager. Assistants would usually slice off the outer packaging of drinks when outside, so Berlin had never been clear on how to categorize them. He didn’t need to understand; the staff would sort it out for him, and he just needed to do his job well.
But learning this from Cecil was quite interesting.
Just in the beverage category, there were many detailed subdivisions. For example, Pepsi and Coke were set-in-stone competitors, but Master Kong Ice Tea, while also a beverage, was only considered the same category, not a direct competitor.
Skye endorsed several clothing brands. Excluding the expired ones from last year, they currently held endorsements for a national sports apparel brand, a pajama series, a streetwear brand, and a blue-blood luxury brand.
Although these were all clothing categories, they didn’t count as competitors to each other and didn’t interfere.
When signing contracts, the manager would do their best to make the most detailed distinctions so that every small category could become a potential business slot, trying to use as many colors as possible like filling in a pie chart.
Berlin never intended to understand this science. Compared to this, he was more concerned about whether Han Yuzhe’s dancing could keep up and wash away the “slacking” reputation.
Cecil was very strong.
Sitting firmly as A-1 proved that. Berlin had later gone to observe the Class A practice room. While other trainees were still picking at so-called structural balance, Cecil already possessed stage presence.
It was just that this “stage presence” hadn’t been baptized by a real stage, and his expressiveness didn’t seem entirely his own. It was more like he was imitating someone—
Just like Berlin’s intuition when he first saw Cecil dance, there was a shadow of Berlin in Cecil’s dancing.
He wasn’t sure if this was because Cecil was his fan and had watched many videos of him, being influenced subconsciously.
But everyone had to step out of others’ shadows and find themselves.
Cecil’s skills were fine. Berlin was considering how to help Cecil shed his flavor and find a style that belonged to him.
He hadn’t figured it out yet.
During the closed training period, Skye had unknowingly gone more than twenty days without a public appearance.
To prevent fans from waiting in agony during the drought, the company discussed with Skye to pick a day for a live stream.
The live stream was expected to last about two hours, enough to relieve the fans’ “lovesickness” without affecting the progress of closed training.
Streaming inside the company also provided a chance to pick two trainees the company intended to debut soon to briefly appear in Skye’s stream—they would definitely get scolded, but Skye had huge traffic. Besides fans, passersby would also click in to watch. It was a chance to buy some press releases and get their faces known, at least leaving an impression.
Since they were from the same company, getting a bit of heat from their own group was the best scenario.
As long as they grasped the degree so as not to be annoying, and the appearance time was short, fans wouldn’t be too angry. Participating in a small segment of the stream, distinguishing primary and secondary roles without going overboard, was fine.
If it was too obvious, fans would rebel, thinking the company’s way of letting trainees suck blood was too ugly.
As soon as the news of Skye’s live stream was released, the fans, who had been waiting for a long time like a drought meeting rain, or sharks smelling blood, drove up the reposts, likes, and comments at an astonishing speed.
Fans were so happy they could fly: Damn, we’ve been vegetarians for twenty years; our happiness is finally coming back!!
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