My childhood friend and I joined a dating reality show, aiming to be the ultimate sloths, all for that juicy appearance fee. We’d burst into laughter during tasks, then argue while watching other couples. Even when the surprise guests arrived, we were still just munching on sunflower seeds, enjoying the drama. The next second, my friend’s face went white as he pointed at the big-shot socialite from the city’s elite circles: “Your ex-husband!” I, my hand trembling, pointed at the high-society heiress: “Your ex-wife!” We scrambled to the director, begging to quit. The director just smirked. “Ten times the penalty for breach of contract. Immediate payment.” As Mike and I exchanged a look, we knew. We’d fallen straight into a wolf’s den. 1 Mike and I, we were inseparable, practically grew up in the same sandbox. Our families always joked we were two peas in a pod, destined to cause trouble. Freshmen year of college, a photo of us went viral, and somehow, we tumbled into the entertainment industry. To avoid rumors, and for a ridiculous sense of pride, we agreed to act like strangers, vowing to meet at the top. Turns out, we never made it to the top. We rolled down halfway up the mountain. After years of struggling, we were still nobodies, ridiculed by netizens as “Wooden Beauty” and “Stone-Faced Hunk.” That wasn't even the worst of it. On New Year’s Eve, with fireworks exploding overhead, we squatted on the curb, crying like heartbroken puppies. We’d both been dumped on the same day. Mike’s nose was running, and he snarled, “I’m never playing lapdog for that woman again!” I used his ridiculously expensive down jacket as a tissue to wipe my tears. “I broke up too! For real this time! Who wants to put up with such an arrogant man anyway? Let someone else do it!” We ended up stumbling home, dead drunk, leaning on each other. Sobering up, we were completely disillusioned. This rotten industry was unbearable. “Let’s just quit.” “Agreed!” Mike was quicker to respond than anyone. We were both graduates from prestigious universities; we weren’t worried about finding work. Just as I was about to contact a lawyer to send out my termination letter, my agent, Jenna, tossed a gig my way. A live-streamed dating show, its main selling point was being "wild." “Willow, you’re taking this show whether you like it or not. You’re quitting anyway, so you might as well go be a cautionary tale. Be a little crazy, a little dramatic. Infamy is still fame, got it?” Why should I? I was leaving; why should I be a stepping stone for others? I’d just typed out, “Jenna, I’m done. Whoever wants this crap can have it…” when another message from Jenna popped up. “Ten million dollars for the appearance fee.” The finger hovering over the delete key instantly froze. Ten million? I quickly erased my text, replying demurely, “It’s not about the money.” Jenna: “Ten million per episode.” Hiss— I immediately replied, “Jenna, to be honest, I’m quite the wild card in my private life. This gig is perfect for me!” 2 After signing the contract, feeling utterly pleased, I opened my door and bumped right into Mike, who’d come over to scrounge for food. Our eyes met, and a strange, guilty air hung between us. Wait, I was guilty because I’d sold out for money, but what was he guilty about? My parents and Aunt Sarah were chatting animatedly. My mom’s eyes sparkled. “It’s finally happening? I knew those two kids had something going on!” Aunt Sarah was even more excited. “I’ve got the dowry ready; we can propose anytime!” Just as the conversation was veering towards grandchildren, Mike quickly interrupted. “Stop, stop, stop! Willow and I are talking work, purely work!” He dragged me onto the balcony and closed the door. Mike’s gaze darted around. “Uh, have you sent your termination letter yet?” I picked at my fingernails, stammering, “Not yet… I still have a mall appearance event to finish.” I couldn’t very well tell him I was going to a dating show to rake in cash, it would make me seem so spineless. Hearing that, Mike instantly straightened his back. “Coincidentally, I haven’t sent mine either. I still have a cameo to do in a movie.” We exchanged a look, both seeing “like hell you do” in the other’s eyes. But neither of us called the other out. This unspoken understanding stemmed from our shared best friend, Miles. Back in the day, Mike, Miles, and I were the ultimate trio. But since Mike and Miles often bickered, I became the double agent. In front of Mike, I’d denounce Miles: “That Miles is so stingy, let’s not hang out with him!” Mike, pleased, would give all his snacks to me. Then, turning to Miles, I’d sigh: “Actually, Mike’s quite pitiful, just don’t bother with him.” Miles, touched, would treat me to meals all over the city. Until one day, Miles treated me to crab, and Mike gave me two dried persimmons. That night, I ended up in the emergency room. The two "creditors" squared up at my bedside, and my double-agent scheme completely blew up. Miles sneered, “I’m stingy?” Mike gritted his teeth, “I’m pitiful?” I huddled under the blanket, shivering. “The doctor said all that, don’t blame me…” Now, bringing up old times, we both tacitly chose to keep quiet. 3 Three days later, on a secluded island, at the set of the dating show. I walked in a flowing red backless gown, teetering on stilettos, ready to make a grand exit from my showbiz career. According to the script, I was supposed to choose a male guest for a romantic encounter. But when I looked up, I saw Mike, looking absurdly dapper in a suit. The sea breeze ruffled through his hair as the cameras zoomed in frantically. The production team practically wanted to emblazon “FATED ROMANCE” across the screen. I pressed my lips together, desperately trying not to laugh. Mike’s cheeks puffed out, clearly holding back a giggle himself. The moment our fingertips touched, we both burst. “Hahahaha!” Our laughter startled the seagulls and utterly bewildered the viewers watching the live stream. “Are these two crazy?” “Didn’t they say they weren’t close? What’s with this level of synchronicity?” “Can I get a refund? I came here for sweet romance, not a comedy show!” We couldn't care less. We found a corner and sat down, coasting along. On the surface, we were on our phones, but in reality, we were bombing Miles in our “Anti-Scumbag Alliance” group chat. Me: “Dr. Miles, quick, watch the live stream. How’s Mike and my acting?” Mike: “Miles, isn’t my suit cool?” Miles: “Get lost. I just got off surgery; I don’t have time to watch you two monkeys.” Me: “Don’t be so cold! How about we talk about that time you were chased by a goose as a kid?” Mike: “Or your heroic feat of throwing a firecracker into a cowpat?” Miles: “…It seems you two have really moved on, if you’re still in the mood to tease me.” With that one sentence, the group chat instantly went silent. That familiar pang in my chest returned. Just then, the show provided red wine, and Mike and I drank it down like water, glass after glass. Once the alcohol kicked in, our chatter was unstoppable. We completely forgot about the dozens of hidden cameras around us. Mike’s eyes were red, his voice choked. “Willow, do you think she never loved me? I was so obedient, so good. If she said east, I’d never go west, but she still dumped me.” I banged on the table, even more agitated than him. “What’s that compared to? My ex was the real piece of work! He always had a cold face, like I owed him eight hundred thousand dollars. If I so much as glanced at someone else, he’d accuse me of being unfaithful. Even my breathing was wrong!” The live stream exploded. “Holy crap! Is this paid content?!” “Who are these two nobodies’ exes? This sounds so juicy!” “Mike’s crying makes me want to wipe his tears. Such a puppy!” “Willow’s mouth is amazing, this is genuine!” Just as we were about to drop more bombshells, Miles’s call came through. The ringing was jarring, instantly snapping us awake. Miles roared on the other end of the line, “You two! Do you want to be blacklisted tomorrow?! That’s a live stream! A live stream!” Mike and I exchanged a look, cold sweat instantly breaking out. I gave a dry laugh, giving a thumbs-up to the camera. “Mr. Thompson’s line delivery is amazing! What do you all think of that impromptu performance?” Mike immediately caught on, chiming in, “Ms. Davies isn’t bad either, full of emotion and clearly layered! Come on, let’s continue to discuss that script…” 4 After that night of “madness,” Mike and I actually became popular. Netizens were speculating about who our awful exes could possibly be. We, however, weren't worried at all. Those two big shots, one a high-and-mighty business tycoon, the other an arrogant heiress from a prominent family, how could they stoop to appear on an entertainment show like this? Unless the sun rose from the west. The next day, the sun shone brightly. Mike and I each grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds, squatting in the shade, watching the other guests flirt. “Look at that innocent girl. Her eyes are practically melting. She must have a thing for that movie star.” “Give me a break, that’s acting. I bet fifty cents the movie star likes the sophisticated lady.” The comment section was filled with laughter. “Are these two here to be commentators?” “Never seen such down-to-earth celebrities, I love them.” “They’re like the old folks at the village entrance.” Just as we were engrossed in our snacking, the director’s megaphone blared. “Attention all guests, two mystery guests will be arriving on the island shortly. Please prepare to welcome them.” Mike and I exchanged a glance and continued cracking seeds. “Hope a handsome guy comes, to cleanse my eyes.” “A beautiful woman would be nice too, even if I can’t pursue her, she’d still be pleasing to look at.” The next second, a yacht docked. A man and a woman stepped off the boat. The man was tall and imposing, radiating a powerful aura, his face as cold as if he’d just been pulled from an ice chamber. The woman wore designer clothes, sunglasses concealing her eyes, walking with a confident stride, every movement oozing wealth. The live stream instantly erupted. “Holy crap! Is that Mr. Buckley? The head of the Buckley Group?!” “Is that Ms. Vance next to him? The Vance family’s heiress, just returned from abroad?” “Did the production team sell a kidney? How did they manage to invite these two titans?!” The sunflower seeds in Mike’s and my hands scattered with a clatter. Our smiles froze on our faces, looking worse than crying. I trembled, pointing at the man. “Mike, that’s… your ex-husband…” Mike shivered, pointing at the woman. “Willow, that’s… your ex-wife…” Run! That was the only thought in my head. We both bolted towards the production team. “Director! We want to quit! We’ll pay the penalty! We’ll sell everything we own if we have to!” The director slowly sipped his tea, holding up a single finger. “The penalty is ten times, and it must be paid in cash, immediately.” Mike and I’s legs went limp; we nearly collapsed. We were doomed. This time, we were truly trapped in a setup. Before we could even think of a countermeasure, two familiar, chilling voices sounded from behind us. “Why the rush? Don’t you want to say hello to old friends?”
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