It took Mr. Gu and his jury just one day to interview all the human-shaped assets left behind by the previous company. It took another three days to process the termination contracts for everyone else. After a bit of cherry-picking, ten people remained.

That’s right. Of the 101 young men, only ten were left.

And that’s right, Jiang Lechen was one of the precious one-tenth!

Jiang Lechen wondered if, since they used to be called Hot Boys 101, they would now be called Hot Boys 10.

Losing a “1” for no good reason couldn’t be a good omen.

The new agent informed them that everyone needed to report to the company for a meeting on Monday afternoon.

Little Jiang Lechen didn’t have Mondays off, so he had to specifically request a half-day leave from his internship. He slung his electric scooter over his shoulder and went to report for duty with his small bag in tow.

Their company was tucked away in a small corner on the East Fifth Ring Road of the capital. The east side of the city has always been a center for film and television companies of all sizes and their related industries.

If you threw a brick, you’d probably hit five film planners and three project directors. The only difference is that wealthy companies can afford to rent proper office buildings, while less wealthy ones can only settle in small “villas” in the local urban village.

A “small villa in the village”—or what could more accurately be called a self-built two-story village house.

Jiang Lechen remembered his shock when he first came to the company. He never imagined a place with such a rustic, down-to-earth vibe could still exist in the capital.

Five kilometers away, the Joy City shopping mall was dazzling and glamorous, where every table at Starbucks buzzed with talk of S-plus level projects, and you’d be too embarrassed to greet anyone if your production budget wasn’t over a hundred million. But back in the village, Cinderella in her glass slippers turned back into the girl sweeping cinders.

For the final leg of the journey from the subway to the company’s front door, you had to have quick eyes and even quicker hands to snatch an undamaged share-bike.

Jiang Lechen’s university was in the most prosperous part of the city’s west side, where the real estate near campus went for 220,000 yuan per square meter. Every time he journeyed from west to east, it felt like a pilgrimage. His classmates would joke that he was heading to the countryside for poverty relief work.

“It’s the countryside, for sure, but I’m not the one providing relief,” Jiang Lechen would reply. “My base salary is only two thousand a month. The cleaning lady at our company makes four and a half thousand. If anyone needs relief, it’s me.”

“……”

His classmate retorted. “I can’t say if your wallet is poor, but your mouth is anything but.”

In any case, Jiang Lechen, whose wallet and mouth were equally “poor,” took a bus to the subway, then rode the subway to his electric scooter, and traveled past a stinky little river and a broken road that was constantly being dug up for pipe-laying, bumping and rattling all the way to the company’s front gate.

He parked his scooter by the road, swiped his ID card, and sauntered into the building.

The company’s former boss had fled with some senior managers, leaving only the lower-level staff behind. Gu Yuzhe had moved his own team in directly, completely revamping the small company. When Jiang Lechen entered, he saw only unfamiliar faces.

Thankfully, the receptionist remained the same. When she saw Jiang Lechen, she gave him a look, raised her eyebrows, and winked to show him that everyone else from the group had already arrived at the conference room. They were all waiting for him.

Jiang Lechen: “!!!” He was shocked. “They’re late for every single practice. How come they’re so early this time?”

The receptionist: “It’s the new boss’s first day, after all. Gotta make a good impression on Mr. Gu.”

Jiang Lechen thought it over. If everyone else made a good impression by being early, wouldn’t he make a bad one by being “late”?

He glanced at his watch. The meeting was scheduled for 2:30 p.m., and it was only 2:25… He wasn’t actually late, but compared to everyone else, he now seemed like the unmotivated, unambitious, unpunctual one.

What was this called? This was called a toxic rat race!

Jiang Lechen scoffed. “Heh!”

The unmotivated, unambitious, and unpunctual Jiang Lechen entered the conference room without a shred of guilt.

Sure enough, the room was already mostly full. The young men were all huddled together, heads down, scrolling on their phones. When they heard the door open, they quickly looked up. Seeing that it was Jiang Lechen and not the new boss, they lost interest and lowered their heads again.

Jiang Lechen scanned the room to see how many familiar faces were left in the Hot Boys 10 now that the “1” was gone. It turned out… he only recognized one person.

It couldn’t be helped. Their group used to have 101 members, but there was a constantly revolving door of people quitting and joining every month.

How could he possibly remember every face and name? In his five years with the group, he knew fewer than ten people; the number he’d spoken to and considered an acquaintance was even smaller.

Jiang Lechen sat down directly next to the one teammate he recognized.

“Psst, psst,” Jiang Lechen said, slinging his elbow over the other boy’s neck. “Gui-gui, when did you get here?”

The boy in the baseball cap, known as “Gui-gui,” shot him a look, grabbed his wrist with one hand, and with a sharp crack, twisted his arm back.

Jiang Lechen: “Ow, ow, ow!”

His teammate: “What’s my name?”

Jiang Lechen: “…Wen Gui.”

Wen Gui: “Then what did you just call me?”

Jiang Lechen said sourly, “I called you ‘Ancestor.'”

Wen Gui shot him a sidelong glance. “Mm, my good grandson.”

“…” Little Jiang Lechen had been soundly defeated.

Their group had 101 little nobodies. With his energetic and perpetually sunny disposition, Little Jiang had managed to become the most popular member of the group (most popular = 22,000 followers on Weibo).

Wen Gui’s popularity was about on par with his.

The only difference was that Jiang Lechen occasionally (occasionally = you could count the times on one hand) received leg pics from female fans, while Wen Gui only ever received [BEEP] pics from male fans.

You couldn’t blame them. Wen Gui had a stunning face, with phoenix eyes and a single beauty mark just below one of them. Even when he’s glaring at you with fierce intensity, it almost seems like he’s flirting.

A face like that, in South Korea, could have debuted on the spot with the title of “Face Genius.” But here on the East Fifth Ring Road, even the most beautiful angel had to ride a share-bike alongside him.

Wen Gui was three years younger than him and had joined the group three years later. Wen Gui was seventeen when he joined, and Jiang Lechen was twenty.

The company, intending to pair up their two best-looking members to stir up some shipping CP buzz, had privately instructed them to spend more time together, wishing they could get them to sleep in the same bed.

Jiang Lechen didn’t mind. What boy band didn’t do a little queerbaiting these days? And doing it with a handsome younger brother was much better than being paired with the other weirdos in the group.

But back then, Wen Gui was an underage, straight-as-an-arrow male. He lodged a formal protest with the company: “I came here for the stage, not to get famous! I will absolutely not resort to underhanded methods like queerbaiting—unless I get to be the ‘1’!”

Twenty-year-old Jiang Lechen retorted, “My dear brother, look in the mirror. With a face like that, you want to be the ‘1’? More like a ‘cutesy 1,’ maybe?”

“Why don’t you take a look in the mirror?” The seventeen-year-old Wen Gui shot back, not yielding an inch. “You’re always bragging about your ‘boyish charm.’ Once I’m done with you, you can go straight to having ‘young housewife charm’!”

“…”

In the end, the two never became a ship. Instead, they became best girlfriends—er, no, best bros.

Alright, timeline jump back to the present.

In the conference room, Jiang Lechen had his arm around Wen Gui’s shoulder and whispered, “Forget all that nonsense. The new boss called this meeting today. Do you know what it’s about?”

Wen Gui pressed the brim of his cap down, his tone flat. “Who knows? Whatever it is, it’s not about terminating contracts.”

That was true. The ones who were meant to be let go had left, and the ones who were meant to be kicked out had been removed. The ten remaining members lacked team spirit, couldn’t even name each other, and wouldn’t even line up at the same height.

Jiang Lechen bounced his leg. “Maybe getting let go would have been good,” he muttered.

Wen Gui: “What’s this? Even Mr. Optimist has his gloomy days?”

Jiang Lechen: “My dear Wen Gui, I’m an optimist, not an idiot.”

Wen Gui: “Really? I don’t believe you.”

…Damn, this little brat was asking for a beating!!!!

Jiang Lechen’s butt hadn’t even warmed the seat when a set of footsteps echoed outside the conference room.

The closed door was pushed open. When they saw the figures outside, all ten (remaining) boy band members shot to their feet out of reflex, their gazes respectfully fixed on the tall figure in the lead.

At the door stood Gu Yuzhe, dressed in a tailored, charcoal-grey suit that outlined his tall, straight figure. His meticulously styled hair was combed back, revealing without reservation the ambition and calculation in his brow.

He swept his ambitious eyes over everyone in the room, then slightly nodded. “Sit.”

A man of few words.

Everyone flinched at his icy tone. Only Little Jiang’s mental defenses were like a fortress of steel. Not only was he not intimidated, he even had the spare mental capacity to glance down at his watch.

The hour and minute hands pointed exactly to 2:30, not a second more or less than the time stated in the meeting notice.

And so, Little Jiang learned that his new boss had a rigorous personality and a strong sense of time, just like the time clock at their veterinary hospital.

The time clock spoke: “I’m Gu Yuzhe. I’m sure you all know who I am, so I won’t waste time with self-introductions and pleasantries.”

Everyone: “…”

The time clock spoke again: “Our team selected ten of you to stay. But the reason you’re staying isn’t because you’re so great, but because everyone else was so much worse.”

Everyone: “…”

The time clock continued: “My company does not support idlers, villains, or fools. If you want to earn your keep, you have to face the hardships. Never expect to lie back and make money easily. The entertainment industry isn’t as simple as you think. You may be the only one on stage, but behind you are at least ten other trainees with similar skills, plus a hundred crew members. As for how many people are in the audience? No one really knows. It could be a thousand, ten thousand, a hundred thousand. Or there might be no one at all.”

“…”

As he delivered the last part, the atmosphere in the room grew heavy and solemn.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jiang Lechen noticed Wen Gui, who had been standing somewhat lazily, had straightened his spine. From under his baseball cap, his gaze was fixed on Gu Yuzhe with an almost fanatical intensity, his expression utterly focused.

“I have reviewed all of your files, including the videos from your previous internal assessments. My team will arrange more targeted training for you, and then assign work based on your individual performance. Remember,” The man paused, “I am an agent, but I am a businessman first—I only invest, I don’t gamble.”

The room was utterly silent; not even the sound of breathing could be heard.

Gu Yuzhe didn’t mind their silence. He took the opportunity to observe the ten young men before him. Having passed thirty and navigated the industry for so long, these boys in their early twenties were ridiculously easy for him to read.

His gaze swept over them. He saw different reactions from each of the ten: some were timid, avoiding his eyes; some had shifty eyes, as if calculating something; the handsome boy in the baseball cap had a contemplative look—he had performed best in the initial interview, a rare one with a brain; and then there was one… who was staring straight at him, wide-eyed, like a little puppy trying to get his attention, just short of jumping up and down.

“…………” Gu Yuzhe was silent for two seconds before he finally spoke. “Jiang Lechen, is there something you want to say?”

Jiang Lechen shot his arm up like an elementary school student asking a question in class. “Mr. Gu, I have a question!” he announced loudly.

No one expected him to be so bold. In an instant, all eyes were on him.

Gu Yuzhe: “Speak.”

Jiang Lechen scratched his head. “You just said the company doesn’t support ‘idlers, villains, or fools.’ Are those three an intersection or a union?”

Gu Yuzhe: “…”

Everyone: “…”

Seeing that he didn’t answer, Jiang Lechen thought he might not have understood. He quickly explained, “Oh, intersection and union are mathematical concepts. If you’re unfamiliar with them, do you know about the series and parallel circuits for lightbulbs? It’s kind of like that, it means…”

“—Little Feng, take this down,” Gu Yuzhe said, turning his head toward his assistant. “Deduct eight hundred from Jiang Lechen’s performance bonus this month. Reason: he’s an idiot who talks too much.”

---

Author’s Note:

Little Jiang: Heh, docking my pay on the very first day. Whoever wants this job can have it!