Money 2%

Jiang Tangmian eased her foot into the bathtub, the water at just the right temperature.

She slowly sat down, the surface rising to cover her skin. In this moment, she felt like a newborn returning to the womb, enveloped by warmth, surrounded by a sense of security, all her exhaustion melting away.

The air was laced with the scent of bergamot essential oil, the fragrance mingling with the steam that filled the bathroom. Beside the tub sat a glass of red wine; she took a delicate sip, the rich flavor dancing across her tongue.

But the D81 on her system panel dragged her back to cold reality—this was the countdown marking her days since transmigrating into the novel, and it was also the eighty-first day since she had abandoned the original storyline.

The start date for the new drama remained undecided; she still hadn’t found the male lead.

On the television above the bathtub, a group of vibrant young girls performed a song and dance, but Jiang Tangmian ignored them completely.

She navigated to her phone’s search page.

Gu Yanxun—the name of the original novel’s male lead—how could Jiang Tangmian possibly forget? Yet, searching across the entire internet, there was no trace of him.

As she’d suspected, she had transmigrated too early. At this point, Gu Yanxun was an unknown, still an ordinary person—he might well be hauling bricks at a construction site somewhere.

Next to the search bar, the recommended section featured *Go Wander, Friday*, the very first variety show Jiang Tangmian had helped produce.

Back when she’d met with Susan, unable to choose between the two variety shows, Jiang Tangmian had simply invested in both.

Money was not the issue—what mattered was her audience favorability.

*Go Wander, Friday*, or simply *Go Friday*, caused a sensation online when it was officially announced.

Everyone began speculating which hated celebrities would be sent onto the show.

For a week, people voted, debunked rumors, and it was as if a great escape game for despised celebrities had swept the internet.

The show’s popularity soared, and today’s live broadcast would reveal the first wandering guest. Jiang Tangmian clicked into the streaming site.

The screen was still black, but the barrage of comments was already lively—

“Take my rival, my rival totally deserves to go, hahaha!”

“So what if there’s no internet, no takeout, nowhere to stay? Give me a million, I’ll go build infrastructure on that island for you!!”

“I’d do it for fifty thousand…”

“Stop competing to see who’s cheaper, you lot.”

“Heard it’s on some godforsaken deserted island, really wonder which celebrity would agree to go…”

…

The live broadcast began, the camera shaking as it moved. Because of the time difference, the distant lens panned out to a lonely island, sea and sky merging into desolation.

A mellow, deep male voice sounded:

“Mishel Shel Island, located at a mysterious coordinate in the Pacific Ocean, enjoys a year-round tropical rainforest climate, and has not yet been developed by humans…”

Next, a helicopter appeared in the distance, slowly descending onto the island’s beach. A young man in a suit and tie hopped out with a spring in his step.

“He’s here!! He’s here!!”

“Who went?”

“It’s a man—the most hated man on the internet!!”

“Knew it was him.”

“Didn’t they say whoever was free in their schedule could end up going?”

“Thank goodness I’m busy.”

“He actually showed up in a suit, hahaha!”

…

The camera panned upward, the shaky lens locking onto a male celebrity in sunglasses, the answer about to be revealed.

The director of *Go Friday* strode forward enthusiastically to greet him.

“Zhao Shuocheng, congratulations on being named one of this year’s most hated celebrities on the internet. We hope you can complete your mission and successfully escape the deserted island!”

“Hahaha, it’s him!”

“That resource-hog, Zhao Shuocheng!!”

…

The image froze.

Zhao Shuocheng, looking utterly stunned, took off his sunglasses. He was still dressed in a white, high-end custom suit, looking completely out of place against the deserted island backdrop.

“Da-da-da—”

As soon as the helicopter dropped him off, before he could even react, it turned and flew away without a backward glance.

Zhao Shuocheng, a twenty-six-year-old with a boy group background, had rugged good looks and passable singing and acting skills.

But everyone knew he had two faces—one in public, one in private. By attending dinners with industry bigwigs, he’d landed supporting roles in several blockbusters, turning himself into a sought-after variety show star.

Zhao Shuocheng couldn’t believe it. The notice had said he was here for a photoshoot—when had it turned into this “hated celebrity battle royale”? “Me? I don’t remember signing any contract for this!”

But the director was prepared. “Please watch the VCR!”

The screen cut in—

It was filmed from an odd angle.

“Brother Cheng…” The speaker’s face was pixelated, the voice distorted. It seemed to be his assistant, nervously handing him a thermos.

Zhao Shuocheng was busy on the phone, not noticing the assistant, and accidentally knocked the thermos over. Scalding water spilled onto the assistant’s hand.

“Look at you, always rushing around like a headless chicken—what can you possibly get done that way?” Zhao Shuocheng glared at the clumsy assistant.

The assistant stammered, “So, Brother Cheng, about that deserted island survival show—are we still going?”

Zhao Shuocheng didn’t have the patience to listen to all the details, but as soon as the assistant mentioned the appearance fee, he signed the contract without a second thought.

Black and white, ironclad.

The footage ended, the screen cutting back to the island, the scenery beautiful, but Zhao Shuocheng’s face was murderous.

The director handed him a few pages. “This is the contract you signed at the time…”

Without a word, Zhao Shuocheng tore the documents to shreds.

“…the photocopy,” the director finished.

As if expecting this, the director didn’t care whether Zhao Shuocheng lost his temper or not.

Zhao Shuocheng put his sunglasses back on, trying to look cool as he kicked at a coconut. But the coconut was too heavy, and instead, it rebounded and hit his own foot. It hurt, but he gritted his teeth and endured it for the camera.

Frustrated, he shouted at the camera, “This is fraud!!”

The director wiped the lens, which Zhao Shuocheng had just sprayed with spit, and replied shamelessly, “No, this is a live broadcast.”

A punch thrown into cotton.

The comment barrage scrolled by again—

“He took the money, didn’t he? What’s so hard about it!!”

“Hahaha, a resource-hog’s transformation program!”

“Can he just stay on that island forever?”

“Whichever company signed him for this show deserves a medal. I’ve been sick of seeing him for ages.”

…

Zhao Shuocheng tried to use his phone to call for help, but on this godforsaken island, there wasn’t even a hint of signal.

“No way!”

Zhao Shuocheng was beside himself. He’d left home for a photoshoot, and now he was stranded on a deserted island with no way back. “Why do I have to be the most hated one?!”

Director: “Please watch the VCR!”

The footage was now standard, but all interviewees were blurred and their voices distorted.

It was like a secret investigation by the Zhao Shuocheng Victims’ Alliance.

Former fan from X group: “Back when Zhao Shuocheng was in the group, he was always at the bottom in popularity, but no one ever shunned him. Then he cozied up to a big director and went solo—what an ungrateful little man!”

A TV drama viewer: “That year, he played the third male lead, but somehow his scenes got extended to half an hour per episode. The entertainment industry has suffered from resource-hogs for too long. Besides, he’s so ugly…”

A variety show staffer: “When we filmed the intangible heritage show, he drew the straw for making straw sandals. He was so reluctant to interact with the old craftsman—look! I never even released this footage! I have proof!”

On screen, Zhao Shuocheng rolled his eyes at the old man making straw sandals.

“Help, hahaha, what kind of unlucky day is this? This guy must have run into some bad luck!”

“Everyone in the industry knows—never offend the crew. They can pull out evidence on you at any time.”

“Is this show the entertainment industry’s judge? I’m hooked!”

The barrage scrolled by again…

Zhao Shuocheng loosened his shirt collar and tie, his anger showing on his face, and began to rant: “No! Our boy group was going to disband anyway. The extra scenes were because the male lead was busy and couldn’t come, so they gave them to us supporting actors… As for that eye roll…”

He couldn’t even remember why he’d lost control of his expression at that moment. “—Maybe my eyes were just too dry?!”

Even he didn’t believe his own excuse. It was no wonder he’d become the most hated male celebrity online.

“You can’t keep me here forever, right?”

Zhao Shuocheng wilted like a frostbitten eggplant.

Now they were getting to the point!

The director’s eyes lit up as he pulled aside the KT backdrop, revealing stacks of straw piled up before Zhao Shuocheng and the audience.

Next to them were neat rows of canned tuna.

Director: “From now on, your name is Friday. Your ultimate mission is to escape this deserted island. First, you can try to build your own means of departure, but we won’t guarantee your safety on the way.”

The camera followed Zhao Shuocheng’s gaze as he swept across the endless sea—no coordinates, nothing. The idea of getting out on his own was pure fantasy.

From the high spirits of stepping off the helicopter to the reality check of the last ten minutes, Zhao Shuocheng seemed to have aged a decade.

Director: “Second, if you complete the task we assign you, we’ll help you leave the island safely. That task is: weave one hundred thousand pairs of straw sandals.”

Zhao Shuocheng doubted his ears. “One… hundred thousand pairs?”

The show’s popularity soared, and the comments exploded—

“Hahahahahaha!”

“That eye roll at the intangible heritage craftsman has come back to haunt him!”

“No way, the show’s really doing this?”

“I believe in hell now—there’s a hell of a hundred thousand straw sandals in this world.”

…

Director: “Of course, our production team is humane. Even though there’s nothing on this island, to ensure your basic survival, we’ll provide a small amount of canned tuna at regular intervals. Please watch—”

A commercial break.

“This program is brought to you by the bounty of the deep sea—Haodao brand canned tuna~~~ sponsored broadcast.”

“Hahahaha!”

“That ad placement is worth it.”

“That tuna actually looks pretty good.”

“Not gonna lie, I’m about to order some of that canned tuna myself.”

…

The camera cut back to Zhao Shuocheng’s ashen face, watching the production team speed away in a motorboat.

The deserted island was rigged with countless cameras, allowing the crew to monitor everything—and making it easy for *Go Wander, Friday* to broadcast live every day.

Every Friday, footage would be edited into a full episode for official release. Today was a special live broadcast to introduce the first guest.

Jiang Tangmian never expected that just half an hour of this preview would land her on multiple trending topics, leaving her pleasantly surprised.

She opened Weibo, searched the show’s page, and found a flood of positive reviews—

“Starting today, I have a new digital pet—Friday.”

“Resource-hog transformation project—please bring in more people to film!”

“Friday, hang in there—don’t die in my phone!”

“Work is exhausting, but seeing Friday even more exhausted makes me feel so much better. Thank you, production team.”

…

To her amazement, Jiang Tangmian saw that on her system panel, the fish tank representing audience favorability was slowly being filled, as if someone were pouring water into it, drop by drop.