Chapter 63: One Minute

The incident with Tang Qinru unexpectedly turned out to be a great help to Lin Chuan. Although he had already returned to Beining, his mind remained fixed on the situation at Quancheng Television Station. If he wanted to revive the station, even spark public attention, he needed a variety show compelling enough to catch everyone’s eye.

In his previous life, there had been a hugely popular service-oriented variety show called “If You Are the One.” It captivated viewers of all ages, from the elderly down to elementary school students; every Saturday, families would gather around the television to watch it. Lin Chuan, too, had been fond of the show, especially its witty and humorous host Meng Fei, whose charm brought vibrancy to the program.

If such a show could be brought to Quancheng Television’s screens, it might not sweep the nation, but it would undoubtedly trigger heated discussions. In particular, those middle-aged mothers, who fretted over finding spouses for their children, would wholeheartedly support a program like this.

Over the following days, Lin Chuan visited the factory on the outskirts every day to rehearse with Qin Xiyao. Aside from that, he prepared a song for himself. In the final round, after the contestant and their duet partner performed, there would be a segment where the contestant sang solo to rally votes—a last effort to claim the championship.

Lin Chuan dared not be careless. Having reached this point, he was determined to give his all, at least to avoid letting down the fans who supported him.

Meanwhile, in recent days, various media outlets dispatched reporters to follow Lin Chuan and Huang Quan, hoping to produce impactful stories. Yet results were disappointing: Huang Quan behaved like a true recluse, rarely seen outside. Lin Chuan, though he left home daily, was elusive in his movements. He’d drop his son at kindergarten in the morning, then slip into an unremarkable Santana sedan.

To avoid alerting him and capture valuable material, reporters kept their distance, or tried other means to track him. Frustratingly, the driver seemed professionally trained, with keen instincts for being followed. After circling Beining several times, the Santana would vanish right before the reporters’ eyes.

The first day, they tolerated it, thinking they’d simply lost the trail due to carelessness. But when it happened repeatedly, always in the same spot, patience wore thin.

Zhou Ling, a prominent reporter who had once conducted an exclusive interview with Lin Chuan, now faced this very dilemma. With the championship finals approaching, public interest in both Lin Chuan and Huang Quan was high. As a renowned journalist, and one with prior contact with Lin Chuan, headquarters had sent her hoping for an exclusive scoop.

Such a story would not only earn Zhou Ling a substantial bonus, but also elevate her reputation in the industry. In turn, Tianyu Online’s status would rise as well. If all went well, she believed a promotion—to editor-in-chief or associate editor—was within reach.

But Lin Chuan’s movements were maddeningly mysterious; days of tracking yielded no clear pattern. She’d considered confronting him directly at the kindergarten, but that seemed too aggressive and risked destroying what little rapport remained.

Just yesterday, when Lin Chuan arrived at the kindergarten with his son, a reporter from an entertainment outlet had approached him. The outcome? Not only did they fail to secure any news, Lin Chuan had harshly scolded the reporter—for frightening his child.

“Ling, what are we going to do? We’ve been waiting here for days and still can’t find Lin Chuan. Should we keep waiting?” Hu Ze complained from the interview van.

“The finals are tomorrow, and we haven’t gotten a single valuable piece of news. If we go back empty-handed, do you think Liu will treat us kindly?” Zhou Ling’s face was gloomy as she sat in the back.

Liu, Tianyu Online’s editor-in-chief, was a man in his forties, balding, with a snide manner and a petty, jealous disposition.

Zhou Ling was a veteran reporter at Tianyu Online, known for her outstanding work. She should have been promoted long ago—some had even proposed it—but every effort had stalled, thanks to Liu’s interference.

Liu was a small-minded man, intolerant of talented subordinates rising to his level. He suppressed Zhou Ling, yet hoped she would generate value for him—a contradiction. This time, headquarters had made it clear: if Zhou Ling could uncover valuable news about Lin Chuan or Huang Quan, she would be promoted without question.

This kept Liu up for days. If Zhou Ling landed a major scoop, he’d benefit, but the thought of her reaching his position was like a thorn in his side. If Zhou Ling failed, it was easier: he’d lose a bonus, but gain the opportunity to mock her, dampen her spirits, and keep her under his command.

Zhou Ling understood Liu’s motives perfectly, but there was nothing she could do. She deeply felt the weight of authority.

“Ling, it’s almost five. Should we grab something to eat?” Hu Ze glanced at the time and murmured.

“Let’s wait a bit longer. Usually, Lin Chuan comes to pick up his child around now.” Zhou Ling watched the traffic, her brows furrowing.

“Alright, whatever you say.” Hu Ze sighed helplessly.

Just then, a Santana sedan entered Zhou Ling’s field of view. She perked up instantly and said, “Wang, block that Santana ahead—Lin Chuan’s back. We must reach him before the other reporters do.”

“Ling, are you sure that’s his car? What if we’re mistaken?” Wang, the station’s driver, had been assigned to help Zhou Ling.

“Trust me, I’m certain.” Zhou Ling nodded firmly.

Wang said nothing, stomped the accelerator, and sped toward the approaching Santana—recklessly, as if his life depended on it.

A shrill screech of brakes split the air as both cars stopped just short of colliding.

A man with dyed blond hair, looking every bit the street punk, jumped out angrily. “What kind of driving is that—”

“Good job, Wang.” Zhou Ling flashed a thumbs-up from inside the car, then quickly darted out with Hu Ze.

Approaching the Santana, she saw a man inside. On closer inspection, it was none other than Lin Chuan.

“Mr. Lin, I’m Zhou Ling—we’ve met before, do you remember me?” Zhou Ling knocked on the window, calling out loudly.

The blond was not about to let her do as she pleased; he grabbed her and pulled her aside, demanding, “Which paper are you from?”

“None of your business,” Zhou Ling shot him a fierce look and ignored him, continuing to call out to Lin Chuan, “Mr. Lin, I won’t take up much of your time, just a few questions—”

At that moment, Lin Chuan’s mind echoed with the song he had rehearsed with Qin Xiyao at the factory. Tomorrow was the competition; though their collaboration was nearly flawless, Lin Chuan dared not be complacent.

Huang Quan seemed ordinary, but from the preliminary rounds to now, he had outperformed countless competitors to reach the finals—he must have unique strengths. Especially after inviting the once-retired veteran singer Dong Kai, Huang Quan gained an air of mystery.

Lin Chuan felt a strange familiarity with the always-smiling Huang Quan.

“Mr. Lin… Mr. Lin, can you spare a few minutes? Just a few—” The urgent knocking and a woman’s plea finally drew Lin Chuan’s attention.

He glanced at the reporter by the car door—she seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place her.

He opened the door and stepped out. “Fang Zi, what’s going on?”

“This woman, no idea which paper she’s from, nearly crashed into us and now refuses to leave,” Fang Zi complained angrily.

Lin Chuan’s gaze shifted to Zhou Ling, scrutinizing her with a frown.

“Mr. Lin, do you remember me? We’ve met before—I gave you an exclusive interview. I’m Zhou Ling, from Tianyu Online, do you recall?” Zhou Ling struggled free of Fang Zi’s grasp as she spoke.

“Zhou Ling? Yes, I remember. What is it?” Lin Chuan searched his memory. He had only done one exclusive interview since the competition began, and it stood out in his mind.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions—just a moment, I won’t take up much of your time…” At this point, Fang Zi stopped trying to intervene; continuing was pointless. He simply stood aside, glaring at Zhou Ling.

Lin Chuan disliked interviews, especially now with his son’s school day ending soon; he had to pick him up from kindergarten and didn’t want to waste time here.

He knew exactly what Zhou Ling wanted to know: his preparations for tomorrow’s finals, and who his duet partner would be.

Yet seeing Zhou Ling’s relentless pursuit of news, Lin Chuan felt a touch of admiration. Hadn’t he once exerted every effort for his own work?

“One minute. I have to pick up my son from kindergarten,” Lin Chuan said lightly.