I have a persona specifically for acting.

Angry as she was, she still had to eat.

After all, she was too hungry.

The imperial assassin could only bow down to instant noodles.

Duan Ge ripped open the packaging.

When she looked inside and didn’t find the seasoning packet, the cold, beautiful face wavered again. Her pale hand crushed the noodle block through the packaging. Watching the unlucky assassin struggle, the audience couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

[“Tong Zhao is just too, too cute!”]

[“An assassin who’s working while eating plain instant noodles without the seasoning packet feels so painfully real… I can’t believe I’m feeling the hardship of being an overworked employee in a survival show. After finishing a tough day of overtime and wanting a good meal, but the takeout you ordered turns out awful—it’s enough to break your spirit.”]

[“Production team, have a heart! I know you’re reading the comments, give my girl a decent meal!”]

The third comment was upvoted to high visibility and bolded.

But it was no use—the production team knew this would hit the audience’s soft spot.

Is a particular contestant especially capable and popular with the viewers?

Great! Make things harder for them! The audience will keep complaining but still watch.

Since there was no electricity at the ruins and no hot water at the base, Duan Ge bit directly into the crunchy noodles, gnawing them as if she was chewing on the skull of her annoying boss. After finishing the whole block, her hunger level rose to 50, which left her in an awkward spot of “barely not hungry, but definitely not full.”

With Duan Ge’s level of activity, she wouldn’t gain weight even on a feast of meat.

She needed more calories!

Eating three packs of instant noodles a day, and dry at that—if the survivor doesn’t die first, she’ll want to.

Duan Ge jumped twice on the spot to vent her frustration.

Her legs were long and straight. Not long ago, she had used those beautiful legs to press against an enemy’s carotid artery, causing them to pass out from lack of oxygen. Her whole body was a lethal weapon, but when she wasn’t fighting or showing off her skills, the audience found her adorable—

[“Those two little jumps make her look like a bunny!”]

A cold comment from a passerby: [“That bunny could kick your head clean off.”]

[“Stop, I can picture it now.”]

Duan Ge pursed her lips, realizing they were a bit dry.

Dry noodles are dry enough, but with no water in her supplies, it was practically the definition of “extra dry.” Thinking about it carefully, how could there be no water in the supplies—weren’t they deliberately making things difficult? Clean drinking water is a critical survival resource.

As for the survivors in the city, Duan Ge knew little: there were twenty people in total, but the gender and age ratio was unclear. Judging from the recent conflict between two teams, it seemed the survivors weren’t in the United States, which worked to her advantage.

Duan Ge: “If none of them are alone, even I’d find it troublesome.”

[“Now that’s more like an assassin.”]

[“As long as I kill all the witnesses, it’s a successful stealth mission!”]

The audience nodded in agreement.

Duan Ge: “But there are advantages to groups gathering, too.”

Duan Ge: “I’ll need to find a way to get some explosives, just in case…”

Duan Ge: “Sigh, that kind of stuff should’ve been prepared by my boss. I’m not really good at handling that.”

[“Huh?”]

[“Okay, explosions are art. Anything can be assassin gear!”]

[“Traditional assassin equipment: black clothes and a grappling hook; modern assassin equipment: explosives.”]

In the variety show, the “annoying boss,” who in reality was the production team, subtly added a special effects subtitle: “If we prepare anything more for you, the show would end in a day,” accompanied by a trembling, cartoonish dog emoji. It was a precise attempt to be cute without being annoying, turning their rule-changing “desperate move” into something more palatable. After all, everyone knew Tong Zhao wasn’t in it for the prize money; the production team clearly wanted the show to be entertaining. Making small rule adjustments was understandable.

The audience was thoroughly amused.

Where was the supposed apocalyptic atmosphere?

Where was the brutal combat in the ruins?

Even though they understood, they were still eagerly waiting for Tong Zhao to dominate her opponents!

This series of cheeky maneuvers indirectly proved that Tong Zhao wasn’t colluding with the production team. But, if there was any shady business going on, it wasn’t about favoring Tong Zhao. Instead, it seemed more like the opposite—making things harder for her.

…

Duan Ge casually stuffed the remaining unredeemed watches under her pillow.

Wasn’t she redeeming them all to see if there might be other useful items?

Just as the audience began to wonder, the AI revealed her inner thoughts and cleared up the confusion:

Duan Ge: “I’m saving up for a ten-pull before redeeming.”

[“Ten-pull, hahaha!”]

[“Come on, production team, at least guarantee an SR self-heating hotpot with the ten-pull!”]

[“Look at how they’ve pushed the imperial assassin!”]

Director Chen didn’t expect Tong Zhao’s subconscious to take her acting skills to a new level—she was like a walking meme machine. He quickly instructed the effects team to create a prize wheel, which would be used the next time Tong Zhao came to redeem her items. They also came up with a small event: the top ten viewers on the gift leaderboard, all wearing Tong Zhao fan badges, would participate in a prize draw. Whatever the fan won, Tong Zhao would receive in the survival show.

If those ten fans were willing, they could even fill out their address in the background, and the production team would send them a real-life version of the item their idol received.

If the fan was super lucky, their idol might just end up with a self-heating hotpot, freshly coded by the modeling team working overtime!

If the fan drawing the prize for their idol has bad luck, well, sorry—your idol will just have to keep eating instant noodles without a seasoning packet…

Tong Zhao’s fan clubs, a few unofficial support groups, immediately got anxious, determined to make sure she got a decent meal. Five members in the top ten leaderboard were wealthy patrons from her fan club. These rich fans certainly had money, but since they usually just spent directly on mobile games, they had no idea if they were lucky or not. So, they started asking other fans with better luck to draw for them in the support group.

In real life, the “lucky” and “unlucky” fans were teaming up to ensure Zhao Zhao could finally enjoy a hotpot feast.

In the variety show world, the Sun Squad returned to their “spawn point”—a partially destroyed house with half the ceiling blown off, but with three intact walls and a secure front door, which seemed safe enough. They opened a box to check their supplies.

At the bottom were 24 bottles of 500ml mineral water, stacked neatly. On top of that were various canned foods, and finally, there was a layer of tightly packed, individually wrapped small bread rolls, which bounced out like little white rabbits as soon as the box was opened. Rice was hard to come by, but the bread could be dipped in the canned food—quite a thoughtful arrangement.

[…]

[“I’m losing it here… Won’t Tong Zhao just break down if she sees this?”]

[“The production team has no chill, hahaha!”]

The team captain pondered for a moment and said, “Everyone’s tired. Let’s each have a bread roll, and two people can share a can. Let’s eat something first.”

He Su chose a can of luncheon meat and shared it with the female doctor.

He tore open the bread roll and stuffed some luncheon meat inside.

The cold, unheated meat was a bit greasy, but He Su was so hungry that even the grease soaking into the bread became delicious. The four of them silently finished their portions of bread. He Su couldn’t hold back and muttered quietly, “Is this all we get to eat? How are we supposed to last fifteen days? Preparing something better wouldn’t cost much.”

The female doctor patted him on the shoulder and said, “Be grateful we have anything to eat.”

He Su, still frustrated, added, “It’s hard to accept that the enemy’s lackeys are feasting while we’re stuck gnawing on bread and cold canned food.”

Due to the storyline’s faction setup, He Su’s reference to the “enemy’s lackeys” was a direct jab at Tong Zhao.

[“The ‘enemy lackey’ is over there gnawing on plain instant noodles, so let’s not bring her into this.”]

[“Good thing Tong Zhao doesn’t speak their language, or would she be furious hearing this?”]

[“Now I want to see an angry bunny!”]

It’s unclear who started it, but somehow, Tong Zhao had been nicknamed “bunny” by the audience.

There was no hidden food stash in the house—no safe, no basement. After some discussion, the Sun Squad decided to hide half of their supplies deep under the bed and cover them with miscellaneous items. Canaan City was a tiny, remote place, and the chances of running into one of the twenty survivors were slim, let alone having their base discovered. The captain reasoned, “From the outside, this place looks like any other abandoned house. The chances of someone coming in while we’re out and doing a full search are very low. Don’t worry about things that haven’t happened. What are we going to do, stash our food in a bank?”

The banks in Canaan City had been bombed into ruins. Cash was now as worthless as scrap paper, even less valuable than toilet paper.

At least toilet paper could be used to wipe your face.

After the captain finished, the group found his reasoning sound and stopped worrying.

The conversation then shifted to the conflict that had occurred while searching for supplies.

He Su said, “Sister Tan was so cool—she threw a chair and scared them all off. They didn’t even bother chasing us afterward.”

Sister Tan was the female doctor on their team.

Actually, she had decent stamina. After all, being a doctor requires endurance—without it, one could collapse during surgery. When the young, enthusiastic teammate praised her, she didn’t feel much emotion, but instead voiced her suspicion: “…I noticed that after they recovered and wanted to chase us, we weren’t running very fast. But after a while, there was no noise at all. It’s a bit strange.”

At the time, they had been so scared, adrenaline was pumping through them. They bolted out the door and ran as fast as they could, avoiding retracing their steps to avoid being followed. Instead, they took several detours before finally returning to their “spawn point,” the residential area in Julong District.

Thinking back now…

The captain said, “Yeah, after we reached the end of the street, we couldn’t hear anything anymore.”

Although he could run much faster, he held back, struggling with himself but ultimately slowing down to stay at the back of the team to protect those who were slower: “From what I remember, as soon as we left the store, they didn’t chase us. I even heard a strange scream.”

That was the Cloud Team’s captain howling like a wounded pig after being shot with an arrow.

Sister Tan added, “I heard that too.”

He Su disagreed, “It sounded more like a roar to me.”

A roar could make sense too, as a way to boost morale.

One of the team members quietly suggested, “Should we… go back and take a look?”

The captain shook his head, fearing an ambush.

His reasoning was clear: since they had already secured food, it was better to stay holed up until their supplies ran low before taking another risk. “Why look for trouble when you don’t have to? Surviving these fifteen days is the real goal of this game. If we must take a risk, I’ll be the one to go.”

He patted a teammate on the head. “Don’t overthink it. We don’t know when the enemy might release poison gas. Keep an eye on the alerts on your watch.”

The poison gas was released at random intervals.

However, thirty minutes before the gas was released, the watch would display a map of Canaan City along with an official warning, giving any players in the affected area time to escape.

“If we have to take risks, we might as well check out the other two supply points,” He Su suggested.

So, what were the conditions at the other two supply points?

The Thunder Team had exceptional luck. When they arrived at their supply point, they didn’t run into any other teams and successfully gathered food supplies and a small amount of basic medical supplies from a hospital.

The Star Team and Moon Team evenly split the supplies at an elementary school supply point.

Although they only got half of what was available, they came away without any injuries.

From the audience’s omniscient perspective, not running into Tong Zhao was a huge stroke of luck.

This turn of events surprised both the audience and the production team.

How did they manage to negotiate without speaking the same language?

AI-scanned thoughts revealed the answer—

Star Team Captain: “Damn, the other side looks strong. We wouldn’t have the advantage in a fight.”

Moon Team Captain: “Those muscles must’ve come from eating protein powder. If I took a punch, even if I didn’t die, I’d definitely get a concussion.”

After weighing the pros and cons, both sides tentatively used gestures to express minimal friendliness. They then divided the resources equally and backed away slowly while keeping each other in view. They only turned around and left once they had reached a safe distance, ensuring there was no opportunity for a sudden betrayal.

When every potential human treachery was taken into account, the outcome turned out to be peaceful and civilized.

The production team was quite pleased with this development.

“Not bad, starting to feel like a proper survival show.”

Director Chen finally felt a bit of relief. “This feels right.”

As the show seemed to be getting on the right track, the staff could relax slightly. As for the contestant who had been eliminated early, well, they just chalked it up to bad luck!

“By the way, what’s Tong Zhao doing?”

Just as the words fell, the director switched the main screen to focus on the exploited imperial assassin, Duan Ge.

After the other contestants had found supplies, they followed human instinct and hid indoors, where they felt safe. Meanwhile, Duan Ge, who was still hungry and thirsty, managed to find the last two bottles of mineral water on a nearby supermarket shelf.

That’s right—there were still a few remaining resources in Jinan City.

However, they were hard to find, requiring contestants to take the risk of running into other teams or being caught by the assassin while out searching.

How did Duan Ge just happen to find them in the nearby supermarket?

Was this a moral awakening or the production team growing a conscience?

No, it was neither.

It was because AI had scanned that Duan Ge, who was suffering from thirst and on the verge of losing her temper, had decided to return to the McDonald’s nearby, intending to cut open the bodies while they were still fresh to drink blood…

To avoid airing such a graphic scene, Director Chen had hastily added two sets of mineral water into her path, hoping to calm her down.

The two bottles of water somewhat appeased Duan Ge.

She then found a high vantage point to overlook the city.

While contestants had supply points, hunters like Duan Ge also had special privileges. Her privilege was being able to choose the gas drop location an hour before the toxic gas was released. The range and timing of the gas drop were decided by the production team, but the exact location within Jinan City was up to her.

Duan Ge took only ten minutes to finalize her plan.

It wasn’t difficult.

She would wait near the edge of the gas, waiting for the right target to appear. It was like fishing on the edge of the shrinking zone in PUBG—wait, and you’ll catch someone. As the safe area shrank, even if she was unlucky, she had mapped out three main routes on the map. All she had to do was watch from her high perch.

“They didn’t even give me a military-grade binocular…”

Duan Ge muttered quietly in complaint.

Those escapees were way too poor—none of them had any useful resources on them.

[Our girl is the poorest assassin in history!]

[The production team has no heart.]

[No, think about it—if they actually gave her a full assassin’s kit, the other teams would probably already be wiped out. This show could go straight to casting for the next season = =]

The audience laughed while agreeing this made sense.

While Duan Ge in the show struggled with her lack of resources, outside the show, a video of Tong Zhao single-handedly taking down four people was edited by devoted fans and uploaded to Weibo. Her agent, Sister Chu, had been keeping a close eye on things and wasn’t about to miss such a golden opportunity for promotion. She quickly paid for big influencers and some PR pieces to boost the video.

@VarietyShowReviewsV:

I have to share this hidden gem of a variety show, “One Life Survivor”! Less than 15 minutes into the episode, and four contestants are already eliminated. Can you guess who the killer is?

[Video]

This post hit the target audience perfectly.

Since the fight scene was so short, the video posted by the marketing account was a combination of two clips: the original and a slow-motion version. In slow motion, you could clearly see how Tong Zhao had taken down four opponents in such a short time. Some people who hadn’t been following the entertainment industry but remembered liking Tong Zhao’s previous work were immediately intrigued:

[Whoa? Is this a variety show? This clip gives off serious Feng Yanqi vibes.]

[Mind blown!!! So cool!!!!]

[Oh please, is this supposed to be impressive? If Tong Zhao fought me, she’d be begging me not to die within five seconds*.]

[The person above… your mom’s dumplings are really delicious.]

The scene of Tong Zhao taking on four opponents was incredibly entertaining, something rare in Chinese entertainment—at least in variety shows. Once people explained the context behind it in the top comments, the post got even more traction and was shared widely.

Her agent, Sister Chu, monitored the data feedback and nodded in satisfaction.

The money spent had brought back substantial returns, which made perfect sense.

Great content + a well-managed entertainment company = success.

Everything had progressed logically up to this point.

However, just as the agent closed the chat to attend to another artist’s matters, the assistant she had been in contact with suddenly started messaging frantically again.

What now?

Sister Chu, puzzled, opened the chat:

[Something big happened!!!]

[Because the fans allowed reposts, that clip got shared on international platforms. A lot of people from overseas are asking who this girl is and whether this is the legendary Chinese martial arts! (Twitter screenshot) The response is huge, even the National Martial Arts Institute posted a Weibo about it… (Weibo screenshot)]

Just seeing the number of shares on those two screenshots made the agent snap to attention.

This was basically an example of something becoming a hit abroad and then being re-imported to the domestic market.

In the West, there’s often a preference for Japanese culture when it comes to Asian content—things like “Dragon Ball” are right up their alley.

China’s primary cultural export is martial arts, which remains popular worldwide, thanks to iconic stars like Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan, who opened the door for international audiences and left a lasting impression.

Chinese fight scenes are incredibly captivating!

Even as traditional cinema fades and action blockbusters dominate, martial arts choreography continues to thrive, with Chinese martial arts films remaining in high demand.

However, the video of Tong Zhao circulating on international platforms is something different.

This wasn’t from a movie?

It was from reality TV?

Was there an action choreographer involved?

The person who reposted it kindly answered the curious netizens—no, there was no action choreography; it’s a survival-themed reality show, and the girl’s name is Tong Zhao, a Chinese celebrity!

The hashtag “#TheGirlWhoFoughtFourOnRealityTV” started gaining moderate attention across North American and European networks. Although Tong Zhao’s fighting skills weren’t traditional martial arts—just something she’d honed through rough survival training—it didn’t matter. Her incredibly beautiful East Asian face in front of the camera, combined with the fact that she was Chinese, sealed the deal.

No problem! It was ‘definitely’ Chinese kung fu!

Most foreign comments humorously agreed that Chinese kung fu is real.

Childhood dreams weren’t shattered, and they joked that it would be perfect if a panda appeared as well.

Chinese students abroad reacted, “Damn, there’s no way we can explain this to foreigners anymore.”

But despite the confusion, everyone was pretty happy.

After all, people from every country share a common trait: they love hearing foreigners praise their own people.

Since it was vaguely related to martial arts, the National Martial Arts Institute jumped on the bandwagon, re-importing the clip to Chinese social media by posting a screenshot from Twitter.

@NationalMartialArtsInstituteV:

New-style Chinese Kung Fu! /Laugh and cry/Laugh and cry

Miss Tong, are you interested in joining our institute?

This National Martial Arts Institute isn’t like the many fake institutions that use the guise of traditional culture to scam students. Whether in the era of traditional films or the era of instinctive action movies, the top martial arts choreographers and action designers all come from this institute’s masters and students. It is well-known in the film industry, and in recent years, more than 80% of martial arts stars have either graduated from or trained at this institute.

Their official social media account is not managed by any PR team. In fact, it’s run by the old headmaster himself, who, after learning how to type with one finger, personally posts updates.

This was basically the grandmaster speaking.

In the martial arts community, the concept of master and disciple is significant, so naturally:

– “Are we getting a new junior sister?”
– “I really want a junior sister!”
– “I just happen to need a female lead for my new film.”

At first glance, these replies seemed like ordinary fan comments…

But upon closer inspection, they were all verified gold accounts, and all belonged to famous actors, action designers, and directors in the martial arts film industry. Any one of them could provide invaluable resources to newcomers aspiring to enter the world of action films.

For Tong Zhao, this wasn’t particularly enticing since she was already in a position where she could choose roles at will.

The problem was the surge in popularity that followed, propelling this short video to the number one spot on trending topics.

#JuniorSisterTongZhao#

Manager Chu scrolled through the replies, overwhelmed by the buzz.

Especially the top comment—director Shi Dingjun, who said he was looking for a female lead for his new film…

This famous director had just won an international award with his last movie.

Unlike commercial directors like Shi Qianqiu, who made money from passion projects, Shi Dingjun pursued artistic excellence, particularly in the realm of Chinese martial arts films.

Now, Tong Zhao had piqued his interest?

Her peers were stunned—who knew that participating in a survival reality show could yield such results!?