"If everyone violates the rules and attempts a group escape, what awaits outside may not just be the mutated creatures of the wasteland, but possibly the program crew’s long guns and short cannons, and clusters of armor."
Saying this, Annie walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, took out a high-powered flashlight, and shone it outside against the glass.
The beam, which should have been able to illuminate a kilometer-wide area, began to diminish after just fifty meters, eventually being swallowed by darkness, leaving no visibility as to what lay outside.
The unknown is often the most terrifying; who knows what they’d encounter running out there, yet staying in the villa and honestly participating in the romance reality show means at least a 25% chance of survival—according to the voice-over, one or several couples should remain in the end.
"Then let’s each rely on our own skills."
The handsome black man Will shrugged his shoulders; he lived up to his name, bearing a strong resemblance to the young Hollywood actor, Will Smith.
"Commercials over! Let’s start today’s feature!"
The broadcast in the corner sounded again; mechanical arms extended from the ceiling tracks, armed with cameras and boom microphones, aimed at the eight players.
And on the television set, the villa’s surveillance viewpoint was also displayed, with a data panel on the side showing the current vote count for each contestant, the current program’s popularity, and audience demographics (including but not limited to age, gender, income, etc.).
[Who gets it, fam! Finally can watch my favorite wasteland romance again~]
[Wow, are these the old human types? So handsome and beautiful! I’m not talking anymore, beauties click on the hearts, hunks give guidance]
[Selling sunflower seeds, peanuts, small stools, and Nuclear Cola in the front row]
[The barrage on port side is too thick, blocking my view of the hotties!]
The screen was filled with a plethora of semi-transparent barrages; the show seemed to be quite a hit, starting off with one million in popularity, just halfway to the two million needed for this segment.
"Hello everyone, let’s start with a self-introduction."
Blonde hunk Leonardo took off his mask, took a deep breath, sat on the sofa, and showed a perfect smile to the camera, "My name is Leonardo, twenty-five years old, and a professional chef. As for my love life, well, it’s embarrassing to say, I just ended a long-term relationship—she left me for wealth."
Leonardo dropped his eyelids; his clear eyes conveyed sadness—through the reflection on the marble coffee table, he could see the position of the cameras, and knew which angles to use to present himself.
Sure enough, immediately more barrages floated across the TV screen, all sympathetic and supportive. The data panel also showed that he immediately received over thirty thousand votes, continuously rising, while the other competitors had only a meager one or two thousand.
A hint of joy flashed in Leonardo’s eyes; he noticed that at the start of the show, 55% of the viewers were female, most of them young girls. The story of being dumped could win him sympathy points, which was as if Emperor Qin had touched a live wire—absolutely electric.
"Oh, you’re a chef too?"
The sexy black woman Harley leaned forward with interest, showing the elegant curves of her back, and spoke softly, "I’m a bartender by trade, but I’m also interested in cooking. Shall we exchange some notes?"
So the show has started.
Li Cheng, who had been watching from the shadows, raised an eyebrow; Harley’s strategy was quite clever. Since Leonardo was so good at performing, why not play the game of flirtation early in the romance show and score some votes from him. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ noveⅼfire.net
As expected, Leonardo enthusiastically chatted with Harley about their cooking insights, and their vote counts rose in sync, with the barrage declaring how sweet and pleasing they were.
A hint of coolness flickered in the eyes of the handsome black man Will; this was not good, as the total number of votes was limited. If the audience all cast their votes for Leonardo and Harley, that meant fewer votes for the others.
"May I ask where Mr. Leonardo is currently working? I would love to experience your restaurant."
He smiled and extended his hand, "By the way, my name is Will, and I’m a financial professional."
Financial institutions exist even atop the wasteland, as bank advertisements had previously appeared on television. And Will’s luxurious wristwatch, inadvertently displayed, silently testified to his young and wealthy status.
What seemed like a normal conversation had an inexplicable tension. The rail-mounted mechanical arms swiftly moved down, adjusting the camera angles to capture the subtle expressions on Leonardo and Will’s faces.
Outside of the camera shot, Little Red Riding Hood asked Li Cheng in a lowered voice, "What are they doing..."
"Rivalry." Li Cheng spoke softly, "Just like two men in a bar trying to hit on the same woman—without using physical violence, they do their best to display their advantages in terms of money, power, social status, education, height, appearance, and sexual attraction to the opposite sex.
It’s almost a biological instinct, kind of like the courtship dance of the blue-footed booby, the Great Argus, the Australian peacock spider, the Japanese warbling white-eye, or the prairie chicken in the natural world.
By the way, I had a friend who once imitated a prairie chicken, dancing in front of his crush, and then he got arrested for disrupting public order and corrupting public morals."
Little Red Riding Hood was utterly confused, while Jin Huixing barely managed to keep a straight face—she knew what a prairie chicken was, a species that inhabits the coniferous forests of North America. Males have two yellow sacs on their necks, which they fill with air and repeatedly flap, making a "boom" sound to attract females during mating season.