Chapter Twenty-Six: Don't Worry, I'm Here!

Chapter 26: Don’t Worry, I’m Here!

Zhang Le and Yang Xiner traveled light, each carrying a suitcase and an additional guitar.

“Where are we going, exactly?” In the car, Yang Xiner glanced outside and asked the production crew member seated up front, “This doesn’t seem like the way to the TV station?”

“This looks like the road to the airport,” Zhang Le chimed in.

“That’s right, we’re heading to the airport. We’ll fly directly to Paris,” the crew member explained.

“We’re going straight to Paris?” Yang Xiner sounded surprised. “What about the other guests?”

“They’re flying directly to Paris as well! But the other three teams aren’t in Yanjing. You’ll all meet in Paris,” the crew member replied with a smile.

Zhang Le hadn’t paid much attention to the other teams, but Yang Xiner was familiar with them and quickly filled him in. She and Zhang Le, both in their twenties, were based in Yanjing.

The guests in their thirties—Chen Fang and Lin Yang—were in Hong Kong. Chen Fang was a singer, while Lin Yang was an actor known for his comedic roles. They were fairly popular in Hong Kong, but their fame paled in comparison on the mainland, where they’d be considered second-tier at best. With the entertainment industry booming in the mainland and Hong Kong cinema in decline—a far cry from its former “Eastern Hollywood” glory—many Hong Kong artists were seeking opportunities up north. Chen Fang and Lin Yang clearly saw this show as a stepping stone into the mainland market.

The forty-something guests, Zhang Yao and Liang Bin, hailed from Taiwan and were both actors with decent recognition there, though they weren’t as well-known in the mainland as Chen Fang and Lin Yang.

Representing the fifty-somethings were Xu Min and Liu Zheng, not particularly famous, but both seasoned actors with impeccable skills. They were coming from the East China Sea.

Different points of departure, but one shared destination.

After landing and collecting their luggage, Zhang Le and Yang Xiner each wheeled a suitcase with one hand, their other hands clasped tightly together. Zhang Le carried the guitar on his back.

If they’d been in their home country, walking so openly through the airport, they’d undoubtedly be recognized, mobbed by fans, and unable to take a step without being surrounded. But in France, no one knew them. People glanced over, curious mainly because of the cameras following them.

Sometimes, anonymity brings a welcome sense of ease.

“So, where do we go now?” Zhang Le looked to the crew member for guidance.

“Here’s your mission card,” the crew member said, handing over a card instead of answering.

“Is it starting already?” Yang Xiner asked, a little bewildered.

“It started the moment we knocked on your door,” the crew member replied.

“You could have given us a heads up!” Yang Xiner exclaimed in surprise.

“Damn!” Zhang Le glanced at the mission card and couldn’t help swearing.

“What is it?” Yang Xiner asked, curious.

He didn’t answer, simply passing her the card.

“Alright, I trust you’ve read your task. You need to make your way to the Hanting Grand Hotel on your own. But first, please hand over any bank cards or cash you have. We’ll keep them for you temporarily,” the crew member instructed.

“Isn’t that a bit extreme? If we give you everything, how are we supposed to get there? Don’t tell me we have to walk. Is the Hanting Hotel nearby?” Zhang Le asked with a wry smile.

“The hotel is in the east of the city, and we’re currently in the west. But don’t worry, we’ll give you enough money for transportation,” the crew member assured them.

“With a card in hand, you have it all, right?” Yang Xiner shot Zhang Le a half-joking, half-bitter look.

Despite their complaints, both handed over their wallets.

“All of it?” the crew member asked with a sly smile, inspecting the wallets.

“All of it!” Zhang Le and Yang Xiner chorused without hesitation.

“With cameras rolling, there’s no use trying to hide anything,” the crew member said with a mischievous smile, having already caught Yang Xiner secretly tucking away a few hundred yuan.

“Fine, you win!” Yang Xiner grumbled, reluctantly handing over her hidden cash.

Feeling somewhat aggrieved, she turned to Zhang Le for comfort, only to find him sitting down, removing his shoes, and pulling out several hundred yuan that he’d stashed inside.

He’d hidden money in his shoes?

“Hiding a private stash is not something I’d usually reveal—especially not on TV. I can imagine how many men will curse me for this. But, well, honesty compels me!” Zhang Le feigned a frustrated sigh. “Now we’re really broke.”

“You’ll have plenty cursing you,” Yang Xiner quipped, laughing.

“Debts don’t bother me, lice don’t itch. If the husbands are mad, maybe the wives who’ve confiscated their husbands’ secret funds will thank me,” Zhang Le replied in all seriousness.

“Why did you hide cash in your shoe? Did you know this would happen?” Yang Xiner asked, curious.

“Heh! If you didn’t know, how could I? It’s just a precaution—when traveling, a little cash in the shoe is insurance against pickpockets. If everything else gets stolen, at least there’s an emergency stash. Even the best pickpocket can’t get at the money in your shoes! Remember, I don’t share this tip with just anyone!”

Not sharing it with just anyone? With the camera rolling, he’d shared it with the whole audience.

“I didn’t know you could do that!” Yang Xiner exclaimed in surprise.

“Alright, you’ll need to make your own way to the hotel now. Here’s your fare!” The crew member, stifling laughter, handed them twenty yuan.

“Twenty? Are you kidding? Paris is huge—can we really get from the west to the east side for twenty?” Yang Xiner protested in disbelief.

“Don’t worry, we’ve done our research. If you take the subway and transfer to a bus, twenty will be more than enough. Just don’t get on the wrong train more than three times,” the crew member replied.

“You want us to take public transit?” Yang Xiner confirmed. Seeing the crew member nod, she continued, “Fine, no problem. Then tell us which subway line, which bus, and at which stop we get off.”

“I’m afraid not. You’ll have to figure that out yourselves,” the crew member replied.

“What!” Yang Xiner was shocked. “Is the show really going this far? In a foreign country, not knowing the language or the city, it’s hard enough just to ask for directions.”

“Such situations aren’t uncommon. But I’ll give you a friendly tip: just ahead, you can buy a map of Paris,” the crew member offered with a smile.

“A map? What good will that do?” Zhang Le scoffed. “We’re taking the subway and bus, not walking.”

He’d already tried searching for a route on his phone, but despite this world being only at the year 2002, technology was much more advanced than on his previous Earth. Back then, mobile phones couldn’t access the internet yet; even SMS was a few years away.

Though his phone could pull up a map of Paris and even transit routes, it was of little practical use.

“You could always walk,” the crew member said with a grin. “But of the four teams, whoever gets from the airport to the hotel the fastest will enjoy better conditions for the next recording session.”

Yang Xiner looked helplessly at Zhang Le. Professionalism demanded she follow the rules, but she couldn’t help but regret signing up for the show. Never in her life had she felt so at a loss.

“Don’t worry, I’m here!” Zhang Le squeezed her hand and smiled reassuringly.