The dating reality show host just wanted to give up, but the rich girl fell for him.

"Smack."

The scallion that had been waving in the wind in the bag was broken in half by the fall, and hung forlornly in mid-air.

Colorful gold leaf and paper scraps rained down on Lin Mo, accompanied by the exhilarating and inspiring championship symphony of "We Are The Champions."

At that moment, all the spotlights in the room were focused on his head.

He is the king who is the center of attention.

It was the sheer number one spot that was lifted to the altar by tens of millions of people across the internet with real money and incredible hand speed!

But on Lin Mo's handsome face, there wasn't even a trace of joy.

His pupils trembled violently, his eyes filled with disbelief, shock, and utter despair, as if life had brutally violated him.

How could this happen?!

That's not how the script was written!

Didn't we agree that the backroom deals of capital are invincible? Didn't we agree to wipe his data clean and eliminate him immediately?!

Where did these 58 million+ votes for the underworld scene come from?!

The host, beaming with excitement, was so thrilled that he could barely walk and jogged to Lin Mo's side.

"Lin Mo! Congratulations! An unprecedented first place by a wide margin!"

The host held the microphone to Lin Mo's lips, his voice cracking with excitement: "At this thrilling moment of reaching the top, is there anything you'd like to say to your millions of fans across the internet who support you?"

Lin Mo stared intently at the microphone that was shoved to his lips.

next second.

He suddenly snatched the microphone, as if grasping at the last straw, and let out a hysterical roar at the entire audience.

"This is a cover-up! This is absolutely a cover-up!!!"

"I need my license plate (ticket) checked!!"

Lin Mo's eyes were red, and his voice was filled with an extremely poignant grief and indignation.

"I'm reporting! I'm reporting someone maliciously rigging my votes!"

"I'm just a lowly locksmith at the entrance of an alley! I don't even have an assistant, so where did I get over 58 million followers?!"

"This data is definitely suspicious! I strongly urge the production team to thoroughly investigate the IP addresses used by the production team and remove all these fake tickets!"

The entire room fell silent.

The host's smile froze completely; he looked at Lin Mo as if he were an alien.

Dude, when others are caught rigging votes, they cry and beg for forgiveness, but you're holding up a megaphone and demanding your own votes be cleared—is that something a carbon-based life form would do?!

At this moment, after a brief pause, the live stream room completely transformed into a sea of ​​joy.

[Hahahaha! Holy crap! I can't take it anymore! I'm dying of laughter in front of the screen!]

Look at his utterly dejected expression! He really wants to leave!

[Lin Mo: Please, please let me go! My two acres of wheat back home are going to rot in the ground!]

He's panicking! He's really panicking! He even used the word "behind-the-scenes manipulation"—that shows how eager he is to get off work!

[This is hilarious! When others win a championship, they give an acceptance speech; when he wins, he gives a speech of resignation!]

Brothers, seeing him in so much pain puts my mind at ease! Capitalists will never compromise; he must stay and work 996!

[Yes! I'll fight anyone who dares to leave! I want to see him forced to work every single day!]

On stage, Lin Mo was still holding the microphone, making a final, desperate struggle.

"Director! Director Wang! Please say something!"

Lin Mo shouted loudly towards the control room behind the camera.

"Didn't you just say you would never tolerate ticket rigging? Delete my ticket now! I've already bought my old-fashioned train ticket home, and I'll miss my train if I don't leave soon!"

In the control room, when the chief director, Fatty Wang, heard these words, his whole body of fat trembled violently.

Delete votes?!

Even if he had ten times the courage, he wouldn't dare to touch a single hair on Lin Mo's head!

Those official bigwigs with verified blue badges outside are watching the live stream right now!

If Fatty Wang dares to eliminate Lin Mo at this moment, the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television's ban will be slapped directly in his fat face tomorrow!

"Quick! Go up there and calm him down! Keep this little devil in check!"

Fatty Wang shoved aside the staff member blocking his way, grabbed a pre-prepared prop, and scrambled out of the control room.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the stage...

Zhao Kuo slumped limply on the leather sofa, like a lump of mud that had lost its soul.

His custom-made suit, which he was so proud of, now looked utterly ridiculous.

More than three million votes, compared to more than fifty-eight million votes in the battle.

He was like a caveman with a stick, trying to challenge a fully armed alien star destroyer.

It was pulverized, leaving not a trace.

What terrified and spurred him to despair the most was the terrifying official background that Lin Mo was involved with.

National-level intangible cultural heritage inheritor? National treasure-level master?

Zhao Kuo recalled how he had just pointed at Lin Mo's nose and called him a lowly locksmith in front of tens of millions of viewers...

He even shamelessly said that he would hire Lin Mo to work as a security guard at his company and that Lin Mo would have to kowtow to him!

clown.

Zhao Kuo, a well-known rich second-generation in Beijing, became the biggest clown on the entire internet, forever nailed to the pillar of shame!

"Young Master Zhao, you don't look too well."

Just then, Lin Chacha, oblivious to the danger, came over.

Looking at Lin Mo's incredible stats on the big screen, she was filled with regret.

If she had known that this seemingly poor man was actually a hidden super tycoon, she should have just stripped naked and pounced on him in the kitchen!

Now look what's happened; having followed that good-for-nothing Zhao Kuo, I can't even get a single shot.

"Get out! Get the hell out of here!!!"

Zhao Kuo's eyes were bloodshot, like a mad dog driven to the brink of despair, as he let out a fierce roar at Lin Chacha.

Just then.

The chief director, Fatty Wang, finally rushed onto the stage, panting heavily.

In his hands, he held an enormous, exaggerated, and even somewhat tacky, golden crown.

"Professor Lin Mo! Master Lin! You've been frightened!"

Wang Pangzi completely changed his arrogant demeanor, bending over so low he almost broke, his face plastered with an extremely fawning smile.

He directly changed the title of "player" to "teacher" and "master," for fear of offending the official bigwigs in the live broadcast room.

"These are all genuine tickets! They represent the nation's recognition of your traditional craftsmanship!"

While wiping away cold sweat, Fatty Wang forcibly placed the golden crown on Lin Mo's head.

"You are the pride of our program! The glory of our entire crew!"

Lin Mo recoiled in disgust, tilting her head back in protest: "Don't touch me! I don't want this junk! I want to be eliminated! I want to terminate my contract!"

"You mustn't! If you leave, I'll lose my job!"

Fatty Wang gripped the edge of the crown tightly and pinned it to Lin Mo's head, even straightening it for him.

Wearing an extremely cheap plastic crown, shorts and flip-flops, with a large green onion lying at his feet.

Lin Mo's current appearance perfectly embodies the comedic effect of being "forced to work".

"Then who gets eliminated? Doesn't the rule say the last-place finisher is eliminated?"

Lin Mo was still unwilling to give up and pointed to the big screen.

On the big screen, the last place was occupied by a male trainee who had virtually no presence.

As for Zhao Kuo, he barely managed to rank second because he had capital backing him up and a network of online trolls.

Although Fatty Wang now loathes Zhao Kuo, this troublemaker, Zhao Kuo's father is, after all, the biggest spender who invested 50 million yuan. If Zhao Kuo is eliminated, the production team can't afford to pay the difference.

"We follow the rules when it comes to elimination!"

Fatty Wang gave the unfortunate trainee a righteous look and pronounced his death sentence.

Then, as if by magic, Fatty Wang pulled out an extremely exquisite envelope with gold trim from his pocket.

"Teacher Lin Mo, as the champion of the first stage."

"This is your exclusive privilege mission card that you will unlock in the next stage!"

Fatty Wang handed the envelope to Lin Mo with both hands with utmost respect.

Lin Mo stared at the gleaming gold card, his eyes filled with a resigned despair, and he had no desire to reach out and take it.

Just when the two sides were deadlocked and the situation was extremely awkward.

A series of extremely crisp high heels clicking on the marble floor echoed on the stage.

"Da, da, da."

Jiang Ruoyun, dressed in a stunning burgundy haute couture evening gown, walked gracefully to Lin Mo's side like a proud black swan.

On her usually cool and beautiful face, however, hung an extremely obvious smug smile, like a cat that had successfully stolen some fish.

Jiang Ruoyun did not accept the task card.

She bent down very naturally, using her small, fair hands that she usually never touched even heavy objects.

Without any hesitation, he picked up the dirty, even earthy, military-green backpack from the ground.

He put the scallion back into his bag.

Then, Jiang Ruoyun straightened up and, with an extremely domineering air, reached out and grabbed Lin Mo's large hand, which had become stiff and cold due to despair.

Her fingers were slender and soft, yet they possessed an irresistible strength, and they intertwined tightly.

"Let's go, my great champion."

Jiang Ruoyun tilted her head slightly, her charming peach blossom eyes shimmering under the spotlight, her tone carrying a hint of coquettishness and doting that only Lin Mo could understand.

"Thank you for your hard work tonight."

"Can you make me a midnight snack when we get back? I'm craving noodles with lard."

Feel the soft warmth in your palms and hear the confident "Declaration of a Dry Rice Eater" in your ear.

Lin Mo's pent-up grief and indignation deflated like a balloon punctured by a needle.

He looked down at Jiang Ruoyun's greedy expression, which seemed to have him completely under her thumb, sighed helplessly, and then squeezed her small hand tightly in return.

Forget it.

Who can blame me for being a chef with professional ethics?

Lin Mo casually snatched the golden task card from Fatty Wang's hand, then, holding Jiang Ruoyun's hand, walked off the stage without looking back amidst a flurry of flashing lights and cheers.

Zhao Kuo was left on the sofa in a helpless rage, while the entire internet audience was left swooning over the sweet moments.

Until we returned to that dilapidated old house in Building C.

Lin Mo then tore open the golden envelope in his hand with extreme frustration.

He wanted to see what other tricks this lousy production team could pull to torment him.

however.

When Lin Mo pulled out the task card, he saw the theme of the second stage written in large gold lettering.

He felt a sudden darkness before his eyes, his legs went weak, and he almost collapsed to the ground.

"This is fucking..."

Lin Mo gripped the card tightly in his hand, his lips trembling, his voice filled with an unprecedented despair.

"I'd rather go to jail!"