On a dating reality show. I made a plate of shredded potatoes stir-fried with shredded ginger. The rule was: any male contestant who bit into a piece of ginger had to forfeit the chance to go on a date with me. The other guys took one bite and immediately tapped out. I watched as Cole Kensington, an A-list actor, expressionlessly finished the entire plate down to the very last bite. Finally, I couldn't hold it in anymore. Because the truth was... I didn't put a single shred of potato in that dish. It was all ginger. 01 My name is Harper Monroe. I debuted three years ago, but I’m still considered a nobody. Aside from a massive, relentless mob of anti-fans, I have absolutely nothing to show for my career. The dating reality show Thirty-Day Heartbeat was the absolute last project I had to film before my contract with my bloodsucking management agency finally expired. I only had two goals for this show: First: Stay completely under the radar. Second: Stay as far away from Cole Kensington as humanly possible. But on my very first day on set, my plans shattered. There were five guys and five girls. Out of a thousand ways to pair us up, the producers chose the most psychotic method imaginable. Every female contestant had to personally cook a plate of ginger-shredded potatoes. The male contestants would taste them. If a guy bit into a piece of ginger, he had to forfeit the chance to date the girl who cooked it. I banged around the kitchen for ages before finally bringing my masterpiece out. Eat it. Eat up, boys. Looking at the plate entirely composed of julienned ginger, I silently praised my own genius. I had zero interest in being shipped with anyone for drama. And I definitely didn't want to go on a date. Sure enough, the other male contestants took one bite, immediately put their forks down, and backed out. I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when I saw Cole Kensington, face completely blank, taking bite after bite. He didn't stop until he finished the entire plate, then elegantly wiped his mouth with a napkin. I finally broke. Didn't he absolutely despise the taste of ginger? Did this man's taste buds completely malfunction? "Is it good?" I couldn't hold back my curiosity. Taking advantage of a moment when the cameras weren't on us, I lowered my voice and asked him, feeling incredibly conflicted. "Mhm." His response was short and simple. I felt even more frustrated. "Is your tongue broken?" "Once this show wraps, I can finally terminate my contract. Do not cause trouble for me." Seeing his usual calm, unbothered expression, I waved my fist and threatened him through gritted teeth. Cole didn't even flinch. "Mhm." Mhm your head! I was just about to lose my mind when a camera suddenly swung our way. I instantly swallowed my annoyance, summoning every ounce of professionalism a D-list actress possesses. I plastered on a polite, official smile, gave a slight bow, and extended my right hand. "It is an absolute honor to be paired with Mr. Kensington. I hope we get along well." Cole raised an eyebrow, staring at me intently for a moment before answering softly: "We will." A hint of amusement danced in his eyes as he reached out and gently shook my hand. The second the camera panned away, Cole suddenly leaned down. Using a voice only the two of us could hear, he added: "I'll make sure to take very good care of you... ex-girlfriend." I aggressively yanked my hand out of his grip, forcing a fake, plastic smile. "Please maintain a professional distance, Mr. Kensington. Don't ruin your 'aloof superstar' persona." Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a deeply hostile glare directed at me. I shrugged helplessly. "Your rumored girlfriend is glaring at me, Mr. Ex-Boyfriend." 02 Cole and Stella Rossi had recently starred in a massive hit TV drama together, and the internet was shipping them aggressively. The producers obviously planned to pair them up to farm that sweet, viral engagement. No one expected that a literal plate of ginger would make me Cole's first date on the show. The entire cast and crew looked completely baffled. Especially the production team. The director furiously signaled the cameramen, making sure they didn't miss a single micro-expression. He was practically praying that Stella and I would start throwing punches. Two actresses fighting over a man on national television? The ratings would go through the roof. The most unbothered person in the room was Cole. Hearing my comment, he slowly looked up, meeting Stella's venomous glare before she had time to hide it. His expression was utterly neutral, but his words silenced the entire room. "Ms. Rossi, why the dark expression? Did the smoke from the kitchen get in your eyes, or are you just unhappy with the show?" Damn. He truly lived up to his reputation as the industry's most ruthless talker. His bluntness left me stunned, and honestly, I felt a tiny sliver of pity for Stella. Caught off guard, Stella's face went from dark to ghostly pale. She stammered for a painfully awkward few seconds before squeezing out, "I'm not feeling well," and practically fled back to her room. "There. No one's glaring at you anymore." Cole sounded smug. The aristocratic, icy persona the media loved so much completely vanished. Standing there, he looked like a proud, strutting rooster. He paused, then added seriously: "She is not my rumored girlfriend. I wouldn't give anyone else that kind of opportunity." My movements paused. Feeling a sudden, awkward tension in my chest, I turned away without saying a word. After that little incident, the director abandoned whatever drama he had planned and quickly issued the next task to change the subject. "There are ingredients prepared outside. Please head out and cook dinner with your partners." Everyone nodded. But as we walked out, I heard someone muttering behind me: "Cooking again? Is this a dating show or Survivor?" Honestly, I completely agreed. Mostly because my cooking skills were... tragic. I had absolutely zero confidence in this task. And when we saw the massive, cast-iron pots and neatly stacked firewood waiting outside, everyone froze. "Are they seriously expecting us to rub sticks together to start a fire...?" "Are we sure this is a dating show? Did I walk onto the wrong set?" It was already 8:00 PM. We had been filming for hours, and everyone was starving. None of us had any outdoor cooking experience. It took an agonizing amount of effort just to get the fires started. Finally, after an hour of struggling, the youngest actress on the cast couldn't take it anymore and wailed: "I'm so hungry!" Hearing her, I shoved my dark, charred excuse for scrambled eggs aside, ran back to my room, and grabbed my designer bag. Then, under the incredibly confused stares of the entire cast, I reached inside and slowly pulled out a plastic bag full of plain, white steamed buns. "Do you guys... want to eat these first just to survive?" 03 The silence was deafening. Cole suddenly let out a soft laugh, shattering the awkwardness. He walked over and took a bun. The others followed suit, lining up to grab a bun and politely thanking me. The young actress stared blankly at my Hermès bag, then at the plain white bun in her hand. Her mouth opened and closed, but she ultimately said nothing. With tears in her eyes, she took a massive bite of the bun. After getting some actual calories in their systems, the other groups finally finished cooking their dishes. The director announced that partners had to taste each other's food and give a score. Looking at my plate of black, charred tomatoes and burnt eggs, I desperately prayed for a hurricane to blow the plate away. "Did you..." I coughed awkwardly, trying to ease my own humiliation, and continued: "...buy life insurance?" Cole laughed out loud. Without saying a word, he picked up a piece of the burnt egg with his fork and put it in his mouth. I waited in sheer panic for his review. Finally, after a moment, he nodded approvingly and looked at me with absolute sincerity: "One hundred points." Hearing Cole give such a high score, the other contestants—who had been suffering through their own culinary disasters—looked over in shock and envy. They probably thought he actually tasted something delicious. But I knew exactly what my cooking tasted like. I picked up my fork and took a small bite. Just one tiny bite. Instantly, my mouth was assaulted by a violent mixture of sour, bitter, and aggressively salty flavors. For a split second, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I forced myself to swallow it with a heavy heart, patted Cole on the shoulder, and said with profound gratitude: "Bro. I owe you one." Cole had cooked sweet and sour pork—easily the most difficult and complex recipe the producers had provided. Visually, it looked infinitely better than my toxic waste. I took a piece and put it in my mouth. My eyes instantly went wide. A swear word almost slipped out. "Holy f—" I remembered the cameras were rolling. I slammed the brakes, instantly plastering on a smile to save myself. "Holy cow! Mr. Kensington, you are incredibly talented! My 100 points were totally unearned, but you genuinely deserve a perfect score!" I wasn't just sucking up. I had to admit, Cole absolutely killed it. The pork was perfectly crispy, sweet, and tangy. It tasted like it came from a high-end restaurant. But I remembered clearly... he couldn't cook at all back in the day. "Are you secretly a culinary genius?" I asked with my cheeks stuffed full of pork. "Just hard work and practice." Cole's lips curled into a smile. His eyes softened beautifully as he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His voice was incredibly gentle. "Someone once told me that sweet and sour pork was the absolute pinnacle of human cuisine." I stopped chewing. I looked up, meeting those deep, devoted eyes. Sweet and sour pork is the absolute pinnacle of human cuisine. That was a tweet I had posted just a few weeks ago! I lowered my head and let out a soft, hoarse laugh. My long eyelashes hid the violent fluttering in my chest. "Mr. Ex-Boyfriend. We're crossing into dangerous territory here." "You don't like it?" Cole's voice was low and magnetic. Just like the brilliant, confident boy I knew three years ago. 04 During my junior year of college, I was working as a nameless extra on movie sets, where I met Cole, who was also scraping by as an extra. We encouraged each other, comforted each other, and survived the darkest, hardest days together. We played background soldiers, we played dead bodies, we played countless invisible characters who never had a single line of dialogue. Life was brutally hard, but our days were sweet. In a cramped, three-hundred-square-foot apartment, Cole and I held hands and fantasized about our future a million times. Finally, a year later, we both signed with agencies. Cole broke out of the background-actor curse and skyrocketed to A-list fame as the lead in a massive hit drama. But I was scammed by a toxic, bloodsucking agency into signing an exploitative contract. They bled me dry financially while simultaneously buying massive amounts of negative PR articles to smear my name online. It was their signature corporate strategy. If an actor could endure the hate, they'd monetize the negative engagement. If the actor cracked under the pressure and tried to terminate the contract, they'd force them to pay millions in breach-of-contract penalties. Either way, the agency made a fortune. Cole's career was just taking off. Because I knew exactly how agonizing his journey to success had been, I was absolutely terrified of becoming the scandal that dragged him down. So, I hid what my agency was doing to me and initiated a breakup. I took an overseas development opportunity that no one else in my agency wanted, and I vanished for three years. Thankfully, after three years of squeezing every drop of value out of me, the agency promised that if I participated in one final domestic reality show, they would terminate my contract. I never expected it to be a dating show, and I definitely never expected to run into Cole. To ensure I wouldn't be paired with him, I intentionally cooked an entire plate of ginger—the one thing he hated most. It wasn't just to repel the other guys; it was a desperate attempt to keep Cole at a distance. I was terrified that our past would be dug up by the internet. I was terrified that three years of running away would be rendered completely useless. I refused to be the only stain on Cole's flawless, skyrocketing career. He deserved to shine brightly on the big screen, not be dragged through the mud for some celebrity romance drama. 05 "Of course I like it!" I forced a wooden smile and took another massive bite of the pork. "Mr. Kensington, your cooking is incredible. I gave you 100 points, how could I not like the food?" The director's voice echoed through the PA system, announcing that we would depart at 3:00 AM tomorrow to hike up the mountain and watch the sunrise. Beneath the loud crackle of the PA system, Cole asked, his voice tinged with hurt: "Harper, what about me? Am I still your type?" His voice wasn't loud, but I heard it. I heard it, but I didn't answer. Because right now, the answer in my heart—just like our relationship—could not be made public. The early autumn air at 3:00 AM was biting cold. Everyone wore thick jackets and hiking boots. Cole and I were trailing at the very back of the group. Since I worked out constantly, the night hike wasn't particularly exhausting for me. But Cole naturally took my heavy backpack from me anyway, staying close by my side to protect me the entire way up. In my memories, he was always like this. As if this was exactly how things were always supposed to be between us. When we were about two-thirds of the way up the mountain, a sharp cry of pain echoed from the front of the pack. "Ah! My ankle!" I looked up. It was Stella, who had been walking a few paces ahead of us. She had delicate, pretty features, and a naturally fragile, pitiful aura. But the dim lighting on the mountain, combined with the sheer exhaustion of the hike, made her delicate whining sound a bit pathetic. "Cole, I think I sprained my ankle. Could you please help me up?" Stella had a clear target. Using all her acting skills, she pleaded with Cole, her voice trembling with tears. The cameras were rolling. They knew each other from working together. If he didn't help her, the internet would instantly brand him as "cold-blooded and arrogant." Cole didn't hesitate. He took two steps forward, leaned down, and used his flashlight to carefully inspect where she had fallen. Just as Stella's eyes filled with grateful tears and she reached her hand out for him to pull her up... Cole suddenly stepped back, clicking his tongue. "That looks like it hurts." Stella looked confused, not understanding what he meant, but nodded anyway, adding: "I don't think I can walk up the rest of the mountain by myself. I need someone to support me..." Before Stella could even finish her sentence, Cole turned to another actor standing nearby, looking exasperated. "What are you standing around for, Wyatt? Your partner is injured!" He then repeated Stella's exact words: "She needs someone to support her!" Then, he turned around and grabbed my hand. "Thank God my partner didn't sprain her ankle. That looks agonizing! Come on, Harper, I'll hold your hand so you don't fall!" Everyone else: ...
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