On Qin Sizheng’s side, he worked efficiently. Jiang Zhen gradually got the hang of it too, and the two of them actually finished harvesting very quickly.
“Fourth Brother had something come up and had to end early—that couldn’t be helped. But if it ends here, his footage time won’t be enough,” the director frowned as he checked the time. After thinking for a moment, he said, “Let’s do this—add some difficulty. Have the village head go over and say this batch doesn’t pass, that it needs to be harvested again.”
The village head went over and pretended to inspect the basket of yanggu liang. He coughed and said, “Xiao Qin, what you picked doesn’t meet the standard. Look, this one’s too old, and this one’s too tender. No good—you need to re-harvest.”
Qin Sizheng wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked at the basket, where the yanggu liang were all about the same size. Confused, he asked, “Didn’t you say that once the outer husk turns papery-dry, it can be harvested?”
The village head felt a bit guilty, but since that was what the production team wanted, he had to go along with it. “There are still subtle differences. I’ll help you take these to be weighed first. You keep picking some more—pick another five jin.”
Little Cherry Tomato’s face was already a little red. He sat to the side, panting like a weak puppy. If he stayed any longer, he might get heatstroke. Qin Sizheng grabbed the basket in one motion. “Explain it clearly.”
The village head jumped in fright. “What are you doing?”
Qin Sizheng’s voice hardened as he held onto the edge of the basket without budging. “When you taught us earlier, you clearly said that once the outer layer turns papery, it’s ready to be picked. Why are you changing it now? You have to explain it clearly!”
He didn’t understand entertainment-industry rules, nor did he intend to flatter anyone. He wanted fairness.
Jiang Zhen grabbed Qin Sizheng’s wrist and quietly warned him, “Don’t be impulsive. This is just for show effects. We can re-harvest. Don’t get angry—it’ll be done quickly.”
Qin Sizheng didn’t care about re-harvesting, but Little Cherry Tomato wasn’t in good health. If he stayed in the sun any longer and got heatstroke, what then? “No.”
The village head stepped back, forcing himself to speak despite the sweat on his back. “Even if you say no, you still have to re-harvest. Unqualified is unqualified. Our Yehu Village treats every single fruit very seriously!”
The two sides were locked in a standoff when a hand reached out and rested on Qin Sizheng’s wrist. It was cool, and the voice was cool as well. “What are you arguing about?”
Qin Sizheng let go at once. Seeing who it was, the village head hurriedly said, “Some of them don’t meet the standard, so they need to be harvested again.”
Jiang Zhen politely greeted him and helped explain. “Fourth Brother, this isn’t Sizheng’s fault either. Both sides have their own arguments. They’ve picked enough, but the village head thinks it’s unqualified. It really is a bit hard to deal with.”
Lu Xianqing didn’t look at him. He lowered his gaze to the large, full basket of yanggu liang. “Which ones are unqualified?”
The village head pointed at the basket. “Many of them—most of them are unqualified. They all need to be re-harvested!”
Lu Xianqing nodded. “Alright. Many.”
The director urged the camera crew, “Get closer—so close I can see every pore on their faces! Don’t miss a single subtle expression!”
With cold eyes, Lu Xianqing curved his lips into an icy smile. “Pick out the unqualified ones. Pick them out right here, in front of everyone. Whatever’s missing, we’ll make up for. Start.”
Village head: ?
Director: ?
Why did Lu Xianqing look like he was here to stand up for his own kid? The thought scared the director so badly he shuddered. He had to be going crazy.
Was this normal?
The cameraman looked over with his eyes, asking whether to keep shooting close-ups. Before he got an answer, he turned back—and nearly dropped the camera.
Lu Xianqing peeled a yanggu liang and pressed it to Qin Sizheng’s cupid’s bow. “Open your mouth.”
Qin Sizheng opened his mouth without thinking, blinking as if he hadn’t quite come back to his senses yet. Immediately after, Lu Xianqing leaned close to his ear and seemed to say something. Qin Sizheng’s face flushed red all at once.
The director and Wan Lai stared in bewilderment. Something felt off, but they couldn’t quite put their finger on it. Frowning, the director said to the cameraman, “Shoot it. Give them more screen time. No matter what it is, the two of them in the same frame will blow up.”
Qin Sizheng’s ears were burning red, and that low, quiet sentence still lingered around them—
“Yanyan, don’t move. No hitting people.”
He hadn’t actually hit anyone. The village chief wasn’t someone as punch-worthy as Si Qianqiu. He’d clearly held back, okay?!
“Feeling wronged?” Lu Xianqing raised an eyebrow at him.
Qin Sizheng didn’t answer. He knew this was a variety show, but anyone who’d worked hard for half a day only to be treated like this would feel aggrieved. Not everyone was as tough as he was.
Xu Zhao had said it before—this industry listens to whoever is popular. A nobody like him would get pushed around anywhere, and he had to endure it. But he wanted to say, screw that. Why should he?
If fists were allowed to do the talking, he could knock every one of these people flat with a single punch.
Lu Xianqing reached out and brushed the dirt off Qin Sizheng’s fingers, lowering his voice. “Want me to help you pick them?”
“No!” Qin Sizheng clenched his fist. He wasn’t about to be beaten by these cheap tricks. “It’s just picking a few more fruits, right? I can handle it myself! You should take Little Tangyuan out to play! And Jiang Zhen’s here for the first time—why don’t you show him around?”
Lu Xianqing didn’t tell him that Little Tangyuan had already left. His face cold, he snapped, “No time. Not going.”
Qin Sizheng froze. Jiang Zhen froze too. That rejection had been way too quick. Still, it didn’t matter—he had plenty of time. Smiling, Jiang Zhen extended his hand to greet Lu Xianqing, confident that hands like his were more than appealing enough.
Lu Xianqing looked at the hand reaching toward him. It was quite nice, but nowhere near as good as Qin Sizheng’s—no scars at all, clearly carefully maintained.
“There’s dirt under your nails,” Lu Xianqing said.
Jiang Zhen withdrew his hand instantly, his face flushing red as he apologized repeatedly. “Sorry, Fourth Brother. I was helping Sizheng pick earlier and didn’t get a chance to wash my hands.”
The village chief soon returned, smiling. “I checked the fruits from earlier—most of them are fine. Only a small portion aren’t ideal, but that’s no problem. This here is some extra start-up funding we’re giving you, as a reward for Kite Dad and Little Tomato’s hard work!”
Qin Sizheng’s eyes lit up. “Really? There’s extra funding too?”
Lu Xianqing lowered his eyes and smiled faintly, not explaining where the money came from.
Qin Sizheng took the cash from the village chief and bent down to Little Tomato. “We can go play now. Aren’t you happy?”
“I wanna go to the amusement park too! And eat lots and lots of candied hawthorns! Daddy, hurry!” Little Tomato pulled off his hat, his little face glowing with excitement. Qin Sizheng wiped the sweat from his face, took his hand, and started walking. After a few steps, he suddenly remembered something and stopped, turning back to smile at Lu Xianqing.
His eyes were filled with sunlight—tiny tiger teeth and dimples shining, even the little tuft of hair sticking up under his straw hat looked adorably silly. He even waved.
“Bye, Fourth Brother.”
“Go on.” Lu Xianqing smiled helplessly. Just like a kid—give him a little sweetness and he forgets all the bitterness.
Qin Sizheng led Little Tomato back home, planning to change clothes before heading out. When Little Tomato saw a haystack, he tugged on Qin Sizheng’s sleeve. “Daddy, you said last night we’d make candied hawthorns. Are we still doing it?”
“Do you want some?” Qin Sizheng asked. After getting a nod, he lifted Little Tomato onto the haystack to sit, made a straw rack, and carried it back.
He picked some grapes and ground cherries, skewered them alternately onto bamboo sticks, then ran to the village shop to buy a big bag of sugar. After melting it down, he rolled the skewers in the syrup and stuck them into the straw rack—rows and rows of candied fruit.
Little Tomato’s eyes went wide. “Daddy, you’re amazing!”
Qin Sizheng handed one to him. Little Tomato sat on the table swinging his legs as he ate, then suddenly noticed lots of older brothers and sisters peeking in through the window, swallowing their saliva.
Blinking, he asked, “Do you want some?”
The group of kids nodded furiously, but didn’t quite dare come in, only staring longingly from outside. Holding his skewer, Little Tomato whispered, “Daddy, can I give them some?”
Qin Sizheng looked outside. More and more kids were gathering—soon it looked like half the village’s children were there. There clearly wasn’t enough to go around unless he made more.
“If we do that, we won’t have money to go to the amusement park.”
Little Tomato struggled with it for a long while, then finally made up his mind. “I don’t want to go to the amusement park. I want to treat the brothers and sisters to candied hawthorns.”
So half an hour later, one big and one small were carrying the straw rack in the village square, handing out candied fruit. The smiles on their faces shone brighter than the sunlight glinting off the sugar.
All afternoon, Qin Sizheng didn’t go anywhere else—but he gave every child in Wild Fox Village an unforgettable Children’s Day.
Most of them were left-behind children from poor families. Some might not see their parents even once a year, let alone have someone celebrate Children’s Day with them.
Even the director had to admit it—this kid deserved to be popular. If this was an act, it was far too real.
After this episode, Qin Sizheng would definitely gain a huge wave of fans.
For some reason, Qin Sizheng thought of the younger kids back at the orphanage. He wondered how they were doing, and whether they felt sad that he’d suddenly disappeared.
He looked up at the darkening sky. Before he could even exhale, a hand suddenly landed on his neck, cool like a snake coiling up.
Instinctively, he grabbed the wrist, drove his elbow backward, heard a pained gasp, and decisively followed with an over-the-shoulder throw. With a loud bang, he finally saw who he’d slammed to the ground.
“Fourth Brother?!”