Chapter 17: The Fallen Child Star (17) Part 2

[I’m shocked…]

[Is this really Xu Weiheng? I remember how gaunt he looked during his last live stream.]

[Yes! As a fan of his looks, I can confirm—this is Xu Weiheng at his best!]

As Yao Rong returned from buying breakfast, comments surged even higher.

[A village woman? Aging? Excuse me? Her figure and looks rival any actress her age!]

[I love Yao Rong’s demeanor; she exudes gentle intelligence.]

[Really? Intellectual? You should know that Xu Weiheng’s mother only has a high school education.]

[Does dropping out of high school offend you?]

[Some people look refined but are empty inside. Just wait; she’ll embarrass herself soon enough.]

Yao Rong paid little attention to the camera and casually placed the breakfast on a stone table while calling Xu Weiheng over to eat.

Seeing his favorite taro dumplings, he quickly washed his hands and stuffed two into his mouth before saying to Yao Rong, “We’ll pick longan later. I’ll climb the tree, and you catch the fruit below.”

The production team wouldn’t assign tasks until noon; until then, they could do as they pleased—supposedly showing their authentic lives to viewers.

Regardless of how extravagant the other groups’ activities were, Yao Rong and Xu Weiheng were determined not to let the recording disrupt their plans.

Yao Rong nodded, “Wear sun protection when climbing; there are lots of bugs up there. Don’t get bitten again.”

The longan tree in their yard wasn’t too tall; as long as they were careful, there wouldn’t be any issues.

As Xu Weiheng began climbing, comments heated up once more.

[Climbing trees? How boring! I’m heading next door to watch Xu Yiyuan take a private yacht for deep-sea fishing.]

[Take me with you; I want to join!]

However, as Xu Weiheng steadily stood atop the tree and began breaking off the large, ripe longan branches, the number of viewers in the livestream didn’t decrease; instead, it rose from 260,000 to 280,000.

“Are these ripe enough?”

“If I toss them down from here, can you catch them?”

“Don’t try to catch them directly; you might hurt yourself.”

Xu Weiheng moved deftly, speaking to Yao Rong while skillfully snapping off the longan branches he had targeted.

After filling a basket, Yao Rong called him down for a rest: “Let’s leave the rest for another day.”

Xu Weiheng was about to come down when suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he spotted a fluffy green caterpillar wriggling on the branch he was about to grab.

Concerned about hurting it, he looked around, picked a leaf, gently rolled up the caterpillar, and carefully placed it on a branch he wouldn’t touch before continuing down the tree.

Once back on solid ground, Xu Weiheng brushed the dust off his clothes and followed Yao Rong to process the longans.

Around noon, Xu Weiheng received a task card from the show’s production team: prepare a lavish lunch for his family.

The kitchen was already stocked with various seasonings, while the ingredients for the meal were specially provided by the production team.

In contrast to the chaos experienced by the other three groups, Xu Weiheng was initially a bit flustered but quickly found his rhythm, handling the fish with surprising skill.

The assistant director, standing behind the camera, watched for a while before asking curiously, “Have you learned how to cook?”

Xu Weiheng poured a spoonful of salt into the pot: “No, but when Ms. Yao cooks, I help out. After watching her enough times, I picked up the steps.”

Half an hour later, three freshly cooked dishes were ready.

“Try it and see how it tastes,” Xu Weiheng said, sitting at the table, his eyes eagerly fixed on Yao Rong.

Yao Rong took a bite from each dish, then met Xu Weiheng’s slightly anxious gaze, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Not bad, try it yourself.”

Xu Weiheng quickly picked up his chopsticks and tasted the food. A moment later, he exclaimed in surprise, “It’s actually pretty good! Very homely. I guess I can cook for you from now on.”

As they ate, the barrage of comments criticizing Xu Weiheng for being dull and putting on a show continued to flood in.

Yet, during this process, the viewership quietly surged to 500,000.

In the afternoon, the production team assigned a new task: parents and children had to prepare a gift for each other.

Xu Weiheng had a clear goal in mind. Using the twenty yuan provided by the show, he bought some weaving cord, intending to make a bracelet for Yao Rong.

Meanwhile, Yao Rong spent her twenty yuan on a small, one-inch round wooden block.

She brought out her toolbox.

As the toolbox opened, its contents revealed an array of tools.

Yao Rong took out the smallest carving knife, spun it between her fingers, and waved it at the nearby camera, asking the audience, “Have you ever studied the text ‘The Boat in a Nutshell’? In that story, a master craftsman carved an entire boat out of a piece of wood no bigger than an inch. I’m planning to carve a spaceship out of this block.”

[???]

[???]

[‘The Boat in a Nutshell’, I’ve read that, but I don’t understand what she’s saying. Maybe she doesn’t really have any skill and is just bluffing. I used to like this mother-son duo, but now they’re just annoying.]

[Help, I’m dying from laughter! I literally honked like a goose. If she really manages to carve that, I’ll strip down and run naked around the block.]

The assistant director, feeling uneasy, quietly stepped away from the camera and approached Yao Rong. He asked in a low voice, “Ms. Yao, are you serious about this?”

Although he thought Yao Rong might be exaggerating, he couldn’t help but glance at the intricate guardian beasts perched on the corners of the house’s roof, then at the well-used toolbox. He thought to himself, What if?

Daring to showcase her skills live in front of hundreds of thousands of viewers—she had to have some real talent, right?

With that thought, the assistant director even began to feel a bit of pity for those viewers who had been hastily making bold declarations in the comment section.

Yao Rong glanced at him but said nothing. She quietly started carving with her knife.

Sometimes, saying too much only reveals insecurity. Better to let her craftsmanship speak for itself.

The assistant director had been about to ask more questions, but soon found himself entranced by Yao Rong’s fluid, skillful movements.

Wood shavings danced at her fingertips, and the carving knife glided gracefully in her hands. On the one-inch piece of wood, a miracle was unfolding—a ship was gradually taking shape.